(Precedent story: raisins and blueberries in Inukjuak)
The wheelhouse of a cargo ship near Inukjuak in 1982A radio operator on board a ship anchored near Inukjuak around 1982
Several ships naviguate along the Hudson Bay and Ungava Bay up in Northern Quebec, in the Nunavik, during summer. Sometimes, as flight service specialists (FSS) working for Transport Canada, we are allowed to get on board to take few pictures, like it was the case for the two photos above.
When a ship makes a long journey towards the small villages along the Hudson Bay and Ungava bay, it regularly strikes small pieces of ice. The crew has to determine if the boat’s hull will be resistant enough to stay on the desired path.
Unfortunately, it is not always possible to evaluate the situation correctly and the hull sometimes breaks under the impact with the ice. The photo below shows the ship Kanguk, off Inukjuak in autumn 1982, its hull damaged during its journey towards one of the small villages along the coast.
Kanguk broken hull in Inukjuak
(Next story: enroute for the second posting: Rouyn-Noranda FSS)
(Precedent story: The cockpit of a KLM Boeing 747 during a night flight over the Atlantic)
Around 1982, during the months when there was an on-the-spot cook preparing the meals in Inukjuak, for Transport Canada and Environment Canada employees, we had it easy because everything was ready when meal time came. It remains that the desserts would have benefited from a little variety. Those were prepared with either grapes or blueberries, week after week, month after month.
Carrots and raisins muffinsBlueberries and lemon muffins
We thus had the choice between raisin cakes, raisin pies, raisin puddings, raisin muffins and raisin cookies. When there was no more possibility of ingesting additional raisins, it was now time for blueberries: blueberry cakes, blueberry pies, blueberry puddings and blueberry muffins. However, to add some variety in the menu, there were no blueberry cookies. I was unable to eat raisins and blueberries for a long time following this monthly overdose of the same ingredients.
The cook not being particularly patient, I thought of making him laugh a little by asking him to participate in a trick where the victim would be a new Transport Canadaflight service specialist (FSS) employee who had just arrived in Inukjuak in early afternoon. The latter had not taken any meal yet in the staff house’s kitchen. I knew that the dinner was served at 5 pm and that it was necessary to get organized to be on time. I thus told the cook that I would voluntarily arrive five minutes late with the new FSS. That would allow the cook to act as if he was extremely upset. I knew he would be convincing.
Dinner time came. It was 5 PM but training of the new flight service specialist was voluntarily extended five minutes. Then, feigning a surprise, we told him it was necessary to rush towards the staff house, as we feared the cook would be out of his mind. From the corridor that lead to the kitchen, we could hear cauldrons being smashed on the counter while the cook was shouting and complaining that new employees thought they were kings and lacked respect towards the kitchen staff.
The newcomer told me that he was not really hungry. Apparently, he was not anxious to face the cook’s anger. The situation got worse when I nevertheless incited him to go in the kitchen and try to arrange things with the cook. Seeing the new guy, the cook doubled his efforts, red with anger. Then suddenly, all the employees in the kitchen burst with laughter and the cook wished a warm welcome to the new FSS, thanking him for having given him a chance to relax a little.
(Precedent story: a kitchen used as a navigation aid to aviation)
Cockpit and crew view of a KLM B747 on a night flight from Montreal to Amsterdam (EHAM) . The picture was taken while the aircraft was mid-point over the Atlantic ocean, in 1983.
There was a time when it was very simple to visit the cockpit of an aircraft in flight. A request was made to the stewardess, who then coordinated with the captain. Even during this period though, several companies forbade those visits when the plane was over the ocean.
In 1983, during a journey from Montreal towards Holland, I decided to take a chance and ask the on-board staff the dreaded question, hoping to be able to take a picture of the cockpit.
The flight was being made on a KLMBoeing B747. In the middle of the night, while the plane had been at cruising altitude for several hours and most of the passengers were asleep, I discreetly asked the flight attendant the authorization to visit the cockpit. Naturally, she refused. I tried again, telling her that I was working as a flight service specialist (FSS) for Transport Canada in Inukjuak, and that I regularly talked with KLM to provide air traffic services. To dissipate any doubts, I finally gave her the KLM call-signs that I was dealing with over Northern Quebec.
