Winter Solstice

In seed time learn, in harvest teach, in winter enjoy. ~ William Blake

In “seed time” I did learn, in “harvest” I indeed teach, although I do so in winter and spring as well. But I do enjoy winter…and today, I reflect, on this, the winter solstice.

Summer solstice found me a world away from here, now. Living a “once in a lifetime” experience, participating in authentic scientific research and learning about the affects of global climate change on the arctic. Working (and playing) on sub-arctic tundra, a place I never imagined being. Meeting and befriending a group of like-minded professionals.

From Arlington, VA

Early this morning, another “once in a lifetime” happened. Unfortunately, snow clouds obscured my vision, but I was awake and peered outside in the direction of a rare full moon, full lunar eclipse on Winter Solstice. http://player.vimeo.com/video/18046748

Winter Solstice Lunar Eclipse from William Castleman on Vimeo.

I’m counting it, even though I only saw it in video clips and photographs. Mother Nature strikes again…just like when She cleverly hid all those polar bears just over the horizon in the Churchill June.

This holiday season brings out the polar bears – peering from Christmas cards, adorning wrapping paper, hugging unsuspecting drivers in car commercials, and frolicking in my imagination every time I see posts by certain people on Facebook.

Someone wants a piece of you
Never let ’em pay
What you do not give them
Time takes anyway
~ Jimmy Buffett, Souvenirs

I brought home souvenirs, taken from each person I met on my EarthWatch sojourn. Some were more significant, some more easily put into words, some only those who were there would truly understand. I realize others took their own souvenirs as well, whether or not they realize it. At any given moment, we could call on each other for advice, support, inspiration, or sounding-board service. That’s a priceless souvenir to be treasured.

I continue to share some souvenirs I gathered in Churchill. This year’s students have both enjoyed and endured my photographs and stories about my trip. But more so, they immersed themselves in the biodiversity lab based on my experiences. Carefully laying out the sampling grids after “randomly” choosing them by tossing survey stakes over their shoulders, they meticulously searched on hands and knees for insects amid the clover and crab grass of the school yard, counting ants, crickets, and the occasional grub or cabbage moth. They mastered the handheld GPS units much more quickly than I had. When maintenance mowed the grounds, forcing us to postpone our secondary counts, groans of disappointment brought my promise of doing the activity again come spring. Even now, they will occasionally remind me, hoping to steal another day outdoors despite the wintry weather.

I’ve been fortunate to have opportunities to share with wider audiences, beyond my students. I presented my lesson plan based on Pete’s research techniques at the NSTA conference in Nashville a couple weekends ago (along with fellow EarthWatcher and uncredited presenter, Julie). I’m already “penciled in” to do a similar workshop at next year’s TSTA conference in Murfreesboro. I’ve also shared at a school system in-service session, with the possibility of doing that again. I’ve been on the news, in the local newspaper, and in the TSTA quarterly journal. My fifteen minutes of fame were merely strung out over a period of time. I shrug modestly.

I haven’t taken the time to thank all those who made the experience so delightful, so memorable, so profound on so many levels. I do so now. Thanks, Pete! Thanks, Carley! And thanks to my ten cohorts who made the fen so fun!!

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Eleven days

Eleven days…

That’s both the length of my Earthwatch expedition and the amount of time I have left until school starts. Summer, just like the expedition itself, has passed far too quickly. Of course, three weeks were consumed by summer school, an evil necessity to defray the costs of airfare and my sojourn to a more southerly latitude last week. Throw in a few in-service days, and school stole a month of my already brief summer break!!

