Travel
From traditional foods to handmade goods, travelers get a glimpse of Inughuit life in Qaanaaq. Here’s how to visit this remote coastal community.
ByJustin Fornal
Published December 13, 2023
• 12 min read
An armada of towering icebergs has arrived along the coastline of Qaanaaq, Greenland.
They seem to have appeared in the blink of an eye as if summoned from the depths of Inglefield Bay. The floating sentinels—some the size of a city block—sit scattered casually across the coast.
With an average drift speed of .4 miles per hour (and higher speeds of two miles per hour), icebergs can appear quite quickly, rendering vital shipping lanes into impenetrable blockades in just a matter of hours. Both icebergs and floating ice sheets have been known to halt maritime traffic in towns like Qaanaaq for days (and occasionally weeks) at a time. I know I won’t be leaving Qaanaaq by boat anytime soon.
The area above the Arctic Circle known collectively as the High Arctic is one of the few places on the planet where the traditional rhythms of wind, tide, and animal movements still direct one’s schedule.
With a current population of 646, Qaanaaq is the central town in northwestern Greenland’s Avanersuaq district, one of the world’s least densely populated administrative zones. It is home to a community of Inughuit, historically known as Smith Sound Inuit or Arctic Highlanders.
Until the last century, Inughuit peoples survived primarily by utilizing every part of their sea mammal prey. In this land without trees, everything—clothing, sleds, tools, weapons, fuel, kayaks, and even parts of structural dwellings—came from sea mammals. The villages of northwestern Greenland are one of the last remaining places to experience the remnants of ancient Arctic life.
Despite modernization and imported goods, elements of the traditional diet still hold firm. I’m here to learn more about these fascinating old foodways—and taste some of the delicacies myself, from fermented seabird to fresh narwhal.
(Learn about the art of chasing icebergs in Newfoundland.)
Kiviak: traditional Arctic food
“Would you like to try some kiviak? It has a strong smell, so we have to eat it outside,” says Birthe Jenson, one of the chefs at Hotel Qaanaaq. The hotel has long been one of the few places in town where travelers can rent a room. [It is currently closed as it changes management.] It’s the last comfort stop for many travelers venturing farther north into the vast Arctic wilderness. And while there are no conventional restaurants in town, some local families are more than happy to accommodate travelers with home-cooked local fare.
Kiviak is an Arctic delicacy made by stuffing hundreds of birds, most commonly little auks (Alle alle), also known as dovekies, a small black-and-white seabird, inside of a fresh seal skin. Once full, the carcass is stitched closed and placed under a mound of heavy rocks to ensure the sunlight does not hit the package. Months later, the fermented birds are removed, cleaned, and eaten.
While traditional, animal-sourced fermented foods such as kiviak are becoming less common, they continue to garner attention for their unique cultural and scientific significance. Inuk microbiologist Aviaja Lyberth Hauptmann, who recently established a microbiology lab at the University of Greenland, in Nuuk, is researching how traditional Inuit foodways impact the human gut microbiome. Hauptmann’s research has shown that traditional Greenlandic foods have increased microbial diversity, which could mean better overall health for those who consume them.
(Meet the Thai women reviving ancient recipes in Bangkok.)
Jenson and I stand on the front stoop of Hotel Qaanaaq, giggling like two teenagers sneaking a cigarette as she peels open a plastic container. She hands me a bird the size of a bagel and instructs me to simply peel the feathers and pull off some meat. It comes apart easily, and the flavor is a divine revelation. The flesh is initially very fruity—like ripe plums—followed by a long Parmesan cheese finish. I was nervous the kiviak would taste like the ammonia-flavored hakarl (fermented shark) of Iceland, but I am delighted to encounter meaty piquant notes more reminiscent of Egyptian feseekh (fermented gray mullet fish).
As we both chew in silent delight, I wonder how many Arctic traditions like kiviak, born of both ingenuity and necessity, have already been lost to history. At this very moment, what textile, song, recipe, ceremony, or medicine exists only in the mind of a single elder?
Indigenous hunting traditions in Greenland
Qaanaaq has more Greenlandic sled dogs than people. When I walk past a team of dogs, they raise their heads in curiosity but don’t bark. Every year when the sea begins to freeze, all the boats are pulled onto land. As soon as the sea ice is solid, hunters will travel across it via dog sled in search of seals, polar bears, narwhals, walruses, and a number of other animals in hopes of feeding their families—and sled dogs.
Hunting in Greenland is strictly regulated, following annual quotas issued by the government, a process in which input from biologists is officially included. In Qaanaaq and the surrounding villages, hunters only catch narwhal using the traditional methods of kayak and harpoon.
(Here’s where to find narwhals in the Arctic.)
To learn more about traditional food processing and what happens after the hunt, Jenson suggests I visit Saki Daorana. “Her husband has returned from a hunt and she could use your assistance.”
Daorana is a Japanese expat who first visited Greenland in 1997. While on a kayaking expedition to Qaanaaq, she met local hunter Panigpak, and soon after, the two were married. Twenty-five years and three children later, she operates Ultima Thule, an outfitter that specializes in designing custom trips to remote areas of Greenland. Daorana is also happy to help carry on the hunting traditions that permitted her husband’s ancestors to survive in one of the world’s harshest climates for thousands of years.
