Posted on February 10, 2020 under Monday Morning Musings with no comments yet

Me and Makusi

 

I read somewhere that this quote is attributable to the Inuit – “A long time ago in the future.”

It’s impossible to go to any foreign country and unravel the mysteries of history and culture in a few months. At least that’s what I think. Canada’s north is a mystery to most Canadians. It is not a foreign country. Many of us have read about the north, heard aboriginal/indigenous speakers, and have watched movies and documentaries about the north. I can tell you, that until you’ve come here and experienced it firsthand, you can’t truly appreciate this precious Canadian jewel.

I’m into my fourth month in Northern Quebec. I have eaten raw beluga and caribou stew. I have made seal rib stew. I have met some extraordinary people. I have seen the Northern Lights. But I have barely scratched the surface in terms of understanding the north.

Last Friday, I got a glimpse.

A few classes in the school, including mine, were invited to go on a seal hunt. In parts of the south and in many parts of the world, the mere words “seal hunt” conjure up images, many of them negative. In the arctic, hunting is a way of life. It is not a sport.

The services of several experienced hunters and guides were enlisted to take staff and students out on this expedition. The conditions were ideal. It was sunny and cold but not windy. Each guide was driving a skidoo, pulling a sled behind it. Because I was considered an “elder”, I got to sit on a comfortable seat with a back rest, behind my driver, Makusi.

In order to get to the open waters of Ungava Bay, it is necessary to cross a chain of lakes separated by tundra. To suggest that the surface of these lakes is bumpy is an understatement. The hunters have managed to carve a path across the uneven terrain. If I had been forced to sit in the sled at the back, I am certain that I would have ended up in traction at the local clinic.

We stopped halfway to our destination so that everyone could get out and stretch. It happened to be next to a big snow- covered hill. Several of the students bounded from their sleds and headed for the hill for an impromptu slide.

Ungava Bay could be seen off in the distance. As we exited the last lake, the guides gathered for a meeting. They couldn’t see any open water where the seals would be found. A few days earlier, there was open water not far from where we were stopped but now this was partially frozen and too dangerous to traverse. A few guides went off alone to check for open water and luckily found a spot not far from where we were situated.

One of the guides grabbed his unaq (harpoon) and walked carefully and knowingly towards the open water, poking the ground every few feet. He stopped when he found the spot where it would be safe enough to stand without going through the ice. While he was doing this, the other guides were setting up lean-to’s and tents so that there would be shelter for anyone who might get cold.

A few of the hunters grabbed their rifles and walked towards the water. A few shots rang out indicating that there were seals in the bay. Gradually, the rest of the entourage was able to join the hunters. We watched as the guides patiently surveyed the bay, peering into a bright afternoon sun. Shots were fired but, on this day, the seals proved to be elusive. In fairness, the hunters were several hundred yards away from their intended targets.

While the hunt was going on, the students and staff had lunch. Some of the young people played soccer on the frozen ice while several hiked up a nearby mountain.

At one point, I was the only person standing beside one of the hunters. Everyone else was off doing their own thing. It was very tranquil. We hadn’t spotted a seal in some time. He told me that all the noise had probably spooked the seals. Normally, the hunters stand in perfect silence.

As the sun made its way across the sky, the colors of land, sea, and mountains seemed to change almost imperceptibly. There wasn’t a breath of air. I was experiencing the north at its finest and felt this immense attraction to the land.

Most of us wonder from time to time, when we are going to die, where we are going to die and how we are going to die. This is not morbid fascination. It is human nature.

I knew we were probably less than an hour away from departing for home. I turned to Makusi and told him that I wanted to walk across Ungava Bay alone and have him pick me up on his way. He smiled and handed me the unaq. “Take this. You might need it.”

I started walking towards home along the skidoo path, clutching the unaq. Honestly, I wasn’t afraid of confronting a polar bear, as bizarre as that sounds, but I was certainly vigilant. Every once in a while, I would hold the unaq in a defensive stance wondering how my last day on the planet might unfold!

Mostly, I felt intense peace.

A long time ago in the future, I walked across Ungava Bay.

Alone.

Have a great week.

Posted on February 6, 2020 under Thursday Tidbits with no comments yet

Yet another moving experience

 

“There are places I’ll remember, all my life though some have changed,
Some forever not for better, some have gone, and some remain,
All these places had their moments…”
In My Life. The Beatles

“Len. How is it possible to write 747 words about nothing? You have been writing these posts for nine years. Today is the 1080 th. Not only that but your readers must be awfully bored to keep reading stories about the most mundane things humanly possible. Surely everyone doesn’t live dull, uninteresting lives.”

This quote is not attributable to anyone in particular. Actually, I ask myself the same question over and over as I did on my early morning walk the other day.

If you are really bored, keep reading. Otherwise, you might want to go and do something meaningful like feed your cat or empty the compost bucket.

Yes. After three months, I have finally figured out how to get back to my early morning strolls. The solution was quite simple. Instead of going to the school at 6:30 every day to plan my day, I have decided to spend a good chunk of Sundays at school planning a week’s worth of lessons. I still must confine my walks to the town. The mornings remain dark and it is simply not safe to go wandering on the frozen lakes and the tundra alone. If you suffered a medical emergency, especially in these cold temperatures, you would be in big trouble. Recent polar bear sightings have also garnered my attention.

I’m on the move again. When I signed on for this teaching assignment, I was told that I would be living in a spanking new fourplex adjacent to the school. However, I was also told that it would not be completed until the new year, hence my temporary stay in my current apartment.
Well, I got the news last weekend that the building had been completed and was ready for occupancy so I will move into my new digs this weekend.

