Nothing could be finer…

Red Dog Mine 4/16/16

Two weeks ago I threw on the old hardhat and a pair of steel-toed boots to put in a few honest days work at the mine. Not the metaphorical mine that I’ve referred to in the past when talking about teaching and coaching like a lunch pail guy. This time it was a real, functioning, open-pit, mine.

 

Alaska Resource Education puts on a program all across this great state getting educators out of the classroom and in to the working world of Alaska’s Natural Resources of Wind, Water, Oil and Minerals. In my case, the Northwest Arctic Borough School and the NANA Region is home to the second largest Zinc and Lead mine in the world. The Red Dog Mine, operated by Teck Corporation out of Canada, is literally the closest inhabited neighbor to Kivalina. Fifteen teachers from around the region met in Kotzebue and then traveled to Red Dog for 3 days of science instruction within the working walls of a billion dollar mining operation.

With a graduate credit from the University of Alaska Anchorage dangled in front of us, we sat through lectures and participated in hands on science-based activities. The days were interspersed with travel, sightseeing and some high-class meals. Red Dog employs about three hundred and fifty shareholders. It is part of the original agreement between Teck and NANA to have as many shareholders working at the mine as possible. Local Inupiat that receive yearly dividend payments from NANA are called “shareholders”. Less than one hundred and fifty of the three hundred and fifty working there still reside in the villages. That leaves two hundred quality locals taken from the villages, taught a trade, earned a great wage and now are living elsewhere, probably Kotzebue or Anchorage. While at Red Dog I met two workers originally from Kivalina. After making small talk, I found that we knew many of the same people but I was surprised that neither of the two Red Dog employees that I met had been back to Kivalina in about 6 years. We were forty miles as the crow flies yet my new friends fly back to Anchorage after their two week rotation on shift is followed by a two week down period.

Yes, you read that correctly. Most Red Dog employees are on a 2 on/2 off work rotation. And the average salary is 6 figures. As a matter of fact, an entry-level position with ONLY a high school diploma garnishes $72,000 a year with 26 weeks on and 26 weeks off. Did I mention that Room and Board are covered free of charge? Each employee lives in the PAC, Personal Accommodations Center, which is basically a two story, dorm style building. The PAC has a commissary to meet minor shopping needs. It has a Sauna and a Yoga Room. It has two weight rooms, a library and a game room but the thing that sets Red Dog apart from all others is the FOOD!

The food they feed you at Red Dog has a reputation that proceeds itself. Everyone that I told about my upcoming trip to the Mine mentioned the food. And I will concur it really was a treat. Three square meals fit for a King are flanked by 24-hour food service. Fountain pop, ice cream, desserts, snack bars, and salad bars. My mouth is watering remember the fun we had together in the Chow Hall.

Corey Shepherd (Crossville TN), yours truly,
& Bradley Johnson ( Oregon)

During the trip I was reunited with my roommates from C3, Brad and Corey. It was good to hang out together again. We also had Dana, Sheila, Crazy Kim from Wisconsin and Kodiak Val to round out the C3 gang. I got to meet a host of other teachers from around the region. Beki Kelly is the Education Program Manager from A.R.E. and a real neat person with a background as a High School Science teacher. I actually got to go on this trip after getting an email from a mutual friend of ours, Heath Day from the Fellowship of Christian Athletes in Anchorage. Beki asked Heath for some recommendations in the region and he shot me the invitation. I’m glad I took the bait because I really enjoyed the company of other adults on this trip as opposed to the daily grind of the 4/5 classroom.

Me & Verna made the Lobby look good. 

Verna Westlake was our Red Dog host. She is employed in the Public Relations Department and is a shareholder, originally from Kiana. Verna is the aunt of Fritz Westlake, the boys basketball coach from KIVLs. So we had a quick connection from the get go and a mutual respect for one another.

Red Dog is a well-oiled machine. Safety is a priority. Every employee we met was personable, friendly and welcoming. The operation is amazing. The technology and active science is mind-boggling. Around every corner I was constantly in awe. The Mill workers have my respect as it was the loudest and in my opinion, the most specialized job we saw. A day trip down to Port Site was a highlight, as was the Saturday afternoon blast that we got to watch from afar.

