The Barrow Whalers travel 1,023 miles to Nikiski, where they lose badly in the first half, but fight back hard through the second

I met the Barrow Whalers at the Wal-Mart near the Dimond Center in Anchorage at about 8:30 PM. I had planned to meet them shortly after 6:00 PM, the time that their Era Aviation flight from Barrow had been scheduled to land at Ted Stevens International Airport, but that flight was over two hours late.

As the coaches bought a good supply of water and Gatorade for the next day's game, the Whalers ate Subway sandwiches on the hood of one of the three vans that had been rented to take them to Nikiski - over three hours away.

The Whalers hit the road a minute or two before I did. My electronic gas gauge showed that I only had 150 miles to go before empty, so I would have to stop and gas up. I wondered if I might possibly catch up to them before they reached Nikiski.

Unless they stopped somewhere, it seemed unlikely. Coach Voss told me that the plan was to drive straight through - as even that would not put them there until after midnight. Then they would need to haul their gear into the school, down through the hallways and up the stairs to the wrestling room and there establish their beds.

Their Nikiski hosts planned to bring breakfast to them at 8:00 AM. The game would be at 11:00.

When I pulled into the Girdwood Tesoro station, 50 miles out of Anchorage proper but still with the municipal boundaries, I found that they had stopped there, too.

They left even before I could turn on the unleaded regular pump. I spent at least ten minutes gassing up and buying a few goodies. Still, there were hills to climb ahead, I figured they would not be going that fast and thought I would catch them.

After I got going, I discovered much of the route to be covered with heavy fog. 

Traffic was light. I passed a total of four or five slow vehicles and no one passed me, but I did not catch the Whalers. As I neared Kenai, Sally Go Round the Roses came on to station 91.5. I had not heard this song at least for years and think more likely for decades.

Maybe two decades, possibly even three.

When I heard it, in my mind I instantly saw the streets, buildings, vegetation, houses, hill, bay and ocean of Eureka, California, as these things had looked in 1963, when I was 13 and the song popular.

I had always liked it, been enchanted by it - and this was as I heard it on my transistor radio of the time, and on our tiny AM car radio.

Now, it was being played in stereo on our modern, much superior radio and I was totally entranced. Mesmerized. I did not want it to end, but to play and play.

This morning, I downloaded it off iTunes. I have probably listened to it 20 times today, as well as other versions by Grace Slick and the Great Society,  Question Mark and the Mysterians and Pentangle and some other versions as well. I enjoyed them all - but none of the other three could compare to the original by the Jaynetts.

When I reached the Nikiski High School, I expected to find the vans there, but I did not. I found only a surprisingly large high school enshrouded in fog so thick that it could not be seen from across the parking lot.

About 20 minutes later, at approximately 12:30 AM, the vans rolled in. They had pulled over at a rest stop along the way but, given the density of the fog, I had not seen them.

I had felt so tired as I drove through Kenai that I briefly thought about abandoning my plan to stay with the team in the school and go for comfort in a hotel, but decided to stick to it. I brought an inflatable bed and pump that Jacob and Lavina had lent me. 

After I had picked these and things and Margie up at Jacob and Lavina's on Thursday, I drove to Melanie's house to drop off a table that she had found in Wasilla on Craigslist. Melanie, Rex and Charlie had removed the table from the car and one of them had set the pump down in the driveway, meaning to pick it up afterward, but nobody thought about it again until I drove over it while backing out the driveway.

It did not appear to be damaged, but when I tried to inflate the mattress the pump would not work. So I borrowed another, but there were players waiting behind me. I felt guilty, because they needed their sleep to prepare for the game, so I stopped inflating the mattress a bit before I should have.

The bed sagged in the middle. This impacted the quality of my sleep.

I got out of bed somewhere between 7:00 and 7:30 and found coaches Igou and Battle going over plays the whalers would use this day.

Coach Battle briefs the offense.

Just before it was time to go on the field, I found quarterback Eddie Benson adjusting the foam protection that Coach Houston had helped him place over the cast that protected his broken arm.

