The annual golfing event is over. This year, the course was not plowed on the sea ice as the Municipality had problems obtaining the proper insurance for the event. At least, that is what has been relayed to me. So what does the city do? They plow a golf course atop a frozen lake instead. Somehow, I fail to understand the logic behind this but I do not understand local politics anyway. You cannot get insurance to cover a public event atop the sea ice but it is OK to hold the event atop a frozen lake.
The wind was wild blowing a steady 50K and gusting to 70k. The deep cap of snow covering the tundra was a flowing white sea.The drifting and blowing snow made the game difficult but not impossible. My foursome had all played off the tee to a "green" a mere 60 yards away. All of us landed within putting distance. The only problem was that the snow drifting so quickly, had completly filled the first hole. In fact, half of the "green" was covered in a rapidly advancing snowdrift. We decided that stricking the pin with the ball would count as the ball being holed. The pins were all made of rough cut knotty pine 2X2 lumber, each with it's own particular set of twists and warps. The top portion of each pin was tagged with a red flag. Hitting the pin looked easy but we found that it was harder than we had thought. The first hole was tough. I looked up to the second hole but was unable to locate it. The snow was blowing very hard creating white outs. A short walk reveled that the pin was only a mere 40 yards away. I had only brought a pitching wedge and a putter. The putter turned out to be useless. The pitching wedge should have been left at home and the lob wedge should have been the club of choice. So I pitch the ball up in the air where it promptly dissapears and goes to God knows where. I never found that ball. The ball was a bright fluorescent greenish yellowish colour. I still could not find it in the white sea. So I drop a ball, hit it to the green a foot from the hole. I was pleased. I walked up to the green and waited for the other players to approach. I watched my ball quickly get gobbled up in the drifting snow. I was quite amazed to watch the ball disapear before my very eyes. So i now reasoned that the ball will get buried before you can walk up to it in the blinding wind. I got 4 strokes having to take a one stroke penalty for losing a ball. The third hole held some promise. The wind suddenly decided to let up for a time. This made it much easier to play the remaining holes. I finished the nine hole couse with a nasty 39 strokes. My brother in-law had finished with 24 strokes. He made 4 of 9 holes with 2 strokes. How he did this while fighting snow,wind and wearing a large down parka complete with windpants,dark goggles, hat, scarf and gloves is beyond me.
So ends the spring time golf extraviganza. Now if only the snow would melt before the end of June, then I can play on dry land like I am supposed to do. Can't wait for the Tundra Golf Tourney on July 1, Canada Day!
Saturday, April 23, 2005
Sunday, April 03, 2005
Toonik Tyme ice golf
April in Nunavut means Toonik Tyme spring festival. Inuit games, competitions and other activities will abound throughout the second week of April. My favourite of course is the sea ice golfing. The course is plowed on the ice a week before the event. The course is nine holes, all of which can be played with a nine iron. The "cup" is a full 6 inches in diameter as that is the size of the smallest ice auger bit in town. If the weather co-operates, the ice conditions will play well. A hard ice foundation with a 1/2" coating of hardend sea ice slush allows for the golfer to hit the ball with the same feel as if hitting off of grass. The sun must be shining and the temperatures must be around -5C. More than likely, the temperatures will be closer to -20C. Several years ago, the weather was wicked indeed. High winds and extreme wind chills made it difficult to make a short putt. This is not your regular round of golf here, it is more of a spring party for us arctic people.
Some of the other events will include snow mobile drag racing, uphill racing competitions, traditional games like the one foot high kick as well as inuktitut dancing and music. Many of the community elders participate in cooking bannock and making tea. Some of the women will compete in the skinning of seals or the cooking of caribou stew. Many artists will come to Iqaluit to sell carvings or to sing a few songs for us. The children always have events going on through the week. Many of the events are arranged by the schools so that the kids can enjoy toonik tyme during the class hours. The winter has been long, cold and dark. It is great once again to see the sun rise in the sky and stick around for longer than a couple of hours. Soon, the days will bring 22 hours of sunshine every day. I will be on the tundra course playing golf. I can start a game at 8PM and play until midnight. It never gets dark in June and July. First, I must get some practice on the sea ice. There are too many good golfers here for me to get lazy. Practice makes perfect.
