My life in Artic Village - Walter Duane Eagar
This is a history that my dad, Walter Duane Eagar, wrote about our family's experience in Artic Village Alaska in 1965-1966. Let me know what you think?
My Life in Artic Village Alaska 1965-1966
By Walter Duane Eagar
August 17th, 1929 to June 2nd, 2012
THE CALL OF THE WILD
by: Robert Service
Have you gazed on naked grandeur where there's nothing else to gaze on,
Set pieces and drop-curtain scenes galore,
Big mountains heaved to heaven, which the blinding sunsets blazon,
Black canyons where the rapids rip and roar?
Have you swept the visioned valley with the green stream streaking through it,
Searched the Vastness for a something you have lost?
Have you strung your soul to silence? Then for God's sake go and do it;
Hear the challenge, learn the lesson, pay the cost.
Have you wandered in the wilderness, the sagebrush desolation,
The bunch-grass levels where the cattle graze?
Have you whistled bits of rag-time at the end of all creation,
And learned to know the desert's little ways?
Have you camped upon the foothills, have you galloped o'er the ranges,
Have you roamed the arid sun-lands through and through?
Have you chummed up with the mesa? Do you know its moods and changes?
Then listen to the Wild -- it's calling you.
Have you known the Great White Silence, not a snow-gemmed twig aquiver?
(Eternal truths that shame our soothing lies.)
Have you broken trail on snowshoes? mushed your huskies up the river,
Dared the unknown, led the way, and clutched the prize?
Have you marked the map's void spaces,
Felt the savage strength of brute in every thew?
And though grim as hell the worst is, can you round it off with curses? Then hearken to the Wild -- it's wanting you.
INTRODUCTION AND SETTING
The ski planes landed us on this frozen river (East Fork of the Chandlar)
As the photo below shows, the village at noon is dark but bathed in moonlight as is so often the case during the Arctic winter’s 24 hours, two months long nights.
The river is frozen three feet thick with just a little covering of snow over everything and The temperature is minus 30 degrees F.
The nights were clear most of the time so the stars were very bright and there was a phenomenon called noctilucent clouds and, of course, often the Arora Borealis, with its very spectacular displays. It was like a moving panorama of shifting colors and strange, weird sounds and crackles as the Van Allen Belt interacted with the solar wind. Of course, many strange phenomena do occur here at the magnetic north pole of the earth. In fact, however unexplainable, it felt like I was surrounded by spiritual forces; invisible, but very tangible.
I would like to continue from here but truth is, our adventure did not begin here; so I must go back to the real beginning of our Arctic experience, back in Hurricane, Utah:
RECAPITULATION (take it from the top)
THE JOURNEY
In 1964 I was working in Hurricane, Utah as a Special Reading Teacher. I had been working in this capacity in Salt Lake City and here in Hurricane for about five years. I was feeling restless and unhappy with my life at that time and felt that I needed a change, to broaden my horizons, so to speak.
I decided to check the job placement board at the Brigham Young University
There I found an opening for a Principal-Teacher at Arctic Village, Alaska. I felt that maybe our 49th state might provide what I was seeking. I applied and was surprised to be accepted for that position, so the adventure began.
To tell the truth, I don’t recall exactly how we all got to Salt Lake City for the first leg of our journey, perhaps it will come back to me. Anyway, our schedule, worked out by the Bureau of Indian Affairs, took us from Salt Lake City to Seattle, Washington where we would get outfitted with what we would need in the way of warm clothing, boots, parkas, and some food supplies. I believe this took a couple of days to get squared away with what we would need and get it packed for our trip.
The flight to Alaska took several separate plane trips. It was a hassle, of course getting our entire family (six children) on and off the plane each time. You might call that part of the adventure, but not particularly the enjoyable part.
We first landed in Juneau, Alaska where we had a layover for a day and night as I recall. I remember the people there were so friendly like they had known you all their lives. It wasn’t particularly frigid temperatures there so we didn’t have to don our Arctic weather gear. When we embarked again it was in a small prop-driven plane bound for Whitehorse, Canada. There after an hour or two, we were on our way again to Fairbanks, Alaska in an Airforce plane that we shared with a basketball team heading for a game in Fairbanks. It was a bit of a cool and turbulent flight at low altitude so no oxygen or pressure adjustment was needed. Fortunately, it was a rather short flight. The boys in the team were quite rowdy but friendly and humorous.
