Havin' a Ball!

John looking on as I cut the fillets

I'm hungry and ready to eat!

 I went for a hike yesterday, thankful for a clear day. It was the first time in a week that you could actually tell where the ground ended and where the sky began. We had a huge blizzard all day Saturday and it left us with 15 foot high snow drifts, people snowed inside their house, cords ripped off of houses, and the obvious fact that we were once again shut off from the outside world. The winds Sunday, even after the blizzard, were 70 mph. I managed to walk a mile on the outskirts of the village, climbing over the snow drifts and sliding down the other side or else falling through the drifts and digging myself out. I turned around to head home and would basically have to throw all my body weight forward just to stay upright. I would try and throw myself forward and the wind would hold me up - it was pretty amazing. The biggest struggle, though, was my darn backpack strap being slapped continuously in my face by the wind. I wasn’t wearing a face guard because it wasn’t extremely cold, and I didn’t imagine I would be assaulted by my backpack. I had red streaks across my face when I reached home, burnt from being whipped repeatedly.

So anyway, after my 3 mile hike yesterday I was circling around and coming back to the village from the North. I was walking home and passed a man pull up with a sled slap full of lush fish - he and his son just got back from ice fishing. He kindly offered me some, and as I was quite hungry from my walk, I accepted. So he went and got a plastic bag, tossed a couple of burbot in, and I carried them home gratefully and excited. I spread some cardboard out on our porch, grabbed the traditional Alaskan Ulu knife, and went to work cleaning and gutting the fish. They were still alive, flopping around, and I admit it would have been much easier had they been dead!

Some Eskimos stopped by the witness the “gusuk” gutting fish, even taking pictures. I finished the job, threw some hunks in a skillet, and scarfed it down. It was pretty tasty! As I’ve said before, the Eskimos are respectful to the land for providing their food, and they use every part of the animal. Sarah (Grant’s wife) came over and showed me how to clean out the intestines because they even eat those. Nasty. I did as she told me, saving the spleen, heart, pretty much everything, but I doubt I’ll eat most of that. They even boil the head, smash it up, and eat that. I can eat the skin of the fish - the tail and even the heart, but I don’t know about crushing up the eyes and eating those. Gross.

I visited Grant’s house and they gave me some seal oil to dip in some dried fish, and it was pretty good. Sun dried fish is like jerky, and it’s probably my favorite way to eat it.

There was a Yupik dance in Toksook Bay Friday and Saturday, and as the village is on Nelson Island and only a couple hours away on the snow machine, at least half the village drove over to it. They were consequently weathered there, not even able to come back after the blizzard because of the wind. We came to school Monday and hardly any kids showed up - by 10:00 we had to send them home because the rule is you have to have 60% of the kids there, and we only had 30%.

Kevin, Betsy, and me went out afterwards and had some great fun jumping in the fresh piles of snow, and some kids came up later and joined in the fun. We had a great snowball war - with ready-made trenches for protection against snowball barrages, weaving in between the drifts like a maze. It was so much fun!

Allen and Amita coming back from Toksook. Kevin's in green.

 

Around 5:00 we heard in the distance the sound of snow machines, and knew the traveling group was making their way back from Toksook. We grabbed the binoculars, headed out to the barge landing used for relocating, and watched them come back. We decided to hide behind the machinery when they got closer and barrage them with snowballs as a welcome home token. But as we watched them get closer, we witnessed two snow machines fall through the ice! The people were able to get off before they were submerged too, but it held everyone up and they were trying to get the machines out of the water. We watched them go to work, using rope and pulling them out with other snow machines. It took about 30 minutes, but they were successful in getting them out and everyone went on their way.

Snow machines in the distance to the left, you can see the broken ice in gray.

For the first time since November, it’s beginning to get daylight before I walk to work in the morning. The sun comes up around 8:00 and sets around 10:00. I’m very much looking forward to summertime, when I can walk outside and not get snow blind and have to wear shades, and walk on grass instead of snow, and go swimming, and have a BBQ, and watch baseball. :) Needless to say, I miss Texas. But that doesn’t mean I’m not still having a ball up here in the bush.

