1) Working For A Living

The door to my classroom after a snowy windstorm

At the moment, I live in Tuntutuliak, a Yup'ik village in western Alaska some 450 miles from the closest road that actually connects to the rest of the world. I'm an interim teacher filling in for someone who became too ill to work any more.  There are rumors of a newly minted teacher willing to come out soon and take over my class of seven 7th graders. I'm booked to fly back to the Alaska of trees, traffic, commerce and friends in three weeks.  I may not have to change that reservation.

As a semi-retired teacher, long-term substituting provides the time and funds necessary to maintain a certain lifestyle . I've remodeled my house, traveled on five continents, and have what toys that I need to enjoy the skiing, kayaking, biking and other outdoor activities abundant in Alaska. This is my second assignment this school year.  With the proceeds,  I hope to get to Africa and then maybe to India, Bhutan and Burma.  We shall see.

For better or worse, I am starting to daydream about my post-village life.  When I return to the Kenai Peninsula, I hope to have a good month or two of being a ski bum.  I'm thinking about being able to have a glass of wine for dinner, an option not allowed in this dry village. I want to enjoy mornings of unrushed coffee and unlimited laughter with friends.

But I'm here now and that's good too.

You can't stumble upon Tuntutuliak, Kasigluk Akiuk, Goodnews Bay or some of the other villages where I have worked. There has to be some sort of intention and purpose. There are no roads, no cars, no restaurants, no theaters. Nothing.  It's tundra here; spin around and for all 360 degrees, there is no vertical to mar the horizontal. Surprisingly, at some 20 miles from a bay of the Bering Sea, tidal changes are very evident in Tunt. Before we escaped from the most bitterly cold stretch of winter that the area has had in decades, the hydraulics of the incoming water constantly changed the Kinak River.  Twice a day, as the ice would rise and then fall again, perpendicular cracks would hinge the surface and allow for expansion and contraction.  The banks provide a visual representation of plate tectonics in action with pressure ridges jutting as razorback teeth some 2 meters high.

Now that normal winter temps have returned, the overflow seeping up from cracks no longer freezes instantly.  Channels of overflow make it difficult for those on foot or skis to access the ice trail in the middle of the river.  The perimeter ice forms as crystallized gossamer wings. The river takes on different characteristics hourly.  The locals don't have running water and everyday you see fathers and sons chopping ice into sleds or skimming the overflow into buckets for use at home.

As soon as I post this, I'll put on my skate skis and travel the snowgo trail towards Bethel.  Maybe I'll make it out five miles before I turn around.  It's rare that the wind isn't the deciding factor determining time and distance out on the tundra.  I'm hoping to fight the wind early, making my return, well, a breeze.