Greenland

by Patti Wheeler

  After being stranded here for so long, the poor Inughuit are in worse shape than we are. They ran out of food days ago and it shows in their faces. Most have sunken cheeks and dark eyes that hold distant, blank stares. And their movements are real slow. I think these long Arctic storms have a crazy numbing effect on a person’s brain. I mean, you push yourself to the limit in this kind of weather, but ultimately something’s got to give. At times, I’ve felt like I had exhausted just about the last of my energy. My mind would get stuck in slow motion and my body became this empty, lifeless shell. I’d sit there in a near stupor and wonder how I was managing to keep from falling over dead. I’m actually feeling another wave of exhaustion come over me now. I sure hope this food helps restore some of our strength.

  But, honestly, I’m not worried about us right now. At least we’re sheltered from the storm. What I’m worried about is Wyatt and Unaaq.

  WYATT

  APRIL 17, 1:51 PM

  -23° FAHRENHEIT, -31° CELSIUS

  BLIZZARD CONDITIONS, 50+ MPH WINDS

  My entire body is stiffening. So numb, even the slightest movements take thought and effort. My lips are cracked and bleeding. My tongue is like a dried sardine. The taste in my mouth is almost nauseating. What I wouldn’t pay for a heater, toothbrush, and some lip balm right about now.

  All but one dish of seal fat has been burned. What I have remaining will be used within the day. I continue to move my fingers and toes to keep circulation flowing and I ate some snow earlier, but what I’m craving most is food. If I had something to eat, I would not be as concerned for my safety.

  To pass the time I have thought a lot about what I will do when I get home. First order of business, I’ve decided, will be to get a big juicy cheeseburger and a mountain of fries from Woody Creek Tavern, my favorite burger restaurant. Then, I think I’ll wash the burger and fries down with a mammoth pepperoni slice from New York Pizza, one of the best pizza joints in the whole world. At the moment, I am having visions of food that are so vivid I can practically smell it. Oh, if only these visions could fill my empty stomach.

  GANNON

  Warmed the remedy to an icy slush and gave all 36 dogs two spoonfuls, just like Unaaq instructed. Dogs are lethargic. Sick and probably close to starvation. Hoping they’ll bounce back somehow. Plan to give them another dose tomorrow and try to feed them. We’ll know a lot more then.

  WYATT

  APRIL 17, 10:03 PM

  -24° FAHRENHEIT, -31° CELSIUS

  BLIZZARD CONDITIONS

  Barometric pressure at 30.10 millibars and steady. Wind blowing from the WNW, bringing cold from the top of the world. This storm does not seem to be going anywhere.

  A numbness has settled in the toes of my left foot and I’m also losing feeling in my left hand. Frostbite, I’m afraid. Could use sleep, but my concern is that I will not wake up. Again, my hope is that a rescue is underway.

  GANNON

  Not even time functions properly in this cold. It’s slowed to a halt, just like everything else. Each minute feels like an eternity. I honestly don’t know how long we’ve been on this ice sheet anymore. I’ve totally lost track. Days, weeks, months? Doesn’t matter, I guess.

  I wish there was a way for me to reach my parents. It would be so nice to hear their voices. Then again, I dread having to pass along this news. I dread it more and more with each passing minute. No joke, I feel like I’m going insane.

  Hold it together, I keep telling myself over and over.

  Hold it together, Gannon.

  Hold it together!

  Oh, man, if I could trade places with Wyatt I’d do it in a second flat. No questions asked. I’d do anything to save him.

  Anything!

  WYATT

  APRIL 18, 9:51 AM

  Got good news and bad news.

  Good news first. I have stopped shivering and am comfortable, strangely enough. The bad news, this means hypothermia has entered its final stage. In other words, I am dying, freezing to death right where I sit. Never thought I would write such a thing, but it is a fact. My seal blubber is gone. Without fire it is hard to generate warmth. Especially at -25°F.

