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.

"Lost" in a Blizzard

Last weekend I took my snowboard (a mini snowboard, a little bigger than a skateboard, one you don’t have to have all the bindings and boots with) out to the airport to have some fun. As always I jotted my roommate a note telling her where I went and when she could expect me back. I “snow-skated” for about twenty minutes then decided to go for a hike. I didn’t want to walk the half mile back to the house just to drop off my snowboard, so I carried it. It was a really windy day, probably 30 mph gusts, so I wasn’t planning on going out further than a mile. So I had a set goal - my GPS would tell me when I reached a mile - and then I’d turn around and go back. I didn’t have snow shoes because it’s too inconvenient to carry both those and a snowboard, so it just took a little longer than it usually would. 

I finally hit the mile mark and turned back to the village. The wind started picking up and the snow was blowing right in my direction, so I pulled down my snow goggles, pulled up my face mask, and kept walking. That wasn’t anything new to me. When you’re out on the tundra, there aren’t many landmarks to keep you on the right track, but being only a mile out, I could look up and still see the airport. But I kid you not, the sky was blue one minute, and within the next, a blizzard was there. The airport was gone, I couldn’t see anything within 10 feet of me. It came on so fast I never had time to dread the possibility of not being able to find my way back. But now that I was in the middle of it, I knew I had to get back fast. I looked at the GPS, knew I had to walk northeast for .85 miles, and be there within 30 minutes before my roommate would start worrying. 

I was dressed properly and I wasn’t cold - when it’s super cold out the skies are clear - someone explained to me once that the clouds tend to act as a blanket. So I wasn’t cold and I didn’t have hypothermia or frostbite this time. I really wasn’t at all worried about my wellbeing - my main worry was that Naomi would panic and send someone out to search for me, which wasn’t necessary. I didn’t want anyone to think they had to take a risk on my account - I fully take responsibility for my actions and I feel that if I get myself in a situation, I should be the one to get out of it. So anyway, worrying about what Naomi was thinking, I tried to pick up the pace by jogging. Which was quite difficult. Jogging in snow against what was now probably 40 mph winds and snow blowing at you,... just doesn’t work out so well. But it was slightly quicker than walking, so I kept it up. Fighting the wind is tough, and I kept having to look down at the GPS to make sure I was still going in the right direction, because I had absolutely no visibility. 

[At our next poker night we were talking about this latest adventure and Paula said “so you were lost?” I replied, “well, no, I wasn’t lost, I just didn’t know where I was.” Which got some laughs. I mean, I had my GPS, I knew the direction I needed to go. I just didn’t know exactly where I was in all that whiteness.]

I couldn’t see the building anymore but I kept walking in that direction. Without snow shoes it’s very frustrating walking in snow, especially when you’re trying to move as fast as possible. Sometimes you fall through to your waist and have to dig yourself out, sometimes you sink down to your knees and take giant steps for what seems like forever. Fortunately I’ve done this enough that I was in shape at least, but I was still tired.

After a while I kind of wished I had chosen to leave the snowboard home instead of doing both that and the hike, because there’s simply no easy way to carry a snowboard in a blizzard. Holding it comfortably was stalling my walking due to the friction with the wind, but carrying it vertically was just too awkward with a GPS in the other hand. I was getting closer but the weather was worse. I put my hand up probably a foot in front of my face and couldn’t see it. I was impressed with the blizzard before this moment, but after not being able to see my hand made my adrenaline rush more. I needed to get there fast. I thought about the teenage boy in a nearby village, only a month earlier, walking home in a blizzard and they found his frozen body the next day a mile and a half away from the village. 

So with that thought fresh in my mind, I ran as fast as I could, trusting my GPS to lead me to the small locked storage building that sits at the end of the runway. At this point I had decided I just needed to see something familiar, and when I do, I wouldn’t leave it until the blizzard passes. I kept going, suddenly climbing a steep hill, going full speed, and reached a landing. I bent down to the ground and realized I was on the runway! Now I know this is illegal, but I couldn’t have cared less at the time. No plane would land in this anyhow, and I didn’t want to leave a path that would take me to safety. Plus I was thankful I could run on solid ground again. I ran for some time, and then became stunned to hear a plane flying overhead. I still couldn’t see a foot in front of me. 

As much as I doubted the plane would land, I for sure didn’t want to get run over by it if for some chance it did. I quickly tried to calculate the time it took for a pilot to circle around and land, then realized I didn’t even know how much further it was to the end of the runway.

