Some snowy scenes around the village.

Games of the North, PBS     Here's a really good video to watch.  It's about the native olympics that are held every year.  The games are very different from our olympic games.  This year Kotlik will host the district Native Youth Olympic games for school age kids.  We won't have all of the games seen on  the video but I am looking forward to this event.

 These sticks mark the spots where people have ice holes they use for fishing.  These holes are about 40 feet apart and they are used for munucking (I don't know the actual spelling).  They lower a net into one of the holes then tie the other end of the net off at the other hole so it is like a net hanging from a ceiling under water. 

 When they pull the net up hopefully there will be some fish in it.  By the way, the people here have a hard time making the "sh" sound so when they say 'fish' it comes out sounding like 'fisss' which rhymes with miss.

This is just a dirty ice hole.

At noon on the day before the winter solstice this was the brightest it got all day.  In a span of a few hours you can see a sunrise and sunset.  On a cold, clear day like today it is amazing.

It was a cold day in Kotlik.

This is the village cemetery.

An awesome morning

3 November, 2014

     Being outside in the freezing predawn sometimes has its' rewards.  This morning's was better than most.  It was so cold the first draw of breath made the inside of my nose sting. The sky was as clear as it ever has been and putting on an amazing show.  On the western horizon a fat, orange moon was hanging low, lighting a reflective path across the icy Yukon.  To the south the star Serius was sparkling brightly in  red, blue, and white, as if being the brightest star in the sky wasn't enough.  But the greatest show was the Aurora Borealis spanning the heavens from horizon to horizon.  Long ribbons of what looked like sirrus clouds were slowly moving back and forth, glowing a soft whitish gray.  Suddenly a ribbon-cloud would flash on and disapear and then the next one and then the next in rapid succession.  It was like a silent lightning show of a soft diffuse light.  A marvelous glowing exhibition hundreds of miles long and miles high played out for those of us brave enough to endure the frigid morning. Very often a clear sky at 5 a.m. turns overcast by 7 when I leave for work.  It's still pitch dark but those late risers rarely get to see the amazing wonders we early ones enjoy.

     The sky was not the only excitement for Hobart and I.  The village fox was out early.  There is a fox that has been roaming the town for the last few weeks.  He's been chased by kids and adults, on foot and four-wheeler and even been shot at but he keeps coming around.  Hobart and I have seen him on several mornings.  A week ago he spotted us on the boardwalk and curiously followed us during our walk, sometimes coming close enough for me to get a good picture if I had my camera.  This morning he followed us again even being so bold as to dart within ten yards of Hobart then scamper away playfully trying to get Hobart to take chase.  He's a beautiful animal with a full, fluffy tail tufted white on the end.  He followed us most of our walk until we crossed in front of the church then he raced away to some other part of town. 

Mornings like this make me glad I came here.

Skating on Yukon Ice

     With a pair of skates wrapped in a towel I step out of the front door into a frosty, bone-chilling cold.  There's a porch light outside my house but I hardly needed its light because the moon reflecting on fresh snow makes it nearly day.  I tuck the bundle under one arm and climb down a snow-covered bank to the frozen river's edge.  The ice here is jagged sheets sticking up in random fashion so the footing is unsteady and sharp corners poke at my shins.  I find a steady chunk of ice to sit on and a place the skates between my feet. 

     Moonlight shines on the blades of my scarred, well-worn Bauer 95 hockey skates.  I bought them in Colorado Springs the day I decided I was going to learn how to play hockey. I was 27 then.  I couldn't have imagined that these same skates would be propelling me down the Yukon river over twenty years later. 

     I take the heavy winter boots off and force my feet into the skates and lace them on tight.  I'm a little unsteady on my feet at first.  It's been a while since my last skate.   Pushing off I start to glide.  The ice on the river's edge is rough and the snow tends to pile up a bit.  Once I get to the center of the channel it's amazingly smooth, better than I thought it would be.  I take long purposeful strokes where it's flat and short choppy steps to skirt around the rough spots.

