Recherche dans la collection - By the time we finished packing for our August weekend camping trip, it was 10:30 p.m., dusk in Igloolik. In the cold night, a wall of fog engulfs us. My friend Andy, Paulosie Attagutalukutuk's oldest son, stops his 16-foot aluminum boat, looks around, motions a direction with his hand and then proceeds slowly through the ice-strewn waters. We are on our way across Foxe Basin to an old hunting camp called Oopingiviajuk on Baffin Island. Andy's wife Rebecca, who works as a teacher's aide at the school in Igloolik, rides beside him along with two of their children - Alice, 12, and Thomas, four - who sleep soundly at their feet swaddled in a sleeping bag laid on caribou skins on the bottom of the boat. Turton Bay, Igloolik, 1998.