I’m not what you would call very mechanical. I wish I was, and darn it mechanical skills should be innate. Shouldn’t they? Luckily I live in a place where everyone else is a small engine mechanic. It is not unusual to come across someone on the land, tarp filled with parts spread out beside their snowmobile, replacing a piston in their machine. I’ll walk over with the rest of the men and play the part, peer and nod knowingly, but truthfully my mind is going "How could anyone do this out here? Look at all of those parts. I wonder what those pieces are for? I wonder if tea is ready? Where did I put that chocolate bar?"
Leah’s brothers and father are all part of this cult of engine wizards. This, is a good thing. Honestly you need to be up here, there are no garages, no dealers, no warranty work. Resourcefulness is a common trait up here, and probably has been for untold generations.
One of my favourite stories of resourcefulness comes from when I was still a member, and involved in search and rescue. One summer day the Search and Rescue committee got a call that a couple of men from the community failed to return from an evening of hunting the day before. They were only expected to be gone for a couple of hours and it was now almost 24 hours later. When we finally got a boat and search team organized a thick fog had rolled in, and the searchers and searchees missed each other as the searchees returned to town.
They had been out in the middle of Admiralty Inlet when the prop fell off their boat! After a bit they rooted around the bottom of the boat and found some metal from which they fashioned their own prop! To be sure they could only travel very slowly but they could travel, so they headed over to the nearest shore and began walking back. After a little while they found an old boat prop on the shore and so they headed back to their boat. It was, of course, the wrong make of prop that wouldn’t fit their motor, but that wasn’t a really a problem, they modified it so it would fit!
My point is that I am not like that. Sorry to say if it had been me I’d have been bobbing around in the middle of Admiralty Inlet, hoping that someone found me before I’d be forced to eat my companions.
Our four-stroke snowmobile needs a new alternator, which is very expensive. I finally found someone down south to rebuild our old alternator, a much cheaper (but not cheap) solution. Three bolts and two electrical connections and its still sitting there, undone. I was flummoxed at the first electrical connection I tried to disconnect.
A couple of weeks ago I dug the ATV out of its snowbank, and over the course of a couple of days got it started again. It did not want to stay running, but after I took it on a short run it stayed idling, until the moment I went back in the House. Then it stopped, and would not start again, and there had been something leaking from it. So there it sat.
Getting around town on her snowmobile was becoming increasingly problematic. We are rapidly losing our snow cover in town, and most of the roads are increasingly bare. So on Friday one of Leah’s brothers stopped by to look at the ATV. After a couple of nanoseconds he pronounced the problem as a frozen carberator and took the ATV back to his place.
So on Saturday I needed to whip down to the store to pick up some stuff for the baking Leah was taking to a table sale. One of the tires on the truck was low and rather than pump it up, I hopped on Leah’s snowmobile, went down the hill to the ice, scooted across the bay and parked across from the store, only one road to cross. I ran in, jumped on the machine and scooted back across the bay, almost. The snowmobile suddenly stopped, and wouldn’t start again so I walked home. There I pumped up my tire and drove Leah to the table sale.
Then her brother brought back the ATV, fixed. Leah once again had a vehicle to get around in, and her brother went and got the snowmobile and took it home to fix. Sunday we learned that the oil reservoir had broken and the oil drained out. Even I know that when it comes to engines, oil is a good thing, and while he initially thought that one of the pistons was blown (we had a spare) he later determined it was only stuck. No idea when it would be fixed though.
But I wanted to go check out the Gyrfalcons. "Why don’t you take the four-wheeler?" Leah asked. Great idea, it would be a slower trip covering the eight or nine kilmetres out there, and colder as it doesn’t have a windshield, but the way is smooth and snow packed, shouldn’t be a problem. Wrong. About a kilometre out the ATV slowed, and slowed, and stopped, and wouldn’t start again. So, once again I was walking home. I borrowed another machine and once again I was towing one of ours back to Leah’s parent’s place. And there it sits, a bit more of a puzzle for her brother.
I’m pretty sure that I’m going to be barred from anything other than the truck, and Leah was forced to hitch a ride out of town to meet the dog team racers from Nunavut Quest. Tomorrow they finish their last leg of the race here in town. I’ll be there. I’m walking down to watch.
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The story of the improvised propeller sounds like a level of engineering genius above even the most gifted fix-it guys i know. I always thought the Inuit must be one of the most technologically sophisticated – or, as you say, resourceful – societies on the planet.