Some of the other events will include snow mobile drag racing, uphill racing competitions, traditional games like the one foot high kick as well as inuktitut dancing and music. Many of the community elders participate in cooking bannock and making tea. Some of the women will compete in the skinning of seals or the cooking of caribou stew. Many artists will come to Iqaluit to sell carvings or to sing a few songs for us. The children always have events going on through the week. Many of the events are arranged by the schools so that the kids can enjoy toonik tyme during the class hours. The winter has been long, cold and dark. It is great once again to see the sun rise in the sky and stick around for longer than a couple of hours. Soon, the days will bring 22 hours of sunshine every day. I will be on the tundra course playing golf. I can start a game at 8PM and play until midnight. It never gets dark in June and July. First, I must get some practice on the sea ice. There are too many good golfers here for me to get lazy. Practice makes perfect.
Thursday, March 31, 2005
Spring???
Today is the last day of March. The temperature outside is -34C and the sun is shining brightly at 5AM. I opened the door with some difficulty as the frost on the door latch refuses to leave until July, but spring is in the air. The ravens are noisy in the morning. They gather in small groups and hop around on the roof. They cackle and caw as they dance around, pecking at each other. The neighbour's dog is being harrassed by these large black birds.
I watched the birds and as usual, I was astonished at the bird's intelligence. I really think that they organize thier actions. This morning, the dog has a full bowl of Kibble laid out in front of his dog house. Dogs love Kibble. Ravens love it even more. I stood on my porch with a steaming cup of coffee and watched as the birds surrounded the dog in a circle. One bird would hop up to the dog, squacking and dancing around while the others would stay in quiet formation around the dog. The birds were out of reach from the poor pooch. They maintained a perimeter just outside of reach as the dog's chain would not allow it to reach the birds. As the dog became annoyed by the lone squawking and dancing raven, I could see that he was about to try and pounce upon his tormentor. The dog jumped at the raven as fast as he could and ran about ten feet before the chain pulled taught. The annoying bird had kept just out of reach of the canine captive. The dog barked and whined. During this brief attempt at birdocide, three of the birds at the opposite side of the commotion hopped up to the dish and stole several Kibble each. The dog reared his head and dashed at the thieving ravens but they hopped back into formation before he could reach them. The birds cackled a bit as they all hopped about clockwise untill they all held a new position in the formation. A different bird now became the tormentor. Cackling and pecking at the dog until he attacks, then three other birds grab a bite to eat. After a few minutes, all the Kibble was gone, the dog exhausted and the birds full of dry dog food. The birds would gather around and chatter for a bit. Then off they flew, looking for a new source of Kibble. I watched them fly off over the sea ice and could see many other ravens gathering in the sky. They were soaring in large groups high above the sea ice. This told me that the weather would be windy later on in the day. Sure enough, the winds picked up and the snow began to blow. These birds can teach a person much if one observes thier behaviour.
I watched the birds and as usual, I was astonished at the bird's intelligence. I really think that they organize thier actions. This morning, the dog has a full bowl of Kibble laid out in front of his dog house. Dogs love Kibble. Ravens love it even more. I stood on my porch with a steaming cup of coffee and watched as the birds surrounded the dog in a circle. One bird would hop up to the dog, squacking and dancing around while the others would stay in quiet formation around the dog. The birds were out of reach from the poor pooch. They maintained a perimeter just outside of reach as the dog's chain would not allow it to reach the birds. As the dog became annoyed by the lone squawking and dancing raven, I could see that he was about to try and pounce upon his tormentor. The dog jumped at the raven as fast as he could and ran about ten feet before the chain pulled taught. The annoying bird had kept just out of reach of the canine captive. The dog barked and whined. During this brief attempt at birdocide, three of the birds at the opposite side of the commotion hopped up to the dish and stole several Kibble each. The dog reared his head and dashed at the thieving ravens but they hopped back into formation before he could reach them. The birds cackled a bit as they all hopped about clockwise untill they all held a new position in the formation. A different bird now became the tormentor. Cackling and pecking at the dog until he attacks, then three other birds grab a bite to eat. After a few minutes, all the Kibble was gone, the dog exhausted and the birds full of dry dog food. The birds would gather around and chatter for a bit. Then off they flew, looking for a new source of Kibble. I watched them fly off over the sea ice and could see many other ravens gathering in the sky. They were soaring in large groups high above the sea ice. This told me that the weather would be windy later on in the day. Sure enough, the winds picked up and the snow began to blow. These birds can teach a person much if one observes thier behaviour.
