From The Bloggers Desk

From your feedback and emails, it’s been obvious that many have been following this blog in the past 4 weeks. It was my hope to be able to document this trip. I think I’ve accomplished that, possibly more. With photo and text you have followed my exploits. You’ve asked if it was lonely or what I did, but you’ve been looking at and reading the results. I mentioned once that I couldn’t have bought this education. It's true. I learned things about myself and about others.

By my telling this story, you can better understand the people of the north and the tribulations that occur there. Perhaps, the next time a story appears in the news you can have a better understanding of the what, when, and why. Things work differently in the north, they have to.

In the Arctic, dangers exist and tragedies can easily happen. Life is hard but rewarding. This 6-day blizzard refocused me to that. In each community of the north, there is a search and rescue group that is dispatched when someone is reported lost. Often times the results can be a good outcome and the individual(s) is recovered successfully. Many times, though, the results are tragic and the outcome saddens all. The elders who travel in blizzard conditions do so at their personal peril. Such are the ways there. Neighbours help neighbours. Friends are friends for life..and family is important...whether they all get along on not.

It’s not a simple life. It is a simple practice.

12 noon Thursday....1 a.m. Monday

Those were my arrival times. Actual vs Original. What's the difference? 3 extra days of managing to cope in what is now known as the worst blizzard in 30 years in Rankin Inlet. My source...the prairie edition of the Globe and Mail (Thursday January 24, 2008) read while heading on my toronto-bound flight. You couldn't trade those three days.

First, most folk would not believe you. Up to 70 kph winds and yet, at night, you could see the full moon. The resultant drifts and my shots don't due justice since I was leaving at the first break of good weather. The one in the Globe showed the snowy town named lettered on the airport building. I had that shot two weeks ago.

Second, the howl of the wind. Anything that was movable had moved in the previous four days of blowing. There were no garbage bags rolling down the street. There was the occassional person or group walking slowly along, with a certain destination in mind. Steady in their pace, they made it.

Third, the warmth. With Monday's break for about five hours, people had had enough. They wanted out for fresh surroundings, conversation and the fact that they had been holed up for four days. This allowed me an opportunity to have the Health Centre staff sign my Nunavut territory flag. This is a full sized flag that I had bought at the Ivulue store. I had hoped to take it in on my last two days at the centre. It never happened.

The blizzard did instead. So my Sunday 9 a.m. Calm Air flight was postponed to 4 p.m. Monday but the break early monday morning allowed everyone to head into the centre. My bags packed, I made my way there to thank them, personally, for their warmth and kindness over the past almost (at that time three weeks). I had my flag, some chocolates I had brought from home and also in tow was what was left of another couple of trays of muffins (minus what Joe and I had consumed on the weekend) with our tea.

Apparently, I'm the first to have brought in the territorial flag and have the staff sign it. Flag signing in a big thing in Rankin Inlet. They often send signed flags. They're small, easy to pack and mine will have a whole host of memories. Many sent their wishes along with their english and Inuktitut names. Everyone from the building maintenance guy to Marie. Marie is not the rad tech but is trained as a radiography worker.

She had flown out on Tuesday before the storm started with a relative and was to return Thursday so I would have been able to thank her on Friday. Never happened. Instead she was on the First Air flight that landed in the good weather window at noon. (remember the second flight was within fifty feet of landing and aborted). That was the only plane to land in Rankin airport until Wednesday morning when the airport, swimming in water, became a beehive of activity.

Maries' daughter also works at the centre and smiled ear to ear when she told me that Marie had gotten back. I asked if she was coming into work this afternoon or heading into the "Northern" for groceries. She wasn't sure, but said call her, which I did.

Now in Rankin Inlet there is one telephone exchange 645. You know the area code. so the important thing is those last four digits and that's how they say their phone number. That may change this summer as it is rumoured that cell phone service may be coming to town. So I called Marie and thanked her for her time and support and help during my time. I mentioned the flag and that my flight was at 4 p.m.

