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Lisa's Journal
Sunday, August 20th, 2006
I rise early the next morning to a silent, seemingly abandoned town and feel like I'm the last on earth. I drive around a little, take some notes and snapshots (fortmcpchurch.jpg) and then decide it's time to head to Inuvik since the car is due back at noon. That is, if there was a gas station open. Which there isn't. I've got a quarter tank of gas, no windshield fluid and 187 kms of wet road ahead. Super.
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| Anglican cemetery in Fort McPherson. |
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OK, I think, Tsiigehtchic is on the way; I can get gas there. I get to the Mackenzie River ferry crossing where I have to tell the operator whether I'm going across to Inuvik or slightly upriver to the inaccessible-by-road Tsiigehtchic. I reveal my dilemma. The ferry man takes a long draw from a cigarette. "No gas station open on Sunday. It'll cost you $100 just to get the owner out of bed." He peers in at my gas gauge and concludes there's "plenty of juice" to get me home. He sounds convincing and I want to be convinced. "Perfect," I say, unconvincingly. "To Inuvik, then."
Profile:
Mary Teya
Mary Teya was born north of Fort McPherson and has lived in the delta area all her life. In
addition to being the local Anglican Deacon, she acts as a translator, interpreter and cultural
educator.
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I make it to town but only after staring at the orange fuel warning light, an empty water bottle and a brown, smeary windshield for the final, nail-biting half hour. I think about Mary Teya, with whom I'd spent the previous day-how she'd lived outdoors in the Arctic for most of the year. And I think of myself, vulnerable in my hulking SUV. Pathetic, really.
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In 1922 the RCMP set up their western headquarters in Aklavik.
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