A Walk Down the Hill

Life in the hamlet here near(ish) the top of the world continues apace. I stayed in last night because there's been a little bug going around and I was awfully zonked, but a good night's sleep did me wonders and I had a wonderful day today. Teaching in this new school environment and new classroom communities has really started to feel normal, like yes, I know how to do this and yes, this is the same work that I love to do. After a somewhat shaky start yesterday, I felt more deeply like myself at the front of the room today -- well, my teacher-self, with the bad jokes and quips and the thoughtful pondering of a story and the occasional raised eyebrows you-know-better-and-I-know-you-know-better look.

The day started, as days tend to start, with sunrise. It's incredible how much sunlight we gain every day: when Brooke and I arrived, the sun was setting at 6:35. Last night, it didn't set until 7:15. And we gain as much time every morning, except that I'm rarely coherent enough or caffeinated enough to appreciate it. This morning, however, I managed to snap a picture of the pink light over the mountains in the distance (justice is definitely not done to the beauty of the sight my eyes took in).

It was even pinker in real life. Oh, these mountains.

Brooke and I walked to school yesterday morning, which was kind of awful: we are staying at one end of town and school is at the other end, about a 15-20 minute walk away. Except that, going to school, that was is all Up. And the way we took, kind of by accident, was both Very Steep and Very Up. So we got to school, sweating inside of our beautiful parkas, with frosted eyelashes and eyebrows and extremely cognizant of the fact that, if we were out on the land, sweating like that could be a death sentence.

Today, however, we decided to walk back at the end of the day: down the hill and the less steep one at that. It was a gorgeous walk and, although by the end of the 25 minutes (we meandered) I could certainly feel the cold against my cheeks, it was still lovely. A mere -30C... Hard to believe that, a week and a half after arriving, we can walk in the door of the Parks's home and be asked if our walk was a cold one and reply, honestly and heartily, Nope! It was lovely!

Not to say that I would love to live permanently and year-round in -30 degree weather. A little bit warmer is also nice. In fact, it's going to be -24 later in the week, and I'm pretty excited to hit that low in the -20s. Just in time for us to go out on the land this weekend!

On our walk, Brooke and I would occasionally pause our meandering to take some photographs of that incredibly blue sky, the town, and, occasionally, those impossibly beautiful mountains.

The hamlet building (like town hall) and the fire station. As an added bonus, that beautiful NU flag.

Mountains and wires.

The infamous iceberg from a difference angle, an intersection in town, and the most popular mode of transport: a snowmobile (although there are certainly more trucks and cars than I'd anticipated -- and many of them are shiny and new!).

Sealskin kamiks hanging outside the door of a house. The cold keeps the skin pliant and ensures that the sealskin continues to keep those feet warm (sealskin mitts from Pond, for example, aren't much good when you head more south -- unless you keep them in the freezer).

A kamotik, loaded with fuel and a caribou pelt for coziness, with some lovely bi-colour seals frozen in the background.

Brooke, heading down the road and toward our house here in Pond Inlet.

Certainly, while the teaching process feels mostly familiar, this landscape is continually wondrous. I wake up every morning excited to drink in all of the sights and my camera is on me at all times. There is so much here I want to share, to take with me, to remember. The way the light changes every day and throughout the day, the colours in the sky, the beauty that is stark and sumptuous at once -- so much more than I ever expected.