It is very much winter here now. Our first major snowfall on September 13th never completely disappeared from the ground, and much more has been added since then. Although the temperatures have remained mild, around -1 or -2, the grey skys and blowing winds have made it feel colder. And we’re now into our light deficit. The autumnal equinox fell a week after the first snow and since then we’ve had less sun than most of the rest of the northern hemisphere.
I’m not ready for winter yet, although lord knows I should be used to it. I’m not sure if it is because we had such a nice summer this year. Or perhaps it was my two trips out this year, out to where summer truly exists. Or perhaps it is just a lack of caffeine, seeing as I gave up coffee a couple of months ago. Whatever the reason, I find myself wishing that winter wasn’t quite ready to envelope my world.
So, I’m going to write about summer instead, a post or two that I had intended to write before, perhaps that will warm these bones of mine.
Victor Bay lies on the other side of the hills that Arctic Bay is nestled in. A road over a low pass connects it to the community, a short trip of only about 4 kilometres. Because of the vagaries of the ice here, it stays frozen for about 2 to 3 weeks longer in the spring than Arctic Bay, and because of that it is where people start and end their journeys out on the land after the beginning of June.
Every spring and summer it becomes a focal point of activities around Arctic Bay. About forty to fifty tents spring up there and most people in Arctic Bay will live there at one time or another in the spring. People will stay out at Victor Bay and travel back and forth for work or groceries or whatever. I often joke that they are escaping from the hustle and bustle of Arctic Bay, but it is not far from the truth. The people of Arctic Bay are closely tied to the land, and this is one of the ways that they keep connected to it.
A typical tent is a white walled tent, often home made, often made with double walls for some insulation. At the far end there will be a sleeping area, usually slightly raised off the ground. And at the entrance side will be a open area, coleman stove and cooking/storage on either side. There is always tea on the stove, and usually bannock baking, either on the stove or on kerosene heaters if they have them.
I greatly enjoy the life in Victor Bay, although I only get a small taste of it. Leah’s family spends much of the spring and summer out there and we often visit. What happens out there? People visit, play cards, listen to the ever present HF (or bush) radio which constantly cackles with conversation. A lot of tea gets drank. You can find someone awake, or conversely – asleep, at almost every hour. It is a very relaxed place. For myself I find it so relaxing that I often fall asleep there while visiting, stretched out on the foam mattresses, the sounds of inuktitut and the radio swirling around, the constant hiss of the Coleman Stove, the sounds of the children playing outside, a belly full of tea and bannock warming me.
These early days of winter are finding me longing for a tent in Victor Bay. You know, to escape from the hustle and bustle of town.
Comments
5 responses
Whew!
Makes me want to cry! Prefect discription of Inuit life! No rules, no taxes…..
As I read your blog with my morning coffee in hand, I felt a little bit of me die inside when I read that you had given up the good stuff.
“The vernal equinox”
I guess you mean the autumnal equinox?
Great post – very evocative. The Victor Bay camps sound really cozy.
No rules? Why do I keep getting told what to do Joanasie?
I know Adam. But I assure you that on days like today I’m awfully tempted to start drinking coffee again. Just to get my brain out of neutral.
Whoops. Of course I meant the Autumnal Equinox Dave. Corrected now. And thanks for the kind words.
That sounds absolutely delightful. I’d probably fall asleep too!