Winter dominates the Arctic and Polar regions, dictating life’s pace and reproductive cycles with unwavering precision. Evolution has gifted flora and fauna with remarkable adaptability, enabling them to thrive in these frigid environments. While humans’ natural physiological evolution isn’t suited to life in the cold, technological advancements and refined skills in food sourcing and shelter building have enabled civilisations to endure the long, often dark months below zero degrees Celsius for millennia.
For the last two years, I’ve been travelling to and working in Ilulissat, Kalaallit Nunaat (Greenland), a town that I feel exemplifies the successes of a sustained urban Arctic life. As Kalaallit Nunaat’s third-largest settlement, with a population of just 4,000 residents, Ilulissat thrives on the rich lifeblood of the fertile fishing grounds in the surrounding Disko Bay and within Ilulissat Kangerlua (Ilulissat Icefjord). Winters are long and hard, with bone-chilling frozen maritime temperatures and restricted daylight hours. However, the spirit of the community is largely focused on honouring any Arctic society’s social contract of unity and adapting to what the hibernal climate brings.
During the winter months, substantial snow cover conceals key town infrastructure, construction materials, the town’s daily street litter, road potholes, children’s playgrounds, municipal areas, much of the harbour’s assets, and the myriad of pathways that criss-cross the town.
Previous visits to Ilulissat had been exclusively during winter, so I had adapted to navigating the town laden with snow and ice. This meant a slower walking pace, but it also gave me the freedom to walk without worrying about what was underfoot. Even driving around town was effortless, whether in a car or on a snowmobile. So, when I returned in May, I had to adapt again – to the town’s vernal awakening and the stark absence of snow.
As the season transitioned, the urban landscape had transformed. Seasonal desire paths had thawed, snowmobile trails had melted into the softened tundra, and car parking areas were reshaped. Building infrastructure wear and tear was now visible, laundry lines were dancing in the wind again, and with the retreat of sea ice, weekly shipments of fresh produce ensured supermarkets were amply stocked. Rapid POCA fishing boats emerged from winter storage, and culturally important Kalaallit Qimmiat (Greenland Dog) pups caused mischief around town. With daytime temperatures consistently above 0°C, I joined the townsfolk by switching to an easily dressed wardrobe of jeans and trainers.
Whilst I traversed the town, enveloped by the radiant glow of 24-hour daylight and the regular pervasive veil of dense sea fog, I experienced a profound sense of privilege to witness its serene state prior to the commencement of the intense tourist season that spans June, July, and August. During this period, cruise ships, liberated from the navigation limitations imposed by coastal sea ice in the Labrador Sea, drop anchor in Disko Bay. From there, they embark on delivering thousands of day trippers eager to see the city-block-sized icebergs, calved from the colossal Sermeq Kujalleq glacier, as they move through Ilulissat Kangerlua (Ilulissat Kangerlua) onto the open Atlantic Ocean.
My next trip to Ilulissat will be once winter has set in again, so I’m pleased that I was there during the period When The Snow Leaves Town.
To see Ilulissat in winter, please see my gallery: Avannaata’s Analogous Light.
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