In Fairbanks, the Superintendent for the Yukon Flats School District met us and quickly put us on two Cessna 180s bound for our destination: Arctic Village. It took two planes to carry all of us plus our supplies and gear, including my 300 Savage deer rifle, hunting knife, cartridges, and even archery set with eight hunting arrows and snowshoes. I had shot a deer with a bow and arrow during an archery hunt in Southern Utah so was confident that I could do the same to bag a caribou. How I was disillusioned there is another story.
Again, referring to the photo above you may observe that Arctic Village at noonday in February (still in the grip of Arctic night) had plenty of light to greet our arrival! This was due to the reflecting snow and the bright moonlight, but it was early springtime when we landed there and the sun had been returning since the middle of January (three minutes per day) heralding the beginning of the “Midnight-Sun.”
REACHING OUR DESTINATION
The Superintendent had accompanied us there and when we all disembarked it was quite a heartwarming experience to be greeted by all the native people who were so excited to have us come to their village.
We landed the ski planes on the frozen Chandler River where the ice had frozen about three feet thick and everything was covered with a thin mantle of snow.
The Superintendent, Mrs. Thomas, took us to the school where we were shown our quarters and facilities then introduced us to our helpers: Christian Tritt, Custodian, mechanic, and technician.
(To provide electricity for the school we had a diesel generator which was kept running constantly except for occasional maintenance.)
Mrs. Thomas then introduced us to some of the ladies who would help with the school lunch and coordinate and communicate with the townspeople.
The second photo below is of a much older time but like the one we experienced and will give some idea of the log cabin construction as seen in this old Episcopal Church which was still in use when we were there in 1964.
TRAGIC ACCIDENT
About two weeks into our settling in at Arctic Village our Superintendent returned to pack up and haul out the previous teacher’s goods that he had left behind. They consisted mostly of foodstuff and some clothing. She loaded lots of canned goods onto the little Cessna and prepared to fly back to Fairbanks. I told her I thought the plane was somewhat overloaded, but what did I know? Anyway, there was a tragedy as she and her pilot were both killed trying to climb over the pass. It seems their wings iced up and they didn’t have enough lift to clear the mountain. I always felt I should have been more insistent about my apprehension about the plane being overloaded. I should have insisted that she leave part of the canned goods there even if I had to purchase them from the previous teacher.
That was a sad beginning for us and certainly for the village people who knew and respected both for their years of service and help.
Above My wife: VerDawn Hickman
Jessie Dawn holding Allison, Lee, Mark, Grant, David, and me, holding the fish.
James holding David and Jessie holding Allison
We organized our living space with beds for the kids and us. Then we set up the kitchen with what food and utensils were on hand. We also arranged our small bathroom with what supplies were available.
The classroom was one large room with windows on two sides and lit by fluorescent lighting. There were ample tables and chairs with some small desks. There was one large chalkboard and some audio-visual equipment like a 16 mm. movie projector, a slide projector a record player, and a reel-to-reel tape recorder. There was an abundance of text and workbooks, notebooks, writing paper, and pencils.
I organized the classroom so that the older students could help the younger ones while I worked with reading group instruction etc. In this way, learning activities were provided and ongoing for each age group.
My children of school age were also enrolled. They were: James, Jessie, Mark, and Lee. I think David was later part of the Head Start group.
The village people were actively involved in our activities and were a great help. Some of the women helped prepare snacks and school lunches for the students. We had an abundance of USDA (United States Department of Agriculture) food supplies. There was flour, beans, rice, raisins in large boxes, butter salted in barrels of brine, and cans of yams and peanut butter. So, along with what the people could provide from their hunting and fishing on occasion, there was plenty of food to work with and to contribute when preparing for potlatches and other village activities such as birthdays, Christmas parties, etc.
BIRTH OF ALLISON REBECCA
A couple of months into our Arctic Village experience it came time for our next child to be born, so anticipating the event I sent my wife (VerDawn) to Fairbanks to stay with members of our Church (LDS) about a week before she expected to deliver the child. She gave birth on schedule to a baby girl whom we named Allison Rebecca Eagar. Born April 6, 1965. The village people made quite a fuss over a new baby born in their village. After a time, I became worried about Allison because her head seemed to be somewhat deformed. For this reason, I took her to Fairbanks to have a doctor see if her development was normal. This was a flight that necessitated a stop in Fort Yukon and so while we were in the lodge there a native lady noticed the baby did not have anything covering her hands as they stuck out of her little parka suit. Anyway, she took the little suit and sewed up the sleeves so her hands would be protected.
