The End?

View of the town with blue sea ice free of its snow cover

My last three weeks in Whale Cove was filled with outdoor activities, mostly thanks to Sean. I don't think I can ever repay his kindness, generosity and thoughtful instructions. On Saturday May 10th. I headed out on the sea ice to make my way to Rankin Inlet. A distance of roughly 90km on the ice and some stretches of land that were both mostly covered with soft snow. Of course once again I needed Sean's help to show me where the trail out of town actually started. The night before, he came by his ATV and I followed him using Andy's ATV out to learn where the Whale Cove - Rankin trail was. It was a 20 minute drive on the rocks and frozen lakes to make it out on the sea ice. He gave me some final advice and we then drove back to town.

High school hunting trip. We managed to get three caribous

So I started my walk about 9am Saturday morning. The backpack, which contained more than fifty pounds of necesities, was painfully heavy. I knew right away that it would be almost impossible to make it all the way to Rankin during the long weekend. But decided to go any ways. I would get to the first stretch of land, 30km out, camp overnight, and reevaluate the situation then. The morning was a bit windy and overcast. I walked for an hour and a hlaf to get out on the sea ice, the begining of the trail.

A  group of hunters on their way from Arviat to Rankin Inlet

I struggled for about another 3 hours before I saw the first snow mobile. It was Paul Kaludjak driving to Rankin Inlet for their fishing derby. Most towns in Nunavut have a fishing derby in May to kick off the arrival of spring. And it is common that many people drive from community to community to take part in the derby. There are worthwhile prizes to be won, but the main reason is keeping the tradition alive. This is also the time many Inuits head out on the land to catch fish, geese, caribou, and muskox and dry their meat. He offered me a ride to Rankin. I politely refused but asked him if he could take my backpack with him and drop it at the first stretch of land. I assured him that I would make it that far and would find my supplies. So he left with my heavy backpack and of course my provision with him.

My neighborhood at 1:30am

Another four hours of walk and I didn't find the backpack. The reason was that the wind had blurred the trail, and I realized I was going in some random direction. Although I could see the land, but it was much wider and more spread out than I had imagined it to be. There was no way I could find it on my own. Luckily I saw the second snowmobile heading to Rankin. This time it was Gordon and his family. They offered me a ride, assuring me they would follow the same path Paul did so I can find my backpack. Sure enough we found it within 15 minutes. Paul had thoughtfully left it on a high rock right on the side of the trail. I thanked Gordon and his family, and started the long process of setting up the tent.

My shelter on the snow

Inside my humble tent

Of course the wind had other ideas. I almost lost the tent twice, before finally finding some very large rocks to anchor it. All in an hour flat. Piece of cake, right! The trip started to feel much better after setting up the shelter. I made some tea, had hot instant noodle and dried my wet pants and socks using a tiny coleman stove. The tent was on the snow, but a thin yoga mat and my light sleeping bag was all I needed to stay warm. The wind was strong and loud, but luckily the tent withstood it all night long. The good thing about it was that I wouldn't have to worry about listening to footsteps of polar bears approaching. It simply was too loud to hear anything but the howl of the wind. So I slept peacefully, with my fully loaded rifle at arm's reach!

Me driving out on the sea ice for the fishing derby

I woke up about 6:30am. The tent was nice and warm, and the wind had finally relented. It felt soo good to just lie there, feel warm in the middle of and on ice and snow. In the arctic finding water is never a problem. In fact it is always just a stone throw away. All I had to do was to unzip the tent's door and get some snow to melt for tea and coffee. I know I sometime sound like advertising for a product, but I truly appreciated the little old style perculator that Sid had given me before I headed out to the arctic. Never had a cup of coffee that good. Ever! Soon I started to pack my belonging and shoving them all in the backpack. I left the backpack on the same spot, hoping either Gordon or Paul will bring it back with them the next day. I grabbed my rifle, termos filled with tea and a plastic bag full of trail mix and figs bars and headed back towards Whale Cove. I knew Rankin was out of reach this time, because of soft snow and heavy backpack. Perhaps next year or the year after.

No luck with ice fishing. Yet!

I took a different route back to town, heading west to the mainland, then southeast back to town. On my way back I saw many ringed seals basking in the sun. Managed to videotape some, but couldn't zoom enough to have a focused still shot. It took me 9 hours to make it back. I started my first break after two hours, then an hour and half, and eventually every half an hour or so. Was feeling the pain in almost every muscle in my both legs. And I thought I was fit. To make the matter worse, my face was stinging from severe sunburn. I carried sunscreen all the way from Vancouver to Whale Cove, but didn't bother taking it with me when it was needed the most. I had a lobster face for the whole week before the red peeled off, luckily.

Brianna caught three chars in less than half an hour!