  I keep dreaming about what other kids around the world might be doing right now. Swimming or biking or just hanging out with friends. Maybe eating a hot meal or sleeping in a warm bed. How I wish I were doing one of those things. How I wish things had turned out differently. Whether it’s a couple days or a matter of hours, the time I have left is short.

  GANNON

  Where are you, brother? Has Unaaq found you? Are you both making your way here? Bravely battling the storm? Trying with all you’ve got to save yourselves? I am sending you all my energy. I hope you can feel it. I hope it helps you find your way back to us. Please, Wyatt, find your way.

  WYATT

  1:24 PM

  My eyes opened at the sound of crunching snow. I thought I was having some kind of hallucination, or that maybe I had died, because there before me, crawling out of the storm, was Unaaq. His face was a solid sheet of ice, almost unrecognizable. Icicles dangled from his beard, his furs were plastered with snow, his eyelids almost frozen shut.

  How could this be?

  How had he found me?

  Unaaq collapsed at my feet and I dragged him further inside, out of the wind. He could barely speak.

  “Unaaq,” I said, “Can you hear me? Are you okay?”

  “I have supplies,” he said in a slurred, whisper of a voice. “And a radio.”

  I tried to brush the ice away from his face, but it was frozen to his skin. I needed to warm the cave. Warm Unaaq.

  Adrenaline took over. My heart was racing. Life was once again flowing through me. There was no choice. I had to go back into the storm and bring Unaaq’s supplies back to the cave. Outside, it was blinding. I couldn’t see anything. Fortunately, the dogs were all barking. I followed the sound to the sled, untied several containers and began dragging them back through the deep snow, but the wind was blowing so hard I couldn’t find the cave. There was absolutely no visibility. I tried to shield my eyes from the wind, but I still couldn’t see a thing.

  I would freeze to death if I didn’t find my way back to the cave. I knew this and became frantic, moving around in circles, searching desperately for the entrance. Finally, I stumbled upon the flag I had planted outside the cave. Scrambling back inside, I wrapped us both in fur blankets and hung another blanket over the shovel at the entrance to block the wind. My left hand had almost no feeling, which made it difficult to manage the blubber lamps. Finally, I got one lit and then a second. The cave filled with smoke and the smell of charred seal fat. I waved it out the best I could.

  The heat from the lamps might possibly be the greatest thing I have ever felt. I am thawing out my hands, wiggling and clapping them over the flame. The cave has warmed considerably. I am keeping the flames close to Unaaq in an effort to melt the ice away from his face.

  No luck yet with the radio. I tried to reach Gannon, Nuka, or anyone from Siorapaluk, but I’m getting only static. Also sent an SOS in the hopes someone out there receives it.

  GANNON

  We gave the dogs a second dose of medicine and mixed in a couple chunks of seal meat to get some protein in their system. I may have been imagining this, but it seemed like they had a little more pep this morning. Now, again, we must wait to see if they improve.

  Inside the big igloos, we mostly pass the time in silence. Everyone is tired and cold and hungry. We’re all wrapped in blankets. Sleeping on and off. Occasionally, someone will speak and Nuka will translate. They tell stories of the Arctic and how the weather has changed in their lifetime. How it is no longer predictable. How the seasons are confused. Warmer in the winter, less ice, more open water, then an unusual blizzard like this one so late in the season. So much of their life is dictated by the weather and everything is changing, they say.

  Looking around at all the faces of the Inughuit, I am in awe. It would be impossible for me to feel anything
but respect for them. It’s just mind-blowing that for thousands of years they have been able to exist up here in this unforgiving climate. As we sit here, trapped in this terrible storm, it just doesn’t seem possible that anything could survive.

  WYATT

  APRIL 19, 7:36 AM

  -22° FAHRENHEIT, -30° CELSIUS

  HEAVY SNOW AGAIN, WINDS 30+ MPH

  Unfortunately, Unaaq is in bad shape. The ice on his face melted away, revealing serious damage. His eyes are terribly swollen and several large blood blisters have developed on his nose and cheeks. He doesn’t even look like himself. I am warming us up the best I can, but it will take a while, as I’m only burning one blubber dish at a time to keep from using it all up too quickly.

