Trenton 01:15
We had gotten to Trenton a little too early, as we had left Kitchener ahead of time to ensure if the fog got any worse, we would have enough time to make it to the military air terminal. Driving through the airbase loomed massive aircraft shrouded in fog, with even larger hangars and military buildings lined with flood lights so tall you could only see the halo they created in the air rather than the light itself.
Even without the massive military complex consuming the entire east-end of town, you can tell Trenton is a military town by the huge LCBO, numerous physiotherapy offices, and the large church with a sign zip tied to the chain-link fence reading “KEEP CHRIST IN CHRISTMAS” across from the WWII cenotaph. Hopefully that paints an accurate image for all of you who haven’t been. I am slightly exaggerating; it does seem like a nice town. The downtown area reminds a little of Stratford with small storefronts and decorated streetlights. There’s just the occasional little things to remind you of where or what loomed on the east-end surrounded by fence and barbed wire.
I was starting to feel a little uneasy about what I was walking into. Not that I had made the wrong decision, but I was starting to feel completely out of my depth seeing all this military stuff. When we posted up outside the airport, waiting for someone else to arrive or get closer to the actual time I was supposed to be there (3:00am), it only amplified of what I was about to do.
Around 2:30am, a taxi van pulled up and 3 guys started to unload into the airport, and we realized that the door was open the whole time. Mom asked me if I was going to be ok, and I replied with, “I am feeling a little scared,”, and I totally didn’t almost cry when mom left for Kitchener.
Trenton 05:15
I completely underestimated how much waiting there would be. Around 3:15am once everyone got to the terminal, we were ushered through security quickly and placed in a dingy waiting room that felt more out of a Saw movie than an RCAF base. And there we sat…and waited…and waited. Shout out to Simin and Ken for staying up to keep me from falling asleep even though you completely exhausted your funny pics storage from your camera roll.
In hindsight, the military operates in two ways:
- Sit and wait for something to happen.
- SOMETHING IS HAPPENING, IT IS HAPPENING NOW.
Because when we were loaded onto the plane, all the other guys were returners and already knew where to put their carry-ons, how to latch the seatbelt together, knew the safety debrief et cetera. The plane engine had roared to life before we got on making it impossible to hear anything. So, there I stand, deer in headlights (which will be a common theme), thinking “what the fuck is going on.” Though, walking to the cargo hull to throw my B25 arctic kit into, I did think, “this is so sick” and was glad I was wearing a mask because I was smiling so hard.
Inside the plane, I didn’t catch a word of the safety debrief that the load master was speed-running through, but I nodded anyway because we could all hear the engine getting louder and louder as the propellers sputtered to life and knew what it meant aka IT WAS TIME TO GO.
On Route to Iqaluit 07:35
Around an hour in, the load master let us know it was alright to unbuckle and move around. Almost immediately everyone claimed a place to lay down on the cargo or on the empty seats leaving me to find a small nook next to a secured new Honda ATV. I mostly watched the windows once the sun rose enough to see anything or looked around taking in the sights of the plane like the beige curtain concealing the portapotty or the thousands of pounds of cargo towering behind me.
You know that fog that has been swallowing southern Ontario? It looked much prettier from above. This giant ceiling of cloud lasted for a good hour of flight from Trenton to wherever we were.
I am not sure where exactly we were when I took this photo, but we were heading into and over Quebec. Originally, I believe the flight plan was to go straight to Thule, but we needed to refuel in Iqaluit.
The served box lunch was surprisingly good. A ham and cheese ciabatta, yogurt, juice box, muffin, milk. We would get another one later on that had some weird guacamole looking salad in it, but I wasn’t hungry.
There was a total of 7 of us, mostly retired military and two younger guys from Iqaluit who I later realized still had to fly from Iqaluit to Trenton only to maybe to stop in Iqaluit for fuel. They need to go to Trenton either way because flights are not ensured to stop in Iqaluit for any number of reasons. The flight crew consisted of the load master who mostly sat in the cabin with us and did cargo checks every half an hour (officially I believe his other title was the aircraft tech), and the two pilots.
We wore ear protection the entire time, and I had my parka on as well as the cabin was not heated the same way a commercial flight would be, though you could warm your hands on the refrigerator unit that also acted as the main relax pad if you climbed up the suspension straps.
Iqaluit 10:30
It was only around -10 in Iqaluit, and the sky looked like it was nearing dusk. I couldn’t snap a photo of it, but the full moon was large and crested over one of the snow hills. It looked magical against the light blue and purple sky.
In the small rest-stop, I finally had a conversation with someone. One of the retired miliary guys now working for Nasittuq – the civilian contractor company that services Alert, named Mark. He is a power grid tech of some sort, and he would be my main source of information as I was feeling embarrassed about asking so many questions. He basically verified my assumption that many of these guys had been to Alert over several dozen times and were extremely well-versed in the going-ons.
