In Iqaluit, Nunavut’s capital and the largest community in Canada’s Arctic, a fledgling public transit service is seeking to provide reliable transportation where none existed before. Launched in March by Jacinto Marques, an immigrant from Angola, Iqaluit Transit operates with a small fleet of secondhand buses acquired from Edmonton and Philadelphia and shipped north on the annual sealift.

Mr. Marques, 36, who also works as the company’s security guard and repairman, faced immediate challenges maintaining the aging vehicles amid the region’s harsh conditions. On one spring morning, a battery tray became stuck on his primary bus, forcing him to dispatch a backup vehicle—a black school bus—to maintain service punctuality. Despite such obstacles, he remains determined to establish a functioning transit system in a city where residents without cars had previously limited options aside from walking or paying high taxi fares.

Iqaluit, home to roughly 8,300 people, has seen rapid growth since it became the capital of Nunavut in 1999, attracting new government workers and increasing ethnic diversity. The city’s infrastructure has traditionally lagged behind its expanding population, with no municipal transit since a short-lived service was discontinued two decades ago due to low ridership.

For residents like Jordan Angnetsiaq, 35, a government employee who lives in Apex, the furthest neighborhood from downtown, the new bus service offers a practical alternative. Mr. Angnetsiaq had walked three miles daily, sometimes for up to an hour each way, and took taxis only when limited by physical discomfort. The bus fare is five Canadian dollars—approximately half the cost of local taxis.

The service's initial ridership has fluctuated, influenced by seasonal factors such as warmer weather and Indigenous harvesting traditions that draw many Inuit away from the city during spring and summer. Indigenous practices related to fishing and camping in the surrounding wilderness remain integral to life in the region, affecting transit demand.

Mr. Marques’ connection to the Arctic began years earlier through a friendship with Hugh Karpik, an Inuit man from Pangnirtung, and later visits to Iqaluit, where he recognized economic opportunities despite the high cost of living. After college, Mr. Marques settled in the city, working in security and law enforcement roles that exposed him to the region’s unique needs. During the COVID-19 pandemic, he launched a delivery service to overcome logistical challenges residents faced, using the profits to invest in his transit venture.

Operating without a garage, heating and readiness of the buses require early morning effort. Despite these hardships, Mr. Marques rejects the notion that the Arctic setting makes such enterprises impossible. He and his younger brother Claudio, who supports the operation from Ottawa, have introduced features like wireless door sensors and online tracking to enhance the user experience.

While ridership remains modest and inconsistent, some regular passengers express hope that the service will endure and expand. Esther Usman, a long-term resident from the Philippines, described the initiative as vital for the community, while newcomer Sajith Maanikavasagam noted the novelty of near-empty buses on bright summer days, reflecting the seasonal ebb in demand.

As the Iqaluit Transit buses loop through streets that lead past municipal landmarks, housing developments, and a mosque, the persistence behind this Inuit capital’s tentative step into public transportation is clear. For Mr. Marques, the service is more than a business—it is a commitment to connecting a remote city that has long lacked this vital resource.