Now that I’ve had time to reflect on my Canadian adventure, I fully realize how truly amazing the experience was. Performing authentic scientific research, experiencing the Arctic’s edge (along with its inhabitants) firsthand, meeting and working with wonderful people…

Participating in authentic field research about global climate change…just how many people can say they’ve done that?? I’m still somewhat overwhelmed to think that I worked alongside a world-renowned expert in the field of permafrost, global climate change, and Arctic and sub-Arctic geology, Dr. Peter Kershaw. Anyone who has the idea that scientists are stuffy, stodgy, and aloof has never met Pete. He is truly an amazing man, taking every opportunity to eagerly share his vast knowledge in ways that are entertaining and accessible. Although finding and measuring tiny (and some not so tiny) “treelings” would hardly be considered exciting work, Pete always found a way to make our efforts feel like an important piece to his research puzzle. His concluding lecture clarified just what we had accomplished in relation to the bigger picture of his long-range research efforts. In most of our sample sites, treelings were indeed encroaching into the tundra. What this signals can’t yet be determined…only continued research over time will reveal whether or not this is a harbinger of global climate change and its effect on this sensitive area.

Neither words nor photographs can truly convey the wonder of the Churchill area. Only experiencing it firsthand can one begin to understand its unique beauty. My perspective is limited to eleven days early in a single season…this area only has two, according to Pete, and this was “thaw season.” He explained that this area receives exactly the same amount of sunlight as every other place on Earth…it just receives it in longer continuous periods of daylight and darkness. The terrain is as alien to the outsider (me) as Mars. Walking across the tundra, mere centimeters above permafrost, is like walking across a soggy mattress. The fen was like no other place, forcing interlopers (again, me) to hop from tussocks of sedges, grasses, and lichen in hopes of avoiding getting sucked into the muck. The sheltering boreal forest brought little relief from the mosquito swarms. Riding a zodiac not only around, but onto, an ice floe made my heart beat like few times before. Standing atop a beached ice floe, only to have it crack asunder moments later…well, let’s just say the ol’ heart again pounded mightily, this time out of gratitude.

Life has evolved to exist in extremes. Native plants seem alien to us dwellers of “the south.” Most are diminutive, taking advantage of the short but intense growing season. Those trees that do manage to ever-so-slowly grow to a greater height are often twisted or flagged, a result of the near-constant wind at the ecotone and boreal forest edges. Fauna has evolved to survive the extreme conditions. The most vicious, and apparently most successfully adapted, we encountered were the plague-worthy swarms of buzzing mosquitoes and the hordes of “bulldogs” – biting deer flies. Ptarmigans, hares, foxes, wolves, and other smaller non-migratory mammals and birds have white coverings when snow and ice predominate the landscape and darker colours camouflage them during the thaw season. Polar bears and beluga migrate great distances, following their food sources. Great flocks of migratory birds breed during the brief thaw. Caribou migrate as well. Humans, too, invade during the summer, many hoping to photograph birds and wildflowers, and during the early fall (September and early October), taking ecotours to catch a glimpse of a polar bear. Churchill becomes a veritable ghost town of locals and hardy researchers during the long, dark winter. (This according to our fearless bear-guard, Carley Basler.)

Eleven teachers, hailing from California to Virginia, took part in this expedition, and we quickly became a close-knit and highly efficient unit, battling the alien terrain, incessant mosquitoes, and sometimes tedious search for treelings. We shared universal gratitude to whatever souls invented bug netting and DEET, keeping the ravenous proboscises of buzzing mosquitoes away from our exposed skin. I was fortunate enough to celebrate my birthday while in Manitoba, surprised at the end of the day with a rousing version of “Happy Birthday,” toasts with both a fine vintage of Pinot Grigio and a smoky Scotch, and the camaraderie of my new-found friends. (I shall always remember a certain Jimmy Buffett song not for college times and concerts, but with a smile of remembrance as Pete remarked that he was surprised at just who among us was singing the loudest.) The joys of “chocolate milk” and “the peach stuff” were discovered and shared. As the sole representative from both the South and Appalachia, I felt the need to educate the group on the proper pronunciation of “Appalachian” and on the proper usage of a “toboggan.” Those silly Northerners (and Canadians, too) have this strange notion that a toboggan is some sort of sled, not cold-weather head gear (known as a “toque,” pronounced “tewk” in Canadian). Weird, eh?