So I didn’t give it any more thought. I immediately turned and ran sideways, tripped over a huge hunk of snow on the side of the strip, stood up, and just jumped off and rolled down the slope. The plane never did land but at least my heart wasn’t pounding like crazy. I was close, but I didn’t want to rest until I reached the storage building. I got up and continued to run. My legs were burning, but eventually I finally started climbing another hill and found the building. I went to the back of it, out of the pounding snow and finally out of the ridiculous wind. I was so exhausted that I immediately dropped the snowboard and just crashed, panting from running and the adrenaline rush. 

I knew I had to make a few phone calls. I called Naomi and she didn’t answer... called another teacher, no answer. I called Grant, and his wife answered. I explained I didn’t need help, I just wanted to assure Naomi that I wasn’t lost out on the tundra somewhere. She told me not to try and go anywhere (I may be adventurous and risky, even stupid at times... but I knew I wouldn’t try and walk any further in a white-out blizzard.) Well, after about 5 minutes it started clearing up. I still couldn’t see the village houses, but after another 5 minutes I could make out the village, and I saw a familiar snow machine heading my way. Grant pulled up and said jokingly “I’m here to rescue you!” We got back and he wanted to hear the story, and he said it’s another one for me to write down. A couple of extreme adventures ago he said I should start writing my stories down.

Anyway... he dropped me off at the school and I started walking home and saw Naomi running out of the house with my note in her hand. She saw me and threw her hands up and started laughing. At least I know she cares enough to go get help! I changed clothes, had some coffee, and went to the school to grade some papers, and there were kids there for open gym. I walked in and they said “Kim! You got lost in the blizzard?” ....Of course everyone in the village knows after only 30 minutes. Well, another intense day, another day of thanking God for the time I’m still here. 

Over the summer I promised my mom I’d be more careful, and she replied “I know you will, but that won’t make you stop doing what you love.” I ache for her pain, but I knew she was right. It’s just who I am. I don’t intentionally look for danger, it’s just a dangerous place. It’s risky every time you go out, but I try to be careful in it. But you can’t live in fear of what might happen - you just have to prepare for the worst and hope for the best. I never underestimate nature, and I’m always grateful for coming back alive. But know that if something were to happen, I’d rather go out doing something I love than regretting watching an opportunity pass. That’s just my nature. 

An Epic Tale

I was bound and determined to go camping during the deep winter, but I’ve learned my will-power can only go so far when challenged by Alaska’s brutal environment. Last week, a couple days before I was to go out, I was getting in some last minute training and hiking before surrendering completely to 24 hours of pure pain. My plan was to pack everything I’d take on the camping trip and go out, set the tent up at the site, and then take it down and return - just to know for certain all will work out. But the snow machine decided not to work that day. 

Determined and prideful as I am, I hoisted the 50 pound backpack on my back and began hiking in another direction that was easier terrain for walking. I didn’t bring my snowshoes because I wasn’t planning on going out that far. So I trekked on, enjoying it as always, but that day it was -30 with a -60 wind chill. I made a mental note to throw an extra blanket in with the rest of the camping gear. 

I so enjoy my hikes that sometimes I lose track of time and distance, and that’s what happened. I noticed the sun was getting really low, and I looked at my GPS and sure enough I had already walked 2 miles. So I dropped my pack, got out my tent and set it up as quickly as possible. The wind had really picked up and I suddenly realized how cold I was. But I kept on, snapping the poles in place, focusing on doing this right, because it would need to be perfect in a couple of days. Well, one of the poles snapped into 2 pieces. I was so angry! I was so close! But I immediately began trying to find a solution, letting the broken piece hang and jamming the short pole into the snow. Eventually the tent did stand, although a little sloppy. But I did what I could with what I had. I snapped a few pictures then put the camera back in the pack.

By this time I was super cold. I stood up and almost fell over because I was so dizzy. The wind hadn’t let up since I stopped walking, so I figured I should take refuge for a few minutes inside before I unassembled the tent and hiked the 2 miles back. I sat there, finally out of the wind, but freezing nonetheless. I didn’t understand what made me so dizzy but it scared me a little because now I was so cold my fingers and toes were having spasms and going numb. So I crawled back out of the tent, turned around to take it apart, and I couldn’t even hold on to the tent. The dizziness was too intense, and now my mind was befuddled. It was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do, but I grudgingly acknowledged that I wasn’t in any state to hang around there. My pride was hurt pretty bad - I never accept defeat, and that’s what it felt like. I know it was the smart move to make but all the same, I hated it. 

