Trip 3 - The Onset, Arctic fever hits again

{Picture coming soon}

For me field work always begins the same way, all nerves and butterflies wondering why in the world I am leaving the comfort of a universal armchair to travel to some tiny village accessible only by plane, with fewer people than the building in which I live. And even then, because I know the generative pursuit is bonkers, there are always much closer languages to study if I really have to do fieldwork. But then it hits me: the adventure, the tundra, a test of will, and the pursuit of whatever lays over the next horizon, why would I ever give that up? (Of course this argument can become circular very quickly). And so at 3:30 this morning prepped for nothing but success and prepared for the complete annihilation of my dreams I said good bye, jumped in a cab, and headed to the airport with three bags, 2 audio recorders, 4 high-end microphones, a video camera, elicitation props, and a ton of cold weather gear. Shortly after I was cleared into the United States and then after a 30 minute delay due to fog (seriously Edmonton?) I was in the air and headed to Seattle. A short layover and then on to Anchorage. Beautiful snow capped mountains, and a much needed nap. From Anchorage I boarded a small 30 seat prop plane and headed to Bethel, the largest town in the region with about 10k inhabitants. This flight took me over permanently snow capped peaks and ice fields feeding glaciers which in turn fed the hundreds of tiny head waters forming the Alaskan Delta region. And as the mountains gradually died away the land became flat. FLAT. Like a piece of freshly pressed paper. And polka-dotted with lakes, ponds, rivers, creeks, brooks, and rivulets weaving around each other and intersecting with no apparent order but forming a tapestry like no where else on earth. Arriving in Bethel I found that due to a crash which killed three people the day before, all village bound flights were canceled and the hotel costs as much as a plane ticket. So I bought a ticket on a different airline (the one other airline) and after a couple hours of patiently waiting I boarded an even smaller prop plane which sat 6 people. And again the fantastic tapestry of red and yellow land weaving through the endless water ways. Its hard to describe the tundra. It's hardly magnificent as one would describe the Rocky mountains, but its far from plain or bare. The tundra truly is fantastic, and when you think of the traditionally, seasonally nomadic Yup'ik people who have spent centuries on this land traveling these water ways, its no surprise that they are the inventors of the Kayak and you can have nothing but the most immense respect for their way of life, and their knowledge of the land and water.

Previously, I've only been here in the summer and the land is green and yellow. This autumn the grass, foliage, lichen, and moss is a deep strawberry red mixed with browns and yellows and it is breath taking. I can't imagine what it might look like in the winter veil of white snow. But perhaps I'll stick around long enough to see it this year. In short, the tundra is awe-inspiring and it reminded me of why I continue to travel North year after year (besides the elegance of the Yugtun language, and the friendly, jolly, and carefree attitude of the people). And so passing a single solitary mountain that stuck up out of the land like a winkle on a freshly ironed shirt, we saw mountain village (a village built on the side of “mountain” though the river valley in Edmonton is steeper and bigger than this single hill.) and thus entered hill country and following the course of the Yukon landed in Alakanak. In Alakanak we switched over to the tiny-ist 3.5 person plane and headed over the flat Yukon delta to Kotlik. Landing just as the sun-set (I've never seen a sun-set in Alaska before) at about 9pm local time, I helped unload the mail and hitched a ride on the ATV (as Kotlik only has ATVs, Snow Machines, and boats) to the school, which shall be my home until I get the chance to talk to the administration in the morning and hopefully can work out an arrangement to stay with an elder perhaps. Fingers crossed, prayers said, I can't say the butterflies are gone yet or that they'll ever leave or that I'm even confident. But I do remember why I choose to be a field worker, and why I choose to go north to the arctic to study a language which resonates in my soul and to learn the ways of an inspiring culture. I am, I must admit, excited for this adventure and perhaps some of the butterflies are in fact those of anticipation for a great journey. And thus my first day of this two month trip is at an end and it is finally time to break fast and eat the dinner I bought in Anchorage. Piurra “stay as you are.”

-Nik