At long last, I am able to share the fruits of our creative labour in Cambridge Bay this past fall. While we are still working on one final video, a music video, written, filmed, and edited by the participants entirely, there are four others to share.
The first video titled Walking With Hope is a short story about loss and the ability to move forward from it through hope and resiliency.
In addition to these two, there are two that were filmed with ITK as well. As mentioned in a previous blog post, a small film crew flew in from Ottawa to join us for one of our cultural events as we went ice fishing at Lake Greiner.
The first video, Iqaluktuuttiaq (both videos from ITK share the same title as they are named for location only), focuses on Dennis, a participant sharing his experience and relationship with the land and how it has changed over time.
The second Iqaluktuuttiaqvideo is through the eyes of David, our guide. He shares his experiences growing up in the area and how he feels now sharing his knowledge with the young generations and the program participants.
When the final video is ready to go live, it will be added as well. It is still a work in progress because this is being finished from a distance with the help of the student who has single-handedly edited this video from start to finish. Even with internet and technology challenges, he forges ahead!
I received my classroom packing list this morning. This was a very sobering reminder of the passage of time and just how quickly it has gone by.
October and November have been busy and eventful months here in Cambridge Bay. Between site visits to the Canadian High Arctic Research Station and the Kitikmeot Inuit Association AGM and curriculum-based activities, we picked-up another project through an organization called Inuit Tapiriit Kanatami (ITK), a non-profit organization representing over 60,000 Inuit people across Inuit Nunangat (including the four land claim regions).
This video storytelling project celebrates Canada’s 150th through stories of Inuit and their history and connections to the land and sea through the creation of 100 short films. In October, a few of the participants and I submitted a proposal for ITK to come to Cambridge Bay and film alongside side us during our cultural event.
Ikaluktutiak/Ekaloktotiak/Iqaluktuuttiaq, the variations of spelling for Cambridge Bay, translate to ‘good fishing place’ in Inuinnaqtun. The students identified to me that their relationship to the land and water has changed over time and they wanted the opportunity to reconnect. On November 4th, we welcomed Kat and Jake from ITK to Cambridge Bay.
A participant filming ITK landing at the Cambridge Bay Airport
We had the chance to travel to the outskirts of town in a rented van and Jake took time to show the camera and drone equipment to those who were interested in learning. Racing the daylight clock and the short battery life of electronics in the high arctic, we experienced what we could and then headed back to my apartment to end the day together over a warm meal.
Kat and Jake teaching the participants how to fly a drone
The next morning, we met at the classroom and clambered into the back of a kamotik, a type of sled traditionally drawn by a dog team. These days, kamotiks are more often towed behind snowmobiles. In the darkness of an overcast morning, we left for Grenier Lake, the body of water that the Ikaluktutiak region is named after. Out on the tundra, it is easy to get disoriented. David, our guide, spoke of using landmarks and snowdrifts as means for navigation. Along the way, clusters of inuksuit, landmarks for navigation and a means for driving caribou movement, could be seen in passing. The ride itself was exhilarating, the sled bumping and tilting its way over the rocky tundra.
Kamotik used for travelling to Grenier Lake
Grenier Lake sits about 45 minutes from town by snowmobile and sled. In what direction exactly, I’m not sure. Outside of town, the tundra very quickly evolved into an expansive white abyss, creating a fragile balance between breathtaking and unforgiving. We set up an old canvas tent and David fired up a stove. These were the only sources of heat and solace from the elements outside. The day remained overcast and the only hint of sun was through a haze.
Camp at Grenier Lake
David taught the group how to chisel holes into the ice, and make fishing jiggers.
Participants chiseling holes with a tuuk and using a pauti to remove the iceParticipant using an ice jigger
There were stories shared over the darkest, sludgiest coffee and stew so badly burnt that one student stated it ‘tasted like black.’ There were a few traditional Inuit games played to stay warm, and writing in the snow atop the dark, thick ice. There was spinning and silliness and laughter, lots of it. There was also peace, a serenity in the quiet solitude of the land.
Playing Ayakaaq, traditional Inuit game in the tent
There were no fish caught that day at Grenier Lake and that’s okay. The entire purpose of this event was dedicated to reconnection through experience.