Knowing I had to get home fast, I somehow was able to put my backpack on - I didn’t even try to close the top - and just walked as fast as I could. The longer I walked, the more I beat myself up... “I can’t believe I actually left that tent there and just LEFT! What the heck was I thinking?? When I get back I’m gonna get that dang snow machine working and go get it. Gah!” It’s not that I care that much about the tent, it’s just a matter of my pride getting the best of me. I couldn’t stand the fact that I surrendered, even through hypothermia. There were some hills I got stuck on - I sunk in, kept trying to climb, and would slide down. I had messed up with leaving the tent so I kept with the stupid hill and refused to let anything else get in my way. I was really mad, and I wasn’t thinking straight. I would run up the hill, slide down, and be like, “what just happened!?” But I would get right back up and try it again. Refusing to accept defeat, I finally got over the hill and kept going. My face guard was on but the wind blew right through it. It wasn’t long before my ear was burning, so I kept rubbing it, trying to warm it up. And to top it off, my brand new snow goggles were frozen and I couldn’t even see through them. Every step was an ordeal, especially toting a heavy backpack. But I was on a mission and that anger and determination is what kept me going.

The sun had set by now but I was still going to go back and retrieve the tent. I finally made it to the village, my eyes barely open from frozen moisture, my mind delusional, my body temperature lowered. I stumbled into the house and dropped the backpack. Naomi was there asking how it went, but it didn’t take her long to figure out something was wrong. My fuzzy mind was trying to focus on nothing else but fixing the mistake I made. I tried to walk over to get the snow machine key but fell over. I was in a rush and didn’t want to answer her questions, but she grabbed me and asked what I was doing. I finally told her I left the tent out there and I had to go get it. 

Obviously from her stance I wasn’t in any condition to go back out in the cold, but at the time I wouldn’t hear it. But when you can barely walk I guess the other person has the upper hand. She kept telling me no, I needed to sit down. And I would just say no, I have to go back. Bumping into walls, I made my way to the door and she actually went and stood in front of it, not letting me by. Looking back, I’m very thankful I have a roommate that would do that. I was exhausted, delusional, my ear was frostbitten, and I had a moderate stage of hypothermia. I finally dropped to the floor and started crying, still angry at myself for not being strong enough to finish the job, and angry at Naomi for not letting me go. She called someone to go retrieve the tent, which made me feel even more pathetic, but she was just being helpful. 

I’m not one that likes to accept help, and not at all one to give up - even in life threatening situations. I like to think of this as one of my strengths, but I also know this pride can be a weakness. As much as I hated to leave the tent and go back to safety, and even more so to cancel the camping trip, I know it’s the responsible decision. It hurts my pride, but at the same time I’m proud I can admit my limitations. I thought I was tougher than that, and boy, that’s a tough realization to come to. Everyone keeps trying to console me, explaining that many Eskimos, who’ve lived here all their lives, haven’t even spent a night out in deep winter. But that doesn’t make me feel any better about myself. I hold high standards and expectations for myself and I don’t compare them with others. I’m just me, trying to be the best I can possibly be, and push beyond what my body thinks it can handle, and if I come short of giving 200%, I’m incredibly upset with myself. I’m still going to go camping, but need to fix the tent and prepare better for the cold. I may hold off until spring, gradually working my way up and next year can give it another go. Anyway, until the circumstances are right, I’m holding off the camping trip. Thanks anyway for all the prayers! It took a few days to get to a normal mental state after hypothermia but I’m completely fine now. I’m so very thankful for all the prayers, please know that!

Camping

I’m finally doing it! Saturday, around noon, I’m going to put on my backpack, hop on my snow machine, drive out about 10 miles in the Alaska wilderness, snow shoe for a couple of hours, pitch a tent, and brave the ridiculously cold weather until Sunday afternoon.

Now I know most of you are probably thinking I’m crazy and that’s okay! I fully agree with you. But I’ve planned this trip, I’ve thoroughly prepared for it, and it’s something I feel like I have to do. I can’t come this far, live this awesome Alaskan adventure, get that close to the ultimate camping trip, and not take it. So I am. I’m a little bit nervous, but mainly I’m excited. I know it’s not going to be like any camping trip I’ve ever been on, and I’ve camped plenty.

Everyone keeps asking why I would want to do something like this, and all I can tell them is “it’ll be fun!” Now I’m not so naive that I actually believe it’s going to be fun. I’m anticipating plenty of pain and discomfort - I don’t even plan on getting a wink of sleep to be honest - I’m going to need to keep moving. But I still believe it’ll all be worth it. One of my favorite quotes says “Pain only lasts a little while, but regret stays with you forever.” And I know that if I don’t do this, I will regret it. It’s the ultimate adventure. So for the final reward of surviving the -60 degrees, strong winds, and fiercely vicious environment, I’ll be glad I did it. And that will make it fun!