We proceeded to Fairbanks where the doctor assured me that there was nothing wrong with the baby’s development. The next day we returned to Arctic village again using the mail plane.
ABOUT THE PEOPLE
Evidence from archaeological investigations indicates that the Arctic Village area may have been settled as early as 4500 BC.[4] Around 500 AD the Athabascan-speaking Gwich’in people (often called Neets'aii Gwich'in or “those who dwell to the north”)[4] came into the area with seasonal hunting and fishing camps. About 1900. the village became a permanent settlement.
These people were a branch of the widespread Athabascan Indian Culture. They were closely related to the Navajo and Apache cultures of the Southwest. This was particularly apparent in their language and physical appearance. They lived in small log cabins and heated their homes with the stunted spruce trees which grew there in the Arctic. This necessitated their having and using dog teams and sleds to haul wood, water, and meat home to the village.
Their way of life depended heavily upon the caribou and fishing and trapping also. In the summer they caught fish with regular fishing poles
FISHING THROUGH THE ICE
In winter they fished through the ice. This was accomplished by chopping a hole about two feet in diameter down to near the water level then punching a smaller hole through to the water below. When they did this the water would spurt up like a fountain for a time until the pressure was equalized.
When they had a hole through the ice they would “jig” to attract and catch fish (mostly Arctic Grayling). They used conventional spinners and lures like daredevils and mepths lures which they would bait with a piece of white jaw meat from a fish they had caught. They would catch mostly grayling (much like trout) but occasionally also a lingcod or pike.
I enjoyed going out with them to catch fish for my own family. It was an exciting activity for me as I have always enjoyed fishing. Whenever I caught a fish and pulled it up onto the ice I would throw it down and it would freeze like a piece of firewood. When I got ready to go home, I just stacked them up in my arms and took them home to clean and cook. Grayling was a very good fish. They were very fat and with no scales to speak of it was easy to clean and cook them.
FIRST CARIBOU HUNT
Whenever I could I accompanied the men out to hunt the caribou which were never very far from the village. This also helped to feed my family and was a great sport for me. I had a 300 Savage deer rifle which was very effective for bringing down a caribou. The Indians laughed at me calling me “John Wayne” because I would wear my cartridge belt full of bullets around my parka.
On one occasion I went with them out to the frozen lake to hunt. There was a sizable herd of caribou milling around so we shot several animals, (about four as I recall). Then cleaned and skinned them. I was amazed that they could do this with their bare hands because it was about 30 degrees below zero. If you spit it would freeze before it reached the ground and your nose hairs would be stiff and tickling. Anyway, they would warm their hands every little while inside the carcass and in that way be able to get the job done.
Before leaving the animals, they had butchered they would cover the remaining meat up with the hides of the animals so the crows or ravens would not mess on them to ruin the meat.
On this occasion, they got ready to leave when to their surprise one of the cow caribou was still lying there unharmed but asleep. I told them not to shoot her but to let her get up and move off with the rest of the herd which she did. It seems that the caribou make a loud cracking sound with their ankle bones when they walk so, often they are not even spooked by the loud gunfire.
THE CARTRIDGE WOULD FIRE
On another occasion, I was asked by old George Tritt if I would go with him out to the edge of the village where he had seen some caribou recently. It seems that he was out of ammunition and so needed my help which I was very glad to offer him. Anyway, we went out about a half-mile from the village, and, sure enough, there was a small herd of caribou quietly moving along. We came up to a small ravine where we could look across without disturbing them. George told me to choose a fat cow and bring her down and we would then butcher her and carry as much meat as we could back to the village.
I sighted in on the animal we had selected and squeezed the trigger but to my annoyance, nothing happened. It was just too cold and the firing pin would not move fast enough to fire the cartridge. Well, George knew how to fix that, so I took the bolt out and we heated it over a little fire we made with dry spruce limbs. Upon sliding it back in I took aim again and this time it fired and the animal fell. I had shot it through the heart.
