Welcome! To get into the holiday spirit, my post this week is all about caribou.
Every year a winter road is punched into the landscape meandering between frozen lakes and across the rocky tundra. The road is a lifeline to the diamond mines and truck after truck haul loads of equipment and supplies up to the mines. The road is essential to the mining industry and by proxy provides adventurous photographers an opportunity to get into places that are usually accessible only by chartering a small airplane.
In April of 2014 I took my very first ice road trip up the Tibbet to Contwoyto winter road in search of caribou. Round trip, my friend and I drove nearly 800km that day – over 600km on ice.
I had never seen a caribou in the wild. Even before our trip in 2014 the plight of the caribou has been the subject of many heated debates. I for one am firmly in the camp of protection. In my opinion everyone should be working together to protect species from the brink of extinction. It is our responsibility to protect the earth not exploit it. Everything is about balance.
The first place we actually saw evidence of caribou was at a place called Lockhart Lake. There we discovered the grisly remains of a caribou hunt. Unfortunately there was a lot of waste and while I support subsistence hunting in northern communities what was left behind on the ice was shocking to me.
The uneasy feeling didn’t leave me as we continued our drive. The photos of the carnage were so disturbing to me I salvaged some of the remains in order to do a photographic essay as part of my art practice. I still had hope that some of the caribou remained and that we might catch a glimpse of them before we ran out of daylight.
We drove as far as Warburton Bay on MacKay Lake where only ravens kept us company. The trees disappeared. The wind whipped snow across the teal strip of road and for a moment I felt like I had landed on another planet – frozen and desaturated. We turned around and headed back hoping that maybe we’d see some on our way home.
There were tracks weaving in and out of the trees and there was evidence that the caribou were around they just weren’t anywhere we could see them. I was losing hope the closer we got to the hunting ground and yet when we rounded a portage onto a small lake there they were. A small herd of about 25 gathered out in the open.
It was about 3 in the afternoon and the wind was blowing hard. I was actually afraid my tripod and camera might get blown right over yet we had the chance to get out and share space with the herd of mostly pregnant cows. They stared and wondered and observed us with as much curiosity as I observed them. Then something spooked them and they took off through the snow turning and heading back into the shelter of the trees.
We backtracked up the road and found them sauntering through the deep snow, their large hooves clacking as they walked. They were calm, peaceful and quiet for the most part, pawing at the ground once in a while in hopes of turning up some lichen. All in all we had about 40 minutes with them before we both had to get on with it.
The opportunity I had to see these beautiful creatures in the wild is something I hope does not become a legend about times passed. One day I want to take my grandchildren up into the northern wilderness so they too can experience the magic of caribou emerging from snow-covered trees.