Standing on the threshold of the unknown
Greenland – Canada | Anno 2023
Tuesday, August 22 | Baffin Bay
Wednesday, August 23 | Baffin Bay
Thursday, August 24 | Pond Inlet
Tuesday, August 22 | Baffin Bay
It feels as if we are approaching a glacier, so cold is the wind blowing towards us from the north over the anthracite-grey waters of Baffin Bay. But apart from a solitary iceberg on the distant horizon, there is nothing to see. We are now in the middle of the sea, having left Greenland behind, with no land in sight. The gentle swell causes the Fram to pitch slightly on the waves, but for now, it bothers us little.
Standing on the threshold of the unknown – that must have been the feeling that overcame explorers in these waters. For they knew that if the Northwest Passage truly existed, the key to that gateway to the Pacific Ocean had to lie somewhere in Baffin Bay.
Standing on the threshold of the unknown – that must have been the feeling that overcame explorers in these waters
Black-legged kittiwake
We feel a similar sense of venturing into the unknown. In two days, we will reach the Canadian Arctic Archipelago on the other side of Baffin Bay, but we are unsure what exactly to expect. Fortunately, we have Heidi with us. As a member of the expedition staff, her role is to introduce us to various aspects of Inuit culture and teach us how to engage with it respectfully. Alongside her sons, Gregory and Eli, she will do this with passion.
Heidi herself belongs to the Inuit – singular, Inuk – a people once referred to as Eskimos, a term now considered derogatory. She resides in Toronto, making her an urban Inuk, but her heart and mind are firmly with her people along the coasts of the Canadian Arctic Archipelago. Over the past few days, Heidi has remained somewhat in the background, as she doesn’t speak on behalf of the Greenlandic Inuit. However, that’s about to change.
Many communities receive supplies only once a year via cargo ship
It took a long time, Heidi realizes, but since 1999 the Canadian Inuit have had a new territory of their own. It’s called Nunavut, with Iqaluit as its capital. Nunavut isn’t a fully-fledged Canadian province like Ontario but rather a territory, meaning the federal government still holds certain powers. This is quite logical, given the vastness of Nunavut and its sparse population, which lacks the capacity to function entirely autonomously.
The numbers speak for themselves. Nunavut covers just over 2 million km², roughly the size of Greenland or equivalent to the combined area of France, Germany, the United Kingdom, Spain, and Italy. In this enormous expanse, only 32 000 Inuit live – about the population of Gibraltar. That brings the population density to just one person per 62 square kilometres.
Traditionally, Inuit lived exclusively along Nunavut’s coasts, where the sea mammals they rely on are found. The only exception is the community of Baker Lake, where life revolves around caribou hunting.
Today, over a quarter of the Inuit live in urban settings like Heidi. Altogether, the Inuit population stands at around 70 000, in a country of 37 million Canadians. The average Inuit is only 27 years old.
With a handful of facts, Heidi outlines the precarious material situation of the Inuit. Nunavut has no roads, and food costs are three times higher than elsewhere in Canada. Even when food is available, supermarket shelves are often sparse. Many communities receive supplies only once a year via cargo ship. If weather conditions prevent delivery, essential goods must be airlifted by helicopter. Discarded items remain scattered around homes since removing them is too expensive, and the frozen ground makes it impossible to bury waste.
Sometimes, a couple will voluntarily give their newborn to another couple, especially if the latter cannot have children
What makes the Inuit resilient is their strong sense of community. Small communities are tightly knit, often feeling like one large family. Sometimes, a couple will voluntarily give their newborn to another couple, especially if the latter cannot have children. No one finds this odd, not even the child, who knows both their biological and adoptive parents and is loved by all four. This intricate sense of community also reveals itself in their language. Inuit have distinct words for uncles on the father’s side versus the mother’s, as well as separate terms for older and younger siblings.
Northern fulmar
The Inuit have typical gender roles – hunting is for men, and sewing clothes from animal hides is for women. However, they approach these roles flexibly. A person who was given a woman’s name at birth but enjoys and is good at hunting will not face social pressure to stay home and sew. Likewise, a person with a man’s name who prefers to stay home and sew clothes will not be met with mockery or ridicule.
The Inuit’s ability to survive in extreme conditions is partly due to their endurance and enormous resilience. Perhaps it also comes from their great sense of humour. They are not talkative people; they are people of few words. Non-verbal communication plays a significant role. If an Inuk raises their eyebrows, the answer is yes; if they push their nose downward, the answer is no.
Starting in the 1950s, the government began moving Inuit to the far north. Completely against their will, and without any say in the matter
The story Heidi switches to now can only be described as depressing. To put it in a blunt way – in seventy years, the Inuit have evolved from igloos to iPods. But it has become a very tragic story, and too often the federal government has been the source of all the misery.
It all began with the infamous relocation policy. Starting in the 1950s, the government began moving Inuit to the far north. Completely against their will, and without any say in the matter. The purpose was to affirm Canada’s claims to those islands during the Cold War. If Canadians lived there, then those islands belonged to Canada – it was that simple. The Inuit started to call themselves human signposts.
Heidi’s father was one of them. When he was sixteen, he was put on a ship and taken to an unknown destination. They had been promised housing, but upon arrival, none existed. They had to live off hunting, but the people there did not want to share their hunting grounds with the newcomers.
The aim was to take the Indian out of the child and turn them into Western model citizens
Naturally, those relocated were eager to return to their original homes as soon as possible. But he RCMP, the Royal Canadian Mounted Police, or Mounties, had a solution for that. They simply killed the sled dogs of those involved. In ten years, it is said that a hundred thousand sled dogs were killed. Heidi’s older sisters still remember it as if it happened yesterday – how the RCMP came one day and killed all their family’s dogs.
The fact that sled dogs were vital for the Inuit, that they needed them for hunting and thus for their food supply, was completely ignored. It even happened that Inuit went to a trading post to sell their goods, only to find when they came outside that their sled dogs had been killed. They could no longer return to their settlements.
To this day, the government denies that this was a deliberate policy. So no apology has ever been made, Heidi says. Worse, the RCMP investigated this themselves and concluded they were not to blame. A truth commission, however, disagreed.
Under the pretence of providing proper education, the government took Inuit children from settlements and sent them to residential schools. These were boarding schools where children were raised without the supposed bad influence of their parents or other members of their community. The aim was to take the Indian out of the child and turn them into Western model citizens. A truth and reconciliation commission later called this an attempt at cultural genocide.
In a nondescript area lay 215 missing Indigenous children, buried anonymously without their parents ever being informed
The last residential school did not close until the end of 1996. And it wasn’t until June 11, 2008, that the government finally issued an apology. Then, in May 2021, a scandal broke that made international headlines. Using radar technology, a mass grave was discovered near the Kamloops Indian Residential School. In a nondescript area lay 215 missing Indigenous children, buried anonymously without their parents ever being informed. High mortality rates – up to 60 % – were not unusual in these schools. Malnutrition, abuse, and infectious diseases were commonplace.
Northern fulmar
Tuberculosis is a true scourge for the Inuit. They are 400 times more likely to contract TB than the rest of the Canadian population. Poor housing is one of the causes, but it’s also due to the fact that in winter, they are forced to live very close together, making it easy to spread the infection.
