In Gjoa Haven, a secluded hamlet nestled high in Canada’s vast Arctic archipelago, the concept of gardening was once foreign to residents like Betty Kogvik. This windswept island experiences prolonged periods of complete darkness during its harsh winters, and even in short summers, local vegetation stays low, clinging to the tundra. The nearest trees are hundreds of miles away on the mainland, appearing as only the scrawniest spruces.
Yet, today, Ms. Kogvik is a proud cultivator of strawberries, carrots, broccoli, bell peppers, microgreens, tomatoes, and numerous other fresh fruits and vegetables, all flourishing year-round.
“I knew absolutely nothing about plants before this,” shares Ms. Kogvik, an Inuit woman, much like the majority of Canada’s Arctic population. “Now, I truly have a green thumb.”
Ms. Kogvik works within an advanced greenhouse facility that, for the first time in the region’s living memory, produces fresh, local food. Housed inside insulated shipping containers, devoid of any natural view, the plants thrive under artificial lighting in a controlled environment of soil and water, sustained by consistent heating throughout the year.
Researchers are optimistic that this innovative greenhouse will offer a vital alternative to the costly perishable goods currently flown in at great expense from southern Canadian cities. More importantly, it promises a healthier diet for the Inuit, the Indigenous people who have called Canada’s Arctic home for centuries.
Historically, the nomadic Inuit sustained themselves on a diet rich in raw meat and fish, which provided essential nutrients missing due to the absence of fruits, vegetables, and sunlight. This traditional diet helped them survive in extreme conditions, a stark contrast to European explorers like those from the ill-fated Franklin expedition near Gjoa Haven, who succumbed to vitamin deficiencies in their quest for the fabled Northwest Passage.
Today, many Inuit in Gjoa Haven and other remote Arctic communities grapple with a challenging blend of traditional and Western diets. Following their forced relocation into hamlets by the Canadian government in the 1960s, many Inuit now lead sedentary lives, relying heavily on local supermarkets. This shift has led to rising rates of obesity and the highest levels of food insecurity in Canada. For the roughly 1,500 residents of Gjoa Haven, the prohibitive cost and often poor quality of fresh produce at the two local supermarkets had long been a significant concern.
Motivated by these challenges, several years ago, the elders of Gjoa Haven approached the Arctic Research Foundation, a private Canadian organization. Having previously assisted the foundation in locating one of the sunken Franklin ships in 2016, the community sought a new collaborative venture: a greenhouse.
In 2019, a site chosen by the elders—a hill on the village outskirts—became home to several shipping containers. These containers were ingeniously retrofitted into a greenhouse, powered by wind turbines, solar panels, and a backup diesel generator. The facility was aptly named “Naurvik,” meaning “the growing place” in the Inuit language.
For many Inuit, including Ms. Kogvik, who had no prior experience with cultivation, working at Naurvik was initially daunting. Ms. Kogvik vividly recalls her panic when the foundation’s researchers departed Gjoa Haven after establishing the facility in 2019.
“I genuinely told them, ‘Within days, you’re going to hear me screaming and shouting because every single plant will be dead,’” she recounted. “But just two weeks later, I was already harvesting them.”
Now, Ms. Kogvik acts as a trainer for new employees, such as 35-year-old Kyle Aglukkaq, who was working on a recent Saturday afternoon. Mr. Aglukkaq remembered being fascinated by a “Magic School Bus” episode about plants as a child. However, growing up without any plants nearby, he mistakenly believed they were all extremely delicate.
“Turns out, you don’t actually have to be super careful with them,” he observed.
“You can really rough them up!” Ms. Kogvik added, with a laugh.
Both workers diligently tended to a diverse assortment of vegetables and fruits, growing in both soil and water-based systems, neatly arranged on shelves within the two shipping containers.
“This strawberry is truly remarkable,” Ms. Kogvik said, holding up a bright red, perfectly ripe fruit. “They’re noticeably sweeter and far more flavorful than the old, store-bought ones.”
Later that afternoon, Ms. Kogvik carefully packed various greens into sandwich bags, destined for the hamlet’s community center. The greenhouse’s fresh bounty is also regularly distributed to the elders and the dedicated members of the local search and rescue team.
Currently, Naurvik operates as both a research hub and a modest production facility, partially funded by the Canadian Space Agency. Since its inception in 2019, the greenhouse has cost approximately 5 million Canadian dollars (about $3.6 million USD) to construct and run, according to Tom Henheffer, CEO of the Arctic Research Foundation.
However, Mr. Henheffer anticipates that the greenhouse will transition to full-scale production over the next three years. The foundation believes that Naurvik, combined with a potential facility for processing and exporting other local products like Arctic char, can achieve economic self-sufficiency in Gjoa Haven and across other Inuit communities.
The foundation also aims to qualify for a federal program that currently subsidizes retailers for shipping healthy perishable goods from southern Canada to northern communities.
“Instead of funneling money to distant grocers, those funds could directly benefit the community members who are growing this food right here,” Mr. Henheffer explained.
At the Co-op, one of Gjoa Haven’s two supermarkets, 28-year-old Hailey Okpik was observed shopping with her 6-month-old daughter strapped to her back. She filled roughly six shopping bags with a week’s worth of groceries for her family of six, including milk, fruits, vegetables, and prepared meals. The total bill came to an astonishing 914 Canadian dollars, or $660 USD.
“The prices are identical at both supermarkets,” Ms. Okpik commented, though she expressed a preference for the Co-op, as it is proudly owned by the community.
While most non-perishable goods arrive in Gjoa Haven via an annual sealift, fresh produce and other delicate perishables must be flown in weekly from northern Manitoba.
During the unforgiving winter, with temperatures plunging to minus 40 Fahrenheit, fresh produce can spoil within minutes during the short journey from the airport to the supermarket. Moussa Ndiaye, the Co-op’s manager for the past three years and a Senegalese immigrant, noted, “In winter, bananas freeze almost instantly, and sometimes watermelons arrive completely frozen. We have no choice but to discard them immediately.”
Duane Wilson, a vice president at the Winnipeg-based Arctic Co-ops (an umbrella group for local co-ops in the Arctic), explained that transportation costs and the limited scale of retailing in these northern communities inevitably drive up prices at the checkout. Critics, however, contend that the supermarkets are simply overcharging.
Regardless of the underlying causes of these exorbitant prices, the stark reality is that nearly 60 percent of residents in Nunavut—the vast Canadian territory encompassing small northern communities like Gjoa Haven—lack the financial means to purchase sufficient food in terms of both quantity and quality. Nunavut faces Canada’s highest rate of food insecurity, more than double the average seen in the ten provinces, according to Canadian government statistics.
Gjoa Haven, like many other Indigenous communities, transitioned from a traditional nomadic way of life only a few generations ago.
Tony Akoak, 67, a representative for the hamlet in Nunavut’s legislature, shared how he grew up on animals and fish harvested by his father. Yet, he never acquired hunting or fishing skills himself—abilities that have increasingly dwindled among younger Inuit generations.
“They’re just going to the store and buying junk food,” Mr. Akoak lamented.
Despite these challenges, Mr. Akoak remains hopeful. He is optimistic that, with continued support from the Canadian government, the greenhouse can expand significantly, ultimately providing fresh produce to a large portion of the hamlet’s residents. Reflecting on how much life in Gjoa Haven has transformed within his own lifetime, Mr. Akoak expressed his astonishment that fruits and vegetables are now grown year-round.
“So anything can grow here,” he concluded, “as long as you care for it properly.”