Tracking Muskox on Somerset Island, Nunavut

Have you aver wondered what It would be like to explore the area north of the Arctic Circle? I’d seen pictures in various books about the north and on line, but never had the opportunity to explore it until recently. My destination was Somerset Island, 800km north of the Arctic Circle, and about 80km south of Resolute Bay, to the most northerly lodge in the world – Arctic Watch.

As our plane started its descent onto a man-made gravel air strip, dozens of beluga whales could be seen swimming around Cunningham Inlet, in the area that would be our home for the next 5 days. Off in the distance I could see the cluster of white tents – sleeping and dining facilities that comprise the lodge. The barren landscape and the turquoise sea were the first sights I saw and remember of our first glimpse of this no-longer inhabited and remote island.  There are so many rich stories, small and large to recount about this adventure but I will focus on one – our muskox “tracking” excursion.  Andy joined me, as well as his sister Pam and her husband, Mark.

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It was a cool crisp morning when 6 of us – Andy, Pam, Mark, Judy, Jim and I piled into the unimog for our next trek, guided by our experienced leader, Dave. A unimog is a multi-purpose four-wheel drive truck originally designed after WWI as a modified tractor. Its off-road capabilities make it suitable for jungles, deserts and mountains and apparently, the Arctic! It is not so fashionable but was just what was required for our purposes.  The terrain on the island is bumpy, rocky, mucky, uneven, and consists of land, streams, and rivers. Our destination on this morning was key and not the surface we would travel over nor the vehicle to take us there.

We were all bundled up in various layers, wearing our bright yellow double-lined jackets. It must be about 0C or maybe 2C. With bated breath and anticipation, we hoped to see muskox but as with any wildlife, they will go where the winds and their noses take them. Maybe we will spot them, and maybe we will not.  Earlier this week, our feet crossed many fresh muskox tracks and we saw and touched soft wool-like fur that they were shedding as they travelled (known as qiviut). We had also spotted the beasts themselves in the far distances, with hills and rivers separating us from the perfect photo and ability to watch closely. They were there on the island for sure. Dave was our driver and guide for the day. If anyone could spot them in the distance, it was him. We would rely on him to reel us in for closer viewing.

We jolted along the road and non-roads, taking in the bleak and barren hills, while keeping a watchful eye for dark spots grazing in the distance. The smell of gas and the roar of the engine drowned out any other sounds, and minimized any small talk.  We were silent in our own thoughts while keeping an eagle eye open for muskox. I was also hanging on tightly to the side as we were jolted around.

Ha, ha! We spotted what we thought were muskox. We stopped. Some had binoculars and pulled those out in unison to have a closer look.  There was not a sound from any of them while Andy and I looked on as only tourists without binoculars could. Then we knew. Indeed, indeed, indeed. There they were – three muskox, chomping away on the sparse vegetation on a far hill, not at all suspecting an audience. These beasts that appear to be left overs from the ice age, pull me in. I gaze, like everyone else for a while. Why this ugly hairy beast with horns has me mesmerized, I cannot say. All I know is that I am. I am north of the Arctic Circle and staring at this majestic beast.

So, we hop back into our spots on the “cattle car” benches. We roll slowly along towards this unsuspecting trio. Slowly, slowly like a movie in slow motion, we carry on.

But, ha, ha! Another dark spot appears on the horizon. We repeat our previous action. We stop. Take off our gloves. Pull out the spy glasses (for those who have them). Alas! There is a 4^th muskox on a different hill but not far from the trio and in close proximity to our destination.

So, we sat back down on the benches in the open air of the Unimog and we roll as close as we can get easily. We descend. We pull out our cameras. We let our feet carry us the rest of the way. We hope that our trek around the pond and up the hill will bring us some muskox joy.

Quietly we sneak closer to the hill. For a few moments, a flock of long tailed geese with their goslings and ducks distract us from our muskox mission. Cameras snap. Geese fly. Squawking is rampant and a V formation of birds fly overhead, telling us not so subtly that we are in their territory and they aren’t too pleased. Some ducks on the pond swim quickly out of site into the surrounding grasses.

We carry on trekking upwards. With us out of their way, geese and ducks are back in the pond as if they had never been disturbed.

Dave checks the direction of the wind. We have a plan. We must stay quiet to get close to the muskox but come from the direction that our scent won’t travel downwind to their grazing grounds. We wouldn’t want them smelling us nor seeing us if we could avoid it. We want to sneak a peak into their window, but do not want to come charging through their front door. Disturbing them would send them running and believe me, they can move. So, we proceed up the last part of the incline in a tight single file. Dave explained that this formation would perhaps be a way to trick the muskox into thinking we were one and not seven individuals, should they spot us. We were decked out in bright yellow parkas after all – fairly easy to see I would imagine. At this point we couldn’t be sure if they were still grazing on the other side of the hill. If they were there, our goal was not to scare them off but quietly observe them in their natural habitat and of course takes tons of photos.

Our conga line was rewarded – 4 not 3 muskox stood about 200 metres from us. Cameras flung up silently. The group seemed to have noticed us, but appeared unperturbed. I really don’t know how long we gazed at these hairy creatures but we were awe struck. Time seemed to stop. I slinked closer, taking pictures from different angles, crouching low because there was no tree to hide behind. At some point, the snow started falling. Here we were in the high Arctic. It was snowing in mid July and we had front row seats for the muskox show. The experience just couldn’t get better.

As Dave noticed our enthusiastic delight, he suggested we have a gander for the lone muskox we also saw earlier. It could have joined the group we were watching now or no longer be where we originally saw it, or on the other hand, our lone muskox could still be around the corner to provide us with another show. So, back down we crouched and followed Dave away from the muskox group.  Then, Dave turned to us and whispered that we would have a new strategic approach. Instead of the single file conga line formation, we would be better positioned if we were to approach in a chorus line formation. Quietly, and in military precision (well, no, not really it was more of a squiggly line), we crept up the hill. Lo and behold! Muskox #5 stood 100 meters in front of us!  Although I don’t think we disturbed him too much, he clearly saw us. He started pawing the ground – an aggressive move Dave whispered. Then he moved away slightly to a patch of dirt and started digging in his horns alternatively. Dave informed us that this was another aggressive move related to scent and preparing himself “just in case.” The muskox stood there for quite a while. We didn’t seem to threaten him. We stayed quiet and still with the exception of shutters clicking in photo op style. He eventually went back to grazing as if seven people weren’t staring him down.

The snow continued to fall as we watched.  I thought about how amazing it was that these creatures could survive on such a meager diet. There are not lots of greens to be seen – just small low-lying Arctic flowers and plants dotting the gravel and mud here and there. It is mid summer. I wonder how they fare in winter?

Just another day in the Arctic – a day I will never forget.