Day 13 Iqaluit and thoughts of home

 Day 13 Sat Sept 6

Disembarkation Day.  We sail up Frobisher Sound on our last morning, Iqaluit in sight far in the distance.  Once the anchor is dropped our luggage is winched down in nets and couriered to shore in zodiacs.  We don our red wet weather gear for one last boat ride, and then hike up the long beach from the low tide line.  The staff sort our lifejackets, boots, pants and coats as we strip off our expedition wear and transform into tourists again.  It's been a wonderful trip and I'm sorry to see it end, but I'm really looking forward to time on our own after being confined with 95 others for 2 weeks.



We arrive by zodiac at low tide and hike up the long beach.  Lack of infrastructure is a problem throughout the north.

From the hilltop, most of Iqaluit spread out before us

We have 2 days in Iqaluit with Barb and Greg before flying home.  A town of 7000, it's clearly booming.  Construction cranes hover over downtown, new subdivisions still clad in Tyvek sprout across the hillsides, and traffic snarls around the North Mart.  Half Inuit, half white, bubbling with English, French and Inuktitut, it's a vibrant, eclectic mix of Canadian images.  Our 'boutique hotel' is a well turned out collection of Atco trailers, like most northern hotels.  Our 42 inch TV features movies in 4 of our native languages.           Snowmobiles, boats, quads, bikes, dogs and old trucks dot local yards.  Hockey stickers festoon windows, as well as the occasional rainbow sticker, marijuana sign, and various 

Carvings surround Nunavut College

provincial flags.  Gas is $1.35 a liter, while milk is $2.50.  The most popular restaurant in town offers shwarmas and pizza, but caribou features on several menus.  (There is none though, and the reason may be a poor hunt last year.)  Arctic char is ubiquitous - fresh on menus, frozen in the market,  dried or smoked in every shop.







The landscape is northern - this is Baffin Island after all.  No trees, little vegetation, and lots of dust in town.  But there is rock - the beautiful granite of the Canadian Shield.  It forms the bedrock that houses perch on, the backdrop of the community, and the basis of all the decor in town.  Sculpture gardens adorn every corner. 



I loved this row of inukshuks on a corner

Massive blocks of rough stone line most streets.  Every public building (there are plenty) has several large carvings at each entrance.  Carving is also on display in all the shops - beautiful, delicate, captivating stone, ivory and bone art that captures the animals and scenery of the north.







 

Beautiful pink marble carving in the visitor's centre

We spend a day hiking in nearby Sylvia Grinnell territorial park.  Walking distance from our hotel, it is a palate of tundra fall colours spreading across rolling hillsides.  The glacial river cascades past the rocks, alive with spawning char.  Norbert and Greg fish while Barb and I hike the ridge of hills, scanning for hare and fox.  We are all skunked, but a day in such beautiful surroundings is never a disappointment.  Far from barren, these lands are rich with lichen, shrubs and berries.  The miniature vegetation is a lush and lovely forest canopy at our feet.




Greg and Norbert hike up the river in search of a perfect fishing spot



The ubiquitous Hudson's Bay Company

Our two days whiz by.  We eat well, walk miles, visit the museum and the fish shore, explore most of the 23 km of road in town, resist all but a few carvings, and talk to strangers.  Everyone is friendly and eager to converse.  The Inuit we've met at every stop have been warm and charming.  Their shy smiles often burst into happy grins as they talk and laugh with us, either about their community, ours, or hockey.  The children are curious and engaging, and we've been stopped on the street by kids who want to know how we like their town.  There is a tradition of humour and fun in Inuit life which is happily evident everywhere.  We love their wit and their good nature and we hope it will survive the inevitable onslaught of southern values.



Our northern voyage draws to a close, 2000 nautical miles of travel, 13 days afloat and several ashore.  We have met lovely people, seen wonderful sights, and immersed ourselves in the north.  Canada seems so small despite the vast distances we have traversed.  The north seems so fragile. 

The challenges are evident - climate change has devastated traditional hunting patterns, melting permafrost is changing communities as well as carbon balance, and lack of infrastructure hampers growth.  There is plenty of rhetoric about Canadian arctic sovereignty, but precious little action.  We have a lot to learn from the arctic experience, and a lot to gain by listening.

We leave the north with mixed feelings but there is so much more to see and do, and we can't help thinking about our next adventure.  Thanks for joining us on this one.