Now, at this point, I don’t think I could stand to shoot any animal. It was a different situation then as the caribou meat and hides were essential to their way of life and probably still are. We packed as much meat as we could back to be shared by the village. He was planning on coming back with a dog team to bring in the rest of it.
In this natural deep freeze, nothing would spoil as long as the predators and ravens were kept from disturbing it. George gave me a good-sized chunk of meat which I took home and prepared a feast for my family. Below: A typical dog team and sled ready: Mush! Mush!
DUTIES AND RESPONSIBILITIES
My daily routine as Principal-teacher was to first stand by on the radio to advise the mail plane or whoever might be flying to Arctic Village how the weather conditions were there: Cloud height (ceiling) wind conditions or storms etc.
Next, I would make sure the classroom was clean and warm. This done I would review my lesson plans and layout the books and supplies needed for each age group. When the ladies came from the village to prepare the snacks or food to be served to the students, I would help them find the supplies and cooking utensils they might need.
During the times when I had a teacher aide or helper, I would brief them on the planned activities and schedule of instruction for the day. Thus, the school year moved right along and we had several visiting teams from Fairbanks who came to do dental check-ups and to do dental work needed by the students as well as doing what was needed for the parents and village people as well.
Because there had been several cases of tuberculosis a team came out to do testing and to take the ones infected back to the hospital for treatment. I think I may have been mildly infected then because a few years later when given a tuberculin test I reacted positively. An X-ray showed a tiny bit of damage but later-on in life whenever I had the test again it was always negative.
This was the era of various programs instituted by President Kennedy such as Head start and the job corps and youth corps. We had a young man from New York who came out to volunteer in the youth corps. I don’t know exactly what his assignment was, but he was very amiable and had a wonderful sense of humor. He was not interested in the hunting or fishing opportunities, being from the “big city” I guess.
SHOWING ARMY TRAINING FILMS
I found out that I had free access to all the “war movies” or training films that were made during the Second World War so all I had to do was order them and they were shipped out to me. Almost every week I would get a new batch of them and show them for the people to enjoy. Besides being entertaining they had a great deal of educational value. They provided educational and cultural learning experiences for the folks in Arctic Village. Many had been so isolated and sheltered all of their lives from places, people, and events of the outside world, so to speak. Now things have changed almost unbelievably due to the oil pipeline and all that came with it. They are almost cosmopolitan now by contrast.
POTLATCHES AND DANCES
With the isolation that the winter “deep freeze” brought the village settled in for a long period of relative inactivity and perhaps boredom. This was alleviated however by many potlatches and celebrations. These were held in the school, of course, so we did not miss any of the activities. There were plenty of refreshments except for alcoholic beverages as they were outlawed in the village, but there were cakes, cookies, and a lot of good meat cooked in a number of ways.
The village band consisted of a fiddle player and a guitar player who also kept up a steady rhythm by stomping his foot. The music had been passed down from the days of the French Fur traders and was a lot like Irish jigs and reels. The village folks vied with each other with or without partners to do some fancy stepping. They even got me onto the floor occasionally to jig around a bit but without a partner. I don’t know why that was unless it was pure shyness on both of our parts.
THE BIG FREEZE
With this winter came the coldest weather on record. Our school water systems all got frozen and even a team of maintenance workers from Fairbanks could not restore them during that 60 plus degrees below zero time.
We had to use an out-house style toilet and hand carry all the water we used in and out. As you may well imagine this was a most difficult time for our family, but life goes on and the school was never closed either. The situations remained like that until the Spring-time thaw enabled another crew to come and completely rebuild the water systems and insulate them against such a freeze-up in the future.
REMOVING MITTENS – ALMOST FATAL
During that winter I had a close call with what could have meant a life-threatening experience. One day, feeling restless, I decided to take a hike up the frozen river for a mile or two. It was a bright, frosty day and when I say frosty I mean it was, like forty below, anyway that didn’t bother me as I was swaddled in my cold-weather gear complete with huge beaver fur mittens, mukluks (boots), and warm parka with a fur hood. I felt warm enough, even a bit too warm to the extent that my glasses were steaming up. I thought I better take them off so I can see better, but to do so I had to remove my mittens. That was almost a fatal mistake because once my mittens were off my hands almost froze to where I could not move my fingers. I was beginning to panic and to feel a lot of pain. It immobilized me to the extent that I almost fainted and needed to lean against a small spruce for support. I don’t remember just how I managed to slide my hands and arms back into those mittens. Perhaps using my teeth and one hand at a time to guide the other hand into the mittens. One problem was that they were too tight-fitting, so it was a real struggle and all the while my hands were feezing more and more. I finally succeeded in getting them back on and, as you can well imagine, headed back to the village immediately.
