Flying home, part 1: I see my Shadow in Barrow; Ethel Patkotak - Master of Indian and Indigenous Law; Little Alan; familiar faces on a jet airplane

Here I am in my town parka, still in Barrow, but leaving soon, walking under a street lamp that stands not over a street but a snowmachine trail. In one hand, I hold my laptop computer, in the other, my pocket camera, the very one that I took this picture with.

I took my big, pro, DSLR cameras to Barrow just in case something came up that I needed to photograph for professional reasons, but nothing did. I never removed those cameras from the bag. They were dead weight the whole trip.

I shot only the pocket camera.

I have already made it clear that I am not a wedding photographer and I do not shoot weddings for hire. Yet, a couple of years back, I did shoot the wedding of Quuniq Donavan to Ruby Aiken. Before I left Barrow, I stopped by for a short visit. 

Quuniq said the dog could be mean so he held him back as I went to the door.

Shortly before it was time for me to leave to catch the jet south, I was sitting at a desk that I hi-jacked in the North Slope Borough Mayor's office, doing a little work on my computer, when I heard a female voice. "I have your book. I paid an arm and a leg for it and I would like you to sign it." It was Ethel Patkotak, originally of Wainwright. It was after working hours, and everybody else had left.

I wondered how this could be. "How much did you pay for it?" I asked.

"$500," she answered.

No, I protested, this could not be, that is impossible!

So she explained. What she had done was to make a membership contribution at the $500 level to Barrow's public radio station, KBRW. Mayor Itta had contributed copies of the book to be given to those who donated at the $500 level.

I was blown away.

See the sash hanging on the wall behind her?

That is what Ethel wore with her cap and gown when she graduated with an advanced Law Degree from the University of Tulsa college of Law in December of 2008. She was an honor student and graduated with as a Master of Laws in American Indian and Indigenous Law. She is also an alumni of Northern Illinois University College of Law and Stanford University in California.

She is now working for the Borough as a Special Assitant to the Mayor, under the Direction of his Chief Administrative Officer, Harold Curran, an attorney. Her focus is largely on environmental and wildlife issues.

She also loves airplanes, just like I do.

Next I went back to Roy's place, to pick up my stuff, but before I left I dropped in next door to say goodbye to Savik, Myrna and all present. That included Little Alan, who you met two posts ago, playing a computer game as he sits with his mother, Shareen.

When I got on the plane, I did not know where to sit. The seat assignment was listed on my boarding pass, all right, but was hardly legible. It looked like it read, "1c," but I knew that couldn't be right, as that was in first class and I did not have a first class ticket.

So I showed it to the Stewardess. "It looks like 1c to me," she said. So I got to ride in First Class at coach rate. All I can figure is that it must have been a weight and balance issue, that they needed more people in first class than just those who paid for the luxory.

The blonde sitting by the window reading is author Debby Edwardson, who has lived in Barrow all of her adult life. Her most recent book is the novel Blessing's Bead, published by Farrar Straus and Gireoux, 2009. I am embarrassed to say that I have not yet read it, but I will, not only because Debby wrote it, but because it is a Barrow book and it has been well-reviewed.

She also authored the illustrated children's book, Whale Snow. She is married to George Edwardson, an Iñupiaq man who has taken on the oil companies in a fight to keep them out of the home of the bowhead whale.

Sitting behind her to the right is Rachel Riley, of Anaktuvuk Pass. Rachel was in the Barrow High Gymnasium on June 12, 2008, when I took my foolish fall and shattered my shoulder. So she was a witness to that event. When I first met her over a quarter a century ago, her house had caught fire. It had burned enough to be a total loss, but not to fall down.

Tom Opie was then the Chief of the North Slope Borough Fire Department, so he flew down to Anaktuvuk Pass to train local volunteer fire fighters. Several times, they set Rachel's house back on fire, and then went in and put the flames out all over again.

I got to put on a firefighter's outfit and oxygen mask and crawl into the burning house on my belly under the smoke with them. It was only a drill, but it was tough. It increased my respect for firefighters.

The lady sitting by the window behind her is Mary Sage, who is an excellent Eskimo dancer and a good photographer. She has had several photos published in the Anchorage Daily News. Sometimes, when I have had a photo I have needed to get identified I have contacted her on Facebook and she has helped me out.

I am embarrassed that the name of the lady sitting next to slips my mind. This is happening to me more and more.

As to the idenity of the man scratching his head, I haven't the slightest idea who he is.

This is how it is in Alaska when you board a jet plane. There will be strangers on board, but there are always many familiar faces.

Alaska is the biggest small town in the USA - perhaps the world.