1 of 2 Storage Buildings @ Port Site
And the USF&W Help for Polar Bear studies. 

Shipping season won't start until July.
Here I am less than 10 miles south of Kivalina. 

SAG Rollers in the Mill.

SCIENCE
Zinc is what they're after. Lead is a lucky afterthought. 

 I came back to my classroom with plenty of stories and experiences to share and was quick to apply a few things I learned out there to my classroom. I didn’t mention that shareholders have priority in hiring at the mine although they only consist of about forty percent of the total employee population and unfortunately, most of that is as un-skilled support staff. However, it is a priority to give local and opportunity at Red Dog. As a matter of fact, the villages of Kivalina and Noatak are “Communities of Interest” and people from those villages have first dibs on available jobs. The catch is, Red Dog has high standards for its employees.

Show up to Work.

Communicate.

Be on Time.

And do your job.

That’s the message I brought back – opportunities are right here in the neighborhood. A few basic skills and the aptitude to apply and work hard and any 20 something shareholder could be pulling down 6 figures in no time flat.

Heck, I may even consider a job out there in the future. The food was that good! 

The Engineers let us play with a $7,000 Infrared Camera.
Proof that the Beard is a good insulator.

Back in KIVLS I asked the class what this was. David yelled, "MONEY!"

Next Bend Up

I was born to fish. Raised on the shore of Lake of the Woods and baptized in its frigid waters. I live to fish. My son suffers the same affliction.

One might think that my Alaskan Adventure would include hauling in fishing stories hand over fist. Sadly, I’ve not been privy to the endless salmon runs and the typical Alaskan experience that they advertise. Here, I’ve had to work hard for the few outdoor opportunities that I’ve been lucky enough to snag.

Last Fall I got up river and went fishing twice.

Two.

Uno-Dos.

Successful on both trips, the sensation of holding a homegrown Kivalina Trout or Artic Grayling in my hands left me wanting more. Unfortunately, my next chance to wet a line wouldn’t come until late in to the frigid winter. With a caribou rib serving as my fishing pole, I desperately tried my luck at icing a fish from the Wulik River.

Chance number one was a shot in the dark. Crazy enough to convince a couple of fellow teachers to join me, we set out to find a hole and fish in it. Just being off the island can be refreshing enough and although we didn’t connect on any fish that first time, we did shoot some ptarmigan and enjoy a frigid January afternoon above the Arctic Circle. My first ice-fishing excursion left me wanting more.

Leah using the Eskimo Fish Finder - look in the hole. 

With hook and line in hand, I felt that I had to prove myself a worthy adversary. Humbled by reports from villagers, I was at least encouraged that the fish were there under the ice. As a matter of fact, I could actually see them from a prone position with my face in the hole – the Eskimo Way. At times I found myself frustrated watching fish after fish swim by uninterested in my offering. Occasionally I would laugh at the idea of me, a thousand miles from nowhere, lying with my belly on the ice and my nose an inch from the water. If I could just figure out the Eskimo Way, next year I might have to leave the Frabil Ice House and the Little Buddy Heater at home when chasing crappies on Crosslake. Until then, I pressed on in my crash course in Inupiaq Ice Fishing at a cozy 66 degrees north latitude.

Two or three more chances to hook up came and went with the same dismal results. Optimistic each time but invigorated and interested enough when they came to an end, like any good fisherman, I kept believing that it would happen the next time out. In Minnesota, April 23^rd typically means sandals and shorts weather is upon us if not close by. Here in Kivalina, Spring feels a lot like Winter but with more sunlight. Saturday was cold. The air temp was in the low 20’s while the relentless north wind penetrated the seams of my gear and nipped it’s mid-teens wind-chill in to my core. I chipped away at abandoned ice holes and lowered my silver lure and salmon egg offering in to a few scattered spots.

Once you stick your head in the hole and let your eyes adjust, the crystal clear waters of the Wulik River reveal themselves to you. Muddy and willow branches – too close to shore. Sandy and swift -  too deep. Medium sized rocks with 3 feet of ice and 3 feet of water – just right. Each water column provided its own visual aquarium, a glimpse in to the underworld, but lying on ice in the Arctic has its drawbacks. The sun tries desperately to warm your backside while the ice sucks the warmth right through you. Face down and staring at the bottom of a moving river can mess with your equilibrium but it’s worth the discomfort. It’s a visual treat to identify trout and grayling ignoring your bait. Really, it is.

