@newyorkermag

During springtime in the far, far north—when the sun breaches the horizon, after months of total darkness—indigenous Greenlandic hunters head out to frozen inlets and get lost in ice and time. For many of the past 35 years, @ragnaraxelsson, an Icelandic photographer, has joined these expeditions, clutching his Leica against the Arctic winds. “In the vastness of Greenland there are places to be found where one gets the distinct impression of being alone in the world, places few people have ever reached,” Axelsson says. “The stillness is overwhelming. The emptiness seems boundless.” In the least accessible areas, sled dogs are irreplaceable. “Unlike a snowmobile, a good trained dog can lead you home in a storm,” Axelsson said. “Engines fail. But the dogs never fail.” Loyal, strong, selfless, uncomplaining—step after frozen step, sled dogs have hauled people to the limits of the earth, at both poles. “There would be no Inuit without the Greenlandic dog,” an elderly indigenous woman told Axelsson. “It has kept us alive for 4,000 years.” The dogs are, in Axelsson’s estimation, “the greatest heroes the North has ever known.” Tap the link in our bio to see more.

December 31, 2021