The Stranger on the Ice

by Bernadette Calonego

  I wanted to retrieve Mary-Ann Strong’s death from obscurity, to bring it into the light, and I hope I did that. But there was more: I wanted to shed light on her life, too, which was all too brief, sadly. Thanks to her travel diary, I was able to find my way to a woman I never knew. She was a courageous, exciting person, and it’s a shame she wasn’t granted the time to fully realize her potential.

  And your book is courageous as well, Ms. Blaine. You don’t shrink from exploring painful and controversial facts in your family’s history. For example, the realization that your stepmother, Bella Wakefield, had two children you knew absolutely nothing about.

  My brothers and I were very moved by Sedna Mahrer’s fate and tragic end—she was Bella’s daughter, as you know. Sedna and her brother, Glenn, were raised believing that their biological mother didn’t want to have anything to do with them. That must have been terrible. We’re in regular communication with Glenn Bliss now. In the meantime, he’s come to see his mother differently; he now knows the whole truth behind her absence in his life. But it’s too bad my book comes out too late for Sedna, and for Bella, who’s got Alzheimer’s.

  You say in your book that Mary-Ann Strong’s film footage is lost. What do you think happened to it?

  If I only knew! Maybe it was squirreled away in a police archive, and now nobody knows anything about it. Or else it was destroyed. It’s a great mystery.

  You used to be in journalism, and since then you’ve led numerous tours to the Arctic and other places. Will you still be writing books in the future?

  We’ll see. I do still have my tour company, but my business partner, Faye Burton, who’s also in the book, is mainly in charge of running it now. I travel with Clem Hardeven, who currently works for Parks Canada. We get to many of Canada’s national parks.

  For years, you strongly resisted immersing yourself in your parents’ story, and yet you regularly returned to the Arctic, where the disaster took place. Was that a coincidence?

  It certainly wouldn’t have been a coincidence according to Inuit mythology. But there’s a huge interest in Arctic tourism today. So it was only a matter of time before I got up there. But you’re right: it pretty much took the force of circumstances to get me involved with my parents’ history. I’m pleased today that it happened.

  Will you go to that part of the Arctic again?

  This will surprise you: Clem Hardeven and I are planning a Dempster Memorial Trek. We want to bring my parents’ project to a fitting conclusion. We’re already preparing for it. We’re bringing our dog, Meteor, and a second one that we’ve named Sedna. Two Gwich’in guides are coming with us since nobody knows the territory—their territory, I mean—as well as they do.

  The revelation of your family secrets has been fascinating for your readers. Are they all now out in the open?

  Let’s just say that I’ve included everything that my readers need to know in order to understand my parents’ tragedy and how it impacted anyone connected with them. The few remaining facts are merely of family interest. I would never make them public. I think there are limits, and that’s where you have to stop.

  Many thanks for this interview, Ms. Blaine.

  EPILOGUE

  February 14, 1985

  Cold. Cold. Cold.

  Fifty-four below.

  Kept the little woodstove in the tent going all night.

  The caribou hides are warmer than our sleeping bags. We mustn’t tell our sponsors that.

  Little icicles hang down from Peter’s mustache.

  How can the sun be shining and it’s still so cold? We can’t wear sunglasses because they’ll freeze to our faces in seconds.

  Wish we were alone in the tent, without Siqiniq. We can deliver him back to his father in a few days. Peter wants to go on afterward, just the two of us. Without a local guide.

  Crazy.

  Talked last night because the cold kept us from sleeping.

  We talked about what might have happened to us if we had never met. One of the rare relaxed conversations we have had. Peter is irritated and frustrated most of the time.

  I told him about Kenneth, who used to chase me and today makes millions from a soft drink factory. “You would have been a trophy wife,” Peter said.

  Isn’t that what I am now? Everybody admires Peter Hurdy-Blaine, but nobody knows Mary-Ann Strong. Not yet.

  Peter talks about a woman named Bella he knew in the US. Very pretty, he says, but very domesticated. “She’s not adventurous, like you.”

  Well, this Bella didn’t give up college the way I did to marry Peter. I haven’t got a profession, and I have three kids I miss badly. Left them with his parents so he can make his dreams come true.

