Class Cranberry Trip

Tuesday, September 22, our 3rd and 4th grade class went cranberry picking along the old airport strip. The day was chilly with north winds blowing, but we were dressed for the weather! With recycled bubble gum and jam plastic buckets in hand and a couple berry pickers, we walked a short distance on the road to Fannie Moore's house, then turned south on the tundra and picked as we walked toward the old airport. The kids were enthusiastic about picking, and probably because it was our first field trip of the year! It was nice just to get out of the building. We reached a boggy area while going to our destination. After a few attempts to cross it without getting water in our boots, our more experienced boys found one spot where we could cross in a single line. Me and the girls followed their "trail", careful not to take a wrong step in deeper spots. When I looked back at the girls crossing single file, I wished I had my camera! They all had colorful hats on, wind blowing their hair, the golden colored grass almost reaching their shoulders. They looked like leprechauns... common characters in Yup'ik folklore. We all made it across with dry boots. Time passed quickly as we picked. We took another route back to the school and picked more as we went. Today, we cleaned the berries (about 3 gallons) in two giant baking pans and divided them equally between eighteen students to take home. They were pretty happy with their berries, and couldn't wait to show them to their families. On our next field trip, I think we'll go gather bundles of grass, like the Yup'ik people used to do a long time ago. Instead of lining our mukluks with grass, we'll make grass dolls, and maybe do a few science experiments.

He did it!

My oldest son Art became a commercial pilot on September 2 after nearly a year of studying, flying, taking tests, and checkrides. He starting training for his private certificate right after Labor Day last year on Sept. 8, 2008. He flew his solo on November 13 (mom's birthday), got his private license April 1, got his instrument rating in July, and his commercial license this month. Now, he is on a much needed break and going moose hunting. Right after he passed his commercial this month, him and his pilot buddies went on a boat somewhere on the Napaskiak slough to set up camp and hunt. He headed back to Bethel the next day for cake and ice cream at Yuut Yaqungviat, where it's a tradition to have a celebration w/staff and students when a student successfully completes the training. Then it was back to hunting. By the time the season was over in that area, they didn't get their moose. Art went back home to Quinhagak for a few precious days. (I say precious cause he is hardly @ home and I miss him!) Shortly after he got home, he said, "mom, ever since I got done, everyday's been like a Friday. I don't have any studying to do." Anyway, he's hunting now somewhere on the Yukon by Russian Mission. He called this morning and said his friend he went with got his bull yesterday. They went back to the village, unloaded it, and went back out hunting, this time for Art's moose.

Labor Day

Labor Day weekend; Friday here...feeling a bit sorry for myself as this would be the first time in six years I didn't go camping with my sons on the Qanirtuuq River. Been going since my oldest son Art (18) was twelve. Traveling lightly is the rule on this river, so we'd take a few days worth of grub, a tent, and a few other essentials. After about 18 miles "up", there are bends and channels the driver has to negotiate. Water is shallow in most areas. The farther you go, it becomes more like a channel w/white water conditions, not to mention overhung trees. On this weekend, it's a tradition for hunters to be upriver, traveling together in two's or three's in one boat, and eager to bag a catch. Once we reach the mountains, and climb several to look around, the scene is breathtaking. We'd spy bears w/binoculars as they amble along sandbars or jump in creeks after crimson colored sockeyes and silvers. Sometimes we'd spot small herds of caribou, but most of the time they would be inland far from the river. If someone spots a moose that wasn't too far "in", the men would make a quick strategic plan of who would go where, and what creek, so they can have all points covered just in case the moose ran. Before they finish their plan, me and my youngest son would be on our way down the mountain so we wouldn't hold up our "crew". The boys and the men jump in their boats and off we'd go. If the hunt is successful, and the moose butchered, everyone packs it to the boats, and shared among the hunters. This is what happens when more than one hunter is involved. There's times when a couple men who traveled together get one moose and halved between them. But almost always, if another boat comes and sees them butchering or packing it, they would stop and help. Then the hunters would give them a portion of the kill. I miss these kinda hunts. This year, Art went hunting around the Kuskokwim for a week, didn't get one, and is home for a few days before he goes again, this time in the Yukon area. The times he spends at home are precious these days... he lives in Bethel now. More on him later. So back to my Labor Day weekend...my cousin and I decided to go to Goodnews Bay on Friday after work. Evening came and went, but we made it fairly early on Saturday. Just when we got to our host's place, they were getting ready to boat across to Platinum Point to pick berries. Just what we wanted to do! So off we went, all 9 of us in Willie Ayojiak's 24 footer. It was beautiful... blue skies, plenty of blackberries, good company. There were hundreds, thousands it seemed, of migrating geese that would land close by on the point and feast on berries before moving on. A couple squirrels hung around while we picked and didn't seem to mind the company. Picked 6 gallons that day w/a picker, the most I ever got in one day! That evening, we went back on the "small" tide amidst the fog, took a maqi, and slept. We were happy campers that night! The next day, I went on a lone hike up the bigger mountain (of two that are within hiking distance) by Goodnews Bay. The village itself is situated at the end (or beginning) of mountains that go all the way to Anchorage and beyond. Just when I reached the top, the fog set in, and my imagination kicked in... I was on the clouds - just for a moment! The next day, I climbed Mam'aq mountain. By the time we were waiting for our flight back on Monday, I felt the weekend was one of the best I had, and so worth it. It's addicting to travel to nearby places now, as there's only my youngest son Danny and me at home now. These days he goes on his own hunts with his buddies, mainly for birds. I am not into bird hunting like I am into moose...maybe if I got a 410...no, better not get into that.

First Class

Walking home tonight, I met a lil girl. She was obviously going home before it got dark from her friend's house. She surprised me when she boldly said "I'm in first class! What class are you??" I was taken back for a second, because most kids are shy, and, the legitimacy of her simple question to an adult who took it from a different perspective. After a surprised laugh, I answered her "I'm in third and fourth class!" Kids say the darnest things, but this one made me stop and think about the Samaritans that were looked down by the Jews because they were not full blooded Jews, and therefore not first class. Then there's that story about the Caananite woman who begged Jesus to heal her demon possessed daughter. He answered and said he was sent only to the lost sheep of Israel. Still she begged and worshipped Him. He said, It's not right to take the children's bread and throw it to the dogs. She replied and said that even the little pups eat the crumbs that fell from their master's table. I think Jesus was impressed, and told her that her faith was great and her daughter was healed that moment. To me, this situation occurs in some churches who take it upon themselves to make legalistic rules that make it hard for certain people to participate (divorced, separated, gamblers, etc.) I feel like a little dog because I fit that category, but I worship and get involved anyway because God knows my heart. "Unless we repent (change, turn about) and become like little children [trusting, lowly, loving, forgiving], we can never enter the kingdom of heaven."