Infected patients were taken to so-called Indian hospitals, a result of an inherently racist policy
From the 1940s onward, the government tried to address this. A ship with doctors, nurses, and radiologists was sent to the north. Everyone was required to come aboard the ship for examination. If an infection was detected, the patient was not allowed to disembark, not even to say goodbye. Men and women were thus forced to leave their families behind, and children were separated from their mothers. It got to the point where Inuit were afraid to be seen in the settlement while the ship was docked.
All of this was happened under duress. Infected patients were taken to so-called Indian hospitals, a result of an inherently racist policy. These sanatoriums were reserved for the Indigenous population and were located in the south, hundreds or even thousands of kilometres from their homes.
Thousands of Inuit women were sterilized without their consent or even their knowledge
If they died there, they were buried in unmarked graves, and their families were not even informed. Medical experiments on Inuit were also conducted. If someone went to the doctor for something, they could be experimented on for something else. Thousands of Inuit women were sterilized without their consent or even their knowledge.
Naming is a complex matter among the Inuit, at least from a Western perspective. The Inuit believe in a form of reincarnation and try to encourage this through naming. For example, Heidi's father was highly respected for his kindness and virtue. Since his death in 2000, at least 25 people have been given his name, in an attempt to keep his qualities alive in those people. Conversely, if a baby was particularly fussy, it was sometimes advised to give the child a different person’s name in hopes of improvement.
However, this name was not necessarily the one used in daily life. Often, a title like uncle or grandfather was used, simply because it felt right, even if there was no familial relationship with the individual in question.
If you ask older people their names, they might still give you their number, according to Heidi
For the government, this was too complicated. So in 1942, they introduced the infamous Eskimo Identification Tag. An example of such a 'name' was E9407. ‘E’ meant East, ‘W’ meant West, and 9407 was your serial number. If you ask older people their names, they might still give you their number, according to Heidi.
It wasn’t uncommon for strange rules to be imposed without consultation. For example, you suddenly needed a passport to travel from Canadian Nunavut to visit family in Danish Greenland. Or local economies were devastated by a European ban on the import of seal products.
Heidi also shares some positive news. It will take time, perhaps several generations, to eradicate racism from society. The Inuit now have their own territories – Inuvialuit, Nunavut, Nunavik, and Nunatsiavut – and their own leaders. There is limited political representation. More and more, the Inuit are successfully asserting their rights, for example, against mining companies.
Education is now a regional responsibility, and the curricula have been adapted to Inuit culture. For example, extensive lessons on trees make little sense here
Every community, no matter how small, has a primary school for children aged four to twelve. Furthermore, education is now a regional responsibility, and the curricula have been adapted to Inuit culture. For example, extensive lessons on trees make little sense here. Higher education is also flourishing. Nunavut Arctic College now has five campuses, where students, including future lawyers and economists, are trained.
The difference between the Greenlandic and Canadian Inuit is also reflected in their writing systems. Heidi's son, Gregory, is happy to explain more about this. The Greenlanders opted to adopt the Latin alphabet to write their language. However, Inuktitut, the Inuit language, tends to compress the meaning of an entire sentence into a single word. This sometimes leads to a cryptic jumble of letters that we find difficult to pronounce.
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Take, for example, the text on this sign in an indoor playground, Gregory grins: Ulluunerani paaqqinnittarfiup ammasarnerata avataatigut pinnguartarfimmiinneq inerteqqutaavoq. Loosely translated, this means that you may not enter the indoor playground at the moment because the facilities outside the day centre are accessible. We can barely read the words, let alone understand them. On the other hand, a word like Facebookkitinniipput – meaning Facebook account – is much less cryptic.
Much less cryptic is a word like Facebookkitinniipput, meaning Facebook account
In Canada's Nunavut, however, the Inuit use a specific set of 45 written characters. To us, this may seem even more cryptic, but the system builds on similar writing systems introduced to other Indigenous Canadian peoples starting in the 19th century, which led to an unexpected boom in literacy.
In fact, each character in this script represents a syllable – a consonant plus a vowel. For example, the symbol ᒥ stands for the syllable mi, ᒧ for mu, and ᒪ for ma. The Inuit name for Pond Inlet is Mittimatalik, which in the Inuktitut script is written as ᒥᑦᑎᒪᑕᓕᒃ. A typical feature in Canada is trilingual stop signs – Stop in English, Arrêt in French, and ᓄᕐᒃᑲᕆᑦ in Inuktitut.
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Trilingual stop sign |
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By way of conclusion, Gregory asks us if we've understood everything. We raise our eyebrows in response.
By way of conclusion, Gregory asks us if we've understood everything. We raise our eye-brows in response
Meanwhile, a circle of mist has settled around the Fram. We can see a few hundred meters ahead, but no further. It's as if we’re isolated and alone, swiftly sailing through our mini-universe of white fog and a gently undulating, ink-black sea.
And we’re doing so at a speed of 12 knots, as our Norwegian captain Sverre informs us during his usual midday announcement over the PA system. Since leaving Ilulissat behind last night, we’ve travelled 238 nautical miles – about 440 km. We still have 358 nautical miles to go before we reach Pond Inlet on Thursday morning. Dividing 358 by 12 tells us it will take just under thirty hours. But the weather conditions are expected to improve this afternoon, he concludes.
A solitary black-legged kittiwake has made an appearance, and now and then a northern fulmar flies by. Otherwise, it’s calm on the open sea. The visibility has improved, and we can now see in all directions, but there’s no land in sight. Of course not – we’re more than 300 kilometres away from any solid ground.
By early evening, the mist closes in around the Fram again, only to lift about half an hour later. For the Fram, it doesn’t matter much; thanks to the radar, we maintain our speed of just over 11 knots.
However, something strange is happening. In fact, we are moving away from Nunavut and approaching Greenland again
However, something strange is happening. A glance at the real-time map on the TV screen reveals that we’re no longer heading northwest as we should, but have been on a northeastly course for some time. In fact, we are moving away from Nunavut and approaching Greenland again. Furthermore, the Fram is now cruising at a brisk speed of 14 to 15 knots.
Northern fulmar
Later, it will turn out that the border formalities were not completed in time, and that's why the Fram had to remain in international waters longer. The increased speed is meant to compensate for the time lost due to this detour.
For the fourth time, we will set the clock back an hour tonight.
Wednesday, August 23 | Baffin Bay
Quarter past seven. The world we wake up to seems to have been completely drained of colour. What we see are low-hanging grey clouds, a gently rippling, anthracite-grey water surface, and little birds dressed in black-and-white suits. In the distance, a solitary iceberg adds a touch of white to the drab scene.
A light rain is falling, the sea sways with a steady rhythm, and visibility is almost limitless. The Fram is sailing northwest at a leisurely 7 knots. It’s still not the correct direction, but much better than last night. The captain will soon explain that we have to follow a different route and slow down again, as the Canadian customs won't be ready to clear us in Pond Inlet until tomorrow morning.