  But that will soon change.

  February 15, 1985

  We had a lost day. Furious winds.

  It’s loud in the tent. Tried to listen to music on my Walkman, but the batteries are dead. Too cold. Peter laughed and laughed at me.

  He never misses a chance to mock me when I make a mistake.

  Had trouble finding wood for the stove.

  Siqiniq and I put up the tent with Peter. He swore and complained.

  What did he expect? Sunshine every day? We could have bad weather for two weeks. Easily possible.

  Peter calls me paranoid. I always prepare for the worst-case scenario. It’s only realistic. Weather. Dangers.

  Peter has one bad moment after another. He’s in pain. I don’t see how many pills he takes. Sometimes he grimaces with pain. Osteoarthritis. Rheumatism.

  He doesn’t talk to me about his health problems. A hockey player is old at 45. But he refuses to believe it.

  Maybe old injuries are showing up now.

  February 16, 1985

  Gorgeous night. A sea of stars in the firmament.

  Magical.

  We made good progress today. Got to the winter camp of Siqiniq’s father. Nobody there. Probably out setting traps.

  Siqiniq says the caribou are not far off.

  How does he know?

  We moved on, Siqiniq with us. I’m more used to having him around. Still, I’d prefer an adult guide to a fourteen-year-old. A teenager with a hunting rifle.

  Peter thinks nothing of it. But it makes me nervous.

  Peter does not take my concerns seriously.

  Have my suspicions why Peter doesn’t want an adult guide. He’s not used to sharing the spotlight.

  He tolerates me shooting films just because Peter Hurdy-Blaine is in every shot. We shall see if he’s in the credits. After all, I’m doing all the work.

  February 17, 1985

  Woke up early. Filled with anticipation.

  The caribou can’t be far away.

  I asked Peter again last night if he’d explained to Siqiniq that he has to keep absolutely still during my shoot.

  Peter had forgotten again. Intentionally? He doesn’t want me to tell Siqiniq directly that he shouldn’t interfere with the filming. Peter says I don’t understand their culture and that you have to approach Siqiniq with tact and sensitivity and caution. As if I didn’t know how to do that! But I don’t want tensions to flare up between us. So I keep my mouth shut and cut Peter some slack. He promised to make up for it. Why didn’t he do it days ago? I have the feeling he wants to sabotage my film work.

  Those mood swings. Not a good sign. The exertion is simply too much for him. He’s not physically able to get through this trek. He’ll never admit it. So I will be the one to do the wilting.

  When the caribou are in the can, I’ll pretend I’m sick. He can save face, but I’ll have my film regardless.

  I know how to do it. I’ll be very convincing. He won’t have any choice but to go back to Inuvik as fast as possible.

  Perhaps this is Peter’s last trip to the Arctic. But he doesn’t know that yet.

  Siqiniq is back from scouting. I asked Peter if he told the boy not to move while the camera’s rolling. Peter said yes. Didn’t sound convincing. But what can I do?

&n
bsp; Today’s my big day. Here we go!

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Some years ago, I traveled the same route as my heroine, Valerie Blaine—an unforgettable journey I highly recommend. The communities along the road, especially Dawson City, Inuvik, and Tuktoyaktuk, inspired this novel. While some of the settings I describe do exist, none of my imaginary protagonists live in them.

  Throughout my trip, I encountered many interesting, helpful, independent, and impressive people. Inuvik is a real multicultural community with all sorts of inhabitants; it’s admirable how they make this remote Arctic town a diverse place to live, creating a unique meeting space. I can only tip my hat out of respect.

  I hope that some of my readers will succumb to the temptation to travel to the Arctic Ocean and come away as fascinated as I was. To be sure, they won’t meet anyone like Clem Hardeven, Helvin West, or Marjorie Tama. It was a great pleasure to invent these fictional characters. My description of places like Inuvik and Tuktoyaktuk hew close to the originals; but just as much they sprang from my imagination, as people who know those towns can easily verify.

  I would first like to thank the people who helped me revive, correct, and amend my memories and knowledge of Inuvik and Tuktoyaktuk. They showed much patience, although it couldn’t have been easy for them to respond to all my questions.