Participant ice jigging
As we round into the final week of our pre-employment training program, the group continues to demonstrate their drive and determination to learn through and with each other.
Graduation is in a week from today and it is a strange feeling to be both running full-steam ahead and feeling the wind-down of such a truly rewarding experience. Time has a wonderful way of showing us what truly matters in life and I am feeling a deep gratitude for everything I have learned through this exceptional group of vibrant young adults.
It’s been a long week and I went for a walking tour around the bay today. Tonight, I will let the photos tell their own stories. It has been an exciting few weeks and I hope to share the rest very soon.
Every morning when I leave the apartment, I look left down Omingmak Street toward the shoreline and search for any hint of sunlight greeting the open waters of the bay. There hasn’t been much sun since my arrival but daylight length has remained adequate enough that even the most blustery days have given the essence of brightness.
The elusive sunrise
Slowly, slowly, I am adding warmer and more practical clothing to my 500 metre commute to work. First came the crampons. This decision came as a result of a good solid fall in the middle of the icy road. The laughter that overtook me as I lay spread eagle on the ground was a strange scene for the passerbys who asked, in horror, if I was ok. In addition to the crampons, a winter hat joined the party about a week ago and just yesterday, I upgraded from hiking shoes to Baffin boots when I finally admitted to my wet socks that the snow was indeed deeper than my ankles.
The last few days have felt colder. The temperatures are dipping close to -20°C now with windchill and the snow has been unrelenting. I caught my first flu this past weekend since spring of 2016 and it has been a miserable few days, for sure. Yesterday was the first day that felt notably shorter than the rest. My sources at timeanddate.com tell me that each day that passes, Cambridge Bay loses around 8 minutes of daylight.
The open waters of the bay that have previously met my morning glances have started changing. They are becoming still and solid, frozen in time until next summer season. The early winter is beginning to affect other aspects of life in the north. Cambridge Bay was one of three communities to make the news this week after a government-run barge, carrying millions of dollars worth of personal and municipal supplies, was cancelled after becoming stranded in Tuktoyatuk as a result of heavy sea ice. The communities of Cambridge Bay, Kugluktuk, and Paulatuk rely on this annual barge for delivery of everything from personal food and effects, business and building equipment, water treatment chemicals, hunting supplies, and vehicles.
This isn’t the first time a barge cancellation has affected the Kitikmeot region but it doesn’t make it any less devastating for the 3,000 people residing here. The Kitikmeot Chamber of Commerce held a meeting tonight in Cambridge Bay and is working hard to identify the next steps needed to advocate for its community members.
If you’re interested in reading more, additional information can be found at Global News, CBC, and National Post.
What does it take to set-up an, essentially, pop-up classroom?
The classroom space for this year’s intake of the program is located inside a local lodge. The conference room is spacious enough to include the participant’s workspaces and a small, makeshift kitchen area. There is also lots of natural light (while the light lasts, of course).
First impressions
When I initially entered the classroom, my mind filled with ideas for the potential of this space. A project like this takes an incredible amount of effort from those working astutely behind the scenes and a few very busy beavers at the office in Ottawa had been working diligently in the weeks leading up to my departure, packing and shipping 11 well-secured boxes of classroom supplies. As I cut away layers of packing tape, unpacked, organized, (re-organized), and set-up, I began to realize just how much detail was involved in the preparation.
My friends, the boxes
Slowly, over the course of my first week, the room began to evolve; supplies found their homes and the classroom layout started taking shape. I believe everything in life is a work in progress so I suspect it will continue to evolve as time goes on.
Slowly, slowly
In addition to the more administrative duties, week one also included applicant intake interviews. A dynamic group of young adults from the community came to meet me to identify their interests, goals, and availabilities for the program. I also hired a Classroom Assistant who, I was excited to learn, was a graduate of last year’s adult program.
Makeshift kitchenHome base for the CA and IIn action, finally!
So, what does it take to set-up a pop-up classroom? Simply, my answer would be an open space, a small crew of masterful organizers, some creativity, and a whole heck of a lot of packing tape.
