Miracles and Misadventures (Encounters with Life Book 2)

Miracles, Misadventures and Remarkable Encounters

Discover a spellbinding collection of fiction, non-fiction and creative non-fiction stories exploring the many unexpected turns of life. Miracles and Misadventures, the second book in James Osborne’s Encounters In Life series, moves from dangerous exploits and lighthearted encounters to personal achievements, meaningful lessons and moments of growth. Inspired by memorable interactions and experiences gathered over the years, these wide-ranging stories are designed to entertain, surprise and lift the spirits.

Explore Miracles and Misadventures and experience a collection of unforgettable encounters drawn from life in all its variety.

Excerpt from the book

“Would you like to visit a real igloo?” Duncan asked.

“Yes!” I replied eagerly.

With that reply I was on my way to becoming caught in an Arctic blizzard that almost turned deadly.

Another journalist and I were having coffee at a restaurant in Inuvik, Northwest Territories, a village in Canada’s high Arctic, when gregarious NWT politician Duncan Pryde joined us.

He invited Eric and me to visit an Inuit friend, a hunter and his family, who lived in an igloo on the Arctic coast. Duncan said the family was part of a nomadic community that travelled the coast in search of wildlife, the source of their food, clothing, and meager incomes. Duncan assured us the community was nearby.

“I’ve always wanted to see an igloo up close,” Eric said.

“Well, you’ll see a whole community of them,” Duncan said, chuckling. “It’s an hour or so east of here by snowmobile.”

For Eric and me making a quick trip to see a genuine igloo, and to interview the family, presented a temptation that was journalistically irresistible.

We had arrived in Inuvik earlier in the day. Eric and I were among a group of journalists who’d been flown to Inuvik from Yellowknife, NWT, to the small community perched in the middle of the massive Mackenzie River Delta. Some egocentric politician wanted a dramatic setting for an announcement.

With the event over, Eric and I had adjourned to the town’s only genuine restaurant. Others chose various bars. The plane flying us back to Yellowknife was due to leave the next morning. With our news stories filed, we were killing time. That’s when Duncan joined us.

“If we leave now, we could be back by suppertime,” Duncan said.

“Well, let’s do it!” Eric replied, seconding my agreement. He got it.

Duncan was well qualified to be our guide. Few Caucasians had the extraordinary skills needed to survive in the Arctic. Duncan did. He’d been eighteen when hired by the fur-trading branch of The Hudson’s Bay Company. For the next fifteen years, he worked in numerous tiny communities scattered along Canada’s 97,000 miles of Arctic coastline. He learned to live and hunt like Inuit and became fluent in many dialects of the Inuktitut (Inuit) language.

Eric and I were city dwellers. We’d arrived in the capital, Yellowknife, a week earlier to report on a session of the NWT government. We were ill equipped when the side trip to Inuvik had come up at the last minute, much less this additional side trip.

No worry, we both agreed. A short excursion to photograph an igloo and interview the occupants … what could possibly go wrong? We were sure we’d be fine with our urban winter coats, lined gloves, wing-tip shoes, and lined overshoes. Neither we, nor our employers, considered it necessary to invest in the traditional winter garb everyone else was wearing – knee-length hooded parkas, multi-layer wool and fur mittens, and sealskin mukluks.

We set off in early afternoon, according to our watches. It was dark. What passes as daylight in the high Arctic in winter amounts to a few minutes of dawn just before noon followed by a few minutes of dusk, then dark.