Greenland
Page 9
I remember everything about you. I can see you all almost as clearly as if you were sitting in front of me. It is a comfort to think of you. To play all the memories in my mind. There are too many to mention, but each one has brought a smile to my face. I just wish I could reach out and hug all of you one last time. I am trying to put on a brave face in this letter, but the fact of the matter is that I am terrified of the end.
It will probably be said that we pushed it too far. We may have, but it was done in an attempt to save the lives of others. What better reason is there to risk your own? We made a great attempt to help the Inughuit, and my hope is that Gannon and Nuka were able to complete our mission. My situation is the result of an accident. If anyone is at fault, it is me. No one else.
I do hope this unfortunate incident does not diminish your love of travel and exploration. I would be forever upset if I knew that was the outcome. Sometimes in exploration there are factors well beyond anyone’s control. It has been made clear to me how fragile a species we really are in the face of Mother Nature’s extremes. That being said, I would not change a thing we have done. When you pursue big dreams, you must accept big risks. I hope that all of you will continue down this path. There are still so many places to see and lots of good that can be done. Know that I will be with you in spirit wherever you go. I love you all more than you can imagine. You have made my life one great adventure and for that I feel blessed. Please remember me and continue in our effort, no matter how small it may be, to help make the world a better place. On that end, please pass along my journal and scientific records to the youth Exploration Society. I hope they will be useful.
Lastly, to Gannon, my brother and best friend. I do hope that this letter finds you safe and warm along with Nuka and the Inughuit people we tried so desperately to reach. Thanks for all the laughs. I don’t know that I would have ever developed a passion for exploration had it not been for your free-spirited ways.
Until next time,
your loving son and brother,
Wyatt
GANNON
It all happened like a real-life horror film playing out before my eyes. The sky was this dark and sinister shade of gray. A light rain was falling. It was just me and my mom and dad walking up this gently sloping hill, our boots crunching over the last of the spring ice. We aren’t saying a word to each other, just moving up the slope, dreading each step as we come closer and closer to a little white cross sitting alone on the top of the hill. Then all of a sudden it’s like I’m being pulled forward in fast-motion. Moving effortlessly over the ground to a rectangle of freshly shoveled dirt at the base of the cross. There, on the cross, I see an inscription that rocks me like a bolt of lightening:
The grave, it’s Wyatt’s!
Suddenly, every cell in my body detonates and I literally jump out of my blanket. I’m dazed and confused and feel the tears in my eyes. Then, finally it dawns on me—I’m inside the igloo!
Everyone is staring at me. Nuka sits up and asks if I’m okay. I take a deep breath and tell Nuka that I’m fine, but really, I’m about as far from fine as I could be. Outside the storm rages on, the wind whistling like some kind of haunting Arctic symphony. My fear is that the dream was real, like some kind of premonition being communicated to me by the spirits or something. I’m terrified that my brother is gone!
WYATT
APRIL 20, 11:57 PM
Storm and winds have diminished some, but I am too weak to take readings. It seems appropriate that I say farewell to the dogs. We had our troubles early on, but they proved loyal and saved us several times on this long sled journey. I will release them and hope they find their way to safety. It will most likely take everything I have to complete this task. It’s difficult to admit such a truth, but I’m afraid this will be my last entry.
GANNON
EARLY MORNING
First there was a howl, then another. Then, just like that, all the dogs were barking like mad. I figured they were warning us of some kind of danger, probably another polar bear or something, but after listening closely I realized these barks were different than the sound we’d heard them make when the polar bear was nearby.
Nuka and I and a few of the Inughuit men stepped outside and made our way to the dogs.
“What is it?” Nuka said to the dogs. “Huh? What’s going on?”
The dogs kept howling and barking and pulling at their leashes like they were desperate to take off in a full sprint. I turned around and looked into the fog. I still couldn’t see anything, but in the distance—way, way off—was a muffled sound. It kept getting louder and louder until it was unmistakable. It was the sound of dogs. Other dogs. Somewhere out of sight, dogs were running!
