Days began and ended at the fishnets. The haul of iqalupik, arctic char, was so plentiful that soon each tent was flanked by a small stand of stiff pink bodies, stuck tails first into deep drifts of snow. When we got hungry, we simply slipped an arm out the door and snagged a fish. Sometimes we cut it up and made soup. More often we ate it raw, slicing the char into our mouths. Frozen sushi, Marvin called it, fresh and cold, almost tasteless, with a note of steel from the knife blade.
每一天都以撒網開始和作結。打上來的魚很多，很快每個帳篷都擺上了一排堅硬的粉色的軀體，尾巴埋進雪里。餓的時候我們只要把手伸出帳篷抓條魚進來就行。有時候我們會把魚切塊燉湯。更多時候就是生吃，把紅點鮭切成一片片的放進嘴里，馬爾文管這個叫做凍壽司，很新鮮又冰涼，幾乎無味，只有刀刃上一點鋼鐵的味道。
Beyond the nets, our hours vanished into a well of small tasks. In the day's few hours of weak sunlight, there were stoves to tend, ice to melt for drinking water, tents to relocate when the ice below them turned to slush. Snowmobiles regularly broke down in the unforgiving cold. At one point, a mother polar bear appeared near camp with two cubs, which made the act of heading off alone to relieve oneself -- already dismal enough in the puckering cold -- an even uglier prospect.
除了撒網，我們的時間都花在很多小事上。在白天幾小時的微弱光線里，我們要照看好灶，化冰做飲用水，冰開始化的時候還要給帳篷換位置。在這種嚴寒的天氣里，雪地車經常壞。有一次，一只北極熊母親帶了兩只幼崽出現在帳篷附近，這讓獨自一人去大小解--在這種天氣已經夠可怕了--都變得危險。
During the mission I shared a tent with Marvin Atqittuq and his father, Jacob, who at 74 was one of Gjoa Haven's most celebrated hunters. Jacob Atqittuq had been born in an igloo and spoke only enough English to make occasional jokes. Over his lifetime he'd survived brutal winters and hungry bears, searing frostbite, boat accidents, even a season of famine that had killed many Inuit. Each morning he woke before us, and at the foot of the broad mattress we all shared, he cooked bannock, a sweet, doughy bread, and softly sang old church hymns in Inuktitut.
在這次任務中，我跟馬爾文·阿提庫和他的父親雅各布共用一個帳篷，雅各布74歲時曾是約阿港最出名的獵手。雅各布·阿提庫出生在一座愛斯基摩人的冰屋，他的英語水平只夠他偶爾開開玩笑用。在他的一生中，他經歷過嚴寒的冬天，饑餓的熊，刺骨的霜凍，船只事故，甚至是持續一整季的死了很多因紐特人的饑荒。每天早上他都醒的比我們早，他就在我們共用的寬大的床墊旁邊做薄麥餅，那是一種甜甜的像面團一樣的面包，然后溫和的唱著因紐特人教堂里古老的頌歌。
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