Sunday, November 28, 2010

Parkie for Christmas

As the mercury in the thermometer became less and less visible, many women began to wear their parkies around Kotzebue. After seeing one that my neighbor had been given, I knew a parkie was the thing to have when facing the subzero temperatures. Working with Easter brought back memories of my mother and grandmother.

After arranging a meeting, Rick drove us to Easter's home on a recent Saturday afternoon. On the porch, several shee fish lay at her doorstep. Upon entering, we were greeted by three generations of family, the youngest only a toddler. Easter was seated at the kitchen table pulling white feathers from small birds. "I had told someone that I hadn't had ptarmigan for a long time and someone left them at my door," she explained as the feathers fell into the kitchen garbage can and the red blood covered her nimble fingers.

We spent about an hour in Easter's small home. Trying on parkies from different fabrics, we had a good laugh when I zipped up a large one and pulled the fabric away from my stomach. "This is too big," I said with a laugh. Easter had lain awake the previous night wondering how big I was and how tall. "The sleeves need to be longer," I said as I pulled the calico fabric down towards the back of my left hand.

Rick sat patiently in the living room with Easter's husband and a couple of her daughters while we rummaged through trim and fabric in the hallway sewing closet. We dug through various colors of trim and fabric searching for her measuring tape. When I found it, she said, "You help me find things. You can come by when I am not making you a parkie."

Rotman's store after the first snowfall that stuck.
We decided a brown fabric with maroon medallions accented with a buttercup swoosh would be the best although the purple with metallic thread was difficult to pass up. Easter explained that a heavy lining would be difficult to find but she would look at Rotman's while I searched online for a 10 ounce quilted fabric lining. In the end, she scored on an 11 ounce version that gave the parkie a pillow feel when folded up. The trim would be maroon with navy blue and gold accents and the ruff in wolverine with paws, as well as for the skirt hem. The cost of wolverine skins has reached $495 at Rotman's, Easter said. Beaver is traditionally used for the cuffs.

Easter's talent for sewing was renowned, especially with parkie's and mukluks. She had promised eight pairs of mukluks and had at least three other parkies in various stages of completion. The additional income from sewing helps to support Easter and her husband. She praised social security as her steady source of income, having put into the system while working 19 years at Maniilaq's hospital and several years working at Rotman's many years ago.

When we had finished the selection process, Easter returned to her work at the kitchen table. So much work to do, she commented. She spoke of her life in Kotzebue and leaving her parents in Point Hope back in the 1930s after she married. When we departed, my heart was filled with love for her.

Four days later, Easter left a message on our answering machine saying, "Where are you? I try to find you but you are not there. Your parkie is done and you can come pick it up."She had worked on it for three days, staying up until 4am on some nights.

Seeing the finished parkie laying on the couch, I squealed. Easter pointed out that the ruff had the paws. I admired the parkie's stitching and the dark colored fur cuffs. After struggling with the zipper she helped. Reaching into my purse, I pulled out the payment check and folded it in half. Handing it to her, she thanked me. We talked about sewing a short parkie for Rick after Christmas sometime. The price was less than a third the cost of a longer parkie.

Departing, I thanked her for her beautiful work. Soon Rick would also marvel at the care and love Easter put into this beautiful parkie.  Working with her on this project was like returning to my girlhood visiting my grandmother and working on sewing projects with Mom.

Sunday, November 21, 2010

Losing Daylight in the Far North

Riding around in the Kobuk Cab on a Sunday night while the wind blew freezing rain gave me an appreciation for the ever changing climate of this place. Calls filtered in on the radio, "803," "Teacher Housing," "1000 A-2" and more as the cab filled and emptied. I wondered when it would be my turn to be let off this merry go round of travel through meandering streets. Numbered places whirling about while the passenger in the front seat wrote them down. And then another cab driver jumped into the fray, "I'm here. Where should I go? What do you need?" The list of house numbers recounted over the radio.

Extreme weather and darkness is a way of life here in the Far North. As the cab pulls up to our apartment, I take off my insulated gloves to pull the twenty out of my down coat. As the door opens, I look at our fellow passengers in thin fleece jackets and hats. Hoping my blood would thicken soon, I draw down the zipper of my earth-colored coat and feel the warmth of the bodies next to mine in the four-door Subaru.

