Silent day.

 

Sunday February 13^th 2011.

For the first time since I have been here today I have felt lonely and yet still so thankful that I am here in this beautiful place. I read a quote from mountaineer Reinhold Messner which does truly sum up how I feel when I look outside my door ‘It seems to me that I was restored to that time and that state when nature alone was God” That’s exactly it. I look out and see nothing but the natural world. Since I have arrived it has provided me with an ever constantly changing sea and sky. Icebergs come and go either end their days battered into small bits here or float out to be replaced by others. Some spectacular ones usually tantalizingly out towards the horizon but occasionally coming close enough for me to make out their contours. The smaller ones looking like pleasure boats on a lake jostle around waiting for me to forget the icy danger and step aboard. Sometimes the ravens do just that which makes me smile. I observed a small flat piece of ice the other morning which had a collection of bones and food scavenged I guess from the rubbish burning place further along. It looked like a small table set with luncheon and I am still wondering what creature had done this but it’s not likely that I will ever know. 

I photographed my own work and put things into my notebook. I had books to return to the library but unfortunately for me I forgot my glasses so was unable to spend time browsing today.

Coming back at around three I decided I would cook my chicken and have supper around six. I was like a child waiting for chocolate. It is the first time I have managed to get any green veg even frozen as this was. It was good although I am not sure how long the chicken had been deep frozen as it tasted of nothing really. After supper to I played Mama Mia again just for the sheer delight of watching Meryal Streep and Julie Walters. Where did that time go, I remember being like that in sixties. Amazing clothes, a figure to show them off and a healthy disrespect for anything that wasn’t fun, artistic, or interesting. Ah well it all fits the mood tonight. The moon is waxing and is casting an eerie light. It makes me shiver and I have locked my door. I almost expect one of the mythical Greenlandic monsters to show up at my door, or perhaps a polar bear sniffing around for food. Beathe told me the other day after they kill they put the paw up to the nose of the kill so that they can feel if it is still breathing. They won’t eat a kill if it is still living. 

Calm before the storm

Supper on a sled.

  This morning the sun was stronger and for the first time I could see the reflections of the icebergs. Previously the light has been to dark to cause reflections to be seen. It takes the ice into a different place and strangely makes it seem less solid than when all I could see was the azure blue underneath. I decided to start early on my gigantic painting because the light was so utterly beautiful.   
Later that morning while on a quick break I took my camera for a walk towards the village. I was in luck because an old man trundled up with a sled full of chunks of seal and two large walruses.

The dogs went mad with delight and he seemed to be sharing his bounty with all the packs near me. I was so glad that my favourite pack all had generous hunks of bloody food in front of them.

storm clouds approaching.

Its getting windy now and I had thought earlier that an incoming storm had bypassed us but perhaps it will come tonight. This little house creaks and groans in storms and I marvel that it has taken so many battering as it stands on the edge of the sea. I am constantly awed by the way the weather changes so quickly. Storms come fast but disappear in an instant. It can be dangerous not to heed the weather updates and storm warnings in this part of the world. The beauty witnessed in the ever changing weather patterns I know I will carry with me forever but for now I retreat upstairs early to listen to the storm safely snuggled up in my duvet wondering if I will have to dig myself out in the morning.

Embroidered, and crochet work top the sealskin kamiks

This was my first glimpse of the sun returning. The light didn't get much brighter and it was still initially dark by approximately four o clock each afternoon. Daily the sun gained strength and it lightened by about twenty minutes each day.

Fish (underneath deck) and washing drying

Saturday February 5th.

The light is totally different today and it’s hard to describe. I saw the sun for the first time this morning, as yesterday it was too cloudy. It wasn’t only the short burst of sunlight though it’s as if there is an added clarity and colour to complete forms instead of just hard edge outlines. This morning before I left for Beathe’s house I made a piece of work and did some washing. Amazingly washing will quickly dry outside if hung up. First it freezes hard and then because the air is so dry it is no longer wet within an hour or two of hanging out and smells like heaven

. It is a long walk up to Beathe’s so I set off in good time, as I wanted to get them some chocolate at the supermarket. I purchased a very small box and two little bags of chocolate raisins for the girls costing around 20e. After leaving the supermarket I began the very long climb up to where Beathes house is. Her husband built it single handedly and it is both a comfortable sturdy building.

 The village is charming in winter, the pastel coloured houses are painted mostly reds blues and greens but also some yellow. Fairy lights or even the electric advent candles such as those seen at Christmas time in Ireland light some windows. All the guidebooks describe Upernavik as a “scruffy place” and I can see that in summer this may well be the case, but the winter snow and ice transforms it, making the little houses sparkle like jewels as they rise upwards towards the mountaintop.
I reached Beathe, s a little after 2 o clock. I found the walk today much more difficult than yesterday for some reason so I was very glad to arrive. The girls made me very welcome and Beathe explained to me that her Dad had caught the seal last season and the parts she was cooking today were those saved for celebrations. She cooked it in two different ways the first fried with a boiled potato and the second more like a stew with potatoes and onions cooked in the blood and rice added also. I preferred the first dish and it had a gamey sort of taste. I think both dishes were made from the liver and kidneys.  Knud her husband had arrived home but didn’t eat with us. After we had finished I asked if I could see Beathes Kamiks (long sealskin boots part of traditional Greenlandic costume) and she kindly showed me the complete ensemble. The top with the beading is so heavy I was very surprised when I put it on.  

