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"Go North, young Canadians ... It's where the money is."

So read posters plastered around downtown Vancouver and other major Canadian cities earlier this year.

This recruitment campaign by the GNWT highlights an increasingly popular adage: the Canadian North is full of high-paying jobs that are ripe for the taking.

But just how well does this clever slogan play on manifest destiny - the idea that opened up the American west in the nineteenth century - stand up to the realities of living in Yellowknife?

According to the most recent employment numbers, pretty well.

In June, 81.9 per cent of the Yellowknife labour force held jobs, an increase of 600 jobs since April, when roughly 12,500 Yellowknifers were gainfully employed.

Compared to the rest of the country, where effects from the 2008 recession drags on and the average employment rate was 62.3 per cent in June, Yellowknifers have a much greater chance of landing a job - and our jobs really do pay more.

Territory-wide, the average worker earned $1,260 per week in May, while the average employed Canadian earned $912 weekly.

Adding to this rosy economic outlook are promises of even more well-paying jobs on the horizon. Six new development projects surrounding Yellowknife predict more than 1,600 jobs and $2 billion in investment.

Two proposed projects would have Yellowknife return to its golden years - Tyhee Gold Corps' Yellowknife Gold Project, currently before the Mackenzie Valley Impact Review Board, is expected to open two mines roughly 50 km north of the city and create about 200 jobs.

TerraX Minerals Inc.'s Yellowknife Gold project, located 15 km north of Yellowknife, is approximately 10 years away from development. TerraX promises to keep more secondary jobs in the North by establishing its operations base here, instead of shipping core samples south for analysis.

But (and here's the but), as any true Northerner already knows, a high salary does not equal riches.

Perhaps this is why, despite the availability of well-paying jobs, Yellowknife's population dropped by roughly 500 people in 2012.

While living in Yellowknife is far cheaper than living in smaller Northern communities, housing and goods continue to cost much more than they do in the south and this gap continues to grow. The June 2013 NWT consumer price index shows a 1.6 per cent increase in the cost of basic goods since the same month last year, compared to a 1.2 per cent national increase.

As of October 2012, the average two-bedroom apartment cost $1,641 per month, compared to the national average of $901. And renting is pretty much all the average Yellowknifer can afford to do as the cost of real estate continues to balloon.

On a more positive note, the draw of well-paying jobs should attract new people to the North but it will take getting the cost of living under control to keep the best and the brightest here. More importantly, those who already live here should have no trouble securing a job, although they may have to re-train to get it. Barring another global crash, it looks like our economy has recovered - and that makes us the lucky ones.

The new chief of Deh Gah Got'ie First Nation made an interesting point while speaking to the Deh Cho Drum about his Fort Providence election victory.

At the end of the interview, Joachim Bonnetrouge said the community needs to stand behind the decisions made by voters during the election. Sometimes, people get divided by politics, but the band members have to strive to continue working together and do what is best for the members and the whole community, he said.

Bonnetrouge has a good point. Elections in communities of any size can divide residents.

People get behind different candidates for different reasons and once the election results are made public, the supporters of the person or people who didn't win can often feel disappointed or angry with the results. In less stable countries around the world, violence often breaks out before, during and after elections as backers of different candidates and parties clash.

Things aren't as volatile here, but elections can still be divisive.

One of the factors leading to division is that most First Nations in the Deh Cho have small memberships, many of whom have close family ties. Oftentimes, support for candidates for the position of chief or band council are made along family lines. That can leave whole family groups feeling badly if their relative isn't elected.

There can also be issues if the vote is close. If only a few votes separate the new chief from their closest competitor, it doesn't paint a picture of a community united under one leader.

After the election results are announced, the people whose choice for chief or band councillors didn't get elected need to decide how to proceed. Feeling upset for awhile is understandable, but those feelings shouldn't be allowed to linger.

Like Bonnetrouge said, regardless of how band members vote, they should ultimately respect the decision made by the majority of the people and support the chief and council who are selected. It is only with the majority of the community's support that First Nations can make positive progress during each new leadership term.