Native Learning and Northern Lights

The talk of the village recently is the nuclear crisis in Japan. Alaska news stated that the radiation leak is spreading in our direction, but the wind here is blowing in the opposite direction, protecting western Alaska. The Eskimos are a little concerned but I really don’t imagine it will affect us too much. We’re over 3,000 miles from Japan. It’s them I’m worried about! It’s crazy how that many people can just be swiped away that fast. 

Meanwhile, back on the tundra, there have been wolf sitings, so I’ve kept my hikes relatively close to the village. I try to get in 20 miles every week, so I’ve lost some weight, but the only drawback to that is I can’t shop for clothes that will fit. 

School pictures were today, which means the photographer was flown in yesterday, spending the night at the school. There are also all the people who flew in to do the villagers taxes, so it’s been a busy place. Also, the superintendent over the entire Lower Kuskokwim School District flew in to visit Newtok. It’s fun watching someone step into our casual, isolated world. I’d never see him in anything other than work clothes in Bethel, but out here he was sporting the typical bush clothes - old jeans, a t-shirt, and boots. That’s one of the perks of living out in the wilderness! It’s a rugged way of life out here, and I love it. The physical demands can be great and the hygienic opportunities are few, so it’s completely absurd to bother with appearance.

Today marks the end of the third quarter - only 10 more weeks and I’m headed back to Texas. Although I do love the longer days of sunshine. With the time change, the sun now sets around 10:00. 

In a couple of weeks we’re going to have a “Culture Week” during school. The morning hours will be spent in the classroom, doing our regular classes, then after lunch we’ll turn toward the Yupik Eskimo ways of life. There will be a Yupik adult teaching a class with a group of students from all different age levels. A certified teacher (a “gusuk” - white person) will be assigned to each class too, as a chaperone and student. Some of the Yupik classes include:

• Basket making
• Quilting
• Quspuk sewing (traditional Yupik attire)
• Fish net mending
• NYO (Native Youth Olympics)
• Dance mask and fans 
• Arctic survival

Grant was assigning us to our classes in the staff meeting and got to the last one - “Kim will be with Junior outside, learning Arctic Survival.” 

“YES!” Everyone had to laugh - Brandi said, “yeah, she’s the one with blisters all over her feet right now from hiking 5 miles.” 

They all agreed I’d benefit greatly from this course, considering how much time I spend adventuring out into the wild and all the times I’ve almost died. So much so, that I’ve acquired yet another nickname: Indiana.

At midnight a couple of weeks ago, a colleague called me and told me the northern lights are out. She told me to meet her and the group of people out on the North side of the village, beside the river. I hung up, scrambled into my snow gear, and hustled outside. Having never seen this phenomenon before, I didn’t know how long it would last. It was beautiful, but it wasn’t as bright and colorful as it normally is - as it would have been at another time or in Northern Alaska. But it was awesome anyhow! I was sorry the pictures didn’t turn out so well.

At nighttime, when I’m not over at a colleague’s house, I’m usually on the outskirts of the village, plopped in the snow, staring up at the huge expanse over head, the stars well visible in the crisp night air. It’s awing - almost like I’m almost have an out-of-body experience! 

Irrcinraq

The Fox and the Moose

I went for a hike a couple of weeks ago, and when I was about a mile outside the village I saw a guy come in my direction with a rifle propped up on his snow machine. I knew he was going out hunting, but I didn’t know for what. He stopped and asked if I had seen a fox - there was one running around on the outskirts of the village and then ran out in my direction. I told him no, I hadn’t seen one, but I’d keep a look out for it. (Remember, most foxes are rabid out here, which is why they shoot them.) He drove away and I resumed my walking. Not ten seconds later, though, and I spotted the fox about 200 yards away. I looked to signal to the Eskimo, but he had seen it too. The chase was on! 

