Yukon trip, part le deux
Last month I spent some more time in the Yukon working on the communications systems for a couple of federal gov't user groups that our workshop supports.
A large part of this work was driven by a 'near miss' that happened at a remote camp on the Taku river. The workers at the camp suffered a near total communications systems failure during the co-ordination of a medevac. The only comms channel that was reliable was a low-speed data link via globalstar that was able to send emails back and forth. They weren't able to get a globalstar signal for long enough to make a voice call, and couldn't see any iridium satellites at all. The HF radio didn't work, and VHF comms to Juneau Coast Guard Radio was sporadic. Fortunately, discovered after the evac was completed, the injury turned out to be a torn muscle and not the appendix problem that had been feared.
My workgroup has been tendering proposals for enhancing the communications to this site for years, but has always been shot down at the budget planning meetings. Well, somehow a bunch of cash became available in a big hurry so we packed our bags and hit the road.
The plan was to install a series of UHF links from mountain top to mountain top, terminating in a VHF 'drop' that the camp could use as a local repeater to extend their range up and down the river as well as talk back to the head office in Whitehorse. So the system we needed to build would start at Flat mountain, just north of Whitehorse, extend south into BC at a place called Atlin, then south westish from there to an as yet unspecified mountaintop near the camp on the Taku at a place called Erickson slough. Simple enough, eh? Ha.
Off we go:
Flat mountain. We share this comshel with the Yukon Teritorial Government's Wildland Fire Protection group. Our existing repeater here was replaced with a new one incorporating the southward link.
For some reason, there are a lot of Australian and Kiwi helo pilots in this region.
From Whitehorse, we drove south for four hours to reach the small community of Atlin, BC. Atlin is a mining town that's just barely hanging on. There's the restaurant that's open from 7-9, then again from 11-1, and again at 7 till 9. So if you're not able to get there in those 6 hours, you're eating grass. Or something. The two general stores sell mostly frozen and packaged foods.
We set up shop at the local helicopter base and started work on the equipment for Atlin as well as the Taku repeater, as this is as close as you can get to it in a car.
Norm at Discovery helicopters was kind enough to lend us the use of his garage for the week where we hid out and constructed a mountaintop repeater enclosure from an old fish tote.
Here's the base dog, Bean. Bean likes to chase things. Sticks, rocks, her ball, the frisbee, etc. She's not shy about it, either. Comes right up and drops whatever she wants you to throw on your foot.
This is the comshel destined for Atlin mountain, after a fresh coat of paint.
Much like a lot of the communications sites that we use up there, this one is a co-operative effort between a number of different user groups. Norm was doing a lot of the flying for free as he's getting a repeater in the site when it's done. A YTG Emergency Management Office program provided the comshel itself. We supplied batteries and hired the contractor to prepare the site and install the green rocket.
Norm stripped his Bell 206 down, took a big dump, removed his boots, and with a mighty effort, lifted the building into the sky. 900 pounds, according to the scale on the hook.
Here's the view from the hotel room at the end of the day.
Then we had about 3 days of torrential rain. So, back to Whitehorse we went, where we unpacked then repacked for a trip west to the Klukshu camp at a place that used to be called Dalton post.
Salmon resting above the weir on their way upstream to the spawning grounds.
Minor system upgrades and cleanup at this site. A new VHF antenna allows communications much farther up and down the river than they were able to previously acheive.
Back to Whitehorse at the end of the day, where I found a beer and wine store had come up with an interesting solution to the problem of people loitering about the parking lot. Apparently some customers would sit on the parking barricades and enjoy the beverages they had just purchased. The propietor of the establishment basically pounded a bunch of nails through some boards and fastened these boards to the barricades, pointy side up. Ha! Take that, you parking lot loiterers.
The painted warning said something to the effect of 'caution do not sit on nails' along with several other notices posted about the area.
Yeah, I dunno. Maybe tort law is different up there.
The next day, a little birdie (GOES 11) told me that the weather was improving in Atlin, so south it was.
