What is the problem anyway?

Canada | Anno 2023

 

Monday, August 28 | Bellot Strait – Coningham Bay

Tuesday, August 29 | James Ross Strait

Wednesday, August 30 | Gjøa Havn – Simpson Strait

Thursday, August 31 | Cambridge Bay – Montréal

 

 

Monday, August 28 | Bellot Strait – Coningham Bay

Six o'clock. It's getting exciting now. Sailing into the Bellot Strait is quite a delicate manoeuver. This strait is very narrow; at its narrowest point, it is no wider than seven hundred meters. When the tidal current is forced through this narrow passage, it reaches very high speeds – up to 8 knots or 15 km/h. That’s definitely something to consider when your cruising speed is 12 knots.

Simply bending nature to their will for a moment, that’s the strategy

Bellot Strait

But experienced navigation officers know how to handle that. Simply bending nature to their will for a moment, that’s the strategy. Because at high tide, seawater flows in, and at low tide, it flows out in the opposite direction. So, there’s a tipping point when the tidal current changes direction. At that moment, the net speed of the water is zero. The tide table tells us that this will happen at 7:51 a.m. this morning. That’s exactly the best time to navigate through Bellot Strait. So, for now, it’s just a matter of waiting.

Army Captain Stanwell-Fletcher thus made the first parachute jump north of the Arctic Circle

On the foredeck, curious onlookers gather. The weather looks beautiful, with a clear blue sky, a calm sea, and unlimited visibility. Only the icy cold wind is a bit of a nuisance. To starboard lie a handful of small islands around Fort Ross, a former trading post of the Hudson’s Bay Company. In September 1937, five days were enough to erect four buildings here – a house for the post manager, a power plant, a warehouse, and a store. However, the post would not be a success. Sea ice was a constant disruptor, making the trading post too often inaccessible.

 

Bellot Strait

It became even more tense when the annual resupply missions in 1942 and 1943 each ended in failure. The food supplies at the trading post had significantly dwindled, and the yield from hunting was no longer sufficient. A rescue operation was organized, but Canada no longer had aircraft available – they were busy fighting the Germans and the Japanese.

So, they called for help from big brother, the USA. On November 4, a Douglas C‑47 Skytrain initiated the rescue. It dropped not only some supplies but also Army Captain Stanwell-Fletcher, who thus made the first parachute jump north of the Arctic Circle. His task was to create a suitable landing site for the airplane. And he did so brilliantly. Just three days later, the Skytrain was able to land on a frozen lake, sixteen kilometres from the trading post, and successfully evacuate the three unfortunate staff members. Since then, the largest lake on Somerset Island has been named Lake Stanwell-Fletcher, a tribute to the captain's daring feat.

The rock layers often stand nearly vertically beside each other, like cards in a filing cabinet

Bellot Strait

Still, it would take until 1948 before reality was faced. Today, only the manager's house and the store remain standing. The latter has been renovated and is still used as a shelter, particularly by Inuit when they hunt caribou.

Twenty to eight. Almost silently, the Fram begins to move. Compared to what we’ve seen before, the mountains on the shores are relatively low – 450 meters on the north side, 750 meters on the south side. It's immediately clear that their formation involved significant geological turmoil. There are no neat horizontal layers here, but rather jagged, seemingly disjointed structures in a broad colour palette ranging from ochre yellow to bluish-grey. The rock layers often stand nearly vertically beside each other, like cards in a filing cabinet. Here and there, small islands pop up, often barely a meter or two above the water, yet still posing a real risk to navigation.

 

Bellot Strait

Meanwhile, the icy wind torments the onlookers on the foredeck. The airflow grows colder and colder, as the narrow channel acts as a perfect wind tunnel, allowing the polar air to rush through unhindered from west to east. You have to grit your teeth a bit if you want to fully enjoy the spectacle from the outer deck.

 

Polar bears

The explorers who tried to explore this strait must have experienced the same. That the Frenchman Joseph René Bellot was the first to explore Bellot Strait in 1852 is no surprise. However, he didn’t do so by ship but with a dog sled. It wasn’t until 1937 that a certain Scotty Gall succeeded in navigating a Hudson's Bay Company ship from west to east through this narrow strait.

However, it seems to be a mother lying on her back in a playful pose with a standing cub

A polar bear is spotted on one of the slopes. A little later, it turns out to be a pair. They are far, very far, and difficult to see. However, it seems to be a mother lying on her back in a playful pose with a standing cub.

 

Zenith Point

If we were to land on the southern shore, we could, so to speak, walk to Mexico. This area to our left is part of the Boothia Peninsula, which belongs to the North American mainland. The northern shore, on the other hand, is part of an island. Quite a large island, in fact, as Somerset Island’s area is about four-fifths the size of Belgium. It’s as if a giant once wielded a massive knife and made a sharp, straight cut through the land, for Bellot Strait forms the division between Somerset Island and the mainland.

Zenith Point, they’ve named the northernmost point of the American continent, a tiny promontory on the southern shore exactly at 72° N

Zenith Point

Moreover, the northernmost point of the American continent is located here. They’ve named the spot Zenith Point, a tiny promontory on the southern shore exactly at 72° N. To draw attention to it, they’ve erected a modest cairn. For comparison, Point Barrow, the northernmost point of Alaska, is at 71° 23’, and Norway’s Nordkapp is at 71° 10’. Only Russia does better. Much better, because Cape Chelyuskin reaches 77° 43’.

The two muskoxen grazing high on the slopes of Somerset Island have also been reduced to blurry black spots

Muskoxen

A bright white spot with a hazy edge amidst large grey boulders – that must be a polar bear. Its rounded back removes any doubt about its intentions – it’s taking a nap and has no interest in showing itself to us. Other physical features are barely distinguishable from this distance. The two muskoxen grazing high on the slopes of Somerset Island have also been reduced to blurry black spots.

 

Bellot Strait

More and more mist clings to the low hilltops. Gradually, both shores are enveloped in a faint fog. The sun is nowhere to be seen, the hills turn into dark silhouettes, and the surroundings take on a ghostly feel. Then, the dark outline of Halfway Island appears. As its name suggests, this island is located roughly halfway through Bellot Strait. It is a barren, unattractive mass of rock that neither animals nor plants are drawn to.