ASSIGNMENT HEADSTART
When Springtime fully arrived with almost continuous sunlight, I was given the assignment to go to the Alaska College, near Fairbanks to attend a seminar. It was in preparation for setting up a Head Start program as part of our school offering for the community. I attended this seminar and learned various techniques for preparing the preschoolers with readiness activities such as self-awareness, rhythm and movement exercises, English language experience, etc. to prepare them to adjust more successfully when they were later taught to read and write and speak English. My roommate, there was a Navajo man who was also a teacher and had been educated at Chemawa, Oregon a boarding school for the more advanced Indian students from all tribes who were served by the Bureau of Indian Affairs Schools. I enjoyed visiting with him and perhaps formed a desire to teach Navajo children because of his acquaintance. Which, of course, I did much later on in my teaching career.
There was one experience I had that stands out in my memory. You must remember that this was the time of the midnight sun, so it was daylight all the time. Anyway, I had taken a nap as I supposed in the afternoon and awoke thinking it was time for our dinner or evening meal so I went down to the cafeteria to see if I had missed it and was surprised to discover that it was not evening but the next morning and I had missed not only dinner the night before but breakfast as well. At least that is the way I remember it now and I may have it the other way around for all I can tell at this time.
FIRST TRIP TO OLD JOHN LAKE
During that summer I made a trip with the Indians up over the mountain to Old John Lake. A sizable body of water about four miles wide and some eight miles long. We took our bedding and supplies packed on dogs and proceeded up to the top of the nearby mountain called Shenjic. At that place, we found the tent and supplies the Indians always kept set up there as a place to watch for the caribou herds moving through the country. There was a brass telescope and cooking utensils, some staple food supplies, and blankets.
We left that area and came to an outlook or vantage point looking down towards Old John Lake. Here we were met by some people from Norway who were hiking across to Canada. They were fascinated by a small herd of caribou that were crossing beneath us at not a great distance.
The man from Norway asked me if I could shoot a caribou so we could share it and have camp meat for our journey. I aimed at a young bull and brought him down but they were disappointed that I didn’t shoot the big bull with an impressive set of antlers.
Anyway, we butchered the animal and carried what meat we wanted back up to the tent meaning to retrieve it on our way back to the village the next day. We then proceeded to the shore of Old John Lake and cooked some meat and rested for a while.
Then we got into this leaky old boat and headed across the lake. We stopped at a point where the fishing was good and caught lots of big arctic char. They were like Dolly Vardan trout. They had a flattish head and some whiskers like a catfish. We also caught some lingcod and pike.
With as many fish as we could carry, we set out for our destination to make camp for the night. The Indians made a fire and cooked some of the fish by threading a willow up through them and leaning the willow over the fire or coals to cook. I noticed that they didn’t bother to clean them or cut off their heads like I was used to doing. It seemed like a natural way to cook them and they tasted delicious.
We rolled out the bedding and I immediately sensed that it was going to be a very cold night. To keep warm I heated a couple of stones in the fire and tucked them into the bottom of my makeshift sleeping bag. That turned out to be a horrible mistake because my sheets started to smoke and catch on fire. I quickly rolled the stones out and after they cooled for a while I put them back in wrapped in a sheet. This time they were fine and I slept relatively WARM.
It seemed odd to me that the Indians chopped the green cottonwood trees for our fire and they burned very well despite being green,
ASSIGNMENT - CACHE
The next morning, we proceeded to do what we had come over there to do which was to make caches. One for each of them and they insisted that I construct one for myself as well. A cache was a platform tied in place high enough up between three trees that were close together.
Our purpose was to be able to place necessary items for survival there secured by a tarp and placed high enough that the animals could not get to it. At each cache site, we placed cards encased in plastic designating whose cache it was. The main purpose of this exercise was to secure the lake and its vicinity for the exclusive use of the Indians. This was deemed necessary due to the incursion of guides with floatplanes that would bring game hunters and fishermen to that spot and spoil it for the natives.
