Deborah Dunleavy in Labrador

The Spirit of Labrador

Labrador is Canada’s best kept secret. A land of immense forests, rivers and lakes, it is home to three distinct populations – the Inuit; the Innu, who are the first nations’ people; and the white settlers. During the Book Week tour I had an opportunity to be with these amazing people who choose to live where winter dives down to minus one hundred, and living off of the land and the sea is both a passion and a necessity.

Rigolet is a northern coastal community of 300 people and is known as the most southern Inuit community in the world. My ears were still plugged as the Dash 8 landed on the snow-covered gravel airstrip. A handful of anxious people were there to get mail, food and other supplies. Since the ships have stopped coming by for the season, the airplanes are the only means of getting supplies in and out for coastal settlements like Rigolet.

I was met by Karl and driven up the winding trails past tiny dwellings placed at odd angles to one another on the rocky land. He took me to the B&B that he and his wife Sandi had just opened. No sooner had we arrived then the phone rang. It was the principal saying that I could come to the school for breakfast. This was welcome news after a having gotten up at five in the morning to catch the flight from Goose Bay.

Karl and Sandi run the one and only take out restaurant where I had most of my meals for the three days that I was in Rigolet. The caribou and salmon were delicious. And Sandi is an incredible baker so there was always fresh bread and desserts that I washed down with tea and sweet carnation milk.

In Rigolet, I discover the Labrador spirit of generosity and the simple honesty and innocence of the children. On the day I arrived I did two school presentations and in the evening I did a performance at the community hall. When the janitor took me to see the hall I was given a set of keys. Now that’s trust.

That evening there was a good turn out. I still see in my mind’s eye the teenage boy with his head on his girlfriend’s shoulder and the chubby eight-year-old girl with her dolly wrapped in a blanket.

Over the weekend I was taken by snowmobile to meet local artists where I got to hear their stories and to see first hand salt hay basket weaving, Inuit carving, and caribou tufting. On Sunday night, I joined in at the Anglican Church where we sang a multitude of songs and heard a sermon borrowing on the philosophy of Kierkegaard.

From the moment I landed on the airstrip I was known to everyone as Deborah and it broke my heart to tell six-year-old Samantha that I had to leave her village and move on to Hopedale where another chapter of this great adventure awaited my arrival.