Out With The Old, In With The?

I've decided to retire the old blog banner.  I'm not one of those people resistant to change, but I'm also not one of those people who constantly seeks change.  I like to try new things, but I like to stick with what I like.  I also believe in benchmarks and commemorating change.  The new banner will be a trademark of recent changes.

Lest we not forget, here's the old banner.

 Happy reading!  

~Sam

Russian Food

If you were asked what is Russian food, what would your answer be?  Never having been to Russia, I would probably give a blank stare, then say "Vodka."

Obviously, Vodka is not a food.  It is made from potatoes, right?  So my next response would have been potatoes.  Then I would think about Russian salad dressing, isn't it red?  Though I always wondered, since its red like ketchup, but doesn't taste like ketchup.

This week I had the opportunity to eat Russian food.  If you are ever in the Copper River Valley, south of Kenny Lake, make sure you visit the Tonsina River Lodge.  Recently the establishment was purchased by a Russian family.  The menu features some delicious traditional Russian and Siberian dishes.  Around mile 80 on the Richardson Highway you will find the Tonsina River Lodge nestled alongside the Tonsina River.  From the highway, it doesn't look like much, as most Alaskan highway roadhouses don't appeal to everyones taste from the outside.

Pulling off the highway there are several visible structures on the property.  A large one story trailer style dormitory, littered with oversized trucks and summer construction vehicles parked out front.  The main lodge is a derelict run down three story building.  Most of the windows appear broken out, vegetation snaking up the sides.  The restaurant is built into a long building adorned with signs advertising liquor and Russian food.

Coming through the arctic entry screen door and into the main bar room feels as if entering a rustic roadhouse.  I was waiting to see scoundrels and rascals hanging from the bar, staring into me as I entered.  Instead, the music didn't stop, and no one stared me down .  The far side of the establishment was partitioned and decorated differently.  Hardwood tables line both walls of the main dining room.  Framed photographs of Czars hang from the walls intermingled with birch bark crafts and a typical Alaskan motif.

Over the course of two nights we tried four different entrees.

Machanka, a skillet of roast beef, smoked sausage, and diced ham atop chopped potatoes.  A nice tomato sauce mixed throughout and bound together with cheese.  My (and our) personal favorite.

Blinchiki, crepe like burritos filled with a variety of meats, diced vegetables, and an egg like substance.

Shashluki, simply chunks of beef on a skewer with onions.

Cheburki, a flattened chicken breast, lemon sautéed, then baked inside a pie crust style croissant.

You don't have to take my word for it.  If you pass mile 80 and the Tonsina River Lodge, stop for some good food, the best around!  

Second Year Photo Montage

This is a montage of several photographs from my second year teaching 5th - 12th grade in Arctic Village, Alaska.  The soundtrack is by the David Crowder Band. 

Wainwright to Barrow

For the first time I got to fly across the slope in the summer.  The majority of my travel on the North Slope has been during the winter months when it is cold and dark.  Summer in Barrow means 24-7 sunlight.  It truly never gets dark for 84 days!  Coming from Fairbanks at 75 degrees, 36 degrees in Barrow felt quite cold, but the endless daylight was incredible.

Off to work

On my way from Wainwright (a village west of Barrow along the coast) to Barrow we flew over the pack ice and got to see the Arctic Ocean.

As we flew out over the ice the Era pilot told us to look along the cracks of the ice for polar bears waiting on seals to surface.  I looked really hard, but how exactly do you spot white on white?

 The Arctic Ocean is incredibly beautiful, vast and still.  Because of the ice there are not large waves like you see in the Pacific or Atlantic.  As far as the eye can see there is calm.

 From the air, the ice creates a stark contrast of mosaic patterns as far as the eye can see.

 I like the areas where the differences in ice thickness creates greens and blues.  Even from the air you can get a sense of the texture of the ice.

Like cloud watching, I tried to look for shapes in the ice and imagined quite a few creatures.

Halfway between Wainwright and Barrow we spotted a whale!  This photo from my IPod really doesn't do it justice.  The pilot actually looped back and dropped down low so that we could get a better view, but the whale dove down disappearing back into the ocean.