On Route to Pituffik Space Base, Greenland 11:15
Now somewhat used to the plane, I pretty much passed out after lifting off. It seemed everyone else was in the same mind as well. The load master even signaled to us that we could walk around a few times just in case we missed it the first time, but everyone seemed spent.
Did you know the Thule Air Base was renamed to the Pituffik Space Base in April? It was renamed to recognize Greenlandic heritage, as well as update the name to reflect its usage as a ‘Space Base’ aka where they can tell where ballistic missiles are coming from AHEM RUSSIA- sorry is that too political for what is essentially a travel blog? The retired military guys are pretty liberal with how they talk about the use for Alert and Pituffik. In fact, I think I heard them talk about Russia MORE than really anything else. Anyway, Pituffik is important in many ways. One as its use to the United States military for its obvious geographic advantage, two as an almost mandatory stop for the Canadian Forces as it is the most common overlay for flights up to Alert and last truly populated destination until Alert, and three as its use as a commercial airport for only one airline – Air Greenland.
Greenland is territory of the Kingdom of Denmark which I didn’t even know had a kingdom, and Pituffik Space Base is operated by the United States. So, I was in an aircraft owned by the Royal Canadian Air Forces heading to an American military base owned by Greenland which is a territory of Denmark. Call me Mr. Worldwide.
Pituffik Space Base 15:45
You know I really thought I was getting the hang of things, knowing what to expect and all that. Yeah, I felt really confident until the entire plane went dark. Engines cut, an ominous green emergency light cast an eerie glow, and a siren whirred to life. I looked around. Everyone seemed…unbothered. Mark took out a pocket flashlight and placed it in his breast pocket which I don’t think made anything any better because it was also dark outside. I had officially entered the land of eternal darkness (that is until March where it becomes the land of the midnight sun).
The plane lurched as something attempted to pull us. It lurched a few more times before it started to roll closer to the sirens and flashing amber lights. The Danes really know how to make you feel welcome. Or should I say the Americans? Greenlandians? I don’t know, we are really mincing words here.
By the way they took us into the hangar, I later figured out. A fourth reason why Pituffik is so important – the planes have a little place to call it quits away from the elements. Those doors are so big and heavy they are on train tracks and require that siren to make sure everyone is damn well out of the way. Would have been nice to know before I accepted my fate.
The load off was relatively fast. Passport checked by a guy who could barely pronounce Hodgkinson in a thick accent, instructions to meet in the Inn lobby for 7:30am for a taxi back to the aircraft, carry-on slung over my shoulder as I followed the rest of the group outside to the North Star Inn (apart of the Air Force Inn cluster owned by the USAF). It was approximately -30 degrees outside and pitch black, with the full moon high in the sky.
God, this is so sick.
***
The Inn (where I am currently) is very nice, clean, and most importantly, has Wi-Fi. And hot water and heating. Lots of it. Some would argue it’s actually too hot (me, I would argue it is too hot).
Around 5:00pm I braved the dining hall, and on the way spotted some very cute arctic foxes. My local guide, Mark, had already visited the dining hall so I was on my own to figure out how to load the meal card and in general, figure out what I was doing.
So yeah, I asked for help.
The dining hall was honestly bad vibes. Barely anyone there, TVs on mute so you can make sure you can hear everyone else eating. I basically beelined to the first food I saw which was a burger station. It’s buffet style with tongs, metal inserts full of food that’s sat for at least an hour before reaching your mouth, and apparently a chef that eyes everyone who walks in. Or at least he eyed me and then told me there was turkey at the other buffet as I grabbed a burger.
“Ma’am! There is turkey over there!” I couldn’t see where he was pointing because I was currently serving myself a burger.
“Sorry?”
“Turkey! Over there!” People were starting to look our way.
“Uh, okay? Thanks.” I quickly walk away, burger and potato wedges on my plate.
I couldn’t find the drinks and hadn’t brought my water bottle so you can imagine my immeasurable disappointment as I bite into the driest bun I had ever tasted in my life with no liquid in sight and no more bravery in the tank to enter the buffet area to find some. I finished my wedges and tossed half the burger in the trash, speed-walking back to the Inn.
Maybe the universe felt a bit bad about the chef and my dry burger. As I walked over the small metal bridge, I watched as a beautiful white arctic fox scurry from around a corner and stop dead in its tracks as it spots me walking towards it. Its friend, a soot black scruffy one, followed close behind but hadn’t seen his friend stop. He crashed into his friend. The white one whipped around and ran back behind the corner as the black one looked around confused before seeing me who had since stopped to watch this unfold, turned tail, and ran after his friend.
Arctic Foxes have two colour morphs. A well-known white morph. The famous white arctic fox, perfectly suited for the arctic with a snow-white coat in the colder months and a brown-sandy coat in the summer. Apparently, from my google search after I got back, a blue morph also exists. While they seem to be common here, I think they are slightly rarer in general to the white morph. They aren’t blue, but black or a sooty-grey and stay that colour year-round. I am sure they are quite successful in the dark months around the Pituffik dining hall garbage bins.