Addendum:  En route home, we hear the news that one of the Franklin ships has been found east of the Adelaide Peninsula.  Hurray for the expedition, and for the serendipity that sent the searchers further south this season!

Day 12 The fragile north

Day 12 Fri Sept 5

We continue south down the coast of Baffin Island, well out into Davis Strait, which feels like the North Atlantic.  The ship rolls and pitches in 3 metre swells and I hit the Gravol.  It's a long transit, and we are heading for the seabird colony on Monumental Island, off the entrance to Frobisher Bay.  Walruses haul out here too, so we have high hopes for good sightings.  However, for once nature opposes us, and the sea increases.  We reach the island midday, but waves are crashing on the shoreline, washing any lazing walruses away.  We can't use the zodiacs in these waves, so the ship nudges in close, but not a single thing is visible on the towering cliffs.  We steam away.

Ice continues to pass us down Davis Strait.

The day is filled with lectures and slide shows.  There are several professional photographers onboard who very generously show us their work.  I'm completely intimidated by their beauty.  The upside is that they will leave us with copies of their collections.  I may as well throw away my camera right now.

Norbert has captured the gyrfalcon about to take off

Arctic cotton flower, used as a wick in seal oil lamps

We talk with our favourite of the crew, and exchange emails with our new friends on board.  The passengers have been a very mixed group, and I confess I have divided them into those I would like to sit with again at dinner, and those I wouldn't.  There has been some arrogance and ignorance displayed here that is pretty unappealing.  Some of the Europeans and Brits have exhibited a superior and entitled attitude that  is very offensive in this northern culture.  Mocking the Inuit performers and belittling native art is simply rude and I hope that some education in cultural sensitivity is added to the onboard curriculum soon.

The cruise has been wonderful and different from what we expected.  The north has been completely captivating, the wildlife exceptional, and the people delightful, and that has made up for the missing historical aspect.  The NW Passage has eluded us, as it did Franklin.  We have followed the daily reports from our sister ship, the Vavilov, but they have been pushed south by ice in Victoria Strait and are searching closer to the Adelaide Peninsula with little hope of success this season.  The constant refrain for our voyage as well as the searchers has been the presence of ice so far south.  The polar ice is at an all time low, bears farther south in Hudson Bay are suffering for lack of ice, and yet the wind and tide have filled the critical passage with an impenetrable barrier.  The manifestations of climate change are remarkable and unpredictable, especially here at the epicenter.

Day 11 Pangnirtung

Day 11 Thurs Sept 4

 

Pangnirtung means land of the big male caribou

Pangnirtung today!  This little Nunavut hamlet tucked into the eastern shore of Baffin Island is a centre for Inuit art.  They have established a vibrant community for weaving, print-making and carving and the centrepiece of the village is a large gallery and studio space.  We are lucky to have Christine Lalonde on board who is the curator for Inuit art for the National Gallery.  Christine has given several talks about Pangnirtung artists, and we are excited to know we will meet some of her favourites here.





A local sled for ice fishing and hunting waits for winter

We pile ashore from the zodiacs, filling the wee village with our distinctive red outdoor gear, but all the locals seem to be out in the streets today too.  Everyone waves and smiles as we wander between the Parks Canada interpretive centre, the Art Collective buildings, and the Coop and Northern stores.  Most passengers seem desperate for some retail therapy and head immediately to the gallery shop, so we hike up to the cemetery.  Neat rows of white crosses line the rocky benchland - how awful it must be to dig a grave size hole here in the permafrost.  The view is lovely however - a breakwater encloses a small boat basin below, and all manner of workmanlike boats are at the docks or up on the shingle.  The original Hudson Bay Company buildings are freshly painted down by the shore, so we head over to explore.





The fish boat harbour, a welcome development from the federal government, and the only one in the territory



The blubber processing and packing plant



A summer camp, heated with a coleman stove and seal oil lamp

Pangnirtung was only developed to service the bowhead whaling fleet in this fiord in the 19th century.  The Hudson Bay Company and the RCMP were first here, then the Inuit gradually moved in for the land as their traditional lifestyle perished.  An epidemic of distemper that killed off many of their dogs in 1921 was the final straw for many families.  Traditional crafts have been preserved luckily, and Inuktitut is spoken everywhere.  Hunting and fishing have survived the move into town too.  At the community centre young volunteers offer us bowls of steaming hot soup - arctic char or beluga!  I choose beluga, with a great deal of ambivalence, but I feel that it would be hypocritical for me to eat steak tonight for dinner if I refuse the local fare.  It is delicious soup, but beluga looks and tastes surprisingly like tofu.  It is a mainstay of the local diet, a sustainable harvest, and a carefully regulated hunt.  I wonder if we can really argue with that.