Odd things can happen to a person under the glare of the midnight sun.

That's why I found myself Saturday morning at 2:30 a.m. eagerly rising from bed in anticipation of the first sunset in two months.

I freely admit I've had some monumental problems getting used to the midnight sun. I've been sleep-deprived, disoriented and sometimes outright grouchy over my first experience with the 24-hour sunshine.

There's a long list of things I've missed, including sunrises and sunsets, watching the stars and the moon, looking for the aurora, the sounds of crickets and so on.

Even one of my favourite summer traditions fell by the wayside here. For years it's been my habit to linger outside on the first day of summer, the longest day of the year, and soak up every last drop of sunshine. The midnight sun takes all the fun out of that one, let me tell you.

The worst part of the midnight sun here, though, is trying to sleep and adhere to some kind of a normal work and life schedule around it. It's problematic to convince myself to sleep when the non-rational part of my brain is whispering (or maybe shrieking), "Let's go play!"

Maybe I should have given in but that's a hard sell in a profession dominated by the need to meet deadlines. I'm not sure my bosses would be very sympathetic to me "phoning in tired."

In fact, I know they wouldn't, although they might understand it.

So on Saturday morning I sat perched at my window in my pyjamas watching as the sun sank lower and lower in the sky, camera clutched tightly in one hand.

I don't know if I expected some grand epiphany or not, or just some sense of relief to see even a hint of darkness.

I won't say I was disappointed, but there was some sense of "huh, that was hardly worth it" thoughts floating through my head as the sky barely darkened to even a twilight before the sun popped up again.

Monday morning I was awake again around 3 a.m. and was considerably more satisfied to see something approaching twilight. My comfort zone, it seems, falls somewhere along the lines of long days with the sun setting around midnight or so.

I'm left with the uneasy sensation, though, that I've missed out on a lot of fun over the last two months under the midnight sun.

So I've resolved next year, when the opportunity presents itself, I'm going to follow an old cliche.

"When in Inuvik, do as the Inuvikites do."

In the meantime, I'm looking forward to a long winter's nap ... or at least a late-summer one.

Remediation work at the Giant Mine site, which is heavily contaminated with arsenic trioxide has, understandably, left many uneasy.

Aboriginal Affairs and Northern Development Canada (AANDC) have set up air monitoring systems around the mine site and in town to watch for toxic dust, a byproduct from the site's days as an operational gold mine.

Arsenic trioxide, to put it bluntly, is dangerous.

According to the United States Environment Protection Agency (EPA), a dose of inhaled arsenic of 600 micrograms per kilogram of body weight per day can result in death. To put this in perspective, a fatal dose for an average Canadian male would be approximately 48,000 micrograms per day. It takes one million micrograms to make one gram, so a fatal dose of inhaled arsenic is very tiny.

A new study from the University of Manchester in England found that consuming rice with high levels of arsenic, which is still used as a pesticide in Asia, can lead to chromosomal damage. So, it's hardly a secret that arsenic is dangerous, and sitting on the edge of the city is a site containing 237,000 tonnes of the toxic dust and 16 million tonnes of arsenic-rich tailings.

And what's the plan if it can actually be determined a toxic arsenic cloud is heading toward a populated area?

Tell the city to institute its emergency plan.

That's it. The plan of AANDC, in the event of a potential disaster, is to put the problem on to the city instead.

To make things worse, air detectors have already been proven to be less than reliable, with a spike registered on July 1 and 2 as a result of smoke from forest fires blowing into town.

Also, if Kevin O'Reilly of Alternatives North is correct, the sensors, without additional analysis, are unable to differentiate between arsenic particulates and other kinds of pollution, such as smoke.

Long-term exposure to arsenic dust can lead to problems, as seen by the town of Takachiho, Japan. Over a five-decade period starting in the 1920s, the town saw an increase in skin and lung cancers as the result of arsenic production from the Toroku danborite mine.