Eleven days…possibly life altering, definitely career-influencing…

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Back in the groove

I thought the work during the Earthwatch expedition was a breeze compared to the follow-up requirements and home wind-down. Maybe it was the company I kept, eh? Anyhow, I’m pushing through it. Lesson plan…check. Community action plan…check. Journal summary…check. Cover page and thank you letter to Northrop Grumman…check and check. Still awaiting receipt of the post-trip survey via email. To be sent via snail mail this week: travel receipts and printed copies of news releases. Contact media about my trip now that it’s done….does an email to our school system PR guy count? If so, check. Write a few personal thank-yous…awaiting completion. Trip laundry…finally, check. Equipment packed away…mostly. Get adjusted to sleeping in the dark and later than 5:50 AM…piece of cake.

In fact, in Canada I must have been pretty sleep-deprived without realizing it, because I just can’t seem to get back in the groove. Yes, it’s summer break, so automatically there’s a certain decline in activity, but my to-do list of tasks to be completed before school starts back (August 2nd!!!) has not shortened by even a single item.

1. finish painting front porch railing
2. pressure wash house siding
3. find the top of the kitchen table (I know it’s there somewhere)
4. toes in the water, ass in the sand (thanks, Zac Brown Band!!!)…sorry, Hudson Bay polar bear dip doesn’t quite cut it
5. go through clothes…simplify
6. paint the bathroom
7. mulch around the yuccas and along the driveway
8. waterproof the deck
9. throw out the unopened packing boxes from our move (if it hasn’t been missed in 4 years, I don’t need it…maybe)
10. decide the flavour and start a new gallon of vino, or two

Plans are in place to mark #1, #3, #4, and hopefully #9 off the list by the end of the week, with a high priority on #4. We’ll see…

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23 hours later (or Canada Day 2010)

I need a few more days and a lot more solitude to properly reflect on my just completed grand adventure to the Great White North, but today, on Canada Day, I thought it appropriate to express my profound gratitude. Thank you to the Northrop Grumman Foundation for their generosity in funding not only my, but also the other 10 teachers’, Arctic experience. Thanks to Dr. Peter Kershaw for his patience, his wisdom, his knowledge, and his humour, all of which he readily and willingly shared with a bunch of teachers, who although greatly out of our element, quickly adapted and succeeded (hopefully) in furthering his global climate change research efforts. Much gratitude to Carley Basler, the best bear-guard EVER!! (She did such a great job, not a single polar bear dared wander into our vicinity the whole time we were in Churchill.) Thank you to our home away from home, the Churchill Northern Studies Centre (and staff), for hosting our team. And a final thundering round of applause goes to my fellow members of Earthwatch Team 1 of Climate Change at the Arctic’s Edge!!! You are an amazing and inspiring group of people with whom I was glad to have shared possibly the best 11 days of my life…definitely 11 of the most fun!! So again, thanks to Luann, Angela, Julie, James, Carol, Kevin, Sindy, Rob, Sheryl, and Cathy (along with Pete and Carley, of course). YOU ROCK!!!!

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Day 11: Finito

I was wide awake at 3 AM. I was back asleep at 3:05 AM. I did awaken before my alarm…again, so I got up and finished packing. The “regulars” gathered in the reading room one final time. No AM brief…seemed so weird not to be getting our preview of the day’s work. Bittersweet doesn’t begin to describe my feelings. Time to go home, but I just didn’t want this experience to end. Pete joined our table for our final meal together. Hmmmm…Were we just like any of the many other Earthwatch teams with whom he’d worked? Or was there something a little special about us that might make him smile years down the road?

