Seeing open water between myself and the other sleds, I yelled to the dogs and dragged my feet hard in the snow.
“Stop! Kángisârut! Kángisârut!”
The dogs obeyed, but our momentum caused us to get bunched up and we nearly went tumbling into the frigid water. Right away I jumped off the sled and pulled it backward, away from the water.
The channel between me and the mainland was already three or four feet across and widening. Nuka and Gannon stopped their sleds and ran back to the edge of the fracture. Unaaq and Alluaq did the same.
“Oh, man, Wyatt!” Gannon yelled. “This is bad!”
“Yeah, you think?” I shouted.
“Let the dogs try to jump across!” Unaaq yelled. “The ice is moving fast!”
This didn’t seem like a good option. We might all fall into the freezing water. Me and six dogs. I wasn’t sure how long the dogs would last in that cold, but I knew that if I fell into the water I would only have a minute or two before my heart stopped beating.
“It is the only option!” Unaaq yelled. “Trust in the dogs!”
Trust in the dogs? I still wasn’t sure that the dogs even liked me. Would they really risk their own lives to save mine? I needed more time to think.
It was time I didn’t have.
“Do it now!” Nuka yelled. “If you wait any longer the crack will be too wide!”
He was right. I climbed on the sled and shouted as I cracked the whip hard over the dogs’ heads.
“Go! Huughuaq! Huughuaq!”
The dogs hesitated. I wasn’t sure they were going to make the leap. When I shouted again they readied themselves and jumped into the freezing water. The momentum took the lead dogs to the other side of the split where they fought and scratched to pull themselves back onto solid ground. Everyone was there waiting and helped drag them ashore. When the first two dogs were on the other side my sled hit the water, but I didn’t have enough momentum to carry the sled across the surface. I honestly thought we were about to sink like a rock.
“Just hang on tight!” Nuka shouted. “The sled should have enough float to carry you across!”
Because I was in such a panic, it hadn’t dawned on me that the sleds are made of wood, and wood floats! That gave me hope, but it didn’t last. True, wood does float, but a sled is no boat. It could easily tip and even if it didn’t topple into the water, the sled wouldn’t float for long. Not with all the weight on it.
My boots were submerged to just below the knee, but by then all six dogs were on solid ground and charging ahead with all their might. Everyone grabbed ahold of the sled runners and helped the struggling dogs pull the sled over the lip of the ice to safety.
“Whoa, that was close,” Gannon said, and dropped to his knees to catch his breath. “I thought for sure you were Greenlandic shark bait.”
Gannon was right. I was almost fish food. At the thought, a hollow feeling washed over me.
“You did good, Wyatt,” Unaaq said, probably noticing that I was still stricken with fear. “We’re all safe now.”
I couldn’t speak. Could hardly breathe.
“Wyatt, are you all right?” Nuka asked.
I felt light-headed.
“Earth to Wyatt!” Gannon said. “Come in, Wyatt!”
The mountains in the distance seemed to be moving from side to side. I knew what was happening. I was passing out.
“Yo, Wyatt!” Gannon said. “You okay?”
“I’ll be fine,” I said. “Just give me a minute.”
At that, I crumbled into the snow for an unscheduled nap.
GANNON
LATE NIGHT
Well, after barely avoiding a big-time disaster that almost sent us out to sea on a floating chunk of ice, we were all super-psyched to be back on solid ground. We celebrated in the village with singing and dancing as Alluaq passed out bowls of whale meat that they had left over from their last catch. My lips puckered as I popped one salty chunk after another into my mouth. It was about as rubbery as a bike tire, but surprisingly it didn’t taste all that bad.
There’s a different kind of excitement that comes with eating a meal when food is so scarce. I mean, at home, eating is something I totally take for granted. When I’m hungry, I just go into the refrigerator, grab whatever looks good, and ten minutes later I’m full. It doesn’t work that way in this village. Living in the Arctic, starvation is never far from these villagers’ minds. Food here is rationed to make sure it lasts and because that’s the case it made me connect with this meal in a way that I never have before. I mean, today I totally savored each and every bite of meat, really tasted it as I chewed, and imagined it nourishing my body after I swallowed it down. Today, maybe for the first time, I appreciated food for what it is—a necessity of life.