She agreed to deliver my request and, twenty minutes later, I was told: “come with me but pay attention not to wake the first class passengers installed near the spiral staircase which leads to the cockpit “. As I entered the cockpit, the captain turned around, greeted me while he crunched in an apple and returned to his work. Everything was quiet in the cockpit and we could hear a continual light whistling caused by the air friction.
After a short discussion with the crew, I asked both pilots and the flight engineer to close their eyes a short moment while I took a photo with flash with my Pentax KX. A photo impossible to take today, under the same circumstances, due to higher security standards.
And, since I started my annual holidays by visiting a cockpit, I thought it would also be interesting, once in Holland, to visit the famous miniature world of Madurodam, so as not to stay away too long from the aviation world…
The miniature world of Madurodam, Holland 1983Madurodam, Holland 1983
(Precedent story: the UFO invented in Inukjuak in 1983)
Inukjuak during a blizzard that forbid landings for days.
The winter 1982-1983 was fierce in Inukjuak (CYPH), in the Nunavik. There was a period when the winds were strong enough and the visibility reduced to the point that a rope had to be attached between the staff house and the flight service station. A Transport Canadaflight service specialist (FSS) had to hold a rope to guide himself from one building to the other. And good luck to the FSS who would try to carry his meal on a tray between both buildings. A hand held the rope while the other one took care of the tray which was going in all directions. On one occasion, tray and food found their way in the snowbank.
Due to strong sustained winds, snow sometimes reached the roof top of the Inukjuak flight service station.
After a storm which seemed endless, I remember that the employees had to dig steps in the hardened snow in order to reach the flight service station door.
We sometimes had to dig in the snow to free the door and enter in the Inukjuak flight service station
This blizzard, which lasted twelve days, had prevented any takeoff and landing. There was no more milk for sale in the Inuit village, as it was now reserved for children. Hardly one hundred feet over us, there was a perfectly blue sky, according to the pilots who had tried to land on multiple occasions. But one morning, an Austin Airways pilot decided to risk an approach.
A red square was useful to help the employees find a building during a blizzard in Inukjuak.
The pilot could not benefit from any precise navigation aid during his approach, as the airport was only equipped with an NDB. So he trusted his local knowledge and what was left of his judgment. He knew that the staff house was painted green and situated just beside the runway. I guess that he prepared himself to aim for the colored staff house then make a sharp turn at the last minute. He dived into the storm, estimating the wind drift as much as he could.
At that same moment, our cook was working in the staff house’s kitchen. He was facing a huge bay window and was stunned to suddenly see the nose of a Twin Otter appear a few meters away from the window at the same time as a steep turn was being made to avoid the building. Reverse thrust was immediately applied to immobilize the plane as fast as possible. The cook repeated what he witnessed to every employee. I guess that helped him to unwind a bit.
As this was not enough surprise for the day, the plane’s doors opened and, instead of the much needed milk cargo expected by the villagers, we witnessed about ten passengers stepping out the plane and chitchatting like nothing ever happened. This unorthodox approach to the Inukjuak airport would now be one more story added on top of all the others told by pilots offering daily air service to northern Quebec villages along Hudson Bay and Ungava Bay coasts.
(Next story: the cockpit of a KLM Boeing 747 during a night flight over the Atlantic)
(Precedent story: assertions concerning the massacre of sled dogs during the fifties and sixties)
An Environnement Canada employee is launching a weather balloon in Inukjuak in 1983
When I was working as a Transport Canadaflight service specialist (FSS) in Inukjuak (CYPH) (Nunavik) in 1983, I witnessed the creation of a most improbable UFO. According to its duties, the Environment Canada staff at work in the upper air station had to launch, twice a day, a free-rising balloon which could go up to approximately 70,000 feet. These hydrogen filled balloons were pulling a radiosonde which was transmitting data such as wind speed and temperature at all altitudes.
One day, an observer attached a small battery on the probe as well as five battery fed bulbs. The balloon rate of ascent was corrected to take into account the additional weight of the new equipment. Finally, at darkness, the whole installation was launched. The only thing an observer on the ground could see in the sky was five lights moving quickly together while maintaining the same spacing. The speed and height of the unknown formation were impossible to determine since there was no ground reference.