OLD JOHN LAKE
With our mission accomplished at Old John Lake, we headed back across the lake to Arctic Village. The weather had gotten cold and rainy and there was a stiff wind blowing against us as we tried to row back across the lake. The boat was leaking so badly that one of us had to bail water out continuously.
We took turns on the oars. One on each oar so we could maximize our power to combat the force of the wind. After what seemed like two hours, we reached the cabin on the far side of the Lake and found to our comfort that the Norwegians had left some packages of instant coffee and hot chocolate.
After a rest and some refreshment, we continued back to the village. My stint at the oars had injured my forearm to the extent that it became increasingly painful. At length when it didn’t get better, I made a trip into Fairbanks on the mail plane and went to see a doctor. I had torn and irritated the nerves in the muscle sheath and that was stopping the healing process.
The doctor. gave me some cortisone shots in the injured area and I returned to Arctic Village by way of Fort Yukon. In a week or so I was able to feel relief and was able to use my arm again.
TENT DESTROYED BY RAMPAGING GRIZZLY BEAR AT OLD JOHN LAKE
Attempt to go to old john lake alone-tent destroyed by rampaging grizzly bear – night alone on “bear mountain”
I had another adventure in connection with the tent on the mountain. Becoming restless again I decided to go back to Old John Lake by myself and thought I could camp in the tent on the mountain that I mentioned before. Unfortunately, when I reached the tent I beheld to my horror that a grizzly bear had ransacked it.
I suppose he smelled some of the meat we had left hanging there. To sum it up, he had destroyed that tent completely. So, there was no place for me to stay out of the weather. There was nothing else for me to do but head back to the village.
I attempted to return home but kept falling into the muskeg and swamp water and was getting very wet and cold. On top of that, it began to rain, so there I was without any shelter and unable to reach the village. I could see the lights from the school and even hear the generator running but it may as well have been on the other side of the moon. I realized that I had to give up and take shelter the best I could and perhaps make a small fire to keep warm.
Stumbling around a while more I discovered a large spruce tree that had been blown over by the wind and under the root base was a small cavity that would accommodate me. I built a small fire and tried to dry myself and sleep. I must have drifted off for the next thing I remember was looking down to the school and realizing that it was already morning. After some more time stumbling along but not finding a trail, I reached the village and was so happy to be back in the bosom of my family. I might just mention also that during the night I heard some loons crying to each other but not knowing what made that awful noise I just prayed that it wasn’t the bear or some wolves prowling around.
LITTLE DAVID – ALMOST SCALPED
About this same time my son David had a bad accident and I had to rush him into Fairbanks. He and his older brother were having a tussle on the upper bunk of their bunk beds and David fell off landing headfirst on a sharp metal edge of a trunk. The fall had torn his scalp back exposing the skull bone for a space of about three inches. My wife was horrified but I was able to get on the radio and contact an air force plane flying in the vicinity. He agreed to land on our narrow airstrip and we hustled him and his mother (VerDawn) down to meet the plane.
All went well there and the Dr. was able to reattach his scalp so that there left almost no scar or sign of the injury.
MY WIFE’S STAY IN FAIRBANKS FOR DENTAL WORK
In the Autumn time, my wife (VerDawn) began to complain about so much toothache that it became almost unbearable. I decided to send her into Fairbanks to stay with some of our LDS Church members again and arrange for her dental work to be done. She stayed over there for about a week and returned with a set of dentures, so the end of her toothaches.
A FOOLISH ATTEMPT ON SNOW SHOWS TO FOLLOW A HERD OF CARIBOU
It is funny what strange things we do on the spur of the moment which has very serious consequences. I had carried with me up to Arctic Village my archery set of six hunting-tipped arrows and a very strong bow. The arrows fit into a plastic holder that clipped onto the bow so I didn’t have to carry them in a quiver. My intent on this beautiful early spring day was to see if I could get close enough to a herd of caribou to shoot one. The snow was that crystalline blue characteristic of that time of year when the snow turns into individual ice crystals. Well, I crept up as close as I could to the caribou but they, wise as they were, kept just out of reach even though I expended all my arrows in the vain hope that I could arch one over and hit a caribou. I was wearing snowshoes and that was a bad idea because I had no experience walking very far in them. Now with my exertion from chasing the caribou, I began to be in real trouble. It was due to my legs (calves and thighs) going into spasms.
