“How are the skies looking north of us?” Unaaq asked her.
“The weather looks good for you,” Suunia said. “It should be clear sledding for a good stretch. Temperatures will become colder over the next few days, but you shouldn’t run into any storms until you are much further north.”
Just the kind of weather report I was hoping to hear. The possibility of becoming surrounded on all sides by ice melt is now much less of a concern.
“We‘re going to stay in a village about one hundred miles north of Upernavik,” Unaaq told Suunia. “There we will resupply so we can bring plenty of food to the Inughuit and their dogs. How are they holding out?”
“A small rescue team from Qaanaaq braved the storm and was able to reach them,” Suunia said. “They could not figure out what has made the dogs so ill, but the team was able to bring a few of the youngest children back to the village safely.”
“That’s wonderful to hear!” Nuka said.
“The weather is getting worse and the rescue team will not be able to return for the others until it clears. It would take several helicopters to bring everyone back and all flights are grounded. We are very worried. Some of the elders are not doing so well and I don’t think the dogs will last much longer without a remedy for their illness.”
“You said the dogs have not eaten anything unusual or come in contact with other animals?” Unaaq asked. “No scuffles with Arctic foxes or wolves?”
“As far as I know, they have kept a normal diet and stayed out of trouble.”
“Okay. We are on our way and will do our best to help when we arrive.”
“We cannot thank you enough, Unaaq. May your travels be safe.”
GANNON
APRIL 8
Way down the hill at the end of a fjord, I spotted all these little white domes that looked like bubbles pushing up through the surface of the snow. There were also several miniature homes sitting on the ice, painted red and perfectly square with triangular roofs.
“The Arctic village!” I yelled. “Atsuk! Atsuk!” and cracked the whip hard against the cold, brisk air.
The dogs obeyed my command and turned left down the slope, running towards the village with a renewed energy. I’m pretty sure they were as excited to get there as I was.
“The people in this village have built some modern homes,” Nuka had told us before we arrived, “but mostly they continue to live the traditional lifestyle. They want to pass the ancient knowledge on to the younger generation. Most Greenlanders today grow up without that knowledge.”
When we arrived we were greeted with curiosity and smiles, and even though Wyatt and I are total strangers, they were quick to smack us on the back affectionately and wrap us up in bear hugs like we’d been friends forever. I liked them right away.
Some of the men here are wearing ski jackets and waterproof pants with polarized sunglasses and beanie caps, just like we wear at home. Others are dressed in the traditional style, wearing seal skins and furs.
The simplicity of their lifestyle is really inspiring, and my first impression is that they are some of the happiest people I have ever met. Seriously, I’ve never seen so many smiles or heard so much laughter, and to be totally honest, I don’t even have a clue what they’re smiling and laughing about. Wyatt’s funny looks would be my first guess. Who knows? Whatever it is, it’s plain to see that they really enjoy life.
Being here makes me wonder about all the things we have today—all the products and gadgets and gizmos and whatnot. I mean, do we really need all that stuff? Out on the ice cap, the answer becomes pretty clear. Absolutely, undeniably, and without question, no. When I think about it, food, clothing, and shelter (and for me, maybe a journal), that’s all I really need. Pretty much everything else is a “want” not a “need,” and there’s a big difference between the two.
Okay, have to run. I’ve been given the thumbs up to take some video around the village and need to get some footage while I have the chance.
Signing off until later …
WYATT
APRIL 8, 8:54 PM
74° 17′ N 56° 11′ W
18° FAHRENHEIT,-8° CELSIUS
MOSTLY CLOUDY
ELEVATION: 418 FEET
The total population of this small encampment is 126 people, ranging in age from 3 months to almost 100 years old. The woman who is nearly 100 just happens to be the great-great-grandmother of the 3-month-old baby. She is hunched slightly, and her face holds a thousand wrinkles that all turn upward when she smiles. This is the first great-great-grandmother I have ever met. Gannon calls her “Triple G.”
