Rites of Passage in the Arctic
More than 170 years since Sir John Franklin embarked on a doomed expedition to discover the fabled Northwest Passage, melting ice is opening up the Canadian Arctic to tourists. embarks on an intrepid voyage unable to afford expensive imports, controlled hunting is a sustainable means of survival. It’s also their connection to a cultural heritage spanning hundreds of years.
When John Rae came searching for Franklin in 1854, the Inuit were his most valuable source of information.
They spoke of white men on King William Island, and one even wore the gold braid from a naval uniform as a headband.
Startling reports of cannibalism, though, were not well received in Victorian England; Lady Franklin even tried to discredit Rae by asking Charles Dickens to pen damning pamphlets.
Although the final chapter of Franklin’s life remains inconclusive, three of his men – possibly the last survivors – were eventually found six feet under at Beechey Island.
On the day we visit, raging winds punish the land, beating shale dunes into reluctant submission.
Underfoot, 450-million-year-old coral fossils are evidence these tectonic plates were once at the Equator. Any warmth has since long gone, and it’s incredible to imagine this as a place of shelter when the sailors overwintered in 1845.
We toast their simple graves with a shot of whisky as marauding grey clouds threaten to steal the remains of our day.
Surprisingly, a kayak trip along the island’s sharp rising coastline is less extreme than expected. As kittiwakes weave between threads of mossy granite spooling into the water, I’m struck by how lively the Canadian Arctic can be. Right now, it feels overwhelmingly full.
“Pay attention to details and there’s so much to discover,” says assistant expedition leader Eva, a tough, blonde Swede who’s been navigating the Poles for more than two decades. “If I had one voyage left in the world, it would be here,” she says without hesitation. “So much is still unknown.”
She’s right. During our seven-day journey, covering more than a thousand nautical miles, I don’t see another ship.
In a few years, of course, that will likely change. This summer, the 1,070-person Crystal Serenity sailed through the Northwest Passage, signifying mass tourism is imminent. Whether or not this fragile environment can support so many visitors is questionable.
Equally controversial is the darker reality of increased access; the destruction threatened by climate change. The methane frozen in Arctic sea ice could double the amount of carbon monoxide in our atmosphere overnight.
A thought more chilling than the biting polar air. Ironically, the route Norwegian Roald Amundsen eventually claimed through the Rae Strait in 1906 is almost irrelevant. Today, there are multiple northwest passages and every year, new possibilities emerge.
The opportunity for discovery is undoubtedly growing. And so is our insatiable desire to explore – at any cost.