 

Halfway Island

But the idea that there would be no life in this narrow waterway is completely contradicted by a sudden, powerful spout. For just a brief moment, it appears above the water, long enough to identify it. Then it dives back under and continues its journey eastward. Experts have no doubt. The giant that crossed our path for a few seconds is a bowhead whale. You could tell by the characteristic shape of the blowholes and the absence of a dorsal fin.

The narrow channel acts as a perfect wind tunnel, allowing the polar air to rush through unhindered from west to east

Bellot Strait

With a maximum length of about eighteen meters, the bowhead whale is only a medium-sized whale – the blue whale can grow nearly twice as long. Yet it holds some impressive records. For instance, its mouth makes up one-third of its body length, giving it the largest mouth in the animal kingdom – you could park a Mercedes Sprinter van inside it. In that enormous mouth hang, naturally, enormous baleen plates. They can reach up to four meters long, longer than in any other whale species. With those baleen plates, it scrapes together 1,8 tons of food every day. And if its natural enemies – namely orcas and whalers – don’t catch it, it can live up to 200 years. No other mammal can match that.

The bowhead whale has the largest mouth in the animal kingdom – you could park a Mercedes Sprinter van inside it

Bowhead whale

If it feels threatened, a bowhead whale will seek shallow waters or, preferably, swim under the pack ice. Orcas won’t follow there because they need to surface regularly to breathe. For a bowhead whale, that’s not a problem. It has no dorsal fin to hinder it, and with its enormous head, it can break through ice up to sixty centimetres thick – presumably without getting a headache.

With its enormous head, a bowhead whale can break through ice up to sixty centimetres thick – presumably without getting a headache

Bellot Strait

For the indigenous people, the bowhead whale has always been the favoured prey. Archaeological finds suggest that its meat was likely consumed as early as 4 000 BCE. It’s astounding to think that the Inuit and their predecessors managed to hunt such giants in their fragile kayaks.

The sun is nowhere to be seen, the hills turn into dark silhouettes, and the surroundings take on a ghostly feel

Bellot Strait

The fact that a bowhead whale, unlike some other whale species, floats after death is crucial for successfully hauling the carcass ashore. Without delay, the hunters, with sixty to seventy men, work as quickly as possible to harvest the meat. If it takes too long, the whale’s body heat could cause the ice to melt, risking a collapse into the water.

One hundred bowhead whales – that’s the annual quota set by the International Whaling Commission. No more are allowed to be killed. And even then, only for the subsistence of indigenous peoples. Commercial hunting is strictly prohibited.

 

Bellot Strait

The wind blows increasingly colder over the outer deck, forcing us to put on an extra sweater. Shortly after nine, we reach Franklin Strait at the western entrance of Bellot Strait. The weather becomes somewhat milder now, with less wind and a slightly warmer feel. An hour later, the fog has completely disappeared, and visibility is almost unlimited. However, there is no sign of the sun. A grey blanket of clouds hangs low above our heads.

The wind blows increasingly colder over the outer deck

Bellot Strait

From here, it is about 370 kilometres due south to Gjøa Havn, the iconic place where Roald Amundsen spent two consecutive winters. But that’s for tomorrow. First, we’ll cross Franklin Strait to visit Coningham Bay on the southeast coast of Prince of Wales Island.

We know for certain that drumlins were formed by a glacier that flowed in the indicated direction. But how exactly that process worked is still a mystery

That island, as expedition leader Maria explained to us last night during the evening briefing, has a very remarkable structure. From ground level, it’s barely visible, but a satellite photo shows the phenomenon clearly. We look down on what seems like a procession of elongated, oval shapes. At the front, they are narrow and pointed, while at the back, they widen. It’s as if their arrow-shaped structures are showing us the path they follow – first northward, then in a broad curve northwestward. Some people describe this natural phenomenon as a landscape of half-buried giant eggs.

Those are drumlins, Maria explains. We know for certain that they were formed by a glacier that flowed in the indicated direction. But how exactly that process worked is still a mystery. Sometimes the drumlins contain clay, silt, sand, gravel, and stones, which suggests they were deposited as sediment by the glacier. But sometimes they are made of granite or hardened limestone, which contradicts this hypothesis. What is certain is that this glacier merged with another one, eventually creating the Viscount Melville Sound, a vast body of water that extends from Lancaster Sound, where we were a few days ago.

Belugas like to come to these shallow waters to work on their body hygiene by rubbing their skin against the seabed

Coningham Bay

Gradually, the sun breaks through and clears away the clouds. Under a radiant blue sky, we sail toward Prince of Wales Island. Just before two o’clock, we arrive at Coningham Bay. Somewhat disappointed, we look out over Prince of Wales Island, which appears as flat as a pancake. There is no sign of any relief, let alone drumlins.

However, what can be experienced in Coningham Bay is of a completely different nature. Belugas like to come to these shallow waters to work on their body hygiene by rubbing their skin against the seabed. The slightly warmer water and lower salt content make this more effective. And where belugas frequently appear, polar bears are never far away. They often come to check if there's a tasty meal to be had.

Polar bears often come to check if there's a tasty meal to be had

Coningham Bay

It’s going to be a bumpy ride, zodiac driver Katrin predicts calmly as we depart from the Fram shortly after four. Under no circumstances should we stand up in the zodiac, she adds. The sun is shining, there’s light cloud cover, but the sky is mostly blue. The temperature is a not-too-uncomfortable 5 °C (41 °F), and the wind is blowing at 6 m/s. That’s enough to create a choppy swell in the shallow bay.

A narrow passage connects Coningham Bay to a small inlet. That’s where the belugas, and thus the polar bears, tend to hang out. As we approach the narrowing, we slow down and navigate carefully, as the water is very shallow and the motor’s propeller could be damaged if it hits the bottom.

