Five Weeks in St. Paul, Alaska

Back on the Mainland

2010-06-19T17:11:00.006-05:00

It is currently 97 degrees in Mississippi, and it is predicted to be that high until 7 p.m., when it will begin to decline...all the way to 90 at 10 p.m. That always makes me think of this time of year in Alaska and miss the beautiful summer weather "up there."

As the end of the trip neared, August 11, 2008--hard to believe it was only 2 years ago--I was excited that I was going home after 5 weeks. As much as I had loved my time on the island, and the people and relationships, it was time to make the transition. There were only 3 of us on the plane, and though it was overcast, it was not foggy and we took off early. In only minutes, my view of the island was obscured by the clouds.

When we landed in Anchorage, I was shocked to see so much sunlight. I had never realized before this trip that Alaska was 1/3 the land mass of the lower 48. Flying over lakes and trees and mountains, it was incredibly beautiful.

It was strange to look out the window of my hotel and see a city after 5 weeks of living in a small village with one store.

I walked uptown to try to find a place to pick up a few items, and passed a park. I liked the way that local activists' work was incorporated into a tribute to Dr. King.

Me, too, Emma. Awareness is the first step, but if we do nothing beyond the awareness, it is empty.
After 5 weeks of not seeing a tree or a mountain, it was an inspiring site to gaze across the park. I walked on up the street a few blocks, and then back through a neighborhood. I stopped in at a little grocery/deli near my hotel, and was ga-ga over all the fruits, vegetables, chocolates, coffees, and other items. I bought several, along with fresh bread and cheese for a light supper in my room.
I have to admit, I was fascinated with the wallpaper.
One last look out my window at bedtime, knowing this would be the last time for a while that I would see the sun set this late at night.

I wrote in my journal that last night in Alaska: While I have nothing left to say of the grand adventure, I feel the need to keep writing as the thoughts just spill out. Things were so routine and normal the last few weeks on the island that I almost feel giddy with the change. The sunshine, the joy of a sunset behind a mountain, reflecting off the water, dogs playing, and trees and flowers and tall buildings and lights and restaurants and markets with things! St. Paul was an incredible experience without a doubt, and unique. No doubt though, as Chicago and New York have taught me, I am a city girl.

The North East Point

2010-04-23T18:16:00.009-05:00

I know it has been months since I updated, and given that I have been to Belize and South Africa since this trip almost 2 years ago, it seems a bit silly to be posting about it as if I were there right now. However, just a week ago, as I dreamt about being on an island in the Aleutian-Pribilof Chain, clearly St. Paul is still embedded in my psyche.

These were the pictures from the final weekend of the journey that summer.

It was cloudy and dark rain clouds hovering, but they went away with no rain. It felt colder, though.
On closer inspection of the above picture, I spotted something unexplained in the sky. A closer crop still does not explain to me what it was.

The Bering Sea, shrouded in its usual fog.

I could never find the "Ivory Beach" where all the pieces of bone are supposed to wash up. It was supposed to be on this end of the island, and perhaps if I had my walking buddy, I might have been more adventurous in seeking it.

This is the camp house on the northeast point of the island. For $100 a night, you can rent it.

That was the last excursion on the island I called home for 5 weeks.

Homergone Day

2009-10-22T09:03:00.009-05:00

Homergone Day marks the last day of the fur sealing season. One of the residents explained to me that it had to do with the old ship, the Homer, leaving after the last of the pelts were loaded. There is a parade through the village; pick-up trucks with men on the back, tossing seal parts out to the viewers, honking their horns, and waving white flags. The viewers make noise as well, shouting, and traditionally, banging on pots and pans. It did not last long this year. I was in my office with a client when the noise started, and we opened the blinds to watch.

Because it is a "holiday" the Tavern is closed, as is the Beer/Wine store. I asked why, and it seems that holidays are even more reasons to drink, so they do that to reduce alcohol consumption. However, all it seems to do is make folks go buy enough beer to last for 3 days instead of 2.

Although my walking buddy was gone, I headed out for a walk. It is only another week until I will be headed home and I still have things to explore if the weather continues to cooperate.