It’s hard to believe, but these little birds consume about sixty thousand copepods on an average day
Little auk
Those black-and-white birds turn out to be little auks. You have to pay close attention to see them; only their white bellies reveal their presence. Occasionally, they surface for just ten to twenty seconds before diving back down. During the breeding season, they stay on one of the islands in the Northern Arctic Ocean, but they spend the winter out at sea, primarily feeding on amphipods. It’s hard to believe, but these flashy little birds, weighing only 150 to 200 grams, consume about sixty thousand copepods on an average day. That may sound like a lot, but that enormous amount corresponds to a dry weight of about 30 grams.
While Nunavut is indeed a vast, almost uninhabited territory, there are strict rules to follow when landing anywhere. You can encounter so-called artefacts everywhere – various buildings or objects made by human hands. Often, they are barely recognizable as such, and sometimes only a professional eye can clarify their significance.
Expedition cruises in the Canadian Arctic Archipelago must always have a professional archaeologist with a Permit Class 1 on board. This is where Emma comes in, a Canadian member of our expedition staff from Nova Scotia. Like Heidi, she has kept a low profile so far, as she doesn’t have any authority in Greenland.
Emma’s role will be to provide information about the archaeological sites in Nunavut, as well as to protect them and ensure that we respect them. She reassures us that she doesn’t intend to train us to become archaeologists, but having a little insight into the field can’t hurt, right? She herself has gained experience both in the lab and in the field at about thirty archaeological sites.
This didn’t stop the colonizers from entering graves, disturbing them, and taking artefacts, sometimes even mummies
Northern fulmar
Archaeology has existed for a long time, but it hasn’t always been done well. Initially, it was colonizers who engaged in ‘excavations’. These were people from elsewhere who didn’t even know the local culture. This didn’t stop them from entering graves, disturbing them, and taking artefacts, sometimes even mummies. A scientific approach only began to emerge in the mid-19th century, and it wasn’t until the 1960s that proper scientific methods were rigorously applied.
Modern technology has created many new possibilities. Emma’s favourite is Lidar, which stands for Light Detection and Ranging. This device captures images of the ground from an aircraft and makes it much easier to recognize underground contours. But fieldwork is also important – digging test pits to explore the soil and then systematically excavating units of one square meter down to 1,2 meters deep.
However, it is not simple. Recognizing archaeological sites requires a trained eye. One must be able to read all the subtleties in the landscape. What is becoming increasingly important – rightly so, according to Emma – is the input from the Inuit. It’s essential to involve local communities in the story, not only as a matter of respect but also because of their knowledge.
Inuit knew exactly where the HMS Erebus and the HMS Terror had sunk. However, no one took the time to listen to them
Western explorers have spent many years searching for clues about what happened to the unfortunate Franklin Expedition after 1845, with little success. Meanwhile, the Inuit knew exactly where the two ships involved, the HMS Erebus and the HMS Terror, had sunk. However, no one took the time to listen to what they had to share from their oral traditions.
Fortunately, indigenous peoples, including the First Nations and the Inuit, have gradually become interested in their own history. Emma has active colleagues who belong to the Mi’kmaq. However, the fact remains that Western archaeologists currently know more about their culture than they do.
Northern fulmars
Of course, conducting archaeology in the Arctic presents unique challenges. The harsh cold, permafrost, frozen ground, and difficult accessibility are just a few of the hurdles. However, these cold and dry conditions can preserve organic materials such as leather, ivory, and human remains exceptionally well. Take, for example, the mummies of Qilakitsoq. Such preservation conditions are found nowhere else in the world. However, climate change poses an imminent threat. Coastal erosion sometimes exposes artefacts, which can then be washed away.
Twelve o’clock. Still 215 nautical miles are separating us from our destination, according to Captain Sverre. The wind will increase from the southeast this afternoon. But what stands out most in his announcement is how deep the water is here – 2 100 meters, which is significantly more than the 700 meters we encountered yesterday. The Davis Strait indeed forms an underwater threshold between the Labrador Sea and Baffin Bay, significantly influencing sea currents.
It took over four centuries before Roald Amundsen succeeded where John Cabot failed. Today, expedition cruise ships traverse that route seemingly effortlessly
Outside, it continues to rain. Visibility is limited to a few hundred meters around the ship, with fog beyond that. We are now sailing westward at over 9 knots, directly toward our goal. However, the Fram won't maintain that speed for long. Gradually, we reduce our speed to 4 knots.
It took over four centuries before Roald Amundsen succeeded where John Cabot failed. In 1906, he finally managed to navigate the Northwest Passage from beginning to end with considerable effort. Today, over a century later, expedition cruise ships traverse that same iconic route seemingly effortlessly with a swarm of tourists on board.
So what is the future of this Northwest Passage? Shipping companies are confident this future looks bright. You just have to do the math on profits to agree. A ship travelling from London to Tokyo via the Panama Canal covers approximately 23 000 kilometres. If it takes the slightly shorter route through the Suez Canal, that becomes 21 000 kilometres. Choosing the Northwest Passage means it’s only 16 000 kilometres. That translates to less time and lower costs, which is a significant advantage. Furthermore, it allows them to avoid the bottlenecks of the Panama and Suez Canals. Since March 2021, we have learned what it means when one of those narrow passages is blocked by a ship.
The underwater noise from the ships poses a significant threat to marine life
Northern fulmars
But there are plenty of reasons for us to be concerned about this, says Vicky, one of the guest scientists on board. Along with Betty, she is part of the British Antarctic Survey, a UK centre for polar studies.
Worldwide, 95 % of bulk transport is currently handled by ship. For these vessels, the Northwest Passage is becoming increasingly attractive as an alternative. Climate change is further reinforcing this trend. Globally, the temperature has risen by approximately 0,6 °C (1,1 °F) compared to the average from 1971 to 2000. The amount of ice has undeniably decreased. Where the passage was completely impassable in September 1979, it was no longer an issue in 2000. Particularly in 2020, there was less sea ice during the winter.
Furthermore, there is the unwanted introduction of exotic animal and plant species
For now, the Baffin Bay is still relatively calm. However, there has been an undeniable increase in the number of ships since 2010. This is especially true in Pond Inlet, not only due to rising tourism but also because of the cargo ships transporting ore from the iron mine in Mary River.
This brings serious environmental risks, according to Vicky. First of all, there is the underwater noise from the ships, a problem that has long been overlooked, yet poses a significant threat to marine life. Underwater, marine mammals communicate with each other through sound. This is particularly true for mothers with calves, and that relationship is at serious risk of being disrupted.
Furthermore, there is the unwanted introduction of exotic animal and plant species. Experience shows that heavily trafficked shipping routes suffer from this issue. The Mediterranean Sea, the coasts of the United Kingdom, and the west coast of the USA can attest to this. Without a doubt, such pollution will also reach the Arctic. Exotic species can, for example, cling to the ship's hull or be drawn into the ballast tanks.
The vast majority of cargo ships still rely on heavy fuel oil as fuel
Northern fulmar
In Pond Inlet, a diver will therefore inspect the hull of the Fram. Additionally, water samples will be analysed for environmental DNA, the DNA that organisms leave behind during their interaction with the environment. After all, the Fram follows the same route as all the other tourist boats and can thus serve as a model. It may be possible to gradually establish some sort of early warning system, a system that identifies potential dangers in time so that measures can be considered. It may seem strange, but until now, no such research has been conducted.