Its' now one thirty and time to head back to the barn to finish stowing my gear, have a shower and prepare for the journey home. The next thing Marie arrives through the staff entrance. Her husband brought her there on snow machine. She signs my flag. I head home to find out....I'm cancelled at 4 but rebooked for 5:45, The wind is now picking up and the snow is swirling. My Inkshuk still stands quiet and snow covered out my window. I fear Alice is right. I dont feel I'm flying today but what about Tuesday.

I turns out Alice should work part time for Environment Canada. She was right about Tuesday as well. It socked in worse than some of the other days. Again, the health centre was closed and the moon was bright overhead that night.

Wednesday morning I get up at six and start to repack for my trip home. Will it be today or not. I call airlines and make bookings. It's 8:35, the phone rings. You are leaving now, they want you at the airport NOW. What I said I don't know but I'm now in panic mode, not wanting to miss my plane but making sure I have all my stuff. The three second shower, cold water be damned. My ride is here. Room mate Joe has brought the truck and loads my carryon. I'm still trying to fit the last pieces into the suitcase.

I get the case sealed and struggle to the front porch. Joe takes it and I get my cold clothes on. I run to the truck still running and we rush the five minute jaunt to the airport. The main entrance is closed but there is activity on the other side of the drifts. We go down one road and then another and finally poke through an area with a narrow set of tracks that loooks quite used this morning. We have arrived. I rush in to find some of the staff of the centre heading out to Whale Cove on this flight which continues to Winipeg. Will I be among them? Almost a half hour later my fate is doomed. The flight is full. I'm again on the 4 p.m. Will the weather hold?

I take a moment and realize I've been sweating so much my head is dripping. This is a reality game but no game. This same scene is being repeated for many at airports all over the area as I soon see. The emotions are all over the map. The airlines are taking names by hand since their computers are down due to the water. The lobby clears after the Calm Air flight leaves by Gate three. Townspeople go home. There 's less than a dozen people still here and most are ariline staff. Me and my luggage remain.

I find out that First Air has put a bigger plane on for their 1405 flight. A 737 that also carries over 20,000 pounds of cargo. I'm on the written list. They check my bag. Will my ticket be approved in time? I will then have a half hour to catch my flight on westjet in Winnipeg, I spend time on the phone and book it (again). Will I make it? Don't know, but it's worth the try. I call the centre and get a ride back so I can do the online check in since I will be airborne.

The day is sunny with the brightest blue sky imaginable. They all laugh that I haven't left yet. Someone asks did you come back already? I laugh. I send out emails to those at home telling them my fate so far. I do the web check in. Get the paperwork for tickets and all. The fax telling me I'm booked on First Air and it looks like a go...this time. I arrange another ride to the airport for 1 p.m. My baggage is checked, I only need my boarding pass.

I get to the airport to find the plane is late. NOT a good sign. It went to Thompson first then back to Winnipeg then is coming directly here. The goods and people have been building so they are trying to get the most moving and undo the backlog. There will be a half hour turn around. I'm now going to miss my connection in Winnipeg..if I get out. Back to the payphone, I call Westjet and proceed to uncheck in she puts me on hold. After 15 minutes and taking up one of the two phones here I hang up. I let that backlog clear and try again. Westjet people have been pleasant every time. At forty dollars each cancellation I would hope so.

I am now booked for 6 a.m. departure to Toronto thursday morning. I will check in on the web from the hotel, if and when. The lobby of this airpot is packed and the crowd growing. I meet people I've xrayed, staff from the restaurant, grocery store and health centre. In the space of an hour three 737's land. One heads off to Iqaluit having arrived from Yellowknife. At least, 6 fixed wing prop planes have arrived. Friends and family have been greeted and say goodbye as some meet on their way to their destination. Connie's sister arrives. She was to be here last thusday and be leaving today but, alas, that did not occur. Instead, she became houseguest/manager at the Four Points Sheraton across from the Winnipeg airport. She felt part of the staff there, she'd been so long.

