The blog excerpt below is an excerpt from Bruce Parry's new book "Arctic," an exploration of life in some of the world's most forbidding areas.
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Qaanaaq Fjord - Rasmus has run out of walrus meat so the dogs will have to make do with dry biscuits. Unless we get some meat we're all going to go hungry, that's the way of it out here. The dogs need meat and we need something too. Before we head off to the seal hunting grounds, however, he insists we first attend to the basics: a good cup of tea and brushing our teeth. We enjoy the simple intimacy of this shared ritual. We're looking for seal today. We have to spread out so we can observe the landscape, but it really is the proverbial needle in a haystack, there's such a flat expanse of snow. We're stopping every now and then, scanning the horizon for seals that might be out sunning themselves on the floe.
After five hours of searching, Mads Ole finally spots a ringed seal at a huge distance. I stay with the dogs while he begins to venture forward over the ice to make sure they don't chase after him. They're pining for their boss already. I hold them back with the whip until, at last, the sound of the gunshot tells us it's time to go forward together. He has taken a seal with a perfect shot right behind the eyes. Of course the last thing you'd want is for it to be injured, maimed, and for it to escape back through its hole in the ice. Looking around it would be easy to think this is a barren wasteland, but beneath our feet is a rich marine ecosystem, supporting fish, walrus and thousands of ringed seals. These are the most common marine mammals in the Arctic; they are a staple for the main predators, the polar bears and the Inuit hunters.
Adolph has seen two seals on the floes close together, far ahead of us. He says I can go with him this time, as long as I camouflage myself by turning my anorak inside out. I must keep in line and stay quiet.
Before rifles arrived in the Far North Inuit hunters would have stalked seals in this way, but with a spear. It would have taken a lot of time and skill to get close enough to make a kill. Even now, it still takes almost half an hour for him to approach within firing distance. Slowly he walks, then crouches, then slides forward on the ice. Another ten minutes, he moves forward another 20 feet or so and stops to control his breathing. He gradually lies down, takes aim and fires. Like Mads Ole, he hits the seal just behind the eyes, another clean kill. This kill represents life. The only way to survive in the North is through the death of these animals.
There is no other way. There is a little bit of gathering, a few berries and tubers that can be found in the summer, but otherwise all of your food comes from animals such as this. It has to be like this and to deprive people of this is to say that they must not be here. It's as simple as that. This cycle of life and death does represent the traditional way for peoples of the North.
Sadly it is the world's hunter-gatherers who are most affected by the changes to the natural world, which most of us are unaware of. Slight shifts in environmental conditions can have dramatic effects on animals and their habits, which in turn can have a huge effect on the success of the hunt. Only when I am out on the ice, cold but alive and alert, can I get the faintest glimpse of what life for the Inuit of Greenland in days past must have been like. In Africa or in the jungle, if a hunter didn't catch his meat he could collect berries or fruit or tubers; he may go hungry but not cold. Here animals provide food, clothing, shelter and the means to heat the shelter. Meat and blubber, bones, skin and antler is everything for life.
While I was with Adolph, Rasmus got a seal of his own. We head off to look for a place to camp and after an hour or so, stop by a glacial iceberg for fresh water. As soon as the tents are up, Adolph starts to butcher his seal. He takes care not to rip the skin, which is used to make gloves and boots. 'We use every part of it,' he explains, wielding his short knife with a surgeon's precision. 'It's only the sungaq (gall-bladder) that we don't need.' The skin will be used for clothing for the family, or be given away or sold if it's a nice pelt and they have no need for it. Of course all the meat and blubber will be eaten, both by the family and dogs. If it's been freshly cut soon after the kill on the ice, many hunters will eat the liver. And then the bits that the humans might not want - the flippers, the tail - the dogs eat without a second's thought. The Inuit used to be called Eskimos, 'eaters of raw meat' by the Cree tribe in northern Canada. In the days before kerosene, meat would only be cooked up here if absolutely necessary and raw seal remains popular today.
Chewy, steamy, seal stomach skin with liver is my lunch and Adolph cuts me a piece straight from the carcass. So tender, it melts, almost vanishes in my mouth. It's one of the best things I've ever tasted. I ask for a second helping but Adolph offers me something even more exotic: a freshly squeezed seal eyeball. This is right up there on the list of the weirdest things I've ever eaten and the thought of gulping it down is horrendous. The camera rolls, I close my eyes and tuck in. In actual fact, it tasted like a pretty bland jelly but I won't be doing it again, ever. When we've eaten our fill it's the dogs' turn, who deserve it far more than we do, having pulled us non-stop for about 60 kilometres. The dogs have done all of that work - hard work - and they deserve every bit of this. We settle in camp for the night.
Though climate change is making things unpredictable out on the ice, Rasmus is more worried about imposed limits on the animals he can kill. New quotas have been recently introduced after pressure from outsiders, particularly animal rights campaigners. 'We are hunters,' he says, 'but we don't wipe out the animals. We just get a few. We are friendlier to the environment than polluting countries. They don't understand us. They've limited us too much and I don't like it.' It's time to head back to Qaanaaq. We didn't get any big animals but at least we're not going back empty handed. There are so few traditional hunters left in Greenland, they are much more endangered than the animals they are hunting. Though I understand the need for controls, it would be a tragedy if the Inuit were forced to give up this way of life and their connection with the Arctic environment was broken.
