Leaving Tikigag: the flight from Point Hope to Barrow

As always happens, the time soon came when I would have to leave Point Hope and it came earlier than I wanted or would have planned - were it not for the Era schedule. Era is the only air carrier that links Point Hope and Barrow and they only fly twice a week - Tuesday and Thursday; $410 for a one-way ticket. This will give you an idea how expensive it came be to travel about the Arctic Slope.

I wanted to stay at least through the high school graduation on Friday but I needed to be in Barrow no later than Monday, so I had to go Thursday.

At nighttime before I left, I saw Jesse Jr. walking home. 

He and his brothers would now get their room back.

Many decades separate us, but Jesse and his brothers all felt like friends now.

On May 5, immediately after taking the picture of the Tikigaq Harpooner Three-Peaters, I barely caught a ride to the airport in the truck of a man who runs a little on-demand-cab service. If someone needs a ride to the airport, or anywhere else reached by the villages very limited road system, they can call and he will come and pick them up.

So Krystle called for me.

The cab was full of his family.

I thought I wrote down the names of everybody, including the dog, but I can't find them. Still, if you find yourself in Point Hope and you need a cab to the airport or someplace else, just ask anyone and they will direct you to the driver and then he and his family and his dog will come and pick you up and give you a ride and then when you ask how much he will answer, "whatever you want to pay."

Be as generous as is practical for you. His fares are not like those of a city cab driver, but come only sporadically - mostly when an airplane lands.

The cab driver's daughter, the little dog and the airplane. 

Once airborne, we passed over the Lisbourne, the last bumps of the Brooks Range, which themselves are the final northward extension of the Rocky Mountains, which come to an end just before they reach Point Hope and fall into the sea. 

Pans of ice floating in new ice forming below.

We landed for a brief stop in Point Lay, to drop off one passenger, plus this four-wheeler and to pick up a couple more passengers.

And here we are, landing in Barrow.

Some new readers who have come over as a result of the piece in the Lens blog of the New York Times may be feeling a little confused right now to find me flying in someone else's airplane instead of my own.

What the Times said about me being a bush pilot is true, all right, but for some reason they chose not to mention the part about how I crashed my airplane in Mentasta and, for now, anyway, must fly in other people's airplanes.

Originally, I had intended to blog my time this trip in Barrow pretty much the same as I did Point Hope and I have every bit as much material to work with. However, I had also intended to have the whole package complete at least three weeks ago and here I am, still muddling along.

Realistically, I do not have time to do a decent edit of the Barrow pictures right now, although in time I will, for other purposes than this blog. I think what I will do is, on Monday, after returning this blog to Wasilla over the weekend, I will just put up anywhere from one to half-a-dozen images from the Barrow portion and then get back to blogging the present, but only briefly most days, as I have tons I must do this summer, so, even though in my mind I have no higher priority than developing what this blog has begun, for now, I must put the huge bulk of my time elsewhere.

Thanks for traveling with me!

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One month ago - flying to and settling into Point Hope; Yesterday in Wasilla

I again back up one month ago to begin anew my oft-delayed series of posts on my recent travels to Point Hope and Barrow - both of which are much colder towns than is Wasilla. I start on the Era flight that took me there on a one-way ticket that cost $410. Later, I would purchase another one-way ticket from Point Hope to Barrow and that would also run $410. 

Then I would need to purchase another ticket from Barrow to Anchorage on Alaska Airlines - $402.

Just imagine if you had a family of five or six and your father died two villages away and everybody needed a plane ticket to get there. That's the reality people face in Alaska, every day.

The only practical way to travel about Alaska is by plane, but it is getting harder and harder and harder to do. That's Annabelle Lane to the left, her son, Ephraim and Al Sokatis of Challenge Life Alaska.

I had originally planned to go to Anaktuvuk Pass on this trip. I needed my trip to coincide with a Challenge Life Alaska/NSB Healthy Communities event. Such an event had been planned for Anaktuvuk, but it got postponed and the time was scheduled for Point Hope.

So off I went to Point Hope.

I still hope I can get to Anaktuvuk before much more time passes by.

It was still early in the spring whaling season. I hoped that I might get out onto the ice. All my good, warm, Arctic gear had fallen apart or disappeared, so I was not properly prepared. Maybe someone would let me borrow some.

As we neared Point Hope, I could see open water, with shorefast ice on one side and young, new ice pinching in from the other.