Right now a bunch of children are being taught to hunt with bows and arrows. This is an important skill that they are encouraged to develop from an early age. And I’m talking a real early age. The oldest kid in the group couldn’t be more than 10 and the youngest is probably 4 or 5, tops. One of the fathers built a rabbit and a fox out of snow, and the kids are taking turns shooting arrows at the targets while he coaches them on technique. Arrows are flying every which way, and the kids are all giggling and teasing one another. They may not show much promise yet, but by the time they’re old enough to hunt they’ll be experts.
We tied up the dogs and set up our tent about 25 meters from the nearest house, but we were encouraged to tour the village and even visit people in their homes. Of course, Gannon’s already making his rounds. I just saw him walk into one of the igloos with his video camera and journal. Boy, do I feel sorry for the poor people inside. They have no idea what they’re in for.
GANNON
LATE NIGHT
Okay, Greenlanders might just be the greatest storytellers on the planet. They’re definitely some of the most imaginative, that’s for sure. What’s amazing is that all of their stories have been passed down in the oral tradition from one generation to the next, which basically means the stories are spoken instead of written. How they have all these long, wild stories committed to memory is totally beyond me. I can hardly remember a joke if I don’t write it down.
The stories that Unaaq translated from Papik… I mean, whoa. They totally blew my mind! Now, Papik is an “Angdkut,” which basically means he’s a magician or shaman. There really aren’t many shaman left in Greenland today. It’s a part of the Inuit culture that’s all but disappeared. In fact, Unaaq thinks that Papik might be the last of his kind.
Without a doubt, Papik has to be one of the most interesting guys I’ve ever met. He’s got this crazy energy and dances around the village wearing this oversized polar bear fur and barking and growling and swinging seal skin straps around like helicopter propellers. I just about fell over when Papik told us that he has the power to crawl out of his skin and then back into it.
“Whoa, I’d like to see that,” I said.
“I don’t think you would,” Unaaq said. “It is believed that anyone who sees him do it will die on the spot.”
“Oh, jeez. Really?”
“So they say.”
“All righty, then. Forget I ever mentioned it.”
One of the stories Papik told had us totally cracking up. It’s the story of an Arctic giant who was so big that he called the polar bear a fox. One day he saw five men kayaking in the ocean and thought they would make for nice ornaments so he scooped them up. When he returned home, he put the men on his shelf and sat down to admire his new ornaments. Later that night after a feast of polar bear meat the giant fell into a deep sleep. Well, knowing this might be their only chance to get away, the frightened men climbed down from the shelf and escaped. When the giant woke and saw that the men were gone he said, “Oh, dear. This is all my fault. If I had just remembered to pull their eyes out of their heads they would not have been able to escape.”
Okay, sure, it’s a little creepier than most of the fairy tales I was told growing up, but every bit as entertaining.
As the shaman of the village, the people believe whatever Papik says. Ancient wisdom tells them that if they don’t believe in the magicians the
animals they hunt will become invisible and they will have no food and will eventually starve. So, yeah, it seems pretty important to believe Papik.
Okay, time for some shut-eye. Just hope an Arctic giant doesn’t pluck me from my tent while I sleep.
WYATT
APRIL 9, 10:31 AM
74° 17′ N 56° 06’ W
15° FAHRENHEIT, -9° CELSIUS
SKIES CLEAR, LIGHT WIND
This morning we took the sleds over the tongue of a glacier into the bay. A glacier “tongue” is a long sheet of ice that extends from the coast into the sea. We were led by a man that calls himself Alluaq, which literally means “hole in the ice for fishing.”
Right now we are settled atop the sea ice in the middle of a bay surrounded on three sides by barren mountains. When we arrived, Alluaq cleared away a circle of snow. We were all given metal poles with sharp tips, like spears, and began chipping away at the ice. Alluaq said this time of year the ice here is normally two or three feet thick. Today, it’s just under one foot thick, which makes me a little nervous to be out so far over the water, but Alluaq’s been doing this his entire life, so I’ve put my faith in him.