“Do you hear that?” I asked Nuka.
“Yes,” he said. “Sled dogs.”
We were both thinking the same thing, but were afraid to say it. We didn’t want to build up our hopes that by some miracle Unaaq and Wyatt were alive, only to have them crushed.
Nuka and I walked further away from the igloos, anxious for something to materialize in the frozen Arctic haze. The anticipation was killing me and the barking kept getting louder and then finally an image appeared, faint at first, then clear enough to see. Right there before our eyes a pack of sled dogs emerged from the fog like a group of phantoms. I counted twelve dogs total, all tied to a single wooden sled. It was one of our sleds!
But the sled was empty. No one was driving it. My stomach was in my throat as Nuka and I ran out on the ice and stopped the dogs. On the sled was a pile of fur blankets tied down with ropes. Nothing else. Where in the world were Wyatt and Unaaq? What had happened to them?
We unraveled the ropes and tore the blankets away one by one. That’s when we made an unbelievable discovery. Curled up and unconscious on the sled was my brother!
Right away I ripped off my gloves and found my way under his coat, checking his neck for a pulse. It was hardly detectable, a beat every few seconds, maybe. He was in pretty bad shape, just about frozen solid with these dark, sunken eyes and red blisters all over his face, but I was out of my mind with excitement. He was alive!
Unaaq had taken my sled to find Wyatt. Kamik and the rest of my dogs were harnessed to the sled right along side Wyatt’s dogs, but Unaaq was missing. It just didn’t add up. Nuka and I looked around frantically, screaming out Unaaq’s name at the top of our lungs. I kept expecting to see him come walking out of the fog. I didn’t want to believe that our wise old guide was lost out there in the storm, lost without any sled dogs to bring him to safety.
We went back to Wyatt, carried him to the igloo, and wrapped him up in blankets to thaw him out. He’s still out cold, but his pulse seems stronger and he’s breathing well.
Nuka is worried sick about Unaaq and just went back outside to clear his head and tend to the dogs. As soon as Wyatt wakes up, we’ll get the story. Hopefully, he has news of Unaaq’s whereabouts.
GANNON
When Wyatt finally came to, the first thing he saw was me and Nuka standing over him. After what he’d been through he must have thought he was dreaming or something because his eyes opened real wide and started bouncing around in his head like he was trying to figure out where he was. Before he could even get a word out of his mouth, tears began streaming down his cheeks.
“You’re safe, Wyatt,” I said. “You made it.”
I don’t think Wyatt could believe it. I’m still having a hard time believing it myself.
Nuka and I made him some hot tea and gave him a biscuit, but his lips are so cracked and bloodied he cringed in pain at the first sip and didn’t want any more. When he finally had the strength to speak, he told us the tragic story of Unaaq and their desperate struggle against the storm.
Honestly, I don’t even know what to say. It’s so hard to accept that Unaaq is actually gone. I mean, it just doesn’t seem possible. Seriously, this whole thing is like another crazy nightmare that I need to wake up from. When we got the news, Nuka tried his best to be strong
, but could only keep his sadness in check for so long. Soon, he started to cry. We all cried.
In all of our travels, I’ve had the opportunity to speak with elders from lots of different cultures, and even though their customs and rituals can be very different, most believe that there is some kind of heaven awaiting us after this life. It’s impossible to say what’s true and what’s myth, really. I guess we won’t know for certain until it’s our turn to make that journey, but all these discussions have given me some ideas on the subject. The way I’d sum up my own belief is that when a person leaves this world, well, a part of them remains with us. I mean, they’re alive in our memories and all, for sure, but I think it’s more than that. It may sound crazy, but sometimes I can feel the presence of others, people who are no longer here. I think it’s their spirits or whatever. And if that’s true, or even partially true, Unaaq is definitely with us. He’s with us and can feel all the love and appreciation we have for him. For real, I can easily imagine him standing before me with that big smile of his. There is definitely some comfort in that.