It seems like my life has been one giant moving experience. Maybe this is what attracted me to the Inuit people, long known for their nomadic way of life.

How many times in your life have you changed addresses and key chains?

I started to make a list and got quite embarrassed and stopped at 15.

Fifteen. Seriously?

My epic journey through life started with the two houses I occupied as a child on Hillcrest Street. Now, I am about to move into my second apartment in three months. I know you’re not bored enough to read about all fifteen (actually the number is now 17 with the two apartments in Kangiqsujuaq) but a few stand out. Back in the early 70s, I lived in a very old, rundown apartment complex in Victoria, B.C. I can clearly recall that the rent was $85 a month. If you had seen the apartment you might think that I got ripped off. Here’s a recap of life in the “Bongo Pad”. https://www.week45.com/the-bongo-pad/

I have lived in houses, Co-op apartments and one winter, a chalet down by the ocean. I have lived alone, and I have lived with others. I have lived in the hottest places imaginable (can you say India?) ,and now one of the coldest – the arctic. I’ve lived with cats and dogs, and in some of the less refined places, mice! Every house or apartment has a story.

However, I feel I’m not quite done yet. While I still feel young most days, the aches and pains accumulate over time and the synapses aren’t firing quite as quickly as they once did. There’s a pretty good chance that the second last home I’ll occupy will be a nursing home. There was a time that the thought of a nursing home would make me recoil but having seen the care my mother received in her final days and my own experience doing music in a nursing home, I no longer feel this way. I also have dear friends who work in these homes. They are simply among the finest people you can imagine.

In my hometown, the largest nursing home is strategically located between two funeral homes. When my time comes, I won’t have to go far to reach my last stop of the journey.

At least I won’t have to pack!

Have a great weekend.

P.S. By the time some of you late risers read this, I will be “out on the land”. A few classes in the school, including mine, are going out on a seal hunt today. My next Monday Morning Musings could prove to be interesting. I hope it will get your seal of approval.

Posted on February 3, 2020 under Monday Morning Musings with no comments yet

 

 

 

 

Paul Zizka. World class photographer and new friend

 

I have been called many things, some of them not fit for print.

These days, old, bald, irascible and impatient are all worthy monikers. When you’re closing in on 70 you rarely hear adjectives like spry, serene or sensitive. It comes with the turf, or in my case these days, it comes with the tundra.

A friend who lives in Scotland gave me a new handle the other day: ethnographer. I must admit I had to go scrambling to the dictionary. So, bear with me as I give you the definition. Ethnography is a research method that comes from the discipline of anthropology. Ethnography is the in-depth study of a culture or a facet of a culture. An ethnographer not only observes the phenomenon under study, but also becomes a participant in daily life.

I much prefer ethnographer to curmudgeon… or arsehole!

I guess my six- month travels in India, in some small measure, qualifies me as an ethnographer and this latest stint up north adds to my resume.

Of course, travel is all about the people you meet. Yes, the world had spectacular things to see but listening to the stories of people you meet from far flung places is what gets my juices going.

I knew when I came to Northern Quebec, I would meet some amazing people and, on this score, I haven’t been disappointed. I’m just scratching the surface but I’m starting to get to know a few of the elders in this beautiful Inuit community of Kangiqsujuaq.
What I didn’t expect was to meet some famous Canadians like Clara Hughes and Jordin Tootoo.

Last week, I received a message from my son who mentioned that a famous photographer was up in my neck of the woods. Paul Zizka is no ordinary photographer. He is a friend and colleague of my extraordinarily talented nephew, Dave Brosha. https://zizka.ca/

According to Dave, “Paul Zizka is not only one of Canada, but the planet’s best astro photographers. But to call him only a night photographer would be to diminish the fact that that he’s a world class educator and landscape photographer. He is exceptionally skilled at wildlife photography, and, most importantly, one of the nicest and kindest humans out there that you could ever hope to come across. He’s the real deal and I’m proud to call him one of my best friends.”

Dave was able to connect with me with Paul and I sat down with him for an hour before school one day last week. A Quebec native, he completed his undergraduate degree in geology at UVIC and then went off to Iceland where he did a solo 1400 kilometer walk back and forth across the country. This kind of makes my Camino walk seem like a Sunday stroll. He has travelled to all seven continents. He is married and lives in Banff with his wife and two daughters, when he’s not globetrotting.

With his vast experience and travels to some of the remotest places on the planet, I was curious to know what Paul has gleaned about the place we call earth. He feels that people have lost touch with the most precious resource we have – the land. More and more of the world is becoming urbanized which keeps people away from the land. One of his greatest joys is when he takes clients out on the land as part of a workshop. Stressed out executives and Type A people start to breathe and relax once they get out of the rat race and experience the wonder and serenity that only nature can provide.

The more I thought about this encounter, it made sense that I met Paul in Kangiqsujuaq and not Montreal or Vancouver. As Dave said, he’s a great guy and I felt very honored to spend time with this exceptional Canadian.

I met with a parent last week after school to discuss the progress of his child. When the meeting ended, I had a chance to talk to him about other things, specifically his Montreal Canadiens toque. We had a spirited conversation about Les Habitants. His only regret is that he never got to see a game at the old Forum in Montreal. He’s going to take me fishing one of these days.

I am happy, and quite lucky, to be called an ethnographer.

It beats some of the alternatives!!!

Have a great week.