Tuesday, 30 August 2011 09:54 Written by Levon Sevunts

Interesting news from Russia today.

ExxonMobil and Russia's state-owned oil company, Rosneft, have signed a Strategic Cooperation Agreement that paves the way for joint exploration and development of hydrocarbon resources in the Russian Arctic, in southern Russia, as well as the United States and other countries throughout the world. 

The agreement, signed Wednesday morning by Rosneft President Eduard Khudainatov and ExxonMobil Development Company President Neil Duffin in the presence of Russian Prime Minister Vladimir Putin, calls for about US $3.2 billion to be spent funding exploration of East Prinovozemelskiy Blocks 1, 2 and 3 - an area of about 126,000 square kilometers (30 million acres) in water depths ranging between 50 and 150 meters (165 feet and 500 feet) - in the Kara Sea and in the waters off Black Sea resort town of Tuapse.

The companies are also planning to create an Arctic Research and Design Center for Offshore Developments in St. Petersburg to be staffed by Rosneft and ExxonMobil employees. The center will develop new technology to support the joint Arctic projects, including drilling, production and ice-class drilling platforms, the companies claimed.

Interestingly enough the agreement with ExxonMobil comes just months after Rosneft's $16 billion partnership deal with BP  was scuttled by a shareholder revolt.

Friday, 18 March 2011 15:22 Written by Levon Sevunts

Monday, 20 December 2010 18:24 Written by Levon Sevunts

A polar bear looks in the window of a tundra buggy as tourists take photographs near Churchill, Man. Canada Thursday Nov. 2, 2006.(CP PHOTO/Jonathan Hayward)

It's one of the most fascinating mysteries in the Arctic: What is happening with polar bears?

It depends on who you ask. Scientists who study these majestic Arctic predators have - with a few exceptions - been sounding the alarm over the future of polar bears. In the long and medium term, they are worried about how climate change might affect the bears' primary habitat - the sea ice. It's simple: polar bears need sea ice to hunt, live and breed. If there is no sea ice, there are no polar bears. In the short term, the scientists are concerned about overhunting.

Ask the Inuit who have been sharing the Arctic with polar bears for the millenia, and they'll tell you a different story. The Inuit will tell you that far from going extinct the number of polar bears has actually increased dramatically over the last half century. In the 1950's there were an estimated 5,000 polar bears across the Arctic. Today, they number about 25,000. That's a five-fold increase.

On the frozen ground of Canada's Inuit communities this statistic translates into increased frequency of encounters with polar bears. While some southern cities still have air raid sirens, most Inuit communities have polar bear sirens to warn the residents of approaching bears.

The bears are also a rare source of hard cash for economically strapped Arctic communities. Wealthy southern hunters pay Inuit guides tens of thousands of dollars for the privilege of bagging a bear. In Churchill, Manitoba, tourists shell out thousands for the pleasure of seeing and photographing the bears from the safety of an Arctic buggy.

Polar bear hunts are highly regulated and well-managed. So it is not surprising that many Inuit  hunters see further attempts to limit the polar bear hunt as hypocritical attempts by southerners to impose a solution for a problem the South is responsible for in the first place.

Polar bears will be the subject of my next special report for Eye on the Arctic; expect to see the story at the end of February 2011.

Monday, 20 December 2010 12:41 Written by Levon Sevunts

It's hard to believe but it's almost the end of the year. It's that time - between the madness of Christmas shopping and Boxing Day sales and the New Year's Eve - that we usually look backward to take stock of the year passed. And what a year it has been!

Just a year ago we were making frantic calls to our contacts across Nunavut booking interviews, arranging flights, accommodation, guides and interpreters. There were also early morning or late night calls to our partners overseas, hashing out legal issues and poring over contracts (copyright can be such a pain in the butt). Then there was shopping - everything from thermal underwear to winter boots that would keep us warm in one of the world's harshest environments. And did I mention the mad dash to create this website?!

