Saturday, August 28, 2010

Hunting Season

Aerial of Kotzebue in the background and the tundra nearby.
Lately in the early morning I've been hearing some distant popping sounds. They seemed familiar and yesterday I learned why. Hunting season has begun. At the club, youth talked of their excitement to hunt caribou this weekend. Some bragged of being permitted to skip school to hunt.



Travis told us that 90 percent of his family's meat diet is comprised of caribou they hunt. He explained that it is a waste of money to buy meat at the A.C. store, and tags for caribou are easy to get. Of his hunting challenges, this seventh grader said he was too little to carry even one caribou leg. Each one could weigh roughly two hundred pounds.


With a glow in his face, Travis explained that it takes two hours to skin the large animals, bleed and butcher them. Transporting he meat home can involve many trips on atv trailers. (Shooting a caribou from the water is easier because it can be hauled back with the boat.) The meat is hung up to dry and the hide can be bleached with sourdough or willow bark.


During the winter, some polar bears come down from the north to hunt. Travis told us of a trip on his snow machine where he came too close to one. The bear was quickly frightened away by Travis's father. He had heard stories of them going into the villages looking for food.


Travis knows a lot about the polar bear. Our fourteen-year-old expert said they hunt caribou and seal. These huge animals wait for their prey on the thick ice of the Kotzebue Sound. They can see seals swimming below the ice are there to greet them when one comes up for air or to rest. The ice has been as thick as ten feet in years past, he said. Ice fishing was impossible because the augers weren't long enough to cut the hole in the ice. Doesn't this sound like some National Geographic show about the far north? This is real life here.


Our former clubhouse manager hunts seal. A clubhouse youth talked proudly of Lance bringing in a seal and teaching club members to skin and butcher it. Chase spoke of how they learned to tan the skin and extract the oil from the seal that Lance killed. The remnants of seal oil pervades the air of the downstairs club area.


Lance offered me a taste of the oil from a jar that had been stored in one of the club's refrigerators. It tastes like fish. He said it's good on blueberries and of course people also cook with it.


Yesterday there was a mass exodus from town to hunt or go to camp. Outside our living room window, I watched people back their boats into the Sound last night. The small ramp has been quiet today and the familiar popping sounds could be heard in the distance.

Monday, August 16, 2010

Learning the Basics

Recently I learned some of the simple things required to make life work when moving to a new state. It can be very embarrassing to ask questions about such things as how to get gas, getting a post office box key that works, and what it takes to make a long distance phone call. Sometimes we bungle along and eventually figure these things out through trial and error. Asking for help is usually the shortest route to accomplishment.

One morning mid last week, I drove in the company van to the post office as usual after the morning jet. It had rained the previous night and therefore had to maneuver around large puddles on the gravely roads. When I tried the new key that I bought for the company's p.o. box, it didn't work. Same problem as last week but with a different key.
 
This time I noticed the lock was pretty lose so I went to the counter to let them know. The postmaster inspected the back side of the lock and determined it was loose. After tightening the lock back into position, she took her can of WD 40 to the external side of the lock. Spraying the key with WD-40, she crammed the key into the lock. While stiff at first, the key began to easily turn the tumblers restoring the key's worth in opening the lock. A kind and thorough service she did perform.

In the early afternoon, Kotzebue Electric Association's auto repair staff members Harold and Claude came by to fix the oil leak in the van. After tightening the oil filter, there were no more drips. They also made the turn signals work. Safe driving returned to the van.

The cell phone was next on the list of fixes. As many friends and family know, I've been unable to dial out or accept calls on my Oregon cell phone. Sometimes first thing in the morning, a text message to Rick can be made before the phone stops sending or receiving. At the cell phone carrier's office the nice woman behind the counter punched some buttons, thinking it was a setting issue. When she reviewed the numbers into the address book, she said it is not necessary to use the area code when calling someone in the State of Alaska. The phone would dial out but then drop the call. After she finally fixed it, I said, "I knew you could fix it! You're the one who knows how to get any problem fixed.

Due to a change in attitude, the above changes were able to happen. Possibility thinking helped move past the above obstacles. Changing one's attitude about how things work can really produce different outcomes.

Thursday, August 12, 2010

Memorial for Former Senator Ted Stevens

 
Senator Ted Stevens was beloved by many people in his home state of Alaska. The affects of his works have been far reaching. No matter what a person's politics, you have to admire what he accomplished for the Alaska people.

Former Senator Stevens and four others were killed in a plane crash on Monday near the small fishing town of Dillingham, in Southwest Alaska. There were nine people on board the 1957 DeHavilland DHC-3 Otter when it crashed into a rocky, brush-covered hillside. Among the survivors are former NASA chief Sean O’Keefe and his son Kevin, who were treated for broken bones and released from a hospital in Anchorage. Funeral arrangements are set for next Wednesday at the All Saints Episcopal Church in Anchorage.

