Stories we loved to tell: Separating ‘sealift incident’ fact from fiction is what journalists thrive on
Sight of sea cans bobbing in the water in October was the very definition of a big, breaking news story
This photo that Iqaluit resident Jason Harasimo posted on Facebook on a Friday afternoon in late October was an early indication something wasn’t right about the unloading of a sealift ship in Koojesse Inlet on Oct. 28. When breaking news happens, sorting out fact from fiction is what journalists live for. (Photo by Jason Harasimo, special to Nunatisaq News)
In this year-end series, Nunatsiaq News reporters look back on their most memorable stories from 2023.
The image of two dozen blue sea cans bobbing in Koojesse Inlet, with tugboats scrambling to corral them before they drifted away, isn’t the kind of thing you see every day.
That’s how you recognize a big breaking news story.
The shipping containers tumbled into the water on Oct. 27 around Iqaluit’s deepsea port. They were filled with food, beverages, equipment and mechanical parts headed for stores in Iqaluit.
The containers were being shuttled from the Sivumut cargo ship to shore aboard a barge when they slipped into the water.
It was Friday at 5 p.m., and everyone was winding down for the week. But reporter Jeff Pelletier saw some Facebook chatter about what would later be described as a “sealift incident” and a picture of the wayward sea cans that Iqaluit resident Jason Harasimo posted with the understated caption: “That’s not good.”
Breaking news. Uncertain circumstances. Tight deadline. It’s what journalists live for. Find out as much as you can in a short period, tell your readers, then update them on further developments.
Recognizing that this oddity could be a dangerous recovery effort, an economic hit and possibly an environmental concern, our Nunatsiaq News team pulled together.
Pelletier went to get pictures and take notes about the response by the coast guard, emergency services and NEAS shipping company. But by 6 p.m. on a late October night, it was too dark to see much.
Web editor Randi Beers pitched in after hours — as dedicated journalists do — to edit the story I cobbled together from bits of information coming in from a variety of sources.
The Government of Nunavut issued social media statements, urging boaters “to use extreme caution” to avoid the hazard posed by the sea cans that were floating toward Apex.
The RCMP didn’t have much to say, other than to dispel a social media rumour that someone had died. Sea cans in the drink wasn’t a criminal matter. We later learned this kind of incident falls under the Canadian Coast Guard’s jurisdiction.
City of Iqaluit spokesperson Kent Driscoll provided a just-the-facts statement about what he knew of the city’s response — an ambulance was dispatched to the port area to treat someone with what were described as “minor injuries.”
We learned later that person’s injuries required him to be medevaced to Ottawa and NEAS CEO Daniel Dagenais reported the man in the water was recovering from the ordeal of the “severe trauma” of being exposed to the cold water.
The next day, Pelletier followed the story. Iqaluit was abuzz with talk about the sea cans, one of which washed up on the low tide near Rotary Park in Apex.
There were jokes that the sea can was loaded with cases of beer, prompting the tongue-in-cheek renaming of the area as “Molson Inlet.”
Someone posted a doctored photograph showing people lined up at the sea can like it was the beer and wine store.
In the days afterward, separating fact from fiction was one of the challenges Nunatsiaq News reporters faced.
It could have been much worse. Readers needed to know what was going on.
Breaking news is one of the most exciting parts of journalism. That’s why the Iqaluit “sealift incident” was one of the 2023 stories I loved to tell.




There was a sea can filled with beer that washed up outside of apex.
There were other containers that washed up down the bay. It was a full moon and many people skipped clam digging to boat down the bay to scavenge the containers that washed up father down the seashore
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