On the nearby beach, we see the aftermath of beluga hunts – bleached skulls and spines

Cape Eyre – Bleached skulls and spines of belugas

Archaeologist Emma lies flat on her stomach at the front of the zodiac, peering intently into the water. With mixed success, she directs us between the sandbanks. Some channels lead to dead ends, forcing us to reverse and search for an alternative. Fortunately, the seabed here is sandy, so the motor doesn’t get damaged.

There are even known cases where hundreds of belugas panicked, leading to an underwater stampede

We are not allowed to sail beyond this bottleneck to avoid disturbing the animals in their habitat. We know this from marine biologist and oceanographer Colin. The noise from our zodiac motors could interfere with the belugas' communication. There are even known cases where hundreds of belugas panicked, leading to an underwater stampede.

 

Cape Eyre – Polar bear

But it was not in vain to come this far. On the nearby beach, we see the aftermath of beluga hunts – bleached skulls and spines. Moreover, it’s not just polar bears that have it in for the belugas. Inuit also regularly come to this inlet to take advantage of them. Someone should really warn the belugas about the risks they face when they show up in this inlet.

 

Cape Eyre – Polar bears

Further along the shore of Cape Eyre, about five hundred meters away, we see three polar bears wandering along the beach. Sniffing around on the ground, they seem to be eating some grass. It’s not very nutritious, but their round bodies look well-fed. Perhaps they’ve already had their main meal, and the grass aids their digestion. Earlier, the very first zodiacs even spotted a polar bear that was bending over a beluga carcass.

Earlier, the very first zodiacs even spotted a polar bear that was bending over a beluga carcass

Cape Eyre – Polar bear with carcass of beluga (ks)

Just before half-past five, the Fram starts to move. To starboard, Dixon Island slowly slides by as we sail south through Franklin Strait – a journey of over two hundred nautical miles that will only take us to Gjøa Havn the day after tomorrow.

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Tuesday, August 29 | James Ross Strait

A dense fog envelops the Fram upon awakening. The pale sun hides behind the mist like a white disk. There is hardly any wind, and the inky-black surface of the sea is almost as flat as a mirror. On the outer deck we have to be careful, because the puddles on the foredeck are partly frozen and therefore extremely slippery. Even the local fauna is absent. No spouts or ripples in the water, no birds gracefully circling above our wake.

No spouts or ripples in the water, no birds gracefully circling above our wake

James Ross Strait, 7:20 a.m.

The Fram has been sailing all night, so Larsen Sound is already behind us. At a leisurely speed of six knots, we now carefully enter the James Ross Strait, the waterway to the east of King William Island. In doing so, we are following in the footsteps of Roald Amundsen, but not those of John Franklin. For Franklin attempted to realize the Northwest Passage via Victoria Strait, the waterway to the west of King William Island.

By sailing to the east of King William Island, Amundsen imposed a detour of several hundred kilometres on himself. But he knew what he was doing. The pack ice in Victoria Strait does not melt enough each year to provide ships with a clear passage, while that is indeed the case in James Ross Strait.

Determining your latitude was not a problem. Determining your longitude, on the other hand, was a different matter

We will be sailing south all day. A few engaging lectures provide some variety in the monotony. After all, today will be a sea day, our German geologist Steffen jokes, but not a see day – a day at sea, yes, but not a day on which you get to see much. All the more reason for Steffen to clarify the principles of navigation. Because we might not realize it anymore, but once upon a time, fog was a very significant problem for ships exploring new territories.

In the past, navigation was done by sight. Initially, this was a very primitive concept. You had a periplus, a handbook that listed what could be seen along the coast – bays, hills, river mouths, headlands, cities, ports, etc. As long as you followed the coast and visibility was excellent, this system would reliably guide you to your destination.

Later, maps were published, allowing people to venture further out to sea. But accurate position determination remained an impossible task. Determining your latitude was not a problem. You simply measured the height of the sun above the horizon at noon and compared the result with the data in your tables. Gradually, excellent measuring instruments became available, such as sextants and astrolabes.

Once upon a time, fog was a very significant problem for ships exploring new territories

James Ross Strait, 9:16 a.m.

Pfeilstorch (‘Arrow stork’)

Determining your longitude was a different matter. In fact, you had to be able to measure time very accurately for that. When the sun is at its highest point for you, you know it’s noon. If you know exactly what time it is in Greenwich at that moment, you can calculate your longitude from the time difference. The Earth rotates one degree around its axis every four minutes. If the time difference between Greenwich and your position is two hours, then you are at 30° from the prime meridian of Greenwich.

But sufficiently accurate clocks did not exist. It wasn’t until the mid-18th century that this changed. Even then, the British were initially hesitant to use their clocks, fearing that these precision instruments would fall into the hands of their arch-enemy, Spain.

The Pfeilstorch was found in 1822 in Klütz, Germany, with an arrow in its neck. The arrow came from… Central Africa

This led to the bizarre and time-consuming concept of travelling via latitude lines. For instance, if you wanted to sail from Recife in Brazil to Cape Town in South Africa, that would be a straight distance of 6 150 km. However, following such a route was not possible because navigation was not sufficiently reliable. So, you first sailed south until you reached 34° S, the latitude of Cape Town. From that point on, you would follow that latitude eastward until land was in sight. In total, you would have covered 9 900 km, an enormous distance for that time. Moreover, it’s no surprise that pirate ships were also aware of this system and would lie in wait for vessels carrying valuable cargo along that 34th latitude.

Today, of course, that is a thing of the past. Radio navigation with a beacon, radar navigation to see obstacles in time, satellite navigation via GPS to find the right path… Technological evolution has made navigation a very reliable affair. Are traditional maps then obsolete on a journey like this? Not at all, Steffen argues. They are still essential for understanding the depth profiles of the many bays and inlets.

By sailing to the east of King William Island, Amundsen imposed a detour of several hundred kilometres on himself. But he knew what he was doing

 

Over time, visibility has improved. When at noon Captain Sverre's familiar voice echoes through the PA system, the fog has completely vanished. With Boothia Peninsula on the port side, we are still sailing south. One hundred twenty-five nautical miles behind us, he says, and one hundred five nautical miles ahead before we reach Gjøa Havn tomorrow morning. It cannot be ruled out that the wind will increase in strength tomorrow. Therefore, the captain concludes his daily talk, we won’t need our sunscreen for the next few hours.