Then there is the issue of particle contamination, both in the air and in the water. The vast majority of cargo ships still rely on heavy fuel oil as fuel, a viscous substance that isn't even liquid at room temperature. When burned, it inevitably releases black carbon. To register that emissions minute by minute, a black carbon monitor has been installed. In the water, it is mainly microplastics that Vicky and Betty keep an eye on. They take water samples and fish out the tiny particles and organisms using filters ranging from 300 µm to 50 µm.
Outside, visibility is now almost unlimited. However, the sky is cloudy, the seawater appears dark grey, and there is hardly any birdlife to be seen. So there’s not much to experience; a quick breath of fresh air is enough before heading back inside. There, Heidi and her son Gregory turn to a different approach in the Explorer Lounge – no more theoretical discussions, but visual demonstrations.
Gregory has brought a traditional drum, not made from caribou bone and seal skin, but from wood and nylon. Such a drum is not played on the membrane, but on the wooden rim. We remember this from Micky’s explanation in Nuuk. Gregory accompanies his mother as she sings a song about two stars that announce the arrival of spring. Then Gregory performs a drum dance. He fluidly imitates a polar bear, a caribou, and a raven.
Next comes throat singing, or katajjaq as the Inuit call it. It's a strange affair. Heidi and Gregory give a nice demo, but in principle it's always two women who perform the duet. They stand close together, facing each other, and grab each other by the elbows. Then one of them starts the throat singing, and the other follows. The aim is to hold it as long as possible without bursting into laughter. This playful practice inevitably ends with two women standing together laughing.
Inuit throat singing can be compared to the haka of the Māori in New Zealand – just as strongly intertwined with the identity of the people, just as alienating for outsiders
Because that is what it’s all about. Throat singing is not a form of music but a form of entertainment. Women used to pass the time with it while the men were out hunting. It was also customary to begin throat singing to speed up the men’s return, to attract animals, or to influence the natural elements. That is a thing of the past. However, the function of entertainment and promoting group cohesion has not been lost in throat singing. In a way, Inuit throat singing can be compared to the haka of the Māori in New Zealand – just as strongly intertwined with the identity of the people, just as alien for outsiders.
Common murres
If the throat singing has already managed to surprise us, the sports that the Inuit have practiced for centuries are even more remarkable. Of course, they are very simple in design. No sports equipment is needed, and sports infrastructure is simply not available in the small communities of the Arctic. Moreover, the Inuit were concerned with more than just relaxation or competition.
The explicit intention of the Arctic sports was to train strength, endurance, and agility
The explicit intention was to train strength, endurance, and agility, as these skills were essential for hunting and fishing. Nowadays, the competitive element has become more prominent. Every year, the Arctic Winter Games take place where the best athletes – both men and women – compete against each other.
Gregory may not be a trained athlete, but his demonstrations make it clear what it’s all about. Take, for example, the One-foot High Kick. A ball hangs from a string. The athlete jumps into the air with both legs and tries to hit the ball with one foot, then land on that same foot without losing balance. The record stands at a staggering 117 inches or 2,97 meters.
Even more challenging, if possible, is the Alaskan High Kick. The athlete lies on their back, supported by their hands and feet – facing upwards. Then, they grab their right foot with their left hand, so they are balancing only on their right hand and left leg. The goal is to kick a ball hanging from a string with the left foot – while only supporting themselves on their right hand. Then, they must land back on that left foot without losing balance. The record for this stands at an astonishing 84 inches or 2,13 meters.
It’s no surprise that murres are among the biggest victims of oil pollution at sea
Common murres
Outside, the northern fulmars have been joined by common murres. Their white bellies and long, pointed beaks make them easily recognizable. You will rarely, if ever, see murres on land. They spend the whole year on the open sea, only nesting on steep cliff coasts during the breeding season. There, they lay their eggs exposed on the bare rocks. Evolution has ensured that these eggs are pear-shaped, so they don’t roll off the rocks.
Common murres often float on the water’s surface, sometimes to rest and sometimes to search for food just below the surface. It’s no surprise then that murres are among the biggest victims of oil pollution at sea.
Of course, we should not trample through a tent ring
It’s not very cold on deck, but it’s the icy wind from the north that drives us back inside. Fortunately, it’s no longer raining. The Fram is now steering westward, more specifically towards the west-southwest. This means we have sailed a bit too far north.
Around eight o'clock tomorrow morning we will arrive in Pond Inlet. This will be our first contact with the Canadian Inuit. Emma, our onboard archaeologist, is giving a final briefing on how we should behave. That is her legal obligation.
Common murre
First, she has to check all locations to see where we are allowed to walk and stand. We already know that we must not disturb artefacts, but the danger often lies in the details. Because the remains of a tent ring or a fox trap are not easy to recognize as such. There is a protected area of thirty meters around artefacts, and we are never allowed to approach closer than two meters. Of course, we should not trample through a tent ring, leave traces behind, or treat graves without respect.
While Emma focused on how we should treat the past, Heidi talks about how to engage with the living community of Pond Inlet. It is a thriving community, which she is very enthusiastic about, but where traditional values remain important. Taking photos of sled dogs is not allowed without the owner’s permission. Likewise, you may only photograph children with permission – from the parents, of course, since the children themselves are often eager to be photographed. Even though there are no fences around the houses, the land around them is private property. So, we are expected to stay strictly on the road or the sidewalk – wherever there is one.
For the Canadian Inuit, a stone marker or inuksuk is a guidepost that helps them navigate the snow-covered tundra in winter
Building a small cairn or stone marker may seem like fun, but it’s strictly forbidden. For the Canadian Inuit, a stone marker or inuksuk is a guidepost that helps them navigate the snow-covered tundra in winter. An inuksuk can serve many purposes. Just like Western traffic signs, it can indicate a direction or a danger, but it can also demand respect for a certain place or mark a caribou migration route. Near a lake, it may point to an ice-free channel or a spot rich in fish. Obviously, if we start adding some improvised cairns in our enthusiasm, we would only create confusion.
Common murre
Be prepared, Heidi adds, that there may occasionally be an uncomfortable silence when you ask an Inuit a question. Inuit often do this while they think about their answer. They are considering who they are dealing with and what they can say to that person. Are they perhaps being asked by someone from the RCMP, the mounted police? This healthy dose of caution is simply a consequence of their tragic history.
Expedition leader Maria shifts the conversation to practical matters. Tomorrow, we will arrive at Pond Inlet around eight in the morning. Beyond that, there isn’t much more to say about the schedule, as it depends on the clearance and immigration procedures – customs control and identity checks. It’s possible that immigration will need to be done face-to-face, meaning we will have to present ourselves individually.
This healthy dose of caution is simply a consequence of their tragic history
In any case, the local community is offering us a Community Visit Program. Guides will lead us around the town, and the visit will end with a performance. As for the weather, we should prepare for it to be colder than in Greenland. Rain is also expected, along with a significant wind of 10 to 12 m/s, or about 40 km/h. In terms of how it will feel, the wind could easily make it feel six to seven degrees colder.