This is Krystle Ahmaogak, granddaughter to the late Ben and Florence Ahmaogak of Wainwright, who in 1995 took me into their whaling crew, Iceberg 14 and then later adopted me as their honorary son. Krystle now lives in Point Hope with her fiance, Jesse Frankson and their three children.

When she learned I was coming, she invited me to stay with them.

We are headed to her house.

Krystle's two year-old son, Jonathan, at home in his play tent.

In the afternoon, Al and his Challenge Life Alaska partner Mike Hajdukovich met with the senior class, who were about to graduate. The students had raised money for a post graduation senior trip - to New York City. That is mostly what they talked about.

Geez, I wanted to go!

How fun it would have been to follow these kids from Point Hope around the Big Apple with my camera in hand!

Senior playing chess.

Going to New York with the graduated seniors was out of the question for me, but this is Michelle and as she was about to graduate, go on the trip, and loves photography, she was designated to be the official Point Hope Class of 2011 New York City Photographer.

Al and Mike had acquired a nice Canon 7D for the class, so she and I went walking about Point Hope so that I could give her some pointers on using the camera.

She caught on fast and she had a pretty decent eye for a picture.

I hope I get a chance to see the pictures that she took.

As I walked with Michelle, this girl came sliding by on a sled with a dog behind.

I shot many pictures of Challenge Life and have not yet taken the time to go through them. I did quickly pull this frame out, though: Challenge Life, Al Sokaitis in the school gym leading young children in a round of game playing.

This is Rex Rock, Sr., whose crew I followed whaling in 1991. Rex is also President of ASRC - the Arctic Slope Regional Corporation.

Children at play on a storage shed.

We learned that the crew of Isaac Killigvuk had struck a bowhead and were about to land it. Rex's wife, Ramona found a parka for me to wear. Mike and Al had never been to whale camp before, but now they had their chance. 

Off we went - the first stop would be the Rock whaling camp.

more to come

And this from yesterday in Wasilla:

Yesterday, as Margie and I passed by Wasilla Lake, we saw this dog in the next car, looking at us.

Inside the Metro with Carmen, study #6722: With Palmer Musician Dusty Bannon, wife Michelle and other family members and friend.

Dusty grew up on a Delta Junction homestead. When time and opportunity allows, I hope to catch him in action and to tell more of his story.

Also, let it be known that I have learned the identity of the person who, right after I returned home from this trip, bought me the coffee, pastry, paid the tip with 25 cents left over for me.

It was the Alaska Pony Girl. Thank you, Alaska Pony Girl! I think I owe you quite a few coffees now.

You can find her old blog here:

http://akponygirl.blogspot.com/

And her new blog here:

http://akponygirl.wordpress.com

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Dog flies from Nuiqsut to Barrow; Shoshana the young writer who is not to be taken for granted and other unnamed Metro studies; lady drives off the road on Lucas

Late last night, or rather early this morning as I was bringing my work day to an end, this picture showed up on the final frames that scrolled into my editor. It is a dog, and the person owned by the dog and the dog is in an airplane that is flying from Nuiqsut to Barrow.

I have not been to Nuiqsut lately but even so, I pretty much spent all of yesterday there and on nearby Cross Island - at least in my mind and on my computer screen, as I tried to figure out how to narrow down and shape up the Nuiqsut/Cross Island portion of the big project that I am working on.

The effort left me very frustrated for a couple of reasons. For one, I have 116 pages for this project and I must divide those pages up somewhere between 20 and 30 topics, involving pictures that include hundreds of people.

Yet, I could use the entire 116 pages on Nuiqsut/Cross Island - and I would still feel that I had fallen short.

And, when I work on the other topics, I feel the same about them.

So that is one frustration.

The other is that, to finish this project and the others that appear to be following close on its tail, I would do well to just sit this blog aside for a few months and put my entire focus there.

But I really don't want to set this blog aside.

So, when I came to this picture of this dog in the airplane flying from Nuiqsut to Barrow, I thought, "I will put this dog in the blog and it will be the only picture that I blog tomorrow. If I blog but one picture a day, I will at least keep the blog alive and it won't take much time at all."

So that is what I decided to do: to blog the dog today and nothing else.

When I got out of this plane back in September, I knew the name of the dog and of the person that it owns.

I no longer know their names. As I recall, they were headed south. Far south, like somewhere in the southern states.

I could be wrong, but that's how I hazily remember it.

So I have now blogged the dog. I am done blogging for the day. It didn't take long.

WAIT A MINUTE! I must include the above study!