Observed from the ground, this UFO could be either at 100 feet or at a very high altitude. The object was totally silent and seemed to be moving like nobody’s business. A UFO is now identified, decades later.
(Next story: a kitchen used as a navigational aid)
(Precedent story: acquisition of an Inuit sculpture in Inukjuak in 1982)
Canadian eskimo dogs in front of a house in Inukjuak in 1983
When I was working in Inukjuak (CYPH) in Northern Quebec as a flight service specialist (FSS) for Transport Canada, in 1982-1983, I liked walking along the Hudson Bay coast. One day, I got for company a big Canadian eskimo dog belonging to an Environment Canada employee. The dog had found a way to free itself from its leash and I took advantage of his company to explore the coast.
It was not and still isn’t frequent to witness unattended dogs on a territory inhabited by Inuits. During summer, the latter normally carry the dogs on nearby isolated islands along the Hudson Bay and Ungava coasts. Naturally, the Inuits come back at regular intervals to feed them. This was still going on in 2013 as it serves multiple useful purposes. According to an Inukjuak Inuit with whom I was discussing recently, the island allows the dogs some freedom of movement since they don’t need to be tied all day long to a short rope. Also, the dogs are more comfortable on the islands since there is far less mosquitoes.
In 1982, I heard rumors according to the fact that dogs left free might be brought down, but I did not witness such a thing. Local policy was such that stray dogs would not be tolerated because they presented a threat for the population. Of all that has been said concerning dogs that were brought down for the most diverse reasons, the recurrent story is the allegation of massacres of Eskimo dogs during the fifties and sixties. The documentation found in this respect states that about one thousand dogs were brought down during those two decades, most pointlessly, in the various villages along Hudson Bay, Ungava Bay and Davis Strait.
An interim report about the investigation on this subject was handed in 2009 to the Makivik Corporation and to the Government of Quebec by the retired judge Jean-Jacques Croteau from the Quebec Superior Court. We learn of this report that the RCMP as much as Sûreté du Québec police forces had participated in the elimination of sled dogs during those years, by interpreting in a personal and fairly restrictive way a law dating from 1941 and dealing with “The Agricultural Abuses Act“. When it was created, this text of law aimed at creating a system of non-responsibility for a person who would shoot down a stray dog according to specific conditions stipulated in the text of law. Reference was made here to actions taken against stray dogs attacking sheeps and farm animals.
A Canadian eskimo dog (Jordan) in Inukjuak in 1983
The police quickly made excessive use of this section of the law to apply it on a territory which was not targeted by the law. I can make a mistake, but I believe that nobody ever observed an Inuit sheep farmer on a farm in the Arctic. The most important events occurred after the RCMP gave back the responsibility of the territory to the Sûreté du Québec. That police force showed a complete misunderstanding of the Inuit culture. According to the proofs presented in the report, policemen arrived in a village without warning and killed stray dogs, chasing them even under houses, without having taken care of verifying if the dog was sick or dangerous. We find in the report the testimony of two Kangiqsujuaq Inuits asserting having seen two policemen arriving by seaplane, and without saying a word to whoever it is, begin to chase stray dogs through the village. Thirty two animals were eliminated and the policemen left the village without giving explanations.
The report states that the Northern Quebec Inuits were never consulted as to the impact of the law on “The Agricultural Abuses Act“, a totally inappropriate law for them, not taking into account their ancestral rights. The Inuits depended completely on dogs for transportation, to go hunting and fishing. We can read the following passage, in the last sections of the report: “after 1960, the actions and the behavior of the police force went too far. Nothing was to be understood. The officers demonstrated a total lack of consciousness with regard to the fundamental rights of the Inuits, their culture and the importance of dogs for their subsistence. The behavior of the officers, which could not be ignored by the provincial and federal civil administrations, had a damaging effect on seventy-five dog owners and their family, compromising their capacity to meet their needs in food “. No help was offered by the authorities to compensate for the loss of dogs.
