Dog carries blue football to grave; boy smiles on fourwheeler; two thought they would employ sexy girls to compete with Metro, but the Metro girl won

I was pedaling my bike through the graveyard when suddenly I saw the dog, Cloe, standing in front of this grave with a football in her mouth. What a predicament! I knew that the moment I stopped, Cloe would become interested in me and would turn away from the grave but I was already alongside the grave and if I did not stop I would roll right past before I could even lift my camera and then if I turned back the dog would move. I squeezed both brakes hard and then, even before I came to a complete stop, let go of the right while still squeezing the left, lifted my camera and shot as I was almost catapulted over the handle bars. 

If I had been, and if I had broken my neck and died on the spot, they wouldn't have had to carry me far. They could have just dug a hole and dropped me in right there. 

Except I want to be cremated and to have my ashes scattered here and there, from the Arctic Slope to Hatcher Pass to Arizona to India. So that wouldn't work, after all.

I got the framing and the moment good, but, damnit! When I pedal my bike I try to keep my shutter speed at 1/400 of a second or so, but sometimes the knob rubs against my clothing and changes the shutter speed without me knowing it.

That's what happened here - the shutter speed had slipped down to 1/40th of a second and at that speed, from the seat of a bike that I am bringing to a stop while almost going over the handle bars, there is no way I am not going to get motion blur.

I capture a once-in-a-lifetime moment and it is blurred.

Oh well. From the vantage point of life, death is kind of a blur, anyway. I guess I just have to live with it. 

Sure enough, when I came to a complete stop, Cloe dropped the ball and came to me.

A bit further on, I saw these two, the little one looking back at another four-wheeler.

This is Sean, in a photo that I took inside Metro Cafe after pedaling my bike here at breakfast time because Margie had taken the car to Anchorage so she could babysit Kalib and Jobe.

Sean lives just a couple of hundred yards or so up Lucille Street from Metro and he and his buddy Justin had been planning to start a coffee shop of their own and then Carmen and Scott built Metro and beat them to the punch. Still, they thought they might do it. They could still build their stand and hire beautiful, sexy, girls to serve as baristas - baristas in bikinis, no less.

So, for awhile, they stayed away from Metro. They did not want to take a chance that they might come in and then find they actually liked the coffee and the people, because then they might be reluctant to build their shop and compete with them.

But finally, they came in to sample the competition's product. There, they beheld the beautiful-always-modestly-and-tastefully-attired-young-writer barista Shoshana and that was it. Justin fell in love.

So did Shoshana. And one coffee shop staffed by bikini-clad baristas who would be popsicles for eight months of the year fell to the wayside without ever opening.

Now Sean comes often in the mornings, often by himself, to sit, eat, drink coffee, shoot the bull and lament with Carmen. He laments because once, not so long ago, he and Justin were together most all the time, hanging out, being best friends, cooking up schemes.

Now, Justin is always with the  beautiful-always-modestly-and-tastefully-attired-young-writer barista Shoshana - who was not working this morning.

That's why I didn't do one of my famous studies on her. Instead, I did the above study:

Inside the Metro Cafe, Study #1976: Sean, who did not get to open a coffee shop staffed by sexy, bikini-clad baristas

Sean is an ex-Mormon, by the way. Now he goes to a different church. He didn't say which one, but apparently, judging from what Carmen said, he takes it pretty seriously.

From my bike, as I pedal down Gail Street, through the rain. Today is sunny. Sunny and warm. An airplane is passing overhead. Jim is walking back and forth across my desk and keyboard, blocking my view of my monitor, meowing impatiently. He wants me to take him outside. I try to take him out for awhile everyday now that summer is here. 

But it is never enough for him. He always wants more.

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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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The Tikigaq Harpooner boys "Three-Peaters" - basketball is big in Point Hope

No time to write much, so I will keep it brief. Basketball is big in Point Hope. Really big. And this year, the Tikigaq Harpooner boys won the Alaska State 2A Championship for the third year in a row. This is senior Zach Lane, one of the "Three-peaters." 

Actually, this is graduate Zach Lane. High school is behind him now.

I wanted to get a picture of all the Harpooner three-peater boys, but a few were out of the village. I had imagined photographing them with a harpoon and basketballs out on the ice, wearing white, to make it clear that the name "Harpooners" means more to them than does the average high school team name, but I was not able to pull it off.

I barely got this photo. Leonard called to tell me the boys were on their way to the high school just as I had finished packing so I could get on the plane to Barrow. So I had to hurry. Afterward, I almost missed my flight.

Left to right: Three-peaters Robert Omnik, Jacob Lane, Coach Leonard Barger, George Vincent, Solomon Frankson and Michael Tuzroyluk, Jr.

Coach Leonard Barger, on the ice, with his rifle and beluga hook. This was Leonard's first year coaching varsity, but he had been the middle school coach for a few years, where he had worked with all but the senior boys.

"It's been fun," he said. "It was a good year."

Both Rex Rock Sr. and wife Ramona have been on this blog recently. Before he was taken by surprise, nominated and elected to serve as the President of the Arctic Slope Regional Corporation, Rex had been coaching the boys and he was he who had led them to their first two state championships.