I find her atop a raised scaffold holding a large knife. Every hunter in town has an ikaaq, a free-standing wooden platform about the height of a lifeguard’s chair where they butcher and preserve meat safely out of the reach of hungry dogs. Daorana is squatting amid massive cuts of ruby-hued flesh next to a large steel pot. The pieces of meat are so large they are more reminiscent of slabs of lumber than something one might find in a butcher shop.
“My husband got a narwhal,” she says. “Would you like to help preserve it?”
I am instructed on how to cut the meat in one-inch-thick slices, then dip it into the pot of soy sauce and spices, and drape it over the beams of the platform. The lean meat will quickly dry out, making it a perfect preserved food to help her family survive the upcoming winter.
Next to the meat is a serving plate of white glistening cubes.
“This is the mattak [skin and blubber], if you would like to try some,” Daorana says. “It is high in vitamin C. It is a cornerstone of the traditional diet that prevented ancient Arctic people from getting scurvy.”
The blubber is chewy, oily, and warming, while the skin offers a satisfying crunch.
“Hunting is central to the Inughuit identity,” Daorana tells me. “It is not an easy lifestyle.” She says that not all families are able to survive solely by hunting and gathering anymore and must rely on imported foods from mainland Europe.
But, she says, “there are some young people here who are very passionate about becoming hunters like their elders. Without them, this way of life will be gone in a few generations.”
(This centuries-old British weaving tradition might soon be lost.)
Traditional foraging in Greenland
Siorapaluk, the only village north of Qaanaaq, is also the northernmost Indigenous settlement. Its tiny population fluctuates seasonally between 20 and 60 people. “There are traditions alive in Siorapaluk you will not even find in Qaanaaq,” Saki Daorana had told me.
I arrive on its shores via Captain Argiunnquaq Qaernagag’s hunting boat. I wander about town passing a few houses with prominently displayed narwhal tusks, muskox horns, and walrus skulls. As I walk past a fisherman cleaning a pile of freshly caught Arctic char, he hands me a raw filet as a sign of hospitality. The clean pink flesh still has a refreshing taste of oceanic brine.
As the town is small, I soon find myself standing in the tundra. It is late August: the perfect time to forage for extremophile plants that survive and thrive right up to the icecap. The field is freckled with dazzling magenta fireweed flowers. I carefully pick a small bouquet to dry out. Between the flowers, I spot tiny black crowberries. I enjoy a handful of the tart, sour fruits and quickly realize I am not alone.
“Do you like the taste?”
I look up to see a man who has come out to join my botanical quest. He introduces himself as Maassannguaq Oshima and I realize I am plucking my way through his backyard. He generously points to a patch of mountain sorrel. “Try this one,” he says. “It is used to make a nice drink. You can have it with some glacier ice.”
(Here’s how urban foraging became the new way to explore a city.)
We continue walking together, identifying Arctic plants and discussing their various uses. He points out Cladonia alpestris, a pale green lichen also known as reindeer lichen as it is the preferred food of reindeer and caribou during winter months.
“A Greenlandic name for that plant is orsuaasat,” he says. “You can just cook it like any plant, but the old hunters say it is best when it has been partially digested and fermented in the stomach of a caribou. That is the old way. It is not done as much anymore.”
As we continue exploring the hillside, I recall something Saki Daorana had told me: “This place is certainly not for everyone, but if you love it, there is no place like it in the world.”
What to know
How to get there
Most flights to Greenland depart from Copenhagen, Denmark. There are easy connections to a domestic flight from the hub airport Kangerlussuaq. Local flights to Qaanaaq often include an overnight stay in Ilulissat, which has restaurants and attractions, including boat tours to see the icebergs just outside town. There are also flights from Reykjavik, Iceland, to Ilulissat. This is a seasonal route that flies in spring and summer with smaller aircraft.
Several cruise lines, including Silversea, offer High Arctic packages that make a stop in Qaanaaq.
Recommended guides
Ultima Thule: Whether you’re traveling to Northern Greenland on a cultural journey or a scientific expedition, Saki Daorana’s company can arrange all the details.
Visit Greenland has information on more outfitters in Qaanaaq.
Where to stay
Hotel Qaanaaq: The only hotel in town is currently closed as it changes management.
Iherit: Rent a single room or rent the entire house. It includes a kitchen, hot water, washing machine, and wifi.
Qaanaaq Accommodation: Two rooms are available with a nice view of town. One room has two twin beds, the other has one king-size bed.
What to do
In the summer, a day is well spent hiking up to the icecap or exploring the sea via a hunter’s boat. In the spring, enjoy riding a dog sled across the sea ice.
Eqilana Sadorana Simigaq is one of several traditional textile experts living in Qaanaaq. She produces and sells clothing, including aeqqatit (mittens) and kamiit (boots).
Among the region’s many talented carvers working in bone and horn are Niels Miunge and Pullaq Odaaq in Qaanaaq, and Peter Duneq in Siorapaluk. Each artist has original works for sale but can also accommodate a custom order. Items include necklaces, bracelets, traditional snow goggles, and the small demon-like figurines known as tupilaks.
The Qaanaaq Museum (limited hours of operation) has a fascinating collection of artifacts from the region, including a piece of the Cape York Meteorite you can touch and a traditional hunter’s stool made from walrus baculums.
Justin Fornal is a field researcher specializing in vanishing cultural traditions. He is the founder of the History, Arts, & Science Action Network. Follow him on Instagram.
>>> Read full article>>>
Copyright for syndicated content belongs to the linked Source : National Geographic – https://www.nationalgeographic.com/travel/article/greenland-last-place-explore-ancient-arctic-life