While walking home from Alaska Commercial (AC) today, I came across a memorial to Senator Stevens near the health center. Beneath a hand-painted sign was a chicken-wire grid where bouquets of flowers had been inserted. A large teddy bear was was attached with wire to the mesh. With a sense of urgency, I rushed home to get my camera. This was something that had to be captured and documented. Yesterday there was a bundle of plastic flowers that had been affixed to a post of the unfinished sign. At the time, I wondered if someone had died there like you see along the highway sometimes. Well not there, but someone very important had died and a memorial for one of Alaska's most famous citizen was coming alive.

 
Remembrances could be seen and felt everywhere. Flags were flying at half staff at the health center and city hall. Tributes to the man have been airing on the radio. Articles can be found in newspapers and on the Internet.

Our community mourns the loss of this great man. Many persons around the state will fly to Anchorage for the service. No one can rival the popularity of this man of Alaska. He is missed.

Saturday, August 7, 2010

Change of Season

 
The season has changed. It is now fall. The arctic wind arrived this week and the light has a different quality. Sunsets are still long and late but a photo in a recent issue of Anchorage Daily News illustrates a dark night sky. Winter will be here soon. But wait, it is only the beginning of August.

When I arrived two weeks ago, it was the height of summer. Gorgeous, warm days and long nights were the norm.
 
On late-night strolls, some people wore shorts and would visit as though the daylight was endless. Our bodies enjoyed the exercise. We traveled the longer routes home while holding hands. I took pictures of the sky and lagoons while we discovered the beauty of this land. Striking photos of calm ocean waters, pink skies, recreational boats, and houses were the subjects. These nights would bring disorientation when we returned home. The hour was late. How could this be with such strong rays of light and warm air?

However, late last week I noticed a different quality to the air, a heaviness. Possible rain even. As I spoke this observation to Rick, it sounded crazy. It was the beginning of August. In the North Bay Area where I was raised, August would bring the hot days of California's Indian summer. The best weather of the year was about to begin on the south central Oregon Coast where we had last lived. But still there was no doubt remaining by midweek. Fall had arrived as evidenced by the dark clouds that enveloped the sky and the wind chill lowered the temperatures. The veil of an ancient cold is moving southward.

At the softball game tonight, we accepted our season's fate. The chilly wind blew the lifeless dust on the field where a wetland used to exist. Drake Construction brought their water truck over and sprayed down the field. Cheers were heard from the bystanders, the Coast Guard's volunteer team, and local players. Children dressed in warm jackets and adults with an occasional pair of gloves were meeting the challenge of the new season.

Fall is short. We've been told that within a month, the weather will be too cold for the children to play outside. Will more of them come to the club? Is that when the first snow falls?

Wednesday, August 4, 2010

Alaska Airlines jets

This morning Rick and I stood on our front porch to watch the 7:50 jet land at the Ralph Wien Memorial Airport in Kotzebue (http://www.alaskaair.com/airport/AirportGuides.aspx?code=OTZ ).  When the jet drops down into the local airspace from 32,000 feet,  it is a crescendo of sound that penetrates the quiet of this Alaskan town.

As the Alaska Airlines jet made its approach, we felt the sound move through our bodies. With a sharp determination and landing lights illuminated, the plane made its graceful descent onto the landing strip. Brakes surged and engines exhaled sharply to avoid the hill at the end of the runway. Another beautiful landing.

You can set your watch by the landings as they can be heard no matter where you live. Three of flights land and take off each day, mostly on time. They originate in Anchorage. On rotation, they stop in Nome on the way to Kotzebue or after leaving this city. On the last flight out on Friday, you can see many familiar faces waiting to walk through security and board. On Sunday night, it's the same. People are returning from Anchorage or other cities in this great state.

Alaska Airlines transports more than just passengers. They also carry freight. Lots of freight in and out of this town. Sometimes they fly "combies," those planes that have a movable wall for more or less cargo space. They bring the U.S. mail on all three flights. People receive their mail on a space available basis. When Rick moved up, it took six to eight weeks to receive the large uHaul boxes that we mailed from Oregon. So far I've received four of the boxes that I sent up. Only nine to go. ;)

Tonight Rick and I watched a cargo plane take off while we were out on the tundra. What a graceful beast. The plane flew over the water into the pink sky of sunset at 10:10pm. In the distance, the sun cast its rays down onto the horizon.

Destination? One of the eleven villages in the Northwest Arctic Borough. Another day of travel complete.