Living at 68° North in Inuvik, Northwest Territories, I’ve learned that being Santa’s unofficial neighbor comes with its own unique set of survival challenges. While the rest of the world is sipping hot cocoa by the fireplace, I’m out here testing whether my eyelashes will freeze together before I can blink twice. Spoiler alert: they absolutely will.
But here’s the thing about Christmas in the Arctic wilderness—it’s magical in ways that would make even the most seasoned survivalist tear up (though those tears would freeze immediately, so we try to keep emotions in check up here).
When Santa’s Workshop Is Your Backyard
I’ll never forget the first Christmas I spent up here. Fresh from the UK, still thinking my “waterproof” jacket from the Lake District would handle -40°C. Reader, it did not. I learned very quickly that what passes for “cold” in most of the world is what we call “a mild Tuesday” up here.
Living this close to the Arctic Circle means that by late December, we’re only getting about five hours of daylight. The sun barely peeks over the horizon like it’s checking whether it left the oven on, then immediately heads back down. It’s during these long, dark nights that you start to understand why Santa chose this neighborhood—plenty of time for toy production when there’s no sunshine to distract you!
I’ve often joked with the locals that if Santa’s sleigh ever broke down on Christmas Eve, at least he’d have a neighbor who knows how to build an emergency snow shelter. Though I suspect those reindeer would be less than thrilled about my quinzee-building techniques. More on that later.
The Rule of Threes: Christmas Edition
In survival, we live by the Rule of Threes: you can survive 3 minutes without air, 3 hours in harsh weather, 3 days without water, and 3 weeks without food. But during Christmas in the Arctic, I’ve developed my own festive variation:
- 3 seconds before your hot chocolate becomes an ice sculpture
- 3 layers minimum before you can feel your toes
- 3 backup fire-starting methods (because one will definitely fail when you need it most)
- 3 excuses ready for why you can’t go outside to “just quickly” grab something from the truck
The layering system I’ve talked about before becomes absolutely critical during the holidays. Nothing ruins Christmas dinner faster than hypothermia, trust me. I always tell visitors: start with a merino wool base layer, add your fleece mid-layer, and top it off with your Arctic-rated parka. Then add another layer because you clearly underestimated how cold “cold” can get.
Foraging for Festive Food Sources
Now, I’ve written extensively about identifying safe food sources in the wild. But Christmas foraging up here takes on a whole different character. Last year, I was out checking my winter emergency supplies when I stumbled upon what I could have sworn was a gingerbread house half-buried in the snow.
Turns out it was my neighbor’s shed covered in frost, but for one glorious moment, I thought I’d finally discovered evidence of the North Pole’s legendary baked goods infrastructure.
In all seriousness, winter food procurement in the Arctic requires serious preparation. I keep my bug-out bag stocked with high-calorie, freeze-resistant foods—dried fruits, energy bars, and enough jerky to last through any blizzard. Santa might have Mrs. Claus’s cookies to keep him going, but the rest of us need to think practically.
One tip I’ve learned the hard way: chocolate bars become weapons-grade hard when frozen. I once tried to bite into a frozen chocolate bar and nearly lost a filling. Now I keep a few bars tucked inside my inner layers where body heat keeps them edible. Survival isn’t always glamorous, but neither is emergency dental work in the wilderness.
Wildlife Encounters of the Festive Kind
Speaking of the local wildlife, let me tell you about my first encounter with caribou during the holiday season. There I was, practicing my fire-starting techniques in the bush, when I heard the distinctive sound of hooves on snow. My first thought? “The reindeer have finally come to recruit me for the sleigh team!”
Reality was slightly less magical—it was a small herd of caribou who seemed thoroughly unimpressed by my presence. They gave me the kind of look that suggested they had far more important places to be (possibly a flying lesson, who knows?).
But here’s something serious beneath the humor: wildlife encounters in winter require extra caution. Animals are competing for limited food resources, and surprise encounters can be dangerous. I always carry bear spray on both hips, even in winter, and make plenty of noise when moving through the bush. The singing of Christmas carols serves dual purposes up here—festive spirit AND wildlife alert system.
Building a Holiday Shelter: The Quinzee Christmas Special
I’ve covered quinzee building in previous videos, but there’s something special about constructing a snow shelter during the holidays. Picture this: a dome of packed snow, carefully hollowed out, with just enough room for you and your emergency supplies. It’s basically a very cold igloo, and I like to think of it as my Arctic version of a gingerbread house—except this one might actually save your life.
The key to a good quinzee is patience. You heap up the snow, let it settle for about two hours (a process called sintering), then hollow it out from the inside. Those sticks I poke into the pile? They’re my depth gauges, telling me when I’ve dug far enough. Without them, you risk breaking through the wall, and nothing says “Merry Christmas” like your shelter collapsing at 2 AM.
I once had a visitor ask if I’d ever decorated a quinzee for Christmas. The answer is no, but now I can’t stop thinking about it. Battery-powered fairy lights might actually work quite well in there. Note to self: next year’s YouTube video idea.
The Real Magic of an Arctic Christmas
Here’s what I’ve come to appreciate about spending Christmas in the wilderness: it strips everything down to what really matters. When it’s -40°C outside and the aurora borealis is dancing across the sky in ribbons of green and purple, you don’t care about the latest gadgets or perfect presents. You care about warmth, connection, and the incredible beauty of the natural world.
My emergency preparedness takes on a different meaning during the holidays. Yes, I maintain my winter car emergency kit with the military-grade shovel, extra fuel, and survival sleeping bag. But I also make sure there’s room for a thermos of hot cocoa and a few extra blankets for any stranded traveler who might need them.
Because that’s the real spirit of Christmas up here—looking out for each other in an environment that demands respect and preparation. Whether it’s sharing survival tips, lending a hand to dig someone out of a snowbank, or just waving at a fellow Arctic resident across the frozen landscape, we’re all in this together.
Final Thoughts from Santa’s Neighborhood
As I write this, the temperature outside is hovering around -30°C, the wind is picking up, and I’m mentally running through my survival checklist. Block heater? Plugged in. Emergency supplies? Stocked. Fire-starting materials? Ready to go.
But I’m also looking forward to the simple pleasures: watching the northern lights from my window, enjoying a hot meal, and maybe—just maybe—catching a glimpse of a certain red sleigh flying overhead on Christmas Eve.
To all my fellow wilderness enthusiasts out there: stay warm, stay prepared, and remember that the best survival tool you have is your positive mental attitude. And maybe a really good pair of insulated boots.
From my little corner near the top of the world, Merry Christmas and happy surviving!
Stay safe out there, and don’t forget to hit that subscribe button for more Arctic survival tips. And if you see Santa, tell him his neighbor says hello.