Atlin and the surrounding mountain tops were still socked in, so we completed the construction and testing of the Taku repeater and link systems.
Here's my partner in crime, expressing his joie de vivre after finally getting the beast to talk back to Whitehorse.
The following day, the clouds were still low so we decided to pay a visit to the camp on the river and fix the systems there.
The day after that the sky was high enough for us to fly! So off we went.
This is the hill we ended up putting the equipment on, Chuunk mountain. See the snow cornice on the higher peak to the right?
Click the thumbnail for a 2700 pixel wide panorama
The view from the top:
Here's the site in place and set up. We piled loose rock about half way up the side of the tote. Took an hour or so and was the best fucking game *evar*. 6800 feet above sea level here.
With that installation complete, we flew down to the camp to test the system end-to-end with another person in Whitehorse. Clear as a 15Khz VHF channel gets, and the users were very excited about the whole thing. Got their HF up and running as well. So now between the improved VHF, the HF, and 2 different sat phones, one hopes that they will be able to talk whenever they need to.
On the way back to Atlin from the Taku we took a different route. Up the Tulsequah river to the Tulsequah glacier and the Mclennan ice field.
The glacier:
Here's Lake No-lake. This drainage butts up against the side of the ice flow and slowly fills with water. After about a month or so enough water has accumulated to lift the ice just enough for it to all flow out underneath the glacier. This causes the river to 'burp' and suddenly change level for a few days.
This is not a great shot of the ice field. It stretches for ever. The pilot told us a story of some fools that set out across is as a shortcut one day and had to be rescued.
I never did find out what made the lakes these vibrant colours.
Stopped off at the Atlin mountain comshel to finish up some last minute things.
And that was the end of that day. Well, almost. We still had to make the drive back to Whitehorse.
On the way, we met up with a custom knifemaker in Tagish Lake, a Mr. Larry Durand. Here are a couple of examples of his work. Larry makes simple hunting knives of a very high quality from flat ground S30V and uses basic wood, bone, and antler handles. He doesn't care much for art knives and has never made a fantasy dagger in his life. I got the impression that he would reluctantly make kitchen knives if pressed to do so. A most enjoyable visit. Larry can be reached at 867-399-3334
The next day we fought our way through the throngs of Holland America Line tourists at the breakfast buffet and formed a sleep deprived plan to make the 7 hour drive north to Dawson City. We have 2 sites there that needed a little TLC before the snow flies. So off we went.
A little fox looking for a handout on the side of the road.
Here's a view of downtown Dawson City.
And the busloads of tourists milling about the entrance to Diamond Tooth Gerties.
This place is funny. If you want to pay cover, they'll gladly take it from you. If you walk right in like you own the place, they'll greet you with a smile and ask how you're doing. The show is funny, the food, not so much.
A bear that didn't wait around for us to get closer in the truck.
The recent discussion here prompted me to take this picture. You had to stand inside for a long time to allow your eyes to adjust enough to see the image with any sort of detail. But it did work.
There's a hotel in Dawson that is the home of the Sourtoe Cocktail. See http://www.sourtoecocktailclub.com for details. All I can say is that this thing is pretty gnarly, and tastes really funky.
Dawson from the air:
We fixed the machines, polished up the flux capacitors, and set the phasers on stun. With our return tickets clutched firmly in hand, it was time to hit the road back to Whitehorse, and end this marathon of tomfoolery. Heading south on whatever highway it is that connects Dawson to Whitehorse, we could make out this funny little dot on the road. As we got closer we could make out Mr. Castor Canadensis dragging some lunch across the highway.
Here's a nice beaver shot for all the guys:
And the last picture I have is of an old roadhouse. These were spaced about a days travel apart along the Klondike trail. Miners on their way to the gold fields could recharge their batteries with a hot meal and a bunk to rest in. For a price. I think the merchants were the real winners in the rush. Not many of the miners were.
