Nunaurluq

This last week was filled with fun and challenge. We took 60 high schoolers out to the tundra, nunapik, to camp before school was to begin in earnest. Monday, the kids got all their stuff together so we could leave early on Tuesday. Planning to leave at about 9AM, we left Chevak, Cev'aq, at a little after 1PM, which put us just at high tide. Good!

As a platoon of boats, we went down the Ningliqvak from Chevak out into Hooper Bay. All the rivers in this area are meandering rivers, meaning that travel by boat might make a 5 mile distance as the crow flies 15 miles or longer by boat. As we went down the river, I got myself comfortable in the bow of the little boat 5 of us were in. Joining me in the front was another student, Mik. Mik turned to me and said, "Eight more bends until the bay." Then, after I had lost count, he renewed the count at "Three." It truly amazes me how many locals have all these lands all mapped out in their minds.

Mik also shared some stories about hunting seals in this area. They'll spot a seal, chase it, shoot it, and then spear it (which is especially important in fresh water because otherwise the seal may sink only to be lost). Hunters must give their catch away for the first 5 seals to elders. Then, they are considered a "nukalpiaq", an expert hunter, and can keep the catch for themselves and their family. I wonder if they would give any of it away.

After vrooming along the shores of the bay for a while, we went up another river and eventually a small slough, kuigaar, which served as a short cut to another river. There, we got out of our boats and the drivers discussed options for camping. I don't know why they chose the spot they did but we got back in the boats and went up river a mere 2 minutes before setting up camp.

That evening I had one of the best runs of my life. I took the xcountry runners for an hour long run. Since the tide was going out, many of us took off our shoes and socks and ran barefoot along the muddy shores. We'd often run across tiny sloughs that were about 5 feet deep but empty of water. I loved striding one foot into the slough, having my foot sink deep in the mud, and splashing the mud all over. We continued along until we reached a big slough about 30 feet across. We really enjoyed hanging out there. We jumped into the water, swam across, and played in the mud. The mud offered an extraordinarily fun slip and slid into the water. When I crossed back over, I noticed some red droplets on the ground. I asked, "Is someone bleeding." Sam, I believe, promptly answered, "Oh, that's the bird I caught." Evidently he had chanced upon a bird and caught it by hand. Wow! So he carried it all the way back to camp. Yummy, fresh bird stew.

Although we were going to camp there for 3 nights and return to Chevak on Friday, the weather turned and that added with the stress of managing 60+ students we decided to go back. Whatever you do in this region depends on nature's time table. We took down camp and waited. Waited for what? For high tide to come, silly. So, we left camp around 10PM. Entering the slough, we often had to turn off the motor and row, row, row the boat gently down the stream. Finally it became very intense finding our way into the Ningliqvak to get back to Chevak. If the boat goes to the wrong spots out in the bay, it could easily get stuck in the mud. And by this time, it was midnight and was quite dark. But we made it thanks to some people who went up quickly and coached us in by their lights and CB.

We returned to Chevak at about 2AM and many kids with their 4-wheelers met us there to help run load and people to their homes. High school was cancelled for the next day, but we had a normal day on Friday.

It was great to get out on the tundra-nunapik-and go to some old sites. In particular, we went to Nunaurluq "Poor land", which as the story goes was home to the Cuut until a Japanese box fell and got many, esp. children, sick in the mid 1940s ca. WWII. John, my coworker and a highly respected figure in the village, shared a story of a Catholic missionary who lived there. I forget his name but it started with Father...The story was of him out hunting with a local guy by motor boat, with perhaps a 7HP engine. The driver, a local, had troubles driving him into shore as the Father was preparing to shoot a bird, a moose, or something.

Piurci