The Eskimos think I’m crazy - no one I’ve spoken with has ever done it except when hunting. They only go out for their subsistence lifestyles, never just for fun. I respect their culture a great deal. But I know myself and it’s difficult trying to explain why I want to do this. I know I’m out-there adventurous and I enjoy living on the edge. 

They worry about the rabid foxes, wolves coming up, even a bear coming around - but honestly I doubt I’ll be bothered. But that doesn’t mean I won’t be prepared - I’m as prepared as I can be. The weather is my biggest enemy. Blizzards can appear out of nowhere - the skies can be blue one minute, and within the next 5 minutes it’ll be upon you and you can’t see an inch in front of your face. But you can’t control everything. Risk is part of it, and it’s what makes it exciting and makes you feel alive. 

Some of my colleagues have tried to talk me out of it, some have made me swear I’ll do it right, some have scolded (Yupik “Nunuked”) me for my risk-taking intensity, but they all understand how I am, and that even though there are plenty of dangers, I’m gonna see it through. I’m viewed as the young adventure-seeking teacher, and my principal tells any visitor exactly that when he introduces us. It’s all good and fun - we have some good laughs at my close calls but also look to make it right in the future. I’ve learned tons, mainly from my mistakes. One thing I like about living and working here is that you have to pull yourself up by your own bootstraps. You’re given space to make mistakes, and you can either give up or become stronger by figuring it out and pulling through - whether that be in the classroom or stuck out in the tundra all by yourself. We care for each other, but we’re strong-willed too. I appreciate all their concern - it means a lot that they care enough to try and talk some sense into me ;-) - but I also appreciate them allowing me to carry out my adventures, make my own mistakes, and learn from them. My personal motto is “Don’t just go on an adventure of a lifetime; live a life of adventure.”

I’ll let ya know how it goes.

-Irrcinraq

Livin' it Up

Last Saturday, after a long day of work, Grant came by our cabin window on his snow machine and smiled really big, which told me he wanted to take me somewhere. So I ran out to warm up my snow machine, went and threw some warm clothes on, and went back outside. We were riding the 3 miles over to the abandoned village. It was Grant with his youngest son on one machine, Grant’s older son and a friend on a machine, and I was driving with a little 8 year old boy that wanted to go along for the ride. My snow machine has no shocks at all, which makes for a bumpy, wild ride. Plus, after the 2 blizzards, there are snow drifts everywhere, some over 6 feet tall. So you have to go fast in order not to get stuck. On a snow machine with no shocks and lots of snow drifts, you fly up off the machine like riding a bull at a rodeo. It’s important that you hang on tight - I’ve been thrown off 5 or 6 times and it can be a rough experience. There are no handle bars on the back “seat” for the kid to hold onto, so needless to say, I was a little worried. I told the kid to hold on tight because it was going to be a rough ride! But these kids have grown up riding snow machines and they are as comfortable on them as cowboys are on horses. 

Anyway, it was a fun ride, no one got thrown off, and we stopped periodically to look for foxes and other wildlife. Grant was leading, and I saw him stop up ahead and get off, but nothing was there. I had imagined there would be these old shacks, but there was nothing except for a wooden cross in the snow. Grant said the people of Newtok use to live here, but they had lots of trouble getting supplies there due to the terrain, so they relocated in 1959 to where we are now. When they lived there at the abandoned site, they still lived in sod houses. I wish I could have seen what it looked like back then! I hadn’t thought of bringing my camera, but there was nothing really to take a picture of. But I did bring my GPS, so I marked the spot so I could find my way back if I go again.

We headed back, this time with more luck of spotting wildlife - we saw a beautiful white ptarmigan walking probably 50 feet away and we stopped to watch it. It snowed the entire time, and my goggles broke on the return trip. So it was pretty crazy trying to see where I was going. As soon as I could, I ordered new goggles online. I hope they get here soon. But until then I’ve make do with duct taped goggles.

Our basketball team hasn’t been able to play games for 2 weeks because of the weather. The first time it was too cold to travel and the next cancelation was due to a blizzard. I don’t know yet if we’ll make those games up. 

As soon as my camping gear gets here I’m headed out - the planes have been on weather hold, but it’s gotta let up sometime. Please pray for safety and smart decisions on my part!