  Beverly Amos from the Inuvialuit Cultural Resource Centre in Inuvik gave me indefatigable assistance with indigenous names, local dialects, and customs, from animals’ ranges to deciphering expressions like Alappaa-Brrr (“I am cold,” in Siglitun). She also taught me how to translate “Thank you” into Inuvialuktun, which comes in handy right now: Quyanainni, Beverly.

  It is important to state up front: I myself am accountable for any errors that may have crept in despite my intensive research. I have allowed myself some freedom in many aspects, particularly in the portrayal of shamans and Inuit myths. The myths mentioned in the novel are not specific to the Inuvik region or the Western Arctic. I hope I’ll be forgiven for these creative deviations.

  Amie Hay, who worked for three years as a speech therapist in Inuvik, filled me in on many interesting experiences from her time there. Dr. Grant Zazula, a Canadian paleontologist at the Ministry for Tourism and Culture in Whitehorse, gave me some insight into the Beringia era during the last Ice Age, when people and animals from Asia migrated to North America over a glacier-free land bridge to the present-day Yukon Territory. Beth and Peter Lamb refreshed their memories to tell me about their fascinating life during the couple of years they and their two children were in Inuvik. Margot Grant’s oral reports of her two trips to Inuvik and Tuktoyaktuk as a journalist provided valuable enrichment that supplemented my own travel experiences.

  The enthusiasm of my test readers relieved me of hidden fears by contributing highly valued insights and suggestions toward the completion of the novel. Big hugs to Peter Stenberg, Erika Imhof, Gisela Dalvit, Oswald Abersbach, Margot Grant, and Susanne Keller. As we say in Canada, you rock!

  I must also thank the Swiss photographer Rudolf Grütter, who provided me with fantastic pictures of the Ice Road. I was accompanied in the Arctic by my tour guide, Benno Jaeger, a Swiss-Canadian, and I am grateful to him for one of the best adventures of my life. The sharp eyes, the admirable feeling for language, and the infallible logic of my editor, Gisa Marehn, made this book what it is today. A fine editor like her is heaven-sent.

  Die Fremde auf dem Eis would not exist in its present form without Franz Edlmayr, who acquired and produced it for Amazon Publishing in Munich. He saw my fifth book through with the right measure of goading and patience to bring the baby safe and sound into the world. Thanks to the efforts of the magnificent Amazon team, my crime novels have been a success.

  The award-winning translator, Gerald Chapple, has repeated the miracle of my story’s rebirth in English, using powerful and seductive language that never fails to impress me immensely. It is always such an honor and blessing to have Gerald Chapple on board.

  My editor, Lauren Edwards, at AmazonCrossing has impressed me over and over again with her passion, dedication, and efficiency. She showed such a good intuition for what an author needs. My warm thanks go to her, and to the developmental editor, Susan Hulett; the copyeditor, Lindsey Alexander; and the proofreader, Monique Vescia; who suggested so many excellent changes to this book.

  To all the people who have supported and inspired me, I express my heartfelt gratitude.

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  Regarding the mysterious explosion in the Canadian Arctic: About nine years ago I read a brief article in a major Canadian newspaper that captivated me at once. It referred to an explosion in the Arctic at the end of July 2008 that several Inuit hunters claimed to have observed at the tip of Baffin Island. The article said the Inuit reported a black cloud above the explosion and found a number of dead whales on the shore. It went on to say that an indigenous army volunteer of the Canadian Rangers submitted a similar report.

  The Canadian military stated they would be sending a long-range airplane, a CP-140 Aurora, to the area to look for evidence.

  I waited eagerly to read more about this extraordinary incident in the Canadian media. I waited and waited. But there was no follow-up.

  As a journalist, I decided to pursue the matter. I called many agencies, from the Ministry of Defense to the RCMP to officers in Yellowknife to the Ministry of Fisheries—only to be passed on to other agencies that promised to return my calls but never did. I finally gave up my research and worked the mysterious explosion into the present novel.

  I read in later news agency articles that a helicopter was sent instead of an Aurora, from a Canadian Coast Guard ship one week later, but no traces of an explosion or any dead whales were found.