Football is a team sport, yet, before each game, a player must go alone into his own mind, into his own psyche and soul to prepare for the battle ahead.

The fog had begun to ease a bit, but was still heavy. The grass was wet and cold. Darius Samuelu prepared to don his helmet and join his teammates.

As the Whalers warmed up and stretched their muscles, Roger Ferguson passed in front of my camera.

Then, the older, more experienced, bigger, heavier, deeper Nikiski Bull Dogs broke through the fog and charged onto the field.

Team captains Lawrence Kaleak, Nathaniel Samuelu and Eddie Benson took the field for the coin toss. The Bulldogs won. They chose to receive.

One could look at images such as this along with the final score of 47 - 7 and conclude that the Bulldogs trounced the Whalers.

No doubt about it, the whalers took some hard blows - including one to the shoulder of Jacob Harris.

Yet, after falling behind 40-0 by the end of the first half, they listened when the coaches told them to look at the second half as a new game, reach into their souls for their inner strength and go out determined to fight and win that two quarter game.

They regrouped and hit hard.

Despite the bleak score, they did not give up and made many excellent plays, including this one when Benson hit James Snow with a fifteen yard pass. 

Snow snatched the pass...

...he turned...

...and charged forward for a gain of I don't know how much, as I have not seen the stats, but he did gain a first down.

Blood was drawn on the face of Ulu Tuai.

A bit later, a swath of skin was torn from his arm, just above the elbow. As coaches Battle and Houston patched him up, Tuai urged them to hurry, as he wanted to get back into the game.

Even before Houston could finish binding his wound, Uluakiaho wanted to get back on the field.

They were down by 40 points, but... hey! Do the Whalers look like a football team? They do to me.

The whalers got on the board when Jones hit Jhonel Moreno in the endzone for six. Jones then kicked the extra point. 

I am proud to say that although the Whalers did not win, they fought through every minute of the game and they tied the second half, 7-7. Victor Unutoa carries the ball.

Afterward, as they always do, they gathered for a prayer.

And they raised their helmets, just like they did last week, when they won.

As I walked from the field back to the school to gather my stuff together, I saw two dogs, riding through the parking lot in the back seat of car.

Soon, I was on the road and in Kenai I saw these two young women in a convertible that must have a permanent Alaska license plate by October 13.

These days, there is no way to know for sure, but I suspect that even before that date they will cease to drive with the top down.

That van in front of me? That's the final vehicle of the caravan of Whalers, driving back to Anchorage where they will overnight and leave early in the morning back to Barrow.

What a beautiful drive it was!

I should note that during the game, the emcee announced that the Barrow whalers had traveled 1028 miles as the crow flies to play this game.

Next week, they play Delta and I sorely want to go, but I have a commitment in Barrow and will not be able to.

They must win, because although I have concluded that I cannot finish this essay to the depth that I want this season and will have to find the way to continue it through the next year or two, I want to photograph them again this season.

If they win next week, they will go on to the playoffs, October 2 in Kenai. I talked to them. They do plan to win. I plan to be in Kenai.

I can't quite explain it, as I do not know any of these young men that well, but I find that there is something that I like about them.

I missed Adrian Panigeo - number 15. He was out on crutches - for the rest of the season. I have never seen a tougher high school player with any more heart than Panigeo, so I hope to photograph him some more in in the future as well.

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Russia, as seen from Alaska: Ten views, including one through a living room window and another from a front porch

While roaming my computer, I came upon a shoot that I did in Little Diomede in late March, 2005. As one resident of my hometown managed to turn the very real truth that you can see Russia from Alaska into a national joke, I decided to run this series of photos that I took in Alaska, with Russia in the background.

View #1: Flying into Little Diomede, Alaska, from Nome. The smaller island in front is Little Diomede. The larger island in the back is Big Diomede, Russia.

View #2: Russia through the wind screen. The pilot banks hard to avoid flying into Russian airspace, as that would upset the Russians.

View #3: Russia as seen from the Iñupiat village of Little Diomede, where a polar bear skin hangs to dry.

View #4: Russia, as seen from a front porch in Little Diomede.