Others hover and wait to see what's happening. The ground staff move crates and baggage and eventually two golden retievers, crated their names and photos and owner details printed on top, arrive into the waiting area warmth. Their owners are not happy since the dogs have been waiting on the ground by the plane for what seems like an eternity. Ironically, the next day at the Tim Hortons in Winnipeg airport, I meet the ground baggage handlers who loaded those dogs onto the plane five times before they finally got to Rankin (can dogs collect air miles and do you have to land to get the credits?).

The sun is starting to go down. An hour of daylight has been added on each end of the day since I got here. This is scarry I am starting to know too much. Airport staff lead group after group out onto the runway and into the various planes. They taxi and take off. It's almost 3:35. Some congestion in this hall has changed but it's still busy. Finally, they call our flight just as I am preparing to get Connies' sisters luggage off the belt. I say goodbye and exit Gate 1 across the snowy ground lugging my carryone. The sun is now lower and a four o'clock takeoff looks good. We might make it...We do!

From my window seat, I see the bay known as Hudson's, snow covered. It's dusk all the way to Thomson where we will have to deplane and go throught airport security. Going further south, the daylight remains the same for that hour and five minute flight...with one exception. I see trees. Yes, lakes and riverbeds and hills and roads and trees.

We land. Deplane and go through Airport Security. All our bags are removed from the plane and put through the scanner and reloaded. I get frisked and the laptop gets swapped and the camera gets swapped and the cases etc. I have to steady myself and raise each boot seperately while he "checks". Eventually I tell them you guys don't have anything here in Thompson to do, do you? Knowing the levels of terrorist activity that I seen in Rankin, I'm surprized the GRC aren't escorting me back to the plane in bracelets.

The next hour into Winnipeg is flawless and by 8 I'm into the hotel, have called home and ready to get some grub. I head to the desk, do my check in for the morning flight, get my paperwork and arrange a 4 .m. wake up call. I head to the bar. TSN and Rogers Sportsnet boast games. I watch the red and white junior game on SPORTSNET. I choose the beer battered fish and chips along with a Fort Garry Dark. My tired mind laughs when I think "How come the animal rights people haven't got after those people that batter fish?" The soup is good, the fish is superb, most of the fries I leave. The game continues and another Fort Garry Dark evaporates before me.

Returning to my room I look out my window. My familiar Inukshuk has been replaced by another concrete structure. A water park attached to the indoor pool. I close my eyes. My life has changed.

homer

"Welcome to winnipeg" it said above the terminal entrance. At 8.p.m. wednesday 23rd, I arrived here. it's been an interesting trip all the way around...Arctic blizzard or not, I would not have traded this adventure for most things in this world.

Number one day in town, at the health centre, I had gazooks of people welcoming me to Rankin Inlet. On day 20 while getting ready to leave, having to go back to the health centre to print documents for flights leaving rankin inlet, I can only say it was like leaving friends I had known for years. There were no tears. Here, people move in and out like a merry go round.

The airport has three gates, not two as first reported here. They also have a sprinkler system. I have become somewhat of an expert in sprinkler systems and -37 degree temperatures. "Get the bucket" is the most appropriate response. I felt quite at home amid the fluid running along the baseboards and across the terminal floor. I missed it "by that much" as they used to say on Get Smart. Needless to say my early arrival at the airport allowed me to miss an encore presentation of fluid delight as the sprinkler head was replaced in the xray room. No pictures are available, unfortunately. The score was tied until near the end. The sprinkler heads won in a shoot out.

At the airport, in the space of 3/4 hour we had three 737's land and at least four maybe five fixed wing propellers planes fly in and out. Such was the backlog of people and goods needed to move and keep the economy of the north moving. The ground crew was amazing given the logistics of what had to be moved and what needed loading and unloading. Half the town arrived or left today, I think.