Thursday, August 24 | Pond Inlet
Quarter to seven. On the port side, the coastal mountains slowly glide past the window. Apparently, we haven't reached our destination yet. The Fram quietly sails westward through Pond Inlet, the narrow channel that leads to the settlement of the same name, with the vast Baffin Island to our left and Bylot Island to the right. In this sheltered area, there’s hardly any swell in the sea. Thick, grey clouds hang over the land, and not a trace of blue sky is to be seen.
The wind is indeed bitterly cold and blows stronger than expected. We can barely open the door to the outer deck
In the covered passages below the bridge at the front, the fierce wind makes it nearly impossible to breathe
Bylot Island – Sermilik glacier
The wind that Maria warned us about last night is indeed bitterly cold and blows stronger than expected. We can barely open the door to the outer deck. On the starboard side, two small glaciers descend from the mountains of Bylot Island toward the sea. In the distance, a cargo ship approaches from the interior.
Kitikmeot W
An iceberg leisurely makes its way toward Baffin Bay. About halfway between the iceberg and the coast, the Fram comes to a halt. We are at 72° 42’ north latitude – one and a half degrees farther north than Norway’s Nordkapp – looking out over Pond Inlet. This settlement has about 1 500 residents, and their houses are scattered across the coastal hills. On the hillside, large white stones spell out the name Pond Inlet. At the very top, we can make out the silhouettes of many white crosses in the cemetery. By now, we know that the Inuit, even after death, like to enjoy a wide-open view.
What a difference compared to the settlements in Greenland, we think involuntarily
Pond Inlet
What a difference compared to the settlements in Greenland, we think involuntarily. When you look at Greenlandic settlements like Nuuk, Sisimiut, or Ilulissat from the sea, the sight of those colourful towns with their multicoloured houses exudes a cheerful optimism. Not so in Pond Inlet. Some roofs are red, and some houses are blue or brown, but grey dominates the scene. Add the gloomy weather conditions like today, and the overall impression almost naturally feels depressing.
On the hillside, large white stones spell out the name Pond Inlet
Pond Inlet
The cargo ship from this morning turns out to be the oil tanker Kitikmeot W. The name refers to one of the three regions that make up the territory of Nunavut, namely Kitikmeot, Kivalliq, and Qikiqtaaluk. Within this last region, Pond Inlet is the third-largest settlement.
Seven thirty. It’s busy at breakfast. Even though it's still unclear when we will disembark, everyone understandably wants to be ready. The only thing we know is that we must be back on board by twelve thirty because the Fram is only allowed to stay until one o’clock.
Pond Inlet
Eight o’clock. We get out the muck boots and rain pants, as it's likely to be a wet landing, and there’s a chance it will rain. Beyond that, we wait. Outside, an icy wind is howling around the boat. Taking a walk on deck 5 is no fun. In the covered passages below the bridge at the front, the fierce wind makes it nearly impossible to breathe.
Quarter to nine. A zodiac with our archaeologist Emma and several other scouts heads ashore. We also learn that we will soon have to undergo a security scan on deck 2, both when leaving the ship and upon returning. This is required by Canadian law.
Pond Inlet is so close, yet feels so far away
Pond Inlet
Nine twenty. Two more zodiacs with expedition staff members are heading ashore. Apparently, they’re disembarking onto a floating dock. Will it not be a wet landing after all? What’s happening on land, we don’t know. Pond Inlet is so close, yet feels so far away – just like the grapes in Tantalus’ torment.
Ten o’clock. Still, there seems to be no progress. However, there are now four Canadian customs officers on board – a woman and three men. The Fram is quietly sailing back and forth at the entrance of the small harbour, like a visitor nervously pacing in a waiting room. The border delay is slowly reaching South American proportions.
Meanwhile, off the starboard side, the Shinkai has appeared, an unusual ship with a dark brown hull and white upper deck. It turns out to be a superyacht with an ice-strengthened hull, equipped with a 7,2-ton submarine and a crane to lower it into the water. The presumed owner: Russian oligarch Vladimir Strzhalkovski, a former KGB lieutenant colonel.
Eight minutes past ten. The PA system brings relief. In ten minutes, the first zodiac will depart. The temperature is 3,6 °C (38,5 °F), but the strong wind could spoil things, making the wind chill feel like it’s below freezing.
The strong wind could spoil things, making the wind chill feel like it’s below freezing
At eleven o'clock, everyone is ashore. A friendly Inuit woman, barely one meter thirty tall, is there to greet us. She has a microphone with a small speaker and, as we’ll soon discover, a great sense of humour. Her real name is Rosy, but everyone – including us – calls her Soekoe.
Seventeen hundred plus, that’s how many residents Pond Inlet has, according to Soekoe
Soekoe |
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Bilingual traffic sign (kr) |
She immediately reminds us, once again, that we are not allowed to take photos of children without the parents' permission. So, no photos of children if their parents aren't around, she adds sternly. We also cannot photograph individual houses, but it's fine to take pictures of groups of houses in a street.
Seventeen hundred plus, that’s how many residents Pond Inlet has, according to Soekoe. With plus she refers to the unborn children still in their mothers' wombs, she explains with a mischievous grin. By saying this, she proudly emphasizes that Pond Inlet is a thriving community.
By saying this, she proudly emphasizes that Pond Inlet is a thriving community
Pond Inlet
The settlement's English name comes from John Pond, a somewhat famous British astronomer, whom John Ross had in mind when he set foot here in the summer of 1818. However, the Inuit have called this place Mittimatalik for centuries, supposedly because a man named Mittima is buried here.
In the 1960s, missionaries and members of the RCMP – the Royal Canadian Mounted Police – arrived on the scene. This marked the beginning of the infamous practice Heidi mentioned earlier. Inuit children, who lived scattered across the region, were forcibly brought to Pond Inlet. Here, they were given a Christian upbringing with the goal of taking the Indian out of the children and turning them into Western model citizens.
Inuit children, who lived scattered across the region, were forcibly brought to Pond Inlet
Pond Inlet
A truck drives around the settlement to deliver potable water to each household. Installing a water supply system in the permafrost is, of course, unthinkable. Similarly, wastewater is collected by a truck, as Pond Inlet does not have a sewage system either. The necessary connections are located on the outside of the houses, where the truck driver just needs to attach a hose and activate the pump. It’s said that confusing the two connections is impossible – luckily so.
Diesel fuel is also delivered directly to homes. Energy supply is, of course, critically important. When the ice breaks in the spring, the first ship to arrive in Pond Inlet after the long winter is typically a diesel tanker.
We’re curious to know if polar bears ever appear near the settlement. The answer is yes, and they are promptly chased away. If they keep coming back, after three or four visits, they are killed. It’s crucial that polar bears do not get the idea that Pond Inlet is part of their natural habitat.
Every three months, doctors and dentists come for two weeks to provide medical care
Pond Inlet (kr)
In the distance stand the houses where, half a century ago, the abducted children were housed. One of these houses is now being converted into a youth centre, another is being transformed into a meeting place for mothers with children, and the third is becoming a gymnasium. You can't say that Pond Inlet isn't a thriving community.