Yesterday, after I pedaled my bike to Metro Cafe, Shoshana went to her car and brought in this story to give to me. She does this every now and then and then I take the stories home and read them and they are always good. 

This one was titled, Taken for granted.

These are the first three lines, which I asked her permission to include:

My life has always been anything but normal. It is unique to the point of questionable. I have often said that if my life were a movie, well, there is no doubt that it would be a drama. But not just a drama, it would be a drama/thriller/comedy; but mostly a drama nonetheless.

So I shot this young writer study, and having shot it, I decided I wanted to use it even though I was only going to blog the dog today. So here it is:

Study of the young writer, Shoshana, #6589: Shoshana, who is not to be taken for granted, with her story, Taken for granted.

Well, Hell. I also shot a couple of nameless studies while at Metro. I figure I might as well add them in as well. It won't take that much extra time. So, here is the first:

Metro Cafe nameless study, #99: Guy working at computer who told me his name and I was sure that this time I would remember so I did not write it down but I have forgotten.

Metro Cafe nameless study, #990: Carmen causes customer at drive-through window to laugh and she laughs, too. He told me his name and I was certain that I would remember so I did not write it down, but I have forgotten.

Metro Cafe nameless study, #1099: Actually, I did not forget his name. It is "Nike." I might have forgotten, but he kindly wrote it down on the back of his jacket before I took the picture so that I would not forget. Nike was born in Japan, wears cowboy boots and rides a black horse.

And then this morning, as I was driving home from breakfast at Mat-Su Valley Family Restaurant uphill on Lucas Street, I saw this car stuck off to the side of the road, a lady sitting behind the wheel.

Thus I was presented with a moral dilemma - to stop or continue. Once, there would have been no question. I would have stopped. But things are different now. Everybody has cell phones. If you were to look at a larger version of this image - such as you can find in slide show view, depending on the size of your monitor - you will clearly see the reflection of flares burning at the side of the road.

There were no signs that the lady was in distress. It appeared that she had set the flares, had undoubtedly called someone and was now sitting calmly behind the wheel waiting for the help she had summoned to arrive.

If I were to stop, there would be nothing I could do but ask if she was okay. I am not equipped to pull her out and with my artificial shoulder I cannot physically push anybody. She would answer, yes, she was just waiting for someone to come and pick her up.

So, knowing that is how it would play out, I drove past without stopping.

I am quite certain that I analyzed the situation correctly, but I am still a little uncomfortable about it. Now, I wish I had stopped. I don't think that it would have made one bit of difference in this world but still, I wish I had stopped.

And I have spent too much time on today's blog. I can't afford this. Yes, I will still put in a full day's work on my project, but if I am ever to get it done, from here forward I really need to put in two day's worth of work each day until it is finished - except, of course, for the week that I will spend in Arizona.

I plan not to work on it at all when I am in Arizona, May 11 - 19.

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Flying in the general direction of the sun

When my scheduled time to depart Barrow approached, I did not want to go. I wanted to stay put. There were two reasons for this - one, because in the midst of all this darkness, cold and sorrow, I had felt the warmth, the light and the love that Barrow is capable of producing. Never misunderstand me - Barrow bears more than its fair share of turmoil and hurt - as do all Native American communities that I have ever spent time in - but at its core, its base, wrapped in the heart and soul of the people who have lived here for so long and borne so much there is something strong, loving, giving and spiritual. This warmth and strength can truly manifest itself in the time of no sun, in a time when beloved ones have been lost and people have come together to nurture and support each other.

And so it was on this trip.

Two, in the darkness itself I found a degree of solace that I could not have had I been in a place where the sun rises each day. The darkness of the day itself was like a blanket of warmth and comfort draped upon me.

I am a person who likes to walk, regardless the weather or the presence of polar bears, of which daily sightings were reported in town. If I walk on the roads, people always stop to give me a ride, so, as much as I could, I stayed off the roads and walked across the lagoon - two, three, maybe even four times a day. I would walk, under that dark or dim sky, all alone and it felt good to me. Depending on the direction that I walked, the wind might bite into my face with the sting and threat of frostbite but even so it felt good to me.

And there, alone, walking under a sky free from sunlight, I would talk aloud to Soundarya. It wasn't always a pleasant conversation. When someone that you love so dearly dies at their own hand, even though you know she was suffering such bitter, painful, grief herself, it leaves you with many questions and additional hurts.

But it was always a good conversation, a loving conversation, one that I needed to have. Even though the rational side of my brain knew she was not really there, somehow, it always felt to me that in some way, she was present and that she wanted to communicate with me as badly as I wanted to communicate with her.