At low tide, this inlet by the fish processing plant is feeding grounds for small birds. At times, it is hard to tell the birds from the rocks.

Every time I see one of the green hills, I know why they call St. Paul the "Emerald Isle of the Bering Sea." It supposedly looks much like parts of Ireland.
More Deadliest Catch crab cage storage.
I always think weird things--like, how much money did it cost to ship this semi over to the island? It's clear it will be here until the frame totally rusts to dust, and I wondered how old it is. As small as the island is, even though old, how many miles could this truck have? Does the odometer even work any more?
The one and only gasoline station on the island. Fuel was $6 a gallon while I was there. Granted, a fill up should last quite a long time on an island with few roads, but it would still be a hardship on folks with limited income. Many inhabitants do not have cars and walk everywhere. Fortunately, it is small enough for that not to be much of a hardship in terms of distance, but it would be difficult in the winter with snow and ice. There is a taxi service available.

I decided to walk past the crab cages and the industrial section and out toward one of the seal rookeries. The haze across the hills gave everything a surreal effect.

Just past the hill is one of the smaller rookeries and seals were sleeping as they apparently do much of the time.

Although I was not close (standing in the road as you are not allowed to get near them except in the two that have official viewing blinds) they generally all head to the water when anyone gets near.
And in a flash, they are gone!

The Other Side of the Island

2009-10-18T12:34:00.010-05:00

Today was Dr. Lunden's last day at the center and we had planned to go to the other side of the island--the side to which neither of us had been yet. We took the van and headed out at 6 p.m. We drove to the end of the road one way, walked and hiked, and drove to the end of the road the other way and hiked uphill in the sand until we could see the sea.
Otter Island is visible from many different locations on the island; of course, since the whole island is only 4 miles x 5 miles, that is not that difficult.
There is a fairly large lake on this part of the island. Families were walking out in the shallow part and searching for something--a fish or crab perhaps.
A row of poles like this--covered in mossy growth--were along the roadside. We supposed they had at one time carried some type of wire related to communication.
This end of the island was almost all sandy dunes. The sand is the result of the erosion of the volcanic ash, so is quite different from "beach" sand as we typically think of it.

Fox prints in the sand.

We made a last stop at Telegraph Hill on the way back to the center so I could show Alexandr the Forget-me-nots, but alas, I could not find them again. We did note these beautiful blooms springing out of the rocky soil, however.

All in all, a 3 1/2 hour drive/hike. I will miss my hiking buddy. I have enjoyed working with him as well, and hope the future brings another opportunity.

Ballgames, foxes, & psychosocials

2009-10-17T09:48:00.011-05:00

It has been now more than a year since I was in St. Paul, and I continue to think about the experience and the people on a regular basis. Just this week as I was discussing my sabbatical planning with Rando, we talked about St. Paul, the Yukon, and/or some other remote location. My experience on St. Paul was so important for my personal and professional growth, and it would be a perfect place for a sabbatical. While my heart says "go to South Africa" my head tells me there is too much "diversion" for me in South Africa!

The day was July 25, and it had been a good day filled with accomplishments. I made roasted rosemary chicken, mashed potatoes, and sauteed spinach for dinner and shared with my colleagues. Fresh cherries were dessert.

Afterwards, I walked over to the school and visited with the foxes. Mama was watching the kids play from a distance, and as usual, eyed me carefully to see what I was about to do.

I find it amusing how the babies vary--bold one moment, carefully backing off the next moment. Rather like humans, aren't they?
Following a few minutes with the foxes, I headed on over to the softball game. Several of my co-workers were there for the game and I visited with them all a bit. One of them calls this Coastie "eye candy" and has something of a crush on him.

A bit later and one of them came by to pick up the others for a trip to the tavern. Once again, they invited me, and once again, I declined. I have never been one to frequent bars since my early days pre-momhood when dancing was a passion that has pretty well passed. Primarily, the reason was purely professional at this point--not wanting to be seen in a tavern, nor wanting to see "my clients" there!
A short walk again through the old town and some of the original buildings finished up the pleasant evening. The Russian Orthodox Church, which looks like every Russian Orthodox Church I have ever seen...but since I have only seen 2 of them, that is possibly not sufficient evidence to assume they all look the same.

