WINTER 2015
At UAA we don’t just study glaciers.
We climb them.
UAA is an EEO/AA employer and educational institution.
*
R E M U S N O C PL ANS CREDIT
Pay m e n ts! o N . t s e r e . No In t 1 2 m on t h s
Adura® offers the look of wood, tile or stone with the exceptional durability and performance that only a luxury vinyl floor can provide. Get the natural look and feel of wood— minus the maintenance with Adura Plank. Go for a tile look with Adura Tile and customize it using grout for an even more realistic tile appearance.
VISIT SPENARD BUILDERS SUPPLY TODAY! ALASKA’S CHOICE FOR BUILDING MATERIALS AND HOME IMPROVEMENTS. *Offers of financing for qualified consumers only, subject to credit approval. Please see Terms & Conditions for program specific disclosures.
Comprehensive Family Care Voted Best of Alaska for Family Physicians 2009 -2015
Our Patients always see a Doctor Immediate Care General medicine for women, men, children and infants Occupational Health
2211 E. Northern Lights Blvd.
(907) 279-8486
HOURS: Monday - Friday 7:30am - 6:00pm Saturday 9:00am - 4:00pm Walk-In and Same Day Appointments Available
www.mpfcak.com
1 (888) 382-8486 - Locally owned for over 40 years!
ALASKANA
6 Q&A with Fran Ulmer by Sarah Gonzales 8 Readers’ Guide to Alaska by Amy Newman
PUDDLE JUMPER
12 On the Edge of the Arctic Circle by Matt Reed
16 Following by Megan Spurkland
LOOK
21 Building Better Arctic Structures by Stephanie Prokop 24 The Art of Sewing Fur by Kirsten Swann
BODY, MIND & SPIRIT 27 Alaska’s ‘Eskimo Ninja’ by Kirsten Swann
28 Northern Beauty Queen by Jamey Bradbury 32 20Q with Elizabeth Niiqsik Ferguson compiled by Jamey Bradbury
SAVOR 34 A Jar of Fall by Laura Sampson
38 Well-stocked for Winter compiled by Kirsten Swann
WHAT WE LOVE 42 ShareADN: Alaskafy compiled by Joshua Genuino
Local artist Nicholas Raffuse created this issue’s exclusive cover art.
A L L - E N C O M P A S S I N G 939 W. 5TH AVE. | ANCHORAGE, AK CAPTAINCOOK.COM
6
FAMILIAR NAME TO MANY Alaskans, Fran Ulmer has been advising policymakers and making policy in our state and nationally for years. In her various roles as a former lieutenant governor of Alaska under Tony Knowles; Juneau’s mayor; chancellor of the University of Alaska Anchorage; and as a public policy professor there, she has dedicated her professional life to educating both the public and lawmakers about Alaska. She was appointed to her current position as the chair of the United States Arctic Research Commission (USARC) by President Barack Obama in 2011, and
she will continue to serve in the role until 2019. The purpose of the commission is to create reports and make recommendations to our nation’s lawmakers concerning both the domestic and international Arctic. Ulmer travels regularly to the Arctic to learn more about the people and the land. With her years of policymaking and her focus on higher education in Alaska, we wanted to know her personal take on the Arctic, so we asked. Somewhere between the Arctic Circle in Iceland and traveling back home to Anchorage, she found time to answer our questions by email.
When did you first visit the Arctic? My first trip to the Arctic was to Greenland and Iceland (plus Newfoundland and Labrador) on a USO tour when I was in college. It was a very exotic landscape with huge, open, treeless spaces with mountains and glaciers, all of which inspired a sense of awe. My first trip to Alaska’s Arctic was the summer of 1973, my first summer in Alaska. I was working for the Legislature and Representative Helen Beirne held hearings about health care delivery in Kotzebue. She arranged for me to go along as staff and we flew to Kivalina, Noatak, Kiana. What did you find surprising about the Arctic? One phone and only one phone in each village; honey buckets and lack of appropriate community facilities; no high schools in most villages; seeing caribou at the end of the runway.
7 What are some of your memorable experiences off the grid in the Arctic? • Meeting the brown bears of McNeil River and Katmai National Park. • Enjoying the Chena Hot Springs pool in the middle of winter, with the northern lights dancing overhead. • Kayaking in Glacier Bay, watching glaciers calve and riding the waves. • Winning the Kuskokwim 300 Rookie sled dog race in Bethel. • Riding a snow machine out to Mayor George Ahmaogak’s whaling camp at his invitation to see the whaling crew preparing and waiting for the bowhead whales. And then being part of the community effort to pull on the ropes to bring the whale up on the ice. An extraordinary honor to be part of the rich cultural traditions in Barrow. What is one misconception commonly held about the Arctic that you can dispel for our readers? The Arctic is often discussed as though it is all the same. The truth is that there is a lot of variability. Some areas of the Arctic are ice-free in winter, like northern Norway. Other areas, like the Canadian Arctic, are iced over for many months. Some areas have modern infrastructure and others have very little. Although there are certainly similarities, the differences are often ignored. Why did you get involved with Arctic policy? I have been interested in the intersection of science, law, public policy and politics for a long time. Serving 11 years as a commissioner on the North Pacific Anadromous Fish Commission was an in-depth science/policy experience and an opportunity to learn how to be a translator between the science community and the policy community and the public. When I taught public policy at UAA, I focused on issues in Alaska and in the Arctic where science and policy meet (fisheries, oil and gas, etc.). So when I was asked to consider serving on the USARC, it was easy to say yes. how do you help people in Washington understand Arctic Alaska? I show maps and photos, tell stories, make comparisons to places they know, and try to get them curious, wanting to know more about this amazing place.
What comments and concerns do you most often hear from Alaskans living in the Arctic? A wide variety of concerns. Here are a few (not in order of priority): • Subsistence and food security (access to the resources; protection of the areas that support the populations of fish and animals and berries; climate change impacts to those resources). • Local decision making and control; respecting local and indigenous knowledge. • The high cost of energy and other utilities that now require incomes from jobs that are not in abundance in many villages. • Climate change impacts to Arctic communities (erosion, flooding, permafrost thawing, less ice to use as a platform for transportation, hunting, ice cellars, etc.). • Social/family/community health issues (alcohol abuse, suicide, domestic violence). In your opinion, what does the future of Alaska’s Arctic look like and how will it affect Alaskans living in the Arctic? Change. There will be changes that will require courage and creativity. Continued warming, flooding and erosion will make some villages uninhabitable. Ice-dependent species will be stressed and will change their migration patterns, and some will significantly decline, which will also reduce the availability of subsistence foods. However, new technologies may be deployed in ways that make life better and more affordable: renewable energy, redesigned and more efficient homes and water systems; public services could be more cost effective and sustainable. Faster broadband could make it easier to work remotely and live in villages while obtaining income from a wider variety of jobs done virtually. Some communities may choose to combine and reach economic critical mass to be more economically viable for new clean industries. Other communities because of location, resources and infrastructure may be able to take advantage of increased accessibility and grow economies related to those opportunities. Finally, do you have a favorite film, book, music originating from an artist or writer in the Arctic? • Band: Pamyua • Book: Two in the Far North by Margaret Murie
Learn more about the Arctic at USARC.gov or follow the agency on Twitter (@US_ARC). Sarah Gonzales is a writer and producer living in Anchorage, Alaska. Her first trip to the Arctic was to Kotzebue in 2012 where she saw the aurora borealis and ate caribou stew all in one cold evening.