Once back in town, All I could do was just rest and recover. Monday May 12th was the hamlet day, a territorial holiday in Nunavut. I went out on the bay to watch the festivities and races that would commemorate the holiday. It was loaded with fun. Snowmobile races of all kinds. First towing a kamutiq that had an empty oil barrel on it for about 2km with many turns.

Getting ready for the barrel race

The trick was to drive fast but controlled enough to make sure the barrel stayed on the kamutiq. Next, they had to drag a skin with an empty gas can on top. Again the same procedure. There were also a race where competitors had to drag their partner on a skin. This one using manpower only! All these races were for both man and women and various age groups.

Benjie, his wife Marianne, and duaghter Brianna in the background.

The Victoria day weekend was our twon's fishing derby. First place prize for lake trout and cod was $7000 and $3500 respectively. There were considerable cash prizes for up to 9th place for both species. We went out on the land by the river looking for trout. People go far and away for this event. it is not just for the cash prize and the bragging right. But also a time to enjoy some time with family camping in the wild. In the end the first place prize for trout went to a family who had come here from Arviat, a town about 190km south of here. My good friend George Okalik won the first and third place prizes for the cod. I along with my roommate Andy and three of his friends from Ontario were using George's cabin for most of the weekend. Very generous of George, thank you my friend.

Picnic on the frozen river, 50km from the town.

On the Victoria day we decided to follow Sean and his family to the floe edge to try fishing for cod one last time, and perhaps hunt seals. Cods were not cooperating, but Sean did catch two seals. As soon as the poor seal peeked its head out of the water, we all knew it was doomed. Sean shot it, dead accurately with the first shot. He paddled his kayak out to harpoon and drag it back to the ice. It took him only minutes to skin, gut and chop the meat, with the help of his wife. Just as he was finished with the first seal, up came another one. And sure enough dead with the first shot. He did the exact same thing with second seal. He offered me some fresh raw seal meat which I tried. It was pretty good, really. I have never ever been so at ease with killing of any creature as I have been on the tundra. It is a necessity. And it is comforting how Inuits so carefully and respectfully harvest what they need to survive.

Sean towing the first seal back to the ice.

Dead seal being hauled on the ice.

Sean pulling the catch over on the ice.

Sean and his wife Natasha cleaning the seal.

My last weekend in Whale Cove was spent hunting and fishing out on the tundra with Sean, his younger brother Maka, and another local friend, Michael. We set out on Friday afternoon to his cabin which is about 45 km drive, first on the sea ice and then on the land. We dropped our supplies and headed out on the forzen sections of the river for some ice fishing. There were others out there fishing already. They caught some, but we didn't. I have yet to catch a fish through ice. A skill that apparently takes years to master! We saw a family heading out on the land to a cabin. But they were a bit nervous driving on the melting ice and weren't sure which way was best to go. Of course Sean right away offered to escort them to their destination. We stayed behind to try fishing some more, but still didn't catch any. So back to the cabin we went once Sean was back form his guiding duty. The cabin was nice and warm.

I am trying to cut another hole through the crack on the sea ice

Jelly fish through a crack on the sea ice.

Next morning I stayed behind to film and photograph the tundra, basically relaxing on my last weekend, rather than joining the caribou hunt. I walked and fished, and chatted with locals who had also made the 50km journey to enjoy a picnic on the forzen river. Again I didn't catch any. I could see the arctic chars circling my lures beneath 8 feet of crystal clear ice, but just couldn't convince them to bite the lure. Everyone else, including 10 year old girls were catching them left right and centre! I had tea with them, and as more families joined, I decided to continue on my walk. I walked to open sections of the river where it was very shallow. But at least I could try casting, real fishing that is. Still I caught nothing, exactly as my inuit friends had predicted. Their rational was that the fish were still in the deeper water, waiting to head to the bay later in the month. But I did manage to take some good photos, and videotape myself catching nothing. Geese and cranes were flying over with loud calls, continuously.

A portion of our catch on the last hunting weekend in Whale Cove.

It is disapointing to leave this beautiful place at its most beautiful time of the year. But this is how it is and I surely will appreicate and enjoy it much more next time around. I have been dreading this last post for a very long time. I absolutely hate saying bye, especially to a community that had so generously embraced me and taught me so many lifelong lessons. I have been back in Vancouver for less than 24 hours, but already know that Whale Cove and my Inuit friends are what I miss. I promised everyone that I'll go back, perhaps in a year's time, and I really hope I can fulfil that promise.

My last weekend in Whale Cove fishing the open section of the river.

There is no way I could have done any of the above if it wasn't for Sean. I went there to teach their children, but was taught lessons of survival, hospitality and generosity by the best teacher anyone could have ever had. It is so unfair that people like me go there as experts, while real life expert instructors like Sean and George are not appreciated by the system. I truly wish some day those in charge realize what valuable assets they are overlooking and start finding ways to tap into these vast practical knowledge before it is too late. Thank you my friend, Sean!

Beautiful blue of the sea ice freed from the snow.

With love from Whale Cove!