Greenland’s spectacular scenery
Within the hour, we had a hole carved in the ice about six or seven feet around. Once the hole was cut, Alluaq and Unaaq baited large hooks with meat and lowered it on thick ropes to a depth of 750 meters.
“There are big fish in these waters,” Alluaq said. “But they are usually very deep.”
Now that the line is baited, we just sit around and wait. And the waiting part is tough given that the clock is ticking for the Inughuit families who need our help. With each passing day, their situation becomes more desperate. We decided that if we don’t catch anything today we’re going to continue north tomorrow with as much seal and whale meat as the villagers can spare. But they can’t spare much. Food is pretty scarce for everyone right now.
Ice Fishing
GANNON
FISH CAMP
“We’ve got something!” Nuka yelled, waking me from a deep sleep.
I threw off my blanket, jumped to my feet, and got this massive head rush that almost tripped me up as I made my way to the fishing hole. When my head cleared I saw Alluaq with the fishing rope in his hands. He was tugging as hard as he could to pull whatever we’d caught up to the surface. Veins were bulging from his neck and forehead and his face was turning purple. Despite all that effort he wasn’t having much luck. Actually, the line was being pulled deeper. For a second, I thought Alluaq was about to get pulled down through the hole into the ocean.
“Wow, this is a big fish,” Nuka said. “Let’s help Alluaq.”
We all grabbed hold of the rope and tugged like crazy, but whatever was on the hook was a lot stronger than all of us combined. No joke, it felt like we were trying to pull a semi-truck from the bottom of the ocean.
Since we couldn’t gain an inch, we harnessed all of the dogs to the rope and cracked the whip and got them all digging their paws deep into the snow and pulling like mad. Well, slowly the dogs made progress, but the rope was so long that the dogs just kept going and going. I’m serious, it looked like they would reach the village before the length of rope ran out.
When that beastly looking sea creature finally stuck its head through the hole I almost jumped right out of my boots!
“You’ve got to be kidding me!” I shouted, still back peddling.
It looked almost like a super-sized catfish, all gray and slimy with a long head and wide mouth.
“What in the world is that thing?” I asked.
“Eqalussuaq,” Nuka said.
“Come again?”
“Greenlandic shark. The largest of the Arctic fish. And this is a big one!”
Alluaq yelled something to us in Greenlandic.
“Watch out for its teeth!” Unaaq repeated in English. “They are small, but sharp as razors!”
The dogs looked like they were a mile away and still running to help pull this giant onto the ice.
“Greenlandic sharks will eat just about anything,” Unaaq said. “Scientists have found caribou in their bellies. Even polar bears.”
“No way,” I said.
“Yes way,” said Unaaq with a chuckle. “That’s why we warn people never to stand too close to a hole in the ice. The Greenlandic shark might be waiting to jump up and snatch you.”
“I can see how a warning like that would be effective,” I said.
The shark flesh is actually toxic to humans unless it is fermented over a long period of time, but that’s just fine by me because I can’t say I was all that excited about sampling shark anyhow. Apparently it’s a safe and tasty meal for the dogs though, and that’s why it’s a valuable catch.
When the dogs returned to the fishing hole they could hardly contain themselves, yipping and salivating and tugging at their leashes, just dying to sink their teeth into some shark meat. As Alluaq carved up chunks of meat one of the dogs lunged forward and snatched some right out of his hand. Well, Alluaq wasn’t too happy about that and gave the dog a good reprimanding. Dogs are not allowed to eat until their master says so.
This one shark will feed all of their dogs for at least a month, so it frees up some of the fish, seal and whale meat they had stock piled for the dogs, which we will now take to the Inughuit.
That they would go through all this work to keep the dogs fed and healthy just goes to show how important they are to the Greenlanders’ way of life. I have to think that if we all had to catch sharks and whales and seals to feed our dogs at home, instead of just scooping them a bowl of dog food, well, dogs probably wouldn’t be such popular pets.