      Near a bend up ahead are some guys ice fishing.  One is a student of mine with his dad.  They are surprised to see someone on skates.  The father says when he was young, kids were always skating on the river but not so much now.  The fish aren't biting tonight so they figure they will only stay out in the cold for another hour. 

     I push off and head for the main channel to the south.  Increasing my stride I really pick up speed.  Dodging jagged edges that could trip me up I pick my way through the smooth stretches.  A few weeks ago I was confined by mud and water to a narrow strip of boardwalk.  Winter has given me a new freedom to go anywhere I want.  Now my mind cannot even grasp the vastness.  I have the entire Yukon in front of me.

The local Native Store is run by the Native Corporation.  There are two stores here in the village, this one and the Alaska Company store.  Between the two of them we can get most anything we need.

The Yukon delta is a beautiful place in a strange way.  As you fly over you see river channels winding in seemingly haphazard directions.  They twist and turn all over the place. Sometimes they almost look like they are about to cross over themselves but then turn about and head off in another direction.  These are textbook meanders and oxbows.

From the air it looks like someone sprayed popcorn ceiling on the surface of the moon.

I took a walk yesterday and photographed this panorama

To the southeast the Nulato hills are coated with snow.  These hills run from their southern terminus at the Yukon river north across the Eastern end of Norton Sound.  They are the only physiographic relief visible around Kotlik.

Hobart tracks and Raven tracks

Cory caught a pike in his trap.

I don't mind the cold.

Infrastructure inspired by the works of M. C. Escher

The Sun at noon was trying to pierce a heavy cloud layer.  Never quite made it.

With the freeze-up imminent seal hunting has been a priority around the delta.  Family's need to get their seal or seals before they have to pull their boats out of the river for the winter.  The Yukon is icing up fast and by Halloween it may be solid enough to cross on foot.  Families who live on the opposite side from the school will send their kids across on foot instead of by boat.  Village Police Officers will string a rope across the river at a designated crossing point to act as a hand rail.  This gives some element of safety.

Hobart Mornings

August 20, 2014

                  Hobart needs to go out every morning and do his business, you know what I mean.  And I'm glad.  On workday mornings I wake him up to go around 5:30 but on the other days he wakes me up with a cold nose to my face.  I like to walk around the village really early.  It used to be light out at that time but now it's dark and cold.  When we step out of the front door Hobart pauses on the porch for a moment like he's taking in all the smells that have accumulated overnight. I like to study the sky for a minute to see what constellations I can see as I pull my coat collar up a little higher to keep out the cold and damp.  He then races down the steps tugging me after him.  We cross a little grassy patch, then step over an old sewer pipe on the wooden path up to the main boardwalk. 

                  On the boardwalk we turn left towards the AC store and the new airfield, toward what I like to call "downtown".  Hobart's first stop is a tuft of grass just off the walkway where he leaves a liquid message for the dog who lives in the house there.  On cold mornings the black furry dog won't come out, preferring to stay curled upon himself in his house.  On the warmer days past he barked at us and tugged on his chain. 

                  Our next stop is on the right side about 60 feet down from furry black dog by a small shack that serves as the village washeteria.  It's dark inside at this time of morning.  In fact all the municipal buildings are dark including the Village Tribal office we pass next on our right.  I used to be able to see the first light of morning straight ahead of me as we walked this way, now it will stay cold and dark until well after the school day starts. 

                  At the third house on the left we have to make a choice, either continue on another 200 yards to where the boardwalk makes a hard left, or turn back now and head towards the school.  It will depend on the two dogs who live at this house and whether or not they come out barking their heads off.  This morning they stay curled up, tucked into their own fur and leave us alone, so Hobart and I keep going.  Passing the side ramp that leads to the post office Hobart keeps his nose up as if he's sucking every scent out of the cold morning air. 

                  We get to a place where a street lamp shines a yellow circle on a 90 degree left turn of the boardwalk.  Hobart comes to a stop and waits for me to say, "Let's go back." like I always do.  Hobart pauses for a few more moments as if it's really his decision and he will let me turn us around.  I like it when he thinks he's in charge, especially on our morning walks where it's just me and him and the rest of the world is still asleep.  I remind myself this walk is really his and he's taking me along for company.  I'm glad to be in his company.  He will have to spend the rest of the day in the house waiting for me to come home from work.  He's a wild animal at heart and he needs this time.  It's the least I can do to let him have his way, to take all the new scents, to give him time to be outside where he is at home.  If I could just let him run.