Because we didn’t return to the village until late, we decided to stay over one more night. Unaaq expects the remainder of this journey to be very challenging and said that a good night’s rest is critical. I won’t argue with that. I’m totally spent. Nodding off as I write, actually. So, our adventure continues tomorrow, first thing.
WYATT
APRIL 10, 6:14 AM
74° 17′ N 56° 11′ W
7° FAHRENHEIT, -14° CELSIUS
I woke early this morning and went for a short walk. The rest of the village was still asleep. It was so quiet that the squeak of the snow under my boots seemed loud to the point of being inconsiderate. Not wanting to wake anyone, I sat down on a rock and enjoyed the stark Arctic scenery.
It was only a matter of minutes before I was reminded that you can’t sit for long in the Arctic without freezing solid. The cold quickly settled into my bones and I stood to get my blood flowing. Making my way back to the tent, I passed Alluaq’s sled dogs and noticed that one of them was lying on its side, panting heavily. When I knelt at the dog’s side, I saw that he had vomited in the snow. His tongue was hanging out of his mouth and his eyes were bloodshot and watery. The dog did not respond to me at all. His condition was serious enough for me to wake Unaaq. Without immediate attention, I thought the dog might die. Unaaq then woke Alluaq and together they went to see what might be done.
“This is Nanook,” Alluaq said. “He is one of my youngest dogs, and the one who snapped the shark meat out of my hand yesterday.”
“Is that right?” Unaaq said, and went about checking all the other dogs.
The rest of the dogs seemed perfectly healthy and full of energy.
“There might be something wrong with the shark meat,” Unaaq said.
“I’ve never heard of shark making a dog sick,” Alluaq said.
Unaaq was deep in thought.
“Many years ago, my grandfather told me a story of a tide that comes to the Arctic once every 100 years,” Unaaq said. “This tide carries a harmful bacteria that contaminates the shark meat. After the tide moves away, a full year must pass before the dogs can safely eat the shark meat again.”
“Do you believe the tide has come this year?” Alluaq asked.
“It could be so,” Unaaq answered.
“Will Nanook die?” I asked.
“I cannot say, but there is a cure.”
“What is it?” Alluaq asked.
“I must speak with Papik. He may have what we need to make the remedy.”
Unaaq and Alluaq are speaking with Papik now. Hopefully something can be done. As for Gannon and I, it’s time to finish packing. We move out soon.
GANNON
APRIL 10
This morning I sat with the poor, sick Nanook, rubbing his thick white coat and trying to comfort him the best I could as Papik and Unaaq whipped up this crazy concoction of fish oils, various animal innards, and the blood of an Arctic hare. Disgusting, I know, but hey, I’m all for whatever might work. Unaaq gave a dose of the gooey brew to the sick dog, Nanook, and asked Alluaq to radio us tomorrow and let us know how he is doing. I’m keeping my fingers crossed.
Thinking that it would be nice to leave the people of the village with so
mething in return for their hospitality, Wyatt and I asked Unaaq and Nuka what sort of gift they might appreciate. Turns out, the women of the village were in need of needles. They had a handful of needles made from bone and could carve more from the shark skeleton, but a good set of steel point needles are more durable and would be very useful, they said. Luckily, we had a few sets that Nuka’s mom sent with us to mend tears and stuff, so we offered two full sets to the women of the village and kept one for ourselves. It seemed like such a simple gift, and I worried that it wasn’t thanks enough for everything they’d done for us in the way of hospitality. But, that wasn’t the case. The needles were a huge hit, and the women of the village showed their thanks with nods of approval and wide smiles and hugs for all of us.