My own Arctic adventure ended in April when I came back to my regular job as the producer of The Link, RCI's flagship English-language daily radio show.

But I came back to The Link reinvigorated and with renewed passion for all things Arctic. Just look at this list of stories that we covered on The Link. These are fascinating interviews with leading experts, scientists, activists, thinkers and artists.

But there is more to come. Our team at The Link looks forward to covering more Arctic stories and collaborating with the Eye on the Arctic in 2011. And in Februrary I'll be putting my reporter hat back on to work on more stories, including a piece on efforts to protect polar bears and the controversy these proposals are causing in many Arctic communities.

Here are some of the stories The Link contributed to Eye on the Arctic this year:

University of Alberta Circumpolar Institute Turns 50

Canada's Inuit Ravaged by Tuberculosis

Protection Closer for Canada's Ecologically Fragile Lancaster Sound

Sovereignty and Security, Climate Change and Development Affecting Arctic Communities: Report

The Great Wet North? Precipitation in Arctic Cause for Concern

Report Raises Alarm About Arctic Oil Spills

Canadian Inuit Worry About Dangers Facing Ecologically Sensitive Marine Area

Combatting Climate Change Through Geo-Engineering Not an Option

Canadian Theatre Performance looks at North-South Relationships

Having Faith in the Polar Girls' Prison: Book Review

Impressive Little Migrating Arctic Shorebird Threatened

Muslim Community in the Arctic Celebrates Arrival of Mosque

Competing for Arctic Riches: A Backgrounder

Canadian Arctic Muslim Community Expectantly Awaits Delivery of Mosque to Replace Trailer

Shipping Risks in the Northwest Passage: Fuel Tanker Aground

Inuit Win Injunction on Seismic Testing

Inuit and Environmental Perspectives on Seismic Mapping

Arctic Architecture: Focus on Cold Climate Structures

Canadian Climate Change Bill Under Fire

Seismic Testing in Lancaster Sound, Nunavut Under Scrutiny

Canadian Seabirds at Risk in the Gulf of Mexico

Northern Development: Canadian Premier Searches for Investors

New Canadian Oil Drilling Regulations Raise Concerns

NWT Wants Approval to Impose Bathurst Caribou Hunting Ban

Melting Arctic Ice Reveals Hunting Weapons

Tuesday, 20 April 2010 15:32 Written by Levon Sevunts

Tom Smitheringale Photo Gallery

I slept in this morning. After last night's vodka and lard with the Ukrainians, I didn't feel like waking up for an early breakfast - I was still feeling full all of those calories.

I showered, enjoying every bit of those fancy European shampoos, body lotions and soap that sat on the shelf of my room at the Thule Air Force base in Greenland.

I made myself a cup of coffee and tried one last time to call that mysterious number somewhere in Canada – I'm still not sure whether it's in Trenton or Ottawa – to get booked on that C-17 flight that's taking the U.S. ambassador and Tom Smitheringale to Ottawa. From there it's just an hour-and-a-half drive to Montreal.

But no luck... There was no answer on the other end. I left a polite phone message, hoping that someone would call me back, but I knew deep in my heart that it was to no avail.

So it was off to Winnipeg; at least I would see the city. And if we got there early enough I might even get a flight to Montreal the same night!

I had time to check my email messages, catch up with a bit of work and then it was quarter to noon: time to pack up and meet the Hercules crew that would be taking me and Dave to Winnipeg.

We called in a minivan and piled all our belongings in for the short ride to the airport. The minivan pulled in right up to the Herc and we quickly loaded all our luggage and then went into the aircrew lounge to wait for the C-17 that was bringing the American ambassador and Tom here, to Thule. They would be heading to Ottawa after their short stopover.  

Brief reunion with Tom Smitheringale

Tom Smitheringale profile. Photo Levon Sevunts

The C-17 landed quietly, carrying its bulk with the powerful grace of a super heavyweight boxer.

It taxied in right in front of the windows of the aircrew lounge and unlike in Alert, nobody even blinked when I stepped out onto the porch to snap a few pictures of the aircraft's high-powered visitors.

