At the opening ceremony of the Arctic Winter Games more than 2,000 circumpolar athletes marched into the Canada Games Arena in Grande Prairie, Alta., waving the flags of their homeland.

They sat with their respective teams, as the fans welcomed the athletes of Greenland, Nunavik, Sápmi, Alaska, Yamal-Nenets, Yukon, Northwest Territories, Alberta North, and Nunavut.

One week later, at the closing ceremony, the athletes sat interspersed. In doing so, the bonds made over a week between vastly different and yet remarkably similar groups of people, were showcased.

Some traded jackets and made last minute pin exchanges. Others joked around with the athletes they just competed against.

Some held hands, clinging to the final moments of the new love their hearts claimed would last forever (or at least, maybe, a long-distance month or two).

One industrious young man from Greenland made sure his Sámi crush typed the correct digits into her blackberry.

It was the final gathering of a week of social and cultural interaction, which brought together the finest of sport and spirit.

I was reminded of the bantam male hockey final between Team NWT and Team Nunavut. The teams had upset the tournament favorites, Team Alaska and Team Alberta North, in the semi-finals.

Team NWT easily won the final match 7-2, but at the buzzer both teams celebrated as though the Stanley Cup would soon drift around the rink.

With the territories on their jerseys, and carried in their hearts, they waved flags and hugged each other as though a great journey had ended.

The two teams then posed for a victory photo together. Interspersed, white and yellow, NWT and Nunavut--together.

It was my favorite moment at the Arctic Winter Games--an event that I came to in complete ignorance of what I would find.

I had never heard of Dene games before coming to Grande Prairie. Now, I can't stop talking about them.

Neither had I witnessed a one-foot high kick or a knuckle hop. Now, I think they should be in the Olympics.

And I had never traded for a pin before. Now, I own 12.

There are many people who have never heard of the Arctic Winter Games, and they will likely go on not knowing.

That, in my humble opinion, is a very sad thing.

The Games are a celebration of circumpolar sport and culture. They are about competition and athletic achievement. They are about meeting new people and learning new, remarkable things.

I chatted with many athletes and parents over past week, and again and again I heard the same thing:

"These are our Olympics."

Many of these athletes come from remote communities of maybe 200-500 people. The welcome they received in Grande Prairie was as meaningful to them as Vancouver's welcome was to the world's Olympians a few weeks back.

When Team Nunavut won the midget male hockey bronze ulu, I managed to catch this video clip on my camera. The Nunavut fans had been wild all week long--by far the most-powerful force in the stands. And here, as their flag waves for a third-place finish, you'd think they'd just won Olympic gold: 

But no, they didn't win Olympic gold. They won bronze at the 2010 Arctic Winter Games.

They won the kind of memory that lingers on and on. A reminder of more youthful days, when the world it seemed--your world, at least--was cheering wildly with you.

And oh how sweet it was.

Follow Dan Robson on Twitter. He can also be reached at dan.robson@cbc.ca.