So I spoke out loud and then in silent pauses listened for words I could not hear, but could only feel, or imagine that I felt.

I did not wish to leave this environment, where I could walk upon the lagoon in the dim and dark and converse with Soundarya and then go sit amidst the warmth of friends who would feed me caribou, whale and fish -people not related by blood to me but who are my family, none-the-less.

Perhaps this sounds crazy and perhaps it would be best if I were to just keep all this to myself, but this is how it was and I did not want to leave Barrow.

I knew my loving family awaited me at home but still I did not want to go. 

I took this picture as I walked off the lagoon, about 8:30 or 9:00 AM, enroute to Pepe's for breakfast.

And here I am at Pepe's - taking a portrait of Joe The Water Man, son of Fran Tate, owner of Pepe's. Joe became famous in Barrow in the days when no one had running water piped into their homes and he drove a water truck, to fill their tanks and barrels.

He never wore a parka or even a jacket or sweat shirt, but always just a t-shirt, no matter what the weather. Twenty below, 30 below, - 40, - 50... there was one day that the official weather bureau thermometer is said to have broken after the mercury plunged right through the bottom of it, but a number of thermometers around town, including one that I myself laid eyes upon, registered - 63.

And there was Joe The Water Man, delivering water in his t-shirt.

On days with wind chills of - 90, - 100: there was Joe, in his t-shirt, delivering water.

Joe does not drive the water truck anymore. He keeps my coffee hot and makes certain that I get two packets of raspberry jam with my wheat toast - unless there is no wheat bread to be had, and no raspberry jam either.

This happens sometimes. 

He does not really wear this hat to work. A fellow from Anchorage who calls himself The Mad Hatter and who likes to frolic in Cuba and Thailand had come to Barrow to sell hats and had let Joe try this one on.

I thought he looked pretty good in it.

Up the street from Pepe's is a water tank, with a Nativity scene in front of it and the guiding star of the east above.

Now here I am, at just a bit after 11:00 AM, sitting in the Alaska Airlines flight that will fly me to Anchorage. What you see beyond blowing a mini-blizzard into the air is a snowplow, clearing the runway. I had checked to see if I could postpone my departure and leave on another day, but every single seat out of Barrow had been booked into January.

I did not want to miss Christmas with my family, so I decided that I had better leave as scheduled.

And here we are, lifting off, departing Barrow.

We wing our way south, toward the sun, toward the glow of dawn/twilight. I was raised to believe that the sun always rises in the east and sets in the west.

In Alaska, this is not always true. The sun can rise in the south and set in the south. It can rise in the north and set in the north.

It can rise and set not at all.

See that little stream down below? Before I crashed it, I would sometimes fly my airplane, the Running Dog, right over that stream, between those low mountains.

It looked very different down there than it does from up here, but even so, I recognize it.

You can see that although we are still a couple of hundred miles from the sight of the sun, the amount of light is on the increase.

Now we pass over the northern flanks of the Brooks Range...

...now the southern.

We reach a point where the sun still fails to shine directly upon the ground, but it does shine on a couple of clouds below us at an altitude that I can only guess at. I won't even try.

As we near the Yukon River, very near to the place where the Tanana flows into it, the sun manages to strike the ridge tops, but not the valleys.

The White Mountains.

At one point I turned around and saw that there was a sunbeam, traveling with me, right there in the plane. It was the little son of Olemaun and Thelma Rexford, owners of Aarigaa Java and Aarigaa Tours, in the arms of his dad.

Oh, I have forgotten the name of this little one!

But someone can remind me, I'm certain.

And in front of me - another sunbeam, fast asleep.

By the time we reached the Alaska Range, the sun was up, but it was overcast and we could not see it. Soon, we were descending, and then were flying low over Cook Inlet - on final to landing in Anchorage.

Margie picked me up at the airport and then we drove to Taco King for lunch. Except for Rex, who had just driven from California to Anchorage with Ama and had then caught an airplane to New York or Newark and from there on to New England, all of the Anchorage family met us there.

Kalib came with his spatula and blanket.

Next, we were driving home to Wasilla.

I am now days behind. I will try to catch up tomorrow, when I will bring you back to Wasilla with me.

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To find, to lose, to find and lose again - my India take vanishes into digital ether; I search, I plead

I shot only one frame all day yesterday and this is it - two ravens through my car window as seen through the drive-through line at Taco Bell and this is how I wound up there:

I had it my mind that when I could, I would sort through my India pictures and put together some sort of package on Soundarya to share with the family. I did not know where those pictures were and I dreaded the search to try to find them.