And that's it. We flew home, cleaned up our toolboxes, and are now getting ready for the next adventure.
A large part of this work was driven by a 'near miss' that happened at a remote camp on the Taku river. The workers at the camp suffered a near total communications systems failure during the co-ordination of a medevac. The only comms channel that was reliable was a low-speed data link via globalstar that was able to send emails back and forth. They weren't able to get a globalstar signal for long enough to make a voice call, and couldn't see any iridium satellites at all. The HF radio didn't work, and VHF comms to Juneau Coast Guard Radio was sporadic. Fortunately, discovered after the evac was completed, the injury turned out to be a torn muscle and not the appendix problem that had been feared.
My workgroup has been tendering proposals for enhancing the communications to this site for years, but has always been shot down at the budget planning meetings. Well, somehow a bunch of cash became available in a big hurry so we packed our bags and hit the road.
The plan was to install a series of UHF links from mountain top to mountain top, terminating in a VHF 'drop' that the camp could use as a local repeater to extend their range up and down the river as well as talk back to the head office in Whitehorse. So the system we needed to build would start at Flat mountain, just north of Whitehorse, extend south into BC at a place called Atlin, then south westish from there to an as yet unspecified mountaintop near the camp on the Taku at a place called Erickson slough. Simple enough, eh? Ha.
Off we go:
Flat mountain. We share this comshel with the Yukon Teritorial Government's Wildland Fire Protection group. Our existing repeater here was replaced with a new one incorporating the southward link.
For some reason, there are a lot of Australian and Kiwi helo pilots in this region.
From Whitehorse, we drove south for four hours to reach the small community of Atlin, BC. Atlin is a mining town that's just barely hanging on. There's the restaurant that's open from 7-9, then again from 11-1, and again at 7 till 9. So if you're not able to get there in those 6 hours, you're eating grass. Or something. The two general stores sell mostly frozen and packaged foods.
We set up shop at the local helicopter base and started work on the equipment for Atlin as well as the Taku repeater, as this is as close as you can get to it in a car.
Norm at Discovery helicopters was kind enough to lend us the use of his garage for the week where we hid out and constructed a mountaintop repeater enclosure from an old fish tote.
Here's the base dog, Bean. Bean likes to chase things. Sticks, rocks, her ball, the frisbee, etc. She's not shy about it, either. Comes right up and drops whatever she wants you to throw on your foot.
This is the comshel destined for Atlin mountain, after a fresh coat of paint.
Much like a lot of the communications sites that we use up there, this one is a co-operative effort between a number of different user groups. Norm was doing a lot of the flying for free as he's getting a repeater in the site when it's done. A YTG Emergency Management Office program provided the comshel itself. We supplied batteries and hired the contractor to prepare the site and install the green rocket.
Norm stripped his Bell 206 down, took a big dump, removed his boots, and with a mighty effort, lifted the building into the sky. 900 pounds, according to the scale on the hook.
Here's the view from the hotel room at the end of the day.
Then we had about 3 days of torrential rain. So, back to Whitehorse we went, where we unpacked then repacked for a trip west to the Klukshu camp at a place that used to be called Dalton post.
Salmon resting above the weir on their way upstream to the spawning grounds.
Minor system upgrades and cleanup at this site. A new VHF antenna allows communications much farther up and down the river than they were able to previously acheive.
Back to Whitehorse at the end of the day, where I found a beer and wine store had come up with an interesting solution to the problem of people loitering about the parking lot. Apparently some customers would sit on the parking barricades and enjoy the beverages they had just purchased. The propietor of the establishment basically pounded a bunch of nails through some boards and fastened these boards to the barricades, pointy side up. Ha! Take that, you parking lot loiterers.
The painted warning said something to the effect of 'caution do not sit on nails' along with several other notices posted about the area.
Yeah, I dunno. Maybe tort law is different up there.
The next day, a little birdie (GOES 11) told me that the weather was improving in Atlin, so south it was.