                  A couple quick leaps and he is tugging me back in the direction we came from.  Past the post office, the laundry and the black dog house.  A left turn now on a branch of the main boardwalk brings us past the utility building where 4 diesel generators keep the town powered up.  Hobart has to take a quick look around the electrical equipment they store outside before he pulls me over towards the enormous raised tank that hold the village water supply.  Once, a few days back, Hobart discovered a puppy under the tank so he has to check that out every day now.  He's good at remembering where he saw stuff. 

                  He scrambles out from under the tank and we dodge a few inky, black, puddles on our way to the jungle gym next to the school.  A quick sniff and we're off again along the northeast wall of the school where some high school kids broke one of the two floodlights with a rock a few weeks ago.  We're on gravel now by a lot where the outside basketball court used to be before the flood washed it away.  It was a thick wooden platform with a basket on each end.  The floodwaters and ice flow picked it up and laid it to rest atop the sewer line in back of the school.

                  Around the corner we step back onto a wooden walkway that is raised 3 feet above the water and mud.  Hobart has fallen off of this one before when he was distracted by ravens perched on top of the school and not watching his step.  This is one of the darkest parts of our walk and I get a good look at the southern and western sky.  Orion is bright in the cool, clear air this morning.  Not that I don't like Orion, he has kept me company on some of the longest nights of my life, but I will be waiting to see the bright star Vega in the constellation Lyra.  Lyra signals that spring is here and this school year is nearly done. 

                  Along the southwest wall of the school and I have to slow Hobart down because I have to cautiously climb down from the boards I'm on to the next section of walkway which lost its supports in the flood last year and dropped to ground level.  Hobart leads me to the small, red, painted Assembly of God church building where he carefully sniffs the stilts and leaves replies to other dog's messages. 

                  A few more zigs and zags along rickety slanted boadwalks and we're back at our front step.  With the river on our right Hobart wants to stay out longer.  I wouldn't mind going for another circuit and sometimes on the weekend we do but this morning I have to get ready for the chaos of another day at school. 

Cory and Jeremiah took me out to check their fish traps.  The small lakes are solid enough to walk o now.

Kotlik, Alaska 99620

                  If you have ever been to the Florida Everglades you are familiar with a view of swamp grass from horizon to horizon. Kotlik looks like it was set down next to a river in the middle of that vast expanse of swamp.  There is no solid ground here.  The only thing close to dry land is a wet spongy mat of vegetation that surrounds us, a bog.  Where the vegetation is absent there is black mud consisting of dark silt .  The mud has that sulfur smell indicative of an anoxic environment and slow decay.

                  The buildings here are all wood construction each set on a frame of wood or metal several feet off of the ground.   Some have aluminum siding and are the typical colors you see in most east coast seaside towns, bright pastels of yellow, blue and green.  Most are covered with bare plywood while some have a faded coat of aged and chipped paint.  Ramshackle wooden walkways lead from individual houses through the mud to a better-constructed 8 foot wide boardwalk that is the main street of Kotlik.  It runs the entire length of town from the airstrip in the northwest to the southeast end of town where the old airstrip is now just a gravel roadbed raised above water level. 

                  Along with the wooden walkways that connect all parts of town there are also the aluminum-covered, insulated water and sewer pipes that snake around the village like metalic capillaries.  All these conduits have to be placed above ground due to the swampy conditions here and the freezing and thawing throughout the year. 

                  My first walk through town reminded me of the movie "Beasts of the Southern Wild".  I see the way these people are living and it reminds me of the people in that movie.  Debris and trash are visible everywhere.  Barking, gnashing dogs pull against straining chains in muddy front yards.  Metal skeletons of old broken snow machines clutter the space between the houses and the main boardwalk.   Unused, derelict buildings cluster around the place where the old school was 12 years ago. 