I immediately picked up Tom Smitheringale, towering at least a head over every other passenger, as he walked out gingerly and headed right towards me.

His gait seemed more sure and less painful and he appeared surprised and pleased to see me as he reached out his hand for a handshake.

Tom Smitheringale. Photo Levon Sevunts

I squeezed it ever so slightly, afraid of hurting his frostbitten fingertips. He looked more rested than just a day ago, but still somewhat dazed. On his first day in Alert he had seemed remarkably energetic for someone who had gone through such an ordeal and I realize now that he must have still been going on the adrenalin rush of his rescue.

When we met him three days later, after returning from Ward Hunt Island, you could see that adrenaline rush was starting to wear off and the immense fatigue of 49 days battling the elements in the harshest environment on this planet were starting to set in.

Yet his recovery seemed almost miraculous. His face still bore the scars inflicted by the Artic winter: frostbite marks on his nose and his cheeks, and of course the blackened tips of his fingers. But he seemed to have put on more weight since I last saw him (he confirmed that he had already gained 5kg during his stay in Alert). And his fingers didn't seem as bad. Tom said he had regained some sensation and that he was optimistic that doctors would be able to save them all. 

Tom Smitheringale frostbitten fingers. Photo Levon Sevunts

He spoke in a quiet voice, bordering on a mumble as if he almost forced the sound from his drained body, as we chatted and joked about the media circus waiting for him upon his arrival in Ottawa, Ontario, Canada.

He said he had already spoken with his mom, who'd be waiting for him in Ottawa along with an Australian TV crew. "I think I'm going to be grounded," he said with a wide grin. 

We sat at the aircrew lounge and Tom patiently answered questions from the Herc crew. They were part of the 435 Search and Rescue Squadron based in Winnipeg. They would have been the ones to go and look for him had it not been for Operation Nunalivut 10, which had placed a civilian helicopter and two Twin Otter planes at Alert and Ward Hunt Island plus at least five SAR techs (search and rescue technicians) who accompanied the Ranger patrols as medics for the duration of the exercise.

Tom Smitheringale chatting with Canadian C-130 air crew. Photo Levon Sevunts

Maj. March Pettitt, commander of the Herc, calculated that in normal circumstances it would have taken them at least 10 to 11 hours to get to Tom's location. Then they would have had to parachute two SAR techs, who would have cared for Tom until Canadian Forces were able to scramble one of the search and rescue helicopters stationed a thousand kilometers away, on Canada's Atlantic coast, to pick them up from the ice pan. Even with the weather cooperating – and that is a big IF – it could have taken two or three days before they could extract Tom to safety. Who knows what would have been the extent of his frostbite injuries by then.

But with all those assets in place for the exercise, it took Canadian Forces only six hours from the moment Tom activated his distress signal to rescue him.

Tom Smitheringale talking to Maj. Marsh Pettitt. Photo Levon Sevunts

"That's luck. That's just 'buy a lottery ticket' kind of luck," Maj. Pettitt summed up everybody's feelings.

Monday, 19 April 2010 09:00 Written by Levon Sevunts

Canadian Forces C-17 Globemaster lands in Alert

Well it's time to say goodbye to Alert. And this time we're traveling in style: Dave Brosha and I are going to have the privilege of flying in Canada's newest acquisition, the C-17 Globemaster transport plane. It has four jet engines and it's bigger and faster than the venerable C-130 Hercules, the workhorse of the Canadian military.

Canadian Forces have only four C-17's but they are incredibly proud of their new acquisition, especially since they managed to land the C-17 on Alert's frozen gravel runway a couple of days ago.

Unlike the Herc where we sat in net seats along the cabin, the C-17 has rows of airline passenger seats in front and two brand new toilets that actually have doors (in the Herc all you have is a basic toilet with a curtain around it). It still has that brand new car smell.

Dave Brosha, a freelance photographer and writer from Yellowknife and I have the plane to ourselves and about 20 feet of leg room! We're flying to Thule, Greenland.

