Original Greenland kayaking

[gasserra]

This quite a long post, but I thought it might interest those who have an interest in original Greenland kayaking. A couple of months ago, I came across an old book, “Voyage to Greenland” (published by Norton, 1977) written by Frederica de Laguna. This book is a first hand account of de Laguna’s travels in western Greenland in 1929, when, as a graduate student in her early 20’s, she accompanied the Danish archaeologist and ethnologist, Therkel Matthiassen, on a summer expedition at various sites along the western Greenland coast north of Disko Bay. Most of the book recounts their work excavating at various sites, but she included a lot about her observations of Eskimo life. Some of her observations bear on kayaking, and I thought that they reflect interesting perspectives that we don’t much hear. I’ve stuck in a few of my own comments in parentheses.

“It is quite a job to get into a kayak. You hold the boat steady by laying the paddle down across the deck with one end resting on shore, grasping it firmly to the kayak with one hand. Then you step carefully into the manhole, sit down just behind it, and gradually insinuate yourself into the bowels of the infernal contrivance. Once in, you are in for good. There was just room for my feet between the top deck and the bottom.
The manhole was slightly too large around the waist for me, and there was no "half-jacket" of waterproof sealskin to fasten around the manhole at the bottom and around my body under the arms to keep the water out. The kayak is so long and narrow that you have to sit with your legs straight in front of you. One can be quite comfortable with a good piece of sealskin folded for a cushion. Ruth Otto, the governor's daughter, and the assistant followed me in a rowboat to rescue me if I should capsize. I wore no gloves, so every stroke of the double paddle dripped icy water down the blade and up my arm. The well-dressed kayaker wears long sealskin mittens, tied high above the wrist, with woolen mitts inside, so his hands stay dry and warm. In stormy weather he wears a complete sealskin jacket that ties tight about his face and wrists. (Comment: she rarely observed paddlers wearing tuiliks—mostly they wore woolen anoraks and wool caps. Her photos show kayakers wearing anoraks that are little more than hooded sweaters, typically with the hoods down, and brimmed caps that look like touring caps)

"I pushed off from land somewhat timidly at first, but soon gained confidence. The kayak is the easiest craft in the world to paddle. The least motion with the sharp-bladed paddle sends you shooting forward, and you can turn on a dime. I outdistanced the rowboat in half a dozen strokes. It was great fun poking about between the icebergs. One is so close to the surface of the water, the experienced kayaker must feel himself part of his craft in a very intimate way. I paddled out to the island, where the men at work greeted me with shouts and laughter, and then circumnavigated it. It began to rain, and by the time I came back to land I was pretty wet, for not only had water spilled down the manhole from the paddle, but the boat had not been in the water for some days, so the seams were open and leaked.

"It is beautiful to see the natives go out in their kayaks. They are dressed in white anoraks, with white caps on their heads, and the kayaks themselves are painted white. At first, I thought it was horrid to use European paint on the sealskin, but Matthiassen tells me that it is camouflage. When the man and the boat are all white, the seals, who have very poor eyesight, think he is only an iceberg. To help the disguise, the hunter also hangs a little screen of white cloth from the prow of his kayak. But they say this camouflage is only effective only when the water is filled with ice. When there is no floating ice, the seal knows it's a fake. (Comment: as noted above, this section suggests that the wear of non-waterproof clothing was typical)

"Several additional ingenious inventions and improvements have been added to the kayak since the coming of the whites. One is the waterproof sealskin bag that lies on the forward deck to hold the rifle or shotgun. When the natives first got guns, they had no way of keeping them dry except down inside the boat with them, and many men were killed when the triggers caught while they were pulling the gun out. Another recent invention is the false keel. The kayak is quite flat on the bottom, and since it is so long and slender and draws so few inches of water, it is very easily capsized. Now the Eskimo have added a little centerboard or false keel, which is lashed on near the stern and which can be slipped off when going into shallow water, or when they carry the kayak up. That has made it much steadier. (Comment: sounds like what we would call a skeg) Everything has its place on the kayak deck. Just in front of the man, on the forward deck, is a round raised tray, or rack, on which the harpoon line is coiled above the wash of the waves. The harpoon with its throwing board attached is just at the hunter's right hand. The line runs up to the coil on the rack, and the end is brought back to the afterdeck, where the sealing bladder sits. Sometimes a man may have a lance and other weapons, and they are also fixed in their proper places. In the old days, before they had guns, the barbed three-pronged bird dart was in the middle, where the rifle bag is now. The deck of the kayak is crossed by several thongs, under which things can be tucked or thrust. It is wonderful to see a hunter come back, loaded with birds, all piled carelessly on the narrow deck behind the hunter, who paddles along without spilling a single bird.

"Mathiassen was not particularly pleased at my kayaking. He keeps warning me how dangerous it is, especially for a white man who wasn't, so to speak, born in a kayak. A white man at the colony was drowned this spring. South of Holsteinsborg, where there is open water all year, there are many more native women than men, simply because there is such an opportunity for the men to drown themselves in kayaks. (Comment: this observation of a significant difference in the proportion of men and women really does suggest a high fatality rate from kayaking, which is further implied by the comments about rolling below).

"It was interesting to watch them hunting. When a kayaker is about to shoot, he sticks one blade of his kayak paddle under the deck thongs in front of him, so that the paddle lies out horizontally on the water and acts as an outrigger. Then he pulls the gun from its waterproof bag on the front deck, and can shoot in any direction without fear of capsizing. They told us that one night Robert turned turtle and Karl had to rescue him. It is only the experts who know how to turn over in the water and come up again. (Comment: sounds like, in this area or Greenland, ability to roll was the exception not the rule) That is a useful trick to know in case of an accident. The man fits so tightly into the kayak, especially with the half-jacket fitted about the manhole (Comment, i.e., the tuilik), that he could not possibly free himself from the capsized kayak. There must be another man to turn him right side up again, or he will drown. They say one drowns quickly in this cold water. None of the Eskimo know how to swim; the water is too cold for it. (Comment: both the narrative and all the photos indicate lots of ice in the water in July & August, while she was there, with all that is implied about water temperatures).

"As soon as we appeared, Vitus took off his fine black and white checked anorak (the favorite pattern in the north), and dressed in his kayak jacket. He was evidently waiting to show us some stunts. The kayak jacket is made of waterproof de-haired sealskin, and fits tightly about the top of the manhole and is lashed around the face and wrists so that no water can come in. Vitus was a long time about his preparations, stuffing something up his nostrils and ears, and paddling about until he found just the right spot. Then with slow deliberation he laid the paddle close along the side of the kayak, and turned upside down. Equally slowly he righted himself, the paddle at right angles to the craft and held at the extreme end of one of the blade tips. (Comment: sounds like a Pawlata roll—and this from the best kayaker in the area) This performance he cautiously repeated several times. The people were much impressed, and so was I, for the water must have been very cold. Mathiassen, though, said this was poor stuff compared to the stunts of the South Greenlanders, who are all but born in the kayak, and live in it the year round. When the king came to Greenland, for instance, thirty kayakers met the ship at Godthaab, and at a signal all turned over in a twinkling.

[jay_gitomer]

Fascinating! Thanks for posting this. I love that last sentence:

"When the king came to Greenland, for instance, thirty kayakers met the ship at Godthaab, and at a signal all turned over in a twinkling."