Off to the races

Sighted on my Valentine's Day walk

Race season has sprung into high gear!  This week Nome welcomed the mushers of the Paul Johnson Memorial Race, the first sled dog race to have its finish in Nome. This 450-mile race began in Unalakleet and is an Iditarod qualifying race.  A 24-year old heartthrob, Pete Kaiser, finished first and was greeted with Bieber-like fever.  Updates and interviews with the mushers are broadcast on our local radio station by the hour, and I’m starting to pick favorites and become invested in the competitors’ stories.  It’s a little surreal to know more about Lance Mackey than Jeremy Lin.  I may not be living under a rock, but living in Nome certainly pulls you out of the loop.  The internet here is too slow to stream videos (no YouTube), all of the movies that come to our theaters are at least 2 months old, and the only newspaper I have access to is the Nome Nugget.

Sled dogs on their houses - definitely outside dogs

Finish line of the dog sled race

Pete Kaiser finishing first!

Besides dog mushing, another type of racing is also quite popular here.  I have dubbed it “Alaskan NASCAR”; the snowmachine race.  This week hit off the weekly 675-foot drag races on the sea ice.  One man drove his machine all the way from Golovin just to compete in this short sprint!  With a $50 entry fee, even I could join the ranks of these racing elite.  This week also saw the start of the Irondog Race, in which competitors navigate the entire Iditarod trail on their snowmachines rather than with sleds and dogs.  These racers travel at much greater speeds, and must wear duct tape on their faces to prevent frostbite.  Any local kid can name his favorite Irondoggers, and they truly are viewed as celebrities in Nome.

Snowmachiners lined up at the start

In keeping with the celebrity theme, I watched my first episode of Bering Sea Gold this week.  Ian Foster, the owner of the “Sluicy” dredge on the show is an acquaintance of mine; he’s the house parent who had been living in the “palette palace” that I spoke about in an earlier blog post.  It’s strange watching him on television.  I keep thinking back to our conversations about what it’s like living in Nome as a Mormon, playing co-ed softball on our gravel field (ouch!), and using a rousing duet with him playing guitar as I sang to wake up students on the weekend.  If being on the show wasn’t enough, he’s also writing a book about the school that turned him around from a troubled teen to where he is today.  Have I ever mentioned that Nome attracts characters?

Dredge covered in snow

Ian's rig, back in August!

A man with a plan

Due to the buzz of this show, prospectors and adventurous (and possibly misdirected) hopefuls from the lower-48 keep pestering Nome offices, businesses, and organizations asking if there is a mining camp, if just anybody can go and mine the beaches, and if there are any dredges up for sale.  It’s gotten to the point where the Alaska Department of Natural Resources office in Nome has been called once every 5 minutes, with calling being especially heavy on Mondays following the Friday evening show.  More than 300 calls have been received since the show first aired on January 27^th, with more pouring in every day.  Locals are bracing themselves for the gold rush, but officials are trying to encourage people to test out the process before blowing their life savings on a rig.

Despite what the show depicts, setting up shop to dredge isn’t as easy as hopping on a boat and diving into the icy water.  In order to dredge you must have a marine lease, none of which are available now as the bidding wars are long over.  People can pan on West Beach without a permit, however they must be up to their knees in water the whole time.  There is a housing crisis in Nome, and while miners were allowed to live on the beach without water or bathrooms last summer, the excessive noise and pollution complaints may eliminate that option for this year.  Many folks are in an uproar because all too often people come to town with big dreams and little skills or resources, lose all of their money and have no way of getting out of Nome, becoming a drain on the community.  I can only imagine how the popularity of this show, and the unrealistic glory it depicts will impact our little town.

I have continued to enjoy the beautiful weather in Nome, and I can’t express my appreciation and awe in words.  Who knew that spring (or “winter b”, following “winter a”, as some folks call it) could feel so very much like winter, and still be just as revitalizing?  It boggles my mind that daily temperatures have been consistently warmer here than in my hometown in NY.  Sunlight is increasing by an additional 6 minutes each and every day, with an impressive 42 minutes every single week, and a grand total of 3 whole hours by the end of the month!  I am definitely enjoying the physical awakening that the warmth and daylight brings, and am filled with hope.  The worst is over, and it’s just going to get better from here on out.  I can make it!

Putting on tracks to prepare for "winter b" storms

I finished out the session with another week of Arctic Survival instruction.  I went back to my Family and Consumer Sciences roots a bit, and taught the students how to make hardtack.  These survival crackers have provided sustenance to armies from Roman times all the way up to the American Civil War.  If baked correctly, hardtack has the consistency of fired brick (which rather than bitten should be soaked in water before consumption), and has shelf stability for over 200 years.  Call it the twinkie of wilderness survival?  Also in class I taught different knots and their uses, practiced making snares, and held our culminating panel discussion.  Students interviewed elders from the region who are experts in subsistence, hunting, and generally surviving in the arctic.  And who better to hear it from?!

The newest group!

Practicing with an AED

Burrito-wrapping a hypothermia victim

Free time after survival swimming - most kids wear clothes over their suits

Two of the men were from King Island, a dissolved village where all inhabitants have relocated.  When asked what they miss most about their home, they both insist that it’s laughter.  They told stories about hearing laughter across the village wherever they went, but never at another person’s expense.  People just knew how to have fun, and enjoy life with laughter.  I’ve definitely noticed and take pleasure in the fact that my students are more apt to laugh at my jokes than students I taught in NY.  They find humor in everything, and laugh often.  One thing that got a particularly boisterous amount of laughter was my attempt to eat fermented baby walrus.  It was served to me frozen and raw, a slice smaller than a postage stamp.  It was the most potent thing I have ever put into my mouth, and with respect, that’s all I will say.

Some of our expert panel with the kids

I felt so privileged to be able to hear the stories from our experts.  I learned about a population of small-statured, indigenous people that selected to separate themselves from their village to live on the fringe in the wild.  I learned about sightings of sea serpents, narwhales, and sea lions.  I learned that many of my students’ last names are those of religious officials that came to their villages (Paul, Pete, and Steve are all common), or the paternal heads of households.  The last name Pootoogoolook is said to mean “the man with one sock”, and the story goes that the grandfather of this family only ever wore one sock, hence the name.  This anecdote made me want to learn more about the meaning of my last name, which I discovered is “light friend”.  I’ve taken some creative liberties, and imagine that it means I lighten the load of my friends and lift them up.  Cheers to being a Litwin!