ADVENTURE IN ESKIMO-LAND

Wanganui Chronicle, Volume 79, Issue 200, 27 August 1935, Page 10

ADVENTURE IN ESKIMO-LAND

WHEN THE WARMING SUN AND WIND OPEN THE PACK AND THE WHALERS NEARLY DRIFT TO SEA

Ci’HOUL was over i’or the year and 1 was alone in the nearly deserted Eskimo village—for companions, only a handful of women and children and a lev very old men whose hunting days were over, says Elizabeth Chabot. Forrest in the Boston “.Monitor.” “The Big Oomiak” was camped with Kotook’s whaling crew at the edge of a. flaw a dozen miles .from shore for the* spring hunting. Far out on the horizon bung a dark cloud that indicated open water, and between it and lhe tundra’s rim stretched a chaos of glittering ire, covering water fathoms deep. The dog team trail, a discoloured thread winding across lliu whiteness to vanish in the pack, connected the village with the open water —the Eskimo’s larder, well stocked at this season of the year with walrus, seal and whale. The previous evening a native had brought in word that “the Big Oomalik’s” bread was gone and the coal oil for his Primus stove was low. Knowing that the straight meat diet of the Eskimo soon grows monotonous to the civilised palate, upon receipt of my husband’s message I at once started evaporated potato yeast and set y about making bread. All night, while brilliant sunlight from the southwest windows flooded my kitchen and the village noises went on undiminishod about the schoolhouse, I kneaded bread, fried dough nuts, and baked cinnamon rolls. When they were finished I left the kitchen full of fragrant good things, pulled on reindeer boots and parka, and went out into the village in search of a messenger. Each day at least one dog team driven by women and girls w T ent out to open water to bring the hunters’ harvest in to the ice cellars of the village. To-day, however, luck was against me. On hands and knees I crept into one snow hallway after another, pushed under heavy dogskin curtains, opened tiny driftwood doors into sod-covered igloos. Without success. No one was going out upon the ice. Walking home across the cristed snow that scintillated rainbow irridescenee, f reached a sudden resolution. Earle should no go breadless another day: I would go out myself. Though it was late May and the day was mild, I dressed warmly, for har h experience had taught me to prepare for any sort of weather in the Arctic; socks of fawnskin, fur in, on my bare feet; boots of reindeer legs with the hair the sole turned in to form a thick, warm pad under the foot;* over my woollen union suit a man’s flannel shirt, and trousers of short-haired summer deerskins, tauned by my friend and neighbour. Tooluk, to velvet softness; a short, lightweight parka of muskrat over all. and wool gloves on my hands, red fox mittens on a yarn cord about my neck completed my ensemble. When f emerged from the schoolhouse

with their harnesses over my i.rm, our sled dogs sprang from the roofs of their snow houses and began to lunge and scream, wild to be off, while every oilier sled dog in the village followed suit. Although it was by now 5 o’clock in (he morning, a ' cvy of half-grown boys and girls who had not yet gone Io bed appeared instantly to give me a hand with the dugs. Amid a pandemonium of 200 screaming dogs, of rail ling chains and shouting youngsters we got the sled loaded and the fixe dogs harnessed txvo abreast, with Ekluk in the lead. .1 took my place firmly on the protruding rear runners of Hie sled, my heljmrs loosened their grip on the dogs, and we xverc oil: flying through lhe village with the steel teeth of the brake futilely tearing up a cloud of snow behind; hurtling from tundra edge lo frozen beach; and off along the trail that wound into the pack. Fur a time the dogs, wild with delight at being loosened from their stakes, traxelled at breakneck pace, cars eagerly pricked forxvard, tails waving aloft, one after another emitting sharp little yips of joy that spurred the whole team to fresh bursts of speed. On the level flat we had fine going, smooth ice, covered with crusted snow. But between the flats lay heaps of shattered ice, ami pressure ridges upreared 30 feet against the sky. Through these the trail was roughly hewn. On such a trail one’s nerve and muscle are taxed to their utmost the sled bounding from cake to cake, careen ing around sharp bends, scraping betxveen jutting point aijd pinnacle of ice. A hour’s travel and the dogs had lost their first exuberance, settled down to a rhythmic trot that sent the miles slipping steadily beneath the steel-shod runners. Perched on one of the handle-bars, I relaxed and looked about me at the deep blue boulders frosted over xvith white, the vast cakes precariously uptilted. Through the thick black glasses that protected my eyes. I saw, on every side, mute evidence of Ihe terrific power of Arctic ice fields. The day was pleasantly warm, 30 above zero, and the dogs in their shaggy coats jogged slowly now. About us lay bluewhite glitter, profound silence. No other living thing was visible. The ice pack was like some great, ruthless monster that lies, claws momentarily sheathed, basking and purring in the sunshine. And then abruptly the serenity of the scene was shattered. Before us a sinister black line cut our pathwax’. The dogs crouched, whimpering, at the crack. They knew its evil portent as well as I. An off-shore wind had opened the pack at an old, snow filled crevice. The •field of ice beyond it, the field on which the whaling crews were camped, was moving out to sea. It would go slowly and insidiously. Before the men camped on its farther edge discovered that they were adrift, they would have floated far from the stationary ice along the shore. Between, would lie a mass of churning cakes

