20.11.2006: Musings Of The Dark

In mid-November Markus returned to Finland for an extended winter holiday, leaving Delia alone in Paulatuk for four weeks. Here are some of her thoughts during this time.

The land, in fact it seems the whole world, has gone to sleep. There's no photo gallery or adventure - these are thoughts - a rant, if you will. My first musings of the dark.

The spring, summer and fall were all delightful in their splendour, bedazzled with glistening snow and ice, bright wildflowers and splashing shades of bold red respectively. These first past months we have waited patiently, even with curiosity, for what the winter would bring. Many asked of our thoughts or fears, and those already here often warned in a gentle way of what was to come, but we've had neither anxiety nor distaste - merely the sense of another adventure, an experience to live!

Winter storm visiting Paulatuk. Photo by Markus Siivola.

Markus was born and raised at the Arctic Circle, and is certainly no stranger to long, dark, cold winters. It's a natural part of his life, having spent even his past few years only as far south as Helsinki - the latitude equivalent of Yellowknife. Winter for Markus means snow and ice adventures of skiing, snowmobiling and ice-climbing, and "kaamos" (the darkest period) was actually a coveted time to plan long-dreamt-of winter trips under the stars and northern lights. I, myself, am also not an entire stranger to the darkness of a northern winter. Although hardly well-seasoned, over the last three years I have spent the better part of one and a half winters in Helsinki, along with a visit north to Rovaniemi during kaamos. I was curious of the darkness to come and often thought of the tactics that we could use to bring us through the long, dark days. Despite Markus' experience, this is not northern Finland. Winds can go up to 140 kph and temperatures are already often -26 C in the daytime, and it's only November. We expect there will be times when we'll be house-bound for days. Regardless, we feel we're ready to pull through it.

"You want an experience? Go lock yourself in the basement for six months with all the lights turned out. It's the same thing." That's what my father said to me six years ago when I first tried to find a job that would allow me to make my way up to Canada's north. Clearly he didn't understand the fascination. He spent three years working in Cambridge Bay, Nunavut, long before he was married and while many things stand in his memories from that time, I heard often of the darkness and harsh weather. Still, I wasn't deterred, and so I find myself now following in his footsteps. Not despite his stories, but because of them.

Already in November the darkness is palpable - it creeps up slowly through the fall and then suddenly I realized it was upon us. The sun is so low on the horizon that even the shortening daylight hours are wan and fleeting. Most days in the past month have been overcast with clouds, making the short daytime even dimmer. I begin to notice it. If it weren't for the clouds I'm sure I would enjoy it more. When clear, the night sky is fantastic and there are northern lights during every night, I'm sure. The clouds are almost oppressive.

It means that we need to make extra efforts to stay active, when the biting snow in the wind and the blackness and cold makes our usual passtime of jogging an unmotivating prospect. There are team games at the school gymnasium every night open to anyone who comes by. We bundle up and trundle out when the air is still enough for some running about outdoors. Markus has taken a keen interest in photographing the night sky on clear nights. We hope there will be more of those as the winter wears on and it gets colder, forcing the humidity (and thus, the clouds) out of the air. And, of course, we will dream.

-Delia