And the Stewardesses are friendly - especially when you unexpectedly wind up in First Class. 

Shortly after this, I got what I believe to be a pretty neat series of pictures that I took while sitting in First Class, but it is late and I need to go to bed.

I will try to make a second post after I get up, before I drive into Anchorage to pay a visit to Little Kalib, his fish, his dad and mom - who, I am happy to say, has not yet had to go to the delivery room although she continues to experience low-level contractions.

Lisa and I are thinking about taking in a movie and Melanie has invited me to eat at a new Indian Restaurant, which actually serves South India food as well as North, and I believe Rex and Charlie will be there, too. So we will dine, and as we do, we will think of Southern India, of Soundarya and Anil, Sujitha, Ganesh, Buddy, Murthy, Vasanthi, Vivek, Khena, Vijay, Vidya and all the other members of our Indian family. I hear that the food is excellent and I do not doubt it. Yet, I do not think it will be quite so good as that prepared by Vasanthi, for Melanie and me.

I do not know what Caleb will do.

As for Margie, she remains in Arizona, completely snowed under by a series of huge storms that have dumped over four feet upon her sister's house in the White Mountains. They lost all power and for a full day I could not contact her by phone, because their cell service was gone, too.

Every time I tell someone that Margie is in Arizona, they say something like, "Oh! I'll bet she's really enjoying the sun and warm weather."

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.

Joe the Water Man pours coffee at Pepe's; Emily plays Little Dribblers as she prepares for surgery; Little Alan - his grandfather watches old Barrow movies

It was a good and productive day - but I took very few pictures as I have already done all the images for this project.

I did photograph Joe the Water Man, however, as he poured coffee this morning at Pepe's North of the Border Mexican Restaurant, where I ate a breakfast of ham, eggs, hash browns and wheat toast.

Not so long ago, there was two ways to get water into your home in Barrow. You could go to Freshwater Lake, cut out some blocks of ice, put them on your sled, bring them home, lug them into your house, put them into the water barrel to melt - or you could call out for the kind of service provided by Joe the Waterman.

If you called Joe, he would show up wearing no parka, no hat, not even a sweatshirt - it did not matter what the temperature was; even when it dropped into the minus 50's, Joe wore only a t-shirt and jeans (but always a good pair of gloves).

When I would see him this way, I always worried about the outcome should he break down somewhere on a truly bitter day, lose the heat in his truck and have too great a distance to cover on foot to the next heated structure to get there before the cold got him.

Praise be! It never happened.

He drove the truck for his mother, Fran Tate, and now he waits tables and helps her run Pepe's, which has brought her world-wide fame as the owner of the farthest north Mexican Restaurant in the world. Johnny Carson even brought her on his show once, and she brought an "oosik"... wait... wait... wait...

I should tell this story with a picture of Fran, who is now well into her 70's and still running the show.

I did not see her today, but maybe I will catch her before I leave. I don't know. I might, I might not.

Here's Joe at the cash register, where he just took my money. Concerning the characters on the shelf behind him, he said the seven to the right are the cooks who work at Pepe's and the paunch-bellied blonde to the left "is my mom."

A decade or so has passed since Joe quit driving the water truck, but people still call him and ask him to bring them water.

This is ten year-old Emily Brower, and she had stopped briefly at the home of her Aapa and Aaka, Savik and Myrna Ahmaogak, to pick Myrna up and take her to Wednesday evening church services.

Emily was born with a cleft-palette and has had five corrective surgeries and will soon be going to Anchorage for another. After that, she will get braces. She has made huge progress and I believe she will continue to do so.

Emily is playing Little Dribblers basketball. "I love it," she says.

This is Emily's cousin, Little Alan Beall, who is also going to church with his Aaka Myrna and his Aunt Jo-Jo Brower, Emily's mom.

Little Alan's mother, Shareen, reports that lately, Little Alan has begun making regular visits to the home of his Aunt Jo-Jo, Uncle Arnold and cousin Emily. He enjoys the feeling of independence that he gets when he leaves his mother behind and goes off to visit without her (Jo-Jo comes and picks him up).

Lately, his hair had grown long but he did not want to let anyone cut it. So he was told that if he wanted to keep visiting his aunt and uncle, he had to let Uncle Arnold cut it.

So he did. His hair is short now. His visits continue.

I spent some time tonight watching old Barrow films from the 40's and 50's with Savik, who recently returned from Anchorage where he had kidney surgery. "Now, I have to build up my strength," he told me.

Here, he watches as a woman from the days of his youth is tossed high off the boatskin blanket at the whaling feast of Nalukatak. When I first met Savik over a quarter-of-a-century ago, he was still recovering from having broken both legs doing the blanket toss in Wainwright.