We won’t need our sunscreen for the next few hours, the captain concludes

After lunch, the sun occasionally breaks through the clouds, enough to colour the water azure blue at times. The Fram glides smoothly over the mirror-like surface of the water at five to six knots. Animals still do not show themselves or make themselves heard, except for a rare seal. Not a single bird in our wake, it remains a strange feeling.

How animals in the Arctic manage to survive is something Vivi, our Finnish conservation biologist, has much to say about. With a photo of a Pfeilstorch, a stuffed stork with an arrow in its neck, she immediately captures our attention. This bird was found in 1822 in Klütz, Germany, with an arrow from… Central Africa. It was the first evidence that birds migrate south. Before that, no one could explain why storks and barn swallows suddenly disappeared every year.

Migration is indeed the answer most birds give to the question of what to do when it gets too cold. But there are other ways to cope with extreme cold, according to Vivi. Hibernation, for example, is a familiar concept to us, but it is much more complex than we assume. Essentially, hibernation is a state that lowers body temperature and slows metabolism. This way, the animal can survive the long winter period when food is scarce, using as little energy as possible. A polar bear then does not eat, and does not urinate or defecate.

A polar bear must occasionally wake from its torpor to… sleep and dream

However, during its hibernation, the polar bear regularly goes into torpor, a state in which the entire body becomes stiff as if paralyzed. Vivi hasn’t tested this herself, but if you tried to wake a polar bear in torpor, you wouldn’t succeed. On the other hand, a polar bear needs its sleep and the associated dreaming periods. This leads to the strange observation that a polar bear must occasionally wake from its torpor to… sleep and dream.

Lemmings, on the other hand, don’t need any of this. Due to their small size, they thrive excellently in the subnivean climate, the thin layer of air that forms between a thick layer of snow and the ground. This snow layer not only provides insulation against the cold but also protection against predators. Once the snow layer is at least fifteen centimetres thick, lemmings can expect a relatively constant temperature of 0 °C (32 °F).

 

Boothia Peninsula

Just imagine trying to breathe at temperatures between –50 °C and –70 °C (–58 °F and –94 °F) while still maintaining your body temperature. Caribou have complex structures in their nasal cavities that ensure the inhaled air is humidified and pre-warmed.

Dressing warmly against the cold is where muskoxen excel. The long, stiff hairs of their coats reach almost down to their hooves, trapping air like an insulating layer around their bodies. However, it's the soft undercoat, the famous qiviut, that captures the imagination most – stronger and warmer than sheep wool, and softer than cashmere. The pupils of a muskox are not round openings but narrow slits, allowing for a wide field of vision without letting in too much light, which could cause snow blindness.

Even a rock ptarmigan knows how to dress against the cold, as it has feathers on its legs.

At the poles, evolution is much slower than in the tropics, simply because generations do not succeed each other as quickly

Marine mammals, of course, cannot rely on fur. They depend on a thick layer of blubber to keep warm in the icy waters. In a bowhead whale, this blubber can be fifty to seventy centimetres thick.

Of course, natural evolution has also played its part, Vivi concludes. However, at the poles, this process is much slower than in the tropics, simply because generations do not succeed each other as quickly. For example, there are usually about three years between two litters in polar bears. Nevertheless, evolution has enabled animals in cold climates to have fewer large protrusions – everyone knows that fingers, toes, noses, and ears suffer most from the cold. They also have a larger body mass relative to their surface area, making them less susceptible to cold. Additionally, they have more muscle and therefore more brown fat tissue where they can store energy.

 

Boothia Peninsula

Half past eight. Tomorrow morning we will arrive in Gjøa Havn, as we learn during the evening briefing. It is an Inuit settlement on the southeast coast of King William Island. The local Nattilik people call their town Uqsuqtuuq, which means lots of fat – a reference to the numerous seals that used to frequent the area.

For Amundsen, the Northwest Passage was primarily a stepping stone and a learning ground to eventually achieve his greatest ambition – to be the first to reach both the North and South Poles

However, this is not the reason Gjøa Havn is famous for. It was Roald Amundsen who put the place on the map by landing there in 1903 and overwintering for two consecutive years. During that time, he would map the movement of the geomagnetic pole, but more importantly, he would learn the lifestyle and survival techniques of the Nattilik. For Amundsen, the Northwest Passage was primarily a stepping stone and a learning ground to eventually achieve his greatest ambition – to be the first to reach both the North and South Poles.

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Wednesday, August 30 | Gjøa Havn – Simpson Strait

A quarter to seven. Gjøa Havn is right on schedule. We look out over the small settlement on the gently sloping southeast coast of King William Island, a collection of wooden houses dotted with the occasional larger building, telecommunications mast or satellite dish. In the distance, we see a radar installation from the Distant Early Warning Line, a system set up to detect a possible Soviet attack via the North Pole in time. The sky is grey, but it is not raining. The temperature is 5 °C (41 °F), there is a light wind, and visibility is unlimited.

 

Gjøa Havn was everything our hearts could desire, small and almost completely sheltered from the sea, Amundsen later wrote in The Geographical Journal

Gjøa Havn

Gjøa Havn was everything our hearts could desire, small and almost completely sheltered from the sea, Amundsen later wrote in The Geographical Journal. They arrived on September 9, 1903, but had to wait until September 12 for the land winds to calm enough to anchor. It may seem strange, but we had found the most suitable place to set up our measuring station – about one hundred nautical miles from the geomagnetic North Pole, he went on.

 

Gjøa Havn

Exciting, but also somewhat amusing, is the way he describes their first encounter with the indigenous population. That occurred only on October 29. By October 1, the ice had begun to form at sea. Meanwhile, Amundsen and his crew had built a dwelling and four observatories, including Uranienborg, the astronomical observatory they were so proud of. The Inuit must have found it strange – why so many houses? Isn’t one winter house sufficient for seven people?