As we climb higher up the hill, we leave the private homes behind and find ourselves among public facilities. One of these is the medical centre. Usually, only nurses are present there. Every three months, doctors and dentists come for two weeks to provide medical care. You're supposed to make an appointment in advance, but it can happen that the schedule is full, and you have to wait another three months.
We then reach the edge of the modest but vital airport with its unpaved runway. A plane lands here every day, according to Soekoe. Except on Sundays, she adds. At the moment, a propeller plane is idling with its engines running. They've had to build a wire fence around the airport. After all, an airport with caribou constantly grazing on the runway is not a great sight.
After all, an airport with caribou constantly grazing on the runway is not a great sight
Airport
A small power plant supplies electricity to the town. In the distance, we can see the tanks containing oil, diesel, and gas supplies. Closer by is the secondary school Nasivvik, where students from grades 7 to 12 can attend. They also have two supermarkets, which seem reasonably well-stocked. We see fresh avocados, pineapples, and beetroots on the shelves, but at high prices. A litre of orange juice costs 5,40 euros, and a fresh avocado costs 3 euros.
Mittimatalik is the Jewel of the Arctic
Mittimatalik is the Jewel of the Arctic. They surely don't mince words, as this is the first thing we hear when the cultural performance begins at a quarter to twelve. We learn that the Inuit have lived here for centuries, but Pond Inlet only came onto the map when the Hudson’s Bay Company established a trading post here in 1921. Then in 1960, the infamous residential school was established. As we know, this was the catalyst for the forced relocation of Inuit children from the surrounding areas. Naturally, their parents were suspicious of the situation and came to live in tents nearby to be close to their children. Thus, the settlement we know today gradually grew.
Pond Inlet officially became a Canadian municipality on April 1, 1976. Today, it can boast a kindergarten, an elementary school, and a high school – all vital levers for a flourishing future. There is also an adult education program available. You can even find a post office here.
Naturally, their parents were suspicious of the situation and came to live in tents nearby to be close to their children
Traditional fire (kr)
Crucial to life in Pond Inlet is, of course, the polar climate. The polar day lasts here from mid-April to mid-August, while the polar night stretches from mid-November to mid-January. Living in complete darkness for several months affects a person in various ways. Moreover, outdoor temperatures can drop to as low as –45 °C (–49 °F). Add some wind, and it quickly feels like –55 °C (–67 °F). But the Inuit are very resilient, the speaker concludes with pride.
To demonstrate this resilience, the Inuit national anthem is now sung, and everyone stands respectfully. This marks the beginning of an engaging athletic and cultural spectacle. Inuit sports are not only focused on competition and training but also on togetherness and survival. They help people remain mentally and physically healthy, even during the long polar night.
The sports help people remain mentally and physically healthy, even during the long polar night
Two foot High Kick (ks)
Onboard the Fram, Gregory already gave us a simple demonstration of the High Kicks, but here Brandon introduces us to the real thing. He starts with the One-foot High Kick. Brandon takes a small run-up, flawlessly taps a ball hanging at a height of 2,5 meters with his foot, and effortlessly maintains his balance upon landing. He also gives a breathtaking demonstration of the Two-foot High Kick – striking the ball with both feet – and the Alaskan High Kick.
Traditional song (kr)
Then it’s time for the elders to take the stage in the cultural segment. Women perform a traditional song while a man executes an accompanying drum dance. A fire is ritualistically lit with a special fuel, accompanied by the murmuring of traditional texts.
Ritual fire (ks)
Two young boys perform a drum dance with great enthusiasm, rivalling the performances of adults. Their outfits are meticulously prepared.
But it is especially the throat singing that moves us. Heidi and Gregory had already given us a modest impression of this, but these two young ladies make the room resonate with their powerful voices.
Let people know we are here, the speaker concludes in a surprising manner
Drum dance (kr)
Let people know we are here, the speaker concludes the performance in a surprising manner. Yes, these people want to be heard; they want the world to know that there are people living in this remote corner and that they are doing well. Bon voyage, they wish us as we prepare to leave.
They want the world to know that there are people living in this remote corner and that they are doing well
Throat singing (ks)
Soekoe leads us back to the Fram, not without making a quick stop at the Nattinak Visitor’s Centre. It’s clear – and certainly not blameworthy – that this community is strongly focused on tourism as an important economic pillar for their survival.
Cemetery
Only at a quarter past two can the Fram continue its journey. Immediately, it becomes apparent that it is heading eastward, rather than westward as we had expected. This means we will sail completely around Bylot Island to reach Lancaster Sound, rather than taking the shorter route through Tasiujaq, or Eclipse Sound as that channel was formerly known. This is strange, as we were looking forward to it. If you want to spot belugas or narwhals, Tasiujaq is the place to be.
However, therein lies the problem. The narwhal population in Tasiujaq has been declining significantly. Inuit hunters from Pond Inlet had already reported this in 2022, and scientific research has confirmed their observations. In 2013, the narwhal population was estimated at 10 489, but by 2021, it had dropped to 2 595 – less than a quarter. Not coincidentally, the decline in the narwhal population coincides with the increase in ship traffic. The noise pollution from vessels is particularly pointed out as a contributing factor.
Not coincidentally, the decline in the narwhal population coincides with the increase in ship traffic
The local hunters therefore submitted a written request to the Arctic Expedition Cruise Operators, or AECO for short, the association of all expedition cruise operators in the Arctic. AECO has responded to that request, which means that cruise ships will now avoid Tasiujaq. Unfortunate as it may seem, it is the only correct decision.
However, there is still work to be done, as it is primarily cargo ships that traverse the bay. Their numbers should be limited as much as possible, and they should travel more slowly to reduce noise. They should not anchor in the bay and should refrain from breaking the winter ice, waiting instead for it to melt naturally.
Brünnich's guillemots
Fortunately, the sun is shining. Still, it’s quite cold outside, especially due to the wind. Instead of trying to spot narwhals, we are thoroughly enjoying the landscape. Thin mists give the bare mountains with their sharp peaks a mysterious touch. Glaciers slide between their slopes, and here and there, patches of snow seem to survive the summer. As we move eastward, the cloud cover thickens, the water becomes choppier, and the mountain tops become obscured. During dinner, an iceberg drifts by.
With their short wings, Brünnich's guillemots can dive up to 150 meters deep in search of prey
Northern fulmars are present as always, but this time it’s the Brünnich's guillemots that catch our attention. It’s not easy to distinguish them from other guillemots. Experts point out their thicker beak and the fine white line along the base of their beak as the main identifying features. You wouldn’t expect it of them, but with their short wings, they can dive up to 150 meters deep in search of prey. Yet, they seem to be unaffected by decompression sickness. How they manage that remains a mystery to science.
Brünnich's guillemot with prey
Tomorrow will be an archaeologically significant day, predicts our German geologist, Steffen, during the evening briefing. Through the broad Lancaster Sound we will be venturing deeper into the Canadian Arctic archipelago and we will be landing at Dundas Harbour, a bay on the southern side of Devon Island. After that, we will take a small zodiac cruise in Croker Bay.