Beds stripped, everything packed, bags delivered to the lounge for transport. Most of us walked around the building and grounds to savour the northern sunshine one final time…last chance for a bear sighting. We laughed at the spot where Pete taught us how to use the GPS in the rain our second day. We contemplated whether or not we’d ever try to do this again…all would. We agreed that what we’d missed most from home was darkness and what we’d miss least from Canada were the mosquitoes. Rob also shared his video of Pete’s lecture last night, tying up the work we had accomplished during our time in Canada, making us feel like a part of something much bigger than each of us. A few quick games of Bananagrams was squeezed in as well before Carley came to get us. A sad good-bye with lots of hugs was shared when James, Carol, Cathy, Julie, Angela, and I left the CNSC for the final time to catch our Calm Air flight to Winnipeg. The others were going into Churchill for the afternoon before catching their late flight.

Pete walked us outside, bidding us thanks and farewell. I thanked him as well, sharing an Indian handshake. Carley then chauffeured us to the airport and stayed until a group of researchers arrived who were headed back to our home-away-from-home, CNSC. Everyone we had come to call friends in Churchill now had returned to their daily lives, going on as if we’d never been, and we had started our journeys home.

Our Calm Air flight was just that…calm. The plane was bigger than the one on which we’d arrived and was only 2/3 full, so I had a row to myself, as did Angela, Cathy, and Julie. We dozed, chatted, and read – pretty uneventful.

We arrived in Winnipeg, grabbed our luggage, and compared departure times. I was alone on my flight and would be the first to leave. I checked my bag, and when the others realized I wasn’t able to go any further with them, we all hugged our good-byes, promising to stay in touch. Okay, so I’m a cryer…I teared up as I embraced each one, especially when Angela said good-bye. She was the first from our group that I’d chatted both online and on phone as we pondered over what to bring and what to ditch. She’d purchased me a birthday card pre-trip, somehow sensing my personality before we’d ever met. I’ll miss her, as I will all our crew. I miss them already.

On my Air Canada flight to Chicago O’Hare, a 70s-ish man was my neighbor. He was returning from a fishing trip in Saskatchewan. We chatted a bit, and I snoozed part of the flight. He kept breathing very deeply, so I wondered if he was claustrophobic or hated flying. When we landed, he made sure *(sort of) where I needed to go. Once we touched down, I felt my grand adventure had truly concluded…American soil.

The rest of my trip was anticlimactic. I called and texted family to let them know my location. My US Airways flight to Charlotte was quiet – a larger jet (6 across), window seat, open seat beside me, little kid kicking back of my seat. We landed in the approaching darkness…about what it gets in Churchill around 1:30 AM. I hope I can sleep tonight in the dark. I’m just not used to that.

The flight to Tri-Cities was delayed 45 minutes – traffic jam on the runway – but we landed on time. Huh?? Anyhow, I couldn’t keep my eyes open, despite the kind man’s efforts to chat in the seat beside me. He had to twist his whole body toward me when I spoke so he could hear with his left cochlear implant. My brain just wouldn’t cooperate, the darkness having triggered a flood of melatonin. Larry greeted me with roses for a belated birthday, and I know I chattered away on the way home. I just don’t recall…my brain had already begun shutdown. I glanced at the moon, commenting on the wonder of seeing a huge full moon rising over the tundra on one horizon with the setting sun hovering over the Hudson Bay on the other a few days ago in Churchill.

I tried to post this as soon as I got home, since it was still technically June 30th in Churchill, but the internet wouldn’t cooperate. So the date’s wrong for my Day 11 post, eh? Close enough…

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Day 10: Tying up loose ends

Back on track…awake before my alarm and busily online by 6:30. Final team briefing, that’s unless we have another one tomorrow…We’re going to the airport sites: palsa and fen. The ride took about 30 minutes, and Pete decided to “slum,” sitting on the back row instead of riding shotgun.

Arriving at the site, Pete led us to the palsa area, and we got to work. Group 3 found a single larch, but we didn’t have to bail any other teams out because we all finished about the same time.

On to the neighboring fen…5 trees there, but all were under 3 centimetres. The hardest part was photographing them amid the shrubbery. Okay, that was the second hardest part, after finding the tiny suckers.

Can YOU find the spruce seedling??

