PEOPLE
Northern Exposure
Meet the warm and welcoming people who live in one of the most inhospitable places on Earth, the Torngat Mountains.
WORDS & IMAGES CATHERINE BEST
PEOPLE
Northern Exposure
Meet the warm and welcoming people who live in one of the most inhospitable places on Earth, the Torngat Mountains.
WORDS & IMAGES CATHERINE BEST
Image caption.
We’re being watched. On a ridgeline high above the pebbled beach a man stands taut, rifle slung across his back, eyes trained on the shore. It’s high summer and the northern sun dances across the sea in a cobalt shimmer that has a whiff of the Mediterranean. But this is sub-Arctic Canada. Glacier-carved cliffs lurch 900 metres out of the water, the breeze carries a frigid nip, and polar bears are an omnipresent threat.
A bear guard looks down on Base Camp during a sunset hike.
Welcome to the Torngat Mountains, a remote frontier of jagged peaks, fjords and icebergs on the Christmas tree-shaped tip of Newfoundland and Labrador. Here, above the tree line, little survives in one of the world’s harshest climates. In winter, the sea freezes and the land is smothered in three metres of snow. In summer, vegetation hardy enough to take root in the permafrost is mostly limited to grass and small shrubs. There are no permanent human residents: this is the domain of caribou, polar bears and the world’s only tundra-dwelling black bears.
Sunset view over Base Camp.
But for about six weeks every July and August, conditions are mild enough to admit people. A handful come either by plane, staying at the Torngat Mountains Base Camp and Research Station, or on an expedition cruise ship. On arrival they’re whisked into the care of Inuit guides and bear guards, who not only provide protection from polar bears, but also an Indigenous interpretation of the land their ancestors have inhabited for millennia.
“Polar bear!” The cry ricochets across the boat, turning into a chorus as passengers hone in on a mother and cub keeping lookout.
A polar bear on Shuldham Island keeps a close eye on tourists.
Forays into Torngat Mountains National Park start on the water. We board a cabin cruiser and motor north across Saglek Bay into a wilderness that is home to the tallest mountains east of the Rockies and some of the oldest rocks on Earth (3.9 billion years). Monolithic icebergs puncture the sky, thrusting out of the water like bobbing chess pieces. Cast adrift from Greenland, the 10,000-year-old bergs glisten in the sun, weeping cyan rivulets into the sea. ‘Polar bear!’ The cry ricochets across the boat, turning into a chorus as passengers hone in on a mother and cub keeping lookout high on an island’s craggy peak. They’re distant figures — cottonseed snagged on rock — but it’s a thrilling sighting nonetheless.
Clear but chilly water at St John's Harbour, Base Camp.
The boat peels into North Arm, threading through a gauntlet of cliffs nudging 1,000 metres high. We moor at the end of the bay, disgorging onto a pebbled beach. First ashore are the bear guards, dressed in high-vis vests, rifles primed. They scan the water and surrounding hillocks before taking their positions on the ridges overlooking the beach.
Donning a ski mobile suit at North Arm.
Freshly caught Arctic char dries in the sun.
Hiking at North Arm.
A campfire is lit and our Inuit companions teach us how to fish. They reel in Arctic char, stripping the plump orange flesh into ribbons of meat, which we eat raw with bannock — traditional bread cooked on rocks in the open fire. We’re in the company of three generations of Inuit custodians, including National Park Superintendent Gary Baikie, a warm-hearted soul who is helping keep Inuit culture alive. We follow him inland in single file, treading lightly; the land is littered with more than 100 archaeological sites. Gary points out the remains of 3000-year-old Inuit tent rings, rock caches used to store fish, caribou and seal meat, and an ancient grave marked by a mound of rocks.
The glacial lake at North Arm looks like it’s been plucked from a Tahitian postcard.
The incredible blue waters at Glacial Lake, North Arm.
We cross a waterfall — bear guides always on the lookout — and pause by a glacial lake that looks like it’s been plucked from a Tahitian postcard. The water is 5°C (not much cooler than the air temperature), but that doesn’t stop some of my companions stripping off for a sub-Arctic swim. The weather has been kind, but it won’t last. On the journey back we switch to a high-speed zodiac inflatable boat and I wriggle into a ski-mobile onesie that has me looking like an orange Michelin Man. Still, the cold infiltrates, clawing at my face, feet and wrists. We hurtle across the sea under a bruised sky and my eyes stream.
Entering North Arm off Saglek Bay.
Another day, we join elder Sophie Keelan on Sallikuluk (Rose Island), where the great-grandmother was born more than 70 years ago. It’s a deeply sacred place. Some 600 Inuit graves are scattered across the island, along with the remnants of sod houses (dug-out dwellings reinforced with whale ribs and animal skins) and fragments of Ramah chert, a translucent cutting stone unique to the Torngats. We huddle by a mass grave of 113 repatriated remains as two throat singers warble a haunting tribute.
Elder Sophie Keelan generously shares insights into Inuit culture and history.
The ghost village of Hebron, just south of the national park.
View across Hebron ruins from the church bell tower.
The Inuit were nomadic hunters, but their recent stories are of dispossession. When German Moravian missionaries arrived in the Torngats in the late 18th century, everything changed. We see the fall out at the ghost village of Hebron, just south of the national park, where homes have been reduced to mounds of warped timber and twisted metal following a program of forced resettlement in 1959.
The ghost village of Hebron.
Ruins of Hebron houses, the result of forced resettlement.
Northern Lights flicker in the skies over the campfire.
In the coming days I see more polar bears, glimpse the northern lights, and buzz over mountain peaks, fjords, waterfalls and glaciers in a helicopter. But it’s my connections with the Inuit People that stay with me.
Icebergs in Saglek Bay.