  An anonymous government source was quoted in the Calgary Herald on August 9, 2008, as saying that any indications of an explosion over a week old would have long disappeared and that polar bears could have eaten the whale carcasses.

  So what did happen in the Arctic that summer? Was it an unidentified submarine? A foreign military power? Illegal whale hunters with explosives? There are no limits to the imagination on this point. The explosion remains unexplained to this day—at least officially. This is why I have not given a final explanation for it in this book.

  One of my favorite figures in this story is Pihuk Bart, the shaman. Shamans have always played an important role in the lives and history of the peoples living in Arctic regions. I was told by an Inuvialuk that there were (and are) good shamans but also bad shamans. Pihuk isn’t a bad shaman, although he’s a bit quirky. But he must have liked Valerie Blaine, who respected him. And he was correct in his prediction for her.

  An Inuit from Nunavik in Northern Quebec told me an old myth about shamans: A long, long time ago, there were two shamans fighting each other. As the Inuit didn’t like people fighting, they sent the shamans to the moon. There they kept on fighting, so mightily that they dug in their feet. That is how craters appeared on the moon.

  I have always been fascinated by another partly factual story of a shaman named Qitdlarssuaq on Canada’s Baffin Island. In the nineteenth century, this shaman committed murder and fled with a group of about fifty Inuit in order to escape revenge. The group traveled all the way across the Arctic to northwestern Greenland, which took years. They arrived in Greenland around 1863, and there they stayed and had quite a decent life. When the shaman grew old, he wanted to return to Baffin Island. Around 1873, he took a group of twenty or so people with him. The shaman died around 1875 on the journey. Only five of the group survived the arduous and dangerous trip; the others starved to death. The survivors returned to Greenland two years later and stayed. This stunning odyssey is partly oral history, partly documented, and can be read in the Canadian Encyclopedia: http://www.thecanadianencyclopedia.ca/en/article/qitdlarssuaq/.

  I invented the story of the Inuvialuit hamlet of Inuliktuuq, whose inhabitants followed their bad shaman to their deaths because they were more afraid
of not following him than of the dangers that lurked beyond their territory. Nothing like this ever really existed. The reality is very different: The Inuvialuit have taken their fate into their own hands: in 1984, they signed a comprehensive land claim agreement with the Canadian government that makes them “equal and meaningful participants in the northern and national economy and society” and that helps to preserve the “Inuvialuit cultural identity and values within a changing northern society” (from the Inuvialuit Regional Corporation website: http://www.irc.inuvialuit.com/inuvialuit-final-agreement).

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Photo © 2015 Kim Stallknecht

  Bernadette Calonego was born in Switzerland and grew up on the shores of Lake Lucerne. She was just eleven years old when she published her first story in a Swiss newspaper. She went on to earn a teaching degree from the University of Fribourg, which she put to good use in England and Switzerland before switching gears to become a journalist. As a foreign correspondent, she published stories in Vogue, GEO, and SZ Magazin. After several years working with the Reuters news agency and a series of German-language newspapers, she moved to Canada and began writing fiction. The Stranger on the Ice is her fourth novel to be translated into English, following Stormy Cove, Under Dark Waters, and The Zurich Conspiracy. She lives near Vancouver, British Columbia.

  ABOUT THE TRANSLATOR

  Photo © 2018 Nina Chapple

  Gerald Chapple is an award-winning translator of German literature. He received his doctorate at Harvard and went on to teach German and comparative literature at McMaster University in Hamilton, Ontario. He has been translating contemporary German-language fiction, poetry, and nonfiction for over forty years. His recent renditions into English include Anita Albus’s wonderfully idiosyncratic book, On Rare Birds, and one hundred poems by Günter Kunert. Of his six novels translated for AmazonCrossing, three were by the Swiss-Canadian author and journalist Bernadette Calonego: The Zurich Conspiracy; Under Dark Waters, set in British Columbia and the Canadian Arctic; and Stormy Cove, another novel of suspense placed this time in northern Newfoundland. He lives in Dundas, Ontario, with his wife, Nina, an architectural historian. When not translating, he can usually be found studying birds, butterflies, and dragonflies; reading; listening to classical music; or enjoying life with his children and grandchildren in New York.