We are entertained by young dancers and singers who perform with energy and grace.  Everyone from the village seems to be in attendance.  Several ancient looking elders grin toothlessly and clap time.  Moms and babies, clusters of teens, men with ballcaps and workboots all mix with us and chat.  We discover the common language of hockey when we spot a Montreal Canadiens hat - 'Habs eh?'  'We're Canuck fans' earns a big thumbs up.   I have seldom felt so welcome or so proud to be Canadian.

We check out some of the weavings, the prints, and especially the carvings.  Much of the intricate work is done with walrus tusk ivory, which most of the foreign tourists on the ship are not allowed to import.  I buy a pair of tiny perfect seal earrings and wish I could afford a larger stone carving too.  But we will have time later in Iqaluit, so I will exercise patience today.  Judging by the number of bulging backpacks returning to the ship, I think we've injected a healthy dose of currency into the local economy.



Detail from a large weaving depicting local life

 This trip has forced me to suspend some judgements that I arrived in the north with.  The harvesting of exotic species like beluga, walrus, narwhal, seal and polar bear may seem barbaric to those of us who can shop at a supermarket and a mall, but here it is a way of life, a cultural heritage, and a financial necessity.  The Inuit honour and respect these animals that have given them food, clothing, tools and shelter for generations, and I have to discount my southern bias that opposes hunting them.  The world is a complex organism, and we need to be mindful of its diversity.





Akademik Ioffe at anchor off the breakwater in Pangnirtung





Day 10 Aurora borealis

Day 10 Wed Sept 3

Aurora borealis!  Last night we were woken by Boris on the PA system announcing that the northern lights were dancing outside if we cared to come out on deck.  I had laid out my clothes just in case but nevertheless I fumbled and stumbled trying to get my socks, pants, sweaters, coats, hats and boots on in the right order.  We raced out onto the deck, into a howling gale, and crouched behind a lifeboat to watch the sky light up.  Great shivering sheets of iridescent green cascaded across the horizon.  A broad glowing ribbon rose into the dome of the night then twisted and spun its way back down.  Serpentine waves formed across the sea, like some giant dance of the veils.  And then it was gone.  Ten minutes of sensational pyrotechnics, and suddenly darkness.

We are now so far south that there are 6 hours of night, and the sky darkens to an inky blue at midnight.  For the first time in the voyage, stars are visible, although not so many, and no view of the Milky Way yet.  Our orientation is curious though - the Big Dipper is high in the northern sky, pointing to Polaris which is almost directly overhead.  We are still very far north!

Sunset is stunning, and easier to capture than the aurora.

This morning just as we arrive on the bridge we cross the Arctic Circle, 66*33, heading south just at the easternmost tip of Baffin Island.  Today the sea is grey and ruffled, the wind fierce, and the sky overcast.  We are heading into Sunneshine Inlet without the sun.  This southeastern coastline was mapped by Martin Frobisher in 1576 and John Davis a few years later, and they left many place names that we still use.  Although Frobisher Bay is now Iqaluit, it was where he reported the entrance to what he naively assumed was the fabled NW Passage.  It only took another 300 years to find the real one.





Even is grey weather the tundra glows with colour



Baird sandpipers in the shallows

Blueberries in abundance

The fiord is placid and lined with rolling hills and rocky promontories.  The tundra is decked out in splendid fall colours and even in the mist the reds and yellows of arctic beech and willow glow amongst the rocks.  We zip over to the shore in the zodiacs and hike for a couple hours, exploring the beach, the rocky headland, and the richly patterned tundra above the shore.  Wild blueberries, as tiny as peppercorns, dot the deep red bushes that lie flat to the ground, and we gorge ourselves on their exquisite taste.  Lichens of all colours and
shapes cover every surface.  These sustain the caribou and muskox where so little vegetation thrives and their abundance bodes well for survival this winter.  Far from being barren, the tundra is alive with growth and beautiful in fine detail.















