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Support Whisper Polar Expedition Spitsbergen 2009.

                Minis Gitigaan - 3,500 Indian souls

     Not having found the treasure of the Beaver King, empty handed we decide at least to visit some local Indians. We take course towards, surrounded by rocky reefs, Garden Island. In fact, due to British, and later American colonization, the island has been now uninhabited for many years. In XIX century, however, Indians thrived in this area.

    Many tribes, including Ottawa and Ojibwa Indians, considered Garden Island magic, or even holy land. What remained is only a cemetery, where natives still burry their dead.

    Whereas on High Island you could find patches of sandy beach, here the shores are completely covered with rocks. A bottom like this is probably the worst for anchoring. Luckily, the weather forecast is good, so we drop our two gigantic anchors and go off to sleep undisturbed.  

    Since the island is abandoned, there is no one to ask for directions. Our sense of adventure leads us along a narrow path into the dark woods. After 2 hours of unfair battle against mosquitoes, we come across a signpost displaying a map of the island. Surprise, surprise! We are far away from the cemetery which is on the opposite side of the island (in case anyone would like to follow our footsteps, we enclose the map here). It turns out though, even with a map one can be lost for hours. There comes our savior: a lonely tramp woman shares the secret. It turns out though, even with the help of a tramp woman one can be lost for hours...

    There it is at last. A sign on a tree asks for respect. Puzzled, we notice that spirit houses are made of wood and there is only around a dozen of them apparently built at different time (presumably there are 3,500 Indians buried in this place). Judging by the good condition of some of the houses, we suspect that burials still take place in here. One of them looks especially new, while a bunch of polaroid photos hanging from a branch show different stages of its construction.

    Mysteriously, the mosquitoes disappear, and we find ourselves in this quiet mood evoked by the calmness and stillness of the holy ground. We read names written on the graves: Anungoday - Bright Star of the Universal Space. All of a sudden, we happen to be in the middle of the green, enchanted forest surrounded by strange magic powers from outer space.

Anungoday - Bright Star of the Universal Space

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