Exciting, but also somewhat amusing, is the way Amundsen describes their first encounter with the indigenous population

Nattilik hunters with fishing spears (ra)

From Sir John Ross's travel account, Amundsen had remembered that Teima! was the customary greeting between white people and the Inuit. So when five Inuit approached their camp, he eagerly went to meet them, albeit with two heavily armed companions three paces behind me. They had rifles slung over their shoulders and wore expressions so fierce that even a warlike regiment would have fled, let alone these five unfortunate Eskimos.

 

An Inuit family aboard the Gjøa (ra)

At a distance of about a hundred paces, the Inuit stopped. Teima! Amundsen shouted as loud as he could. This had no effect on the Inuit. They briefly conferred among themselves and then began to approach again. There were five of them, they had formed a kind of battle line and were now approaching us, smiling and humming. Two of them carried a bow on their back, the other three were apparently unarmed. Teima, teima! Amundsen kept calling, until the Inuit came with their answer – Manik-tu-mi they shouted. Finally they stood facing each other.

The Eskimos patted and caressed us both in front and behind while shouting manik-tu-mi as loud as they could

Kabdoka (ra)

Greenlandic Inuit aboard the Gjøa (ra)

It was a very remarkable meeting, Amundsen writes. The Eskimos patted and caressed us both in front and behind while shouting manik-tu-mi as loud as they could. As we had previously agreed, we copied their behaviour and began to shout and roar to the best of our ability, patting and giving each other shoulder pats.

 

Magito (ra)

The Gjøa at anchor in Gjøa Havn (ra)

Fortunately, our meeting with the inhabitants of Gjøa Havn is a bit more streamlined. The zodiacs quickly drop us on the sandy beach. Our guide is called Eli, she will lead us through her hometown in a quiet voice.

All twenty thousand residents of Yellowknife had to leave their city in a hurry

Gjøa Havn

Gjøa Havn has just over a thousand inhabitants, she tells us. The settlement has a modest medical facility, but for serious issues, one must go to Yellowknife, the capital of the Northwest Territories, located just over a thousand kilometres away. At least, that was the case until recently. On August 17, an evacuation order was issued, forcing all twenty thousand residents of Yellowknife to leave their city in a hurry. The wildfires advanced too quickly, and contrary to expectations, the government could no longer guarantee the safety of its citizens. Later, we will learn that this evacuation order was lifted on September 20, and the population was able to return.

A white tank truck crosses our path. It turns out to be the honey wagon

Honeywagon

A white tank truck crosses our path. It turns out to be the honey wagon, an ironic euphemism for the sewage truck that removes the wastewater from the kitchens, bathrooms, and toilets of the homes. After all, laying sewage systems in permafrost is impossible. Each home, therefore, has a connection where the honey wagon can attach a hose to suck up the wastewater. The truck got its nickname because when it unloads its cargo, the substance resembles the colour of honey.

 

Heritage Centre

In the Heritage Centre, we must take off our boots. Artefacts from the Nattilik, the local Inuit, fill the display cases. There are also testimonies collected about the daily life of the indigenous people and their interactions with western explorers.

A marriage was primarily an arranged union between a hunter and a seamstress

Drum dancer

Survival was everything for the Nattilik. A marriage was primarily an arranged union between a hunter and a seamstress. Together, they formed an economic entity that essentially provided sufficient survival opportunities for a small family. Hunters provided food and shelter, while seamstresses made waterproof clothing, kayaks, and umiaks.

Infanticide was a common practice

Infanticide was a common practice. Newborns were sometimes left to their fate in the harsh cold. A family could not be too large, as there wouldn’t be enough food for everyone. One of my sisters who is still alive, testified Martha Tunnuq, would also be abandoned by my mother to die – but I wanted a sister. Even though I was very scared... I asked if we could keep her. Martha’s sister survived.

Geronticide also occurred. When elders became a burden to the community and natural death did not come, they were left on an ice floe during long winter marches to die. A French explorer noted how a son deliberately abandoned his mother during a snowstorm.

A French explorer noted how a son deliberately abandoned his mother during a snowstorm

Amundsen was aware of two deaths during his stay. In both cases, they were suicides. He noted that this was socially accepted, but only if it was due to unbearable suffering from an illness.

 

Inuit couple travelling with all their belongings

Skulls of members of the Franklin Expedition

The testimonies that show us the exploits of European explorers from the perspective of the Inuit are particularly interesting. When there were still no qallunaat [white people], a group of hunters was in the vicinity of Thom Bay, Bibian Neeveeovak testifies. One hunter wandered away from the group and... encountered the qallunaat [from the Ross expedition, 1830]. He was terrified because he had never seen such people before. He ran so fast that the tail of his parka was flapping behind him. He told everyone that these were truly different people with long necks and long faces. He frightened everyone.

He ran so fast that the tail of his parka was flapping behind him

I have never seen Franklin people alive, Tuktukchiak remembers, but I found skeletons and a body. They all looked thin, starving, and sick, Alanak states; they were black around the eyes and mouth and wore no animal skin clothing. Some Inuit tried to help these white people [from Franklin's crew, 1845], Tommy Anguttitauruq recounts. They really did not look well, but they refused help. They started clawing and bursting into screams.

 

Pink-footed geese

It is remarkable how only the very greatest – Fridtjof Nansen and Roald Amundsen – were able to establish friendly relationships based on equality with the indigenous peoples. John Franklin, on the other hand, was content if he could recruit an indigenous guide and an indigenous interpreter. The rest he would handle himself.

They were black around the eyes and mouth and wore no animal skin clothing

Gjøa Havn

This is also evident from the testimony of David Aglukkaq. Amundsen and his people were generous, and although many Inuit stole from them, they did not get angry... The Inuit were probably quite a nuisance, but he still helped them, even the thieves among them. Even today, there is no one like Amundsen – his kindness, his generosity.

 

Roald Amundsen

Flags of Nunavut, Canada and Gjøa Havn

We put our boots back on and stroll past the Church of the Sacred Heart of Mary, a Catholic church, according to Eli, where services are held every Wednesday and Sunday. Three flags flutter in front of the George W Porter Centre – the flags of Nunavut, Canada, and Gjøa Havn. The building serves as a sort of town hall. In the lobby, a famous bust of Roald Amundsen stands at the centre. Against the walls hang trident spears traditionally used to catch salmon, along with some whale baleens.