The weather remains grey as we steam out of the fiord into Davis Strait.  To our east is Greenland, then Iceland, and Northern Europe.  Southward, the chain of Baffin mountains line the coast, linking the Arctic Cordillera of Ellesmere Island to the Adirondacks.  We cruise down the coast in a rugged sea, the ship rolling noticeably. My afternoon hot tub on the top deck is challenging - the wind is howling, the stairs slippery, and the water sloshing side to side - but it's fun to enjoy the luscious warmth in such adverse conditions. Franklin never had such luxury.

  



Watching the world go by

Day 9 Baffin Island and bowhead whales

The bride and groom saluted by their kayak compatriots

The stern deck is prepped for dinner al fresco as we sail out of the fiord

Day 9 Tues Sept 2

The view from our window

It's a slow start today.  Last night's party went on til the wee hours, with mostly the younger folk dancing away, but we did our best to hold up our end.  The wedding was held in the bridge, a small private affair, but then the happy couple came out to the forward deck under an honour guard of kayak paddles held aloft.  We celebrated with champagne and sushi, then moved to the stern deck for dinner al fresco.  The crew had set lovely tables outside, and we motored down the fiord as we ate.  The only problem I found with this happy plan was that dining outdoors on Baffin Island requires one to wear 14 layers of clothing and I could hardly bend my elbow to take a drink.  Thankfully the dancing warmed us up and I could shed about 6 outer layers.  Way too much fun was had by all!

According to the map we have almost 1000 miles to travel still, along the coast of Baffin.  We motor steadily through the night, and awaken in the midst of icebergs.  We are on the hunt for bowhead whales who congregate in the shallows off this stretch of coast to calve, feed and scratch their itchy spots, much like Robson Bight in BC.  As we slowly pull into Isabella Bay, a protected whale sanctuary, we see distant blows in all directions.  Several small groups of bowheads come close enough to photograph - lolling on the surface in the shallow turquoise water, or splashing and rolling by the shore.  None are as bold as the orcas who taunted us a few days back, but then these are much more massive whales.  Fifteen to twenty meters long, huge and solid, they can break through 6 feet of ice to breathe if they need to.  They are not as athletic, nor as interactive as the orcas, but they are still very impressive.

We head out, beyond the shallow shelf of coastline, and turn south.  Icebergs surround us - impossibly tilted cathedrals of ice, aircraft carrier decks, gigantic whales breaching from the waves.  Every one tempts the imagination to fantastic visions.  We cruise right along side one large flat tabular berg.  It is 60 feet high, completely flat, and over a kilometer long.  We feel fragile beside this floating giant.
















Our ship is a great platform for viewing the sea.  We have outside deck space everywhere, and I get my exercise checking the sights from the bow to the topmost deck.  One of our favourite spots is on the bridge.  It's a huge bonus that we have the run of the entire ship.  The bridge deck is our first stop each morning and our last one at night.  We follow our course on each day's chart, check the GPS and radar screens, make notes of headings, coordinates, wind and speed.  It's an added dimension to this cruise that I really enjoy.  The Russian officers speak enough English to help us decipher the electronics and seem happy to have us milling around them, binocs in hand.




Dropping the anchor is a very noisy affair



Norbert on the upper deck

The Russian dining room crew are less fluent, but charming and cheerful.  They are young and enthusiastic, and I suspect there are a few romances between these handsome young men and our younger female guides.  Sparks fly across the room occasionally and less than subtle glances are thrown.  One of my favourites is our waitress, Svetlana.  She has a shy smile that bursts into a big grin when I try out my good morning in Russian.  The same thing happened when I used it on our chamber maid and she burst into smiles and a torrent of Russian interspersed with gesticulations miming checking the time.  I'm guessing that you only use the good morning phrase at breakfast and there is something different for mid morning and lunch, but I can't for the life of me catch what that might be.


Day 8 Icebergs, cliffs and weddings afoot

 

Day 8 Mon Sept 1


Fantasy castles in the sea

 

Large flat icebergs dot the coast of Baffin Island

Massive shear rock bluffs mark the entrance

The ship has travelled south while we've slept, and we see a field of massive ice bergs around us and the steep cliffs of Baffin Island off our starboard side.  This is no longer sea ice, but huge chunks of Greenland that have calved off tidal glaciers and been carried across Baffin Bay to the Canadian shoreline.  One berg we pass is 2 km long.  Many have been carved into fantastic shapes and the captain takes us close to a few that look like fairytale castles afloat.