The old hotel.

The old community center. While I liked the way it looked, my co-workers told me it is "haunted" and was dark and dismal and tiny. It certainly is a far cry from the current beautiful building.

Next week would be another full schedule, with preparing to wind down the services. I had an in-service to offer on training the community workers to do an emergency assessment and an ex-parte. Jane had suggested a checklist they could follow. I thought to add a decision tree flow chart, with the on call number on the chart. I was looking forward to the training. Jane was to send me a list of all Alaska laws pertaining to emergency and ex-parte.

My final two weeks were to focus on assessments, histories, and treatment plans, with prioritizing the follow-up for Oonalaska. I could work overtime every day and might not be able to finish chart audits and status reports.

Foxes and softball

2009-07-12T15:23:00.007-05:00

I walked over to the school to take some pictures of the baby foxes who live under a concrete slab. This little guy popped out of a tire on the way.

Some of the kids playing near the softball game were fascinated with the camera and all had to try a turn at taking a picture.

After watching the game a bit and visiting with co-workers, I headed on back to the quarters and reflected on all I had accomplished today. I was preparing for an in-service training on ex parte and doing emergency assessments to train the community aides. Jane and I had consulted about doing a checklist they can follow, and also a decision tree flow chart and on call numbers.

Winding down to the final two weeks was mainly about establishing follow up and priorities and assessments and completing all the required documentation. Chart audits and cross referencing the files to make a master list by client name and case number was a priority, since when I got there, one had to look at every file in order to find the case you were looking for as there is no master list. That is not an effective approach!

The parts dump: In more ways than one

2009-07-05T10:38:00.007-05:00

The sun came out at 6 p.m., the wind stopped blowing, and it was a beautiful evening, so I hiked over to see seals--once again. I went up to the community center earlier in the day during the cruise tour. I purchased post cards, soap, fry bread, mossberry jelly, and mossberry syrup. Aquilina showed me the steps for drying seal esophagus for making wallets and necklaces. After a stop at the store for fresh vegetables and fruits, I took off for more exploring.
I discovered the "fish dump" which is where the parts of the catch that are not used are dumped on the dock. Foxes and birds eat the parts, so I suppose it is ecology operating.

Next to the dock someone had dumped seal pelts. The "bone dump" is on the other side of the island, but I guess someone did not want to go that far.
I was consulting with my colleague Jane earlier about a client. She said she had seen so many people take little baby steps and then lost their way again. I likened it to stepping off the path. I used it with the young woman yesterday who was upset that she "forgot everything she had been learning" and went "Roar!" I said it was like walking on a path, seeing something and getting distracted. She said "Oh, yeah! Look at the bird!" and pantomimed running off after it. I added looking around and saying, "Oops, where was I going?", where is the path? looking for it, and getting our way back over to it. She grasped that immediately and I reminded her of the need to be kind to herself and nurture herself along the way, not being unduly harsh when she messes up. I affirmed that we all mess up, and the important thing is to be able to forgive ourselves and get back on the path to where we were going.

My path is not "going to the University of Mississippi and tenure." My path is going toward making a difference, toward creating a community of social justice and nurturing people and communities to achieve their best functioning--to enhance and support. If UM was the vehicle for that, great, but if not, there are plenty of other vehicles on the lot from which to choose. It's the same dilemma I faced with the decision to leave little Cisco Junior College and go to HSU. "Who will be here for them if I leave?" And realizing that wherever I go and whatever I do, I matter and make a difference because I choose to. At UM, there are things I have done that have mattered and made a difference--Riverside, Katrina, some of my students. They can take tenure away and in 2 years, my job, but they cannot negate and take away what I have accomplished, and what I have learned. On one hand, that will be the ultimate failure of my career and my life work, and on the other, it has been the pinnacle of my success. They will never know the 'gift' they have given me.

Cruise ship coming in!