Occasionally, a polar bear visits Gjøa Havn in the winter, but it is promptly chased away

Church of the Sacred Heart of Mary

The richest fishing grounds are quite a distance from here – five to six hours by kayak, according to Eli. Occasionally, a polar bear visits Gjøa Havn in the winter, but it is promptly chased away. However, the community has permission to kill one bear and one cub each year.

It wouldn't surprise us if Scottish genes could be found in the Nattilik genome

Community Centre

At the Community Centre, they are waiting for us, just like in Pond Inlet, with some performances planned. We are treated to caribou soup, fish soup, and bannock with raisins. A bit odd, since bannock is a typical Scottish bread.

 

Drum dance

Then the spectacle begins. A small choir of three women accompanies the drum dances of two men and a boy. The most impressive performance is the throat singing by two women, the best vocal display we’ve heard so far.

 

Throat singing

Drum dance

But it's the grand finale that surprises us the most. The atmosphere immediately livens up with the upbeat rhythm of live music from two electric guitars, a violin, and a drum set. Four men and four women take over the dance floor for a square dance. While the execution could be improved, it's the enthusiasm and the broad smiles of the Inuit that make an impression. Dancing seems to be their passion. Their unwavering optimism is contagious.

Four men and four women take over the dance floor for a square dance

Square dance

A square dance isn’t exactly what you'd expect in Nunavut. This remarkable tradition dates back to the 18th century when Scottish whalers were forced to overwinter here. Apparently, relations with the local population were excellent, as during the long, dark days, they taught the Nattilik how to square dance. And how to bake bannock. It wouldn't surprise us if Scottish genes could be found in the Nattilik genome.

For Amundsen and his team, this was a true ordeal at the time. Ice drifted everywhere, and dense fog severely limited visibility

Just before midnight, the Fram sets sail again. This is our very last voyage – a journey of nearly four hundred kilometres to Cambridge Bay, our final destination. Two hours later, we enter Simpson Strait, a shallow waterway dotted with small islands. For Amundsen and his team, this was a true ordeal at the time. Ice drifted everywhere, and dense fog severely limited visibility. Constant vigilance was necessary, and for four days, Amundsen didn’t dare sleep.

 

Simpson Strait

We, on the other hand, glide smoothly at 14 knots over the silvery water. Visibility is unlimited, with no ice or snow in sight, and it’s not even cold. We could almost stand on the outer deck in our shirtsleeves if it weren’t for the fierce wind howling across the ship. So, what is the problem anyway? Why was it so difficult for the explorers to complete this final leg of the Northwest Passage?

Just last year, two expedition ships got stuck in the ice and had to turn back without accomplishing their mission

Such questions reflect both arrogance and ignorance. Tomorrow, Angela will welcome us in Cambridge Bay. Congratulations, she will say, congratulations on reaching Cambridge Bay. She’ll add that the waterway to the settlement is ice-free for only about ten days a year. Just last year, two expedition ships got stuck in the ice and had to turn back without accomplishing their mission.

 

Simpson Strait

But the explorers over the past centuries were also hindered by the climate. If you wanted to explore the Arctic, you couldn't have chosen a worse time than the period from the 16th to the 19th century. The Northern Hemisphere was in the grip of the Little Ice Age, with temperatures averaging one to two degrees lower than normal. That might seem like a small difference, but the impact was significant. For example, in 1658, the Swedish army surprised the Danes by marching on foot over the ice to Copenhagen. Given those conditions, it’s no wonder that Hudson, Franklin, and many others failed to navigate the Northwest Passage.

Inuit keep a close watch to prevent adventurers or treasure hunters from plundering the wrecks of the Terror and the Erebus

Of course, climate change also plays a role. In an era of retreating glaciers and melting ice caps, it’s been relatively easy for our Fram to push through to this point. All we need to do is consult the ice charts to see how far the ice has retreated this summer.

 

Pink-footed goose

Glaucous gulls

Whatever the case may be, few landscapes appear as dull as the shores of Simpson Strait – flat as a pancake, no trees, no shrubs, no hills, no rocks obstructing the view. Even the local wildlife is largely absent. Only a handful of glaucous gulls and a few pink-footed geese represent the fauna. Then, above King William Island, an impressive rainbow unfolds, as if nature feels the need to make amends. And there’s more: as tiny black dots in the distance, five muskoxen appear as a parting gesture. They are grazing, entirely indifferent to our presence.

Few landscapes appear as dull as the shores of Simpson Strait

King William Island – Muskoxen

Around four o’clock, we leave Simpson Strait behind and reach Storis Passage. This is where the two ships of the Franklin expedition ultimately met their end. The wreck of the Terror lies about twenty kilometres to the north, and that of the Erebus about sixty kilometres to the south. Both wrecks were discovered only recently, in 2016 and 2014, respectively, based on Inuit clues. Since then, Inuit have kept a close watch to prevent adventurers or treasure hunters from plundering the wrecks.

All that remains for us now is to cross the Queen Maud Gulf. On the other side of this body of water, more than three hundred kilometres away, Cambridge Bay awaits us.

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Thursday, August 31 | Cambridge Bay – Montréal

Six o'clock. We've just entered Dease Strait and are about to make a ninety-degree turn toward Cambridge Bay. In the east, a pale glow announces the dawn. There’s light cloud cover, visibility is excellent, and the sea gently laps against the sides of the Fram.

Yet this relatively obscure, ten-to-twenty-kilometre-wide waterway is the subject of an international dispute

Cambridge Bay in the distance

Nothing to worry about, you might think. Yet this relatively obscure, ten-to-twenty-kilometre-wide waterway is the subject of an international dispute. No matter what route you choose for the Northwest Passage, there’s no alternative to passing through Dease Strait. Whether travelling east to west through the archipelago or vice versa, you must navigate this stretch.

