By Douglas Kuluk
A Shared Foundation
When people think of engineering, they often picture blueprints, computer models, and construction equipment. While those are certainly part of my daily work, the truth is that engineering in the Arctic is as much about listening as it is about designing. For decades, northern communities have survived and thrived in some of the harshest conditions on Earth. Their knowledge—passed down through generations—is not just useful, it’s essential.
As an ice road engineer and Arctic infrastructure specialist, I’ve learned that the best solutions don’t come from engineering textbooks alone. They come from blending traditional Indigenous knowledge with modern tools and techniques. This partnership not only creates stronger and safer infrastructure but also builds trust and respect between engineers and the people who depend on our work.
The Value of Indigenous Knowledge
Indigenous communities in the North have been reading the land, the water, and the ice long before modern engineering existed. Elders can predict weather shifts by the movement of animals, the thickness of snow cover, or even the way ice cracks underfoot. Hunters and trappers notice subtle patterns—like where overflow water pools on a frozen lake or how certain winds affect snow drift—that are invaluable for designing safe winter roads.
This type of knowledge doesn’t come from data points; it comes from living in relationship with the land. It’s practical, time-tested, and deeply connected to the environment in a way that science is only beginning to understand. When I began collaborating with First Nations communities, I quickly realized that any project ignoring this wisdom was at risk of failure.
Modern Tools at Our Disposal
Of course, modern engineering brings powerful tools to the table. Satellite imagery allows us to track freeze-up and thaw patterns across hundreds of kilometers. Ground-penetrating radar lets us measure ice thickness in real time, reducing risks for heavy vehicles. Climate models help us plan seasons, while GPS mapping ensures accurate routes and safe navigation.
These technologies are game-changers. They provide data at a scale and speed that human observation alone can’t match. But as impressive as they are, they don’t replace lived experience. A radar scan might tell me the ice is 70 centimeters thick, but an elder might warn me about an underground current that could weaken that ice within days. Together, those insights give me the full picture.
Collaboration in Practice
One of the projects I’m most proud of was a 400-kilometer seasonal ice road network in northern Manitoba. At the planning stage, we held community meetings with elders, hunters, and local leaders. They told us which areas were traditionally safe to cross and which ones had hidden dangers, like shifting currents or unstable snowpack.
We combined their input with satellite data and ice surveys to map out the safest and most efficient routes. Along the way, community members worked alongside our crews, not only guiding us but also training younger generations in both traditional knowledge and engineering techniques. The end result was a road that lasted longer, reduced accidents, and built real pride within the community.
Respecting the Land and the People
To me, the blending of Indigenous knowledge and modern engineering isn’t just about building better infrastructure—it’s about respect. Respect for the land that sustains us, and respect for the people who have called it home for generations. Too often, engineering has been imposed on communities rather than developed with them. That approach leads to mistrust, inefficiency, and sometimes even harm to the environment.
By listening first and designing second, we create infrastructure that is not only functional but also culturally appropriate and environmentally sensitive. For example, adjusting a route to avoid traditional hunting grounds might add a few kilometers, but it ensures the project supports, rather than disrupts, community life.
Facing Climate Change Together
The North is on the front lines of climate change. Thinner ice, unpredictable freeze-thaw cycles, and shifting permafrost are reshaping how we think about infrastructure. In this environment, blending knowledge systems is more important than ever. Elders notice changes in migration patterns or freeze-up timing that can confirm what climate models are predicting. Their observations ground our data in lived reality.
Looking ahead, we’re also exploring hybrid solutions like modular floating roadways and supply chains that work year-round. But even as we innovate, the foundation remains the same: respect the land, trust the wisdom of those who live closest to it, and use every tool available—whether ancient or modern—to keep communities connected and safe.
A Personal Reflection
Over the years, I’ve come to see myself not just as an engineer but as a bridge-builder. My job is to bring people and knowledge systems together so that the infrastructure we create reflects the best of both worlds. Some of my most meaningful moments haven’t been on a frozen lake with a radar device, but in a warm community hall, listening to stories from elders about winters past and lessons learned the hard way.
Those stories shape my work as much as any technical report. They remind me that engineering isn’t just about steel, ice, or data—it’s about people. And when people feel their voices are heard and their wisdom respected, the projects we build together stand the test of time.
Looking Forward
As Arctic conditions continue to change, the need for collaboration will only grow. The future of northern infrastructure will not be built by engineers alone. It will be shaped by communities, guided by tradition, and strengthened by technology.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that we can’t afford to separate Indigenous knowledge from modern engineering—they are two halves of the same solution. By blending them, we not only build stronger roads and safer communities but also honor the resilience and ingenuity that the North has always embodied.
That, to me, is the true future of Arctic infrastructure.