My Little Corner of Canada, April 24

It was November 1974. We had just completed a land claims conference in Pond Inlet.

At the five-day conference, the Inuit Tapirisat of Canada (ITK now) had presented its land claims proposal to the delegates, who came from all Inuit communities in the Northwest Territories.

The conference was exhausting and the issues were complex. Each conference day lasted 10 to 12 hours.

In the end, the ITC was given the mandate it needed to present the proposal to the Government of Canada and to begin negotiations. We were all happy about the successful conference and to be going home.

The delegates from Clyde River, Qikiqtarjuaq, Pangnirtung, Iqaluit, Kimmirut, Cape Dorset, as well as some ITC staff from Ottawa boarded a chartered DC-3 in the afternoon and headed south. There were 26 people on board.

The pilot informed us that the plan was to land in Clyde River, refuel in Qikiqtarjuaq or Pangnirtung and then fly on to Iqaluit.

We landed in Clyde River as planned. We noticed that the wind was picking up. We took off again and headed for Qikiqtarjuaq.

About an hour later, the pilot informed us that the weather was bad in Qikiqtarjuaq and that we were flying on to Pangnirtung. The weather there was also bad and the pilot announced that we were headed for Iqaluit.

Half an hour later, we noticed that it was getting really cold in the cabin. I was sitting near the front so I asked the mechanic if anything was wrong.

He turned towards me. His face was ghostly white.

“We have run out of fuel. We are going to crash,” he said.

My life flashed before my eyes.

The news spread fast throughout the plane. We all buckled up. I heard someone starting to cry. I heard someone else praying softly.

It was November. It was snowing heavily. It was dark. We knew the terrain was hilly with huge boulders all around. We all stared death in the face.

I could see the front windshield was fogging up with ice. I saw the pilot open up a side window. Steering with his right hand, he stuck his left hand out and started wiping away the ice with his bare hand.

I caught a glimpse of the ground and hills flashing by. We touched ground. Our left wing clipped a huge boulder. Then the plane stopped.

We had landed on a small lake covered with soft deep snow. We all jumped out the windows and doors. No one was hurt.

As we jumped onto the soft snow, we all realized we had just escaped certain death. Cries of joy and cheering erupted and we all hugged each other.

The pilot had managed to radio our approximate position to Iqaluit. Half an hour later we heard an aircraft flying over us. We couldn’t see it in the snowstorm, but we knew then that we would be rescued.

That night, we huddled close together in the plane and managed to get a little bit of sleep.

The next morning was bright and clear. It was then we could see just how lucky we were. The small lake was surrounded by rocky hills and boulders.

In the afternoon, a Twin Otter managed to land on the small lake. It took four passengers and took off for Iqaluit. They did not want to risk another landing because the snow was too soft and deep.

That evening, a Hercules aircraft dropped food, blankets and a radio. We had to endure another night sleeping in the plane.

The next morning, a large helicopter finally arrived from Labrador and picked us up.

A couple of months later, the ITC hired me as the Executive Director of the Inuit Claims Commission. A lot has happened since then.