While I was in Wainwright they were celebrating the last of the whaling boats returning to the village.  It had been a good season of whaling.  The 10 or 11 crews that went out took 5 or 6 whales.  Muktuk for everyone!

Moving

Does anyone really like moving?  I don't mean settling into a new community and learning exciting new things about the place you now live.  I mean boxing up your possessions.  Lugging around all your junk.  Worrying what will break, what won't survive the move, and what will be lost forever.  

The only thing worse than moving once is moving twice, in the same instance.  We first had to move from Arctic Village to Fairbanks.  This moved required mailing six boxes through the postal service, then, trying to fit everything else on the small Cessna airplane.

 Gretchen looks at the single truckload she's survived off of in Arctic Village for two years...

Then, we had to move all our belongings from Anchorage, out of storage, and 400 miles north to Fairbanks. This stage required flying the afternoon Alaska Airlines flight.  Renting a U-haul.  Then coercing our friends with beer and burgers to help unload the tight storage garage and reload an even tighter 26 foot U-haul.  Finally, I drove the u-haul through the Alaska Range and north to Fairbanks.

  Ironically, our u-haul was decorated with Delaware, Gretchen's home state...

The process has taught me that I need to stay put for a while.  As we are still in the closing process, stay tuned for photos of the new house- or I might just make you wait in anticipation until booking your own plane ticket to see Fairbanks for yourself.

Mount Rainier Documentary

Not exactly a feature length film, but here's a quick glimpse of our recent trip climbing Mount Rainier, in Rainier National Park, Washington.

Go Fly A Kite

I remember the first kite my Dad made.  It was large, made of heavy white tyvek material, with a large red circle like the flag of Japan.  The kite was so bulky it barely lifted off the ground, but it was unique.  Among the many other store bought kites, this one was unique, and it had personality.  I remember dozens of kites flying over Woodlawn.  A train of black, white, and orange trash bags.  Held aloft by a thin dowel exoskeleton.  One time, I remember my Dad frantically reeling them in as a thunderstorm quickly approached.  

Homemade kits were his specialty.  I think he made nearly every variety possible.  For many years I saw my Dad use the sewing machine more than anyone else.  Digging through the scrap bin of nylon at the craft store, stitching together patchwork quilt designs to blow in the breeze. 

 For two years I’ve wished my parents could visit Gretchen and I in Arctic Village.  Sadly, they never made it- but they sent the next best thing.  Last week a tube full of kites arrived from Fredericksburg, Virginia.  Dad sent materials to make over 12 “eddy” kites.  Dowels strait and bowed, pre-cut trash bags shaped like a diamond, surveyor take for tails, threaded tape for tacking it all together, and of course string to fly high in the sky.

None of my students had ever constructed their own kites.  They were used to seeing generic themed kites coming from the grocery store checkout line.  Toy Story featuring Buzz Lightyear, Star Wars with Skywalker, and plenty of Lego men to fly high in the sky were the norm.  Deltas and diamonds snapped together, flown briefly, then cast by the wayside.  The students were quite excited to craft their own.  The design was simple.  The materials basic.  Within minutes we were making kites.

Today was the last day of school.  After a village scavenger hunt followed by a bar-b-q it was time to launch our kites as afternoon breezes picked up.  Kids ranging from 2nd grade all the way to high school enjoyed flying kites in the arctic air.

We found a nice open space across the school.  Clear of power lines and trees, but not quite clear of snow.  Almost flawlessly Gretchen helped cast the kites up into the air.  Children learned through trial and error how to keep their kites flying the highest and longest.

A special thanks to my parents for gathering all the materials and mailing them all the way to Arctic Village.  We were even able to train up two kites, one of the kids said “ah look, its Sam & Gretchen.”

Last Week In Arctic Village

The title, sometimes vague, often alluding to something learned in time- in this case, says it all.  This past week I notified the Yukon Flats School District I will not be accepting my contract and returning to Arctic Village next year.  It is a decision filled with as much excitement as regret.