Behind and to the sides of my computer monitor, my desk was a clutter of hard drives, cables and wires - a couple of dozen hard drives, in fact - some of them plugged in, some of them not. I had once known where everything was on those hard drives, but over time, in the constant juggle and shuffle of digital information - moving images from this drive to that, then erasing from here, etc. etc. etc., it had become a tangle of confusion.

I came up with a system in my head to finally get on top of it, but to do so would require that I remove the harddrives from the enclosures they came in so that instead I could just insert and take them out of hard drive docks at will.

I checked with an expert and he said, yes, this would work - I could just remove all those drives from their enclosures and this would free them up for use in the docks.

So I did, and it took me a long time, because once I would figure out how to take one sort of enclosure apart, the next would be completely different and I did not have the right tools.

To simplify a complicated story, by the time I finished, I discovered that six of my harddrives were of an earlier design and would not seat into the docks, so I could no longer read them. Plus, two harddrives would seat and spin, but would not sign on to the computer. So I made four trips back and fourth to Machous were Bruce helped me reconstruct those that needed reconstructing and tried to help me bring the two that would not read back, but they had gone bad and could not be brought back.

During one of those trips back and forth to Machaus, I stopped at Taco Bell and picked up an order for myself and another for Margie, who was not feeling good.

In my office, I carefully searched every drive that could be read - and was horrified to discover that my India take, #2, when Melanie and I went to the wedding of Soundarya and Anil, could not be found.

Although I blogged the wedding, to this date I had not found the time to go through the big majority of the thousands of photos that I took afterward. I know there are some good pictures of Sandy in there, along with many other things from those times that Sandy and Anil were off by themselves and Melanie and I were traveling elsewhere with Vasanthi, Murthy, Buddy and Vijay.

All this now appeared to be lost, vanished into digital ether. If I could not somehow find them, then all I woud have from that trip would be the few low-res images, mostly from the wedding, that actually appeared on this blog.

I searched and searched and searched, venturing into the shadow areas. At one point, I thought that I had found a set, for I did find folders for those dates - but the folders were empty.

They are only photographs and their loss is a tiny and insignificant thing in comparison to her loss - but still, photographs are all that is left. I sank into despair. My body shook and my hands trembled.

I realize that what I am about to state is going to sound really corny to some, but it is how it happened, so I am going to state it. Not knowing what else to do, after a day-and-a-half of searching but not finding, I said aloud, "Sandy! I need your help! You've got to help me."

After I spoke the words, I suddenly noticed one of those tiny, portable, black plastic hard drives that you can buy at Wal-Mart, sitting beneath the computer tower on my desk. I always take two or three of these into the field with me, so that I can make duplicate copies of everything that I shoot as I move along. After I get home, I dump the images into my big harddrives and then erase these little ones, so that I can take them back out into the field the next time I go.

I picked up the little drive and plugged it into the computer.

The India take was all there.

Coincidence, my brain tells me. My heart wants to believe otherwise.

The truth is, I do not know. 

I now have the pictures, but Sandy is still gone.

Even as I type this, I am loading those pictures into my Lightroom editor. This is the very first image from that take - it is Melanie as we wait at Ted Stevens International Airport to board the first of the four planes that will fly us to Bangalore.

And here we are, Melanie and I together, reflected in the window of the underground train that shuttles passengers between various terminals at the Seattle-Tacoma International Airport.

Now we have left Chicago, enroute to Mumbai.

And here we are, in Mumbai.

In Mumbai, we saw a sleepy little girl.

Now we ride the shuttle that will take us from one Mumbai terminal to another.

Through the shuttle window. What you don't see is the heat. Despite the late hour, it was stifling hot. We are about to board the flight to Bangalore.

Now we are at Murthy and Vasanthi's in Bangalore, where I fell asleep. It was Sandy who woke me up - Soundarya Ravichandran. After I rubbed the sleep from my eyes, I took a picture of her and this is it. The next day, she would wed and would become Soundarya Anil Kumar.

I now have many pictures to sort through and edit. This barely begins it. It is going to take some time and I do not know where I am going to find that time.

I know that I promised that I would not let this blog dwell where it seems to be dwelling, but one does not just turn away from an experience such as this and suddenly find that it is over.

Still, it is my commitment to now get back on track and to blog about other things. After I have a picture package ready to share with the family, perhaps I will put up a few more up here.

I suspect that this will take me about one year.

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