Stepping out of the economy car, I thank the cab driver, and then he's off to Bayside Restaurant to drop off another passenger. An icy path dimly illuminated by building lights, I successfully navigated the way by doing the Alaska shuffle. Strong gusts of wind impede my progress to the 10 steel steps in front of me.

Once on the porch, I look out from under the eave to watch the icy rain blowing like crazy in the amber-colored light. Unsecured metal objects threaten to give way in the whirling wind. While it was only 7 pm., the sun had set a little more than three hours ago. With less than five hours between the sun mustering an appearance and it touching the horizon again, the darkness captures more and more of each day.

The morning will bring more darkness. Each day the light of the sun hangs lower in the sky and the temperatures normally would continue to drop. But somehow this week, the weather has warmed to a little above freezing. We appreciate the break from the cold. The freakish chinook winds bring warmer temperatures and an abundance of rain, sometimes mixed with snow and then hail. The ice on Swan Lake and the lagoon behind our apartment thins and disappears.

Rick and I walked to the fire hall this afternoon to check in on the team of experts who had come to survey its operations. Shuffling over the icy spots, Rick holds my hand and navigates towards the slushy areas for better traction. Feeling the strong blowing at our back, Rick comments about the strong wind that will hit us on our return trip. My camera bumps on my hip as I wear the strap like a sash. Buttoning up my down coat up higher on the neck, the hood pulls away from my hat-covered head. Instead of returning on foot, we coordinate some transportation so that we can stop by the club to check the timing of the birthday party event that I will oversee in the late afternoon.

We pick up Rick's rig and head back to the fire hall to drop off the other vehicle, thankful that we did not have to walk the distance and back. Transportation has high value in the village, especially during the winter months. Roads are plowed by public works employees working rotating shifts. An occasional truck is buried into a bank of snow having slipped off the road. No one is hurt. Traffic moves cautiously through the paved and unpaved streets.

Outside the wind continues to blow rain about. Temperatures hoover around 35 degrees. Shedding layers of warmth, I close the door upon entering our apartment tonight. Fur-lined boots are cast aside for slippers. Wet down is hung on the bathroom door to dry. The moisture will be sucked out dry from the entryway floor, dry the coat and boots. It's good to be home.

Thursday, November 11, 2010

Veterans Day in Kotzebue

Presentation of the colors.
Many arrived this morning for the Veterans Day Celebration at the Northwest Arctic Heritage Center where a statue commemorating those who served honoring in the Alaska Territorial Guard during World War II. Heartfelt remarks were made regarding those native Alaskans who answered the first call of duty back in the early 1940s. Tears fell for those who died and for those who fought to maintain our freedom.

A celebration for veterans began in Kotzebue during the early 1980s when a handful of locals first began to assemble at the Senior Citizens Cultural Center to share their stories. The ATG servicemen were much younger then, one of the presenters recounted. Each year they talked of their participation in the second world war. ATG servicemen protected Alaska's shores from a possible Japanese attack. Some fought when the Japanese invaded our country on the Aleutian Islands. Others kept the supply line safe while aircraft was transported to Russia to fight the Germans on the Eastern Front.

Highest Ranking Native Alaskan in U.S. military.
The commemoration of veterans has grown over the years and culminated into the most involved celebration yet. Activities included a greeting and remarks by Brigadier General Julio Banez whose father had served in the military while living in Alaska. Among those participating in the ceremony included members of the brigadier general's staff, a color guard and Sergeant Major Wilfred Lane, the highest ranking native Alaskan serving in the U.S. military.

Present were a few ATG veterans that the Northwest Arctic borough had flown in from nearby villages. The president of the Borough Assembly Walter Sampson spoke of the effects of being a soldier had been on his life. His gratitude, and that of his comrades, were expressed in his slow and heartfelt words. He encouraged us to thank veterans for their service. He said that soldiers carry a guilt for those who did not make it home.

Added to the ceremony was the presentation of a medal to the family of the late ATG serviceman James Oyagachiaq Norton Sr. Before his recent passing at age 97, he was the eldest elder in the region. One of his daughters works for the city and his son-in-law is the mayor of Kotzebue.
Nikaitchuat Singers from the Kotzebue IRA immersion school

As part of the festivities, the Nikaitchuat Singers performed the pledge of allegiance and sang My Country Tis of Thee in Inupiak. Dressed in traditional clothing, these young children attend the immersion school in town. The Northern Lights Dancers performed an Inupiak welcome dance. Dignitaries, who represent our region on the state and federal level, were also in attendance. State representative Reggie Joule offered words of praise for those served and encouraged the audience to do the same.