We all stood around and watched Unaaq and Alluaq carve up the shark meat, while Unaaq talked a little bit about their strong connection with nature.
“Here in the Arctic, we are one with nature,” he said. “If we are in tune with the spirits of nature an animal will willingly give its life for us. It will die so that we can live. That is the animal’s purpose and it understands this when we come for it. Without the animals, we all die. That is why we give thanks to the animal before eating its meat and organs. We give thanks for its skin and fur, which we use for clothing and shelter. We even use its bones to make things such as tools, weapons, and frames for housing. Nothing ever goes to waste.”
Unaaq made his point crystal clear, using his knife to fish around in a steaming pile of shark innards. In all that mess of intestines, he happened upon a shrimp the shark had swallowed whole. When he stuck it on his knife and extended it to me, I thought he was joking.
“Shrimp cocktail?” he asked, with a huge smile.
“Thank you, but I’ll pass,” I said.
“Suit yourself,” he said and popped the shrimp into his mouth.
I’ll be honest, I just about threw up at the sight. But hey, like he said, nothing here goes to waste. Not even the undigested food inside the animal’s stomach.
Mmm, yummy!
WYATT
APRIL 9, 8:05 PM
At first, I thought what I heard was a clap of thunder. But when I looked up to the sky there wasn’t a cloud to be seen. Immediately following the explosive crack, I heard a low rumble and felt the ice tremble under my feet. The typically slow-moving and calm Alluaq was running, quickly gathering his fishing equipment and throwing it onto his sled. I knew something was terribly wrong.
“The ice is splitting!” Nuka shouted. “We have to move fast!”
Alluaq and Unaaq had just finished packing up the shark meat and were frantically gathering all of their gear. I raced to make sure I had all of my belongings securely tied to my sled and then went for my dogs, harnessing them as fast as I could. They had been in a near frenzy over the smell of shark meat, but had settled and allowed me to rope them to the sled without any hassle. I think they could sense that we were in danger. Once they were tied up, they took off so fast I was barely able to hold on.
The dogs knew exactly where to go. The
mainland. If we could just get to land we would be safe. If we didn’t get there quickly enough, the ice could break away and set us adrift on the open sea.
To the south, on the horizon, I could see a split forming. It looked like a dark line in the ice and it was getting bigger! Unaaq and Alluaq had jumped on the same sled and were leading us toward a distant mountain, away from the crack. Gannon was right behind them. Nuka, brought up the rear just in case any of us ran into trouble.
From the southern split, I looked east and I noticed another split forming in the sea ice. There were now two fractures moving toward each other. If they were to meet, we would be cut off from the mainland. Stranded on an island of floating ice.
Alluaq and Unaaq steered the dogs back toward the center, running hard for solid ground. It felt like my dogs couldn’t run fast enough. I was falling behind. Realizing this, my blood ran cold.
Nuka moved his sled along the side of mine and began shouting at my dogs in Greenlandic. He then pulled ahead, trying to get my team to run faster.
“Go, Tooguyuk!” he shouted. “Faster, faster! Follow me!”
The ice was now almost fully detached from the mainland. There was only a narrow strip that we could sled across and it was getting narrower by the second. I shouted at the dogs.
“Huughuaq! Huughuaq!”
They bore down and ran as hard as they could, sprinting for that bridge of ice. Alluaq and Unaaq took their sleds right over it without any problems. Gannon was next and made it with just a few feet to spare on either side, but the fracture was opening up fast, creating a channel of water as it moved. Nuka looked back at me and started to steer his sled to the side. I knew he wanted me to go first, but there wasn’t time. If he slowed down at all, there was no chance.
“Keep going, Nuka!” I yelled as loud as I could. “I’m right behind you!”
Nuka nodded and squatted down as his dogs shot the last narrow strip of ice still connected to the mainland. The dogs made it fine, but the bridge of ice cracked and Nuka’s sled runners skimmed over open water. He lost his grip and almost fell off the back, just managing to hang on with one hand.
Greenland Page 4