Giant Mine is one of the most toxic sites in the country and among the most expensive to maintain, according to a 2012 report from the Commissioner of the Environment and Sustainable Development.

Despite that cost we can't help but share O'Reilly's unease when thinking about the safety response plans and monitoring system that AANDC has in place.

When dealing with a toxic substance such as arsenic trioxide there is no such thing as too stringent.

And, can you really put a price tag on the health and safety of more than 20,000 people?

As much as we like to think we have control over our lives, there are always those moments that remind us we don't.

At those times we are left feeling helpless, vulnerable and lost.

I have had two such moments during my time in the North and in each instance I was lucky enough to have been met with a helping hand.

During the first, my roommate and I had the brilliant idea to do a

70-kilometre bike ride down Yellowknife's Ingraham Trail.

It was a rather ambitious goal given that my idea of exercise at the time was walking to and from work.

Still, we made it through the first 35 kilometres and took a well-deserved snack break before turning back the way we came.

Unfortunately, that's when things started to go wrong for me.

With every pedal my right knee became more and more sore.

It came to the point where I told my roommate to just go ahead because I was going to need to take it slow.

He took off and I pushed through the pain until I made it to about five kilometres from the city limits.

I pulled my bike over to the side of the road and slumped down on the gravel, realizing even though the end was in sight my body was in no shape to make it.

After fishing my cellphone from my pocket, I called for a cab and told the operator I was on the Ingraham Trail by the Mining Heritage Society's building. Amazingly, the woman didn't even know about the Ingraham Trail.

I was thinking I was never going to make it home when a truck pulled over to the side of the road.

A woman rolled down the window and asked me if I was OK.

Relieved beyond belief, I explained what had happened and asked if they would drive me home. They quickly agreed.

I dare say I have never been more grateful for the kindness of a stranger.

My second reminder that I don't always have control over life happened more recently.

I had driven out to the elders' cabin to cover an event and when I got there, someone pointed out my vehicle had a flat tire.

When it comes to cars I know nothing, so my instinct was to call the local mechanic shops but that yielded nothing.

I was feeling pretty helpless when a local resident said her husband was coming and had a pump I could use to put air in the tire.

It turned out we couldn't use the pump but he and his friend were kind enough to put on my vehicle's spare tire.

I was once again moved by strangers' willingness to help out.

Having lived in a city where people won't even help you lift a suitcase up a couple of stairs, it meant a lot to me.

It is nice to know that when things get hectic, there are people around who will help.

Now I know the North is known for its generous and kind people, but it can't be said enough and it shouldn't be taken for granted.

If you have one of those moments as I have had, please take the time to show your appreciation.

• Miranda Scotland is interim editor of Kivalliq News while editor Darrell Greer is on vacation

If it's not broke, don't fix it. But when our territory is so plagued with issues that time and again residents have called out for change, it is time to act.

That is exactly what the territorial government is doing in its proactive, if not shocking, announcement of axing its funding of the Nats'ejee K'eh Treatment Centre, the NWT's only residential addictions treatment facility, as of Sept. 30.

Current treatment programs in the territory have been under fire for years. In a report released by the health department in 2002, titled A State of Emergency ... Evaluation of Addictions Services in the NWT, it doesn't mince words by stating, "90 per cent of community addictions programs indicated dissatisfaction with the scope of services offered by Nats'ejee K'eh" and that, "the current system of addictions services, as structured, has failed the residents of the Northwest Territories."

The government has failed time and again to produce a functioning, successful addictions program for the territory that is culturally relevant for the diversity of its residents.

The numbers don't lie: 43 per cent of residents surveyed in the most recent survey from 2009 said they typically consume five or more drinks on one occasion. This is an increase from 34 per cent in 1996 and almost four times the national average.

Violence against women is nine times higher in the NWT than the rest of Canada, according to Statistics Canada, and while this can't be solely attributed to the influence of alcohol and addictions, if there's a fire burning, that's the smoke.

