Back from the barren moonscape of the Arctic Circle, down in balmy Yellowknife again -- and Internet, courtesy of the Explorer Hotel. Not only is Yellowknife finally warming up (from -40s now to -4), I see I've been elevated to majestic Pipesmagazine Purple. Nice.
I was reporting on a new diamond mine, staying there for a week. Looking out the portal of my cubbyhole-like room, I found it hard to believe anything could live up here. Yet there have been people living here for thousands of years, and animals for eons. And I got to hear of a few, though not see them in person. I only saw ravens, myself, the only animals that seem completely impervious to the temperatures here: -35... -40... -50... and wind that keeps the unsettled snow moving. Always there are ravens.
The mine is still in development as an underground operation beneath an existing pit mine that had spiraled to its minimum diameter, following a kimberlite tube down. Now they are constructing the underground access ramps and drifts to continue following the pipes downward. In places where the accesses broach the pit bottom's walls, animals get in.
One operator coming to his remote Sea-Can operators' console was startled to find a fox curled up on his seat. The next day, after hearing about the fox, I heard a radio call that there was a wolverine on a lower bench in the pit. So, there is life here, after all. They say in the beginning the caribou migrated right through there. They always saw caribou. Caribou and Barren Lands grizzlies. Of course, I was not there at the right time of year for these things.
You'd think I would have learned to appreciate a cigarette over a pipe while here. Of course, there are smoking rooms, and while writing I made good use of them, choosing a table to myself in the far corner where my occasional clouds wouldn't bother anyone as I uploaded photos to my computer and backup drives and tried to get the stories right, quickly, in time for reviews and input before heading back to where I am now, today. Their little Canadian cigarettes are but a few puffs and then gone. Usually on a break they will inhale two or three before going back to work. At $100/carton, I couldn't resist tantalizing them with the cost of a half pound of Peter Stokkebye Luxury Navy Flake and Newminster 403 Superior Round Slices -- a mean thing to do, since Yellowknife (as far as I know) has no tobacconist, and my mail-order prices in the U.S. are a steal. I had other pipes and offered samples. Though they enjoyed the smell and sometimes crowded around, holding my pipe in hand up to their noses, they shook their heads. The cigarettes are more convenient for them, and when they are not near a smoke room -- such as in the office area -- where they have to step outside, they can finish a "whole one" before quickly stepping back inside to thaw out.
Me, I preferred to smoke outside when I could. I filled the whole bowl (though several times, this was not wise, and I wasted tobacco because I couldn't stay out longer). I had thermal longjohns on, jeans, overalls. T-shirt, shirt, sweater, hoodie and overcoat. Toque, hoodie up and tied, and once in a while, even the overcoat hood on. Big fleece lined mittens
The wind was usually too fierce to face, so I would find just the right spot on the leeward side of a building, out of the turbulence created at the corners and rooflines as the wind rushed around to meet itself. My favorite spot was an exhaust outlet that rolled out hot air. One side of me at a time could be warm. When the outside temp was more than -35 (got down to -53 one night), I didn't dare lean on anything, and no way could I sit on something. I stood, and found a way to stand so that my weight was at rest. And then I settled into a soft sip, a tear letting loose and streaming down my cheek now and then. It felt good.
I say I wasted tobacco now and then, because obviously there were times when I couldn't stand there for more than 15 or 20 minutes, though I had intended to. And the pipe would not go out, not with that much draft going on. I couldn't risk putting a pipe with unburned tobacco in my pocket for fear it wasn't really all the way out. I had to knock it out and clean it there where I smoked.
So today in Yellowknife, it's no challenge. It's only -4 Fahrenheit now (just checked my app, which tells me that equals -20 C). So some of the locals aren't even putting coats on to have their cigarettes. I just came in from a smoke, where I talked to a kitchen employee here, who was in a t-shirt and work apron. All he had put on before stepping out was his toque.
But then, he only had a cigarette, a Players. And it lasted only long enough for him to tell me that he'd been here all his life, unlike so many who come for only a few years. I smiled because, his teeth were chattering and he was shivering so hard before he snuffed his butt out and said goodbye.
Hell, I could have lasted as long as a Canadian cigarette in only a t-shirt, too. And I'm only from Minnesota.