“My uncle was a great man,” Nuka said, wiping his eyes. “I learned much from him over the years. It is very sad to lose him. However, this is our way of life. Unaaq explained it to me himself. He left his body on the ice. He would have wanted it no other way. A new journey has begun for him, but his wisdom and kindness will not be forgotten.” Nuka looked to the sky. “Thank you for all you taught me, Uncle. I will miss you.”
Finally, we were able to get a radio call through to Siorapaluk and learned that it should be clearing some over the next day, so we’re planning to move out as soon as we’re able.
It would be better if Wyatt could rest awhile longer and build up his strength before heading back into the cold, but we don’t have that kind of time. His hands and feet are swollen like balloons. He has blisters all over his face and he’s still in and out of consciousness. He needs medical attention as soon as possible, and we’re down to the last of our food. Any more time out here and some of the Inughuit will succumb to starvation, so there’s really no choice.
The dogs are all up and moving around and it seems they’ll have enough strength to pull the sleds. The fact that Unaaq figured out what was ailing the dogs and came up with a remedy to heal them is just incredible. Truly, Unaaq is a lifesaver.
GANNON
Wyatt is wrapped like a cocoon on the front of Nuka’s sled with his hands and feet double wrapped to keep them from getting any worse. We’re moving west and the storm is blasting us full on from the side as it moves south, but overall we’re running good and fast across hard ice where the wind has blown off much of the snow.
Way up here this time of year the sun doesn’t really set, just dips real low on the horizon and then comes back up. The constant light makes it possible to continue sledding as long as we have the strength. We covered a lot of distance today. Sixty miles, I’m guessing. Maybe even 70. Who knows? Not really keeping track, just doing all we can to keep the dogs moving. We’re hungry, running on adrenaline, and a little shaky, but determined to get to Siorapaluk.
GANNON
POSSIBLY OUR LAST STOP
The worst of the storm has moved to the south of us and there is no more weather approaching from the north that we can see. The sun, like a ripe orange, sits low on the horizon. Above us is this amazing purple-blue sky and much further out over the ocean are all these wispy stripes of red and pink. A sunset in the middle of the night!
“I believe Unaaq has made a nice painting in the sky for us,” Nuka said.
“He sure has,” I said.
“These colors are a sign that we are safe. Maybe it was Unaaq who cleared the way for us.”
“I guarantee it was. Thank you, Unaaq.”
We can’t be far now and to be honest I didn’t want to stop, but truth is I don’t think I could have gone another mile without falling face down in the snow. Wyatt is only conscious for short bits of time. He’s eaten very little, and doesn’t say much when he’s awake. He’s just too weak.
Unaaq, my good friend, please see us through to the finish!
GANNON
THE FINAL PUSH TO SIORAPALUK
Coming around a mountainous point, we spotted a channel of water off in the distance. We hugged the shoreline where the ice was thicker, and as we ran I noticed some movement way out on the open water. At first I thought it might have been a family of walruses, but when I took out the binoculars for a closer look I was surprised to see one of the most unique creatures on the planet—the narwhal!
There must have been, I don’t know, fifteen, maybe even twenty of them. All swimming together with their unicorn horns sticking up out of the water like a bed of needles. It was so awesome to get a glimpse of these rare and bizarre creatures, and under different circumstances we would have gone to the edge of the ice to get a closer look, but we didn’t even break stride. At this point in our journey, we weren’t stopping for anything.
Narwhals surfacing for air
Maybe an hour or so later the triangular roofs of Siorapaluk came into view. At the sight, everyone started to shout and holler with pure joy! The thought that we were coming to the end of this long and difficult journey was an incredible relief and all at once I experienced an overwhelming release of emotion. All the stuff I’d kept buried inside, I guess—the fear and sadness, the exhaustion and excruciating pain, all mixed with the sudden and immeasurable relief of knowing that I was going to survive—it all just poured out of me. My eyes filled with tears and I sobbed uncontrollably.