  I opened one of his supply containers and found some meat and a half dozen biscuits, enough to keep us going for a few days, dogs included. Unable to wait long enough to thaw the meat, I dropped a frozen strip in my mouth and let it sit there, savoring the salty flavor as the ice melted away. I could almost feel my body absorbing the nutrients. Then I crawled into the gale and gave a handful of meat to each of the dogs. Unaaq will need to eat soon, too. He will never be able to travel by sled unless he gets his strength back. Judging by his condition, he has been out in the storm since we separated. He risked his life to save mine. Now I must return the favor.

  I still cannot get through to anyone on the radio. It may be no use. Worse, the battery is nearly dead.

  No one can hear us.

  No one can get to us.

  GANNON

  Knud Rasmussen wrote that northern Greenland is “a land without heart where everything living must fight a hard battle for life and food.” I keep wondering what he would do in this situation. In all those years he explored the Arctic, Knud experienced just about every kind of hardship imaginable. Unfortunately, things didn’t always go as planned and sometimes they actually went a lot worse than planned, like during the Second Thule Expedition. The weather got so bad even Knud’s crew couldn’t avoid tragedy. Two of the men on that expedition died, and we’re talking about some of the most experienced polar explorers there ever were. I’m sorry, but we have to face reality. We’re not immune to tragedy. Sometimes we might think we are, but that’s just ignorance. Truth is, lots of explorers far stronger and more experienced than us have died, and if it happened to them, it could definitely happen to us.

  WYATT

  10:08 PM

  -27° FAHRENHEIT, -33° CELSIUS

  Unaaq woke earlier and was able to take a few sips of water. He could not eat, though. Had no appetite. Amazingly, he still manages a smile when he speaks.

  “What is the condition of your sled?” he asked, his voice cracking in the cold.

  “It’s stuck in a crevasse and badly damaged,” I said. “Without major repairs, it’s useless.”

  “Have you checked the dogs?” he asked.

  “Yes,” I said. “I fed them earlier and they seem to be holding out okay.”

  “If the weather breaks you must take the good sled. Do not worry about me.”

  “I won’t leave you, Unaaq. We’ll get out of this together.”

  “You will know when it is time to make a run and at that time, you must go. I am too far along to travel. I would only slow you down and put us both in danger. You must be able to run the sled fast and freely if you hope to make it.”

  “I could never leave without you,” I said. “I’m sorry, I just couldn’t do it.”

  “I am an old man,” he said, and was consumed by a hacking cough. I gave him another sip of the snow I had melted. When his cough settled, he continued with a smile. “Should it be my fate, I am ready to begin my journey in the next life.”

  “Please don’t talk like that, Unaaq. We’re going to get out of this together.”

  “There is no need to fear death. It is part of our experience. Every one of us.”

  I turned my head away and fought back tears.

  “This conversation is not meant to be sad,” he continued. “I do not see it that way, and I do not want you to see it that way either.”

  He smiled at me and closed his eyes. Soon, he was asleep.

  Unaaq selflessly came back for me and together we will fight this out to the bitter end.

  I will not leave him.

  I will not let him die.

  GANNON

  Finally, something has gone our way! The dogs seem to be coming around! I mean, it’s pretty much a miracle, but it looks like Unaaq’s remedy is really doing the trick! Several of them are back on their feet, moving around, howling, showing real signs of life.

  Nuka and some of the Inughuit are outside tending to them now. They need more food in them if they’re going to pull everyone to Siorapaluk. As of now, the plan is to leave tomorrow morning, no matter what the weather. I am not looking forward to going back out there, but we really have no choice.

  I’m hoping that Wyatt and Unaaq make their way here before we leave. I mean, they have to. I can’t imagine leaving without them. If it comes to that, oh man, I honestly don’t know what I’ll do.