nilll kiule-sliiirp eilgo, no plnco lo ri.-k a frail sKin bum. pedant eyes; rcailj al a word to iia.-n aooui and scamper Daciv lu salely. i>ui xviia urgent voice I turned mm Mcunanl. I iciiidling with terror, lie sprang across Hie cracK that, cradled fuller lalnoins deep, mid v.e were off along Inc Irail beyond. I stripped off my parka and ran behind the sled, mg ing the dugs to greater speed. Une thougul was uppermost, in my mind. ,supposu I should find a wider crack ahead!’ e womd be trapped on a floating !|oe, not even a skin boat to turn 10. But \> e had to ta ku that chance. I'he hnnli i must be warned. The dogs scraniided up a glassy ridge, went sliding <lo\. n its other side, ami theie al. the loot was what 1 feared to find. A seeoml black strip cut the whiteness. For a nioinent it looked as though we had reach cd the end of our trail. Then, 20 yards to the north, I saw a crossing, a cake jammed sideways in the crack. Across this uncertain bridge the dogs crept timidly, and ou we went. Coaxing, commanding, pleading, at last we lurched through a wall of shatter ed ice and came out upon an open flat, with, right before us. a tent grey against a barrier of ice, and beyond that, the black of open water. Before the tent, Kotook’s crew, my husband in their midst, sat on walrus hides about a Primus stove, on which a huge bb"k pot was steaming. All slouched at ease, secure, relaxed in the bright sunshine, while beyond them the water lapped softly against the edge of the ice, and above the water loons, pintails and cider ducks streamed northward. Into this placid scene 1 burst, and hurled my warning, “The ice has broken!’’ Instantly, all was orderly confusion. The tent was struck; the dunnage and whaling gear were loaded into the skin oomiak upon the boat sled; and we set out at a brisk trot for *the shore. For six tense hours we back-tracked over a distance it had taken me but two to cover. Again and again wo came to open water, loaded dogs and sled into the boat, and worked our way with infinite caution through turning, grinding cakes of ice, ono touch of which would rip our sealskin craft wide open. At last a shout of joy rose from the men. “Ad-re-gah! Ko-yeh-nah!” “Fine! we ari* thankful! ” We had reached the “big ridge”—grounded ice fused with the drifting fields of the fall to form a solid muss. Here we were safe. Panting, wet with perspiration, the men flung themselves down on skins upon the snow, got out the Primus slovi's, and put on pots of clear blue ice to molt for hot water. I opened my grub box, and how tin* brown faces beamed- at sight of the good bread and rolls! Presently, our tea was ready. Then, each with a steaming c.up in hand, there among the glittering ice piles, under the open sky. we bowed our heads while old Ncakok, in his native gut.terals. gave thanks for the good food and our deliverance from danger.