Devon Island is the largest uninhabited island in the world. Uninhabited by humans, that is, as you can indeed encounter polar bears there
Devon Island is the largest uninhabited island in the world. Uninhabited by humans, that is, as you can indeed encounter polar bears there. Starting tomorrow, we will be in polar bear territory. Consequently, some guides will carry firearms on land to protect us.
Brünnich's guillemot
The potential threat of polar bears became apparent two days ago when the Fridtjof Nansen, another ship from Hurtigruten, was forced to cancel a landing due to a polar bear sighting. This is a rule that is strictly enforced – if a polar bear is nearby, landing is not permitted. We then will have to switch to plan B. Or plan C. Or… we will see.
Specifically, this means that scouts will first survey the landing area from the ship. Then, with a firearm slung over their shoulder, they will go to explore the site. This will take some time, likely about an hour, as they must check behind every rock and building. A polar bear can easily be overlooked, and if it takes off running, it can reach you in no time.
Winter dwelling of Inuit |
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Inuit woman with facial tattoos |
What can we expect to experience in Dundas Harbour? Well, Steffen informs us, there are remnants of a post from the RCMP, the Canadian Mounted Police. At Morin Point, a sharp land point, you can also find remains from the Thule, who likely inhabited the area between 1200 and 1600. They named the place Talluruti, meaning the chin of a woman with tattoos. Additionally, there is an unmarked but difficult-to-recognize grave of a young Inuk girl.
As for the weather conditions, Steffen can reassure us. The temperature will be between 1 and 3 °C (between 34 and 37 °F), and with a wind speed of 2 m/s, the wind chill factor won't differ much from that. So, it won’t be as cold as today. And let’s not forget, tonight we will set the clock back an hour, the fifth time since we boarded the Fram.
With Lancaster Sound on the horizon, we are seriously embarking on our Northwest Passage journey. We are now firmly following in the wake of the ill-fated expedition of John Franklin, an undertaking that captivated public opinion in Western Europe for many years. Not due to the expedition's great success, but because of the many mysteries surrounding it, some of which remain unsolved even today. Historian Benjamin will tell us how it all unfolded in his characteristic storytelling style.
For four centuries, explorers had got in vain their teeth into the Northwest Passage. In contrast, we will cover the route from Pond Inlet to Cambridge Bay in just seven days, so to speak with a cup of hot cocoa in hand
When John Franklin boarded the HMS Polyhemus at the age of twelve in 1800, the expedition of Henry Hudson was nearly two hundred years in the past, and John Cabot's even three hundred years earlier. However, it would still take another hundred years – spoiler alert – before Roald Amundsen would finally succeed in 1906. For four centuries, explorers had got in vain their teeth into the Northwest Passage. In contrast, we will cover the route from Pond Inlet to Cambridge Bay in just seven days, so to speak with a cup of hot cocoa in hand. There’s no denying it, this is a spectacular evolution.
Gaining experience was the main reason the young Franklin enlisted on the HMS Polyhemus, a heavy warship with 64 cannons. And experience he gained indeed. In 1801, he witnessed the Battle of Copenhagen, where the British, under the leadership of Horatio Nelson, decisively defeated the Danish-Norwegian fleet. In 1805, he saw the same Nelson repeat that bravura performance at Trafalgar against a Franco-Spanish squadron, effectively putting an end to Napoleon’s maritime ambitions.
Brünnich's guillemots
Franklin was doing well, Benjamin continued. He rose to the rank of lieutenant and participated in the war between the British and their former colony, America, in 1812. That was when luck began to turn against him for the first time. He was seriously injured and had to undergo a long recovery period. Was he tired of the battlefields? The fact is that his interest in exploration began to grow, and in 1819 he captained the HMS Trent to Svalbard.
The fact that the survivors at times lived on lichens and boiled the leather of their shoes for food has remained in the collective memory of the British
Meanwhile, mapping the land from Hudson Bay to the Coppermine River had become a high priority for the British Admiralty. Franklin accepted the challenge, but his expedition from 1819 to 1821 ended in disaster, largely due to a limited budget, poor planning, bad luck, unreliable allies, and extreme weather conditions. More than half of his crew perished. The fact that the survivors nearly starved and at times lived on lichens and boiled the leather of their shoes for food has remained in the collective memory of the British. Nonetheless, Franklin later became a commander in the Royal Navy. In 1823, he published a report on the expedition, which became a popular classic for the British public and an important source of inspiration for Roald Amundsen.
After a second, more successful expedition to the Mackenzie River, Franklin enjoyed a peaceful interlude of several years. He was knighted and became lieutenant governor of Van Diemen’s Land, now known as Tasmania. This pleased everyone, as evidenced by the statue erected in his honour in Hobart.
Barrow considered the fifty-nine-year-old Franklin too old for such challenges and, referencing his past, even deemed him incapable of organizing an expedition
But exploring was in his blood. Of Arctic Canada, only 180 000 km² had yet to be mapped – barely five percent. Just a little more effort, and that job would be done, Sir John Barrow must have thought. He was the one who regularly sent expeditions to the Arctic on behalf of the British Admiralty, and he knew what he was dealing with. When Franklin volunteered to lead the expedition, Barrow’s response was a firm no. He considered the fifty-nine-year-old Franklin too old for such challenges and, referencing his past, even deemed him incapable of organizing an expedition.
With a sense of irony, Benjamin now reviews the candidates who were consulted for the assignment one by one. Barrow’s first choice was William Edward Parry, but he declined the honour. His second choice was James Clark Ross, but he had promised his wife not to undertake such journeys again. His third choice was James Fitzjames, but the Admiralty considered him too young. His fourth choice was Francis Crozier, a man of humble origins, even an Irishman – imagine that. Completely unacceptable to the Admiralty.
In short, much to his chagrin, Barrow eventually entrusted the leadership of the expedition to John Franklin, his fifth choice. No one could have anticipated the lasting impact Franklin’s third and final expedition would have to this day.
The ships – HMS Erebus and HMS Terror – were equipped with the most modern features, and their bows were reinforced against the ice
The expedition of John Franklin (1845 – ?)
There was nothing to complain about regarding the ships – HMS Erebus and HMS Terror. They were equipped with the most modern features, and their bows were reinforced against the ice. Franklin himself became captain of the Erebus, with the young James Fitzjames as second in command. The Irishman Francis Crozier took command of the Terror. However, of the 134 crew members, only six had experience in the Arctic.
From the start, the food was problematic
From the start, the food was problematic. The order to supply eighteen thousand canned provisions was given only seven weeks before departure. Much too late to carry it out carefully and with the necessary quality checks. The cans were sealed with lead, as was common practice, but this was done rather carelessly, causing the lead to melt and seep inside. This later led to speculation that lead poisoning was partly responsible for the deaths of the crew members.
On May 19, 1845, the expedition finally set off. From Greenhithe on the Thames, they sailed to Stromness in the Orkney Islands. There, they were accompanied by a warship and a supply ship. Thirty days later, they arrived in West Greenland, where they stocked up on fresh meat. The letters the crew sent home at that time would be their last signs of life. Five men were found to be ill and were sent back to England on the accompanying ships, initially unaware of how fortunate they were to escape. The remaining 129 crew members continued their journey.