8
NONFICTION, POETRY AND FICTION FOR THOSE WHO LIKE TO TOUR BY BOOK by Amy Newman
LASKA IS RICH IN NATURAL RESOURCES, and its deep pool of talented storytellers is no less an important one. From above the Arctic Circle to the Southeast Panhandle, in a variety of forms, they detail Alaska’s rich history, from Alaska Natives’ forced enrollment in boarding schools to the fight to hold on to traditional ways; the journey to statehood and Alaska’s fierce independence; and the inherent beauty and danger that have drawn people to Alaska for centuries. Here is a collection of fiction, nonfiction and poetry for children and adults alike.
Benchmarks: New and Selected Poems 1963 – 2013
Richard Dauenhauer, University of Alaska Press (2013)
Richard Dauenhauer, along with his wife Nora, was one of Alaska’s most influential scholars on Tlingit language and culture. He was also a prolific poet—he served as Alaska’s poet laureate in the early 1980s—and Benchmarks presents new and selected poems that span his 50-year career. Published a year before Dauenhauer’s death in 2014 from cancer, the poems play with style—from the recognizable stanza and haiku to long-form, diary like poems—and theme, focusing on Alaska’s people and places, as well as scenes from his life.
Blonde Indian: An Alaska Native Memoir
Ernestine Hayes, The University of Arizona Press (2006) Part Tlingit, part white, raised by her mother, grandmother and aunt, Ernestine Hayes straddled two worlds growing up in Juneau, never feeling as though she fit into either. Though she spent part of her young adult and adult years in Washington and California, Hayes always returned to Juneau. Traditional Tlingit lore about her people’s connection to the land are weaved throughout this beautiful and simply written memoir as Hayes explores the idea of home and what it means to belong.
9
To Russia with Love: An Alaskan’s Journey
Victor Fischer (with Charles Wohlforth), University of Alaska Press (2012) City planner. Constitutional delegate. State senator. Vic Fischer is one of the architects of modern Alaska, and in To Russia with Love, he and Wohlforth take readers on a journey through Alaska’s formative years. The book also recounts Fischer’s remarkable childhood—born in Germany, he spent his childhood in Moscow and Berlin during the rise of Stalin and Hitler, and escaped to America with his mother and brother in 1939. His personal history helped form the humanistic beliefs that guided him and ultimately shaped Alaska. Historical documents—Fischer had access to his writer-parents’ letters and autobiographies—add substance to the book, which reads like a talk between friends over drinks.
Lucy’s Dance
Deb Vanasse, Illustrations by Nancy E. Slagle, University of Alaska Press (2011) Deb Vanasse has written numerous children’s and young adult books, but Lucy’s Dance is my and my six-year-old daughter’s favorite. It recounts how traditional Native drumming and dancing was almost lost after white missionaries came to Alaska, and chronicles Lucy’s attempt to rekindle the traditional dance festival in order to erase the sadness in her grandfather’s eyes. Its straightforward storytelling introduces young children to the injustices Alaska Natives faced by those who didn’t understand their ways, and paves the way for discussions on the importance of respecting other cultures, and that different doesn’t always mean bad.
50 Miles from Tomorrow
William L. Iġġiaġruk Hensley, Sarah Crichton Books (2009) For all the benefits statehood brought Alaska, it also jeopardized the traditional Native way of life, threatening to limit access to lands the people had lived and hunted on for centuries. In 50 Miles from Tomorrow, Inupiaq former Alaska state legislator William L. Iġġiaġruk Hensley, who helped establish the Alaska Federation of Natives, summons “the gift all Inupiat have within them—the art of storytelling.” He recounts his childhood in Kotzebue and his involvement in the fight to pass the Alaska Native Claims Settlement Act, which set aside 44 million acres of land and nearly $1 billion for Alaska Natives.
Do varicose veins run in your family? Are you on your feet all day at work? Have you had any pregnancies? Do you have leg pain, swelling or varicose veins? If left untreated, symptoms may worsen.
CALL 1-907-222-6240
for a free consultation with Dr. Artwohl!
NON-SURGICAL, IN-OFFICE PROCEDURES CAN HELP! •
ClosureFast™ treatment
relieves pain & restores the appearance of your legs • No recovery period or downtime • Covered by most private insurances, Medicare & Medicaid
e
se an c inic R e To re Q av at s, fo e sk m to to h be n t aladra ho o m a w.e p g o sc w m er or .c wso f t e nic a e d o d c li se a n c i n R e To re Q av fo he s k be n t ala a . sc w w w
ic at s, o am ot to dr h o m e p g o m ter or c.c so af de lini d o c
Alaska’s Most Experienced Vein Clinic DR. ROBERT ARTWOHL 3300 PROVIDENCE DRIVE, STE. 309, ANCHORAGE, AK 99508 (907) 222-6240 / 1-800-VEIN-DOC
11
The Accidental Explorer: Wayfinding in Alaska Sherry Simpson, Sasquatch Books (2008)
“I never became the sort of Alaskan who flies planes, kills wild animals ... or treks through the backcountry as if it were no more troublesome than driving to the local 7-Eleven,” Sherry Simpson writes. But with a deep desire to discover her place in the land she’s called home since childhood, Simpson became an adventurer nonetheless, kayaking, rafting and hiking her way around the state. Peppered with stories of early explorers who sought to unlock Alaska’s secrets, Simpson’s vivid depictions paint a picture of Alaska’s beauty and peril that will transport those who have visited the places she describes back in time, and may just be enough to inspire those who haven’t explored to set off on their own adventure.
My Name is Not Easy
Debby Dahl Edwardson, Marshall Cavendish (2011) A 2011 nominee for the National Book Award for Young People’s Literature, My Name is Not Easy, by Barrow author Debby Dahl Edwardson, is a story about a 1960s Catholic boarding school and the Alaska Native children sent there to receive an education. Told from the viewpoint of five of those students, this work of historical fiction examines the injustice these children faced being taken from their home, their ability to form a family with those they were forced to live with, and the impact it had on their lives and, ultimately, the future of Alaska’s Native people.
Amy Newman is a freelance writer living in Anchorage. When she can’t explore Alaska, she enjoys reading about its people and places in books.
find
inner peace & outer beauty
a full service salon and spa
415 west fifth avenue anchorage, ak 99501 907.276.0070 escapeAK.com
12
by Matt Reed
WAS JUST FINISHING UP BREAKFAST with Kevin Kellogg when Rick Osborn clomped into the Bettles Lodge dining room, patting down his pockets. He was the lone National Park Service employee remaining in Bettles for the winter and was dressed for outdoor work: winter jacket, beanie, work pants, ice cleats affixed to his boots. He wedged his hands between the cushions of a nearby booth. Kevin, who’s been flying chartered flights for the Bettles Lodge for the last 14 years, had been showing me his photos of the Brooks Range and apologizing that we wouldn’t be able to go on any flights while I was there. It was late October, the beginning of Bettles’ shoulder season (between moose hunting season and aurora borealis tourist season), which
would last until January. Kevin had just flown the lodge’s two planes down to Fairbanks for storage. But now we watched Rick, who was kneeling on the floor, dipping his head down to get a better look underneath the table. Finally, Kevin asked, “What are you looking for?” “I lost the keys to City Hall.” In addition to being the lone remaining National Park Service employee, Rick had also been elected to Seat D of the Bettles City Council. Unanimously. Well, almost; eight total votes, one questioned. He searched another one of the half dozen booths. “Do you remember where was I sitting last night? It’s just two keys on a ring.” Kevin and I joined him on the floor. I had been in Bettles for less than 24 hours and I was already doing my part for the electorate.