Friday, March 25, 2005
Sunday, March 06, 2005
Polar Bear Scare.
It was a sunny yet windy Sunday morning. I decided to take a walk near the beach that morning as I had been couped up in the house for days. The weather had recently been very nasty. Blinding snow, high wind chill factors and low temperatures dominated the days. The sunlight glinting off of the sea ice and the fractal patterns produced by drifting snow, were inviting me for a visit.
I walked down to the beach through an access created by the storm. A large snowdrift covered what would usually be an inaccessible cliff leading to the beach. The thirty foot drop was now a gentle slope made of hard wind blown snow. My morning walk had started off to be delightful stroll in my frozen arctic home. I was getting closer to the town beach after a five minute walk. I proceeded past houses and boats on my way towards the museum. Once past the museum I thought that I would walk into the town and grab a breakfast at the local fast food diner. I was interupted in my plans when I turned around the corner of the Museum building. There stood in front of me a massive hind quarters of a polar bear sticking out the back door of the museum. I froze. I would not move in fear of being heard by the bear. The bear was not moving at all. Here I was stuck in a "statue of Liberty" contest with the world's largest land roaming carnivor. I do not know how long I stood there. I was puzzled by the lack of any movement by the bear. It's head is stuck in the door and he see's something scary so he is not moving, I thought. I could relate to that. This was getting uncanny when to my surprise a man walked out of the door. The same door that this bear is peering into. The man waves a g'morning to me then proceeds to push, with his shoulder, the stuffed bear, into the museum.
He was having a hard time. I offered to help him. He accepted.
I told him that this bear really looks like it is alive. He proceeded to tell me a story about the first days of his employment. Walking into an unlit room and not knowing about the bear...well that's a different story.
I walked down to the beach through an access created by the storm. A large snowdrift covered what would usually be an inaccessible cliff leading to the beach. The thirty foot drop was now a gentle slope made of hard wind blown snow. My morning walk had started off to be delightful stroll in my frozen arctic home. I was getting closer to the town beach after a five minute walk. I proceeded past houses and boats on my way towards the museum. Once past the museum I thought that I would walk into the town and grab a breakfast at the local fast food diner. I was interupted in my plans when I turned around the corner of the Museum building. There stood in front of me a massive hind quarters of a polar bear sticking out the back door of the museum. I froze. I would not move in fear of being heard by the bear. The bear was not moving at all. Here I was stuck in a "statue of Liberty" contest with the world's largest land roaming carnivor. I do not know how long I stood there. I was puzzled by the lack of any movement by the bear. It's head is stuck in the door and he see's something scary so he is not moving, I thought. I could relate to that. This was getting uncanny when to my surprise a man walked out of the door. The same door that this bear is peering into. The man waves a g'morning to me then proceeds to push, with his shoulder, the stuffed bear, into the museum.
He was having a hard time. I offered to help him. He accepted.
I told him that this bear really looks like it is alive. He proceeded to tell me a story about the first days of his employment. Walking into an unlit room and not knowing about the bear...well that's a different story.
Saturday, February 19, 2005
short story
We were playing golf at about 4 am in the midnight sun on our tundra course. There were just the two of us. As we were approaching the crooked hole, we noticed that a few caribou were moving towards us from around the other side of the "upstairs" hole. The upstairs hole is a green elevated 25 feet above the fairway, surrounded by Canadian shield rock. The green measures a mere 3 feet wide by about 20 feet long. The rocks surrounding the green jut out of the ground at a near 90 degree angle. Miss the green and you will end up with 13 stroke.
