Getting anywhere from here requires patience, flexibility, and a complete willingness to be bumped.
Monday: airport. Delayed, then cancelled. Weather.
Tuesday: airport again. Twenty-minute delay, then airborne — Iqaluit bound. Made it. Rushed to confirm my connection. Bumped to the next day. Rushed to the other airline, transferred my reservation, rechecked my bags, was told my laptop bag was too heavy, redistributed everything at the counter while strangers politely looked away.
Sat down. Ran into a friend I’d only ever spoken to by phone and Facebook, who moved north two weeks after me and had been weather-delayed for three days. We had fifteen minutes before her flight boarded. That’s how you finally meet people up here.
My flight: delayed, full, luggage not making the trip. I ran back to the luggage area, switched everything into a hiking pack, and boarded a nine-seat Beechcraft in a blizzard warning.
Here’s what I know about myself by this point: none of this rattled me. I was problem-solving the whole time — running the next option before the current one failed, adapting in real time. I function well in that mode. Always have. When everything is uncertain and moving, my brain engages in a way it doesn’t always in calmer circumstances.
The landing in Cape Dorset was what I’d call a character-building experience. We made it. That’s the point, up here. You adapt, you show up whenever they’ll let you, and eventually you get where you’re going.