Village in the high Arctic
As the dogs pulled us to the edge of town, we were greeted by just about every person in Siorapaluk. Men, women, and children streamed out of houses and onto the snowy street, all with smiling faces and watery eyes, shaking hands and hugging one another. A chorus of sighs and laughter filled the air. Everyone was simply overjoyed to see their loved ones safe and sound after they’d been stranded on the ice for so long.
We carried Wyatt and a few others who were very weak into the village where the town’s only nurse is now tending to them. We all hugged Suunia, and she told us how sorry she was to hear of Unnaq.
“He was a brave and wise man and will be sorely missed,” she said. “Unfortunately, when you travel on the ice, there is always a chance you might not make it home. This is something every Greenlander understands. Given the severity of this storm, we must count ourselves lucky that more of you did not meet the same fate.”
Suunia said this was the worst spring storm they’ve seen in over 50 years!
She’s right. It’s a total miracle any of us made it back.
WYATT
APRIL 23, 12:22 PM
SIORAPALUK, 77° 47′ N 70° 38′ W
12° FAHRENHEIT, -11° CELSIUS
SUNNY SKIES
Resting in a warm bed. Thankful to be alive and grateful for our friend Unaaq. The remedy he made saved the lives of 14 people who had been stranded for weeks. Rightfully so, Unaaq is a hero here in Siorapaluk. In his memory, they erected a cairn, which is a high pillar of round rocks stacked atop one another. Personally, I don’t know that I’ll ever get over what happened to us on the ice. I don’t see how I could. It will be with me forever.
As for my condition, the top half of my little toe was black and swollen to twice its normal size. Nothing could be done to save it, so the nurse did what needed to be done. I’ll be walking with a slight limp until it heals completely, and I’m sure Gannon will come up with all kinds of nicknames for me now that I’m missing part of a toe. Considering what I endured, I am very fortunate I did not lose more.
Everyone else has been hydrated and fed and seems to be doing well. Gannon, Nuka, and I will stay in Siorapaluk for another day or two so that the nurse can monitor my recovery. Aside from the toe, she wants to keep an eye on several frostbitten spots on my left hand, foot, and face. Some have turned the slightest shade of gray, but I should recover. Once I am cleared by the nurse, we will be f
lown to Ilulissat to meet our parents, and Nuka will rejoin his family. All my parents know is that Gannon and I arrived safely in Siorapaluk. The rest we will tell them in person.
GANNON
I’ll be totally honest, I was feeling pretty sick to my stomach at the thought of flying back to Illulissat and seeing my parents and all of Unaaq’s relatives. I mean, what was I supposed to say to Unaaq’s friends and family? How was I going to console them? I’d never been through this kind of thing. My stomach was turning over in flips the entire flight.
But, Nuka told us that Greenlanders know as well as anyone the dangers of an Arctic expedition. Like Suunia said, they understand that every time someone goes out on the ice they may not come back. That’s life in the far North. Still, nothing could have prepared me for how calmly Unaaq’s family and friends handled everything. Their serenity, it kind of blew me away. Over the course of this journey, the people of Greenland have given me a new appreciation of the things that are really and truly important in life—love and compassion, family and friendship. Bottom line, if you’ve got that, you’ve got everything.
This whole thing was a huge shock to my mom and dad. I mean, they were pretty much speechless after they picked us up and learned of everything that happened. And when my mom came across the letter Wyatt had written to us from his snow cave and read it aloud, there wasn’t a dry eye in the room. We might have sat around all sad and red-eyed the rest of the day if Nuka’s parents hadn’t come to the hotel and insisted we all join them at their family’s store for a “Greenlandic celebration.”