Hi All,
Gee I find this place interesting. You notice I did not say I like it up here, but even this place’s worst critic could not say it was not interesting. I mean every time you walk out the door you find adventure. A thing as simple as walking to the store can stay with you the rest of your life. It is nothing to be walking down the boardwalk and see a moose skill and rack on the ground or on top of a house or what passes as a house. There are so many dried fish hanging from wire strung across and between houses that you would need a book on North American Fish Identification, if one existed, to tell one from another, and one never ceases to be amazed at clothes hanging on the line being dried by the 20 mile and hour below zero wind coming off the Bering Sea. I will always carry as one of my fondest memories the half eaten walrus head in the front yard of an Eskimo dwelling that for practical reasons was being used for dog food. Ah yes, memories are made of this.
I went to the post office today. It is about a mile from our home. The temperature according to my computer stated it was a balmy 34 degrees. So I figured the walk would be nice and pleasurable. I didn’t look at the wind index.
As soon as I hit the door I realized that it was not going to be an easy walk, but being the old Tundra hand that I am, seal hunter, ghost ship explorer, failed bootlegger, counselor to priests, etc., I could deal with it.
The wind would blow me first one direction and then another; there was just enough melting and re-freezing for the slush to turn into ice and make a very slippery avenue of travel. I finally arrived at the post office after 30 minutes of snow bound adventure, only to find the doors were locked – dumb me; there was a body in the village. The whole village shuts down when a body is here waiting for burial. Kids don’t come to school, the stores close, all municipal services cease (both of them) and of course the representative of the Federal Government, the US Postal Service, shuts down also. Now I am not one to not want to pay homage where homage is due, but things can get a little out of hand. I am a guest here so I don’t say anything, or at least I don’t say anything to anyone else but you, my dear long suffering reader. But alas I digress.
Walking back to my semi-subterranean dwelling I saw in the distance a site that I thought would make my whole excursion worth the effort. Though wet, tired, and cold I ventured near the apparition. As it focused into view my heart jumped for joy – my first dog sled and driver viewing. The closer I got the more focused things became. There he was, a small boy driving a small sled, with a little larger dog, pulling a very much smaller cousin probably who was sitting in the sled. At least someone was trying to keep the tradition of the Yup’ik Eskimos alive and well – I was elated. But then I recognized the boy, it was one of the kids that one would not consider one of the better students due to lack of interest in their own eduction. The boy was smart enough, but some how school work never seemed that important to him. One of the more cynical teacher suggested that he and his family were “job security for the rest of us.”
After arriving home, my friend Nanook stopped by to set in motion the final plans about our upcoming whale hunt. I mentioned to him about the dog sled. He just laughed and said that was just like the (name deleted) family for you, “Why would anyone drive a dog sled when there were plenty of good snow machines to be had.”
Just another day in paradise.
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