Buddy, a dog from Wasilla, makes good in Barrow; Flossie feeds me a good Iñupiaq lunch

As I walked from the far end of the sprawling Barrow neighborhood of Browerville, I passed by the Northern Lights Restaurant. I was hungry, and for a moment I thought maybe I would go in and buy some chow mien or Kung Pao chicken.

What a foolish thought! I was on my way to the home of Roy and Flossie Nageak and I knew that they would feed me - and it would be a bigger, better, meal than I would get in a restaurant. I needed to save room in my tummy for it, so I just walked right by Northern Lights.

Soon, I was sitting on the living room couch. Roy was out for a bit, but Flossie was there and so was Buddy, a half-dalmatian dog that came to Barrow from Wasilla.

Buddy was happy to see me. He wanted to know everything that had happened in Wasilla since he left as a pup, all these many years ago.

When I told him, he simply could not believe it.

I mean, if it wasn't something that we have witnessed, who could possibly believe it?

Roy and Flossie's grandson Amare Roy, a beautiful mix of Iñupiaq and Filipino, was there. He pedaled about as Flossie pulled together the ingredients for a good lunch.

Soon, she called me to the table. Laid before me was bowhead maktak and flipper, frozen caribou, frozen fish and seal oil. That's a frozen grayling that she is cutting with her ulu. 

When I was still new to this country, I once took a seat at an Iñupiat table and my hostess asked me if I needed a steak knife. "Yes," I answered, picturing one of those flimsy, serrated things that mainstream America calls steak knifes.

Instead, she sat a big, sturdy-bladed, razor-honed, hunting knife in front of me. This, and even better, an ulu, is the kind of knife it takes to slice up Iñupiaq food. Using what Mainstream America calls a steak knife, you could not possibly cut up the maktak you see on the other side of the knife.

I soon learned to carry a good knife with me at all times. This worked out well for awhile and I stayed well-fed, but then along came international terrorism and tightened airport security. I kept forgetting to take my $50 to $70 folding knives out of my pocket and the good folk of the Transportation Security Administration kept taking those knives away from me.

So now I must borrow a knife whenever I eat an Iñupiaq meal.

I had not had such a meal for awhile. This one was excellent - and the blubber that you see attached to the black skin is not at all like beef fat and it is healthy. It is full of the good kind of chorlesteral. The black skin is rich in Vitamin C.

It is the food of the Arctic, and it is the best food to eat in the Arctic - especially if you want to stay warm.

Plus, my tummy had been feeling irritated for a couple of days. This good, oily, food calmed it down and made it feel much better.

Flossie offers a piece of frozen grayling to Amare, but today he wants a hotdog.

Flossie slices up a hotdog with her ulu and then the three of us chow down. My fingers quickly became too oily to handle my camera, so I put it down.

After we had eaten, Flossie brewed tea.

And cookies go good with tea.

This is what it looked like out the window. The sun has been down now since November 18, but, as you can see, it is on its way back. It will rise for about half-an-hour on Saturday, January 23 - tomorrow. It's time above the horizon will then increase for about 15 minutes a day until midnight on May 10. It will then slide across the northern horizon of the sea ice and then not set again until early August.

Sadly, I will not be able to photograph the return of the sun. Lavina is having labor contractions, more than a month early, and while they are far apart and the hope is she can hold off for another week or more, I am going home. I have accomplished all that I needed to accomplish this trip and, as much as I would like to photograph the returning sun, I want even more to be there when my next grandchild is born.

I want Margie to be there, too, and Mary, Lavina's mom. So I really hope this new baby waits awhile - but, just in case these contractions grow strong and push it out, I am going home so I can be there.

After Roy returned, everybody gathered around my laptop to see a picture spread that I did with images that I took of them last summer.

Roy and Amare, with Flossie in the background.

A bowl of caribou soup in honor of Arnold Brower Sr - and a few other items as well

On October 8 of last year, I posted a memorial notice for Arnold Brower, Sr., one Barrow's most accomplished and respected whaling captains. I used a picture that I took at his table, of him ladling caribou soup from a big cooking pot with many family members gathered around. I noted how, just by the taste of it, Arnold could tell you the location where a caribou had been shot and in what season of the year.