 We are headed south and east towards Scott Inlet on Baffin's north shore.  We turn in, between massive rock cliffs, and spend the morning watching the rocky pinnacles go by.  Deep into the fiord we come to a low valley where 2 rivers meet the sea on gravel eskers.  Scouts head out in zodiacs to 'secure the beach', but sure enough, a bear is resting by the river waiting for his dinner of fresh Arctic Char or tourist.  We won't be going ashore here, but we pile into zodiacs and cruise the shoreline beneath the 300 meter vertical slabs of rock.  Waterfalls tumble down from the ice cap, beds of heather, arctic willow and beech cling to every ledge.  It's amazing geology, and impossible to capture through my camera lens.




The shear cliff faces are daunting at close range

The vegetation here is exuberant in summer, but there is not enough growing season to allow anything more than 6 inches tall.  The willows grow in flat spidery clumps over the rocks.  It might take 500 years to grow to the thickness of your thumb and a spread of 12 inches.  These are not giant redwoods!  Their leaves have already turned bright yellow, and the beech, also seriously bonsai'd, are deep red.  The colours are fall colours but the plants are in miniature.





Fall colours brighten the tundra

 

Willows cling to the rocks, growing at a glacial pace

Tonight we have a surprise on board.  A couple in our group are going to be married by the captain.  They apparently met 4 years ago on the ship - he was from England, she from Australia, and they have been together ever since.  We are all invited to a champagne reception out on the deck after the ceremony on the bridge.  How romantic!

The ship is underway again so we will make our way outside and watch the fiord go by as we enjoy our champagne.  Tough life!


Day 7 Pond Inlet

Day 7 Sun Aug 31

 

Our local guide with her 11 yr old and newborn daughters

Narwhals feature in the Pond Inlet emblem

Pond Inlet today!  A Pond government town in every sense of the word, it was created in the 1920s to centralize services to a widespread population.  Now 1500 people, both Inuit and non-native, live here along a gentle slope above the sea.  Wood frame houses dot the shoreline and the few dirt streets that weave up and around to the airstrip on the low plateau.  There are schools, churches, a lovely looking health centre, visitors' centre and of course the Northern Store. 

The annual supply ship has been anchored offshore unloading the year's cargo this week, and crates of lumber, insulation and building materials are being moved up to the Coop.  A few new boats and trucks sit on the foreshore, and many crates labelled Skidoo are visible around town.  Although the homes look pretty decrepit there is clearly money to spend.



The annual sealift offloading in Pond Inlet.  All the year's supplies come this way.

 

A uniquely northern vehicle

We are welcomed by several local women in the traditional parkas with babies in their hoods and we tour through the village.  Everyone smiles and waves, children shyly eye us from behind their mom's legs.  The Parks Canada office has fabulous taxidermy birds and animals, as well as narwhal tusks on display.  The library has a display of traditional sealskin garments and parkas and several well done dioramas.

 




The old ice house - a cave dug into the permafrost hillside

We wind our way up to the community centre and settle in the large gym as a traditional drum dance welcomes us.  A young Inuit woman sings a hauntingly beautiful 'Oh Canada' in Inuktitut which brings tears to my eyes.  The tone changes as two vigorous young men demonstrate northern sports - impossible flying kicks, knuckle bruising hand stands, and grimace inducing lip pulling.  And I thought golf was a weird sport!

The young women sing and dance, the men drum.  Solemn dances, hilarious dances, joyous dances.  Then two women link arms facing each other and throat sing.  I've heard this, seen it on TV, but in real life it's amazing.  They are impersonating animals, their voices deep and hollow or high and flutelike, but very otherworldly.  I can see that some of our group are underimpressed - perhaps they expected more familiar fare, more civilization, but I am captivated.

I would like another few hours to explore, to talk, to photograph, but we have a schedule to keep and we are herded back to the zodiacs and the ship.  There are lectures (birds, ice) and yoga on the top deck.  I relax in the hot tub and decide that today is a perfect time to test the ice cold plunge pool.  It is filled with sea water, colder than anything I've jumped into before, but fantastically refreshing.  Hopefully there will be another opportunity before we reach our destination.  We are only half way through our trip and my mind seems to be overflowing with experiences.

Inuktitut clearly has more effect here