By walking away from the treatment centre, a 30-bed facility for adults that has recently been sitting at 50 per cent capacity, the government is admitting this isn't working. For those who need residential treatment, they will be referred to facilities in Alberta and British Columbia, an expensive and not-as-effective solution as getting help at home, but something that is hopefully to be used as a short-term solution.

Health care is expensive and only in a perfect world can all programs and services be offered in every community. In the most recent budget, $1.15 million was earmarked for the government's mental health and addictions action plan launched in 2012. But even that was not enough as members of the legislative assembly brought forward a motion for more money to be invested and for more to be done. The GNWT then allocated an additional $1.145 million in March 2013.

Many have cried out against the decision to close the treatment centre because of the lost jobs and the withdrawal of residential addictions treatment in the NWT. However, there would have also been fingers pointed if things continued on as they were, with money being invested in the status quo that hasn't seen progress, but has instead worsened.

Health and Social Services Minister Tom Beaulieu is listening to the people. The report developed by the Minister's Forum on Addictions and Community Wellness states the top priority from residents throughout the NWT is community-based and operated on-the-land programming. While the report states residential treatment centres are important, it continued hearing that the land heals and that aboriginal culture and spirituality close to the support network of family and friends must be a component of programs to fight addictions that plague the people of this territory.

The government could have trudged along doing more consultations, calling for more reports, and spent more than $2 million in the Nats'ejee K'eh Treatment Centre for another year. But the decision to act, to pool resources on what residents want, is a commitment to do better.

The government is now in uncharted waters and the onus is on it to produce results. Those results have to happen fast. The centre is closed by the end of September, leaving a little more than two months for programs to be put in place.

This has to be done responsibly and with urgency, as many Northerners and their families are depending on the help.

First, it was a helicopter window that was damaged at the Pangnirtung Airport on June 28.

Then, on July 9, a small plane in Pangnirtung was broken into and some equipment was stolen, including a GPS device and safety flares.

It may seem like petty theft and minor vandalism, but these two incidents are serious and have far-reaching consequences.

And, unfortunately, the two incidents in Pangnirtung are not alone. A similar situation happened in Pond Inlet last year, which resulted in Nunavut Airports paying the cost of a night-time security guard to patrol the tarmac after Canadian North's Dash-8 aircraft were broken into four times in a two-year period. Items stolen included cans of pop and hand sanitizer.

Although the cost of the stolen items, and even the price of a new helicopter window, may be relatively small, the result of the crimes is significant. The six-passenger Bell 206LRE Long Ranger was stuck on the ground for several days, meaning not only could it not fulfill its contracted trip, but more importantly, it was unavailable for search and rescue missions the company is often called upon for assistance.

Aviation services are vital to Nunavut communities. They are a life line for residents who require all sorts of goods to be sent via aircraft to their isolated and challenging part of the world.

Threats to the security of aircraft are taken seriously. In the case of Pond Inlet, Canadian North considered changing its schedule so aircraft would not be parked overnight, an inconvenience for passengers who want to fly to Iqaluit in the morning and catch connecting flights south.

Nunavut Airports has taken the initiative to install security cameras at several airports at a cost of $50,000 to $60,000 each. More are being installed next month.

Damage to aircraft at airports also impacts the community as a whole, something the mayor of Pond Inlet was concerned about in May of last year.

One of the responses in that community is to be commended. Following a community meeting, the mayor and deputy mayor went to Ulaajuk Elementary School and Nasivvik High School to emphasize that vandalism doesn't pay. The community took the position that it wanted to change attitudes about damaging aircraft and the dangers involved.

Meanwhile, a call by the senior administrative officer in Pangnirtung to put a new fence around the airport was answered. Repairs to the fence will be done, as well as improvements to outdoor lights to enhance security.

However, we are concerned it may not be feasible for all communities in Nunavut to receive that kind of expensive solution.

Building fences and hiring security guards may be necessary in some communities, but one strategy that must be included is an ongoing effort to make people aware that damaging aircraft only hurts the wider community.

If airlines are forced to reduce service, or aircraft are unavailable for rescue missions because of acts of vandalism, the entire community suffers.

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