To be honest, I’d love nothing more than to hang out with our new friends for a few more weeks. There are kids here the same age as me and Wyatt, and even though we can’t communicate very well, there seems to be a mutual respect between us. I know that in time we could all become the best of friends, one day working together and telling stories and laughing at the same jokes, just a bunch of teenagers, so different and yet so alike. But as Knud Rasmussen wrote, “It is but a short rest, though, that a traveler can permit himself under critical circumstances.” Just read that last night in Knud’s journals and our mission to save the Inughuit definitely qualifies as “critical circumstances.”
WYATT
APRIL 10, 3:37 PM
74° 28′ N 55° 43′ W
16° FAHRENHEIT, -10° CELSIUS
PARTLY CLOUDY, WINDS 5-10 MPH
We’re back at it!
We ran approximately 23 miles from the village and stopped for a short break. Clear skies and solid ice so far. Barometric pressure is 29.80 and steady, so this weather should hold for the next day or so. Goal is to cover 70+ miles before the day is out. Another 70+ miles tomorrow.
I’m running well with the dogs and keeping up. Have to get as far as we can while the weather permits. Suunia told us that it’s still bad up north and that’s where we’re headed.
Break time over.
Time to run!
GANNON
LATE AFTERNOON
Okay, heartwarming farewells aside, I ended up leaving the village with a pretty serious pit in my stomach. As I was tying down the last of my gear to the sled, Papik took me and Nuka aside. Apparently he’d just communicated with the spirits, which is totally wild to think about, but even wilder is that these spirits had a message for us. Judging by the way Papik was waving his arms around and squatting down and jumping up into the air and spinning his strips of seal skin like some sort of theater performer, I had a hunch that the spirits’ message must have been pretty important.
When he was done, Nuka translated. Basically the message was that we had a dangerous journey ahead. Okay, so that wasn’t so much news to me. I mean, come on, we’re sledding through Northwestern Greenland. The high Arctic. Of course it’s going to be dangerous. But there was one thing in particular Papik said that keeps echoing in my mind like some kind of cryptic warning.
“Beware the blinding light!” he said over and over. “Beware the blinding light!”
WYATT
APRIL 10, 10:22 PM
76° 13′ N 55° 48′ W
14° FAHRENHEIT, -11° CELSIUS
CLOUDY, WIND 10-15 MPH
Earlier, Unaaq got a radio call from Suunia, who confirmed that the Inughuit sled dogs were fed Greenlandic shark during their hunt. Unaaq believes that must be what made them sick. Before we left the village, he and Papik made as much of the remedy as they could and we brought it with us in a large jug. We’re all anxious to hear if the remedy helps Nanook, but we probably won’t know until tomorrow.
We have covered 532 miles, which amounts to more than two-thirds of the total distance to the Inughuit. We were given the coordinates of their location, and I calculated that we have approximately 220 miles to go.
Tonight, we’re staying in the tent, and the dogs are getting a well-deserved rest. We ran 72 miles today over mostly flat, solid terrain with only a few stretches of uneven ice. All of these miles over a 14 hour period. It was a good, long day of sledding.
I’ve mentioned that we have had our issues, the dogs and I, but they are good dogs and I am growing more fond of them as the trip goes on. Can’t say the feeling is mutual. Not yet, at least. They still snap at me from time to time, but at least they are running well now.
Thanks to the generosity of the villagers, we left with a full chest of seal and whale meat and fed the dogs after our run. They are curled up and sleeping now. Unaaq said they could sleep for days after a long run, getting up only to relieve themselves. But tomorrow we will begin another long day, and they will run without complaint.
Speaking of sleep, I could use some myself.
More tomorrow …
Enjoying a well-deserved treat
GANNON
MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT AND I CAN’T SLEEP
Fell asleep for a short stretch and woke having kicked off my blanket. My feet were bare and exposed to the cold air and very nearly the temperature of ice cubes, I’d guess. I put on my thermal socks, which helped warm my feet, but I haven’t been able to get back to sleep since. Too much on my mind right now. I can almost hear the thoughts buzzing in my head like a hive of bees. I just can’t stop thinking about Papik’s warning and wondering what in the world he meant. I’m also thinking about all the great Greenlandic people we’ve met and their incredible culture and how upsetting it is that their way of life might not be around much longer.