The afternoon was filled with tying up the loose ends. Equipment was inventoried and stored, the van was cleaned of dirt and mosquitoes, the classroom was organized, presentations, photos, and stories were downloaded to the group file and then distributed, Pete’s final lecture was finalized, and requirements for our fellowships were fleshed out. The final accomplishment before dinner was the “final” group photo.

Our final hurrah

After dinner, Rob revealed the video blog…more than entertaining!! Cathy read her daily blog…the final of the expedition. Then Pete gave his presentation, making our efforts all week finally make sense. He thanked us for our hard work, then dared us to beat him to publication. Then we sampled char, bannock, and various jams (bilberry, cloudberry, and tundra berry). More than a few rounds of What? and a few drinks followed…We wanted the experience to never end. But like all things, we knew it must, so our group slowly scattered to our rooms for our final night at CNSC…

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Before and after: ice floe 6-25-2010

Before….

after

Two minutes after standing on this beached ice floe, an eery crack resounded. Our team looked back in horror to see the chunk now broken into pieces. Lucky, eh?

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Day 9: American Pre-Canada Day

I was all snuggled underneath two comforters when I was rudely awakened by my watch alarm. This was the first time I actually could have slept until 9 or 10. A quick shower and a cup of coffee and my heart started beating…Viola!! Human!!

Breakfast was a big deal since Pete had informed us during our AM brief that the high was supposed to be 10 degrees (that’s Celsius, eh). I know I ate more than I had all trip. Extra layers of thermals were piled on as well.

On the way to the first site, the black spruce wetland, Luann almost disappeared beneath the muck. Sindy was almost sucked in trying to help. We all giggled so hard we cried. A few minutes later, we were all regretting those extra layers, but all erred on the side of caution and kept them on in case the north wind off the Bay was blowing at the next site. Mosquitoes swarmed all around us, trying their best to penetrate our armour of netting and DEET.

By the second site, an International Polar Year site with black spruce, I was seriously sweating. At lunch by a small lake, Angela and I sat in our long underwear bottoms, having peeled off layers of rain pants, outer pants, and extra socks. Heck, we’ve known these people long enough to be comfortable doing so…No shame!! We also took a trek into the woods, bravely fighting mosquitoes attempting to bite the full moons. Ah, sooo much better with only two layers and an empty bladder.

the burn area

The afternoon sites went relatively quickly, the white spruce upland and the burn site (having burned in 1988 and 1997). Someone had disturbed Pete’s research site at the burn area, having taken large snags, likely for firewood. He wasn’t happy, needless to say.

On the way back to the CNSC, Pete took us by an

If Pete wears the head netting, it's baaaad.

archaeological site where he pointed out an adz and another chert rock that had been discarded by an ancient Native Person. We also detoured by an overlook from the beach ridge, with the view spanning all the way into the neighboring Canadian national park, Wapusk, meaning “white bear.” (FYI, the dang polar bear still eludes us.) This site was beautiful, but hordes of mosquitoes tormented us unmercifully.

Rumours had circulated all trip about a polar bear dip in the Hudson Bay. Canada Day is July 1st, and Churchillians celebrate with a Polar Bear dip in Hudson Bay. But we’re heading home June 30th…Well, plans were finalized for our Earthwatch version of said dip after tonight’s lecture on local polar bears by the CNSC executive director, Mike Goodyear. [Details on this on a later blog.]

post dip shivering

Aaahhhh!! Refreshing!! (And yes, this was 10:00 PM!!!)

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Day 8: Just call us HazMat

This whole trip is flying by waaaaayyyy too quickly. Yesterday eleven people whom I did not know a week ago helped me celebrate my birthday like we were old friends. I love them for that wonderful surprise and experience.