The judge finally noted that he had no other choice than to declare that Canada and Quebec did not respect their fiduciary obligations towards the Inuits. I imagine that monetary compensations have since been offered, unless this report was only the first step in the process aimed at establishing the responsibilities and some future compensation.
(Next story: the UFO invented in Inukjuak in 1983)
(Previous story: Inukjuak: last hope for a Twin Otter low on fuel)
Once in a while, an Inuit carver would visit the Transport Canadaflight service station (FSS) and surrounding Environment Canada buildings in Inukjuak, in the Nunavik, to offer one of his new creation. The main problem is that these visits were forbidden by the workers co-op. If the carver was caught selling a sculpture without going through the co-op, he lost his right to sell his regular production to the cooperative. But the temptations to bypass regulations were strong.
First, some sculptors considered that they were not receiving enough money from the cooperative for their work. Most knew the real sale price of their carvings once those ones were displayed in specialized stores down South. Secondly, there were sculptors who suffered from alcoholism. They could not buy alcohol in Inukjuak but knew that Whites had generally a small quantity of it in their ownership. Some sculptors were taking a chance and visit Whites at their working place during night time.
Some Whites took advantage of that alcohol addiction and acquired beautiful sculptures in exchange of a bottle. There was and there are always several problems associated with such an attitude, the most important being that the Whites help perpetuate the difficulties lived by native communities with regard to alcohol. The devastation caused by alcohol and drugs in certain villages of the Northern Canada is well documented and this is why several locations have put in place a strict ban on alcohol consumption. No store can sell it.
But an inhabitant of a northern village knows that Whites have some alcohol in their possession. People sometimes came back home after a day of work only to notice that the house had been visited by an intruder. Nothing had been stolen except the alcohol, although other valuables were immediately available to the thief. The problem is that violent acts are mostly committed when alcohol and/or drugs are involved. It is thus important to avoid being an indirect actor of a potential drama.
The sculptor being the author of his creation, he has the right to take a risk and try to get a better price for his work by avoiding the workers co-op. However, it is risky: his attempts are going to bring him more money until he is caught.
A rare opportunity to buy a sculpture directly from the carver was given to me one winter evening while I was working at the flight service station. A sculptor showed up with his carving which he deposited on the briefing counter. It seemed to be large-sized piece, at least according to the size of the packaging. It was protected by a simple blanket and was about 18 inches high by 12 inches wide.
He told me that he wanted spirits for his work and nothing else. I replied that I did not have spirits in my possession. He then asked for beer. I had some beer in my room, but refused to tell him. I offered him money which he clearly refused: he only wanted alcohol at the approach of the weekend. I refused to modify my line of conduct and, a few seconds later, saw the sculptor disappear with his creation, confident that he would quickly find a more flexible customer.
(Next story: assertions concerning the massacre of dogs of sleds during years ‘ 50 and ‘ 60)
The Bell Canada Twin Otter in the background during a nice winter day in Inukjuak. In the foreground, an old ski-doo model.
One winter evening, in 1983, the Transport Canadaflight service station (FSS) in Inukjuak (CYPH) received a radio call from a Bell CanadaTwin Otter that was in trouble. The fog had invaded the Hudson Bay coast in several places, and landing at the planned alternate airports was now impossible. Weather conditions still being acceptable in Inukjuak, our airport became the last option for the pilot. Unfortunately, our runway lights were out of service and a solution had to be found quickly.
Phone calls were made. Several Inuits arrived in snowmobile and installed their machine on each side of the runway, in more or less regular intervals, so as to light the outside limits of the landing surface. The pilot made a normal approach and the aircraft landed without problem. This kind of service provided by the Inuit was not something new. The pilots were always happy to be able to rely on this emergency auxiliary lighting supplied by the inhabitants of northern Quebec villages when there was a sudden problem.
(Next story: acquisition of an Inuit sculpture in Inukjuak in 1982)
(Precedent story: the Inuit who wanted to shoot Whites with a .303 caliber rifle)
In a Northern QuebecInuit village, in the early ` 80s, there was still a fair amount of homes that were not equipped with toilets as we know them today. The occupants of these properties had to relieve themselves by sitting on a bucket covered with a garbage bag that people called “Honey Bag “. Fortunately for Environment Canada and Transport Canadaflight service specialists (FSS)working in Inukjuak (CYPH), sanitary facilities were exactly like what could be found in southern cities and it was not necessary to use makeshift means.