It wouldn't be the first time the U.S. has stealthily sent subs through the Northwest Passage

And that presents a problem. Ottawa asserts that the waters of the Canadian Arctic Archipelago are internal Canadian waters, giving the Canadian government the right to potentially prohibit certain vessels from passing through Dease Strait. However, several other capitals, including Washington D.C., argue that this is an international strait, where all ships, regardless of nationality, have the right to passage.

 

Cambridge Bay

This is far from a mere academic debate. Prudhoe Bay in Alaska is the largest oil field in North America. Supertankers, too large to pass through the Panama Canal, would naturally prefer the Northwest Passage over the long journey around the southern tip of South America. With climate change and the increasing ice-free conditions during the summer months, this is becoming a real possibility. But Canada is not keen on seeing a flood of oil tankers in this fragile environment, let alone nuclear submarines. It wouldn't be the first time the U.S. has stealthily sent subs through the Northwest Passage.

For now, the dispute remains unresolved

For now, the dispute remains unresolved. In June 2019, the United States reaffirmed its stance that Canada’s claim over the Northwest Passage as internal waters still violates international law. In short, Cambridge Bay holds a strategic position, further emphasized by the presence of a Distant Early Warning Line radar installation.

 

Cambridge Bay

The Canadian government certainly isn't placing any obstacles in our path. Around eight o'clock, the Fram reaches its temporary final destination in Cambridge Bay, located on the southeast coast of Victoria Island – one of the largest islands in the world, more than twice the size of Iceland.

Over the past seventeen days, we've covered a total of 3 394 nautical miles, or 6 286 kilometres. At an average cruising speed of twelve knots, this equals almost twelve full days of sailing.

In short, it's good shopping in this area – by which the Inuit mean hunting and fishing

Just before ten, the zodiacs drop us off on the stone pier in Cambridge Bay. Angela is there to greet us and immediately congratulates us on our successful journey through the archipelago. It's not as easy as it may seem, she adds. She herself isn't Inuit but describes herself as a newcomer who feels at home here and has deep admiration for their culture and resilience.

 

Cambridge Bay

Iqaluktuuttiaq, as the indigenous people call this place, means a good place to fish. Just half an hour away are excellent fishing grounds, particularly in the Ekalluk River and Lake Tahiryuaq. Here, they fish for lake trout and Arctic char, a salmon-like fish that spawns in the lake. Additionally, the narrow passage between the lake and the strait makes it an ideal spot for hunting caribou, as it's part of their migration route. But you'll also find musk oxen, arctic hares and ptarmigans here. In short, it's good shopping in this area – by which the Inuit mean hunting and fishing, Angela grins. It's no surprise, then, that the Early Dorset people knew this as far back as four thousand years ago.

 

Hudson's Bay Company fur hut

The settlement's roots were planted in 1921 when the Hudson's Bay Company established a trading post here. Five houses from that era still stand, and Angela leads us to the modest Iqaumavit Park, which means a place of memories. There, we see the five wooden houses, as well as the first schoolhouse that later became a police station, a plane propeller from a crash site, and a historic rowboat.

The wolves represent southern influences threatening Inuit culture, while the muskox symbolizes the Inuit standing firm against this cultural tide

Iqaumavit park – The muskox braces itself against the cultural influences from the south

However, it's a striking artwork made from recycled metal that immediately captures our attention. The life-sized, colourful muskox faces off against two aggressive, colourless wolves. The muskox has its back to the north, while the wolves appear to come from the south. This is intentional – the wolves represent southern influences threatening Inuit culture, while the muskox symbolizes the Inuit standing firm against this cultural tide.

 

Wolf

Muskox

The project was carried out by local youth, particularly some troubled young people who were on a path towards delinquency until the police intervened. The community took them under its wing, Angela explains – not to judge or condemn, but to offer them a second chance. They were engaged in a creative skills project, learning how to make beautiful things from scrap material. Of course, this only happened after consultation with the elders, Angela adds gently, because that’s what Inuit always do.

In Inuit culture, man and woman form a partnership – one hunts, the other sews. No bird flies with one wing, as they say.

Today, this place holds great symbolic significance. When something happens, like a young person committing suicide – Angela mentions this almost casually – people gather here. Not to talk, as Inuit aren't big on words, but just to be together and process the event in silence.

 

Cambridge Bay

The Inuit do not have fixed gender roles. Man and woman form a partnership; one hunts, the other sews. They have a striking expression for it – no bird flies with only one wing. This partnership is very important as an economic entity capable of sustaining itself.

The Inuit are closely connected to their lands and view multinationals eager to mine minerals or exploit oil fields with suspicion

Iqaluit, the capital of Nunavut, is 1 700 kilometres away from here. That's quite a distance, but nevertheless, the elected representatives of all Inuit communities regularly meet there. They don’t do this to form political parties, according to Angela, but to consult and seek solutions together. The Inuit are closely connected to their lands and view multinationals eager to mine minerals or exploit oil fields with suspicion. On one hand, this brings in a lot of money, which could give impoverished Inuit communities a significant boost, but on the other hand, it can pose a serious threat to the environment in general and to their hunting and fishing grounds in particular.

 

Cambridge Bay

Not one, but three guides will accompany us during our walk through Cambridge Bay – Wyland, Black, and Brian. These three young men are not talkative. They only share information gradually. In front of the RCMP office, the Royal Canadian Mounted Police, only the Canadian flag flies. Cambridge Bay has 86 police officers, according to Wyland. From all over the world, he replies when we ask where they are recruited from.

 

Cambridge Bay

Glad Tidings Pentecostal Church

An abandoned school building gives the impression that education in Cambridge Bay isn’t doing well, but the opposite is true. There is a kindergarten, an elementary school, and a high school. There is even a branch of the Nunavut Arctic College, essentially adult education. Lifelong learning and the integration of traditional Inuit knowledge are highly valued there.

 

 

Then, suddenly, Black springs into action. We are now standing next to a hotel, he informs us. Is it still in use? Probably, but he’s not sure. Is this the only hotel in Cambridge Bay? On the other side of town, there’s another hotel, Wyland guesses. And maybe there’s also a restaurant that offers rooms. But he’s not certain.

