(Precedent story: raisins and blueberries in Inukjuak)
The wheelhouse of a cargo ship near Inukjuak in 1982
A 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 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 Canada flight 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: 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)
(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)