13
The locals I flew in from Fairbanks on Wright Air and (eventually) landed safely on the air strip behind the lodge. Without a bundle of toilet paper or a load of groceries in tow, it came as no surprise to anyone else on the plane that I was a tourist. We were in the air 15 minutes before the last vestige of the road system— the narrow brown line of the Dalton Highway— veered out of sight. Before reaching Bettles on the flight locals call the “milk run,” we touched down in Hughes and Allakaket. In each village, the plane was greeted on gravel airstrips by small swarms of four wheelers, as people loaded and unloaded supplies and offered farewells and hellos. As we came into Hughes, we passed through air currents coming off Indian Mountain. The bottom seemed to fall out of the plane, a beeping erupted from the pilot’s control panel and I found my hand on the thigh of the man sitting next to me whose name I would later learn
was Super Dave. “It’s alright. It’s a small plane,” he said, after the plane smoothed out. Super Dave was on his way to Bettles to cover for the guy who maintained the power plant and who had to leave town for an eye appointment. He had also come with a pack full of pork ribs. “We’re having a rib cook off on Sunday. Last time I was here, I was challenged.” To an outsider, just living in Bettles—a small town 35 miles north of the Arctic Circle—may seem like a mark of stoicism. When I asked people how often they left town, they were nice enough to answer. It’s a question they expect from someone just visiting, but it seems to be beside the point. Eddie Shanahan, who works part time for Bettles Lodge, but whose dog, Timber, is there full time, told me that he had left in June for a doctor’s appointment
PERSONALIZED CARE FOR A LIFETIME
in Fairbanks, but before that, it had been three years since he had been away. Of course, it was my mistake— to see living in Bettles as a narrowing of some sort. Irene Holly, who operates the town’s road grader, first settled in Bettles in 1977—after a plane crash. She had been stranded in the woods for 10 days when a search party from Bettles found her. “They took me back to Bettles, and I just fell in love with the people.”
Fresh start
(907) 222-9930 ◆ DenaliOBGYN.com 4001 Dale St., Ste. 105, Anchorage, Alaska 99508 PREFERRED PROVIDER WITH PREMERA BLUE CROSS , CIGN A AND AETN A
Get those beautiful legs back!
The one year-round business in town is Bettles Lodge, which was built in 1953, making it the first permanent structure erected in Bettles. Together with its newer companion, the Aurora Lodge, it sits along the Bettles airstrip and serves as a popular stopover for pilots refueling on their way up to the North Slope. It’s also a launch point for adventurers headed into Gates of the Arctic National Park and Kobuk Valley National Park, two of the most remote national parks and sought after by bucket listers trying to check off all 59. In recent years, the lodge has also attracted a large number of mid-winter visitors coming up to view the aurora. As it happens, the same conditions that make Bettles an optimal place for landing planes—the clear skies and cold dry air of “the Arctic desert”—make it arguably one of the best places in the world to view the northern lights, or as Bettles Lodge owner Eric Fox calls them, “‘The lights,’ because they’re not north of you here. They’re above you.” If it sounds like Eric speaks with the fervor of the newly converted, it’s because he is. After a career in Illinois that spanned construction, bartending and telecommunications, he and his wife, Heather, bought Bettles Lodge in early 2014. While she travels back every few weeks for work, Eric has tried to stay in town as much as he possibly can. “If you told me 10 years ago I would be running a lodge in the Arctic, in a town of 10 people, I would have said you were crazy. But I wouldn’t go back for the world.” As he toured me around town in the lodge’s van, I got the sense that he was finally where he wanted to be—the big backyard of youth, with the chance to show off its wildness.
15
Dressed almost exclusively in camouflage and boots, with a 12-inch Bowie knife strapped to his thigh, Eric walks everywhere with purpose, but also with the heads-up spark of someone pleased with his good luck in life. We stepped out at the nearby float pond to try the ice, where he stopped mid sentence and stood looking out over the horizon. “You hear that? ... That’s right, not a thing. That’s why I love it here.” And later, while we threw quartz rocks in the shallows of the nearby Koyokuk River, he told me of plans to start offering gold panning excursions: “This wouldn’t be one of those off-the-road gold panning places where they throw five or six flecks of gold in your pan. We could make it into real Alaska gold panning.”
Government of the people Like Rick, Eric has even thrown his hat into the ring of local government, if unwittingly. “I was out of town for my first city council meeting, and I came back to find out I was the Bettles fire chief.” And his wife, Heather? She’s the new mayor. By 9 p.m. on my first night at the lodge, the
northern lights spanned the entire width of the horizon, a band of white just several degrees above the peaks of the Brooks Range and the Jack White mountains. As it got later and the sky grew darker, the band moved up higher in the sky, and the lights began to turn and flicker as they do. We would be shut out by overcast clouds on the second night, as is the risk with aurora chasing. But for one night we got lucky. We stood around a bonfire outside the lodge—Eric, his mother, Sandy, his Aunt Pat and me. The bonfire was the only source of light for miles around.
16
Occasionally, a person—Super Dave, Rick, Kevin, Eddie—would walk by and look up, and we would chat, chins up, eyes on the sky. We spotted constellations, and not so easily explainable flashes of light. We discussed the possibility of satellites crashing down where we stood (slight), and extraterrestrial life (fair to middling). The hardcore aurora viewers, Eric explained—the ones who fly up to Bettles with tripods and cameras—often stay up all night. If the lights are really going, he will offer to come by the lodge in the middle of the night to knock on doors. But tonight we were casual observers, and I got to experience what I like to feel when playing tourist—that is, a part of things. Earlier that night, Rick and Super Dave had been trying to convince Lindsey Cowan, one of the Bettles Lodge employees, not to leave. She had plans to become a physical therapist’s assistant and was moving closer to the University of Alaska Anchorage. All of us were drinking beers and laughing. “They don’t want you in Eagle River,” said Super Dave. “Seriously, you’re not fit to live anywhere else but here.” “You see,” Rick turned to me, “we’re the End of the Worlders here.”
• Exclusive Qiviut garments in Alaskan villagepatterns. • Hand-knitted by over 200 Eskimo knitters
OOMINGMAK
Downtown Location Corner of 6th & H 604 H Street, Dept. ADN, Anchorage, AK 99501 To ll Free 1-888-360-9665 • (907) 272-9225 • www.qiviut.com
Matt Reed is a freelance writer living in Anchorage, Alaska. His writing has appeared online and in print in 61°North, Alaska Innovator, The Nevada Review and other journals. He is currently in a race against global warming as he tries to finish a novel set in the ski industry.
