I was focusing on a particularly anomalous climatic event, which was the winter of 2010-2011. This winter was off the charts in terms of instrumental data: ambient temperatures were significantly warme, it rained in February when it was supposed to be the coldest time of year and—for the first time on record—the open water season exceeded the sea ice season.All this to say, I was in the territorial capital of Iqaluit, Nunavut, to get hands-on research about how these bizarre environmental conditions in the Arctic affected the Inuit traditional food system. What I wasn't expecting to learn, however, was the significance of those effects first-hand, by tagging along during a hunting trip.Related: Canada's Plans For the Arctic Don't Include the Environment
Preparing the gamotik. Image: Sara Statham
On a frigid winter morning in 2011, I geared up for the -30°C weather. This was no easy feat, and involved an astonishing amount of gear—for me at least. I wore -100°C rated snow boots; Levi wore rubber boots. I wore a fleece-lined toque; Josh wore his beloved Boston Bruins hat. I wore down-filled snow pants; Levi wore surprisingly stylish embroidered jeans. I wore a Canada Goose Expedition parka; Josh wore a homemade pullover. I wore air-tight goggles; Levi wore sunglasses. I wore a neoprene face mask; Josh wore a goatee.I could go on, but the point is this: there is something to be said about the physiological adaptation of Inuit to harsh climactic conditions. Because they are tough as nails.For many Canadians, the Inuit seal hunt is somewhat enigmatic and decidedly controversial
Approaching the floe edge. Image: Sara Statham
Preparing to paddle to gather shot seal. Image: Graham McDowell
Checking the ice with a harpoon. Image: Graham McDowell
Preparing a shot from the floe edge. Image: Graham McDowell
Safely pulling a hunter in. Image: Sara Statham
Harpooning a seal after being shot during a hunting trip last summer. Image: Sara Statham.