The fox took off running and I grabbed my binoculars to watch the show. But there wasn’t much action - the fox was fast and I watched until both were out of view. I never heard a gunshot - I just assumed he had lost it. I kept hiking, the wind picking up ridiculous speed. It was a beautiful day - warm weather (around 15 degrees), blue skies,  and everything clear. But the wind was merciless. I had asked Grant what the wind speed was later and he said around 50 mph! So needless to say, my work was cut out for me. I hiked on with the wind against my back, knowing all along the trip back was going to be brutal trying to walk into the wind, but going for the distance anyway. 

After a little while I looked up and saw to the north a fox - I assumed it was the same one from earlier but you never know. There had been a hill separating us, and now that I had reached the top of it, I could see it - we were only about 50 feet away from each other. There was a huge hunk of moose meat that someone had left and the fox was going at it. I was kicking myself for not bringing the camera! This would have been an awesome picture! But I watched on - the fox didn’t look rabid to me, but I’m no expert on the subject. I don’t know why but I’m not afraid of them like everyone says I should be. I mean, I wouldn’t go up and try to pet it, but I like getting close enough to see it up close. They are beautiful animals! I stood there probably 10 minutes just watching it trot around and consider the moose’s remains. It new I was there - it stopped and watched me intently several times - but it didn’t advance or run away, which made me believe this particular fox really didn’t have rabies. We were both curious of each other. 

Eventually the fox lost interest and moved on. I watched it trot off over the hills and into the wild, thanking God for His beautiful creation and the opportunity to witness this kind of thing first hand. 

I continued my hike, looking down at the GPS to tell me when I had finally reached the 3 mile mark. I was dreading the return trip in that wind. Finally I made it. Usually at the half way mark I take a break, drink some tea from my thermos, and enjoy the surroundings from a standstill. But I was really dreading the 3 mile hike back against 50 mph winds, so I figured I might as well start and get it over with.

If you’ve never had the pleasure of experiencing that kind of hike in the snow, let me try and explain what it’s like. You can’t hear a thing other than wind gusts swooshing right in your face. You can barely stand straight up - you’re hunkered down, putting all your strength into taking the next step, just to take the next one, trying to level the snow shoes and not fall over, because it’s impossible to walk in a straight line. So what turns out to be a 3 mile hike back to the village wound up to be 5 miles - 2 miles alone just from wandering off track. It was crazy, to say the least. I was very grateful, however, that it was just the wind I was fighting and not the extreme cold, too. 

I hiked a long time, not resting until my snow shoe binding came loose. I could not get the dang thing back on! To walk without it clipped is harder than not using it at all, so I finally gave up and carried the darn thing. So I was walking with one shoe on, one off, maybe for 20 minutes, before I came to a hill and could find a little shelter from the wind so as to really work on the bindings. I fixed it, strapped it on, and kept pushing through that wind. 

Two men on snow machines came out to meet me when I got closer to the village and asked if I was okay. I told them I was fine, just very tired from the walk in this wind. I thanked them for checking on me and they offered to give me a ride back, but I couldn’t accept. I have to finish what I started!

I finally arrived at the edge of the village, and I figured this is as good a place as any to give myself a much needed rest. I never really know how tired I am until I actually stop doing whatever it is I’m doing, and when I just dropped my gear and collapsed on the snow, I lay there completely exhausted, thinking “this seems all too familiar!” I closed my eyes and didn’t move a muscle. I could have fallen asleep right there! I lay there probably 20 minutes, allowing my body to rest, something I need to learn to do more. When I sat up to go home I clipped my snow shoes on my backpack, and still, I barely had enough energy to stand up. I’m sure it must have been a funny site to see me try and stand up with my hiking poles, sinking in the snow, and try and hoist the backpack back on in that wind. I made the walk back to the cabin, loving the feeling of exhaustion after completing a strenuous hike!

An Unforgettable Birthday

The hills on Nelson Island - picture taken in early January

At the end of the day, Grant said “I was nervous because I almost got you killed!” We both laughed off the tension and I reassured him it wouldn’t have been his fault!