17
A SPRING HUNT IN THE CHUKCHI SEA DRIFT ICE by Megan Spurkland
ITH A BOMB BOX AT MY FEET and a 12-pack of Coca-Cola on my lap, I considered my odds. I was in a 16-foot aluminum skiff with four Inupiaq hunters and three rifles. My oversized white parka and the five layers underneath made it feel like summer, but one look at the shore-fast ice of Kivalina that we were pushing off of and the drift ice on the horizon told me otherwise. The skiff had a leak, which Lowell, the captain, found as soon as we were underway. There wasn’t a life jacket in sight, only a white buoy wrapped with green line and tied to the darting gun. I imagined the lance buried in a whale and us dragging along behind it. Chances of coming back in one piece were pretty slim, I decided. The wolverine ruff of my borrowed parka whispered against my face as we slowed down near the edge of the drift ice. The bloodstained parkas of the two men sitting in front of me belonged to Frank the Elder, a quiet wrinkled man whom everyone
teased and adored, and Tiny. Tiny, whose real name was Darin, was a tall, commanding figure with a deep tan from days of ocean and snow. His flashing eyes had met mine the day before as I skied up beside the skiff. He invited me to follow, a term used in the villages for going along on a hunt without actually hunting. Those same eyes now squinted over the jumbled ice to see onto the flat ice and open leads that lay just out of sight. We searched for spouts, small circles of calm water that are left when a whale submerges, and the dark, sleeping bodies of seals. A flurry of excitement went through the boat as Lowell, from his tall vantage point behind the plywood steering console, thought that he caught the flash of belugas against a distant pack of ice. “Sisuaq!” We flew along through narrow paths of open water as he calculated where the whales would pass by us. I leaned forward with wide eyes as Lowell gunned the skiff straight at a large floe. We all leapt out and dragged the skiff up until just the outboard
18
hung above the water. Tiny arranged the grapple hook while Lowell’s wife, Mary, kept her binoculars trained on the edges of the lead. Even though we all did our best to stifle sneezes and tiptoe around, the whales never materialized. Harpoons were re-wrapped in caribou hides, and we pushed the skiff back into the water and started searching for ugruk, or bearded seal. Tiny spotted a swimming seal (booeeroq) and took one careful shot. They pulled the skiff and the seal up onto the ice and we all watched as Lowell cut a straight line through the rich blubber layer and ribs, pulling the intestines out into a pile. The heat of the heart melted the snow and ice around it. Blood ran off the ice and mixed with the reflection of white clouds. Frank the Elder took the top off the Stanley thermos and poured several cups down the gut rope to rinse it out. Tiny knelt down and made a beautiful, fleshy daisy chain. I asked him why he did that. “Because that’s what makes the women happy!” he laughed, eyes twinkling.
This delicacy, called ingalaq, would be boiled, cut into small rings with an ulu and dipped in French’s mustard. A second seal was spotted, and this time it was a qaqimaraq, or a sleeper. We pulled down our white hoods and Lowell kept the outboard at a steady rpm. Tiny crouched low and shot once, followed it with a well-flung harpoon and secured a huge ugruk. Mary looked on as Lowell began the tough job of gutting this much larger seal and started estimating how many gallons of seal oil the blubber would render for their family. The day had been almost windless, and as Tiny’s strong hands squeezed down the length of the intestines, a breeze kicked up, blowing the smoke from his dangling cigarette and shifting the floe we were standing on away from the main ice pack. We were on a piece of sea ice no bigger than 12 feet by 12 feet, with our precious Lund skiff still in the water, bow line held tightly in my hand. Our miniature island moved quickly through the ocean, as did the
19
rest of the ice, closing off previously open passages and pushing a bank of fog toward us. The men wrestled the enormous bulk of the seal with a new sense of urgency. Mary held her phone up into the sky at different angles, trying to get enough service to tell her daughter we were coming home with two ugruk. It took us hours to get back to the village that night, bearded seals on thin lines twirling in our wake, slowly rinsing free of their thick red blood. Lowell kept busy in the stern bailing water from the leak he had found in the morning. Tiny relaxed in the way that men do after a successful hunt, crawling to the bow with my camera to snap a photo of us all. Mary dug through her pack for sandwich makings. We balanced pieces of white bread on our knees as she passed around a bag of Kirkland Signature presliced ham. A thermos of “snickerdoodle” coffee kept us warm, and we spread aqutuq, or eskimo ice cream, on miniature pilot bread. Tiny contributed a bag of dried caribou strips to the cramped and happy
potluck. Mary gave an approving nod as she noticed Tiny’s tiny New Testament in a quart Ziploc. “I always bring it,” he said, “so I can have a good hunt.” “I have a Bible app on my phone,” she replied, “so it’s always with me too. Good hunting.” A yellow snowgo and a giant wooden sled were waiting on the edge of the ice as we arrived. I spent the gold and pink hours of an April Arctic evening skinning and quartering the two ugruk with Mary and Lowell’s daughter, Amanda, and her grandmother. We wore plastic gloves and old clothes and chose sharp blades from a big pile of ulus. My ulu wove its way around the ball joints of flippers and through the rich blubber, leaving enormous round seal skins on the ice. Little girls wandered out late into the night to shyly ask if they could help. We stood up often with grimaces and jokingly asked each other where the Motrin was. The largest backbone had to be cut in half at the end and as my blade easily found the disk to cut through, Lowell’s mother praised me in a tiny, high voice. “Ah, Megan!
20 You Callie Torres! You bone doctor!” I crawled into my sleeping bag in the village school that night, the hum and blinking red lights of 20 Internet routers filling the silent darkness. I had grown up gazing at Machetanz paintings and thinking that these scenes only existed in antique stores. Today I had been given the chance to step into that canvas, white parka and all. What I didn’t expect to find in that painting was laughter, CocaCola, a Bible app or pre-sliced ham. I had definitely not anticipated being given a “Native name” from “Grey’s Anatomy.” It was everything I had imagined and nothing that I expected. Curling into the tangle of chair legs and extension cords around me, I sobbed out loud. It turned out that I hadn’t come back in one piece; my bright red heart was out there on that endless white ice, more alive than it had ever been and beating hard under a deep blue night sky. Megan Spurkland was born in Homer, Alaska, to an adventuresome set of parents who brought their children along for many months of remote living. She was raised on a trapline in Twin Lakes, in piles of log peelings as they built a scribe-fit cabin on Big River, in tarped-over moose camps and in the sharp tide-rips of Cook Inlet. Megan splits her time between cross-country skiing in the winter and running a salmon seine boat in Prince William Sound during the summer.
The 8th Annual Christmas Village features over 100 vendors along with Santa and his elf. This event is a great way to find last minute gifts for everyone on your list... all under one roof! Don’t forget your camera for photos with Santa!
Saturday, December 19 • 10AM to 6PM Dena’ina Center • 7th and F Street • Downtown Anchorage
21
FTER SEVERAL HOUSING booms, building contractors across the state discovered that construction techniques and standards from the Lower 48 were not meant for circumpolar regions (where temperatures can drop to minus 70 degrees). Windows fogged, moisture froze in the walls, and in the springtime, walls would literally weep. Mold was accompanied by rot and its structural implications, while the indoor air quality was unacceptably poor. Because energy was also used inefficiently, utility bills were through the roof. In response, members of the Alaska State Home Builders Association decided the Cold Climate Housing Research Center (CCHRC) was needed. Founded in 1999 by Jack Hébert, CEO, the nonprofit corporation based in Fairbanks
focuses on finding cost-effective, healthy housing methods with three programs: 1. Building/science/research to test ventilation, energy systems and geophysical technologies. 2. Architects and designers work closely with rural housing authorities for climate appropriate housing. 3. Policy research to look at the economics and how the state can save money. “Quality in Alaska [structures] has improved exponentially due to demonstrating new techniques and advancing new techniques,” said Hébert. “We make progress as we study and understand it. The real challenge, which continues to be a challenge, is affordability. How can we design and build what the market can afford?”
22
Begin with the bid One of the biggest obstacles to healthy, sustainable shelter is obtaining materials with which to build. What costs $10 million to construct in Anchorage might be $18 million in a village, because material must either be flown in or brought by barge. “Most jobs in remote areas are competitively bid, so we first have to look at access—how to get to the job, both in terms of people and the day-to-day needs. This means routing and cost to move material, how often the barge service runs, cost per pound, etc.,” said Clayton Arterburn, general manager of UIC Construction LLC. “The basics aren’t going to happen if these details aren’t figured out ahead of time.” UIC Construction, established in 1978, specializes in remote construction in Arctic and subarctic Alaska. It is a wholly-owned subsidiary of Ukpeaġvik Iñupiat Corporation, a Native-owned, Barrow-based company that employs almost 2,000 individuals in Alaska and beyond.