For two years, nothing was heard from them. The British Admiralty, however, remained confident
In late July, two whalers encountered the Erebus and the Terror in northern Baffin Bay. It seemed they were waiting for favourable conditions to enter Lancaster Sound. It would be the last time they were seen by Europeans. For two years, nothing was heard from them. The British Admiralty, however, remained confident. After all, this was a difficult mission, and it was not uncommon for an exploration voyage to last three or four years.
But Lady Jane Franklin did not sit idly by. She launched a public campaign and began lobbying politicians. Gossips recalled that she would lose her noble title if her husband were declared dead. Nevertheless, she gained public support. The Admiralty was summoned to Parliament and ordered to search for Franklin.
It was not until the spring of 1848 that the rescue operation began
Devon Island
It was not until the spring of 1848 that the rescue operation began. However, they approached it on a grand scale. James Clark Ross – presumably with his wife’s consent – was to lead the first expedition through Lancaster Sound, essentially following in Franklin’s footsteps. A second expedition, led by Henry Kellett, would approach from Alaska, coming toward Franklin from the west. There was also a third expedition under John Rae, who would follow the Mackenzie River northward under the – later proven correct – assumption that the expedition members may have gone ashore and headed south on foot. Additionally, the Admiralty offered a reward of £ 20 000 for any information regarding Franklin and his crew’s whereabouts. Unfortunately, none of the three expeditions succeeded.
Didn’t Rae understand that members of the Royal Navy would never stoop to that? That those savage Inuit themselves were the real cannibals?
The fate of the Franklin expedition continued to captivate the British public, leading to numerous publications and even a passionate ballad titled Lady Franklin's Lament for her Husband. In 1850, a new search was launched, involving no fewer than eleven ships. This time, there were results. They found the very first physical remnants of the expedition. Specifically, on Beechey Island – the place we will visit with the Fram the day after tomorrow – they discovered traces of the camp where the crew had overwintered in 1845-1846. Even more, they found the graves of three sailors there. But no message was found. Since then, Beechey Island has become an iconic site, inextricably linked with the Franklin expedition.
In April 1854, John Rae wasn’t even searching for Franklin when he noticed an Inuit man in Pelly Bay (now Kugaaruk) wearing a gold band like the ones seen on British officers’ hats. The man told him about 35 to 40 kabloonat – white men – who had died of hunger near the mouth of the Back River.
Other Inuit spoke of white men who had dragged a boat southward four winters earlier. When they returned to the site the following spring, they found the bodies of the men, showing signs of cannibalism. They also had silver forks and spoons that belonged to officers from the Franklin expedition.
In his report to the British Admiralty, Rae relayed this story and mentioned the cannibalism. When Lady Jane Franklin learned of this, the uproar began. Even Charles Dickens got involved. Didn’t Rae understand that members of the Royal Navy would never stoop to that? That those savage Inuit themselves were the real cannibals?
On March 1, 1855, nearly ten years after their departure, the crew members of both ships were officially declared dead, marking the end of the official search efforts. Yet again, Lady Jane Franklin didn’t give up. In a form of crowdfunding ahead of its time, she financed the steam schooner Fox under the leadership of McClintock for a new expedition in 1857.
At Victory Point, on the northwest corner of King William Island, they discovered a note in a cairn – the only written evidence left by Franklin’s expedition
Devon Island
And behold, a few more pieces of the puzzle emerged. On King William Island, they found a sledge with two bodies and a large amount of equipment. At Victory Point, on the northwest corner of King William Island, they discovered a note in a cairn – the only written evidence left by Franklin’s expedition. It revealed that Francis Crozier and James Fitzjames, along with the survivors, were heading south toward the North American mainland.
The note also stated that Sir John Franklin had died on June 11, 1847, a piece of news that was met with joy in England. This meant Franklin had died aboard his ship and could not have been involved in any cannibalism. The romanticizing of his exploits could now begin.
Even into the 20th and 21st centuries, Franklin’s fate continued to stir emotions. In 1984, Owen Beattie, a forensic anthropologist from the University of Alberta, began a new search in cooperation with local Inuit, hoping modern scientific research could shed new light on the case. They recovered new human remains and exhumed the bodies from the three graves on Beechey Island. The conclusion? Pneumonia and tuberculosis were the primary causes of death, but lead poisoning and a vitamin C deficiency may have worsened these conditions. Additionally, there were undeniable signs of cannibalism.
Pneumonia and tuberculosis were the primary causes of death, but lead poisoning and a vitamin C deficiency may have worsened these conditions
Listening more to the Inuit began to yield results. In September 2014, the wreck of the Erebus was found near O’Reilly Island, precisely at the location pointed out half a century earlier by Inukpujijuk, a local Inuit. The Erebus was discovered 11 meters underwater and was nearly intact. Two years later, in September 2016, the wreck of the Terror was found in a bay on the southern coast of King William Island, again based on a tip from a local Inuit, Sammy Kogvik.
What do we know now about the Franklin expedition? After their first winter on Beechey Island, they sailed south through Peel Sound, but became trapped in the ice of Victoria Strait, northwest of King William Island. They were forced to spend another winter there. As the ice failed to thaw during the summer of 1847, they had to endure yet another winter in the same place. In April 1848, they decided to trek on foot to the mouth of the Back River. By that time, they had been on their journey for three years, and 24 crew members had died, including their captain, John Franklin. Some chose to remain aboard the Erebus, but most embarked on the gruelling 400-kilometer march. In the end, none survived. However, reports of encounters between local Inuit and kabloonat or white men continued to surface as late as the winter of 1851-1852.
We now know that the ice in Victoria Strait, west of King William Island, doesn’t thaw enough each year to allow ships to pass, while on the east side, it often does
Devon Island
It was only logical that the Franklin expedition sought a passage west of King William Island. If you’re searching for the Northwest Passage, you sail westward, you don’t sail eastward. Furthermore, the island covers an area of 13 174 km². If you sail along the east side of the island, you face a journey of roughly a thousand kilometres. Sailing along the west side, however, is only about three hundred kilometres – quite a significant difference. However, we now know that the ice in Victoria Strait, west of King William Island, doesn’t thaw enough each year to allow ships to pass, while on the east side, it often does. For that reason, Amundsen wisely chose the longer route east of King William Island, just as our Fram will do next week.
That the Franklin expedition failed is beyond doubt. But its failure was at the same time its greatest success
That the Franklin expedition failed is beyond doubt. But its failure was at the same time its greatest success. The many expeditions that later went in search of the unfortunate crew mapped more territory than Franklin himself could have achieved had he returned safely. In this way, the groundwork was laid for the eventual opening of the Northwest Passage. Still, it took another half-century until Roald Amundsen completed the task in 1906. But that’s a story for Benjamin’s next tale.
Jaak Palmans
© 2024 | Version 2024-09-17 14:00
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There is no such thing as bad luck
(kr) Credit: Kim Rørmark
(ks) Credit: Kevin Snair