View #5: Russia, behind a sled dog tethered to Alaska.

View # 6: Orville Ahkinga Sr. looks out his Little Diomede window toward Russia.

You can't even see Russia in this picture, but where are these kids headed to? Could it be Russia? They would only have to travel about two-and-a-half miles.

View #7: The kids head off to Russia. No! I jokes! The Russians don't allow that. When you are on Little Diomede, you can look at Russia, but not touch Russia. There are military men stationed there to make certain that you don't and they will detain you if you try.

The kids are going to catch a plane that will take them to a basketball tournament down in Gambell on St. Lawrence Island - another Alaskan community from which I have photographed mountains that stand in Russia. In Gambell, the day must be very clear to see those Russian mountains, as they are 40 miles away.

In 1994, I flew to Russia in a North Slope Borough helicopter. Our route was Barrow-Nome-Gambell-Providenyia. After that, although our pilot had cleared us to fly to other places, Russian officials changed their minds and made us leave the helicopter on the ground. So we flew around in a Russian helicopter that was, essentially, a big, flying, bus.

Perhaps, one day, I will recount that trip here. It was amazing and caused me to fall in love with Russia, or at least the far east tip of the country. Everywhere I go, I seem to fall in love with the place, but I always come back to my first love - Alaska.

By the way, there is no permanent airstrip at Little Diomede, which rises sharply from the water. This is the ice of the Bering Strait.

The weather here often gets so bad that planes do not come in for days, even weeks. After the ice starts to seriously melt, the planes will not come at all.

In the summer time, the weather and waters are treacherous, making it very risky to try to come in with a float plane. There is sporadic helicopter service, weather permitting.

View #8: Returning home from the maternity ward of the Alaska Native Medical Center in Anchorage, Jamie Ahkinga places a hand over little Marcus Kobe Okpealuk, the baby that she now keeps sheltered under her Parka. While in Anchorage she also went shopping at Wal-Mart with the man who holds her hand, Lane Okpealuk, father of Marcus.

View #9: Standing on the Bering Strait, waiting to fly to Nome.

View #10: Freight is taken off the plane and luggage loaded on, with Russia looming in the background.

Just minutes ago, she stood on the Bering Strait with Russia standing behind her. My time at Little Diomede was much too short and I wanted to go back. I imagined that the next winter or spring I might come and hang out for awhile, but it didn't work out that way. Now, where is that wealthy philanthropist that is going to drop half-a-mil or so on me so that I can do this blog right? So that I can hop off to places like Little Diomede at will? In my own airplane?

FOR HELL'S SAKE! PHILANTHROPIST! Patron! WHERE ARE YOU??????

A boy with a huge talent was buried in Barrow today

Actually, he was no longer a boy, but a young man - a husband and father - but in my memory he is a boy, out on the snow-blown tundra, making people laugh, because that is how I knew him. The boy that I speak of is Perry Nageak and that is him sitting closest to the camera, with the uncovered head. 

The month was May, the year, 1997, and he was out at spring goose camp with the family of his uncle, Roy Nageak, the man to the right. In between them is Roy's son, Ernest, then nine-years old. Ernest had just shot the two geese - his first ever. I managed to shoot a nice little sequence of pictures that told the story.

As for Perry, what I remember best about him is how quick-witted and funny he was. What a story-teller!

I thought maybe someday, I'd see him on TV, making people laugh the world over.

Here he is, telling a hunting story, late at night in the tent - probably about 1 or 2 AM. Remember, this is the Arctic, and by May the time of the midnight sun has arrived.

You can see how amused he kept all the other young people in camp - his cousins and siblings.

Although you cannot see them clearly in this picture, there are adults in the tent as well. They laugh, too.

Since I learned of his death the other day, I have been trying to recall the specific stories that he told, but after 12 years, they elude me. I only remember how funny they were.

But wait... one comes back, even as I sit here and type.

It takes place on a caribou hunt. A boy shoots a caribou. Maybe the boy was Perry; maybe it was a brother, or a cousin. The bullet does not strike the caribou directly, but instead slams into the base of its antlers. The antlers fall off and then the caribou drops dead onto the tundra.