I find myself annoyingly systematic in the way that I approach and complete specific tasks in life. Unfortunately, writing has fallen victim to this trait and this has made the process of posting quite slow. So, while I have been poking away at a couple of concurrent blog updates, I have just not had the time nor the energy this week to finish them. In the meantime, shall we talk about the weather?
An evening flurry turned into a full-blown winter morningThose overcast clouds held many more days of snowA quick peek outside to assess the dangerIn my elementWhen the snow stopped, the world looked like this!
I dipped my hands into the chilly waters of the Northwest Passage yesterday, the clear seawater flowing between them as I swirled my fingers around. I have been dreaming of that one moment for months now (years maybe, if I include the moment I fell in love with Billy Connolly’s Journey to the Edge of the World), and it still feels so surreal. The first snow of the season came last night, just following my own arrival and I am reminded that time is quickly running out for these small acts of indulgence.
Northwest Passage at Cambridge Bay, Nunavut
The flight in was a two-day excursion with a layover in Edmonton and transfer in Yellowknife before landing in Cambridge Bay. This flight marked significant progression toward my goal to see Canada from coast to coast to coast. As it remains, I have only the Pacific Ocean and the Yukon left to visit (though, if I am being honest with myself, I know the Northwest Territories have more to offer than just the Yellowknife Airport).
Landing in Yellowknife
I find the tundra fascinating; barren and rugged, the treeless land appears to carry on forever and ever. The brisk winds have been a welcome change but harsh adjustment on my skin which had become unwillingly acclimatized to Ontario’s extremely hot and humid summer. It took only a day before I had to apply crack cream (for heels!) to my hands and two days before I had to use it on my face! Hey – don’t knock it ‘til you try it!
Perspective
Mini-exploration aside, there is much to do before the program starts and the next few days will be filled with outreach and interviews and the creation of a classroom space. However, with all of this walking around, the wet dirt roads of Cambridge Bay have turned my pants into an artful masterpiece of white splotches and splatters so first thing’s first: I need to find some rubber boots!
I did not expect my road trip with cats to go so smoothly. With the exception of a few manic moments and the temptation to join a motorcycle gang, Mabel’s desire to explore overrode her desire to protest and Sam, now old and extra lazy, slept for the entire 1,900 kilometres.
I am convinced that the Chicheemaun was Mabel’s absolute favourite part of this journey and this was evidenced by her commanding of the crowds in the loading line, her great harness escape and attempted beeline to the fish and chip stand, and her Queen of the Chicheemaun approach to the ferry ride to Tobermory. There, she proudly sat in a passenger seat, shamelessly attracting the young and old from near and far, beckoning them to her side for personal affirmation and affection.
Old man Sam, on the other hand, cowered beneath a jacket on my lap.
Her Majesty prepares for an audience
At long last, the months of anticipation for this program finally came together when our instructor group met on Wednesday to review the curriculum. Five pre-employment programs will be running across different communities in Nunavut and I consider myself extremely lucky to have been chosen for one of the two youth programs. This experience will not be without its challenges but I am feeling so excited and inspired.
As part of the youth program curriculum, there will be the creation of a film or documentary. The students will learn to use film equipment to capture clips and b-roll footage and create a narrative of their choosing to bring it all together. Any kind of assignment that allows for this much creative freedom will make for an incredible learning opportunity and I cannot wait to share this experience with the participants.
In just over three weeks, I’ll be heading north (way north) to Cambridge Bay, Nunavut.
The last four months have been ones of preparation, training, reading, and packing with a surprise hernia surgery thrown into the mix. The last six weeks of recovery have gone relatively well and it’s nearly go-time now. In the remaining few weeks before I fly north, there are a few loose ends to tie up in Ottawa so Sam, Mabel, and I will be on our longest road trip ever together to do just that.
There is a quote by late writer and wildlife photographer, Roger Caras that states, “cats don’t like change without their consent,” so I have to assume that by their collective willingness to walk on leashes, act as enthusiastic backseat drivers, and poop in a moving vehicle, Sam and Mabel’s consent is informed.
0% class, 100% sass
Stay tuned for that little pre-adventure-adventure; I’m sure it’ll be an interesting one.
exploraborealis 