The sun was shining. People were smiling, except those expecting relatives from other settlements (remember, you can choose your friends). The airport crew were busy removing snow piles and trying to open the main entrance. Fifteen to twenty foot drifts blocked the main road and we all had to go along another airport access road to enter. Four hours later, the "cats" were still working to open the access.

At the airport, I saw many people I knew. I finally met the CEO of the health centre. On Monday, he was on the flight that went to within 50 feet of the runway and then aborted the landing and returned to Thompson-Winnipeg. I told him if he had paid full fare he would not have had the Rankin aerial tour but an actual ground tour of the town. We both laughed. I'll see how long it takes before my paycheque arrives.

Some of my first patients were there. I recognized them. I'm sure they recognized me. We chatted and one had been waiting six days to get back to town. It was the first time I could say "Welcome Back to Rankin Inlet". In hindshight, a more appropriate greting would have been "Welcome Home".

Today marks three weeks since I left Niagara Falls. I don't know where the time has gone. Almost 50 posts and over 450 viewers from england, scotland, spain, besides the North American continent have shown me there is interest in the Canadian North. The area is huge. The problems are also, but there is a constant effort to improve services to those living there.

If I were to thank anyone in particular, I would be missing someone. So, let me say it this way.

Thank you, Rankin Inlet.

NOTE: There are no photos tonight. It's been a long day. I'll make up for it soon with more posts with photos. Thanks for stopping by. This has been a great experience and another yet as good just telling it. The blog desk closes friday!

THE BLIZZARD of ‘08

This is Monday January 21. I was to land yesterday in Toronto. Toronto is currently a jigsaw puzzle hung above my couch at the “barn” Unit 506. I am resting comfortably here in Rankin Inlet. It’s 5 p.m. and I’m waiting for some co workers to head out for some chow.

To those survivors of the Blizzard of ’77 in Niagara, this has been a similar occurrence with one great big exception. This one lasted longer but the same rules apply. You hunker down and ride it out. Here everyone drives around in a snow machine or four wheel drive most of the time anyway. We had four cars at the same time at the four way stop the other night and everyone took their turn. Patience is something you learn here quickly.

You wait for people to get dressed. You wait for cars to warm up in the morning. You wait for the taxi. He picks up several fares at the same time and drops you off when he gets close to your destination. He may have dropped some others that came in after you first, but you are patient. You line up at the airline counter, you wait while flights are checked, rescheduled and cancelled all over again. It’s a five minute car run to the airport terminal. The drifts around it are 15 feet tall.

Even the lineups in the grocery stores and banking machines are social events. I was recognized last week standing in line at the bank’s insta-teller. She told me you work at the health centre, I recognize your coat. In a town of three thousand, word travels fast. Just because you are inside doesn’t mean that people don’t communicate. They do. They phone and talk and walk to each others houses since they get a northern cabin fever. Eventually tired of their spouses, kids, dogs, etc., they come back to work.

It’s been a busy day. The health centre re-opened today, after being officially closed for this storm since last Wednesday morning. This storm moved in on Tuesday and the last four blog stories were written at the beginning of this event. Much has happened so it’s time for sharing. The CBC finally put us on the map about midday on Thursday reporting severe weather conditions…yeah we had them so we sent them south! Want to borrow some mitts?

I arrived at the health centre this morning with my Nunavut Territory flag for all to sign as a memento of my “excursion”. I had baked muffins on Thursday night to take to work Friday in appreciation for their efforts and help during my stay here. Let’s just say that since work friday was cancelled there were about half the number of muffins that there should have been…but it was the thought that counted. I also had some chocolates.

I was outdone by John, the lab tech. He brought in some delicious looking Belgian. Sweets…I kept my control and left them for the staff. They love their sweets. At morning coffee, I thanked those that were present for making my first trip north such a warm memory and told them that my flight home was 4 p.m. and I was heading home one day late.