Over the past 6 months I have contemplated this decision nearly every moment of every day.  Daily routines and daily debacles drove me back and forth.  There were times I considered asking for more responsibility, and times I wanted to get as far away as possible.  If you know me, you know I don’t take decisions of this nature lightly.  You might also know that my outward stature gives no indication to what I’m thinking.  Sorry.  Thoughts prefer to remain thoughts, and not spoken words very often.  In the end charts and graphs don’t help me, but feelings and gut instinct have the final 'say'.  

The past two years I have experienced and learned things that will take decades to fully comprehend.  Much like my encounters and episodes in the Army, Arctic Village has shaped me in a lot of ways.  As days turn to months, then years, I feel these ideas will come forth in many ways.  For now, I’m forever indebted to the Gwich’in Athabascan people for letting me live, work, and grow upon their land.  My prayer and hope is that I gave them and their children back a fraction of what they gave me.

In six days I will board a Wright Air Cessna Grand Caravan with the remainder of my possessions and fly back to Fairbanks.  The road begins again there, but the journey, is still to be determined.  For the first time in my life I don’t have a job or a plan for what is next.  I have ideas and passions I hope to spend more time with.  I have benefits to call upon.  I have a wife to love me.  I have a dog to follow me.  The rest are fish stories that can only be shared over a beer or whiskey.  Cheers.  ~Sam

Dry Meat

Dry meat, in my opinion is one of the delicacies related to Gwich'in cuisine.  Some people would compare dry meat to jerky. I have never made jerky, but dry meat can taste similar.  It is essentially the process of drying out Caribou meat in order to preserve it.  Dry meat is made a couple different ways depending on the season.  In the winter, racks are constructed within homes and meat is hung.  The drying process caused from the warm dry air within the home generated by a wood stove.  In the summer shelters are made using tarps, then fires are built and left smoldering or smoking while meat hangs nearby.  

Since the subsistence meat has been altered in some way, it is legal for to sell (or so it was explained to me).  Over the past two years I have bought several bags of dry meat.  It has been great for hiking and skiing snacks out on the trail.  Until now, I had not made my own.

During culture week, students visited a station which taught them how to make dry meat.  Despite seeing elders and parents carry out this tradition of food preparation, few had ever made their own.  While snapping photographs, I was invited to sit down and slice my own meat to dry.

I marinated using a broth mixed montreal steak seasoning.  The seasoning added a peppery bite which was really good in the end.  After one day marinating, it was time to dry.  Note: this step was solely added by me, and not a traditional procedure.  Occasionally people will marinate the meat, often using a teriyaki sauce.

Next you need a good rack to hang the meat on.  Many racks are made of thin twigs lashed together, I choose to use my oven rack.

The meat should be left hung for 48-72 hours.  The first day it will drip dry, making a mess underneath.  Every 6-8 hours it should be rotated.

You ask why doesn't the meat become rotten or moldy, since you're just essentially leaving out meat on the counter?  The answer is I'm not really sure.  Maybe because it is thinly sliced.  Maybe because the climate in this part of Alaska has very dry air.

After about two days, begin inspecting the meat closely.  It should look and feel like jerky.  Snapping when folded.  Nearly all brown, without a fleshy or glossy meat look.

My dry meat needed about three days.  The process might occur quicker when a wood stove is nearby making the climate warmer and drier.  Since I live in teacher housing this year, we have a broiler with base boards heating the building.

The ultimate taste test came when I gave a bag to the school cook.  A connoisseur of many dried meats, he at first agreed my meat was peppery, but also unique and delicious.  

“Picture Yourself in a National Park"

This morning, while quietly sipping morning coffee at my desk I was shocked to discover National Geographic used one of my photographs for a feature story on National Parks.  As I scrolled down the website I know and love, I was shocked to recognize a small thumbnail image of my wife.  Beneath the image it said “Picture Yourself in a National Park!”  My jaw dropped, my hands started shaking, I was giddy as can be.  