Before any project bid, the company asks several pertinent questions: How will the foundation be installed? Are soil aggregates needed? What resources, material and equipment are available in the area? Are there houses to rent, or does a temporary camp need to be brought in for workers? Is the existing workforce strong, or will additional training be required? UIC Construction prides itself on hiring locals, with as much as 70 percent of any workforce stemming from the project area. “We try to leave as many dollars as we can in the village,” said Arterburn. The distance directly affects the time a project can start, as it may take several months to move material to a remote worksite. Once a project is in process, however, the change in seasons and weather generally does not bring construction to a halt. “We had to put a roof on in Barrow in winter,” Arterburn said, offering an example. “It was difficult, and there were cost implications (because it’s cheaper in summer), but the roof had to go on in the middle of winter, so that’s when it had to go on.”
23 Think inside the log Venetie, a Gwich’in village in the Yukon Flats School District, needed a new teacher housing complex. Partnering with the Alaska Housing Finance Corporation and the local tribal council, the CCHRC’s priority was to employ local labor and local materials. The center also took a communityminded approach to design by incorporating cultural elements from the log-cabin village and its historic past. An all-local crew, trained to use a sawmill owned by the tribe, harvested timber from the surrounding spruce forest on the bank of the Chandalar River. Because logs can require several years to season, residents harvested the standing dead which are drier than live trees. Space was provided to allow logs to further dry and settle.
For insulation, the CCHRC recommended spray foam. Spray foam is actually one of the more expensive options, but because it travels in liquid form, and expands to 30 times its original size when used, the center determined this material had the greatest insulation value per mass. Teachers moved into the new four-plex in November 2014. Staff monitored the walls’ moisture content along with overall fuel usage. Results so far show the complex has reduced fuel use by 90 percent, according to the CCHRC. Venetie is just one of dozens of ongoing projects the CCHRC has statewide, all with the goal of finding healthy, durable and sustainable cold-climate shelter. As its founder Hébert says, “Learning is a process— one that is never finished.”
Stephanie Prokop is a freelance journalist specializing in business and technology. Part-time traveler, fulltime bookworm, she resides in Anchorage with her husband.
Great Exercise for Energetic and Aging Dogs!
An unforgettable multi-sensory experience
Now on view at the Anchorage Museum Excellent Way to Keep Your Aging Dog Mobile and Active Gift Certificates/Punchcards Fun Family Outing Assisted Swims Available Unique Holiday Gifts for Your Favorite Dog and Dog Lover
VANGOGH-ALIVE.COM ANCHORAGEMUSEUM.ORG The Experience has been created by Grande Exhibitions
alaskak9aquatics.com // 907-677-7946 ARCTIC + WEST INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT ROAD Photo copyright Paw-prints, Howls and Purrs!
24
by Kirsten Swann HE ALASKA NATIVE Customary Art Show at the annual Alaska Federation of Natives convention is a feast for the senses: Shoppers exchange greetings in English and a half-dozen Alaska Native languages, jostling together among tables laden with eye-catching beaded jewelry, intricately woven grass baskets, delicate ivory carvings and other art. In the middle of the crowded Dena’ina Civic and Convention Center floor, one booth stands out from the rest. Annette Wilson’s table is covered in big, luxurious piles of fur. Pale lynx, bright red fox, dark brown beaver and smooth, speckled sealskin lay heaped together. Several gray wolf pelts are draped around the booth. The animals were all trapped by Wilson and her husband, then tanned and sold as pelts or cut and sewn into hats, mittens, scarves, pillows, purses, belts and more. Wilson herself is a skilled skin sewer—a craft honed by Arctic necessity and
passed down through generations. In Alaska, sewing fur is a connection to family, culture and the land. Wilson lives, traps and sews in King Salmon, a community on the shore of the Naknek River at the base of the Alaska Peninsula. Situated more than 280 miles southwest of Anchorage, the town is the gateway to Katmai National Park and the transportation hub for the Bristol Bay region, a place rich in natural beauty and resources. According to the Marine Conservation Alliance, Naknek-King Salmon fisheries are among the most productive in the world. Every summer, the community is flooded with seasonal workers and the waters teem with commercial fishermen. And every fall, after the workers go home and the canneries close, it’s time to trap. Wilson and her family begin setting their traps Thanksgiving weekend, she said. They travel by snowmachine or ATV, through woods and wetlands
25 and miles of wilderness, occasionally spending the weekend in a little cabin they keep for that very purpose. “It’s just so nice,” Wilson said. “Even if we’re in a tiny community, it’s still nice to get out.” The state’s Department of Fish and Game issues trapping licenses for regions around the state, allowing Alaskans to harvest everything from coyote to arctic fox to mink. King Salmon sits within the bounds of Region 9. Wilson, who grew up in the area, has been surrounded by fur since she was a child. Old photos saved in Alaska’s Digital Archives show her posing in front of a line of pelts, playing in an oversized fur parka and standing next to a gray wolf that had been caught in one of her father’s traps. These days, she and her husband catch their own wolves. Wilson’s family also traps wolverines, otters, fox, lynx and beavers. To transform the plush pelts into handsewn art, Wilson makes careful cuts with sharp blades. River otters boast approximately 373,000 hairs per square inch, while wolverine pelts—weighing around seven ounces per square food—are among the heaviest and most durable, according to Alaska Department of Fish and Game. Using tiny, strong stitches, the seamstress crafts beautiful, sturdy goods designed to protect their wearers from freezing winter temperatures. Over the years, Wilson says she’s learned to use every part of the fur. A lynx’s legs might be used in infinity scarves
Voted Best of Alaska
Cosmetic & Reconstructive Plastic Surgery
Michael Manuel, MD • Daniel Suver, MD • Jana Cole, MD 9 07. 56 3. 2 0 02
•
W W W. P SO FA L A SK A .CO M
Annette Wilson
and wraps; small scraps become part of boot cuffs or pillows. Other booths at AFN sell fur moccasins and mittens and hats and ornaments, but none has the variety found at Wilson’s table. Her full-size wolf pelts draw admiring gazes from passersby. Customers stop to run their fingers through sumptuous fur scarves or admire the shine on a sealskin belt or bag. Her business grows by word of mouth. Wilson sells her handicrafts at local events—her community’s big Christmas bazaar, and the annual summer festival known as Fishtival. Customers come from around the state; even Canada. This was her first foray into the Alaska Native Customary Art Show.
26
FITNESS, A WAY OF LIFE FOR NICK HANSON by Kirsten Swann T HOME IN UNALAKLEET, Nick Hanson practices CrossFit with a twist. Sure, he makes daily trips to the gym. He stays active coaching high school sports and Native Youth Olympics (NYO) competitors. But the 27-year-old athlete said the secret to his success has a lot to do with Unalakleet itself—the remote location, the harsh weather and the subsistence-rich diet. “I think the biggest part of staying in shape out here is just the lifestyle,” Hanson said. Hunting builds strength and endurance. Berries plucked from the surrounding landscape are packed with vitamins and minerals, and a single serving of seal meat contains as much iron as approximately 18 hot dogs, according to the Alaska Department of Health and Social Services. For Hanson, fitness in rural Alaska means combining modern methods with innate traditional knowledge and a deep love of the land that raised him. His father has European roots; his mother’s Inupiaq. Hanson’s always been active. As a child, his family moved to Eagle River for a few years and he learned to play hockey and baseball. Back in Unalakleet, he played basketball—probably the most popular sport in any rural Alaska community. He wanted to do more, so he took up cross-country running, wrestling and volleyball. He was a frequent competitor at NYO, where he learned to excel at games like the scissor broad jump, the bench reach, the blanket toss and the toe kick.
