October 5, 2008
Barrow, Alaska. I arrived in this arctic town on a snowed over runway at 7 p.m. (9 p.m. in Utah time), concluding my fourth plane flight in one day: from Salt Lake to Seattle (1.5 hours), Seattle to Anchorage (3.5 hours), Anchorage to Fairbanks (1.5 hrs.), and Fairbanks to Barrow (1.5 hrs). To say the least, after a prior night packing until 1 a.m., I was exhausted and generally afraid of starting my new job the next day without enough sleep.
Upon waling off the plane, my co-worker and office manager, Richard, approached me to offer a ride to my new home, a huge itinerant housing structure in Browerville (the "suburb" right next to Barrow). Well, as it turned out, Richard said that his brother-in-law had just harpooned a whale! Coincidentally, and almost fortuitously, my arrival paralleled the catch of the first bowhead whale of the fall subsistence hunt. I asked Richard if it was okay for me to come watch them pull the whale in. He said "sure."
We drove to the edge of Browerville, which is about a 5 minute drive from the airport (which is basically in downtown Barrow). Out at sea, we could see a small boat floating next to a black bulge, presumably the whale. Noticeably, there were cars driving in from every direction, pulling up on the beach, parking, running the engine heaters (to keep warm!), and generally coming in for "the show" of watching the whale get pulled in.
Being with Richard put me right into the inner circle of the catch! As it turns out, when a whaling captain kills a whale, it is then his family's responsibility to organize the initial gathering of the community to cut up the whale, remove its blubber, its meat, its organs, and every other useful part of the creature. The captain's wife prepares soup (or some other easily served in bulk meal), Eskimo donuts (flour fried donuts), and tea. Then, while the men cut and remove the blubber from the whale, the wife keeps the community fed, and also boils sections of the blubber and whale skin (Muktuk I believe its called) in salt water for everyone to eat while they watch the whole ordeal. I can tell you, it is surreal! No one in the community is left without food or whale.
But wait, in my excitement, I forgot to tell you about bringing in the whale!
Much of the night, from about 5 p.m. to 11 p.m. was spent bringing in the whale. While the crew of what I think was 4 or 5 men originally harpooned the whale, it required two other boats assistance to drag in. The wife, who had never prepared a whale feast before, was happy because the whale was said to be small. Richard also expressed relief on her behalf. It then seemed somewhat unusual that the men were having such difficulty pulling it in. Something seemed wrong, but the Inupiat people are very patient and they waited. Coming from 80 degree temperatures in Utah, to 20 degree temperatures with 20 mile per hour winds gave me a reminder of the value of the parka in arctic. I can honestly promise, there is not a chance of forgetting your coat here!
Given how long it was going to take to get the whale in, and Richard's need for warmer clothes, he drove me to my housing complex to get things settled in while he went home to change. I was thankful because I was feeling scrambled and generally overwhelmed by my new surroundings (given their stark contrast to the tightly wound Utah world I'm used to). In Barrow, the axiom "United We Stand, Divided We Fall," is proven. Here, you must work together and laugh together, because you will either die or kill yourself if you don't.
Surprisingly, when we returned about an hour later, the creature was still out at sea and a blizzard had moved in from the sea. We waited another hour and a half for the boats to get the whale strapped to the boats. Apparently the whalers had trouble keeping the strap and float attached to the whale's tail or something like that. Apparently, and as we found out when the front loaders were hooked to the beast and dragged it from the sea, what was thought to be a small bowhead turned out to be large, measuring at 40 feet 9 inches long and probably 8 feet high on its side! Richards sister was going to be busy and so were we! When the whale made it up on the sand, horns began to blaze and people began to scream and chant . . . HOORAY! When the Whale was nearly on the shore, the strap broke and I learned how dangerous this practice can be. If anyone would have been near the broken line, they would have been killed. In the Spring, when the whales are dragged in by hand (by the whole community who pulls the rope), the strap has broken and, in its whip-like action, has whipped and killed people. Combined with the dangers of what faces the brave men out in the boats hunting the whales, who face everything from shifting pack ice to waves and the possibility of being dragged to their death by the whales themselves, this practice is clearly one of necessity, and not of sport. It is the people's subsistence; the heart of their economic, social, spiritual and even political well-being.
When the whale was finally landed, children from the community climbed it and stood on it. I was able to touch it and look inside its mouth and baleen. It took two front-end loaders to lift it and carry it to the cutting grounds . . . an old runway about ½ mile from where the boats originally landed it on the beach. While the front loaders maneuvered, lifted and began to move the whale, the entire community jumped in their cars and lined up to follow. It was a procession of joy and happiness I've never seen. Women came to tears of joy and children jumped and screamed. Many people smoked cigarettes in a collective sigh as it was indicated that everyone was safe and the whale was really caught.
The feast that followed was amazing. A tend was set up, temporary stoves were brought in, and a division of labor quickly occurred. Some older men set up stools and began to sharpen the saws and knives. Younger men began to cut the whale blubber in 12-18 inch wide, 10 inch thick, and up to 7 feet long strips that they removed from the core meat of the whale and dragged to the women. The women prepared tea and the food and cut the thick strips down into very small pieces that were boiled in salt water and then handed out the everyone in attendance. This is a delicacy here and it is considered a very, very important thing to eat that skin and blubber. The blubber is incredibly oily . . . so oily that I could not get it off my hands with a paper towel or a wet nap. While the blubber tasted just like lard, I could not describe the taste of the skin, except that I think it would be much better with soy sauce or something like that.
People seemed generally impressed that I liked it, or at least convincingly acted like I liked it. I actually preferred the rice and chicken soup that Richard's wife had made!
Anyway, I needed to get this down because it was such an incredible and rare experience, not to mention it occurred as soon as I exited the airplane.
I now have a much deeper understanding and appreciation for why I am here. It is my job to work for these people and the whales. They are dependent on eachother. The Inupiat need the whales to eat, and the whales need the Inupiat (and me) to speak for them to a world that would rather have oil than its indigenous people.
Quite frankly, if the oil companies drill these oceans, it will almost certainly disrupt the whaling routes and possibly throw the whales even closer to extinction. This would be nothing less than genocide for these people, who have lived and hunted the bowhead since time immemorial (approximately 10,000 years).
jj