Skunked again on Saturday. But hope was on the horizon.

Ahquk was out there fishing on Saturday and must have recognized me when I whipped past on the snowmachine. Later in the evening, she text one of the teachers that I was hanging out with. Ahquk wanted to know if I caught anything and when Emma answered in the negative, Ahquk said the fish were biting on the next bend up.

Ahquk is the mother of twin 4^th grade girls in my class. More than once, she has been three miles out from the village on the same stretch of river as me. Ahquk taught me to lie on the ice. Ahquk is one of the few to offer genuine advice. I have confidence in any information from Ahquk because she’s one of the few locals that I know has put in the time. Through text messaging, Ahquk suggested that I might want to try out the next bend up on Sunday morning.

The Inupiaq don’t hunt or fish on Sundays. More than one person, young and old, have told me that it’s in the Bible. No doubt, my friends in Minnesota will be disappointed to learn this. Having only a few weekends of outdoor adventures left before I rotate back, I was willing to risk committing a sin and secretly hoped that fishing on Sunday wouldn’t relegate me to eternal damnation. The risk was real. Ahquk doesn’t fish on Sunday herself but she also knows that I do. I thanked her and readied my gear.

Jon and I decided to head out Eskimo Early on Sunday morning. Getting up early to fish in Minnesota usually falls around 5:00am. In Kivalina, it was a safe bet that Jon and I wouldn’t be caught in traffic at 10:00 am and so we rode out just before lunch.

Much warmer weather made the ride rather enjoyable. We skimmed across the tundra like men on a mission. Sunday would be the day that we both had waited for. Luckily there were atheist fish to cooperate.

Jon and I iced a couple of Kivalina Trout – Dolly Varden (Arctic Char to be exact). Through the ice, we saw a couple of the giants that get to be that way by avoiding rookies like us. We even fooled a few grayling by downsizing our tackle. All in all, we had a splendid time on the next bend up.

I’m off the schneid.

Wulik River - Sunday 4/24/16 

I Got No Rhythm

When my work schedule is telling me that it’s time to go to bed, my circadian rhythm is telling me that it’s still time to party. Living closer to the 69^th parallel in Kivalina is a heck of a lot different than growing up closer to the 49^th parallel in Warroad.

This end of the Earth is tilted towards the sun now and consequently, my biological clock is FUBAR’ed. At night, intense sunlight penetrates the shades and blinds and tells my mind and body that there are still lots to see and do for the day. Unfortunately, the Spring Fever that has taken over the students of McQueen School is leaving me exhausted at the end of the day.

No doubt, their circadian rhythms are all out of whack now too. When the suns out, so are the Eskimo children. With the end of the school year in sight, the children have become less attentive and more destructive. Their silliness bleeds in to rudeness. Very few are still interested in what the school has to offer. They’re ready to check out – because the sun is telling them it’s time to play.

Michele asked me if it was easier to adjust to the darkness in the winter. Overwhelmingly, yes.

The snow is melting yet the ice is still auger deep. Children run around in shorts and t-shirts. It’s 40 degrees above the Arctic Summer. It’s practically Summer. My mind is ready to be back in good old Minnesota while my body can’t tell if it’s coming or going. Meanwhile, I’m still trying to enjoy my last moments on this crazy expedition in life.

I just gotta get in rhythm.

Frequent Flier Update.

On January 2^nd, I chronicled the flights that I have under my wing since leaving Minnesota in July. Today I landed back in in Kivalina for potentially the last time. Next time I shove off from the Rock and in to the friendly skies, I won’t be returning. Not anytime soon anyway. I am less than 4 weeks from being homeward bound.

I have learned a valuable life lesson though. The easiest way to avoid collecting on that additional Life Insurance plan that’s deducted four bucks from my monthly paycheck is to matchup the same number of landings as takeoffs. 

Red Dog to Kotzebue 4/17/16

It’s that easy.

Here’s my flight log – continued.

Kivalina to Ambler & Ambler to Kivalina. (Bball – Jan.)