Thule is an American airbase that Canadians often use for stopovers and refueling on the way to Alert. I'm quite surprised to find this out.

With all the jingoistic rhetoric we have heard in the Canadian media about the Canadian-Danish dispute over the tiny Hans Island, a rocky outcrop situated between Ellesmere Island and Greenland, one would think that Canada and Denmark were about to go to war over it. Yet the truth of the matter is, despite our disagreements over Hans Island and the maritime boundary in the Lincoln Sea, we actually cooperate with Danes and Americans in the Arctic. In fact, Canada would be hard pressed to maintain its presence in Alert without annual flights from Thule that re-supply Alert with fuel.

In Thule we're supposed to get on the same Herc that brought us to Alert and fly to Winnipeg. But the C-17 is supposed to go back to Alert, pick up the U.S. ambassador and fly back to Ottawa with a brief stopover in Thule.

I'd like to get on that flight but for some reason the military brass has decided to fly me all the way to Winnipeg, in the very center of Canada. I'm guessing that they don't want me on the same flight as the ambassador. I'm a bit frustrated and angry: it's not like I'm going to harass the ambassador or Australian polar adventurer Tom Smitheringale who's taking the same flight. If the ambassador doesn't want to talk to me, he won't! And Tom had already granted me an interview.

Monday, 19 April 2010 05:00 Written by Levon Sevunts

Thule is an impressive place, especially coming out of Alert. Canadians might have the Rangers and their awe-inspiring expertise of operating and surviving in the Arctic, but when it comes to hardware and brute power, one realizes that Canada is an Arctic lightweight.

We checked in the hotel at around 3 p.m. local time and I started making calls to Canada trying to get myself on the flight to Ottawa. After trying seven different numbers and getting on a first name basis with the base phone operator who patiently patched me through as I tried to navigate my way through the military travel bureaucracy, I finally reached an official who promised to look into it and call me back if there was any change.

There was two more hours until dinner, so I ran to the PX store (the U.S. equivalent of CanEX military supermarkets) to get some sandwiches and juice. To my huge surprise I ran into two Ukrainian Air Force officers. I don't know what surprised me the most, the fact that I heard Russian spoken at an American PX store in northern Greenland, or the fact that the Ukrainians had tasked their Il-76 transport planes to work for the Danish military in the High Arctic.

The Ukrainians seemed equally surprised and pleased to find someone who spoke Russian (despite being proud Ukrainians they are all former Soviet Air Force officers whose first language remains Russian). We hit it off immediately and before I knew it I was in a hotel room surrounded by half-a-dozen excited Ukrainian pilots moving furniture to make place for an impromptu dinner of homemade salo, Ukrainian delicacy made of pork lard, with black Russian bread and bottles of Ukrainian Nemiroff vodka, one of the best vodkas for my taste.

They were all from Melitipol, a small provincial city in southeastern Ukraine. My father-in-law is also from Melitopol and it turned out that one of them, Alexander Belov, served in the same unit in Dubno, in Western Ukraine, I had done my compulsory military service in the dieing days of the Soviet Union. It's a small world indeed.

I was deeply touched by their hospitality and somehow felt right at home with them. As vodka glasses filled one after the other we drank to our chance meeting, to our families back home, and the third obligatory toast standing up solemnly to those who lost their lives and many other things. We even drank a toast to the Soviet Union, not the repressive Communist regime of course, but the country that at some point had united and shaped us all for better or worse.

They peppered me with questions about life in Canada and Canada's Ukrainian community. We swapped war stories: some of them had served in Afghanistan during the Soviet occupation and they felt genuine sympathy for Canadians who were losing their lives there now.

We had to break up our party at half past midnight because half of them were on duty the next day.