He died while hunting caribou at the age of 86. Shortly after he shot his last one, he fell through the ice of the Chip River on his snowmachine. He pulled himself out of the water and, as the story was told in the tracks that he left behind, went to that last caribou and used its fur to pull water from his clothing, and its heat to warm his body.

But it was not enough and so Barrow lost this wonderful man.

This is Gordon, one of his 17 children, and Gordon's son, Bradley. Bradley is already a successful caribou hunter and not too long ago he shot his first seal, which, as Iñupiat tradition demands, he gave away to elders. He is an accomplished fisherman and already knows many of the skills necessary to live on ice and in snow.

Two afternoons ago, I stopped by Gordon's house, which he was busy remodeling. We did an interview hours long and he told me of several experiences that he had had with his dad, and also the process that he and the ABC Crew went through to rise above their grief, get themselves back out on the ice and bring home a whale to feed to the community of Barrow.

Due to weather and ice conditions, this past season was an extremely hard one in Barrow and the first whale caught was not landed until the first hour of May 17 - by Gordon Brower and the ABC crew that he captained in his father's stead.

May 17 was also Arnold Brower Sr's 87th birthday.

After the interview, Gordon fed me some caribou soup and had some himself. And guess who shot the caribou?

Arnold Brower Sr. It was from one of the animals that he had taken on his last hunting trip.

He has been gone for nearly ten months now, and still he continues to feed his family and many others. I feel honored that one of those he fed was me.

And this is Gordon's sister, Dora, and her husband Ned Arey, taken the next night. They are about to feed me mikigaq - fermented meat and maktak - from the whale that the ABC crew landed. Arnold Sr. also taught Ned much of his knowledge and the Arey's have formed a whaling crew of their own.

The second whale of Barrow's season came to them and when it came time for Nalukatak, the two crews joined together as one - because they are one family - to feed the community.

Before we ate, the Arey's also spent a couple of hours telling me of their experiences with Arnold, both before and after his death.

It is going to be a challenge to do this story justice in the special issue of Uiñiq magazine that I am making, but I will give it the best that I can.

Whaling captain Ned Arey loves to barbecue and that's why he placed this tank of propane gas on his deck - to barbecue with. But before he could fire up the grill for the first time, a redpole built a nest and laid some eggs.

So he has not used the barbecue. 

About six baby birds have hatched and there is one more to go.

Shortly after Dora showed me the nest, the momma flew away. I was very worried, because it was cold and windy.

"Don't worry," Dora told me. "She will come right back."

And she did.

See the AC and the heart with the arrow through it? That same heart and arrow is on the Arey Crew flag and speaks to God's love in creating the abundance of this world, most notably the whale, which gives itself and is then fed to the people.

This is Qiñugan Teigland, the niece of Julius Rexford, who hosted the Point Lay Nalukatak. Another of her uncles, Olemaun Rexford and his wife, Thelma, recently opened Arigaa Coffee in Barrow, thus creating what is the farthest north roadside coffee kiosk in the world.

At the time of this purchase, a hard wind blasted Barrow and it was cold in that wind. But it hit the kiosk from the other side and so the tiny structure served as a nice little windbreak for me. Furthermore, the kiosk acted a bit like a reflector oven and reflected the sun's heat back to me, so it was kind of pleasant standing there, waiting for the Americano that Qiñugan holds in her hand.

I then walked to the offices of the North Slope Borough, about 400 yards away. By the time I got there, the wind had blown the heat of the American away and it was cold.

Into the microwave it went.

Then I spread some Goobers Peanut Butter and Jelly across two pilot bread crackers, kicked back for a few minutes and enjoyed.

Very soon, a much, much, MUCH colder wind will pummel the little kiosk, a wind that will drive snow with the consistency of powdered sugar before it.

This stay in Barrow was very short. You don't see me but here I am, inside a Beechcraft with a planeload of others, all of us going to a youth and Elders conference, headed toward Nuiqsut.

And here is the view from my hotel room in Nuiqsut. It is the first hotel that I have stayed in this trip and it rocks and shakes in the wind. I hear that an Eskimo dance practice is about to happen at the community center.

I will walk over, and see what is happening there.