Today we were back in the field, finding and measuring spruce seedlings (along with the rare larch seedling) with great diligence. I know, it sounds like it’s been a thrill a minute, but I have loved every single minute of it. I hope that this seemingly tedious and monotonous work will somehow contribute to the bigger picture of global climate change and its effect on this region of our world. The possibility that I would ever have visited this place is even more remote than Churchill itself. I cannot describe its beauty. And Pete is truly a pied piper, because we find ourselves vying to walk within earshot as he walks and talks, soaking up every bit of knowledge he will share.

I have been fortunate enough to have been grouped with two wonderful women, Sindy Main and Luann Hoyseth. Together, we function as a well oiled machine, each having found her own niche. Luann randomly throws a stake over her shoulder, marking the first corner of our sample plot. While she finishes marking off the 1 x 2 metre plot, I enter data in Excel on the Palm while Sindy operates the handheld GPS to find our location. Then Luann and Sindy meticulously search for seedlings, some less than 2 centimetres tall. Once a seedling is located, they carefully measure a dozen different aspects, such as height, number of branches and their lengths, and number of buds. Again, I enter all the data into the Palm’s spreadsheet. Sometimes we find no seedlings, sometimes many. After all data is collected, the plant is photographed for future comparison. Most of the sites we visit are for the International Polar Year, which was this year and is conducted every ten years. We have surveyed tundra, ecotone (tundra-boreal forest boundary), boreal forest, disturbed areas (by humans, such as for gravel pits or rocket launch sites), fen, bog, and a “plantation” (planted in rows, seemingly so we could practice finding and measuring the suckers before we were set loose in the field for Pete’s real research data).

Today we went to an area behind the CNSC that was across from a small lake. We picked our way through fragile lichens upon which caribou depend for food in the winter. What wasn’t covered by lichens was carpeted by thick moss and clumps of dwarf rhododendron, bear berries, and other wildflowers. It was like walking on an old couch with pillows strewn about…not an easy task in rubber boots. The morning was glorious and quite warm in the sun, which meant hordes of mosquitoes buzzing about our heads and hands. After lunch, the clouds rolled in from Hudson Bay, the wind rose, and the temperatures plummeted. At least we weren’t tormented by the little flying bloodsuckers.

Again, our group worked with great efficiency…or maybe Luann is just darn lucky when she tosses the marking stake. Because we finished our allotted plots earlier than the other 3 groups, we were rewarded with the opportunity to complete some of their plots as well. Just call us the HazMat team…clean up what you can’t get done. But our philosophy is the sooner we help them finish, the sooner we can get back to the Centre for whichever meal is next. Yeah, it’s a selfish motivation, but hey, it’s motivation nonetheless.

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Day 7: Happy birthday to me

Up before my alarm, again, giving me time to write yesterday’s blog. I was greeted with a green envelop being flung at me by Angela…a birthday card! Everyone had signed it. A truly touching moment…ha ha ha!! Okay, I’ll obey Pete‘s advice not to get sappy. At our morning briefing, Julie read yesterday’s journal entry and I was included in one of her limericks.

Today’s high was near 15 degrees Celsius (about 60 Fahrenheit) and sunny most the day. Seedlings were found, measured, and plotted at two sites, with the second site having 2 of 3 portions completed today (tundra and ecotone), with boreal forest to be completed tomorrow.

Pete decided to let us have the late afternoon and evening “off,” which meant we downloaded data and more tree mug shots and updated blogs. Of course, I listened to iTunes to get my Jimmy Buffett fix. Inspired, I composed “alternative lyrics” to the tune of “Margaritaville.” (Stolen from Julie’s morning idea.)

This evening, we gathered in the classroom to work on a group lesson plan. Ideas were bounced around about microclimate, random sampling, biodiversity, and others that were barely considered due to being either irrelevant to our work here in Churchill or too difficult to complete for one reason or another.

Rob called our work session to a halt by bringing forth a bottle of Pinot Grigio to toast my birthday. Pete and Luann hooked up my computer to the speakers so Jimmy could provide a little background music. What a great way to celebrate with an awesome group of newfound friends!!

Happy 16th anniversary of my 30th birthday from Churchill!!

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