State representative Reggie Joule.
The patriotism shared was deep and heartfelt. May this celebration serve as a reminder to all of us to be grateful to veterans who fought to maintain our freedom and for those all over the world who are continuing to do so on our behalf. May we give praise and honor to those who served or continue to serve our country in this way.

Sunday, November 7, 2010

Settling into the Arctic Cold

Friday sunset over the lagoon.
The sun sets much earlier in Kotzebue than before we left on our Alaska Highway journey. As of today, there will be a little more than seven hours between the sun's rise and set. Driving to work in the darkness is not different than many places. However, here in the Far North, the sun does not show itself until nearly noon. The transition from fall to winter has occurred in this town above the Arctic Circle.

Sitting in our cozy apartment, we are buffered from the extreme cold. Tonight AccuWeather.com is forecasting a light dusting of snow and temperatures as low as seven degrees. But one would not know that without seeking those predictions. The overcast sky is no indication of the impending arrival of snowflakes. The weather just is, no rejection, no denial.

Upon return to this far away city, I was amazed by the beauty of sparkling snow everywhere. My footfalls weighed heavily on these light flakes. Roadside drifts of whiteness were something new to me, a rookie to arctic survivalism.

The quiet of fall has been replaced with loud engines of snow gos. For weeks these toys were sitting idle. Somehow cars have been replaced by these fast vehicles. Riders in large-hooded parkies, have replaced the young and adventurous perched on four wheelers.

The barrier between skin and the air has increased immeasurably. I surfed the Internet last night for the remaining articles of clothing sure to protect my epidermis: ski pants, wool longjohns, snow boots with better traction, ski mask, and the perfect ski hat. In my free time, perhaps I will crochet wool scarves for us. Women dressed in beautiful parkies with deep hoods brimmed with wolverine, wolf, or arctic fox are everywhere. Their extreme warmth has stood the test of time.

Decisions about where to plug in the van and other auto protection systems have come into play. When I peaked outside yesterday morning, the motor was running in Rick's rig. With the newly repaired remote start, he had fired up the engine from a window of the apartment. Maintaining a warm engine temperature has become important.

Each morning I peer out the front door to scan the parking lot for newly-fallen snow on the roofs of neighborhood vehicles. Bundling up for the cold, I step outside for the short walk to start up the van's  engine. Stomping feet on the welcome mat, I shake off traces of white from my boots before entering the apartment. A pair of navy slippers await the transfer of warm feet dressed in wool socks. Snow boots, fleece hat, down coat, a fushia-colored and warm gloves are quickly removed. Several times a day these ritualized movements will occur.

Cars parked outside the post office idle as we wait in line to pick up our parcels, some arriving in boxes labeled with Cabela's, Eddie Bauer and others. Sixth Avenue Outfitters sells subzero Arctic wear with Canada goose down, the best insulating material available. This Anchorage-based clothier mails their sought-after catalogs in August. It remains on our wooden coffee table, receiving occasional reviews during tv commercials. The upstairs at the local AC store is filled with artic wear produced by Columbia, Sorel and others.

Shore Avenue near Rothman's Store.
Driving over to Shore Avenue for a lunch or dinner, I feel the Arctic cold hit my face as we step out of the vehicle. A winter paradise spreads out on all sides and on clear days, we can see the nearby mountains now heavily laden with snow.

Stepping into Bayside Restaurant or the Empress, the dry heat of the room causes us to ease off our winter gear. Our bodies yearn for foods that warm from the inside. Steaming soups, spicy curries, spaghetti with chili flakes, red meats in different forms can all be consumed at expensive Kotzebue prices. Sweat beads surface on the bridge of our noses as our bodies heat up from the spice.

Winter sports are in full swing. Ice fishing, cross country skiing, capturing seals when they come up for air, sledding, and dog mushing activities are springing into action during these days of lessening light.  An endless number of football games, NASCAR races, and soon basketball are available for viewing on the increased number of flat-screened tvs purchased with pfd checks or money saved by eating dinners at home. Soon snow machines will make tracks on the iced-over Sound but caution for patchy areas of thin ice will have to be paid. Streets, Swan Lake, and the lagoons are speedways for this winter mode of transportation and fun.

