Strength, Sled Dogs, and Survival
Amber Aglukark grips the paddle of a handcrafted Greenlandic-style kayak, slicing through the icy waters of Nunavut's Qikiqtaaluk region. The bay is quiet, save for the crunch of ice drifting with the tide. Iqaluit, where she lives, has long disappeared from sight, but here, Amber feels right at home—a balance of exhilaration and peace. "I couldn't be more grateful for the opportunity," she says.
Amber's connection to the North runs deep. Although she didn't fully explore her Inuit heritage until adulthood, the seeds of resilience were planted early. Her grandmother's escape from a residential school builds the foundation of Amber's strength.
Amber paddling serene waters in the Women's Destiny Foam Vest & redesigned Helix drysuit
"My grandmother escaped at a young age," says Amber.
This fortitude, passed through generations, fuels her mission to protect and revitalize Inuit culture—most tangibly through her work with sled dogs.
"I am very thankful for the opportunity to grow up in such a strong household without even knowing what had happened," she says. "So, having learned the history of our people, I had a lot more appreciation for how my mom raised me."
Amber's great-grandfather was Peter Freuchen, who travelled with Knud Rasmussen on the Thule expeditions.
Amber preparing her dog team in the Torrens Hooded Thermal Jacket
During the 1950s and 1960s, the Canadian government slaughtered thousands of Inuit sled dogs. Since the 1970s, organizations like the Eskimo Dog Research Foundation have worked to restore the breed.
Amber is a city councillor in Iqaluit, a policy analyst, and president of the Qulliit Nunavut Status of Women Council, as well as the Iqaluit dog team society.
For Amber, dog sledding is more than a tradition—it's a lifeline.
Through her leadership, she advocates for sled dogs and helps amplify the voices of women in her community.
She also works to revive the Inuktut language and contributes to policymaking in Iqaluit.
Each sled trip begins with harnessing the dogs in a specific order, anchoring the qamutiik to prevent early movement.
"As soon as I see that I have only two more dogs to harness, my heart starts to race," she says.
Once ready, the team surges forward—reaching speeds of 50–60 km/h before settling into rhythm.
Each run is more than a ride—it's a testament to her heritage and resilience.
It's not just survival—it's thriving.
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Author: Danielle Baker