"Oh no!" Perry explains the story from the point of view of the caribou. "My antlers! My antlers! My beautiful antlers! I just can't live without my antlers!"

To Ben, Bonnie and all those who loved Perry, my deepest condolences. And thank you for sharing your boy with me for that one beautiful, wonderful, experience, back in May of 1997.

My prayers are with you too, for whatever the prayers of a man of doubtful faith are worth.

Speaking of which... that brings me back to today. I had to drive to town, to drop the Kivgiq prints off at the North Slope Borough's liason office in Anchorage. Afterwards, I drove to Wal-Mart to pick up a couple of things that I needed.

I returned to the car, and as I took my seat, I saw these two young Mormon missionaries talking to this man. Maybe they were trying to convert him. Maybe he was a fellow Mormon, and they were just having a friendly discussion.

I started the car and this brought KSKA, the Anchorage Public Radio station, into my speakers. The first sentence that I heard come was this, "I am a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints..."

The show was talk of the nation and the topic was a scene from "Big Love," the HBO series about a polygamist family belonging to a sect that had broken away from the Mormon Church. The most recent segment featured a scene that depicted an endowment ceremony in a Mormon temple. 

The caller was hurt and offended - as were all the Mormon callers who phoned in. Mormons are instructed that, once they step outside of the temple, they must never talk about the ordinances that take place within - not even among themselves.

The other point of view was that to tell the story the artist wanted to tell, it was necessary.

I could not only understand both points of view, but could empathize and justify each.

If my mother was still alive, I knew how she would have reacted. With horror. With utter and absolute horror. She would have saw it as a sign that the prophesied future times of the return of the persecution that our Mormon ancestors had borne was coming right back at us, that it was right around the corner.

And just beyond that - Armageddon, the cleansing of the world and the Second Coming of Christ.

I apologize for getting a little carried away here. Except for funerals of loved ones, I have not been inside a Mormon chapel for 25 years, but when one grows up as I did, this kind of thing never leaves you.

I thought about stopping, about getting the missionaries to pose for me, but I did not wish to interrupt their conversation and so just shot this image through the open window as I drove slowly past them.

I picked Melanie up at her place of work and then drove her to Ichiban's for lunch. It was Lisa who chose Ichiban's. She met us there, as did Charlie. Melanie and Charlie are going to ride the ferry to Cordova this weekend, just for fun.

They asked me for suggestions about what to do.

I've hung around Cordova a bit, so I gave them a few.

They can go down to the fishing boat docks, and watch sea otters play; they can go up the hill to the ski run and ski. They can walk all around, and drive here and there; visit with eagles.

Lisa and me. Lisa had asked me for a picture of Juniper, her cat. So I made a print last night and gave it to her today. She was most pleased about the timing, as some of her coworkers had been deriding cats, describing them as worthless, questioning why she would ever have a cat in the first place.

The answer was right there, in the picture, but such coworkers are unlikely to see it, even when they look straight at it.

Some of us ordered sushi.

When I arrived back home in Wasilla, I found Margie and Lavina watching what at first looked like an teen-exploitation flick, as the scene on screen depicted four high school cheerleaders running amok in a sex-toy shop. 

"What's this?" I asked. 

"Texas Cheerleader Massacre," Lavina answered.

I figured they must really be bored. I flopped down on the couch to see when the carnage would begin, determined to stay but minutes and then come out here and work on something.

But Lavina got the title wrong. 

It was, "Texas Cheerleader Scandal."

There was no carnage - just a rather oddly compelling story about a cheerleading coach trying to discipline some wild girls who were messing up the squad and intimidating all the other adults.

I watched it to the very end.

As he always does, Jimmy, who is here with me now even as I type, joined me and stayed right with me.

An evening sunbeam came through the window.

Kalib found it.

Our house; a few other images from today and nothing more

In case you are curious, this is our house - the place where I live and work, and keep this blog. We moved into this house 27 years ago this month. It was well below zero when we moved in and we had to keep the doors open to haul in our stuff, so the house got very cold.