“I’d have been bobbing around in the middle of Admiralty Inlet, hoping that someone found me before I’d be forced to eat my companions”
Well, that sounds pretty resourceful to me. ;^P
I recall hearing that story about the improvised prop from a colleague at the school and feeling utterly amazed that a feat like that was humanly possible.
My housemate’s machine conked out back in late March and I could only nod dumbly as he explained about the part he was having sent up and how he would fix it.
As for bobbing around in Admiralty Inlet, it would take a lot of corpulent companions to save my rather lean frame.
Came here from Pete’s. Terrific post; like you I am awestruck by people who can fashion working mechanical objects out of scrap, and get themselves out of a fix.
I think two major things, historically, have contributed to this resourcefulness Dave. Time, and very limited resources. They had the time (and more importantly took the time) and had to make do with whatever they could find. It continued in the modern era as there just isn’t the resources (or they are unaffordable) up here. Another story I like to relate to illustrate it is this…
My first partner up here was posted on Holman Island prior to coming up here. He was out hunting with a friend when they got a flat tire on the ATV. The friend got out his tire patch kit only to discover that someone had borrowed the last plug and didn’t replace it. When
Brian asked what they were going to do his friend replied “Have tea”. So they made tea and he sat thoughtfully drinking it. After tea, he got up fired a round off with his rifle, and then took the rifle casing and used it as a plug for the tire. They had to pump the tire several times on the way home, but it worked.
Oh I have strong survival instincts Pete, they just don’t have anything to do with Mechanics.
Always travel with corpulent companions up here Darcy. For some reason I can’t stop thinking about the Monty Python sketch of the fellows in the life boat. “Well lads, I’ve got a gamey leg, you can eat me.”
“What? With a gamey leg?”
Cross posted with you Beth, welcome. I’m always intimidated when people find me through Pohanginapete. After reading his great (sorry GREAT) prose and seeing his fantastic photography they are bound to be disappointed here.
Kia ora Clare,
I am stopping by on advice from Pohangina Pete as well. Excellent post and blog I forward to perusing. I am much like you, my use of vehicles is measured in getting from a to b, and mechancial appreciation very limited. Sort of the two theories put forth in Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance. Some see the beauty in the machine itself, others in the beauty it allows them to see. I grew up in Wisconsin and always had a snow mobile, yet I seemed to always do a lot of walking away from my broken down machine! Have a great day.
Ka kite,
Robb
Clare, I’d prefer it if you were delighted rather than intimidated! I encouraged people to come here and read this post because it’s a great story, well told, with wicked humour, and it gives us an excellent insight into life in the Arctic. And that’s characteristic of your blog.
Thanks for the compliment, though. For my part, I wish I had the ability to post half as often as you — I’m pretty sure building a sense of community around a blog depends to a large degree on frequent posting and presenting something to reward readers. You do both, very well.
Welcome Robb, New Zealand via Wisconsin eh? Interesting where life takes us. I’m anxious to get at least one of our machines back (not as anxious as Leah) I’ve got to get out and see what the Gyrfalcons are up to.
I am delighted Pete. And the intimidation comment was meant as a compliment. I wish I had half of your skills with writing. Thank you for both your kind words and for pointing your readers this way. Now about those lamb shanks….
Kia ora Clare,
It was interesting last evening explaining to my 14 year old son about snow mobiles. Growing up in Wisconsin they were literally all over the place. In the late 60’s and early 70’s it seemed everyone made them, hence a tendency to also break down with regularity as well. Yet here in New Zealand he has never even seen one, though he is a keen moto cross rider, and now wants a trip to the states this winter to ride one! I had a lot of memorable times riding in northern Wisconsin, but of course that was for fun, not necessity. Have a great day.
Ka kite ano,
Robb
Robb,
I imagine a snowmobile is a strange concept in the South Pacific. You have ski resorts there don’t you? They must have the machines for the slopes?
I have to admit that I think of the snowmobile as a mode of transportation, not fun in and of it self. That comes from my youth when my favourite reply to going snowmobiling for the sake of snowmobiling was “Why don’t we take the truck, open the windows, turn off the heat and throw oily gasoline on our clothes instead?”
But I do enjoy the ride now. Especially the non-smelly, quiet four stroke if only it would work.