The fact remains that a White male was hired as director of a local public institution and lived with his family in a house equipped with this type of “Honey Bag ” facility. On a beautiful Saturday, he and his wife were receiving guests for dinner and they were taking care of the final details. The wife had asked her husband, few days earlier, to take the “Honey Bag” out of the house and put a new bag on the toilet.
The man had neglected his task and the bag had gained volume and weight. But it was now Saturday, so he could no longer procrastinate. He grabbed the bag, closed it and crossed the living room heading toward the door. At the moment he was crossing the living room, the bag broke and all of its content spread on the carpet.
It was reported to us that there was an emergency clean-up throughout the afternoon to try to correct the situation. There was no way of knowing if the guests were able to enjoy the subtle aromas of the good wine served with the dinner…
(Next story: Inukjuak: last hope for a Twin Otter short on fuel)
This is where we worked and lived in Inukjuak in 1982. One of the buildings holds the Transport Canada flight service station.
Note: It is only an out of the ordinary true life story. Normal relations between Whites and Inuit are entirely peaceful. Besides, we all know of situations in the southern cities where whites have tried to shoot people. The following story therefore presents an unusual and rare case.
In a Northern Quebec village named Inukjuak,in 1982-1983, the buildings layout was simple. On top of a nearby hill was the whole village, populated overwhelmingly by Inuit. Down the hill, near the airstrip and Hudson Bay, were the few buildings where Environment Canada employees and Transport Canadaflight services specialists (FSS) could be found. There were only Whites living and working in this area.
One evening during winter` 82 -` 83, someone knocked on the door and entered immediately without waiting for an answer. It was the auxiliary police officer. He was an unarmed young man who occasionally helped the unique village policeman. He told us that the policeman was absent from the village and that he must fend for himself. He urged us: “Lock your doors and turn off the lights, do not go out unless it is essential, as there is one Inuit armed with .303 caliber rifle who wants to shoot white people.”
It was, of course, a complete surprise for everyone. It was easy to deduce that the shooter looking for Whites would choose the easiest solution and head towards our buildings to shoot somebody at random. Not wanting to be a sitting duck, I went to my room and grabbed a locked suitcase that had been sleeping for months on a shelf. I took out a Remington Classic 700 BDL Bolt Action and loaded the magazine.
We established a plan, with the other two persons in the house. Two of us would have to get out and head toward the flight service station, where there was an unarmed FSS female employee working alone. Chances were that she was not aware of what was going on. One of us would bring her back home and the other one would then complete her night shift at her place, since the station could not be left unattended.
While we would be gone, there would be one person left in the house with a gun to protect himself if necessary. This employee had just arrived in Inukjuak. I still remember his reaction when we were getting ready to leave. I can hear him say: “But what is this crazy place?”
We closed the outdoor floodlights and headed to the flight service station with our weapons. Walking in the dark, crouched like soldiers during wartime, we arrived at the Transport Canada building where we found the employee occupied at her normal duties, completely ignoring the possible presence of a nearby shooter. I took her place to complete the night shift while she returned home accompanied by an armed employee.
Once alone in the operating room, I shut the lights while keeping a small lamp to illuminate the console radio frequencies. I lay the rifle flat on a counter, the lock removed for faster use if needed. The radio console was located opposite a large window: it left us totally exposed to anyone who would decide to shoot through it. I therefore had to stay away from the normal working position, except when responding to radio calls, until we received fresh news about the shooter.
Twin Otter inbound for Inukjuak on a very windy day in 1982.
The improvised night shift ended without incident in the station, but I learned that multiple shots were fired at a vehicle traveling near our facilities. Projectiles pierced doors, but luckily they did not hit the vehicle occupants. Within hours of the event, a tactical response team of the Sûreté du Québec arrived in Inukjuak and controlled the shooter.
Even if this story took place decades ago, I still remember very well the atmosphere on that evening. When untrained civilians must load firearms to potentially use them against another human, it cannot be forgotten.
