Working in Iqaluit: Winter Edition

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I’ve found myself on a trip back to where I’ve been before, Iqaluit Nunavut, but this time in the winter. The purpose of this trip was the same as the last, primarily contributing to mental health services as a psychiatric nurse in a community with some unique issues. I was definitely looking forward to the true Arctic experience this time around complete with snow and cold. As I hopped on the plane towards my first stop in Ottawa, I was hoping that the travel process was going to be smoother this time around. Luckily, I had something to look forward to, and that was seeing some good friends, Keks and Dobes, who were visiting Montreal, but agreed to meet me for some good times.

And good times were had. It was nice to get out and about in Ottawa, considering the temperature was a nice introduction to what the Great White North would have in store. It was about -20 when Dobes threw out the idea of skating along the canal, which I was all over, despite the fact that she planned on bringing their new French bulldog puppy, Reggie along for the ride, which turned out to bring its own challenges. As we stepped out on our adventure, Keks asked if I was wearing my long johns. Unfortunately the naivety of being used to west coast winters came out in true force, and of course I wasn’t. My first 6 years in Winnipeg winters were long forgotten. Although it was definitely cold, we managed to take shifts with two of us skating along the canal, while one would stay in the warming hut snuggling with Reggie; it was far too cold for him to come out skating. The night ended with a few drinks, Denny’s, and many laughs. Sadly, it had to come to an end as it was time for my northern adventure. However, not before I nearly slept through my final boarding call at the gate. Did I mention good times were had?

I stepped off the plane in Iqaluit to a balmy -16 quite comfortably dressed in a pea coat, scarf, no long johns (again) and no head or ear protection. I regrettably decided that this Arctic cold was a myth. I was greeted by my colleague who I thought was awfully overdressed in his full length Arctic Goose down jacket, complete with Sorel boots and a toque. He took me to my accommodations where I’d be staying for the next month, a townhouse complex uniquely called “The White Row”. I would soon find out that The White Row was a bit rough, as every time someone would ask where I was staying, they would scoff when I gave them the answer. I have no idea where the name comes from, but The White Row has a reputation of catching fire on occasions sometimes as a result of arson. I found this out after I had been woken up my first night at 2:30 in the morning to the next door neighbors smoke alarm. Luckily everything was still standing after it turned off. Despite this, my roommate this time around, a 68 year old TB nurse, made the experience quite comfortable often bringing me home meals from the soup kitchen she volunteered at on weekends, one of them being a delicious caribou stew. I was even lucky enough to have home baked cookies.

Without checking the forecast before I set out on my first morning’s walk to work, partly because I had no internet, I left exactly how I was dressed when I got off the plane: pea coat, scarf, no long johns, no head or ear covering. I figured it was only -16 yesterday. Sadly, I didn’t learn from my introductory experience in Ottawa and as I got a few minutes into my 10 minute walk to work, I realized the way I was dressed was a big mistake. The wind was howling and my ears and face were freezing. I was too far to turn back, so I muscled my way to the Tim Horton’s which is about half way between home and work. I completely froze my ears. After they thawed out a bit, I carried on with the second half of my walk, freezing them again. As I sat down at my desk, ears burning, I checked the forecast and realized it was -42 with the wind-chill. The next couple of days my ears were pretty tender as I definitely had frost bite. Sorry fellow west coasters, I didn’t represent you well. However, third time proved to be a charm and the next morning at -49, I was comfortably bundled up with my down parka, scarf, hood up, sunglasses on, gloved hands in my pockets. It was a far more enjoyable walk this time around. Thankfully, this would be the coldest two days of my trip, but the temperature probably averaged around -25 to -35 depending on wind-chill factors. For all those people back home that said, “Don’t worry, it’s a dry cold,” you have been misinformed. Anything below -25 sucks no matter how dry it is... period. If you have to spend longer than 15 minutes outside and want to be comfortable, you better be dressed for it. However, there are plus sides. The advantages are that the sun is usually shining brighter than I’ve ever seen it down south even in the summer and I did appreciate the freshness the cold brought along with it. It was definitely a novelty once I dressed appropriately. The dry cold also brings unique snow. It’s not the mucky wet stuff we get at home that’s perfect for snowballs, but flour-like fluffy matter that has a unique squeak and crunch when you walk on it making it very difficult to sneak up on someone.

My first weekend in Iqaluit, I managed to have a Friday night out with some people I had met in my last trip, and had another fun night at the good o’l Legion. Unfortunately, I had to work the next morning, so my night had to be a bit more responsible than I was used to. Other evenings had me enjoying wing night, steak night, or fish and chips at either the Legion or Storehouse. But going out with my older aged (haha) colleagues began rubbing off on me and I was usually in bed by 10pm.

