|
|
The village of Qeqerstat is situated on a tiny island. Lonnie Dupre said it would take 15 minutes to circle the whole town and one hour to walk the whole island. The town consists basically of one big family with the last name of Duneq. Lonnie ran into an old friend there he had met 23 years before on his first visit to Greenland. Photos courtesy of Lonnie Dupre
Lonnie Dupre’s three months return trip to Greenland has been going well. After reuniting with old friends, Lonnie has been assembling a dogsled team, and training the dogs for the next big adventure. Dupre and his crew of film makers and adventurers have been busy. Now they are counting on Butch, Scout, Charley ll, Midnight, Jumpy, Blacky, Fritz, Jack, Max, Guster, Shila, Jasper and Theo to pull their weight, pulling sleds loaded with gear and the team. And so far, so good.
It’s been two decades since Lonnie and fellow explorer John Hoelscher completed a three-year, 6,500-mile circumnavigation of Greenland by dog sled and kayak.
Over those twenty years, plenty has changed, both culturally and environmentally, said Lonnie. So, Lonnie and a team of five highly skilled arctic explorers left on Saturday, January 15, traveling back to the land of ice and snow to document those changes.
And, said Dupre, “It’s time to go back and visit old friends and make some new ones.”
One of the big things that Lonnie Dupre and his crew had to do when they arrived in Greenland was to buy dogs and then train them so they could pull sleds across the vast distances in this frozen land. Above, this is one of the powerful dogs that will pulls sleds operated by Lonnie or one of his five crew over the next month or so.
Sharing the trip with Dupre are Pascale Marceau, team leader; Scott Cocks, in charge of navigation, gear and logistics; Jayme Dittmar, photographer, filmmaker, dog musher; and Tine Lisby Jensen, who has lived in Greenland and has vast knowledge of the Polar Inuit culture.
Dupre and his team assembled a great dog team—borrowing dogs from elders—and then Lonnie, Pascale and Tine made a three-day journey to Qeqeertat, a tiny remote island town of about 25. They traveled down Inglefield Fjord.
“The ice on the fjord was flat as a tabletop with no snow to speak of making it easy for the dogs to haul our load. Temps hovered around -30F with no wind but felt colder on fingers and face,” Lonnie wrote in his blog post.
Before they reached the village of narwal hunters who use harpoons thrown from hand-built kayaks to capture their prey, they stopped and stayed in a hut that Lonnie and Tine had stayed in 23 years ago.
“The floor of the hut was dark and shiny from decades of marine mammal fat tracked in on hunter’s boots,” wrote Lonnie in his blog. “We soon had the 10 feet by 10-foot shack heated with our camp stoves. We hung our damp and frosted clothes on lines strung across the ceiling, names of locals etched in the plywood walls. Behind the shack were signs of a recent successful caribou hunt with blood and fur off-setting the white snow. The next day we pulled into Qeqertat situated on a tiny Island. At first it is hard to believe anyone could live here year-round as it would take 15 minutes to circle the town and an hour to walk the whole island. Just in front of the village were caches of frozen seals on top of the fjord ice, later to be thawed as food for people and dogs. The hides will later be used for mittens and footwear.
“The village had not changed much except for a new generator system which supplies modest dwellings with electricity. They had built a new store, slightly bigger than the old one, at about 16 feet wide by 24 feet long. A dozen weather-beaten houses peppered the uneven ledge rock, sled dogs took up the rest of the spaces. Some had lights shining from inside and others seemed vacant.
“I brought blown up images of people I took in the village 23 years ago to give as gifts to whoever we may find. The town basically consists of one big family with the last name of Duneq. Soon after we arrived, a man in his late 40’s named Qitdlogtoq came over with a big smile and hug and saying “Lonnie”. Surprised, to hear my name, I finally realized he was a hunter I had spent time on a dog sled journey to Siorapaluk. We laughed about the old days and mishaps we’d had, as well as the obvious fact that we are getting older. He shared pictures of his family. I then realized that his wife is the daughter of Benigne…who I refer to as my Inuit Grandmother. Qitdlogtoq never forgot about the two dogs I gave him as a gift two decades ago and offered me his best dog for my journeys ahead.”
The dogs of winter
“Greenlandic dogs are scarcer now, as the Inuit hunter is slowly becoming a thing of the past. This town used to have over 1000 dogs and only has a fraction of that now. The Inuit hunters that Lonnie knew from 20 years ago are getting older and slowly retiring, few of the younger generation are taking it up. Switching from hunting to fishing – choosing snowmobiles over sled dogs.
“Our dogs came from a couple of different owners who are getting older and had to make the big decision to move on from running dogs. It’s a loss of their identity – being a hunter is who they are. In fact, there was no Inuktun word for “man” when a boy was born, he was a hunter. It’s bittersweet really – akin to older folks losing their driving license; their independence to get around easily and on their own whim. The dogs were not being run much and needed some fattening up, so we’ve been doing just that. LOTS of food and fat and now some training runs. We will have them ready for the big journey north on March 8th!”
Leave a Reply