Kivalina to Noatak & Noatk to Kivalina. (Bball @ SIVU – Jan.)

Kivalina to Kiana & Kiana to Kivalina. (Bball – Jan.: weathered in and extra day)

Kivalina to Noorvik & Nororvik to Kivalina. (Bball – Feb.: weather in 2+ days.)

Kivalina to Selawik & Selawik to Kivalina. (Bball – Feb.)

Kivalina to Kotzebue & Kotzebue to Kivalina. (Bball – Mar. @ Regionals.)

Kivalina to Kotzebue – snowmobile to Selawik  (Week of R&R for Spring Break.)

Selawik to Kotzebue & Kotzebue to Kivalina (Spring Break trip “home”)

Kivalina to Kotzebue. (Red Dog Mine/Science class meet up – April)

Kotzebue to Red Dog & Red Dog to Kotzebue. (Red Dog Mine Teacher Trip. – April)

Kotzebue to Noatak to Kivalina. (Red Dog trip “home”.)

While on the final approach to the runway in Kivalina this afternoon, I realized that it was truly my Final Approach. If everything goes as planned. I am here on the Rock for only a handful more experiences. The next time I wrestle on that lap belt while trying to listen to the Safety Brief, I can go in to my regular routine of the Lord’s Prayer followed by asking for a Safe Take Off, Flight and Landing knowing that I will be South East Bound and Down and not flying Round Trip.

Paying particular attention to the landings to take off ratio has given me great joy…no where near as comparable as to what I expect to feel when my family awaits.

Kotzebue to Noatak - 4/17/16

Next Flight Plan follows:

Kivalina to Kotzebue (Going home - May 13th)

Kotzebue to Anchorage (Home - Continued.)

Anchorage to Seattle (Home - May 14th)

Seattle to Minneapolis (FINAL DESTINATION)

The butter aint going soft.

As expected, I took a little guff from a beer swilling, bar brawling buddy of mine for the “Love Languages” blog. Dirty Dillon acknowledged that I know where my bread is buttered although he questioned if reading books like that allowed me to be the lucky sucker that snagged Miss Dinius’ hand in marriage.

If that were what it takes, I’d do it a hundred times over.

Fear not, I have not gone soft.

I live closer to the 69^th parallel than the 68^th and we are currently registering a “feels like” temperature of 17 degrees on a sunny mid April day. This afternoon I sat on the rocks near the south channel and watched as my students cross-country skied their way south past the fish camps. While the sun warmed my face, I’ll admit I may have gotten a little choked up knowing that in a few short weeks, this will all be a thing of the past. Tough enough to still live in the Arctic. Soft enough to be emotional about it.

Just last week a couple of girls in my class where giving me the once over with a different look on their faces. When I asked them what was on their minds, they wanted to know more about my Harry Potter scar. I then got to re-tell a story of old about a Mountain of a Man when he was a Mountain of a high school junior and how at an early season football practice, his elbow accidentally met my face leaving me with the raw end of the deal and a 3 inch scar across my forehead. The girls came forward to feel the new skin of the five-year-old scar. They counted the dots from the eleven stiches that once held me together. I contemplated digging out a picture of the black eyes and hamburgered incision but thought twice. Their imaginations were enough. They know I am tough. Tough enough to take a blow like that to the head and keep charging on. Soft enough to teach elementary school and dole out hugs and glittery stickers on occasion too.

Still the days tick by as I mentally notch another tally mark in my Kivalina prison wall. This has felt like a deployment, reminiscent of my Marine Corps days. Those four years of service helped mold me in to the man I am today. I think of the difficult times that I thought would never end. The long hours, days and weeks at sea with only weapons maintenance and NonCommissioned TomFoolery to keep us entertained; that and the dangerous patrols and unpredictable enemies waiting for an opportunity to pounce. I am tough enough to have proudly served in the finest fighting force know to mankind. Yet soft enough that I sometimes still weep at the slightest thought of my wife, daughter and sons thousands of miles from where I now roam.

I’m no wimp, D-train. I’m just a man with some time on my hands and some shit to get off my chest. Read a book every once in a while. You might learn something and be no less of a manly man because of it. I love ya brother – but in a tough guy, let’s get together and throw back some Southern Comfort and talk about hockey kind of way.