Berry Picking in Nunavut
Connecting with the land through an annual harvest
In Nunavut, one of Canada’s Arctic territories, seasons behave differently than in other parts of the Northern Hemisphere. Winters are long and dark, lasting from the first snow in October to the last days of sub-freezing temperatures in May. Summers are short and sweet, starting in June and tapering off in late August. My favorite season in Iqaluit, Nunavut’s capital and the place I call home, is autumn. In September, low-lying plant life bursts into flame, with deep reds and bright yellows covering the hillsides. This signifies one of the most important times of the year: berry-picking season.
The hills around Iqaluit come alive with crowberries (paurngaq), boreal blueberries (kigutangirnaq), and cranberries (kimminnaq). Further afield, one can also find the much-coveted cloudberry (aqpik), but the location is a closely guarded secret. During this special time, families hike to ancestral harvesting spots, plastic buckets and berry rakes in tow, to reap the bounty of the land.
As a settler living in an Inuit community, I take great care in my consumption of these precious resources. Rather than a bucket, I hike with a Tupperware container, ready to harvest a small batch of sweet, mild blueberries. It is expected that able-bodied folks will hike higher and farther, leaving more easily accessible berries for elders. To this end, I hike as high as I can before searching for a promising patch. Once I’ve found one, I hunker down and pick each berry slowly and with great intention. I relish the quiet — only the wind and the occasional raven break the silence. When I am picking berries, I feel connected to the land and to myself.
Once I have filled up my Tupperware about halfway, it is time to head home. In my kitchen, I sort through the berries, disposing of rogue leaves, twigs, and lichen, before giving them a good rinse and storing them in a freezer bag for later consumption. I savor my berries throughout the winter, eating them raw, baking them into muffins, and adding them to my oatmeal. They are the sweetest reminder of autumn during the darkest, coldest time of the year.
I feel privileged to take part in a tradition that connects me with this exceedingly special place. The land, or nuna, shows its brilliance in each season, and I am grateful to experience them all. The time will come for my next autumnal journey to the hills, and I will once again sit quietly, harvesting only what I need and leaving the rest.
Is there an activity that makes you feel especially connected to the land? Drop a comment and let me know!
Follow along for more stories about travel and appreciating the small wonders of the world