The photo was taken last summer while touring Yellowstone National Park in June with Gretchen and her sister, Beth Russell.  As we walked around the Old Faithful Geyser scenic trail, this one particular hot spring had a variety of spectacular contrasting vibrant hues. I quickly admired the color comparisons with Gretchen’s jacket and bright red hair. I perched myself upon a bench overlooking her to snap this shot with my D80 at 18mm, f/3.5, 1/1250, ISO100.

http://www.nationalgeographic.com/

http://intelligenttravel.nationalgeographic.com/2012/04/19/picture-yourself-in-a-national-park/

Dancing

Many of the students are familiar with dancing.  They regularly travel to Fairbanks and other cities to compete in large dance gatherings.  Rarely to they all join as one unit and dance together.  Thursday of Culture Camp students dressed and danced about four dances together.  They did the "Caribou Dance", the "Raven Dance", and two other dances I wasn't familiar with.  Enjoy the photos.

 Parents and Elders played drums to keep the rhythm, everyone sang along.

Culture Camp & Spring Carnival

After months and months of cold, dark, inhospitable weather; spring is celebrated in royal fashion. This year Spring Carnival hosted by the village happened concurrently with Culture Camp hosted by the School District.  About twenty students from a variety of surrounding villages came for the week long event.  Days were packed with a many activities to learn about local cultural practices.  Each afternoon carnival activities occurred in the village.  Then nights were filled with BINGO and dancing.  It was nonstop fun all week.  

One of my favorite local traditions is the caribou head skinning competition.  Each participant gets a knife and caribou head.  The first person to skin the head in preparation for cooking over a fire wins.

At Culture Camp we were lucky to have Elders visiting from Fort Yukon, Beaver, Fairbanks, Venetie, and of course Arctic Village.  The students were constantly surrounded with elders to teach traditional knowledge, crafts, and skills.  Sewing was a big event.  Students could make beaded key chains, slippers, or hair pieces.  They also worked on moose skin boots or beaver hats to use in the cold months.

Mary enjoys working with patterns and helping students make boots.  That seemed to be here specialty, among many other things.

Lillian is our Gwich’in language teacher, and master beader.  She created many of the templates used for sewing beaded flowers.

 

In class students learned about many aspects of old Athabascan ways of living.  Gideon taught students about using snowshoes, long before snow machines were around. He also brought several maps to show the boundaries of the tribal land Venetie and Arctic Village own.

The key event each day was learning about caribou.  It seems no matter how far we progress into the future, subsisting will still be a part of life in Arctic Village.

Gideon removes the back strap, or as I like to call it, the filet mignon of the caribou.

 

So many beads, so many colors.

Students spent a morning learning how to make caribou meat.  Many of the students have seen family members preparing meat this way, but not many have had the opportunity to do it themselves.  The key ingredient is thinly slicing the meat.  It can be marinated for flavor, or just used as is.  The meat is typically hung over a drying rack for 2-3 days depending on the warmth of dryness of the space.  In summer months it is often smoked in shelters with a nearby fire in hunting camps.  I was given a package of my own raw meat to try this technique.  I will be posting a another story specifically about the process as it was my first time experimenting.

Charlie taught all the caribou butchering classes.  He has become upset lately seeing subsistance hunters using less and less of the animal.  A quick walk into the countryside and you will find multiple gut piles laying alongside the trail.  In most places they are piled alongside the caribou hides, also rarely ever used.  So the theme for Charlie’s class was the purpose for everything.  He demonstrated a variety of uses for the caribou guts.  The final day we had a garbage bag full of legs.  Guess what caribou legs are used for?  The hide is thickest around the caribous ankles, so the skin is striped and used to make boots.  Learning about caribou is a hands on experience.  Students always got messy.  

Paul Williams Jr., a Gwich’in Language Teacher from Beaver

The final day also meant wrapping up sewing projects.  Nearly all the elders got involved helping students put the finishing touches on boots, hats, and various sewing projects.

Despite a week of celebration and gathering, there’s always time for one last dance.  The community hall was a rockin’ place nearly every night.  Park your snow machine where ever you can find a spot, grab your dancing slippers, and come in.  

The gorgeous Brooks Range, still glowing around 10:30pm.

The Arctic Village Band with Wilbert Kendi plays blues, ballads, and jigs into the wee hours of the night.  As long as people keep dancing, they keep playing!