As arranged, the bags were whisked away by the luggage fairies at 5am and loaded onto a specially chartered small plane to Iqaluit. The reason? All too heavy for the Resolute Bay short runway for takeoffs. Our potions were put into labelled bags for hold stowage and distribution at Ottawa, flying with us. This released us with light packs to saunter the streets of Resolute Bay for the morning. The delights are endless and occupy a full 9 minutes, but the residents are open, generous of their time and interested in conversation. The church was opened and arranged for us so that the sealskin altar - and lectern cloths could be photographed to advantage. The chap who sorted it was pleased to be recognised by me as the one who had come to greet us (Friday 4th August) to Resolute. And the son of the man who had a polar bear skin curing outside his house told us the arrangements for them both and his grandfather to leave today on a fishing trip, for as long as his grandad wanted to. In front of one house, there was an Inuksuk and a tiny 1’ square of lawn, carefully surrounded by stones, the only ‘garden’ in the town. In front of another, there were a hundred strips of beluga meat drying to a glossy black on wooden racks. The ancient bus took us out to the Narwhal Hotel for tea and rather scrummy cookies. We wandered round the scruffy suburbs of this benighted airport, sat in the sun and chatted, played pool, read and generally passed time because the plane was delayed. Then the fog closed in. The plane landed, but there was some disquiet amongst the crew: they knew we wouldn’t be able to leave…Indeed, the incoming passengers, all jauntily decked out in matching waterproofs and eager for tales from we old hands, were unaware that they wouldn’t be leaving the bay, as 15 passengers were still in Ottawa – too much payload. Then the water went off. We ate our in-flight lunches. They arranged the sleeping bags from the ship, then ‘Hoorah!’ -the fog cleared (allegedly...)seven hours later.
I have never heard a more hilarious safety announcement. “For those of you who have not been in an automobile since 1973, please take note of the seatbelt instructions. When the oxygen masks fall from the overhead panels, place the masks over your own heads before those of children or who behave like children. Those of you in the overwing emergency exits – blah blah – and if you think your life is in danger, run like hell, as far away from the plane as you can.”
By the time the bar trolley arrived, at Row 14, there was no G and no T, but a lot of grateful passengers. And of course, we’d eaten our snacks at 6.30. As we descend into Iqaluit, the pilot and his Comic Crew (whom I’ve just seen dancing in the aisle with Niamh from Co. Wicklow in the turbulence) are out of flying hours, so we’ll have to overnight in the capital of Nunavut, where it is dark – something of a novelty…In the far north, not only do they have a one hour time shift, but they work on ‘summer hours’, which optimise the light in their local context e.g. the day starts at 11, to make the working day enjoy full sun if it’s a west-facing slope.
This flight took us to the capital of Nunavut – to Iqaluit. Amazingly, Aaron’s wife had arranged for us to be billeted overnight in the Hall of Residence of the Arctic College. It used to be a barracks but is clean, has lots of hot water, and is available. Some people actually complained! “It’s too hot.” “I’m in a shared room.” “Who’s going to carry my bags?” “Why didn’t we leave the bags at the airport?” “Who’s going to pay for the cab?” (because they didn’t want to wait for the van provided). Breakfast was a whole truckload of sandwiches from Subway. Val & Charlie organised the reception desk, so Adrian thanked Aaron and I arranged the clearing up. What do people think is going to happen to their trash? Iqaluit is just as messy as Resolute Bay, but much bigger and has an art gallery which did roaring trade.