2009-06-21T12:44:00.009-05:00

I went for a walk over to see the baby foxes, and then cut across the tundra on a trail to the seal rookery. It was a clear day for a change, so the views were incredible.
Fishing boat coming in at the end of a day.
This view is usually shrouded in fog, but was clear today.

I hiked across the tundra on a small trail, and could view the new village. The cemetery is to the right.

I cut across toward the center of the original village and then walked through. I met an elder who suggested I go to the community center and see what they were doing, getting ready for a cruise ship tour tomorrow. The ship is from Eastern Europe, coming across the Bering to the coast of Alaska and the islands.

I noted today during a screening that the child had more insight than her parents. That was interesting.

Seal Pups!

2009-06-12T16:27:00.009-05:00

Otter Island in the background of the rookery. The scaffolding is used to count seals each year, and for those doing research. One must have a research permit or be an official seal counter in order to access these areas.
Whilst on the way to the rookery blind facing the village, but down the beach from our quarters, I spied an old tree that had been uprooted. Flowers were blooming from a crack near the base.

This was the first view of the baby seal pups! They look a lot like little canine puppies only with flippers instead of legs. They make a sound kind of like a baby calf or goat or puppy. It is a cross between a whimper cry, and a baaahhh sound.

It was hard to believe there were this many babies crawling about when just a couple of days ago, they were none. Seal pups--like other animals it seems--quickly adapt to required movement to manage the environment. They scampered over rocks as if doing it forever.

A Walk on the Beach

2009-06-02T21:38:00.012-05:00

It was Friday night and the cargo plane came in, so the store had fresh fruit and vegetables. I bought broccoli and honeydew melon ($7.85 for a honeydew melon) and the makings for fettucine Alfredo from scratch.

Alexandr and I went for a walk down by the beach and ended up hiking for two hours, climbing up and down sand dunes, across the tundra, and seeing a variety of birds, the seals, and finally--the foxes! Alexandr was in the US on vacation when the Soviet Union collapsed and he said it was a dilemma to decide whether he should return or stay. He won a green card lottery and as a surgeon and doctor in the USSR, his skills were valuable in remote Alaskan areas.

Puffin

Red-billed cormorant

Mama fox came out of the rocks when we stopped to see the kits. She barked and tried to lead us to follow her instead of her kits. Finally, she decided we were not venturing close to them, nor were a threat and just watched quietly from the rocks.

The ever-present sea birds, waiting for fish.

Russian soup and a foggy walk

2009-05-30T15:06:00.005-05:00

After a very busy day with more crisis walk-ins, my regularly scheduled people, and a new person coming back into services, I enjoyed my first "communal meal" with my co-workers in the clinic quarters. Alexandr made Russian soup and I brought some rolls. After Alexandr and I cooked, Cheryl cleaned up the dishes while we all enjoyed getting to know each other. I was glad I made the decision to move to the clinic. Not only was it just a walk down the hall to my office--especially nice in the rain and fog of the day--it was wonderful to have Internet access again, wireless for my iBook, a telephone to be able to talk to home, conversation if I wanted it, and a room with a door to close if I did not.

Alexandr and I went for a walk after dinner. At first, though foggy, it was still quite nice. I was excited to see new and different sites than those surrounding my house of the previous week and the nearby dunes. This area is where people dump the fish scraps after cleaning the catch, so there are always lots of birds in the area, and later, I would discover foxes.

Only a short way further down the road and the fog began to roll in heavily. I was thrilled to see my first seal fairly close up, though he was hard to make out in the fog.
It began to rain and the fog was coming in even more, so we turned to go back to the clinic. As we turned across the dunes to head back, I was awestruck by this group of sleeping seals. Beyond the water was the village, but it was so foggy you could not make out even a glimpse of it. I snapped a quick picture so as not to disturb them--which is illegal--and we hurried back to the clinic.

