Fishing vs. Catching

If I had my druthers, I’d fish until my arms fell off. Given that my quarry of choice is the muskellunge that may actually happen some day. My arms might just fall off. Having spent a King’s ransom on baits and a lifetime chasing the fish of 10,000 casts, I intimately know the exhilaration of holding a tiger by its tail. Unfortunately, I know all to well what it feels like to be in a slump. I’ve gone days, months and even seasons without so much as a sniff. Being the humble sports fisherman that I am, I’ve been able to swallow my pride and keep casting away because the next catch could be the one I’ve been waiting for. The next cast could always be the one to put a mighty Muskie and me in the same picture frame.

Last night I attended the Blessing of the Boats. Pastor Enoch and the Episcopal Church hosted the evening ceremonies. With a village population near 400, it was sad to hear that only 68 folks broke the threshold at the church. Nine Crew Captains, their wives, village elders and a handful of naluagmius clung to the pews at the back of the church while the tools of the trade were laid at the foot of the altar. It’s a cool place where I live. No one thinks twice about brining spears, harpoons, rifles and whale bombs in to a house of worship. Well, not during whaling season anyway.

Like any church service I’ve ever been to, there were hymns to be sung and the Gospel to be read. Men and women of the whaling community faithfully marched to the pulpit with scripture that matched a season of harvest. In the pews, children munched on Hot Flamin’ and were quieted with Pepsi while their parents updated their status on social media. Meanwhile, Pastor Enoch preached about tradition and honor. He spoke about doubt and faith. Enoch mentioned burying old squabbles and working together to show the people of Kivalina that being tied to the past is a good thing.

You see, there are doubters and quitters in Kivalina. As I’m told, years ago you wouldn’t have been able to find a seat in the church on the night of the blessing. Now the Inupiaq struggle to keep tradition alive. There’s a contingency of young people that have no ties to the subsistence lifestyle. They fight their own demons of complacency and addiction. Battling Mother Nature and honoring their community through the ritual harvest of beast doesn’t even register on their radar. Nine Captains and their crews are all of what remain in a community being washed out to sea.

The pessimists do have some argument to make though.

The last time a bowhead whale was harvested by a crew from Kivalina was in 1996. That’s twenty years ago. Can’t say that I blame them. Even this muskie hunter would start to grow tired of all that fishing and no catching.

Some blame a curse over family feuds surrounding the last whale. Others point at Climate Change and thinning ice. The Bowhead Whales typically follow an arch out of the Bering Straits on their migratory passage through the Chukchi Sea towards the Arctic Ocean. According to the locals, safe sea ice no longer extends out in to the deeper waters of the Chukchi Sea. Those theorists believe the hunters of Kivalina cannot get to where they need to be.

Whaling Crews in Point Hope and farther north in Barrow have been successful in recent years. Family ties are strong all over Alaska but especially in the Inupiat. Muktuk (whale meat) is passed on to family and friends and you can imagine that a 45-60 foot marine mammal that weighs over 150,00 pounds can feed more than one village.  So, people in Kivalina get a taste every year but they want more than a taste.

 

They want a catch. Those that believe, believe it will happen on the next cast.

And so, there we were.

4 teachers.

Two reporters.

Nine captains and the rest of the gang.

All there to pray for strength, patience, perseverance and guidance.

"Please Lord, let this be the year that Kivalina catches a whale. 20 years is long enough."

Just one more cast.