27
After graduating from Frank A. Degnan High School, Hanson went on to study civil engineering at the University of Alaska Anchorage. He enrolled in a college weight training class and learned about proper nutrition—lessons that only reinforced the things Alaska Natives have instinctively known for centuries, he said. A few years later, he returned to Unalakleet, where he began working as a teacher’s aide, then a coach. He began teaching students to compete in basketball, volleyball, wrestling, cross-country running and the NYO games. And he loved it. “It was the best feeling to show kids what I do,” Hanson said. “This is what I want to do for the rest of my life.” Under his direction, Unalakleet’s young athletes flourished. They grew stronger, ran faster and jumped higher. When Hanson first began coaching NYO more than five years ago, there were 12 athletes. Now there are more than 20. In 2015, the Bering Straits Native Corporation gave Hanson a Young Providers Award for his contributions to the health and well-being of his family, community and culture. It’s important to lead by example, Hanson said.
So he never misses a workout. A 30-day fitness challenge offers a glimpse into his habits: Nourish your body with plenty of water, fruit and vegetables. Do lunges, squats, push-ups, sit-ups and high-knee exercises. Run. Play. Move every day. When Hanson won a coveted spot on the hit NBC show “American Ninja Warrior” last summer, he made his own makeshift training course out of sheets of plywood, driftwood logs and other materials. While he builds muscle in the weight room, he builds stamina and adaptability outside, doing many of the same things Alaska Native people have been doing forever. Summer means diving into local swimming holes, reeling in pounds of fish, running, hiking, biking and taking advantage of all the extra hours of daylight. As the season turns, caribou hunting means traveling over miles of rough terrain. Even winter’s biting winds and frigid cold can’t keep him inside: Hanson has an incurable case of cabin fever. One favorite cold-weather pastime involves climbing nearby Ayuu Hill, sliding down the steep face and landing in the soft snow at the bottom. Do it again and again and again. The next day, Hanson said, your body will be sore in ways you never knew it could. It’s exhausting but fun, the way exercise should be. One tip for staying fit, no matter the weather? You have to dress for it, Hanson said. It’s a lifestyle.
Kirsten Swann writes for the Special Content department at Alaska Dispatch News and loves looking for new ways to share old stories. At home in Anchorage, she most enjoys writing about all the fascinating people and places that make up daily life in the Last Frontier.
28
by Jamey Bradbury HE FIRST THING I TELL ANYONE when I describe Miss Arctic Circle is that it’s not a beauty pageant,” explained reigning queen Elizabeth Ferguson. There’s no evening gown runway, no swimwear category (“Thank God!”). There is a talent portion, but you’re unlikely to see any flaming batons. For her talent, Ferguson showcased her photography and talked about the importance of picture-taking to preserve a culture. Because that’s what Miss Arctic Circle is all about: culture. A Kotzebue native, Ferguson has firm roots
in her Inupiaq heritage. But those roots didn’t stop her from moving to Minnesota for school—and her independence didn’t prevent her from coming back home to create opportunities for other young people. “From a young age, I was always on the go,” Ferguson said as she reflected upon her childhood spent chasing after her older brothers and visiting her grandfather’s fish camp. “I guess that hasn’t really changed.”
29
Early lessons As a kid, Ferguson wasn’t a tomboy or a girliegirl—she was everything, went through every phase. In middle school, she tried cross-country running, volleyball and basketball, but she found her niche with cheerleading. “It was a good outlet for us girls to spend time together in a really healthy way,” she says. “Middle school is usually drama and little fights. I didn’t realize until later on how big an impact that had— doing cheer and getting so close to the girls on my team.” She described the Kotzebue Huskies cheer team as a “Cinderella story,” with the girls going from failure at their first competition in Nome to becoming three-time champions at the Top of the World Cheer and Dance Competition. It was an early lesson in team effort and personal perseverance. “There were six of us, all working toward the same goal, and sometimes it felt like we were cheering not only against the other teams, but against the judges and the crowd and our maybe-not-so-supportive administration. People think it’s just dancing, but it’s so hard on your body. I love the challenge of it.”
Cultural beauty Ferguson was surprised to find that same camaraderie and sense of sisterhood at the competition for Miss Arctic Circle. As a pageant that emphasizes culture over beauty, Miss Arctic Circle offers young women an opportunity to share the history, language and experience of their diverse heritages. “I don’t think I would be comfortable in a regular pageant,” Ferguson said. After being crowned Miss Arctic Circle, she went on to compete for the title of Miss World Eskimo-Indian Olympics, which she also won. “With both, I never felt pressured to be beautiful or look a certain way. The only thing being judged on looks is your regalia—like, how authentic is your fur parka?” Her pageant regalia is a story in itself, having come from several family members, including one Iowa aunt who shipped a parka that arrived only four hours before the pageant’s grand entrance commenced. Ferguson’s mentor, Cathlynn Greene, loaned a pair of mukluks worn by her own mother. “A lot of the stuff I wore was made by seamstresses and people who had already passed, and it was, like, the last thing they’d stitched together,” Ferguson said. “There was a lot of history there.”
30 Ferguson meets President Barack Obama during his visit to Kotzebue High School in Kotzebue on Sept. 2, 2015.
You can go home again For someone who is always on the go, Ferguson is nevertheless consistently drawn back to her own community. She was crowned Miss Arctic Circle in Kotzebue, surrounded by friends and family. And after moving to Minnesota to pursue a degree in psychology, she decided to become a paramedic instead—a career switch that led her back to her hometown. “I think kids often have this perception that there’s nothing here in town for them,” she said. “But our community has a lot to offer, a lot going on.” That’s due, in part, to Ferguson herself. Part of the responsibilities of most titleholders, like Miss USA or Miss America, is to raise awareness around an issue about which she cares. But the reigning Miss Arctic Circle isn’t interested in just talking about
issues; she’s interested in action. Her middle-school-aged sister, Victoria, inspires most of Ferguson’s efforts, including the youth council she and a few friends just started. “I love working with kids that age because they’re still malleable,” she said. “They’re starting to think about different issues, and if you can get to them at that time, maybe you can change their perception.” Ferguson is helping organize an advisory board for the council, which has already hosted a week of events promoting suicide awareness and raised money for breast cancer awareness. “We’re just trying to show that young people are interested in giving back to the community and that we are a real presence in town,” she explained.
31 Next up This summer, Ferguson penned her Miss Arctic Circle entry essay while chaperoning a handful of kids at an East Coast Six Flags. The trip was a reward for kids who had participated in an essay contest Ferguson organized for middle-schoolers during her stint as an intern for the Northwest Arctic Bureau. The winners of the contest later took on the Gen-I challenge, which encourages community engagement among Native youth. Despite her hectic schedule, Ferguson decided to take the challenge, too, and wound up hosting a twoday youth leadership summit in Kotzebue—an effort that landed her a spot at the White House Tribal Youth Gathering, where she just happened to meet
First Lady Michelle Obama. “Michelle Obama is so sweet! I only had a brief moment with her, but she was so genuine,” Ferguson said. She got to hug the First Lady and hear her speak to the group of 1,000 participants. At the gathering, Ferguson garnered some attention for her outfit, which included her Miss Arctic Circle jade-and-ivory tiara and her sash, with her title spelled out in sealskin. Appearance, though, was the last thing on Ferguson’s mind; she was already thinking about the future. “It was a cool experience because now I know what to expect,” she said. “Now I can work a lot harder to get more youth from our area this opportunity.”