Other than the cute foxes that hang out around the garbage bins, there are a few other interesting observations which when you think of it, make sense. Everyone leaves their trucks on (first of all, everyone drives a truck unless you’re a Pituffik taxi, you have a red van with enormous tires). At dinner, there were at least 20 trucks neatly parked in rows, headlights, and engines on but no driver in sight. When you walk into the dining hall, you have a boot cleaner to wipe the snow off lest you track it into the tiled buffet, a bootie cover dispenser, and a huge room FULL of coat racks. Once you see the coatrack room, you start seeing coatracks everywhere. And no that’s not a metaphor for anything. Look in any room, a classic four corner room. ¼ of those corners has a coatrack.
^Average Pituffik fit for going to dinner (it is a 2 minute walk)
After dinner, I was pretty tired, so I postponed the shower until tomorrow morning and hit the sack. The nice thing about being up here is that it’s dark all the time so your room with the lights off is always complete darkness.
Pituffik Space Base 05:30, The Next Day
In bed by 6pm and awake at 5am? God, I am already adjusted to the military.
After a quick shower with surprisingly very hot water, I headed back out to the dining hall to hopefully have a better breakfast. And a better breakfast it was! I found the love of my life.
Danish pastries.
They must know these pastries are a fan-favourite because they were stacked on top of each other in a large serving bowl. Small flaky pastry squares with a small amount of custard and frosting. Honestly, with the news I am about to share, these pastries are really saving the day.
Hangar 7, Pituffik Space Base 07:45am
We loaded into the plane and waited. The engines roared to life, and we all put our ear protection on. My soundproof earmuffs had hurt my ears, so I opted for earplugs. The flight to Alert from Pituffik is only an hour and a half and assumed I would snooze for most of it.
We waited. Waited. And waited. The plane had turned off and on about 3 times. Sometimes it leaned to one side when the engines would be revved and everyone falsely assumed we had started to move, but to no avail.
My toes were starting to freeze in my hiking boots, and I desperately tried to snuggle into my parka, but they had the cabin door open to the elements.
Finally, after two hours of waiting, the pilot ordered us off the plane allowing us to warm up in the hangar rather than brute force the cold wind spilling in from the open door. I took this opportunity to shove two hot-hands warm packs into my boots.
We waited for another 30 minutes inside a small, heated hallway as the hangar’s door was open and equally as cold.
The pilot finally joined us and gave us the bad, badder, and baddest news.
Bad news number one: One of the planes engines had flooded with six gallons of oil and was broken beyond repair. They’d need a new engine.
Bad news number two: The flight crew had been on rotation all week straight, and they needed to be back in Trenton. The military had stopped people from collecting time-off in situations like this years ago, so unless they wanted to break regulations and work for free, the chance of us getting to Alert that day was none.
Bad news number three that somehow justifies the other bad news: Alert was in a huge cloud of ice fog. The chance of us landing there would’ve been extremely slim anyway.
I’ll spare you the details of the hundreds of different ways this could have played out with getting a new plane with a new engine in the next day, that plane taking us back or taking us to Alert, being stranded in Greenland for a week, etc.
Long story short: I will be flying BACK to Trenton, Ontario tomorrow (Friday, December 29th) and hopping on the next flight out (Tuesday, January 2nd). I could basically taste Alert in the air. 800km away. Hour and a half flight.
So, how many hours of travel does that make?
Well:
3 hour car ride from KW to Trenton
8 hours from Trenton to Pituffik
8 hours from Pituffik to Trenton
3 hour car ride back to KW
8 hours from Trenton back to Pituffik
By the time I get back to Pituffik hopefully next week, I’d have clocked a whopping 30 hours of travel time. A week only has 168 hours in it. Remove an average of 8 hours per day sleeping, that makes roughly 112 hours. Remove extraneous waiting times as the military likes to make us do and I’d expect 98 hours free. That’s almost 40% of a remaining week, just travel.
The arctic coordinator joked that I am getting the FULL Alert experience, and honestly, I wouldn’t have it any other way.
***
Surprisingly, I don’t really feel any which way about the added travel hours. Of course, I am upset I couldn’t get to Alert on the first go at it, but overall, I am just enjoying the process even if it’s a relatively frustrating process.
The dining hall has grown on me, and I quite like just grabbing food with no choices involved. And I figured out how to open the window in my room so I can finally stop sweating.
I don’t think the rest of the blog entries will be this long. I think I will treat this blog as a genuine LOG of what I do. I joked that when I am old and with Alzheimer’s, I can relive these memories. Hopefully, I remember how to read.
So, that concludes the first go at getting to Alert. Of course, anything could happen tomorrow so I can’t really say ‘concludes’ definitively. Until then, I will sleep, eat, and idk wander around my 10 x 10 room. I will be able to grab more of those delicious danishes and hard-boiled eggs tomorrow for breakfast and then again when I inevitably come back for ANOTHER lay over next week.
Life is good.
Alert-120 
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