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Chubb Crater - Part 2 of 12

The National Geographic Magazine, Vol. C1, No.1, January, 1952
Solving the Riddle of Chubb Crater (by V. Ben Meen - Director,
Royal Ontario Museum of Geology and Mineralogy).


Birth of an Adventure

The story of Chubb Crater begins with World War II. On June 20, 1943, a
U.S. Army Air Force plane, on a weather flight over the Ungava region of
Quebec Province, took a photograph showing a wide crater rim thrust up
above the snow-mantled landscape.
Five years later the Royal Canadian Air Force covered the same
little-known area in its program of photomapping all Canada. Not until
1950, however, were these photographs and resulting map corrections made
available to the public.
Here that sturdy prospector and frontiersman Frederick W. Chubb becomes
an important figure. His interest was fired by the photographs of the
strange configuration of terrain far north of the limit of wooded
country. He sought me out at the museum for my opinion as a geologist.
Mr. Chubb was hopeful I would tell him what he wished to hear - that the
crater appeared to be that of an extinct volcano. If so, the area might
hold diamond deposits similar to those found in South Africa.
My interest was stirred, but for a different reason. My knowledge of
Canadian geology tentatively ruled out the possibility that the crater
was of volcanic origin, or a huge sinkhole left behind by retreating
ice.
The only other likely explanation was that this immense pockmark on
northern Quebec Province was the handiwork of a mighty meteor that
crashed into the land at terrific speed untold centuries ago.
Eager to inspect the crater firsthand, I flew there with Fred Chubb in
1950. The visit was brief, hardly more than a reconnaissance, without
time or equipment for a thorough study. I was awed then - as I have been
ever since - by the stark, brooding grandeur one beholds from the crater
rim.

Crater Named for Arctic Prospector

On this trip, incidentally, I named the crater Chubb, as a tribute to my
good friend who deserves so much credit for its exploration. 
I came back to Toronto fired with a determination to return to Chubb
Crater with an expedition that would unlock its secret. More than ever I
was persuaded my theory was right - that a mighty meteor had blasted out
the crater with an explosion that left the surrounding barren plain a
chaos of boulders.
The fine cooperation of the National Geographic Society and the Royal
Ontario Museum, so typical of the neighborly spirit linking the United
States and Canada, made possible my return to craterland with all I
needed. Now it was up to me and my team.
Our take-off point was Roberval, a quiet lumber town, one of the last
stops on the rail line that reaches north from Quebec City.
With me was a hand-picked team of which I was already proud, and later
even prouder. Doughty Fred Chubb, who started all this in the first
place, dropped everything to join us.
To help me in geological and survey work were John Keefe and Leonard
Cowan. John, a geophysicist, had originally intended to start work that
summer in western Canada's new oil fields, but scrapped his plans.
Leonard, who was not due back on my staff at the Museum until September
1, had done likewise with his leave program.
As our biologist we had Nigel Martin, on generous loan from the Ontario
Department of Lands and Forests. And last, but by no means least, there
was the versatile Richard H. Stewart, of the National Geographic
Society's photographic staff, a veteran of many far-flung scientific
expeditions.
Delayed equipment and bad weather held us up five days at Roberval. We
made good use of the wait, however, to remove supplies from crates and
cartons in order to pack the maximum load into our amphibian.
Incidentally, it was the only commercial plane in the area that had the
capacity to fly us to Chubb with all our equipment, supplies, food, and
fuel for a month's stay.
Known in World War II as a PBY patrol plane, or as the Catalina, this
work horse of the air is called in Canada a Canso. Modified for
peacetime use, it is capable of lifting big loads great distances; hence
its value in the north country.
Capacious as the Canso was, we needed every bit of space for the 5,000
pounds of cargo we stowed aboard her. Our biggest problem was the
gasoline we had to carry. Craterland is barren of fuel. We needed the
gas for cooking food, heating and lighting our tents, running the
generator for our radio, and powering the outboard motor for our canoes.
Weather gave us the green light on July 25. The burdened Canso moved
down the apron at Roberval's shore and slid into the waters of Lake St.
John. Motors revved up as we taxied for take-off. Capt. Wilf Allard, our
able pilot, lifted his big ship from the lake's surface at 9 a.m.
Less than 10 hours and one refueling stop later, the captain eased our
Canso down on Museum Lake, about two miles north of the crater. A few
smooth stretches on its otherwise rugged shore line offered the only
practical campsites in the area.
I had given this lake its name on our previous trip, with the thought of
reminding the public that museums, far from being dusty, sleepy places,
are actively engaged in research for advancing the frontiers of
knowledge.
Coming in for our landing, the Canso gave us an excellent opportunity to
view the crater from aloft. It resembled a gigantic teacup, slightly
tilted. The rim rears up hundreds of feet above the surrounding
wasteland, and the lake deep in its bowl has an unbelievable color of
purple-blue.
I was pleased to see the water was ice-free. This would facilitate lake
research. On my three-day visit to the crater in 1950 I had found most
of the surface covered with drifting cakes of ice, some of them three
feet thick, although near-by lakes had none.
On Museum Lake shore that night there was no haste in pitching camp.
Even at midnight, when we decided things were adequately squared away,
we still had bright daylight. A beautiful sunset, which had appeared to
the northwest two hours earlier, was now straight to our north, its
glory undiminished.

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