At a different point in the film, we watched as people clad in their Sunday best parkas poured out of the Utqiagvik Presbyterian Church. "There's Mom!" he said as several women exited together.

We also watched as a runner came into the village off the sea ice, carrying the flag of his whaling crew. This told the village that the crew had just landed a bowhead.

Today, the landing of a whale is still announced in this ceremonial way, but everybody knows as the news is instantly broadcast over VHF radio. Usually a youth carries the flag as he races to town on his snowmachine. 

In those days, Savik told me, the young man always ran with the flag. He did not even take a dog team. Trails can easily be ten, 15 miles long and the sea ice very rough.

Those runners were tough guys.

"Praying for you, praying for you,

someone is praying for you

Your path may be darkened

Your friends may be few

but someone is praying for you."

Savik has gone to bed, but his TV is still on - a recording of a singspiration in Wainwright, and the song from which the verse above comes from is being sung - first in Iñupiaq, then English.

Smoked salmon, Trevor Study # 5 and the flight to Barrow; Aarigaa Java (Good Coffee) with the temperature closing in on 40 below

The lady at the baggage counter informed me that the current temperature in Barrow was -33, and then I went through security where a huge man with gigantic hands patted me down. Frankly, I would have been less uncomfortable if it had been a petite woman with small hands.

I then continued on through the concourse toward Gate C-4, when I saw Janey coming in the opposite direction. We stopped to give each other hugs and then she pulled a packed of king salmon, smoked Yup'ik style, out of her bag and gave it to me.

Janey had been in Bethel, where someone had given her a bunch of salmon. When she learned that I was going to Barrow, she wanted to come, too, but she was going south.

The kid sitting by the window is Trevor, who graduated from Wasilla High with Caleb. Over the past few years, I have happened upon him a number of times at airports and in villages where he has gone to work on construction projects.

Even before I started this blog, I kept a photo journal, so I always photographed him and put him in it.

I have enough photos of Trevor to start calling him a study. So I will call this, "Trevor Study, #5" - five being a number I just picked out of the air, because I really don't know how many times I have photographed him so far.

He was on his way to Wainwright, via Barrow, to work on the ongoing water and sewer project there.

I wonder where "Trevor Study, #6" will be photographed?

These two board in Anchorage. They will debark in Fairbanks.

The flight from Anchorage to Fairbanks is only 40 minutes, so they offer you a choice of only two beverages, water or orange juice. I went for the water. I was parched, so I was glad to get that water.

We dropped the Fairbanks people off, picked up a few dozen more passengers, then headed on to Barrow. Now we are about to get off. I am sorry, but I have forgotten their names. 

I join my fellow passengers and debark in Barrow, where the temperature is still - 33. I am a little disappointed. I had hoped it would be colder.

People come from all over the world to drive Taxi's in Barrow. I have had drivers from Latvia, the Middle East, Korean, Phillipines - from all over. This fellow is from Asia and had a strong accent, but I don't know what country.

He dropped me off here, at Roy Ahmaogak's house. Roy is my host and that is his dog, Dawson, who has been around for a long time.

In the summer, Dawson jumps in the boat and goes to caribou and fish camp.

 

This morning when I got up, it was still -33, but then temperature started to drop. I took this picture at 12:30, as I walked to lunch at Osaka, eager to order Bento Box #3, which comes with three pieces of sushi, Terriyaki chicken, miso soup, rice, and a wide array of tempura vegetables and shrimp, plus a pot sticker.

About 3:30, I headed over to Aarigaa Java. "Aarigaa" is the Iñupiat word for "excellent, superb - very good."

"Hi Bill. You want your Americano?" Thelma asked when Noe drove us up to the window. Thelma does not forget, even though it has been six months since I last came to this window.

By now, the temperature was approaching -40 and still dropping.

This caused me to feel better about things.

In the evening, I took a short walk and photographed the steeple of the Utgiaqvik Presbyterian Church. I brought my big DSLR's on this trip, but I did no photography work today so I never got them out.

I stuck with the pocket camera.

No, it can't match the DSLR's in so many ways, but I love the pocket camera. It is so much fun.

I land in Barrow, sit down to make this post only to experience technical difficulties

Due to a technical difficulty that I should have foreseen and could have easily taken care of in advance, I am temporarily unable to download the photos that I took today, enroute to Barrow from Wasilla. I am fixing the problem, but it requires a download and my connection here is not so fast as at home.

I have been downloading for nearly an hour and my computer says I still have two hours and 59 minutes to go before it is complete. I can't stay up that long, so...

No post today.

Except for this one.

And this one doesn't count.

I should be back with something, even if brief, tomorrow.