At length, I could not walk at all and fell back into a snowbank to rest and massage my leg muscles. After about a half-hour or more I was able to restore function to my muscles sufficient to hobble back to the village. But you can see what a precarious situation I would have been in had I not been able to get back on my feet.
I was so independent and sure of myself that it didn’t seem important to me to tell anyone where I was going. I cannot believe now how foolish I was then.
It’s like the old saying: “fools rush in where angels fear to tread.” That’s been my story for so much of my life and perhaps I only survived because I had a very patient, long-suffering angel watching over me.
HELPING MY MAINTENANCE MAN (CHRISTIAN TRITT) OBTAIN A SNOWMOBILE
My Maintenance man, Christian was very interested in trying to obtain a snowmobile for his use and to help the village. I looked into the possibility of getting a grant from the BIA (Bureau of Indian Affairs) to enable him to have one delivered out to him in Arctic Village. Much to our joy, my appeal was granted and within a couple of weeks, Christian was the proud owner of a snowmobile.
REASON FOR ESTABLISHING A PERMANENT SETTLEMENT
Becoming a permanent settlement was necessary to obtain a school for the village. For this reason, the people had to give up their migrations following the caribou and they became a settled community enabling them to have a church (Episcopal) and a school for their children.
Life was never the same for them after that because with stores and mail planes bringing in supplies also came white sugar for their tea and candy for their children. Consequently, when I came on the scene most of the young adults had lost their front teeth to decay and didn’t look like young people anymore. Before this time when the people lived on fish, caribou, and wild berries, etc. there was practically no incidence of tooth decay.
To cut short my narrative I will just conclude by saying that the time came when it became too difficult for us as a family to continue our Arctic Adventure. We left the Arctic much the way we came first by an air force transport then by jet airlines from Fairbanks home to Utah
I have to say in praise of my wife (VerDawn) that she served her mission up there very well. She was endowed with the spirit of Elijah, so to speak and couldn’t rest until she had compiled a genealogy or family group record for as many of the native people who would work with her in this endeavor. When we returned to Utah, she presented it to the Church Genealogical Department and it became part of their voluminous archive of information.
She bore up under the tribulations and my foolish behavior at times and was a good mother to our seven children and was always kind and good to the native people and enjoyed associating with them.
Poems About Alaska
Old Mary Gilbert of Arctic Village
By: Walter Duane Eagar
Old Mary was failing
She would not last
Another winter ooh! So cold!
Hers had been the good life
As Neets’aii gwitch’in
But now so fast
Body and mind within
Had grown so old!
No regret or ever now complain
About the weather or the pain
Children with grandchildren
Played around her knees
Sleeping and waking she would often ask:
Whose are all of these?
At times she would appear
To wake from pleasant dreams
And ask about her husband
Gone out now with his teams
She asked again
as in that long time past
Did he bring the unborn caribou calf?
To nourish me at last?
She had followed him
Over all this land, they say
And bore him children
Along the way.
Though some – too frail
Had sadly passed away.
Old Mary died in the winter of 1966
And slept until the spring – in a room
By the chapel.
Remembering Old John Tritt
by Walter Duane Eagar
Tough as a boiled owl
Just a boyhood expression
But old John was this tough and more
How many nights he had slept in the snow?
With only his caribou robe for cover
He was a proud Gwitch’in
Neets’aii Gwitch’ in Kutchin
He knew this land from the Yukon Flats
To the mushers of Nome
From the mountains of the Shenjic
To the peaks of Denali
It was rumored he had once been
A witch Doctor or Shaman
And could appear or disappear at will
He bragged about this harsh land
That held no mystery or fear for him
Wife or companion he had no need
Just didn’t hang around that long
Until now!
He was slowing down and
Felt the cold
Gone was his desire
For Yukon gold
Now found comfort for his pain
Aging joints cried out
With every shower of rain
Coming home at last
Sought shelter from the blast
And comfort with his kin
Seeing, listening, yes! we’ll remember him.
I’m sure Old John is gone now and sleeps among all the ones he loved.
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