Part One: Waiting for the Weather to Break in a Village By the Sea
KAKTOVIK, May 19 - June 7
Photos are click-to-enlarge.
May 19
John arrives in Kaktovik, an Inupiat village on the coast of the Beaufort Sea. The weather is very cold and foggy, with  high temperatures at minus 20 degrees with the wind chill. His plans to stay with a local resident fall through, and John has to scramble to find a place to stay. The only hotel in the small village has not yet opened for "the season." One woman offers to let him sleep in a trailer next to her house. The journal begins:
It's about a 35' by 8' shipping container. Like the big ones loaded on huge cargo ships. No heat, bath, or water, but it's airtight. This will be home until Walt (John's pilot) arrives.
May 24
Midnight. Reading Margaret Murie's Two in the Far North. Very glad to be in a warm sleeping bag. A balmy 10 below zero, with the wind a steady howl.
May 26
 Standing by the beautifully warm fuel heater in the trailer as I write. I got it running yesterday for the first time. Hadn't bothered before. I figured I'd better get used to the weather. But at ten below, heat feels good.
Today's lesson: Insure your mail. All the boxes have arrived, except one. It contains: three tents, first aid kit, camp chair, various camping supplies, boots. Somehow, I chose not to insure it or pay the extra buck to track it.
Such irony in this mail trouble. Reading Margaret Murie's book now makes this more apparent. Just 80 years ago, the only mail deliveries north of Fairbanks were by dogsled. Kaktovik consisted of three sod houses. Now when I lose one box, I call 800 numbers to order gear to arrive in a few days. I could order a pineapple. Three days a week, I can walk over to a little strip of asphalt, wave a little piece of plastic, and land in Fairbanks in 90 minutes. That trip, a few decades ago, took a month.
I sat tonight in a warm room, tummy full of oatmeal cookies to mellow my soul, and watched a PBS documentary about Indonesian wildlife. Folks can wail about the impending doom of a world moving too fast. I am optimistic. I wasn't always. But I decided a few years ago to live, love, share, and do my best.
May 31
I talked with a few folks today. Most people are quite clear in their opinion about the Arctic Refuge: Open it to oil development. Their money here comes entirely from oil revenue. People see great opportunities for more money. So drill. Simple.
Snowed a few inches last night. Still snowing now. But it's warmer, and no wind. A brilliant, white day. Glad I invested in a pair of sunglasses.
This place seems to me such a mix of American and Inupiat culture. For example, many people have left for a vacation. They're flying to Seattle or Las Vegas. Many go for a month or more. But others are out in the refuge hunting ducks. They can still get around on snowmobiles, and the ducks are just starting to arrive.
June 4
A little snow fell last night. My new camping supplies arrived on the plane this morning. Walt may fly in today. I need to repack, seam-seal three new tents, and organize all the gear for the whole summer. Hope to fly in this weekend.
June 6
Sun came out a little today. Strange to see the sun maybe 10 minutes per day when the sun doesn't set until August.
Walt arrived with the plane - a Cessna 207. He flew to Caribou Pass to drop fuel and scout the area. All snow. He could land only at that one strip because it was clear. It was the only brown patch of land out there. He saw a few caribou, but not many. They're probably still in the hills, busy with calving. This late winter has delayed their normal movements by about 10 days.
Aside from a missing pair of boots, I'm ready to go. The boots should have been here by now. I ordered them nine days ago from Fairbanks by second-day air. My old ones were lost in the missing box.
The sun may melt the snow within a couple of days, and I hope to leave then. Hope, in Alaska, is a silly word. I'll stay busy and happy in Kaktovik, though. Trying to get out on the ice with an old man here today. Several folks are snowmobiling out to sea and then to the plains to hunt ducks.
Temperature: 20s and windy.
June 7
Wind chill:five degrees. No sun. This is not normal. Walt says he has not seen the first week of June this cold and snow covered in his 35 years up here. He flew around today and could not even see the landing area he and I had planned to visit: all snow covered. He will fly more tomorrow and Wednesday to find the caribou and assess potential landing strips. He doesn't have skis or floats for his planes here because he-normally-does not need them. He can just land on the gravel bars of the river. Patience.
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