 

Church of Our Lady of the Arctic

Cambridge Bay has three churches, including the Glad Tidings Pentecostal Church and the Church of Our Lady of the Arctic, a Roman Catholic church. A friendly lady waves us inside. The interior is serene, with beautiful wooden pews and handmade tapestries on the walls. But it’s the colourful stained-glass windows that steal the show. They date from the 1970s or 80s and were crafted by the priest at that time. Biblical themes are given an indigenous twist – the nativity scene is set in an igloo, the archangel wears a fine costume made of animal hides, and on Noah’s Ark, it’s a goose and a caribou that board.

On the colourful stained-glass windows, biblical themes are given an indigenous twist

Church of Our Lady of the Arctic		Noah's Ark with caribou and goose
Archangel dressed in animal skins		An igloo as a nativity scene

At the Visitor Centre, a passionate woman is in charge. Her name is Kennedy, and she’s unstoppable in her enthusiastic talk about her people and her town. She single-handedly dispels the myth that Inuit are silent people.

Each speak a different dialect of the same language. But that doesn’t really matter, because they can’t understand each other anyway

Cambridge Bay has 1 700 inhabitants, which makes this town one of the most important in the vast Nunavut territory. Nunavut is actually made up of three regions – namely Kitikmeot, Kivalliq, and Qikiqtaalut – each of which has its own language. Or, more accurately, they each speak a different dialect of the same language. But that doesn’t really matter, because they can’t understand each other anyway, Kennedy says with a smirk.

 

License plate in the shape of a polar bear

Fishing is an important activity in Cambridge Bay, as we already knew. But it’s not only done for personal use; they also fish for commercial purposes. The Arctic char caught here mostly goes to a fish processing company and then to supermarkets.

For the old church, only local materials were used; seal oil and sand served as mortar

Originally, Cambridge Bay was located on the other side of the inlet. It was there that the Hudson’s Bay Company established a small trading post, and in 1954, a beautiful church was built. Only local materials were used; seal oil and sand served as mortar. Over time, the church became a heritage site until it was destroyed by a fire in 2006. According to the RCMP, it was intentionally set.

 

Distant Early Warning Line

In 1955, work began on the installations for the Distant Early Warning Line. Around 200 local Inuit were hired for the project. To live closer to their work, they moved to this side of the bay. This led to the creation of the new town, while the old town gradually emptied.

The lucky winners are each allowed to hunt one caribou, but this must be done within a set timeframe

Polar bears and caribou are protected, Kennedy emphasizes. However, a limited number of caribou are allowed to be hunted each year. Which hunters are given this honour is determined by lottery. The lucky winners are each allowed to hunt one caribou, but this must be done within a set timeframe. If they fail, another person is selected. Sometimes it takes weeks for a hunter to return. The results of the hunt are always offered to the elders first, as they can no longer hunt to provide for their own food.

 

Canadian High Arctic Research Station

Our trio now leads us to the edge of the town, where we come across a surprisingly large and modern building – something you wouldn’t expect in this environment. It’s the unique Canadian High Arctic Research Station, an ultra-modern research facility designed to develop top-level Arctic science and technology. Indigenous knowledge is explicitly regarded as a fundamental contribution here.

 

Canadian High Arctic Research Station – Laboratory

At the Red Fish Arts Studio, we gather just after noon. We’re presented with a select assortment of samples – raw narwhal, smoked Arctic char, fried muskox meat, and a dessert with berries. It must be said, the local Inuit enthusiastically put their best foot forward.

We’re presented with a select assortment of samples – raw narwhal, smoked Arctic char, fried muskox meat, and a dessert with berries

Now, we wait for our flight to Montreal, 3 160 kilometres from here. But we’ll make a short detour via Iqaluit, the capital of Nunavut, for a technical stop. The airport is about three kilometres away. There are no buses in Cambridge Bay – where would they go? So, a handful of locals take it upon themselves to get us there.

 

Cambridge Bay

Just before two o’clock, we hop into a vehicle driven by a cheerful driver, a person of colour, seemingly an immigrant. With its 1 700-meter length, the unpaved runway of Cambridge Bay is the longest in Canada, he tells us with a hint of pride. A Boeing 737 lands here five days a week. Military planes also land frequently, he adds.

Boarding passes are unnecessary, you have to remember your seat number yourself

The airport building is fairly modest. Everything here is done manually, from checking in luggage to assigning seat numbers. Boarding passes are unnecessary, you have to remember your seat number yourself. Much like the stuffed polar bear at the baggage claim in Longyearbyen, Spitsbergen, here there’s a stuffed muskox on display.

Just before four, we take off aboard a Boeing 737-200 from Nolinor Aviation. To the left, we get a stunning view of Cambridge Bay and its surroundings. North of the town stretches a typical Arctic landscape of countless lagoons and pools. These form because the permafrost prevents water from seeping into the ground, creating marshy terrain. The many ridges and grooves where the water gathers are shaped by the eternal cycle of freezing and thawing. Far in the distance, almost at the horizon, we can just make out Lake Tahiryuaq, one of the sources of Cambridge Bay’s relative prosperity.

 

Victoria Island – Cambridge Bay

These Inuit are not wimps living on the edge of civilization. We have come to know them as a people with incredible resilience, an intense zest for life and an astonishing endurance. They are devoted to their country and proud of who they are. They welcome the achievements of Western society, without denying their own culture. And they have a great sense of humour and irony.

Or, as it reads on the official website of the municipality of Cambridge Bay: We've got Cadets, Elks, and drum dancers. Hockey and curling in the winter, swimming in the summer. Saturday morning pancake breakfasts, sit down bingos, kids selling chocolates or flowers to raise money for the new school gym, food bank, grad trip, or whatever might be needed at the moment. No trees shedding leaves to rake, no lawns to mow. What could be more perfect?

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Jaak Palmans
© 2024 | Version 2024-09-18 14:00

(ks) Credit: Kevin Snair
(ra) Amundsen Roald, To the North Magnetic Pole and through the Northwest Passage (1907)