I go to Store.

The broken English that is spoken here in the village is a cross between phonemic minimalism and street slang, splattered with a hint of tribal dialect that takes some getting used to. Adults, children, the gainfully employed and the unemployed alike all speak this sporadic, yet somehow functional form of communication. Since our handlers at C3 started their endoctrinization of us and introduced us to the culture of the Inupiat People, we’ve been told to encourage complete sentences.  Two months in to the school year, I now know why.

They are a soft-spoken group. They use a lot of facial expressions to communicate. Raising of the eyebrows means “yes” and a scrunching of the nose means “no”. – you know, because to verbalize that is quite a commitment.  I joke.

Ask any kid what the highlight of his or her day is and the number one answer on the Rock inevitably is, “I go to Store.”

Short and to the point. Effective and honest.

The Native Store here is a thing of beauty. After their old one burned to the ground last December, it was replaced with a state of the art convenience store. It is a thing of beauty in this otherwise desolate village…and consequently, it is the center of their universe. (And a provider of Pop and Cheetos)

If you need to know anything - Go to Store.

If you need to find someone – Go to Store.

If you are just interested in the pulse of Kivalina – Go to Store.

And last weekend, Jon and I went separately to Store.

My trip was to secure my first purchase of a caffeinated beverage since getting here and swearing off soda. I have since dropped 11 pounds and decided to reward myself monthly.

Jon was out to make small talk and pick up a few groceries. What he left with was worth so much more.

One of the clerks at the store is named Rhonda and much like a bartender in the Lower 48, Rhonda knows a little about everything going on in town. And if you ever wanted someone on your side, Rhonda is your gal. Rhonda asked Jon if he had enjoyed any fishing or hunting lately. To which Jon replied that he hadn’t but was certainly willing to buy gas and interested in going at any point. Rhonda seemed surprised that neither Jon nor I had been invited and assured us that she would put the word out and make something happen.

…Fast forward to Monday at about 4:50 p.m….

The doors to the gym opened and Jon interrupted my volleyball practice by waving me over. He was dressed much like he was on our Saturday walk to the North Channel – a camouflaged coat, stocking cap, and a fishing pole sticking out of his backpack.  When I got there, I asked him if he was going for another walk. ”Even better” he replied.

“How soon can you be done with practice and ready to go fishing? Rhonda found someone to take us!”

We wrapped up volleyball maybe a few minutes earlier than planned and I ran back to Senior Housing and began to pack, dress and scarf down some chow for the slightest chance that what he had just told me might be true. I was going up river and on a real fishing trip in Alaska!!!

Jolene’s jet boat is a legend around here. It’s a flat bottom, Phantom with a 200 horse inboard Jet engine…. it is loud and AWESOME! The story goes that the first year she bought it, a couple of local schoolboys shot out the windshields with a BB Gun. I’m not sure I’ve seen a BBGun that could inflict the damage that her windows had but it certainly gave the vessel some character. Her friend Brenda was the unofficial tour guide and an excellent camp cook. Her SPAM and Dijon Mustard sandwiches were delightful. Warlock rounded out the trifecta that toted Jon and me about 3 miles off of the island of Kivalina and in to a dream like state.

Willard is his given name. Actually his father’s name too but people around here call him Warlock. He’s got your stereotypical Jack O' Lantern Eskimo smile but other than that he seems pretty harmless. With a call sign like Warlock, I’m not really interested in ever testing him out.

The winding Wulik River is shallow and constantly turning back on itself. I listened to the engine roar and although you couldn’t really see over the banks of the river, I enjoyed the sights. Jolene drove flawlessly and looked to Warlock from time to time for some navigational reassurance.

After a while of motoring upstream, we came to a bend where 3 other fishermen where dragging their seining nets across the river. Jolene immediately pulled to the far shore and shut down the Phantom. We politefully stood by and watched, unfortunately not long enough to see if their nets harvested any bounty.  And with a smile and a wave we were off again scrapping the rocky bottom effortlessly at each riffle.

Before long, Jolene looked back at Warlock and he pointed us to a sand bar on a shallow bend in the river. We got out and while Brenda worked her Ulu magic on the SPAM, we cast our lures in to the icy waters. No real luck there – although Jon did purposely snag a dying salmon just to say he caught something. I told him that one didn’t count and after about twenty minutes of fishing. Jolene and Warlock decided we should double back and find some deeper water. Their hunch paid off.

Brenda was the first to hook in to a trout. She was about a hundred yards downstream from me but I could see the splashing and tell from a distance that she had a sizable catch on her hands as she walked backwards up the bank and dragged the fish ashore. The tension was too much and her swivel actually straightened and sent the lure and the fish safely back in to the river. Brenda marked out a line in the sand and rocks and pointed me in the right direction.  Minutes later I was hooked up with my first Kivalina Trout.

It hit just like a Lake Trout in the BWCA. It swam just like a Lake Trout too! Its crazy spinning circles and the power of the river had me begging Jon for some help. He set his rod down and waded in to the water as I tried to play the fish within reach. The power on the other end of my line surged through the tip of my fishing pole and right in to my heart. I wish I could have seen the smile on my own face because at that point, I was revived. I was in a happy place.

And just like that, the hook came out and the fish took his leave of us. I didn’t cuss. I didn’t even skip a beat. I was happily in the presence of fish in the farthest northern reaches of Alaska. There was nothing to be sad or mad about and I let another cast fly.

I know that it wasn’t on the very next cast. And I doubt that it was the second one either but shortly after I caught and prematurely released my first trout, I hooked in to another one. This one was again easily identifiable as another trout. The silver streaks slashing in violent semi-circles gave it away real quickly that I had fooled another trout in to taking the bait but this one wasn’t able to put up as much of a fight as his bigger buddy. I called Jon off – deciding that I’d land this one myself.

Wrong…he spit the hook too.

Very next cast – I hooked in to a “Biggun”. The drag on my reel had a very different zing to it this time. I could see that this fish was going to take me for a ride. It ended up being a 10-minute or more ride and I’m not sure I ever gained an inch on him. When it finally came unhooked, I looked at Jon and laughed. I was tired, excited and satisfied and I hadn’t even beached a fish yet. Later when Jon landed his Chum Salmon, we deduced that must have what I hooked in to when I went for my long ride because his was much the same fight that he eventually won.

This fishing story of woe has a happy ending. I did eventually hook and land a beauty of a Dolly Varden. The locals all call them trout and they look and fight just like a Laker but the biologists and Brent insist that they are actually a member of the Char family and thus more appropriately called a Dolly Varden. I’m cool with that. It sounds way more exotic anyway.

3 hours out in a boat and on the shores of the Wulik River - The wind in my hair and the water rushing over my boots… a SPAM sandwich and a sunset.  My emotional tank was refilled on Monday evening and it all happened because….

Jon go to Store.

Jon's biggest fish to date. A female Chum Salmon - tossed it back
in to decay like the hundreds of other late run salmon.  

My Dolly Varden was enough to feed me, Jon and my chosen Elder -
Wild Bill Bajczyk.