But for a good pipe in February in Yellowknife, you have to dress as I do. And down here, at only -4 F, at least I can sit down while I smoke without freezing my ass to the steps!
I was reporting on a new diamond mine, staying there for a week. Looking out the portal of my cubbyhole-like room, I found it hard to believe anything could live up here. Yet there have been people living here for thousands of years, and animals for eons. And I got to hear of a few, though not see them in person. I only saw ravens, myself, the only animals that seem completely impervious to the temperatures here: -35... -40... -50... and wind that keeps the unsettled snow moving. Always there are ravens.
The mine is still in development as an underground operation beneath an existing pit mine that had spiraled to its minimum diameter, following a kimberlite tube down. Now they are constructing the underground access ramps and drifts to continue following the pipes downward. In places where the accesses broach the pit bottom's walls, animals get in.
One operator coming to his remote Sea-Can operators' console was startled to find a fox curled up on his seat. The next day, after hearing about the fox, I heard a radio call that there was a wolverine on a lower bench in the pit. So, there is life here, after all. They say in the beginning the caribou migrated right through there. They always saw caribou. Caribou and Barren Lands grizzlies. Of course, I was not there at the right time of year for these things.
You'd think I would have learned to appreciate a cigarette over a pipe while here. Of course, there are smoking rooms, and while writing I made good use of them, choosing a table to myself in the far corner where my occasional clouds wouldn't bother anyone as I uploaded photos to my computer and backup drives and tried to get the stories right, quickly, in time for reviews and input before heading back to where I am now, today. Their little Canadian cigarettes are but a few puffs and then gone. Usually on a break they will inhale two or three before going back to work. At $100/carton, I couldn't resist tantalizing them with the cost of a half pound of Peter Stokkebye Luxury Navy Flake and Newminster 403 Superior Round Slices -- a mean thing to do, since Yellowknife (as far as I know) has no tobacconist, and my mail-order prices in the U.S. are a steal. I had other pipes and offered samples. Though they enjoyed the smell and sometimes crowded around, holding my pipe in hand up to their noses, they shook their heads. The cigarettes are more convenient for them, and when they are not near a smoke room -- such as in the office area -- where they have to step outside, they can finish a "whole one" before quickly stepping back inside to thaw out.
Me, I preferred to smoke outside when I could. I filled the whole bowl (though several times, this was not wise, and I wasted tobacco because I couldn't stay out longer). I had thermal longjohns on, jeans, overalls. T-shirt, shirt, sweater, hoodie and overcoat. Toque, hoodie up and tied, and once in a while, even the overcoat hood on. Big fleece lined mittens
The wind was usually too fierce to face, so I would find just the right spot on the leeward side of a building, out of the turbulence created at the corners and rooflines as the wind rushed around to meet itself. My favorite spot was an exhaust outlet that rolled out hot air. One side of me at a time could be warm. When the outside temp was more than -35 (got down to -53 one night), I didn't dare lean on anything, and no way could I sit on something. I stood, and found a way to stand so that my weight was at rest. And then I settled into a soft sip, a tear letting loose and streaming down my cheek now and then. It felt good.
I say I wasted tobacco now and then, because obviously there were times when I couldn't stand there for more than 15 or 20 minutes, though I had intended to. And the pipe would not go out, not with that much draft going on. I couldn't risk putting a pipe with unburned tobacco in my pocket for fear it wasn't really all the way out. I had to knock it out and clean it there where I smoked.
So today in Yellowknife, it's no challenge. It's only -4 Fahrenheit now (just checked my app, which tells me that equals -20 C). So some of the locals aren't even putting coats on to have their cigarettes. I just came in from a smoke, where I talked to a kitchen employee here, who was in a t-shirt and work apron. All he had put on before stepping out was his toque.
But then, he only had a cigarette, a Players. And it lasted only long enough for him to tell me that he'd been here all his life, unlike so many who come for only a few years. I smiled because, his teeth were chattering and he was shivering so hard before he snuffed his butt out and said goodbye.
Hell, I could have lasted as long as a Canadian cigarette in only a t-shirt, too. And I'm only from Minnesota.
But for a good pipe in February in Yellowknife, you have to dress as I do. And down here, at only -4 F, at least I can sit down while I smoke without freezing my ass to the steps!