So did our fingers.

I then sawed and split some of the birch that had been cleared to build the house and made a hot fire in the woodstove.

The heat felt very good as it warmed us from the outside.

Margie made some hot chocolate, which warmed us from the inside. 

Those were good days.

Really, really, good days.

We didn't know how good they were until they became the past.

This is my neighbor, from two houses down. I don't know his name. In February of 2001, I lost my black cat, Little Guy, who eight years earlier had passed from his mother's womb straight into my hands. On a day with about three times the snowfall you see here, he stepped out onto the back porch and I never saw him again.

I searched for him, long and hard. I knocked on every door. I asked everyone I saw if they had seen a black cat. I could hardly bear the loss. 

For weeks afterward, every time this neighbor would see me, he would always ask about that cat.

So I think highly of him, even though I don't know his name.

This is another view of my house, taken from down the street as I finished my walk. I usually come home through the marsh, but I did not feel like it. Margie does not like it when I track snow into the house and I did not want to be scolded, however gently she scolds, and so I came down the road instead of through the marsh.

I always take my shoes off at the door, but the snow would have stuck on my Levis, even up to my knees.

I did not want either to be scolded or to take my pants off at the door, so I came down the road.

I did not build that tall fence.

My neighbor did. He hates cats. He does not like to look at my wrecked airplane, so he built the fence. He often wakes me by revving up the engine to his Harley Davidson in the morning. He doesn't necessarily drive it anywhere, he just sits there and revs up the engine, again and again, so that it does not lock up on him.

We don't talk much. He works for the Alaska Marine Highway and is gone more than he is home.

A kid, apparently on his way home from school, but maybe he is going someplace else. I don't know.

It was warm today, teens and then 20's for awhile, but the wind blew.

I saw this boy, off to the side of Lucille Street, as I was coming home from Wal-Mart. Margie doesn't work there, anymore. She can't, because of her accident. I don't care. I want her to work for me. I work in constant chaos, even when all is calm around me. 

Maybe she can reduce the chaos and increase our income more than she lost by losing her job at Wal-Mart.

I don't know why the boy was down in the snow like that. Maybe he was skiing and fell down. That looks like a ski pole.

I didn't stop to ask. I just snapped and kept going.

I had things to do.

Martigny. She is never allowed to go outside. She doesn't even want to go outside.

Royce - 15 years old or so and the last of the indoor-outdoor cats. I hated to do it, but after Little Guy I never let a new cat go outside unchaperoned - and then only Jim. 

Now that he is growing old, Royce doesn't go outside much anymore and never for very long.

When its cold, he doesn't go out at all. He didn't used to care about the cold. He was born with a good cold-weather coat. Now, he doesn't like the cold.

And there you have it - nothing of consequence, just a few images from today, right here, in Wasilla, Alaska.

The days now begin to lengthen; after the colonoscopy

Oh, hell - I stated that this blog is on hold until after the New Year, but I had a colonoscopy today and I got starved, medicated, dazed, and miserable and then stuffed and miserable. I lack the energy to work on my big project. So I post two photos here.

It won't hurt anything, even if no one comes back to check.

I took this picture yesterday, Winter Solstice, mid-afternoon, somewhere between 3 & 4, going down the ramp to Wal-Mart. Now the days begin to lengthen.

Hallejuah!

Although, if my tentative travel plans hold up, for me personally, the days will yet get much shorter; in fact, daytime will soon disappear altogether, save for the hint of dawn-dusk at the hour of true noon. 

But right here in Wasilla, the short, dim, day has now begun to lengthen.

This is my physician, Dr. Natalie Beyeler, explaining what she found during the colonoscopy and the EGD. On the EGD, they run a tube with a camera attached down through your throat, Esophagus and stomach. You know where the tube goes on the colonoscopy.

Once again, I am faced with lifestyle changes. If it can be consumed and it is something that I enjoy, then I need to cut back or even eliminate it. If its bland and doesn't bring me much pleasure, then I can eat or drink all I want. No problem.

Dr. Beyeler is an excellent physician and I would recommend her to anyone.