One of my clients that day had told me a good bit more about the Russian Orthodox Church, and I also found out Alexandr (formerly from the Soviet Union) is Russian Orthodox. All the men sit on the right side of the church and the women on the left. They do not use instruments other than their voices, and when they go up to kiss the icons, the men go first--by age--and then the women and children. The icons are always placed on the East wall and up high, near the ceiling. Communion is closed, and they stand for the entire service unless they are an elder and cannot. It reminded me of how we stood for much of the service in Aunty Goliath's church in South Africa.

Moving Day

2009-05-28T16:54:00.007-05:00

The fog rolled in so heavily on Sunday that I could not see anything, so there was little point in venturing out. I spent the day cleaning the apartment in preparation for the move to the clinic itinerant quarters, and doing research. I checked out my new room and this was the view--quite a bit different from my beautiful view of the bay from the "Big House" where I had been.
The village is barely visible beyond the lamp pole and this abandoned church. There was at one time a congregation here--Pentecostal, I was told--and they used the green building. It appears to have been empty for a long time, and the roof is caving in.

It cleared a little by the end of the day and I was able to walk to the store after a very productive day of seeing clients, scheduling folks from the waiting list, and catching up on documentation. The never ending rain continued throughout the evening, though it was very pleasant to enjoy the view out toward the bay for my last time.

It's as easy as falling off a cliff

2009-05-27T21:43:00.005-05:00

I was hard at work on research writing one afternoon when the sun suddenly came bursting through the clouds. I dropped what I was doing and grabbed the camera and the van. It had been a week of no sunshine, or even much light, and I wanted to take advantage of it. I drove through the village and checked out the opposite side of the island. Straight across the water in the approximate middle of the shore line is a dark space. That is one of the rookeries that I would visit later, after obtaining my blind viewing permit.
Driving on to the other side of the island, the northwest point, I stopped at the cliff-side roost of the puffins and my "ha ha" birds. The village is visible across the water, in about the center of the photo. The two little spots on top of the hill are the water towers for the village. The clouds were coming back out and I was rushing to get to the edge of the cliff when--yep! Tripped on a big outcropping of rock and went flying down the trail. I could not catch myself and landed face first on a big rock, smashing my camera into my chest as I had it under my sweatshirt to protect it from the rain that was beginning. After righting myself only feet from the edge of the cliff and taking a deep breath, I checked for injuries. Thank goodness only a scraped hand, knee, and elbow. I hurried on over to the edge, but there were no puffins that day, and it was now way too foggy for a clear shot.
On my way back to my quarters, I stopped at some seals lounging roadside. I think the rough translation of an old Texas saying is "let sleeping seals lie." It is illegal to disturb the seals, to get out of the vehicle near them unless you have permission, and the only place for legal viewing is in the blinds. Ever respectful of the law, and certainly in this community, I took this photo from the van with the window rolled down. Shortly after, the rain started to pour so I headed back to my quarters for some hot soup and a little more work before time for bed.

It was a holiday weekend, the St. Peter and Paul holiday, and it was predicted to be a quiet weekend. So far, it had been.

Feel the Fear and Do it Anyway

2009-05-25T15:52:00.008-05:00

Once I commented to a friend that I was waking up in the middle of the night and unable to return to sleep. She said, "The Lord is waking you up because that is the only time you are quiet enough to listen to Him." So, when I awoke at 2 a.m. this morning and could not return to sleep, I decided I might need to be listening more. So, this entry is really more about things I have learned in this community. The past few months back in Mississippi have been very difficult and a friend reminded me "Don't let them define your reality for you." With some of the things that have happened, it has caused me to question my "reality" and my identity. Being out here in St. Paul is a literal reality check about who I am and how I relate to the world.

In some ways, the last few months has been a lot about looking over the edge of a cliff, seeing a sheer drop to roiling waters and rocks, and wondering if I really want to leave the safety of the cliff--no matter how precarious it is--and soar out over that unknown danger.