Sunday, 18 April 2010 16:15 Written by Levon Sevunts

I woke up in the igloo feeling refreshed, but desperately wanting to pee. The temperature inside the igloo was about –5C, outside it was –20C and still windy. That's the downside of winter camping in the Arctic: even for a short trip to the outhouse you have to put on boots, gloves and a tuque. There is not enough space inside the tiny plywood structure to wear a parka, so I left it in the igloo and darted for the outhouse. As I ran, I realized that this must be the world's northernmost outhouse, certainly Canada's northernmost outhouse. So here's a picture of it.

Canada's northernmost outhouse on Ward Hunt Island. Photo by Levon Sevunts

Two nights of sleeping outside were starting to show on my winter gear: my parka had become damper, and much, much colder, the same was true of my down mitts, my tuque and my Baffin boots. I couldn't even pull on my gloves, they were frozen solid. For the first time during this trip I started to feel really cold. I realized that I had to dry up my gear.

Wednesday, 14 April 2010 23:38 Written by Levon Sevunts

You know that you're in a special place when during your orientation briefing they tell you not to feed the wolves that roam around this place freely. "If they come too close to you and you feel threatened, just kick them," we were told. "They'll just go away." Back where I come from you don't let a wolf come anywhere near you, let alone a whole pack. But here they seem rather harmless.

I'm in Alert.

Its official name is Canadian Forces Station Alert (CFS Alert). And this place proudly calls itself "the world's northernmost permanently inhabited settlement." We are indeed at the northernmost tip of Canada, on the northern tip of Ellesmere Island, Nunavut. My coordinates if you want to look it up on Google Earth are: 82° 30′ 0″ N, 62° 19′ 0″ W.

A Wikipedia search will tell you that this place is a "Canadian Forces signals intelligence facility," which means that all the antennas we're not allowed to photograph and film are used to intercept communications across the Arctic Ocean in Russia and perhaps a few other places.

While the Cold War is over, high-tech spooking never went out of fashion it seems.

And with the warming Arctic and the race to claim the riches that are still locked beneath the surface of this frozen ocean, Alert is taking on a new significance. Canada has set its eyes further north, all the way to the North Pole. But so do Russia, the United States, Norway and Denmark (Greenland).

Alert is also a reminder for the rest of the world that Canada is an Arctic power that can operate and extend its reach anywhere in this frozen frozen tundra and ice.

Alert has a feel of a mining camp, spiked up with some military discipline. It's run by a staff of about 70 military and civilian personnel who rotate on six-month assignments. It takes special people to operate in this environment, even with all the comforts of modern life (they serve fresh fruits and vegetables with every meal). I've never seen more cheerful people than here.

Monday, 12 April 2010 02:56 Written by Levon Sevunts

Tomorrow I'm off to Trenton, Ontario. There I'll catch a military transport plane, a Hercules C-130, for the flight to Alert, a military base on the northernmost point of Canada, in Nunavut. The ageing Hercs are the workhorses of not only the Canadian military but also many other armed forces around the world.

The last time I flew in one of them was in May 2005 on my way from a NATO base in Kyrgyzstan (it's been in the news recently) to a U.S. base in eastern Afghanistan, bordering Pakistan. It was one of the the most spectacular flights I've ever taken... and one of the most nerve-racking, especially when the plane started making missile avoidance manoeuvres on the approach to the dusty airfield at Camp Salerno. Even the seasoned airborne soldiers reached for their sickness bags...

I'm usually not afraid of flying, but with the recent news of the plane crash that killed the Polish President Lech Kaczynski and half of his cabinet I'm not relishing the thought of getting into a plane that is probably the same age I am: 40.

I chase away dark thoughts by preoccupying my mind with trying to solve a puzzle: how am I going to fit all my gear into two or three bags.

My gear keeps growing day by day. It's the age of multimedia! I'm carrying a case with a Sony HD video camera (14kg), a Canon 50D digital SLR camera, as well as my bag of radio recording equipment and an assortment of microphones. Then there is my personal winter gear: a parka and snow pants, heavy arctic boots, gloves, mitts, a tuque and a balaclava...

I pine for days when all I needed was a pen and stenopad notebook.