Atlin and the surrounding mountain tops were still socked in, so we completed the construction and testing of the Taku repeater and link systems.
Here's my partner in crime, expressing his joie de vivre after finally getting the beast to talk back to Whitehorse.
The following day, the clouds were still low so we decided to pay a visit to the camp on the river and fix the systems there.
The day after that the sky was high enough for us to fly! So off we went.
This is the hill we ended up putting the equipment on, Chuunk mountain. See the snow cornice on the higher peak to the right?
Click the thumbnail for a 2700 pixel wide panorama
The view from the top:
Here's the site in place and set up. We piled loose rock about half way up the side of the tote. Took an hour or so and was the best fucking game *evar*. 6800 feet above sea level here.
With that installation complete, we flew down to the camp to test the system end-to-end with another person in Whitehorse. Clear as a 15Khz VHF channel gets, and the users were very excited about the whole thing. Got their HF up and running as well. So now between the improved VHF, the HF, and 2 different sat phones, one hopes that they will be able to talk whenever they need to.
On the way back to Atlin from the Taku we took a different route. Up the Tulsequah river to the Tulsequah glacier and the Mclennan ice field.
The glacier:
Here's Lake No-lake. This drainage butts up against the side of the ice flow and slowly fills with water. After about a month or so enough water has accumulated to lift the ice just enough for it to all flow out underneath the glacier. This causes the river to 'burp' and suddenly change level for a few days.
This is not a great shot of the ice field. It stretches for ever. The pilot told us a story of some fools that set out across is as a shortcut one day and had to be rescued.
I never did find out what made the lakes these vibrant colours.
Stopped off at the Atlin mountain comshel to finish up some last minute things.
And that was the end of that day. Well, almost. We still had to make the drive back to Whitehorse.
On the way, we met up with a custom knifemaker in Tagish Lake, a Mr. Larry Durand. Here are a couple of examples of his work. Larry makes simple hunting knives of a very high quality from flat ground S30V and uses basic wood, bone, and antler handles. He doesn't care much for art knives and has never made a fantasy dagger in his life. I got the impression that he would reluctantly make kitchen knives if pressed to do so. A most enjoyable visit. Larry can be reached at 867-399-3334
The next day we fought our way through the throngs of Holland America Line tourists at the breakfast buffet and formed a sleep deprived plan to make the 7 hour drive north to Dawson City. We have 2 sites there that needed a little TLC before the snow flies. So off we went.
A little fox looking for a handout on the side of the road.
Here's a view of downtown Dawson City.
And the busloads of tourists milling about the entrance to Diamond Tooth Gerties.
This place is funny. If you want to pay cover, they'll gladly take it from you. If you walk right in like you own the place, they'll greet you with a smile and ask how you're doing. The show is funny, the food, not so much.
A bear that didn't wait around for us to get closer in the truck.
The recent discussion here prompted me to take this picture. You had to stand inside for a long time to allow your eyes to adjust enough to see the image with any sort of detail. But it did work.
There's a hotel in Dawson that is the home of the Sourtoe Cocktail. See http://www.sourtoecocktailclub.com for details. All I can say is that this thing is pretty gnarly, and tastes really funky.
Dawson from the air:
We fixed the machines, polished up the flux capacitors, and set the phasers on stun. With our return tickets clutched firmly in hand, it was time to hit the road back to Whitehorse, and end this marathon of tomfoolery. Heading south on whatever highway it is that connects Dawson to Whitehorse, we could make out this funny little dot on the road. As we got closer we could make out Mr. Castor Canadensis dragging some lunch across the highway.
Here's a nice beaver shot for all the guys:
And the last picture I have is of an old roadhouse. These were spaced about a days travel apart along the Klondike trail. Miners on their way to the gold fields could recharge their batteries with a hot meal and a bunk to rest in. For a price. I think the merchants were the real winners in the rush. Not many of the miners were.
And that's it. We flew home, cleaned up our toolboxes, and are now getting ready for the next adventure.