(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 Canada flight 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 Canada flight 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 Canada flight service station (FSS) in Inukjuak (CYPH) received a radio call from a Bell Canada Twin 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 Quebec Inuit 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 Canada flight 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 Canada flight 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.
(Precedent story: the manager who lost his appetite)
Two Austin Airways Twin Otters being unloaded in Inukjuak in 1982.
During the years the Transport Canada flight service station in Inukjuak (CYPH) was in operation, there was something an Austin Airways pilot could count on: on the arrival of the aircraft, there would often be somebody from the village waiting to give a hand in unloading the cargo or provide some kind of services to shorten the stopover time. The villagers were indeed regularly calling the flight service specialists (FSS) to know if there was any aircraft inbound, and if it was the case, what was the estimated time of arrival. We were used to questions like “What time plane?”, “Is that food plane?”, “Is that mail plane?”.
Upon landing, we could see, arriving from the village, a fuel truck and other pick-ups and Honda three wheelers. The postmaster came to fetch the mail, the villagers to meet passengers and family members, and the businessmen to unload their cargo or fuel the aircraft.
There was a similar interest regarding the arrival of the first vessels of the season, in late summer. Besides the occasional icebreaker presence, we witnessed the arrival of the Shell tanker, responsible to supply the villages along the Hudson Bay and Ungava Bay coasts. Barges loaded with heavy machinery and crated material were finally reaching Northern Quebec villages after more than a week of navigation, taking advantage of the low tide to deliver their cargo. Some of those vessels were damaged by ice and sometimes had to be repaired on the spot before they could resume their journey.
A rare sight: a piano and some mattresses were left without much protection in the absence of their new owners. Inukjuak 1982
One day, an anti-submarine patrol aircraft CP140 Aurora having completed his work over Hudson Bay contacted us for air traffic services. Since its operations seemed momentarily completed and it was now moving to another area, he was asked to do a “low pass” above the station. The pilot agreed and soon enough, the airplane was zooming above our facilities disappearing moments later in the clouds. I still remember the flood of phone calls that the aircraft fly-by created. Unable to see the Aurora, now above the clouds, the villagers were asking: “Is that food plane? “,”Is that mail plane ? ” .
A low pass is sometimes requested to get a close-up of an aircraft and to allow the staff to hear the roaring engines as the aircraft zooms by the building. This also creates an opportunity to take a picture. Every pilot that I have known throughout the years would gladly accept this opportunity to add some action in his routine…
An Air Inuit Twin Otter C-GMDC is refueling in Inukjuak in 1982
(Next story: the Inuit who wanted to shoot Whites with a .303 caliber rifle)
(Precedent story: illegal fishing on the Innuksuak river)
An Austin Airways Twin Otter is getting airborne during a snow shower in Inukjuak, 1982. In the background, the Environment Canada upper air station.
A Transport Canada manager had to occasionally leave the comfort of his office in Montreal to visit one of the flight service stations located in Northern Quebec, in the Nunavik. So in 1982 he made the journey to Inukjuak (CYPH), using Nordair for the leg between Montreal and Kuujjuarapik (CYGW).
From there, an Austin Airways Twin Otter brought him to Inukjuak. But few minutes after the aircraft was airborne from Kuujjuarapik, the cloud base dropped dramatically and the pilot later told the flight services specialists (FSS) in Inukjuak that he had made the trip with no more than 200 feet of clearance between the Hudson Bay water and the clouds.
The airplane arrived in Inukjuak during the afternoon. At dinner, the chef offered a hot meal, but the manager refused to eat anything, stating that he had absolutely no appetite. He later told us that to see the surface of the water so close to the plane and feel the mechanical turbulence throughout the trip had cut his appetite. The flight services specialists realized that their manager was not very comfortable with “non standard” flights.
An Austin Airways Twin Otter on takeoff from Inukjuak in 1982.
On the return flight, he was the sole passenger on board, the remaining space being occupied by cargo. The FSS knew the pilots very well and asked them a small favor, which was a takeoff with a tight turn to the right. This was done skillfully and certainly created a surprise with the traveler.
On the flight back to Montreal, while on a stopover in La Grande (CYGL) he sent us a message via the La Grande flight service station teletype that spoke volumes about his appreciation of the turn. I must say, in all honesty, that the pilot had given more than the client requested, and that the traveler had the chance to experience a 70 degree right turn. It was enough to keep him from traveling up north for a while.
(Precedent story: a visit at the Inukjuak flight service station)
Inhabitants of the Inukjuak village, 1982
In the early “80s, while I was working at the Transport Canada flight service station in Inukjuak (CYPH), a floatplane entered our control zone in Inukjuak without communicating with the flight service specialists (FSS). He was flying at low altitude over the area with the obvious intent to do a stopover on the Innuksuak River, a few kilometers inland. We tried to contact the pilot but he never replied. We started to suspect that illegal fishing was the reason for his trip in northern Quebec. The aircraft owner had possibly not paid the mandatory fishing fees to get access to Quebec controlled territories.
Thanks to the cooperation of the Inuits, we managed to get the registration of the aircraft. A quick search allowed us to determine that it was owned by a company operating from a base in northern Ontario.
We expected that the aircraft would be airborne in few hours, loaded with fish. And it was obvious that the pilot would not take the risk of refueling at our airport. He would therefore be forced to land in Kuujjuarapik (CYGW) for fuel.
We contacted Kuujjuarapik FSS and asked them to note what would be the final destination of the aircraft. It was an airport in the north of the Abitibi region, under Rouyn-Noranda FSS responsability. The FSS at many flight service stations worked together to follow the aircraft to its destination. Police officers drove to the airport and waited for the aircraft to land. I imagine that the seizures and fines were important.
In this story, the initiative and collaboration of Inukjuak inhabitants were essential. Without them, it would have been impossible to get the registration of the aircraft.
(Precedent story: when in doubt, action is worth more than inaction)
Children visiting the Inukjuak flight service station in 1982.
In 1982, at the Transport Canada flight service station in Inukjuak (CYPH), I work with other flight service specialists (FSS) to provide air traffic services, which include advisory service to arriving and departing aircrafts. We also act as a radio communication station for ships as well as for airplanes, through VHF and HF frequencies. I only remember regular call-signs like Air France 004, who always used to call in the middle of the night, and KLM692. We also have radio contacts with military aircrafts.
Knowledge of Morse code is mandatory, although reserved for occasional use only. Weather briefings to pilots are scarce. The technology available at the time is very basic. All the data received, every minute of the day, is printed automatically. Miles of paper must be managed by the staff on a monthly basis.
Working seven days a week in a Nunavik isolated post, sometimes during twelve or sixteen hour shifts quickly becomes repetitive. In order to see something else than the flight service station, one should not miss the opportunity to participate in activities with the local Inuit population whenever possible. So one day I decide to prepare an elementary weather course in order to present it to Inukjuak children.
I then contact the Inukjuak police officer who is also responsible for the Scouts. I explain my idea and propose that a moment be found where we could all meet. I would offer a weather presentation followed by a question and answer period. Posters are prepared with topics specifically chosen to encourage participation by the kids. On the given day, about ten Scouts show up with the chief. Sitting along a wall on the gym floor, we spend a good two hours discussing about weather and aviation.
I also had the opportunity to receive a few visitors in the flight service station, accompanied by their teacher. Other times, while taking a walk, it was possible to witness a shinny hockey game. For the picture below, two bystanders accepted to pose with the hockey players.
Hockey players in the Inukjuak village in 1982
(Next story: illegal fishing on the Innuksuak river)