Return of the sun

Friday February 4^th.

Today is a magical day on Upernavik because it is the day the sun will come back. Beathe and I made our way to the school for 12.30 to see the children and then we went on climbing up the mountain. It was very cold on the way up and the rabbit fur on my hat had icicle on it where my breath froze. I was reminded of the pictures of explorer’s beards doing exactly the same. When we had climbed about three quarters of the way up we could see the children and their teachers setting off. I think there were probably about 500 people including all the kids and at 1.39 they sang the song of welcome.  Many of the children were holding cardboard images of the sun. They were all very happy and excited. The sun actually didn’t show except for a rosy hue around the clouds. It had been snowing all morning and cloud was thick. The village knew it was there though and climbed back down after the song finished. On the way back I met Finn the school librarian. He invited me to take books out of the library when it opens at 2 on Sunday. As we walked he talked about climate change and how he had to get rid of his dogs because he could no longer afford to feed a pack that couldn’t earn its keep. It is when the Greenlanders talk of the lack of sea ice that I am really able to see how bad their plight is. They worry for the loss of tradition but far more serious is their loss of food and income. They already have much longer periods of inactivity because the hunting season has become so much shorter. They are hoping the sea will freeze by mid February but it should have been frozen months ago. 

Wanted to get back down to the shoreline outside my house to try to draw the rocks but it had snowed last night and my footprints from yesterday had been covered. As it was still snowing I decided not to chance it and spent the afternoon making pastel drawings

Sled Dogs.

From my favourite pack. These two were young and played together.

Always on the watch.

I love the sled dog because they are absolutely unique creatures that make my three hooligans (German Shepherd, Wicklow Collie and Spaniel cross with Collie) look like wimps. In Upernavik I am fascinated by them and daily observe these stoical arctic creatures mainly eating or simply curled up sleeping while the snow blankets tuck in gently around them Due to the fact that they have never been cross-bred with other dogs they have adapted perfectly to arctic conditions and the strain has been kept pure and it is illegal to bring other breeds into the sled dog districts for this reason.  It is impossible to ignore the noise as the village constantly resounds with howling instead of barking because they are directly descended from wolves and cannot truly bark It is a wonderful sound especially at night and or if a pack smell fresh meat to hunt.

Himself

I pass my favourite pack daily on my way to make-work. Sometimes I stop and quickly draw the king. He is battered looking and tawny coloured, yet one glare from him silences the rest of the pack. He is chained alone heavily anchored by his owners boat. He has a wide circle of space to patrol but mostly stays in the centre quite still making him a gift to draw.  Others are chained in pairs but a few remain in solitary confinement. When supper comes down the hill on a sled pulled by their owner all get very agitated anticipating the walrus or seal being butchered to satisfy their hunger.

There are not as many sled dogs as previously when the hunting season used to start in October. The season now is shorter as for approx the last ten years the ice has failed to freeze the sea until mid to late February.  This causes the local population difficulties, mainly finding enough fresh meat to feed both themselves and the dogs. The short season also means there is intense pressure to catch enough food to feed and freeze for leaner times. When harnessed they can haul the sleds up to one hundred kilometers in a day. These are highly trained creatures and respond totally to the language of their owners. They are dangerous to approach as they are very unpredictable and Upernavik children in the past have been savaged or even killed by them. It took all my willpower not to approach them but I had been warned so often not to go near that to do so would have been foolhardy.  I would have given anything to touch  and also sled across the ice with them but this was not possible as the sea only froze a few days before left and it was not yet hard enough to take their weight.

Upernavik Journal February 3rd 2011

February 3rd 2011

Artist House.

I was reading at around 6 this morning when suddenly all was plunged into complete darkness. Edging my way from the bedroom to bathroom from where I can see the village wasn’t an easy task as the staircase runs up the middle of the bedroom. It was like walking on the deep snow outside, one foot at a time. Looking out of the tiny bathroom window I can usually see pinpricks of light everywhere. Many islanders illuminate their homes through the night and the snowy roadway is well lit both by streetlights and red bulbs also on the poles. This morning nothing at all, just complete and utter dark. Standing there in silent blindness transported me from this century right back to when the only houses here were the few buildings at this end of the island plus turf houses and shacks.

Yesterday Beathe and I were looking at the museums collection of very old photographs and this morning for a short while in the total darkness while the wind howled and the sea boomed I saw how incredible survival was in this climate. Yesterday I was moaning about losing artistic creativity I feel  ashamed. The women of this island were so resilient. Some of the photographs showed Inuit women caring for the sick and injured. They had to learn to do everything just to live another day and sometimes in this darkness what they did wasn’t good enough, maybe due to lack of education, supplies or medical knowledge and they also had to live with that. For a short time period time was suspended in the darkness in that small house on the edge of no where.  I was glad the light failed for long enough for me to experience a fragile link with Upernavik's history.

Original turf house.