Soon the holidays will be here with all of its innate hustle and bustle. But for now, we will enjoy this settling process, enjoy the beauty of this Arctic land and enjoy the slower pace inherent in the lessening of light.

Monday, November 1, 2010

End of the Journey to Anchorage

Mountains along Turnagain Arm.
Today was the day we ended our journey to Anchorage. On the road for nine days, it was good to see the Turnagain Arm and the 'Welcome to Anchorage' sign. The activities of each day have already begun to blur. The blog posts and tons of photos serve as a reminder to all of us. But before we say good bye to this road trip, following are the highlights of today:

Sleep came in restless spurts after consuming a rich meal at Jack Spratt's last night. After contemplating whether to sleep or get up, puttering around our luxurious room at the Alyeska Resort won out. Peering out between the dark drapes, the valley trees and nearby mountains were piled with snow. The first snow fall that stuck, the resort is optimistic about opening the ski season on Thanksgiving Day this year.

View from our room at the Alyeska Resort.
To melt away the aches of travel and a couple months of winter climate, Rick and I had appointments for treatments at the hotel spa. Entering the glass door, we entered the soothing atmosphere of the spa. Vapors of cypress wafted through the air. Young Heidi greeted us at the counter in a soothing voice. After giving us a short questionnaire to complete, we followed to some comfortable chairs where she offered beverages.

Heidi directed me to the changing room where a black wardrobe bag with a brass lock, a soft robe, and plastic slippers were stationed. Rick had been taken to a room by Heidi for his pedicure when I opened the door. Sarah greeted me and the now familiar smell of cypress surrounded her. Sarah had been doing stone therapy for nearly eight years, roughly the same amount of time she had been doing massage.

Periodic laughter erupted from outside the closed door to our room. Rick's voice settled my heart. He had been apprehensive about having a pedicure but his feet had suffered from the dry climate and freezing temperatures of Kotzebue.

When Sarah finished her magic,  I changed back into my sweats and headed back to our room where Rick was ready to check out. After taking our things down to the car, we settled up at the front desk. Turning our backs on the great hunter statue, we exited the lobby and settled into the Camry for the short ride to the Five Chairs Cafe in the Girdwood's new townsite. During the ski season, Five Chairs is a hopping place. Young, hip skiers and boarders enjoyed the great food and brews available at this dining establishment.

After lunch, we began the final 36 miles of our journey to Anchorage. With the tide rushing in, the Turnagain Arm was on our left. Steep mountains, with horned sheep at the high elevations, took up the right side of this stretch of the Seward Highway. Rick and I talked about returning to Kotzebue and the worked we enjoyed there.

We pulled up at the Dimond Center Hotel for our two-night stay. Pastel colors in the lobby, this hotel was esthetically pleasing. The hotel is owned by the Soldovia Tribe's native corporation.  Our room was painted in a dark teal color with light wooded furniture. A layout similar to the Cannery Pier Hotel in Astoria, the large bathroom contained a deep soaking tub.

After more than 3,000 miles, the Camry was due for a bath and an oil change. While waiting for the oil change, I engaged in an activity typical of someone out from the bush -- I shopped! Where to go first? Very exciting! After navigating the car wash, the shiny Camry felt like a new car as I zoomed back to the hotel to pick up Rick for dinner.

We went to the Moose's Tooth Restaurant for dinner. A local hangout, this brewpub is famous for its pizza. Enjoying some long-sought over pizza, we had our fill and headed back to the hotel where I am now completing the final post for this trip. With Star Wars: The Phantom Menace playing on tv and sitting in a comfortable chair, we ended our journey. Wednesday morning I will return to Kotzebue. Rick will follow on flight 153 that night.

Even though we took a more relaxed approach to Anchorage in our final days, we still arrived within our scheduled date. While weather in late October can be quite unpredictable, we encountered very little weather-related hurdles to climb. The gorgeous country one would never see without traveling the Alaska Highway was enjoyed by us and those who read of our journey.

Though this journey is complete, the one of our lives in Kotzebue is still unfolding. This medium will be used for periodic postings of our life in a place thirty-three miles above the Arctic Circle. We return to this place with new experiences waiting to be shared. Until then, good bye dear family and friends.