How I built an igloo

Gaining an appreciation for Inuit culture

Tosh Gierek

Winters in Winnipeg are brutal; I don’t think anyone would challenge that assertion. Minus-30 degree weather is common this time of year, and enduring the elements can be trying at times. But for some — like myself — embracing winter and heading outdoors to enjoy all that winter has to offer erases the possibility of getting the winter blues.
So it was with eagerness that I enrolled into the Arctic Lifestyles course at the U of M, which includes a compulsory weekend at Delta Marsh to learn how to build an outdoor survival module. In layman’s terms, I was going to discover how to survive the elements by learning how to build an igloo.

photo: Tosh Gierek

Delta Marsh is an idyllic place located on the southern shore of Lake Manitoba and is beautifully accentuated by its surroundings. The facilities are second to none, the kind you would pay top dollar for if it were privately owned. The staff is friendly and the cooks always have a hot meal prepared, ready to warm up your insides. They also prepare vegetarian meals.
The weekend was hosted and taught by Jill Oakes, professor of zoology, and her husband Rick Riewe, professor of native studies. Those familiar with the antics of Jill and Rick should know that the weekend was going to be entertaining, which it was.
Not only do Rick and Jill enthusiastically teach Inuit society and culture, they both possess qualities that allow their enthusiasm to be contagious. Rick’s storytelling abilities coupled with Jill’s passion for Arctic living provided many laughs. At times there were shocking revelations, thanks to one comparison Jill made between the taste of a certain male bodily fluid and the taste of raw caribou eyes.
The events began on Friday evening with a slide show demonstrating the finer points of building an igloo. Because of a severe windstorm — and the subsequent closure of the Trans-Canada Highway West — only a few of us were able to make the journey from Winnipeg to the lodge.

photo: Tosh Gierek

For the small group of us that did manage to arrive safe and sound, an informal presentation was made. We watched, listened and ate cookies in front of the fireplace while Rick and Jill presented the slide show and told stories of their experiences in the north.
As it turns out, the igloo is something unique to the Inuit of Canada’s Eastern Arctic and some portions of Greenland. Theorists suggest that northern aboriginals first developed the Igloo as they migrated further east from Alaska in pursuit of game. It is believed that as they migrated east they began to use snow blocks as a windbreak, and in time they eventually closed it off to create a complete shelter.
At first they were used as a temporary shelter, the Inuit residing in them for only a day or two at a time while they hunted. Then, as they found good stocks of game in an area, they settled and started constructing bigger, more permanent igloos.
It is common practice for several families to congregate together and construct an igloo for their immediate family members, then construct one large igloo to encompass each separate one. These massive structures could easily contain two to five smaller “sleeping” structures with five to seven people in each one. Essentially, they would create what western society might consider analogous to an apartment building, built entirely from snow blocks.
The process of building an igloo is not a simple matter of stacking snow. Understanding geometry and load distribution, and having a keen awareness of snow’s strength and capabilities, are just a few of the skills needed.
It is truly fascinating how easily the Inuit were able to adapt to their surroundings and utilize what was available to them. I challenge anyone — without prior knowledge or training — to build a sound and functional igloo. I am so confident no one can do it that if anyone does I will agree to live in it for a week.
Okay, so you’re wondering how a society without exposure to modern technical engineering skills developed the expertise required to build an igloo?
To understand development of the building process, you must first understand that traditional aboriginal society was based on a holistic approach to every aspect of life. The Inuit developed the igloo in response to their environment. Technical understanding grew out of necessity and was based on experience rather than theory.
At 7:30 on Saturday morning, I awoke terrified by the piercing sounds of a church bell. It turned out that this was to alert us that breakfast was being served. I thought to myself, “what am I doing up for breakfast at 7:30 on a Saturday morning?” (I don’t usually eat breakfast on Saturdays until at least lunchtime).
Following breakfast (and the arrival of the rest of the class), we returned to the lodge where everyone began the arduous task of gearing up for a day full of outdoor activities in –25-degree weather.

I find it interesting and refreshing how quickly vanity disappears when one’s quest for warmth dominates one’s intentions. Quite honestly, I didn’t recognize half the people from my class, especially the instructors Jill and Rick. (Good lord, you two, if it were hunting season you both would have been shot!)
Before we began constructing our igloos, we broke into groups of five containing one leader whose job it was to ensure we remembered what we were taught. In my group were Whelan, Deirdre, Stephanie, and our experienced leader Ginger.
The task of building an igloo begins with selecting the right kind of snow. Thanks to a carefully positioned snow fence, and a windstorm the night before, we had plenty of good igloo-building snow for everyone.

Step 1: Cut at least 50 blocks and stack them on end so they freeze.

This sounds easy, doesn’t it? Well, it’s not! I would guess that our group cut 150 blocks but two out of every three were dropped, kicked, stepped on, too small, too big, too thin, or — I can’t prove this but I’m sure it happened — stolen by another group.
Risk of breakage is just one difficulty to overcome. If you’re not physically fit that becomes another. So for those who have an obsession for tar and nicotine, allow plenty of time for yourself to complete step 1.

Step 2: Determine the size of your igloo.

Too small an igloo means someone will freeze to death because there’s not enough room for him or her. Too big an igloo means everyone will freeze to death because it will take forever to build. An igloo three to four metres in diameter is a perfect fit for five adults.

Step 3: Start stacking those blocks.

All the technical information and tips we received directly applied to step 3. A process known as “thumping” the block ensures stability and is very similar to bricklaying. Just like the brick layer, once you have positioned your snow block in the proper position a final “thump” on the top of the block keeps it in place. Poor Deirdre, for the life of her she couldn’t master this technique.
Another important component of step 3 is the location and construction of the door. Placing the door in the wrong spot may mean a constant draft or even getting snowed in.
Step 4: Fill in the cracks.

At this point your igloo looks like an igloo. If everyone worked together as a team, as ours did, then the shape of your igloo is perfectly symmetrical, as ours was. But there is still work to be done filling in the cracks.
The cracks can be filled in during step 3 as more and more rows are constructed. There is only one safe way to fill in the cracks, and that is to gently place powdered snow in them with your hand.
Stephanie learned this the hard way when she felt that the blocks of our igloo had frozen enough to absorb a slap shot-styled toss of snow from a shovel. After “Slap shot Stephanie” begged forgiveness, we repaired the three damaged blocks that were caused by Stephanie’s erroneous decision and returned to the more gentle approach of filling in the cracks with our hands.
By the end of the day there were half a dozen igloos standing on the ice in front of the lodge, and one igloo that just didn’t materialize because of bad snow. Total time needed to build an igloo was seven to eight hours.
Another interesting statistic is that of the 30 or so people who took part, there were only four of us — yeah, I was one of them — who actually spent the night in our igloos. It appears that not everyone was committed to the whole experience.
What came together that day on the ice was more than blocks of snow; it was the ability and determination of everyone to work together and breathe life into a tradition that for the most part is misunderstood. Sure, we learned how to build an igloo, but I think everyone also came away from that weekend understanding that the Inuit didn’t just survive in the north; rather, they thrived.