I heard Alice mumble something in Inuktitut. I asked what she said as she shook her head from side to side. “Not tomorrow either” she repeated in English. I’ll let you know if Alice should get hired by Environment Canada. My four p.m. got cancelled. I got rescheduled for the 5:45 that at 4:30 got cancelled. I’ll keep you posted on the delayed departure. I’m now on the 4 p.m. Tuesday. In the meantime, you really can appreciate the snow and wind howling from some shots I was able to take around the medical centre at noon. You can compare them with the ones taken a couple of weeks ago and see the difference yourselves.

In the meantime stay warm…we are. Check the weather link…and remember, we are one day closer to spring.

R.I. ART

Coming up here I had little time to prepare for the art that I’ve seen. Often times, through the day, carvers and handcrafters arrive at the health centre to sell their wares. The receptionist is heard over the intercom…carvers are here…mitts for sale front desk. Everything arrives in stages from fired pots, stone carvings, mitts and dolls.

His name is Sam Gusak but you may have met him by his signed name “Yvo” . Sam brought in two large pots, one decorated with faces and the other creatures of the sea. I thought we were into a mud wrestling scenario in the front lobby as two women were more than interested. I took his photo and looked over the booty.

I also met Kelly there. He’s from Baffin. He’s a carver. He gets his soapstone from the local coop. What he does with it is something else again.When I first met him he showed me a mask that he had done, dark black stone with a menacing stare. It was a wall hanging. Very nicely polished and finished. He looked disappointed when I told him that walls at home were mostly covered and I had little space left to hang things. It was a neat piece of work but I really couldn’t take it from him.

Not to be outdone, he arrived two nights later to my apartment. Many carvers stop by since they know many of the people staying in the Barn are “short termers”. Some people ignore the faint knocks at night, but this is new to me. I am curious so I open the door. I introduce myself as they tell me what they have to sell. You have to remember that many of the locals don’t lock their doors here, no one knocks and you are expected to walk in before you knock. So with some reluctance, I feel safe.

Kelly is there carrying another mask carving in his hand, signed and dated. It’s quite nice again dark stone with open nostrils and mouth and eyes. He tells me it took him a full day to make this one. He has a twist with this shaman mask though. This one stands on its own.

He just reduced my reason for not buying. Him, his girlfriend and daughter all live here year round. Originally from Pond Inlet he tells me he’s been in Rankin for about 9 years now. We talk price. I don’t haggle, his work is top notch in my limited opinion. I’ll know later when I show one of the “short termers that stayed” if I got a good deal. Before he heads out into the night, I ask if I can take his photo. He agrees. We do it.

I show the piece around and the general consensus is that it’s unique since no one has seen a self standing mask before, the quality of stone is good and the carving is finished nicely. I’ve got a good deal.

Two nights later, Kelly arrives again. In his hand is….another mask. I can still smell the grindstone burning smell. This one has taken another day plus to finish. This time the mask has a similar shaman theme but on angle with a “phantom of the opera” type side style. Again, it stands on its own. We talk. We deal. I tell him no more. I can’t carry anything more in my luggage. We both laugh. For me it’s true. For him it may mean the difference of food on his table.

The caribou antler carvers have also arrived. One knows me by name having been in for xrays. The cold wind is blowing outside and I invite her inside to warm, even though I really don’t like this particular carving. I tell her no and she tells me a sob story. I offer her coffee. From the kitchen, I ask how she likes it….eight sugars she says…I tell her four is the max is this house. And then start to heat it in the microwave. She tells me she wants it cold. The hot liquid will cause her to sweat and later I realize that could be fatal in this cold. She takes four quick gulps and then is off in the night, to other doors…for possible sales.

The Layered Look

The heavy winds and blowing snow provide great timing to reinforce the importance of layering. For those of you who are wondering if I’ve been cold here in R.I., the answer is yes and no. The only cold you feel is on your face when the wind is blowing in toward you. At your back it’s much better. The inside of your nose feels dry from breathing in the extraordinary (for southern Ontario anyway) cold air.

