I spent my day pretty much right here, in my office in my house in Wasilla, but sometimes I forgot and thought I was on the Arctic Slope

Except for a couple of brief breaks to eat and walk, I spent the day right where I sit right now, in front of my computer screen, my mind deep into the Arctic Slope. This is how it will be for quite some time to come - until I feel good enough about Margie's progress that I can return to the Slope. 

Due to her fall, I am way behind where I had thought I would be by now, but I am going strong, editing my take from the five weeks that I just spent up there as one step that I must take to put my special issue of Uiñiq Magazine together.

As always when I must do almost nothing but sit here and work, Jimmy, my good black cat buddy, has been right here with me, all the time, helping me along. Today, I worked on the caribou hunt take and if you are curious about all those black dots on the screen, they are mosquitoes. Here, Jimmy uses his tail to suggest how I should crop this image. I am going to reject his suggestion, however, and you will understand why once you see the picture unobstructed by his tail and butt.

The truth is, cats are not good picture editors. And you should never listen them when they suggest crops. They are lousy picture croppers.

The onscreen picture was taken at 12:02 AM, July 14, my birthday, in the light of the midnight sun.

As I was unable to find the time to edit and post very many images at all while I traveled, but would like to share the stories with my blog readers who will never see Uiñiq, I think that once the special is out, I will break it down into several posts and run it here, just for you.

I will even be able to run pictures that a lack of space will not allow me to put in the magazine.

Of course, the day did not begin at my computer, but with me lying in bed, wondering whether I should make this the fourth day in a row that I disciplined myself to eat oatmeal, or if I should get out of bed, head to Family Restaurant and have somebody cook an omelette for me as someone else waited on me.

I decided to do the undisciplined thing and go, but first I fixed oatmeal for Margie. I wanted to bring her along but she found the thought too frightening and so did I.

As I ate my omelette, I was surprised to see Jim Christensen walk in with his daughter, Jennifer. Back in the days when I published Uiñiq on a regular basis, Jim was a North Slope Borough Public Safety Officer - a cop. He also flew a Citabria, just like me.

Now he lives in Wasilla. He wanted to stay on the Slope, because he finally had all that he needed to go out and enjoy the good life that can be had there - boat, snowmachine, rifles, shotguns, fishing gear, etc., but his wife insisted they leave and come down to Wasilla's more mild climate.

Funny thing is, his wife is Iñupiat and Jim is taniq, like me.

As Jim and I visited, I was even more surprised to see another Barrow face walk through the door - Adeline Hopson, here with her grandson, Rashad. Adeline still lives in Barrow with husband Charlie, but was visiting.

I should not have been surprised, as I frequently run into North Slope people in Wasilla. And when I go to Anchorage, I almost always do.

Rashad looks at me through the Family window as I leave.

Isabelle gets ink: the crew flags of her father and "Aapa"

Shortly after the day began, I stepped into the hall of the Nuiqsut school building and there was Isabelle Ilavgak, sitting at the reception table. "I got ink," she said, "want to see it?"

It's the designs from the Wainwright whaling crew flags of her father (top) and (grandfather). She is going to add the family name, "Ahmaogak" at the bottom.*

There is more to the story, of course, but there is one place I want to go right now and that is straight to bed. 

*I have now had a little bit of sleep and will update this just a little bit. When Isabelle showed me the designs yesterday, I recognized the top flag as being that of Iceberg 14, the crew of the late Ben Ahmaogak Sr., now co-captained by Jason, Mary Ellen and Robert. I also knew that as the brother of Isabelle's father, Fred, whose flag is the whale below, Ben would technically be Isabelle's uncle, but I was a little confused because she described the Iceberg 14 flag as being that of her "Aapa," or grandfather.

When I made this post last night, I was so exhausted I could not even think.

But sometime in the night, as I fell in and out of sleep, I remembered hearing Isabelle call Ben "Aapa" and his wife Florence, "Aaka," or grandmother.

And, in a comment below, Isabelle's cousin, Maak, who is also my Iñupiaq sister by informal adoption, made it all clear.

Thank you, Maak.

No matter how much I learn, I always know just a little bit. Always, I have much more to learn.

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. 

At 11, he fought off a polar bear and saved a man from drowning beneath the ice

While taking a short walk late at night through a nice, pleasant, rain in Point Hope, where the weather had suddenly turned warm, I happened upon these three: Eva Nashookpuk, Shaun Stone and Aaron Milligrock.

Off the top of my head, I have no stories about Eva and Shaun, but I do about Aaron, who I first met at Kivgiq in Barrow last February, where he danced with style and power.

One night, I shared a dinner table with he and his mom and a few others from Point Hope and learned about some heroics he pulled off at 11 years of age (he is 12 now).

One happened when he was headed back out to whaling camp on the spring ice and came upon a hole where a 21-year old whaler had gone through into the frigid water. He could not get out, and the cold water was quickly taking him down.

Small and slight though he was, 11 year old Aaron jumped off his snowmachine, put himself prone upon the ice, reached out, took hold of the man's arms and found the strength to drag this man who was much bigger than him out of the water.

That same spring, a polar bear came nosing into his tent and he jabbed it in the nose with a fork. It must have been a big cooking fork, because when he demonstrated how he had done it, he moved his arms in a thrusting motion from over his shoulder, forward, almost like he was throwing a harpoon.

Thank goodness... the polar bear backed away, whining as it went.

On the same walk, I also happened upon Vanessa Driggs walking with three of her children. A fourth, an infant, is on her back under her jacket. She hurt her ankle jumping off of a four-wheeler. It is not a bad injury.

Someday, I must photograph her with her twin brother. When I do, then you will understand why I must.

Midnight: one image from today's (and yesterday's) caribou hunt

We headed out onto the tundra about noon yesterday and arrived back in Barrow at close to 6:00 AM this morning with eight caribou - better known as tuttut around here. I type these words at 7:48 AM and at noon I must be at the airport to catch a plane to Point Hope.

I took many pictures and I think I got some good ones, but it will not surprise you to learn that not only have I not had time to examine my take, but it is still downloading with the majority of it left to go.

So this too falls into the queue of backlogged material yet to be posted.

Who knows if I will ever post it? We will see.

The hunters above are Ernest Nageak, closest to the camera, and Kuunniaq. They are studying a large herd of caribou to see how many big bulls they can spot.

Ernest is the son of Roy Nageak, who headed up this hunt. Pamiuq, another of Roy's boys, also came, as did Frank, his 10 year-old grandson. I was most impressed with Frank and if I ever do blog this, I think you will be, too.

He dropped the first caribou of the day with a single bullet from a .223.

It was a long day, and tough in some ways, because, as you can see, the mosquitoes were thick and relentless, but Frank hung it without complaint.

The picture was taken shortly after midnight.

My face and head are sunburned even worse than they go in India, because even though India is hot, the sun comes up and then goes down again pretty quick - even in late spring, nearing the solstice, not much more than 12 hours.

Whereas this time of year, the Arctic sun does not set.

And there is shade in India. There is no shade on the Arctic Slope.