As I have pondered the practice of social work and the brief experience of a week, I see the importance of several things: the relationship is the foremost. I "know" that, but to be here is to "experience" that. I have truly listened with the desire to hear and to understand. The key is to listen for understanding and to accurately understand the person in the situation. While I can know that, or cognitively know that, it is knowing it at the experiential level that has really helped me to do what I am doing here. Rather like flying out over those rocks and water, it is being immersed in a new and different culture that forces me to "adapt" and cope with my environment.
I actually get it at an experiential level about the Person-in-Environment. My coping skills have been put to the test this week like no time in a long time. I have in fact been forced to feel my feelings and draw upon my self-awareness and understanding at a deeper level. My "tiger" of adapting to change has been present--ever vigilant, but with my having to work to keep him "lying at my feet" waiting for me to say if I want him to rise up and protect me. That comes from years ago and the choice to change the way I faced change--acknowledging that I did not make changes well and wanted to...so here I am, making a change and feeling the duality of emotions--I both want to and want to stay the same. Perhaps it truly is is as Thomas Szasz said, that life is just about "problems in living."

What is it in our cultures that makes us so loathe to acknowledge that we all face those problems in living? Here, as I see the effects of both learned behavior and alcohol's effects, I get a clearer sense of that. There is every possibility that the genetic component of alcohol dependence is magnified here in a small, rural, isolated population. It would be hard for anyone to come in to this close-knit community--we would all be "outsiders." There is a fierce clinging to the known "cliff" and that which binds us to that--otherwise, our identity is threatened. It reminded me of the step in AA where one is supposed to get to the point of taking the "fearless inventory." We cannot do that without a level of support and affirmation to confirm we really are still okay. I was discussing that with someone today and the person said, "I know that; I just wish I did not have to." As we talked about our needs for safety and affirmation at a young age, it was clear how important that is. We talked about when we miss that, the importance of going back and trying to recreate that for ourselves. Again, the person said, "I just wish I didn't have to." It's like the longing for our wholeness and completeness that we were meant to have, and it comes with a cost--the grief of acknowledging that it did not happen and it was not the reality for us.

The story is important to hear in order to have understanding. Perhaps what often happens is we fail to just take the time to hear the story--we want to rush in and "fix" things--ask the questions, when we need to just allow people to mull it over--the deep thinking that the community woman referred to today. We are all about creating our identity in our stories, whatever they are. I look at this community of Native Aleuts, and I can see all those creations. The community both is its past and it is not--the intergenerational relationships affect the identity of the community as it both seeks to maintain its past while it is forced to adapt to the future and the demands of the environment. So, what we face as individuals, we face as the collective identity of the group.

Another person from the community helped me to understand that when she talked about the history of this community. The Aleuts of St. Paul are different in that they were brought by the Russian fur traders from all along the Aleutian chain to St. Paul as slaves. She said they had only had independence from the Federal government for 25 years: "What does a 25 year old want? We are still in the process of creating our identity." We are all either reaching out to seek connection and establish our belongingness ("who am I and with whom do I belong?") or we are withdrawing and rejecting that. What is under that rejection--fear? How do we nurture each other, support and accept and create the kind of safety where we can reach for the fear?

That is the hard part: the letting go and holding on--the letting go without fear of falling. Why do we all have this understanding at various times and in various ways and have such a difficult time with connecting to each other? I suppose the answer is because some of us had such awful experiences, such disappointments [as children, when we are so vulnerable] that we simply cannot without great difficulty. The only two things we all need is to feel loved and to feel competent. It is that understanding that makes me want to be present and have the opportunity to contribute. I have something to offer, just as I have something to gain. It is Exchange Theory at its divine level.

Look at this bird, and the nest that is built on this precarious edge of a rock. Think how that reflects our lives in general, and the lives of this community in particular. On the one hand, birds have been raising their young on these precarious cliffs forever--and it works, because there are still this species of bird present. No doubt, some of them fall--just like we do. But you don't see these birds packing up and moving to the desert because there are no cliffs and no rocks and no water. Somehow, they have had the resilience to endure. That is what we need to understand about ourselves as well.

Note: I wrote all the entry except for the final paragraph while I was on St. Paul. The last paragraph came from my thinking as I have been revisiting this trip. I was struck by how absolutely true this is in my life right at this moment. I am experiencing this same reality these past few days. I concluded the journal that morning with the following: "It is now 3:30 and I have written non-stop. My eyes are burning and I feel the need to close them and return to sleep--feeling safe and rested and peaceful, having a sense of purpose and comfort in being at cause instead of at effect. I am safe; it's only change."