  WYATT

  APRIL 20, 1:53 PM

  When Unaaq woke, he looked me straight in the eyes. A smile came over his face and he lay there for some time, quiet and thinking.

  Finally, he made an effort to sit up and I helped him.

  “Are you feeling better?” I asked.

  “I will be okay,” he said, though his voice did not indicate that he was any better. In fact, it was so faint, it seemed the voice of a ghost.

  “I have a story to tell you,” Unaaq said. “It is a story my father told me many times when I was a boy.”

  I moved closer to him so I could hear.

  “Once there were two caribou, a father and a son, and they were making a long trek over the ice. The father was a wise, old caribou. But as it happens, a polar bear picked up their scent and began trailing them. And though the polar bear was careful to stay out of sight, the father caribou knew that it was near. He stopped his son and spoke to him.

  “‘Son,’ he said, ‘you must continue towards the coast where your mother will be waiting. Take her further still to the place where the snow melts away and the grasses grow in the summer. There is something that I must do alone.’

  “ ‘Will you meet us in the grasslands, father?’

  “The father looked at his child and said, ‘We will all be joined again when the time comes.’

  “The child was afraid to go without his father. He worried that he might never see him again. However, his instincts told him that his father’s wisdom should not to be questioned. ‘Yes, father,’ said the young Caribou, and continued on.

  “The father knew that if he did not face the polar bear alone, it would take them both. His son was still young and had a long life to live. There were many things the young caribou had not yet experienced. His father would not allow his life to end so soon. Once the son was far enough away, the elder caribou went to face the polar bear.

  “The bear said to the caribou, ‘Where is your son?’

  “ ‘He has gone ahead.’

  “ ‘Then I must chase him.’

  “ ‘He is already far from here.’

  “ ‘Then I will run fast and catch him.’

  “ ‘It is possible. However, if you do, you will lose out on me and I am almost three times his size. Whom would you rather have?’

  “The next day the son reached his mother and they went south to the place where the snow melts away and the grass grows in the summer. In time, the son began to understand the wisdom the father had passed on to him as a child and eventually he grew into a great leader.”

  Unaaq’s story consumed me. While he told it I almost forgot the grave situation we faced ourselves.

  “Excuse me, Wyatt,” Unaaq said. “I must step outside. I need some time to myself.”

  With great effort, Unaaq lifted himself and crawled forward, disappearing into the storm. I have gone out twice to look for him,
but he is nowhere to be found. The second time out I tethered all of the dogs to one sled just in case the storm lets up enough to make a run. This task drained all but the very last of my energy. I am desperate to help Unaaq, but my body is shutting down. If I go out again, I’m afraid I won’t make it back.

  Being stuck here, with all this time to think, I’ve realized that there are a lot of things I wish I had said to certain people when I had the chance. I’m beginning to think I should put some of these things down in my journal. Some thoughts for Mom, Dad, and Gannon.

  “A Letter to My Family”

  Written on April 20, day #20 of our expedition

  Dear Mom, Dad, and Gannon,

  This is a letter I never expected to write. Though, I guess I am fortunate to have the strength to do it. Unaaq has walked off into the blizzard so that I might have a chance to live. Together we would have no hope of making it to safety. Fact is, he was too far gone. We both knew this. His concern for me must be recorded. Please pass along to Nuka and the rest of his family that he was the wisest, most compassionate, and bravest man I ever had the pleasure of knowing. Surely, they will understand this, but I hope it will provide some comfort to hear that these characteristics remained with him until the very end.

  Despite Unaaq’s brave act, I’m afraid I am unable to continue. Since being stranded, my hopes have been placed on a change in the weather. Unfortunately, the only change was from bad to worse. Outside the temperature is -20°F, with a wind chill so fierce I have no desire to calculate it. I have enough food to keep from starving, a box of tea to drink, and for the most part I am comfortable. There is simply nothing more that can be done against this cold. It is overtaking me. I see signs of worsening frostbite on my left foot and hand, though the pain is not as bad as you might think. The exhaustion is the toughest part. It takes a tremendous effort just to get these words down.