                  Two stores provide most commodities people need.  The Native store is run by the native Corporation, and the AC store is part of a franchise that exists in nearly every small town in Alaska.  From opposite ends of the boardwalk they compete for our business.  Nearly anything you really need can be purchased at either location, from a 6 foot wide ,two shelf, mostly empty, produce section to a long aisle of frozen foods behind glass doors.   Meats runs $7 per pound and up.  A yellow onion, $2.89.  Can of Coke, $2.99.  If it's not in the stores then you go online. Amazon usually gets it here in 5 to 7 days. Mail arrives daily via airplane.

                       There is a United States Postal office centrally located equidistant from both ends of town.  It's on stilts of course and next to that is the village health clinic.  Here you can explain your ailment to a P.A. who will then email the symptom list to a doctor in one of the local hub towns such as Nome or Saint Mary.  Hopefully an email reply will include the prescription to give you some relief.  A real medical emergency will require a flight to Anchorage which is $850 round-trip. 

                  There is a teen-activity center on the southwest end of town.  Nobody goes there anymore because kids have broken all the game and pool tables, is what I have been told.  The predominant form of recreation among the younger crowd is hanging around the school building or one of the derelicts that used to be the old school.  The younger ones like to play on the jungle gym in front of the school or float pieces of styrofoam trash in the ever present puddles.  They also like to run on the maze-like sewer conduits that snake around town.  Older kids tend to huddle in school doorways and alcoves listening to iPods and texting.  Occasionally, while walking my dog I will pass by a full blown make-out session in progress in the back stairwell. 

                  Here, the equivalent of the family car is an  18' aluminum boat with a Yamaha 115 outboard motor.  You can get anywhere in town on foot or by four-wheeler, but to leave town a boat or plane is the only way.  In an hour, if you know the river shortcuts, which all of the kids here do, you can be in neighboring Emmonak village.  For most, a trip to a big town means heading out to the mouth of the river into Norton Sound, part of the Berring Sea, and east to Stebbins or Saint Michael.  That's a 5 hour trip one-way.  For those lucky few who can manage it or have a need the trip to Anchorage is a real treat.  For most people around here Stebbins is big enough and an occasional trip there is fine.

                  The family boat is essential to their subsistence livelihood.  On August weekends I saw whole families load up and head up river to spend a few days at their family fishing camp, a wood cabin built decades ago on the riverbank.  They get to their favorite berry picking spot by boat and even hunt for moose from their boat.  As long as the river is not frozen the boat is the primary mode of transport.  Once the freeze hits the snow machines come out and the river becomes a highway.  Overland routes are also used to get to nearby villages via marked snow machine trails. 

                  I haven't been here for the freeze-up yet but I am looking forward to it.  For those of us without boats it will be nice to be able to leave the confines of the boardwalk for a change.  The bog will be solid and Hobart and I can really hike out and explore our surroundings.  There is a cemetery across the river from the old airstrip I've been wanting to visit. 

Not all is picturesque in Kotlik.  Between the boardwalks is the refuse of the village.  Household trash is mixed with building remains, discarded machinery and junk snowmobiles and four wheelers. 

And then one day last week something interesting happened.  I haven't seen a spider or a web since I got here but suddenly there are hundreds of tiny ones all over town.  They were as much of a curiosity to the people here too.  The kids were watching them move around the boardwalk railings and spin there webs between slats.  Now they are gone again.

What an awesome day today!  Today we had a class on moose processing!  They brought a freshly killed moose into the school for the kids to clean.  The parts of the moose were laid out on plastic and cardboard in the school commons area.  This might shock some of you but kids were given very sharp knives and they participated in cutting up the moose.  Teachers got in on it to.  I got to cut the hide off of the departed mooses butt.  The most exciting part was when someone squeezed on the bladder and moose pee sprayed onto my boots,(yeah, I wear boots to work because that's how I roll). 

 The moose was shot by a woman named Vanessa.  She was very proud and so was her family. 

As you can see from the pictures everyone chipped in.  The entire moose was dressed in about 2 hours.