"How Near How Far"

I wrote the first part of this entry while sitting on my First Air flight from Ottawa to Iqaluit -- a flight that has been, so far, entirely uneventful and entirely pleasant. Nick told us that the Northern airlines were the only airlines left that make flying civilized, and he's entirely right: superb service, excellent food, and plenty of both.

For example, my breakfast on our little three hour flight:

Yum! The first of many meals.

The plane we flow on from Ottawa to Iqaluit was a 60 seater, with the body divided into two sections -- the passenger section and the cargo section, which is toward the front of the plane (it's separated from the passenger section by a little removable wall). Our plane from Iqaluit to Clyde River and on to Pond Inlet was only an 18 seater, but had a similar layout.

There was this fascinating moment when making the journey up that I thought i'd share. We flew over Northern Ontario/Quebec for ages, which meant that we saw a mixture of trees and frozen, snowy lakes. I snapped a photo and watched the world slip by beneath us while listening to a playlist Kerstin put together for me. Every time I would glance down, the landscape remained the same: the dark of trees, the stark white of snow.

And then I looked back and everything was white. I felt a funny little jolt in my stomach. We'd flown pas the treeline and were not (and are now) in the Arctic.

The white of the landscape, peering down from the plane we were flying in, was not unbroken. It was textured by the change in terrain, by the bright light of the sun and the accompanying dark shadows. I've included pictures to share, and, although the detail is certainly lost in translation, the different interplay between dark and light below the treeline (more of a patchwork quilt) and above the treeline (more like scrimshaw) should still be evident. I've also included a picture of the place where land meets water -- the texture is totally different when viewed from the sky than the regular lay of the land. The sea ice is flat, but broken up by cracks, the dark of meltwater almost like the way cream cracks apart when it separates from milk.

Over Ontario

Above the treeline

Where land meets sea

We stepped off the plan in Iqaluit to find that, no, the Northern cold does not feel like a punch to the face, despite the fact that it was -30C. Instead, the air is crisp and clean and, certainly, it's cold, but not nearlyas bad as any of us had anticipated. Jenny headed off to catch her flight to Pang, but, before she left, we caught a photo of her and Brooke in front of the plane we'd just stepped off of.

Colourful!

We made it! "Our" plane in the background, Brooke, and Jenny in Iqaluit (and me, behind the camera!)

When Brooke and I boarded, we headed to Clyde River where the landing weather was questionable. Nonetheless, it was an excellent flight -- again, lots of delicious food, excellent service, and this time I managed to take a little nap. We landed without event and were hustled into the little airport to wait: it was a small, one-room building with a few chairs here or there. There was a drip coffee maker in the corner, along with a plug-in kettle, for visitors in need of a little pick-me-up. Because it was windy in Clyde, it was a bit colder than Iqaluit, but, again, not as cold as I'd expected.

Interestingly enough, once we switched to the smaller plane in Iqaluit, we found that we ended up wearing our parkas while we flew. The cabin was cold when we first got in! Things did warm up as we made progress from community to community, but it was definitely chilly at first. Plus, squished parka hoods make nice pillows.

The flight from Clyde to Pond Inlet was absolutely stunning -- I was glued to my window, camera in hand. I've included two photos that my computer handily enhanced, as well as one that hasn't been enhanced with  so that you can get a sense of what it looks like without digital filters. Getting good shots was tricky. The sun was incredibly bright -- almost white -- and the windows were scuffed, but I managed to snap a few passable ones. Believe me when I say that they don't even touch on the drama and beauty of the real deal. The interplay of shadow, light, the ridges, the drifts of snow... Phenomenal.

The enhanced photos read a little more true to what I was seeing than this one does, except for the over-saturation in the former. The landscape was very white, but was dramatically carved out by dark shadows, ranging from blue to grey. Every angle brought something new, and many mountain sides had rock that stood against both the shadow and the snow. It was truly magnificent.

We arrived in Pond without issue -- truly, our experience has been painless and hassle-free from start to finish (thanks to our airlines and, most importantly, to the man who arranged it all and has ensured we are well looked-after indeed). Dave, our host, picked us up at the airport and gave us a quick little tour aorund town. Pond is absolutely gorgeous; I can't wait to take pictures of everything! Dave and his wife, Pat, have been here since 1979, so Dave has plenty of information on how Pond has grown as a hamlet.

It's really time for me to turn in, so I'm going to close with a picture of what we found outside of the living room of Pat and Dave's home: an iceberg, illuminated by the setting sun. We may or may not have had melted iceberg to drink with dinner tonight (spoiler: we did, and it was the best tasting water I've ever had).

I'm here, I'm safe, I'm excited, and I'm happy. I'll check in again tomorrow with the scoop on my first full day here in Pond Inlet and my first day at my new school!

Not too shabby. Pretty to look at and tasty to drink!