Jamey Bradbury is a freelance writer in Anchorage. She also writes for Alaska Life Publishing and Alaska Contractor Magazine.
get your
HOLIDAY SPARKLE on at second run
am
pm
32
How would you spend your perfect day? I’d start at my house and drink coffee with my dad, and then hop in a boat and go upriver, find a mountain. First, I’d picnic on the beach, then hike the mountain, have a cup of coffee at the top, then boat home. What’s the last book you remember enjoying? The Girl on the Train. I read it while traveling this summer, and finished it on a plane. What is your superpower? It would be flying. I’m actually really scared of flying in planes, but if I could fly on my own, I’d save money, time and my own peace of mind. Favorite place to travel? Minnesota. I actually lived there, but it’s my favorite place. What life question are you still trying to answer? I don’t ask questions; I take things as they come. Who would you invite to your fantasy dinner party? Judy Garland—she’d be fun to have dinner with. Her, Michelle Obama and my best friend. What did Michelle Obama say to you when you met? She told me she was proud of me. She also wanted to hug everybody, which I think freaked out her security team. What do you do to unwind? If I’m having a bad day, I go out and take a ride with my camera and just take pictures of anything.
33 Favorite Kotzebue tradition? Ice fishing. Where I live, we’re surrounded by water. In the spring, there’s half the community out there, and it feels like a huge get together. Favorite place to eat? This restaurant in Kotzebue called Uutuku (which means small; if you could see the building you would understand why they named it that).
the events I go to. I have this box of them, with just my name written, over and over and over… Who are you named after? My middle name, Niiqsik, is after my great grandma, Florence Harris. Do you count down the days until summer or winter? Winter. I love snow machining around.
What’s the last concert you loved? I’ve only been to one! Mariah Carey.
What’s your guilty pleasure? Netflix.
Who do you go to for advice? It depends on the nature of the advice. Generally my best friend.
How do you decide what to wear? I just grab what’s there.
What is your favorite holiday tradition? Just spending time with family. What do you collect? I feel like I’m at the age where I’m going to start forgetting, so I’ve been collecting the name tags from all
What’s your favorite food? I love seal meat—just plain boiled, that’s how we eat it. How did you feel when you were crowned Miss Arctic Circle? It was reassuring because I doubt myself a lot. All these people were proud of me and saying I was doing amazing things—I thought, why can’t I believe in myself? So when I got crowned, it was like, “Girl, believe in yourself!”
34
TRANSFORMING STINKY, OVERLOOKED BERRIES INTO JELLY GEMS by Laura Sampson
UTSIDERS ARE OFTEN SURPRISED to learn that beyond fishing and hunting, many Alaskans grow, forage, can, dehydrate, ferment and freeze many different foods to stock their pantries before the snow flies. But we do and I dare say it isn’t because it’s trendy or even that it can save our lives in the winter. There’s another, deeper reason: It ties us to our family roots, times spent with our loved ones, the traditions of our past, and we honor the memories
of our families by sharing their wisdom with the newest generations. One of my favorite things to put up in my pantry is a good highbush cranberry jelly. I know you’re probably thinking those berries taste terrible, and at first I felt the same way. When I was 23 years old with a 6-month-old baby, my then mother-in-law said it was time to make highbush cranberry jelly. I kept the “Ew, disgusting, no one eats those!” thoughts to myself and instead packed every single thing a new
mom might need to go into the woods at Russian Jack Park to pick berries for an hour. A stroller, snacks, water, a back pack, sanitizer, sling, full diaper bag and extra diaper bag, just in case. Imagine a 1986 Eagle Wagon packed to the ceiling and you’ll get a feel for what I mean. We parked in a sunny lot filled with gorgeous September light shafting down through yellow birches. I stepped out and inhaled a deep, crisp breath. The smell was something I had never identified—it just smelled like fall, but now I know it was the deep musky smell of highbush cranberries filling the air. We stepped into the woods and began filling our buckets with an abundance of berries. I’d left all the junk that I’d packed in the car and just wore my son on my back. It was simple, quiet, reverent. I was somehow moved that day, picking highbush cranberries, because of all the days of my son’s first year, that day stands out as one I clearly remember. I’d never made anything with highbush cranberries before. My mother, who kept our pantry so full with canned salmon and moose meat, smoked salmon, jams, jellies and relishes, had somehow missed out on highbush cranberries. Probably growing up with the hustle and bustle of life on a dairy farm in Palmer had something to do with it. My grandmother was doubtlessly just too busy to make jelly from stinky berries. And the jelly making does stink. It isn’t something that makes you want to eat it. But add heat, sugar and time, and highbush cranberries can make a magical transformation into a jelly that is equally perfect as a side note to a rich meal or simply served with toast. Fragrant and delicate, it’s like opening a jar of autumn in Alaska. Breathe deep, inhale, remember that fall day harvesting berries. No other pantry item I’ve made can trigger such a strong emotional tie and leave me straddling my life, one foot in 1993 and the other planted firmly now, in the present. The recipe I put together calls for liquid pectin but you can use any kind of pectin you happen to have— simply follow the directions for making crabapple jelly using highbush cranberry juice instead. Highbush cranberry jelly can also be made without pectin, using equal parts sugar and juice, boiled together until they reach 220 F on a jelly thermometer. I don’t recommend making it this way unless you’re practiced at it or you don’t mind a little failure in the kitchen.
36 Highbush Cranberry Jelly Makes 8 1/2 pints
8 cups highbush cranberries Water 1 pouch liquid pectin Sugar (refer to pectin directions for crabapple jelly) You will need: Deep, heavy-bottom pot for cooking down berries and for jelly making Potato masher Large mixing bowl Cheesecloth, 4 layers, thick enough for straining berries String Baking rack A place to hang the berries to drain* 8 1/2-pint jars with canning rings, canning lids Large-mouth funnel Jar tongs Canning pot deep enough to cover the tops of the jars with an inch of water
Juice the cranberries Wash and pick through berries and discard any debris. If you happened to pick any wild currants out in the woods, don’t worry; they will blend just fine with the highbush cranberries. Add your berries to the deep, heavy-bottom pot. Cover them with an equal amount of water. Bring to a simmer over medium heat and then increase heat to bring the berries to a rapid boil. Using a potato masher, crush the berries while they are boiling to release their juices. Then turn off the heat and let the berries cool slightly; this makes pouring a little less dangerous. Wet the cheesecloth and wring it out and then line the large mixing bowl with it. When the berries have cooled a little, pour them into the cheesecloth-lined bowl. Gather the four corners and tie them securely with the string. Hang them over the bowl and let them drip for a few hours. Hot tip: Lay a baking rack over the top of the bowl. It will prevent a lot of heartache if, for some unknown reason, your bag slips and falls. Once the juices have quit flowing, it’s time to start making jelly. Resist the temptation to squeeze the bag to get out the last of the juice—it will make for cloudy jelly (trust me on this one).
* I have hung the cheesecloth filled with berries off of an upper cabinet hinge or even from a conveniently placed cup hook or, worst case scenario, I’ve placed a kitchen chair on my dining table and hung the bag there to drain.
