soldiers fill the hotels on the weekend...
It's snowing here again, today. It's the wispy, unsure kind of snow. It doesn't know whether it's coming or going. It falls in small waves, the wind buffetting the fragile flakes around like New Years confetti. I've been watching it through one of my office windows, while I attend to things at work. The appearance of snow tells my brain that I ought to be putting up christmas lights, and shopping for and wrapping presents. But my logical sense (which has been known to be faulty) kicks in and reminds me that it's only the middle of September.

Still, though. I've been thinking about starting to plan for the holidays. Not the buying and wrapping of presents, but booking airfare and the time off to go home. When I first got here, I said I wouldn't go home for Christmas. But now that I'm here, I think; why the fuck not? So, seat sales, and credit limits have been floating around in my head for the past week or so.

A couple of weeks ago, a friend and I had driven out past the village limits to take a look at the whale that had been caught in early August (while I was away on vacation). There wasn't much left to see, except for a few rib bones and the jaw bone. The jaw was angled on the ground so that it pointed towards the sky, the knuckle bigger than a basketball, completely picked clean of any flesh.

What was left of the whale, looked like industrial waste. What had once been shiny black skin stretched over a 44 foot Bowhead whale was now in tatters. It shrunk back over the blubber that was a surprising shade of orange, reminding me of insulation one puts in their attics. the bones that were left behind were scattered around, some parts of the vertebrae and others appearing to be rib bones which looked smaller than one would imagine.

I took some photos and noticed several hills of gravel marked with posts, all lined up in a row that went down the beach. I was told that is where the majority of the whale meat has been buried in order to ferment. The locals will dig it up at Christmas time. Fermented meat is apparently a delicacy in these parts.

When someone mentioned the annual whale hunt to me, pictures of the shiny black tail fin flipped up out of the water came to mind. Along with images of the body, beached on it's side. Complete. Whole. I was disappointed that I had missed this annual event, but am confident that I will be here next year for the hunt.

I just can't get the idea of the black tail fin, wet and shiny from the water, out of my mind. Like a hand, waving good bye.


Jacksonville Skyline - Whiskeytown

Labels: 'North', Arctic, Arctic Circle, snow, traditional hunting, weather, whale, whales

The lights don’t go out until about 10 at night. I’ve been intending to write a real entry for about a week, but I figured that since I wasn’t around a reliable internet connection that I would wait until then to post.

But things have been running through my mind and I just feel like putting it down somewhere, no matter whether or not anyone else would ever read it. I figured I could be a private minded female version of Hemmingway, or Thoreau.

I’m in Hall Beach, Nunavut now. I’ve settled (mostly) into my new home and I seem to spend a lot of time looking out the windows at the other houses, the people walking by, the way the light hits the snow makes a white line of the horizon.

The one constant thing I’ve seem to cling to is the music I’ve been carrying with me. Pete Yorn in my ears, Matt Good, a song called Apple Orchard by a band called Beach. The music makes me a little home sick but at the same time, it’s comforting. It’s like hearing everything for the first time. Again. And again.

The weather is like a warm December. Light snow, a sun that seems to feel like it belongs on a Hawaiian beach then above the Arctic circle. It really is incredible to see and feel.

On my way to work, I listen to Safe and Sound by Hawksley Workman. I can picture the trees, the colour of the leaves, the way the sleepy towns look when you drive through...his music is so visual to me.

My plane rides were annoying (stewardess craziness) and I was travel-weary when I finally arrived in Hall Beach (I had spent a week in another community in Nunavut prior to getting here) and was tired of packing and unpacking. Unpacking my blankets for the last time (hopefully for awhile) is a very nice feeling.

One area of interest is the DEW line up here. Just google it and see what you come up with. I am now, your first line of defense...*grin*

Labels: Arctic Circle, cold, hawksley workman, music, Nunavut, Pete Yorn, snow