It was my 24th birthday Monday, and it had been great. But nothing compared to the gift my boss gave me. He walked into my last period class, said “Happy birthday Kim! We have a surprise for you!” Excited, all I said was “okay,” with a big grin. “We’re taking you to the hills to snowboard!” Let me tell ya... I came out of my seat I was so stoked. Since coming here in August of 2009, I’ve always wanted to go to Nelson Island to the hills. I’ve been to other villages on the island by plane, but never actually gone to the hills by crossing the river by boat or snow machine. 

When 4:00 finally rolled around, I hurried my students out of my classroom and was out of that school as fast as possible. I went home and layered up - the weather was beautiful, but you just never know how fast it could turn. Betsy, the new teacher, came over and said she was going, too. After we were properly dressed we grabbed our snowboards and went over to Grant’s house. We took 3 snow machines: Grant and his daughter Jordan on one, pulling a sled with the snowboards; Dylan (Grant’s son) and Betsy on one; and John (one of my students and same age as Dylan) and me on one.

First attempt on my mini snowboard

Riding on the back of a snow machine is a lot of fun, but when you have a 16 year old boy driving it, it’s pretty wild. We were racing Dylan and Betsy, going super fast, and holding on for dear life. But remembering he is one of my students, and I the teacher, I figured I shouldn’t show all the excitement I was feeling so as not to egg him on, for the sake of both our lives. 

The river is 9 miles wide, and when we got to the base of the hills, we saw a beautiful white snowshoe hare - no lie, it was as big as a fox. We chased it for a while, then made our way through the valleys and up the slopes. Riding on into the snow covered hills with the sun shining down on us, I was so happy and blessed. I mean, here I am, living this awesome adventure, getting to do things and go places I’d never imagined. I’m in this great land, wide open spaces, hundreds of miles from the city, and where the next adventure is always right in front of you. And I’m right in the middle of it all. God has really been good to me!

The hills are 1677 feet tall, and the slopes are intense. Where we stopped, you could ride down probably a mile before hitting a small plateau. We would snowboard or sled down, and Grant would come pick you up with the machine. Only once I walked half way up to see how hard it would be. The hill was steep and long, which means we were flying down it! One thing I like about the Yupik culture is, they learn by experience. You don’t spend a lot of time learning theory or sitting and listening - you get out there and do it. And every time I do something with an Eskimo, that’s what I do. Just throw yourself in there and learn by trial and error. When you mess up, pick yourself up and try it again. It wasn’t any different here on the hills. Grant asked if I wanted to try the snowboard, and of course I said yes. So I strapped the bindings on, not having a clue how to steer the thing, and just took off. 

That thing picked up some crazy speed, and I absolutely loved the rush. I actually stayed up quite a while, but then somehow slid around to where I was going down backwards and then took a rough crash. I crashed plenty of times, of course, and you just have to get back up and do it again. Unfortunately, though, the snow had hardened so it wasn’t at all pleasant to hit the ground after going 30 mph. Lets just say at the end of the day I was bloody, bruised, swollen... and concussed.

I know how to skateboard and balance myself, so it wasn’t that hard to get the hang of snowboarding. On the plateau, to the right, there were bushes, so it was important to try and keep to the left. We weren’t entirely successful all the time though. Betsy wasn’t comfortable going down on a snowboard, so I went down with her in the sled a few times. 

It was actually difficult to steer that thing - you’d have to push down on the snow with your hand in the direction you wanted to go, and we would spin around and slide down backwards - it was pretty intense. We hit several bumps, got some sweet air, got flipped in the sled, and even went through the bush, which was rather scary. We had so much fun though! We laughed so hard we couldn’t even breathe - we just laid in the snow, gasping for breath while reliving the rush. Not having access to this kind of thing as kids, we were catching up on the fun.