Here’s something I read recently: When my parent’s were born there were about 6,000 different languages spoken around the world. Now, according to some pretty smart people who study this sort of thing, more than half of those languages aren’t spoken anymore. Basically, they’ve just vanished into thin air. Poof. Most likely gone forever!
Now, here’s the problem: Every time we lose one of those languages we also lose thousands of years of knowledge and beliefs and all these different ways of looking at life and the world, which, to me, is like losing a piece of the human spirit.
As travelers, I think we have a responsibility not only to learn from cultures that are different from our own, but to pass on that knowledge. Greenlanders take life as it comes, day to day, and don’t ever complain when things get tough. They are taught how to live off the land. They’re taught to be resourceful. They are in tune with the environment. Most of us around the world have lost that knowledge, that close bond with nature, and we need to relearn it. It’s one of the reasons I spend so much time documenting everything these people teach me. I mean, it isn’t unrealistic to think that my journal and video footage might be one of the last records of this ancient culture. Beyond that, I like to think what I learn from others might actually help make me become a better person. Just take the “never complaining” thing as an example. I love that. Imagine living in a society where people don’t complain. To never have to hear anyone whine when things don’t go exactly their way. I mean, how awesome would that be? You know what, I’m going to try it myself. Lead by example, right?
Okay, time to put away the journal. The cold air has dried my skin to the bone and I’ve got this pretty nasty crack on my middle finger, which makes it really painful to write, so . . . oh, wait a sec. Am I already complaining? Jeez, I guess this is going to be a lot harder than I thought.
WYATT
APRIL 11, 11:03 PM
76° 13′ N 55° 48′ W
-7° FAHRENHEIT, -22° CELSIUS
CLOUDY, WIND 10-15 MPH
53 miles today. Not as far as we had hoped. Mostly due to a 12 mile stretch of uneven, fractured ice. The surface was so bad we were forced several times to get off our sleds and push them up and over sections of blocky ice that were piled high like fields of boulders. We’re approximately 167 miles from the Inughuit people, if my calculations are correct. The goal is to reach them in three days.
The snow conditions
where we stopped for the night happened to be ideal for an igloo, and since it’s supposed to get much colder tonight we decided building one would be worth the extra effort. It took a total of one hour and twenty minutes to complete. If Gannon and I had been more efficient cutting the blocks out of snow, we probably could have completed it in under an hour.
Here’s how it was done:
Using small shovels and saws we cut hard packed snow into square blocks. Unaaq said a good size for the base blocks is about 18 inches high, 24 inches long, and at least 8 inches thick. Fourteen base blocks were placed in a circle, providing just enough space for everyone to fit comfortably inside. Then we stacked another row of blocks on top. Once a block was cut and put into place, the edges were shaved with a blade and smoothed over by hand to bond them together. The trick is to stack the blocks in just the right way to create a dome shaped roof. We constructed the igloo from the inside and when it was finished Unaaq dug a small tunnel about a foot below the base so we could get out. Lastly, we poked small holes into the roof to allow for ventilation when we have a small blubber fire.
In addition to all the small dishes of blubber, Unaaq has a rectangular dish that is about a foot long, which we use for our indoor fires. It probably puts off about as much light and warmth as a dozen candles would, enough to warm the igloo, but not enough to melt the ceiling. There are definitely some drips here and there, but nothing to be concerned with. Unaaq explained that between body heat and a small fire, the temperature inside the igloo can be 40-50°F warmer than it is outside. I thought he must be exaggerating, but after dinner I looked at my thermometer and sure enough, it was 31°F inside the igloo. Compared to the outside temp, it’s almost toasty. Then again, a lot of our heat could be coming from Gannon’s big mouth.
Greenland Page 5