Dispatches from the Wilde: First Night

The following article is compiled from files recovered from a lost iPhone dredged from the bottom of the Salt River. Through contacts at the University of Manitoba and a helpful hardware tech, I’ve begun patching together the digital journals of one Tyler Michaelson.

13 June 2011

It’s night and I’m in my bunk at the base in Fort Resolution. It turns out that we weren’t going to get to Fort Smith tonight, that is a 3 hour drive on a good day. Anyhow, Dr. Redgrave still needs equipment from Fort Res. that hasn’t arrived so there is no use going down to Fort Smith until it arrives. Needless to say, I’m still pretty much satisfied where ever I am up here. It is such a refreshing change of pace.

Old Crow (that’s Mr. James Leclerc) decided to feed us tonight, as a kind of ‘Welcome-to-your-new-home-for-the-summer’. He’s been a trapper for his whole life, his parents were Metis from the Fisher Bay area in Manitoba. His great-father had even been a part of the original Red River Rebellion of 1870. We had barbeque duck and potatoes, with some deer jerky he made himself. It was unbelievable!

Old Crow told Chris and I that if the equipment hadn’t arrived by noon, then he would take us to see some of the sweet spots Great Slave Lake. Before this, the farthest north I’ve ever been was Edmonton. Even that just feels like a kind of Calgary at times (no disrespect to either city). I’ve been to Lake Winnipeg too, at least to some of it, but Great Slave Lake is something else. It’s the dominant body of water up here. Again, it’s like re-contextualizing everything that I’ve become used to.

So I hope that things go well (for Chris and I) tomorrow. His work only really starts when the research begins. Since I’m here for documentation of communities as well as some of the findings (geological films aren’t that bland) I essentially already began my job. Photos are a kind of film. At least, they used to be. Regardless, I’m still going to get as much information as I can from Old Crow and anyone else who I meet.

I haven’t slept in a bunk bed since I was nine. This will only be for tonight, then we each get the rooms we were promised. Privacy with our own desks. Woot. Anyways, it’s time for sleep.

 

 

 

Dispatches from the Wilde: Found Footage

The following article is compiled from files recovered from a lost iPhone dredged from the bottom of the Salt River. Through contacts at the University of Manitoba and a helpful hardware tech, I’ve begun patching together the digital journals of one Tyler Michaelson.

13 June 2011

Arrived at the depot spot. Fly in was rough. The chartered plane held only eight people including the pilot. The team consisted of Dr. Charlie Redgrave, professor of Geology, University of Manitoba, head of team; Dr. Laurie Benson, professor of Anthropology, University College of the North, research; Chris Patterson, Graduate Student in Geology, research and myself – Tyler, video technician and student. We also flew with three doctors, going north for their community service (or clinics, I suppose). I don’t remember their name, but the cute one is Dr. Campbell.

Dr. Redgrave and Dr. Benson had to file their itinerary at the Fort Resolution District Office. Chris and I got to load the rental truck. Well, rental from the town. From Mr. Leclerc to be exact. He’s a 64 year old trapper who has ties to the University. We got some supplies from town before driving out. Chris and I got to ride in the rental “White Lightning” as it will be called. The Dr.s drove with Mr. Leclerc.

The expansiveness of the north is something that  I hadn’t expected. Prairie sky is one thing to get used to,  but the northern sky is just vast. I mean you can get lost in it. Maybe it has to do with it’s foreignness – like  how so many Canadians haven’t traveled this far. People tend rather to go south, down to America to get their dose of exotic, but here it’s just so wild. It’s untouched. Well, unknown. I mean, sure there are huge industries in mining and forestry, but the average person (like me) has been caught off guard. How come only the companies make the time to come up here?

It’s not that Resolution is a mining town, but I guess commerce up here is so different than back home. I’m used to economic diversity – a kind of melieu of industries, retail and commercial options that just aren’t available. It’s like getting used to a whole new dialect of English (which, in a related way, is also something that I have to get used to).

Anyhow, it’s getting late and I’ve been journaling for the last 40 minutes. I should be a better companion to my colleges.

No Step

-This post was started in July of 2009, after a visit to Paraguay. I finished the piece (which I began writing on the plane) and here it is, perhaps a little later than intended.-

As boarding begins, memories of my trip drift back to me like a familiar scent on the wind. Glimpses of faces, recollections of parts of events come to light. The sound of a name – Teifenbrunn – as it rolls off the lips sounding as German as can be. The sights of the lazy cattle wafting onto red dirt roads, barely blinking as life happens around them.

I walk through gate D42.

I am going to Chicago.

It is a city I adore, only have been there once before. It’s found its  way into my consciousness, like a romantic ideal. Just like how how Minneapolis has shown to me what my fair city might become; Chicago is like the older brother who grew to be more successful yet still shares a faint resemblance to the city I call home. Although I’ll only be leaving the airport by plane, I still feel like I’m seeing old friend.

The walking clearance says 7’11″, which is twelve inches shorter than Robert Wadlow, the World’s Tallest Man of Alton, Illinois. Another memory tied both to Sufjan Stevens and Andrew Bird. Two songs that vie for my attention as I find seat 15F.

Along the wing my window faces – I can check for gremlins. I see HOIST POINT – HOIST POINT on the turbine and NO STEP on the wing. Had I a harness and a coat, that’s where I’d plant myself for the flight. As the plane breaks through the clouds, Miami decreases in scale but runs to the horizon.

I am feeling reflective.

As I sat on the runway, I took the time to pull back and marvel at the miracle of flight. It is most abnormal in all logic, yet we’ve become familiarized and plain-minded in our traveling. This is how we do it. With seven flights in ten days and one more ahead of me, I allowed myself to marvel. Will this be the closest I ever get to the heavens? How far can we go? How far will we go? If our potential is unlimited, how far will that take us?

I am up at 39,000ft on a jaunt that takes me from Orlando over Georgia, Tennessee, Kentucky, Indiana and finally landing in Illinois. It will take just over 2 hours to travel just over 1,100 miles. Soon I will arrive in Chicago. Soon I will be standing again in O’Hare International Airport and soon I will be back in Winnipeg. It has been a strange journey, delightful too.

Pixels and Pinholes

Roaming the internets today, among other kinds of time-wasting, I came upon an article about digital Hasselblads. It is a $45,000 medium format camera with a 50 megapixel sensor. As a Hassleblad user, I am not only slightly envious, but also disappointed that it’s benefit comes from taking multiple exposures. It is billed as a “200 megapixel” camera, which is true, but in a technical way.

It takes six photos in succession, moving the sensor slightly, allowing for greater resolution. Here’s what cnet.com explains:

The camera’s sensor measures 36.7×49.1mm and takes shots with 6132×8176 pixels. When the six shots are combined, each with 16 bits of color depth per pixel, a single raw photo is about 600MB. No doubt that file size is why Hasselblad lets photographers attach a hard drive, though CompactFlash cards are supported.

This means that the iconic square format that is so indicative of the Hasselblads is no longer. I’ve been told before that the 4:3 ratio of all digital cameras is a closer correlation to photographic and painterly history (the golden rectangle ideal) and thus preferred by manufacturers.

On the absolute opposite end of the photographic spectrum, there is designer Kelly Angood’s cardboard homage to that wonderful device can be made at home for considerably less than it’s digital counterpart. As a toy camera user, I am intrigued at the process of making a replica 500c.