The caribou came closer and more of them were comming from around the hill. Many more. Soon we realized that there were a hundred animals galloping right towards us. We had nowhere to go so we just stood there. I found myself lost in a sea of caribou all wide eyed and snorting. They dashed left and right of me. These animals never saw me until I was right in front of them. As if I were in a scene from Jurassic Park where a herd of small dinosaurs dashed about, turning in unison, jumping over the movie's heros as they lay hiding behind a felled tree. My problem is that I live hundreds of miles north of the nearest tree. I had nowhere to hide. After a few moments, I wondered if my golfing partner had been trampled to death or if I was to face that fate myself. I began to hoot and holler waving my prized 6 iron wildly. This action at least kept the animals from getting too close as they were more aware of my presence. Soon there were just a few stragglers as the rest of the herd ran off to disappear around the next hill. The last caribou pranced about left and right hesitating to cross my path. Eventually the animal snorted at me then trotted away to meet up with the others.
It was very quiet.
We looked at each other grinning from ear to ear. Then the laughter broke out. The whole scene took all of one minute. There was not an animal to be seen or heard afterward. I had trouble remembering what I was shooting. Was I at three strokes or four? We both picked up our balls and walked back to the tee as we could not agree upon the status of the game. After the tee shot, I had found my ball to be lying in what a herd of caribou always leave behind. 'Bou droppings. They were everywhere.
The caribou came closer and more of them were comming from around the hill. Many more. Soon we realized that there were a hundred animals galloping right towards us. We had nowhere to go so we just stood there. I found myself lost in a sea of caribou all wide eyed and snorting. They dashed left and right of me. These animals never saw me until I was right in front of them. As if I were in a scene from Jurassic Park where a herd of small dinosaurs dashed about, turning in unison, jumping over the movie's heros as they lay hiding behind a felled tree. My problem is that I live hundreds of miles north of the nearest tree. I had nowhere to hide. After a few moments, I wondered if my golfing partner had been trampled to death or if I was to face that fate myself. I began to hoot and holler waving my prized 6 iron wildly. This action at least kept the animals from getting too close as they were more aware of my presence. Soon there were just a few stragglers as the rest of the herd ran off to disappear around the next hill. The last caribou pranced about left and right hesitating to cross my path. Eventually the animal snorted at me then trotted away to meet up with the others.
It was very quiet.
We looked at each other grinning from ear to ear. Then the laughter broke out. The whole scene took all of one minute. There was not an animal to be seen or heard afterward. I had trouble remembering what I was shooting. Was I at three strokes or four? We both picked up our balls and walked back to the tee as we could not agree upon the status of the game. After the tee shot, I had found my ball to be lying in what a herd of caribou always leave behind. 'Bou droppings. They were everywhere.
Wednesday, February 16, 2005
the crooked hole
On the southern portion of Baffin Island, there is a group of men that have built a golf course on the tundra. The course is not a well groomed and artistically landscaped piece of golfery. It is basically a stretch of tundra, sand and rock that has 9 "greens" distibuted about here and there. The greens are reminants of carpet laid out across a flat sandy and mossy patch of tundra. The fairways are what ever God has created and laid out before us. It looks not like a golf course but it is the best golfing available in the eastern arctic.
The crooked hole is a notorious hole that lies on a slope of about 25 degrees. The green (carpet) will not allow the ball to stop within 8 feet of the hole. No matter how slowly the hole is approached with the most skillful of putts, the ball will roll down the hill if it doesn't sink in the hole. So aptly named,The Crooked Hole. Many times I have missed a 10 foot putt 1/4 of an inch to the left of the hole only to watch the ball "orbit" around the hole then roll back down the hill. I call that shot "Apollo 13".
The crooked hole is the hardest hole to putt but Nunavut's make shift golf course has other holes that are much harder to approach.
The crooked hole is a notorious hole that lies on a slope of about 25 degrees. The green (carpet) will not allow the ball to stop within 8 feet of the hole. No matter how slowly the hole is approached with the most skillful of putts, the ball will roll down the hill if it doesn't sink in the hole. So aptly named,The Crooked Hole. Many times I have missed a 10 foot putt 1/4 of an inch to the left of the hole only to watch the ball "orbit" around the hole then roll back down the hill. I call that shot "Apollo 13".
The crooked hole is the hardest hole to putt but Nunavut's make shift golf course has other holes that are much harder to approach.
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