The facemask and balaclava have helped. That old OPP winter hat has worked out perfectly though, thank you Ontario. The double set of glove/mitts have been replaced with local issue that are much warmer. The others were fine but these are quicker on and off. I’ll have to keep a spot in the freezer for them this spring. My Sorrel boots have kept my feet warmer than anything I ever have owned. It was only after being here that I noticed that my snow overpants were Sorrel as well and those I had bought for working the golf course in late November.

The goose down coat has blocked the wind and kept me warm. There are those coming into the health centre that sport seal skin coats. The colours are most interesting as well. The back of the seal is a different colour from the underbelly and so both sides can create some interesting effects.

If you’ve been following this blog, I showed earlier the famous Amoti and how they are used. But the most amazing thing that these coats are all hand made here. The attention to detail is quite phenomenal. The piping and embroidery are exquisite. The kids coats are the same and appliqués adorn them as well. There are some very talented folks in this area with a sewing machine. The materials are available locally at the hardware store. I do not know who repairs them when they break but someone must. They are very resourceful here.

It took me a while to realize that those kid’s coat were also handmade. The ribbons of colour and decals are applied, I believe, so that people can recognize their kids by their coats individualized at home. Some coats even sport special autographs. There is a certain red coat in town that has the front shoulder panel signed by that famous numero 22, currently with Nashville Predators of NHL and wearing number 55 who returns to this hamlet every so often..

The hoods and cuffs are often trimmed with fur. Arctic fox and arctic hare (in winter) are the favourites for women since they are pure white and fluffy. With the hood raised an area of warmth is created in front of the face from the exhalation of that person’s breath. The fur causes the wind to swirl within the facial area. So now you are breathing in warmed air, much better for the airway and the lungs as well.

The down side of all this is the same as for the skills our forefathers possessed. The elders of the community seem to be the ones performing the talented tasks, This is changing though as seen in the arctic college brochures. There are new programs teaching about the old ways. The big question is who will be teaching those ways in 20 years or more.

These Boots Were Made…

...for walking and that’s just what they do. But, they do it so beautifully. From the first day at the health centre through to this week’s blizzard, you can see the importance of proper winter weather wear. Tomorrow it’s coats, but today, it’s footwear. I’ve taken some time to post a few shots of the various boots that I’ve seen and people have allowed me to shoot. Thanks to all for your input.

My scheduled time here in RI is fast coming to a close. Sunday, I’m supposed to leave at 9:00 with arrival at home sometime in the wee hours of Monday morning. The long range forecast shows sunny weather for the weekend, but only time will tell. Winds (max. plus 60 kph) and blowing snow had commercial flights yesterday and medivac flights the night before, diverted and cancelled but the storm has moved on and so should this story.

Many of the female staff wear their “boots” proudly. Various furs, intricately sewn together for various designs are display on feet upon arrival in the morning. Noon and five o’clock show the same parade. There are seal, beaver and the others. Susie, for example, has two pairs. One set are her Baffin Boots as she told me while the others are her West Coasters as I call them since we are on this side of the Hudson’s Bay.

Storage in the south for these boots presents a problem. You have to keep them cold for them to retain their flexibility. They will dry out especially the way we heat our houses in winter. Most people wouldn’t store these boots in the freezer or fridge but that’s exactly what you need to do. In this dry climate, they seem to remain flexible despite the summer heat but that is such a short period during the year.

The younger generations do not have the skills needed to put these things together. Like those our grandparents once possessed, we have lost the talents so necessary to survive and flourish. Once the animal skins have been harvested, they must be prepared. They are cleaned, stretched and blocked to dry. Then the must be worked to be made supple. The selection of skins is as important as is how they are cut, trimmed, and assembled.
And after they are put together and the stitching is completed, how they look is only important to the tourists. Well, yes, the look is important. Here, however, function is the guide. Furs here are part of the culture. Their warmth surpasses synthetics hands down. Fur mitts are warm and toasty even in the most bitter winter winds. During this past few days of blowing snow and bitter winds, I’m glad I’ve had my hands inside a couple of beaver ones.