Hunting for the Right Words

Skywaterskywaterskywatersky.

It feels clean and good to be out in the openness of Cumberland Sound. No mosquitoes. Just skywaterskywatersky. Icebergs. Seagulls. The gentle rocking lulls me and I fight to keep my eyes open, not wanting to miss a second of this day.

Joanasie Karpik, elder and hunter, looks back over his shoulder at us and chuckles. Maybe he’s checking to see that no one has fallen in, or that we’re not scared, or maybe he finds the situation humorous – seven Qallunaat squeezed into his boat, all bundled up against the July wind. Or perhaps he’s laughing at the delight of the sun and the sky and the water. Joanasie’s 15-year-old grandson, Markus, clad in a baseball cap, parka and track pants, huddles at the back of the boat, fiddling with the motor. Leelee, his 10-year-old grandson, is fast asleep in the cabin up front. I don’t have the nautical language to fully describe ...