We went back up to the top of the hill, and Dylan had gathered some twigs from the bushes below. We started a fire by digging a hole in the snow. It was pretty amazing, being out in the wilderness with friends, all huddled around a campfire. Grant said “too bad we don’t have a rabbit to roast!” We all laughed, wishing we had chased the snow shoe hare and caught it. Grant pointed out a mud volcano in the distance and where our village would relocate in a few years, and in that moment, knowing how unbelievably blessed I was, I was completely content.

Dylan (L)  and John

My last ride of the evening I went down in the sled, faster than before since it was just my body weight, and didn’t even try to steer. I was just letting it take me wherever it happened to go. Well, bad choice on my part. Probably half a mile down it hit a big bump and I went airborne. The sled tilted vertically, I fell out of it, and landed on my head. Not good! I lost consciousness for about 15 minutes and lost memory for about 30 minutes, so I only know what happened because John and Dylan happened to be right there when and where the crash took place. 

Grant measured the distance from where Dylan said I went airborne to the site of the crash, which came out to be 54 feet. Since I don’t remember what happened, here’s the story compiled by Grant and the boys: When I first became conscious again I said “I beat my personal record of flying!” Somewhere in my head I must have remembered the snow machine incident from last year. They kept asking if I was okay, and I laid back down, said I needed a minute but I was okay. When I sat up I said “I don’t remember what just happened.” Grant kept calling my name “Kim.. Kim! Do you know what year it is? Do you know what year it is?” After a while I answered “2011” then he’d say “Kim, do you know what today is?” And I could even tell him it was my birthday. He didn’t want me to fall asleep because he knew I had a concussion. Betsy was still at the top of the hill, and Grant said she must be worried sick, so they picked up all my gear that came off - hat, gloves, goggles - tied the sled to the snow machine, got me in it, and rode back to our little campsite. 

Betsy was told the story while I attempted to put my gear back on but couldn’t. So Grant helped me out, then we loaded up to go back to the village. I got back on with John and held on tight, and this is where my memory fuzzily returns. We stopped about a mile down the hill and Grant got off to come check on me. My head kept falling like I was going to fall asleep and he said “Kim! Don’t fall asleep! That wouldn’t be good.” So I tried with all my might to stay focused, to keep my mind alert and not drift into sleep. As crazy as John was on the ride over, he was equally responsible and considerate on the way back. He consistently turned to look back at me, checking I was awake, and would stop, asking if I was too cold and how I was feeling. Grant was leading the way, we were second, and Dylan was bringing up the lead so as to sandwich me and make sure I didn’t fall off if I lost consciousness again.

Paula, Brandi, and Kevin were back in Newtok cooking some Tex-Mex for my birthday dinner (yum), and they were expecting us back by 7:00. We made it back to the village by 7:30 and I clambered off the machine, stumbling and still dizzy. Grant asked Betsy if she was going to walk me over to Paula’s, then said to call him if they think I need to go to the clinic, because I would never go on my on will. We walked in the cabin and they were relieved to see I was okay. (As soon as we were back within an area with cell phone service Betsy called them and said “Kim had a wreck and she can’t remember anything! Bye!” So they were sitting there worried, but when I got there we found out the service was still bad and Betsy wasn’t able to tell them the whole story.)

from left to right: Betsy, Jordan, Grant

I sat down on the floor to rest, but because I was warm and comfortable now, I was even more prone to fall asleep. My head kept sinking and they kept telling me to stay awake. They would ask how I felt, and I’d respond “I’m good! My mind is just fuzzy.” Paula called the guy who runs the clinic (it was closed by this time) and the guy gave me the same advice last year when the snow machine fell on top of me: “just put some ice on it.” Not satisfied with that remedy for a concussion, she called a friend who works in sports medicine back in Louisiana. He basically told us what we already knew - don’t go to sleep for a few hours, drink lots of fluids, and if I get nauseous to get medical help.

Grant came over again just to check on me and told them the story, which was when I first learned exactly what happened. So anyway, I was fine after that. I had awesome food, great company, and once again, I was so happy to be alive. It was the best birthday I believe I’ve ever had. I AM alive and well though, so it was all worth it.