Turning juice into jelly Set some water to boil for sterilizing jars. Fill the canner deep enough to cover your filled jars and put it on to boil. Wash the jars, fill them with boiling water and set aside. Wash lids and rings and set them in a small saucepan of water over low heat. Once the jars are ready and the canner is set to boil, it’s time to make jelly. Follow the crabapple jelly recipe on the pectin packaging. Once you’ve got finished jelly, skim off any foam and set aside. (That foam makes a great treat for any kitchen helpers—we call it chef’s delight.) Pour the water out of the jars. Fill jars with hot jelly using the wide-mouth funnel. Wipe the rims with a clean cloth to remove any jelly. Place a hot lid and ring on each jar, tighten and repeat with remaining
jars. Use the jar tongs to lower the jars into the water canner. Make sure the water in the canner covers them by an inch. Put the lid on and return to a boil. Let it boil for 10 minutes. Use the tongs to remove the jars from the canner and place on a heavy layer of dish towels or even a clean bath towel. Let them sit undisturbed until cool. If you did it right, you’ll start hearing a little ping each time a jar lid seals. Once cool, check for sealed jars by pressing on the middle of each lid. If the lid moves, the jar isn’t sealed. You should put those jars in the refrigerator and use them right away. Sealed jars can be put in the pantry to open and enjoy all winter long.
Laura Sampson is a lifelong Alaskan, born and raised in Palmer, where she now lives with her husband and three sons. She currently writes the food blog Hey What’s for Dinner Mom?, which focuses on getting good food on the table with a minimum of expensive fuss. When she isn’t writing or developing recipes she can be found barefoot in the garden, or volunteering in her boys’ school or working on her new project, the Palmer Food Swap, a food swap group that meets the second Saturday in Palmer.
free shipping to our local customers
Excellence in cancer treatment in an environment of hope and compassion.
Richard T. Chung, M.D. I Stephen H. Settle, M.D., Ph.D. John S. Yordy, M.D., Ph.D. I Aaron S. Kusano, M.D.
ANCHORAGE: 2841 DeBarr Road, Suite 100 - 907.276.2400 PALMER: 2490 S. Woodworth Loop, Suite 150 - 907.745.2900
alaskaradiationtherapy.com AVRTC 61 Degrees AD_3.625 x 4.75_1028.indd 2
10/28/15 3:45 PM
www.piasweaters.com
277-7964
38
A SNEAK PEEK AT FOOD PREP FOR ALASKANS WHO LIVE BEYOND FRED MEYER
LASKANS KNOW HOW TO LIVE OFF THE LAND. Whether we use berries plucked from the tundra, fish pulled from the river or eggs collected along the coastline, there’s a dish to suit every taste. Take a look at some of the traditional foods gathered and prepared around the state.
“In the summer, we gather edible greens like wild sour dock ... We pick it from the tundra, cook it and freeze it. And then we use it as akutaq—Eskimo ice cream. We use Crisco—maybe two cups of Crisco, maybe three cups of sugar. Thaw sour dock, drain, chop and mix. We also pick salmonberries, crowberries, blueberries, cranberries.” —Elena Dock Kipnuk , Alaska
“We go by boat—me and my husband and my grandchildren. And then we seine with the fish net: throw the fish net in, float, fish, cut it up, preserve it, salt it, smoke it, dry it, jar it ... I just put my fish in a jar, and then I put maybe three-quarter teaspoon of salt (it’s a pint jar), then maybe jalepeños, brown sugar, something like that. Then cover it and pressure cook it for 90 minutes. Or we half-dry some of our fish—we cut it and we salt it and we smoke it for about two days, then we jar it like that. Delicious.” —Mathilda Huntington Koyukuk, Alaska
40 “We cut [the fish] into strips and we soak them in the brine, then we hang them up in the smokehouse and we smoke it with either alderwood or cottonwood, whichever the family prefers to use. And we leave it in there until we feel it’s done ... My favorite is actually smoked king strips. The king has a higher fat content and it makes it a little more oily, and it’s a much more rich fish.” For pickled fish: “What we do is we salt it for about a month, pickle it with carrots, onions, cucumber, peppers, apple cider vinegar, brown sugar.” —Andy Morgan Chignik Lagoon, Alaska
When the weather is right and the fall seal hunt is successful, the result is a pile of meat that can be thawed, cut into thin pieces and dried. It can be boiled and fried, or saved for big meals at Thanksgiving or Christmas. Hunters also bring back caribou, which are butchered and frozen, wrapped in layers of plastic bags to prevent freezer burn. The best way to prepare it? Caribou pot roast. —Jerry Moto Deering, Alaska
“My significant other grew up commercial fishing, and I just grew up fishing. I’ve been making smoked salmon since I was 16, and I’m 43 now. I have a whole freezer full of smoked salmon strips, fillets and eggs. We have a smokehouse in the back yard that measures about 4 X 8 feet. We also give a lot of fish away to community members who aren’t able to get their own for whatever reason. I normally bake the fillets and make the eggs into caviar.” —Kathy Ward Kotzebue, Alaska
ASI 61Degrees AD_7.41x4.75_PF.pdf
1
8/15/14
11:22 AM
At Alaska Spine Institute our goal is to get our patients back to life, work & play. Our services include but are not limited to: C
M
• • •
Sports Medicine Back and Neck Pain Physical Therapy
• • •
Pain Management Physical Medicine Electrodiagnostic Studies
Y
CM
(907) 563-8876
MY
CY
CMY
K
Our staff:
• Larry Levine MD • Michel Gevaert MD • Shawn Johnston MD • Sean Taylor MD • Erik Olson DO • Jared Kirkham MD • Shawna Wilson ANP-C
alaskaspineinstitute.com
42
F YOU’VE BEEN FOLLOWING our Instagram feed– @ShareADN–then you’re already familiar with #ALASKAFY. For this issue of What We Love, we took some classic Alaska closet staples and updated them for the fashion forward.
From L.A. to Alyeska, Zendaya is killing it in her midriff-baring hoodie and high-waisted goosedown skirt. Keep your toes dry (and warm) when you slip on your wool socks and chunk wedges. a) Cropped pullover hoodie b) Goose-down high-waisted skirt c) Chunk wedge rubber platform shoes
Don’t worry, we haven’t forgotten about the guys. Behind closed doors, we know Alaska dudes are secretly into the way they look. Whether you’re jamming to trap or tending your trapline, this versatile look is for you. d) Slim fit short sleeve button-up e) Mossy oak canvas skinny joggers
Email us with ideas for our next What We Love feature. Send submissions to special@alaskadispatch.com, subject: What We Love. Or connect with us on social media and share. @ShareADN
@ShareADN
Alaska Dispatch News
*None of the items shown are available in stores. Yet ... All images are Alaska Dispatch News illustrations. Seriously, none of these brands have endorsed the products pictured.
••Denise DeniseThanepohn, Thanepohn,O.D. O.D.••Patrick PatrickReber, Reber,O.D. O.D. ••Jim JimFalconer, Falconer,Jr., Jr.,O.D. O.D.••Ladd LaddNolin, Nolin,O.D. O.D. ••Ian IanFord, Ford,O.D. O.D.••Joshua JoshuaCook, Cook,O.D. O.D. ••Jessica JessicaGiesey, Giesey,O.D. O.D.
Anchorage Anchorage 1345 1345W. W.9th 9thAve Ave 272-2557 272-2557oror800-478-2557 800-478-2557 Mon-Fri Mon-Fri8:30-6:00, 8:30-6:00,Sat Sat8:30-4:00 8:30-4:00
Anchorage AnchorageDaily DailyNews News Best BestOptometrists Optometrists 2007-2015 2007-2014 2007-2014 14 14
Wasilla Wasilla 1700 1700E.E.Parks ParksHwy Hwy 376-5266 376-5266oror800-478-5266 800-478-5266 Tues-Fri: Tues-Fri:8:30-5:30; 8:30-5:30;Sat: Sat:8:30-4:30 8:30-4:30
www.alaskaeyecare.com www.alaskaeyecare.com
Like Likeus uson on
and and
Put Put your your message message in in front front of of tourists tourists and and locals locals looking looking for for things things to to do, do, places places to to go go and and sights sights to to see! see!