My trip in the Arctic began in Iqaluit, a town of about six thousand people in the southeast corner of Baffin Island and the capital of the Canadian territory of Nunavut. Nunavut, which has a total population of about thirty thousand, became a territory of Canada nine years ago, in April 1999; previously, it had been part of the Northwest Territories. Sovereignty has, I gather, been a boon for the town, bringing money and people from the south. Our tour guide in town, Claude, was one of these migrants; he was an artisan from the Maritimes who had moved north to teach craftsmanship and expand the range of materials he was working with. He had taught all over the territory and employed materials that included such exotics as polar bear teeth and whale baleen — both available to the Inuit, who are allowed to hunt bears and whales under a quota system.

Life in the North is pricy. Housing is scarce and expensive. Nineteen percent of Nunavut residents live in rooms with more than one person, four times the rate for the rest of Canada. Heating prices are high — unsurprising, given the average December low temperature of -26 C. Claude estimated that he spent about $100 a month on utilities, not including his $1000 a month gas bill. The buildings in Iqaluit, as elsewhere in the Arctic, are generally built on stilts so as to avoid melting the underlying permafrost. A few are built upon cement blocks, but these blocks then need to be refrigerated so that their temperatures never rise above the melting point of ice, a rather expensive proposition. The new, glass-rich Legislative Assembly building, one of the centerpieces of Iqaluit is, like most of the house, elevated.
Add to the cost of heating the cost of transporation. Food and other consumer products in Nunavut must be shipped from the south in a process that accentuates the high cost of oil. In the Northern grocery store in Arctic Bay, at the northwestern tip of Baffin Island, my father spent several minutes staring and trying to convince himself that a 64 oz bottle of cranberry juice really did cost $30. (They go for about $6 in the continental US). Non-perishable and nutritious perishable foods can be shipped at deep discounts through Canada Post’s Food Mail program, but the jug of cranberry juice clearly was not. The same grocery store also had rotting bananas for sale the first time we took a look inside. (It was a Sunday morning; by early afternoon, that had been replaced by green bananas.)
Southerners who come north to Nunavut are sometimes given a stipend to cover the high cost of living. The Inuit residents supplement by hunting a wide range of local animals, from Arctic hares and foxes to polar bears and whales. (A press release from the government posted in the Arctic Bay Northern protested the U.S. decision to list polar bears as a threatened species.)
Because of the governmental presence, Iqaluit is one of the best-off communities in Nunavut. Arctic Bay, where we ended the trip, presented a rather more grim view of the territory. In this town of seven hundred, many people live in houses with boarded-up windows. Orphaned kids roam the streets. I don’t know where they go in the wintertime, but in the 24-hour daylight of summer they seemed to be up all night, even at two in the morning. The two nicest buildings in town are the Northern store and the government health clinic. Alcoholism is rampant; the tour guide our expedition leader had hired to show us around town Sunday morning forfeited the money she would have earned for guiding one hundred people because she was home with a hangover. The steep skree slopes on the hillsides, with inclines approaching sixty degrees, are marked where thrill-seeking kids have tried to ride their skidoos up them. Late on Sunday morning, three girls were racing around town on a skidoo. At one point, we saw the skidoo overturn; fortunately, nobody was hurt, but they easily could have been.
The three towns we visited in West Greenland — Sisimiut (pop. 6200) and Ilulissat (pop. 4500) especially, and to some extent also Uummannaq (pop. 1500) — were by comparison better off than anywhere in Nunavut — perhaps related to the fact that Greenland has been a self-governing territory for twenty years longer than Nunavut has existed. Unlike Iqualuit or Arctic Bay, Sisimiut and Ilulissat have deep-water ports; our ship, the Akademik Ioffe, docked and took on supplies at Sisimiut. Almost all roads in these towns were paved; those with Blackberries reported receiving data as well as voice signals. (Iqaluit had a CDMA cell phone signal, which provided voice service to those with Verizon phones.) The buildings, like those of Scandinavian towns, are brightly colored, which is probably better for the mental health of the inhibatants than the drab colors of Iqaluit. (Arctic Bay was also drab, but the buildings of that town have rather more severe problems than their choice of paint.)
Ilulissat sits near the mouth of the fjord carved by Jakobshavn Isbrae, the fast-retreating glacier that drains about 6% of the Greenland Ice Sheet, produces abundant icebergs, and whose front has retreated rapidly over the last 160 years — clocked at about 6 kilometers per year from 1992 to 1997, and accelerating to about 12 kilometers per year by 2003. In 2004, the region, under the name of Ilulissat Icefjord, was named a World Heritage Site. According to a figure in the recently-renovated Ilulissat museum, tourism to the region has increased rapidly since the declaration, a fact most likely reflected not only by the renovation of the museum, but also by the active road crews we encountered.
In short, West Greenland, with nearly three decades of self-government and a boom of tourist interest driven by climate change, appears to be prospering. (Mineral resources made accessible by the melting glaciers may also contribute to the economic boom in the future.) Nunavut, less than a decade old, still seems to be finding its way.