Received this email from Cameron this morning (04 feb):
"Here in Barrow a rabies outbreak has led to arctic foxes and any dog off its lead to be shot on sight. Even in 100-foot walks from one hut to another, I'm very vigilant and always keep an eye behind and around me. Just a few minutes ago I saw prints too large to be a fox, right along the margin of the snowy road I was walking down...and of course for the next minute or so, every shadow or hunk of snow or ice turned, in my mind, into a slavering wild dog. This is a tough place. I took a few minutes to sit at the ice edge today, looking out at open sea just a mile or less away. The ice shelf extended another mile or so out just last week, but in a big storm was blown away...right now all those square miles of ice are headed for Russia. As I sat there I always monitored the ice, scrutinizing every block of ice and every movement of a billowing snow cloud; is it a bear? No, just another block of ice. I have to remember also not to just look for things far away, but close by as well. I like having to be this alert. Today, Lewis Brower, a prominent native man of the community, told me a few things about polar bears, emphasizing that my best defense is to remain alert and observant; what direction is the frozen lake heading? Many of them are alingned North-West to South-East, and that can be useful. What is the sky doing? How about the snow on the ground? Do you see that crack in the ice? Even when tracks look like they've been drifted over with new snow, you can often brush or blow the snow away and see the compacted print beneath it...All in all, all's well here as my preparations continue. It's a balmy 14F and I feel too hot inside the buildings; I spend as much time as I can outside."
Another email sent by cameron in the afternoon (04 feb):
"This morning, well before sunrise, I went out to test some equipment a few hundred yards from the building I'm staying in (picture attached! this is my kinda place!). It was still out, dark but with a clear sky and the 5-degree air was refreshing. As I pounded a stake into the tundra, my eye kept catching a little hump of white off on the horizon. It seemed to be white-yellow rectangle right on the horizon -- as wide as your pinky fingernail at arm's length -- and for some reason it didn't jive with the rest of the lay of the land, it stood out....Instantly my mind screamed "POLAR BEAR" and I froze in postion and then stood there, immobilized for a minute or so, waiting to see if it would move. I felt as though I was in a staring contest. That was a long minute...in those 60 seconds the thing turned and twisted, bent low, then stood and turned towards me, disappeared entirely for a moment, reappeared, and then bent low again before assuming its original postion...Finally I realized -- this was no bear; it was a snow hunk that, staring at too long through the predawn gloom, had warped and wobbled in the clouds of white I breathed out with every breath. It was just a hump of snow that my vigilant mind had sculpted into my greatest fear. At least I didn't ignore it; paranoia has its benefits!"
Below is a photo of the BASC dormitory where Cameron is staying presently