I was fortunate enough to observe an Igloo construction outside the visitors centre on a clear Sunday. Although I was a bit late, I saw the Inuit elder and a young Inuit man build it up from about half way to completion. I was fascinated by the process and the sturdiness of the snow blocks as they were methodically put in place. It was interesting to see the elder build it from the inside as his young helper would hand him appropriate sized blocks from the outside. The blocks were such a unique texture that when they rubbed together, I had the feeling of goosebumps as it sounded like someone scratching a chalkboard. They reminded me of Styrofoam. Upon completion I was even able to crawl inside of it. I wasn’t quite able to stand up fully, but it was noticeably warmer inside. It was intriguing to imagine living in this structure as people did hundreds of years ago surviving in this harsh environment. It was humbling to imagine that I could barely last 15 minutes in freezing temperatures, when Inuit had lived and thrived this way for generations. Afterwards, I went inside the visitors centre to warm up and was lucky enough to witness the same elder play a traditional drum (qilaut) and sing a few songs. Although I didn’t understand the words in Inuktitut, it was probably one of the more culturally rich experiences I’ve had up here.

Work had me extremely busy on the weekdays and this time around was different than my last due to the fact that our nurse manager was out of territory, which had Joe, a seasoned, fellow psychiatric nurse and I performing the majority of the duties between the community and the hospital. It made for an extremely rich learning experience and although pace was stressful at times, it was largely invigorating. If I wasn’t working late, the shortened days prevented me from doing much exploring during the week, although there was much more sunlight than I had anticipated.

For the most part, the sun came up around 6-7am and set about 4:30-5pm, although as time went on and due to daylight savings, the sun didn’t set until nearly 7pm as I write this. However, the evenings brought a unique delight that I was dying to see, the Aurora Borealis or Northern Lights. After dinner at the legion, our group began the walk home with a mild green tinge along the horizon. It seemed pretty tame initially, however, as my walk progressed, the green light became brighter and expanded up into the sky. When I got home, I rushed to get my camera to try and get some photos; but I didn’t bring my tripod along on this trip, so the quality of photos didn’t do them justice. However, I managed to hike to a highpoint with limited street lights and spent almost an hour in the cold freezing my toes and fingers, gazing up, and watching the lights dance across the sky in greens and subtle pinks spanning from horizon, overtop of me, to horizon. As I stared in awe, I understood the scientific explanation for the Northern Lights; however, couldn’t help but think of the Inuit connection to spirits of ancestors and animals, which I found easy to relate to.

This left me with only 3 weekends to complete the majority of my daylight exploring and although I walked as much as I could during the summer, I was curious how the landscape differed in the winter. However, due to the temperatures and intimidating aspect of winter, I didn’t venture too far out of town. Nevertheless, I did manage to get out onto the sea ice, which was a distinctive experience. Due to the extreme tidal range of Koojesse Inlet, I wasn’t sure how safe it was, but when I saw snowmobiles and people out there, I figured it was safe enough. Walking above the ocean on a layer of ice was eerie and hearing the ice creak and crack made me begin to wonder just how safe it was. However, the further I went out, the more confident I became and I stumbled upon some packs of sled dogs, which were tied up. I didn’t get too close, but the fact that they were out there in the cold made me question the logic behind it. Unfortunately, I was never able to have that question answered, as the dog sledding expedition I had planned for my final weekend was cancelled due to poor visibility and winds. My other self guided expeditions had me venture up a hill on the edge of town, which had me sweating on a -20, sunny day. It offered some amazing views of Iqaluit and I managed to get a few privileged photographs. My adventures also got me acquainted with the Grind and Brew. I was introduced to it by my colleague, Joe, who also admired the eccentric nature of the coffee shop, which presented the NHL network playing a multitude of games, and many different types of coffee that offered a break from the monotony of Tim Horton’s. It was a great place to warm up, relax after a long day of walking, and enjoy a good cup of coffee.

As I write this, another exceptional and memorable trip is going into the books. Iqaluit is a charming city that isn’t without its unique and troubling problems. I suppose I get a bit of an exclusive, up close and personal encounter that many may miss due to the nature of my business, but despite this, the fondness I have for it is growing. I’ve begun to enjoy the laid back nature of a smaller town, the friendliness that is often neglected in the bigger city, the brightness of the uplifting sunshine. The Inuit people have a fascinating culture, which I still have only scratched the surface of and would like to try and get closer to. It’s with mixed emotions that I welcome my departure and I hope that I have the chance to come back. The progressive work experience combined with the natural beauty of the landscape and intriguing culture offers a lot to yearn for.

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[Sophia Katt]

Iqaluit Airport
This airport was opened in the 1940s.