Acclimating to the community

2009-05-24T11:16:00.012-05:00

The first full week at work was extremely busy. I called people on waiting lists who needed to be scheduled, saw many walk-ins, and attended a community potluck. At the potluck, I had my first taste of reindeer, slaughtered only that morning after a hunt.

The clinic is state of the art, like a mini-hospital. It is a new building, and quite beautiful and well-equipped. The optometry doctors were here this week, and the frame selection was set up in the behavioral health lobby outside my door. It gave me opportunities to talk to community residents as well as visit with the staff in down times and get a better understanding of itinerant health care. There is a dental wing, radiology, and emergency room, and lab, as well as exam rooms. On the behavioral health wing, we have nice offices, a play therapy room and conference room equipped with teleconferencing equipment. They do many things via teleconference due to the remote location and the cost of getting people to and from the island.

I walked 30 minutes to get to the center from my quarters. It was very foggy and I could not see the road from my house. Work starts at 8 and what was hilarious was after walking, I got there and no one was at work and I had to wait 15 minutes to get in as I did not have a key to the building. Island time is apparently slightly behind standard time. :) I had brought my hair care with me, knowing the walk in the fog wearing my beret and scarf would leave me with wet hair, and I was right.

After another full day of consultations, screenings, documentation, and individual sessions, I was glad to see Friday at 5 come. As I walked to the store for supper fixings, I saw a group of girls sitting in the parking lot and one said "Oh, a customer." I walked over to see what they were doing and they said fund raising for a trip to DC. They were selling lemonade for $2 a cup, so I told them I would pick up one on my way back from the store. I found a canvas bag in my office and had a way to carry groceries on my shoulder rather than in my arms, so it left my hands free. The girls were waiting for the softball game to start so they could sell to the spectators. Softball games are the big pass-time during the summer months and everyone gathers at the field to watch, play, and visit.

Finally, a semi-clear day and a opportunity to do some exploring. Saturday arrived, so I hiked past my quarters--the house with the red roof--over the dunes and toward the Bering Sea and Telegraph Hill. (Actually, since we are in the middle of the Bering Sea, anywhere you hike is toward the Bering.)

Wind generators out toward the airport.

A seal in the sea.

Lukiani Rookery was near my quarters. Since I did not yet have a permit, I could not get very close. There are viewing blinds if you have a permit--but that would come later for me.
Our guide on the first day had told me this was wild celery. She said it was quite similar to cultivated celery and people just break off the stalk and eat it raw. I would later come to note that was the reason I would see so many broken pieces of it along the road and hiking trails.

The Deadliest Catch also stores crab pots on St. Paul and is here on occasion.

It was the first fairly clear day since my arrival. In this view from Telegraph Hill you can see the Russian Orthodox Church, the city government complex, the hotel (yellow building at the lower left), water storage tanks that are fairly new, as well as the housing for the original village. (I am in the later housing additions, further from the center of the village.) If you look to the right upper corner, toward the edge of the frame, you will see a small covered gazebo. Tara told us the story of the Corps of Engineers building things on the island and decided they needed a covered gazebo to be able to get out of the rain. However, they did not know the rain blows sideways, so it was of no value in being able to escape the rain. LOL I found it was true, it literally rained sideways (due to the wind, I suppose) and an umbrella was of no benefit. I wore my beret and scarf the whole time, and usually had rain on my face. If it was not too dark, I could wear my sunglasses to keep the rain out of my eyes.

First Full Day on the Island--and it was Full!

2009-05-22T20:59:00.000-05:00

The "proof" I was really here.

Trident fish processing plant, which houses the Trident Galley. I had lunch the first day there with two co-workers who invited me over. It was quite good, though at $14 per meal, I only ate there twice. It was the only "restaurant" in town. That is Otter Island in the background.
This was my "Wal-Mart"--it was the grocery store, hardware store, clothing store, drug store. There was a little of everything. I spent another $31 for milk, potatoes, rolls, and crackers so I could make potato soup for dinner. It was cold and wet and I was pretty tired by the end of the first day and ready to get home and to bed.