He still showed up for every game and before hand would meet with the team and then would see them through the game.

Ramona is coach of the Harpoonerettes, who had the best season in the lead but did not win the tournament. They have next year to look forward to.

This is just a typical night at the school gym.

By now, readers know two-old Jonathan Frankson, son of Jesse and Krystle. He is a strong kid and can already stuff the ball.

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Tikigaq: back out on the ice with two WEIO Olympic champions, I see my final whale for this Point Hope visit, but no polar bear

On my final full day in Point Hope this trip, I found Krystle tying braids into the hair of David Thomas. David has roots here, lives in Palmer, but comes back as often as he can to reconnect with his traditional way of life.

David is also a star at the World Eskimo-Indian Olympics, held each summer in Fairbanks. Last year, he won first place in the knuckle hop, the toe-kick, the one hand reach, the Alaska high kick, the blanket toss and also received the sportsmanship award.

Many readers probably do not know what those events are. It has been a long time since I have covered WEIO. In her comments to this blog, Annette Donaldson has been urging me to come up for WEIO and has pointed out that this summer will be the 50th anniversary of the games and so will be extra special.

If I can go to WEIO next month, I will show you those events. I have much going on this summer and a huge amount of work that I must complete and so cannot say for certain that I will be able to attend, but if it is feasible, then I will.

I will look forward to it with both excitement and dread.

Excitement to witness the games, the dances, the traditional clothing fashion displays, all the events and the protocol of strong sportsmanship, but dread at the thought of having to join in the media scrum and being forced to jostle about with all the other photographers and videographers who will be covering the event.

Even back in the 80's, when I used to attend WEIO regularly, before there was a camera in every phone, it could be a real battle and I remember some hard and sharp elbows. So I fear it will really be a media scrum this year.

Even if it is, a photographer at WEIO should be polite, calm and good tempered at all times - just like the athletes. Being polite and a good sport and even giving assistance and encouragement to those you compete against is part of WEIO tradition and protocol.

Later that afternoon, I followed Jesse Frankson Sr. and David back out to the lead. Jesse is also a WEIO star and holds the world record in the one-foot high kick (Canadian style) - 9'10". the one-hand reach - 8'10" and the kneel jump - 63 1/4 inches.

So here I was, on the ice, with two of Alaska's most famous Native Olympic stars - right here on the ice of Tikigaq - where many of the games were born.

Jesse and David had come out earlier in the day and had happened upon a huge polar bear. David had watched in amazement as Jesse and the bear had spent some time studying each other while being separated only by about 15 feet.

We hoped that we might find that bear this trip as well.

The lead had still been open when Jesse and David had been out earlier, and so they also had hoped they might catch a beluga.

When we got there, the lead was closing fast. This bowhead swam through a mix of newly freezing slush ice and ice that was traveling in on the southwest wind.

Soon, the lead was completely closed. Yes, this is the very same stretch of sea pictured in past posts with belugas and bowheads swimming through it, with an umiak traveling through wide-open seas.

That is how fast it can change.

And when it gets like this, the hunt shuts down and the hunters must wait for the water to open again.

We meandered a bit on the return to the village, hoping to find the big bear. We did not find it, but we did find this raven perched atop a peak of pressure-ridge ice.

Jesse and Krystle, preparing meal-sized portions of their share of this spring's maktak for freezing.

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Steve Oomittuk of Tikigaq - a seeker of the history and knowledge of this people; Reggie and Sam the cat

This is my friend Steve Oomittuk with the dance mask that he wore in a performance at the 2009 Kivgiq in Barrow. There are stories in the mask, including the five whales a new captain must land before he gains full status as a true captain. Most observers can probably identify the tail of the whale in the mask, but probably few other than the people of the whale could identify the bowhead head and mouth as depicted in the chin.

Steve envisioned how he wanted the mask to look, sketched it out and then gave the sketch to his brother, master sculpture Othneil Oomittuk, better known as "Art," who then carved it for him.

Point Hope is one of the oldest if not the oldest continually occupied community on the continent. After summer and fall storms, Steve will often walk the beaches along the ancient site of Ipiutak and other nearby places that predate US history and will gather up artifacts that the storm has unearthed from the eroding beach.

These are a few of items that he has found.

A fossilized ivory artifact the age of which must be at least a couple of thousand years, judging from where he found it. Steve also spends much time reading the books and works of the archeaologists and anthropologists who have studied his home, both those who came shortly after contact and those who have come in his time.

When he was young, he listened to the stories of the Elders and still seeks to learn all that he can, from whomever and whatever source he can.

It troubles him to think of his culture ever being lost - not just that of the Arctic Slope Iñupiat as a whole, but of Point Hope in particular - Tikigaq being a unique and special place, even in Alaska.

A fossilized ivory artifact that appears to be an arrow point.

Steve makes many sketches of his life and sometimes his grandchildren get hold of them and add their own touch.

Steve and his granddaughter give me a ride on his four-wheeler.

I do not find a cat in every village that I visit, but I am always glad when I do. This is Sam the cat, with Reggie Oviok. Sam migrated from California upon the back of goose, but is a Tikigaq cat now.

I might have made that part about the goose up.

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