Man! My recent travels and work schedule have left me too exhausted to even make this blog today, but if the pilots above can fly their helicopters when I am exhausted, then I ought to be able to make a post.
As regular readers know, I have spent the past few weeks zipping about the Arctic and Interior by plane and car, shooting from one location to another, bouncing from 0 degrees F to 65 above and doing it all with many nights of little sleep.
Yet, I only accomplished about one-third of what I wanted to, what I needed to. In this time period, three major events that I needed to cover and be present for took place almost simultaneously.
One happened in Arizona, and I had planned to go. I had my airplane ticket. It was the one-year tradtional Apache memorial for my cherished friend, the Navajo artist, poet, song-writer, cartoonist and humorist Vincent Craig, whose bedside I had rushed to on May 14, 2010, only to arrive hours before he died. The memorial would take place on May 14, with preliminary events scheduled for the evening of May 13.
Before I learned of the memorial, I had planned to be on the Arctic Slope at the time, or maybe in the Brooks Range village of Anaktuvuk Pass, but when Vincent's wife Mariddie called to invite me to the memorial, I dropped those plans. I cashed in my miles for an Alaska Airlines ticket to Phoenix, Arizona.
From spring through fall, I do not like to leave Alaska to go anyplace where the night gets truly dark, but if there was going to be a memorial for Vincent, then nothing could keep me away - not darkness, not work, not any other event... well... almost no other event.
One month ago today, I dropped Margie off at the airport so that she could go to Arizona before me and spend some good time with the Apache side of our family. Afterward, I stopped by the Alaska Native Medical Center to visit my friend, Larry Aiken.
There, I happened upon Bruce Cain, director of operations for Ahtna, the Alaska Native Regional Corporation whose territory includes most of the Copper River basin. Bruce informed me that 95 year-old Katie John would be receiving her honorary Doctor of Laws degree from the University of Alaska, Fairbanks at ceremonies to be held in Tok on May 13 and Fairbanks May 15.
What a quandary! My heart told me that I HAD to be in Arizona for Vincent's memorial. My heart also told me that I HAD to be in Tok and Fairbanks for the honoring of Katie John. I had a history with Katie as well, and the way circumstances had played out had made me the only journalist to cover first hand the final, critical events of her story, particularly when she met with Governor Tony Knowles at Batzulnetas on the bank of Tanada Creek and turned his heart away from what all the major non-Native voices of power, money, and influence told him he must do in the best interest of the State of Alaska and instead toward justice for Katie and Alaska Natives.
I had also spent time in her culture camp. It was while I was landing on the road in Mentasta to cover her victory celebration that I had crashed and destroyed my airplane. After I crawled out of the cockpit, I shook that personal disaster off and I covered that celebration.
With this history, how could I miss the honoring of Katie John - a one-time event in the life of one of Alaska's true heros and most important people?
I couldn't miss it. I had to be there.
I snapped the picture above, by the way, as I walked down Seldon Street the morning after I returned from Katie's honoring.
So I set off to Point Hope and then Barrow with plans to return to Wasilla on the evening of May 8. This would give me time to take care of business, prepare an essay on Katie's history, square some things away and rest up a bit before I drove off to Tok.
Yet, on Friday, May 6, I borrowed a snowmachine from the North Slope Borough's Department of Wildlife Management and made my way across the Barrow ice to the camp of the Saggan whaling crew, captained by North Slope Borough Mayor Edward Itta.
I did not intend to stay beyond one evening. I went there intending to get a single picture, one of the Mayor at whale camp that I could put in Uiñiq along with a statement from the Mayor.
After I took a few pictures from which I could select, my plan was to visit other whale camps as well as the "perch," where scientists and whale counters were conducting a bowhead census.
Yet, after I reached Saggan camp, I saw the good spirit and enthusiasm of the crew. I saw how strongly they desired to receive the gift of the whale and to feed their community. I had no way to know if they would succeed, but if they did, I wanted to be there to document it.
Come Sunday, May 8, the ice conditions made it apparent to me that they would not be able to get their whale before my flight was scheduled to leave. I decided that I could still get everything done that I needed to do if I waited until the night of Tuesday, May 10, to go home.
Come that night, I pushed my departure back one more day, to the night of Wednesday, May 11. This would be pushing it, but would still enable me to get back to Wasilla in time to accomplish the bare minimum of what I needed to do before making the six hour drive to Tok.
Shortly before I left, the lead closed. Saggan crew pulled off the ice.
Sometime after I boarded my plane, Saggan returned to the lead, which had reopened. Twelve hours after I left Barrow, their bowhead came to them and they landed it.
I was thrilled for Saggan, but devastated for me. Utterly, utterly, devastated. I had missed the moment by so little.
Yet, there was nothing to do but my laundry, take a short night's rest and then drive to Tok and Fairbanks to cover the honoring of Katie John.
What does one person do, when three major events that he longs to be at happen simultaneously?
As frustrating as it is, I do believe that I made the right decision.
This honor will come to Katie John but once in a most significant lifetime.
I needed to be there. I was there.
And tonight, Margie will come home. Tonight, I will see my grandsons - who left for New Mexico and Arizona even before she did - in what feels to me like about ten years ago.
So I plan to put them on this blog tomorrow. This also means that I will push my promised posts from my Arctic travels back until next week.
In the meantime, here is Jim yesterday in the backyard, where the buds now sprout into leaves.