The old hotel.

The village through the fog.

On the way to St. Paul and then, voila, I was there

2009-05-20T21:56:00.000-05:00

Volcanic rock formations on St. Paul Island

The Ha Ha Birds

Seal Rookery

Forget-me-nots on Telegraph Hill

Rock on Telegraph Hill

In the air from Memphis to St. Paul, Minnesota, my seat mate was Pentecostal and going home form Arkansas. She asked if she could read me her "words from the Lord" for today. It was actually interesting how they spoke to me--about joy, and reminding me of wanting joy in my work--and about not fearing on this journey. The part about the Lord telling her to buy a pack of gum was a bit harder for me; somehow, I just can't see the Lord all that concerned about whether or not we chew gum on the airplane, what with being busy running the Universe and all (Sandburg).

Seat mate from St. Paul to Anchorage was a cowboy from South Dakota. He looked like he could have come from West Texas--only he drank red wine. I have never known a cowboy who drank wine, let alone red wine.

I loved the idea of seeing what I could make of the experience on my own--no people I knew, no comrades on the journey. I met the person from the agency once in Anchorage, to complete paperwork. She said the gas is 7-800 per month, electricity another 400, and it is economically very difficult. However, the clinic is state of the art and they are all excited (she said) to see me come. I was thinking this would be an awesome adventure.

After landing at St. Paul and the meeting with the police chief and the agency folks, I had a tour of the community and a trip to the store. That is THE store--there is only one. It was sticker shock. I spent $60 for 2 cans of soup, butter, eggs, bread, cheese, laundry and dish washing soap. I do not know how folks manage. A half gallon of milk was $10.45, a loaf of bread $7.85, and gasoline $6.00 a gallon.

I saw the seal rookeries, the bird roosts, the Bering Sea surrounding us. The Northern fur seals were fascinating. All the males were waiting on the beaches for their harems to return to give birth. The puffins and some other birds that make a sound like they are laughing (ha ha ha ha ha) were everywhere on the cliffs, and it made you laugh out loud just to hear them. We also had a fascinating history of the Aleuts on the island and the story of the Russians who enslaved Aleuts from along the Aleutian chain and brought them here and the effect that has had on the culture today.

There are about 450 population here. There is the store, a Russian Orthodox church, a school, the fish processing plant, the tribal government, the Aleut Corporation, the health center, and the city, police, and post office. There is a liquor store and and a tavern. There are no trees as this is a volcanic-base island and there are no trees. There are some hills, a volcano crater, lakes, and many beautiful flowers and tundra grasses.

I was warmly received and welcomed. My accommodations were in a new duplex with a beautiful view from the hill. My main purpose initially was to learn as much about the culture as possible, listening to what the needs are and offering suggestions if asked. I met a local person today who was actually interned during WWII. He told me about the St Peter and Paul celebration this weekend at the church and said I was welcome.

I went to sleep that first night happy that I had decided to do this trip and believing I was meant to be there and was affirmed and validated for that decision.

What was I thinking?

2009-05-19T15:44:00.001-05:00

In July of 2008, I got an invitation to do clinical work in the health care center at St. Paul, Alaska. St. Paul is one of the Pribilof Islands in the Bering Sea, about 750 air miles from Anchorage, Alaska. I spent 5 weeks on the island, conducting assessments and providing treatment interventions in this remote Aleut community. This is a reflective visit of the experiences I shared in this community. I hope you will join me from time to time to see what this community has to offer.
The average summer temperature is in the upper 40s-lower 50s, with frequent fog, wind, and rain. The first evening as I looked out the window of my home for the next few weeks, I could hardly see across the road. This would become a familiar site to me, and many times, the fog would be much thicker--precluding any visibility. After flying for 2 days from Mississippi and going directly to a meeting upon landing, I finally laid my head on the pillow at midnight.