I went to go visit Jenny in the bush oasis of Atqasuk for a little R&R with some fishing and hunting on the side and ended up completing what is essentially an arctic circuit tour visiting several Eskimo/Inupiaq towns and villages including Prudhoe Bay/Deadhorse, Barrow, Atqasuk, Point Lay, and Wainwright. After arriving in Atqasuk via flights through Deadhorse and Barrow, I met up with the plane greater (Mel) who gave me a lift to Jen's Apartment where I unpacked the groceries I brought in and took a nap. A few hours later Jen came home and we went out for a walk on the tundra. This was of course not just the two of us. About ten children followed us for nearly an hour and half, talking and asking questions. "Is Jen your girlfriend"? "Who is your father"? "Do you have a gun"? "Whats your favorite Honda"? It went on and on until eventually I was completely frustrated and just wanted to go back to the apartment. We planned on getting up early the next morning and go up the bank of the Meade River to do some fishing all the while hoping that if we left early enough in the morning, the village children will still be sleeping and not follow us. It worked perfectly, the village was quiet and we bucked into a stiff wind for several miles until we got up to where a small creek fed into the Meade River. The Grayling weren't biting much (we only got a couple hits) and it was likely in the mid-thirties with good twenty mph wind so we 
were cold and decided to keep moving. Walking further away from the river and out into open tundra I can easily see how one can get lost. There are no vantage points, there is no sun direction, everything looks the same. We hadn't walked but a mile from the creek until we spotted three caribou (tuttu in inupiaq) off in the distance. We closed some ground and Jen leashed up her dog and I went ahead with the .300 Short Magnum. I had come prepared incase we saw some caribou but this was by no means a hunting trip, I had even left my camo back in Fairbanks. These caribou just so happened to wonder within a couple miles of town and I wasn't going to pass up some free easy meat. We wanted meat for the freezer and I didn't really want to deal with a hide and rack from a bull in the middle of the tundra anyway. I sat for a good five minutes watching and waiting for a shot. I wanted to make sure I shot the cow that wasn't weaning a calf. Eventually a shot was available at about a 100 yards at the cow (Kulavak in Inupiaq) and I was confident that the calf belonged to the other cow which worked out well since the mother was the smaller cow. She promptly fell cushioned by the sponge like tundra. It took us an hour to gut, skin and put the meat into my pack. Meanwhile, her dog enjoyed running across the tundra trying to catch the other caribou which were just casually staying away from him. We carried the meat back to town where I do believe some of the kids were surprised two white people walked out on the tundra and took a caribou (white people and no ATV's = no caribou in the bush). we spent a couple hours cleaning the meat up and packing it into the freezer before we decided to try our hands at fishing again. This just was not they day for Grayling. We got nothing. The next day we left early again and went for a long walk out on the tundra weaving our way along the frost heaves and ATV trails that led to lush hunting grounds. This was our day, spent walking outside and talking a nap afterwards. We repeated this again the next day (by now Jen was complaining about hiking) covering even more ground with about 14 miles across the tundra. My vacation time dwindled and I hopped aboard a Cessna Grand Caravan and left just to land in another village an hour later (Point Lay) I seriously do not 
understand living in Point Lay. There is literally nothing here but a small whaling and seal industry and a few caribou here and there. The picture you see is the bustling town of Point. Lay / Camp Culley Area. Not much to miss. We left shortly after landing and went to Wainwright where I didn't even leave the runway. I got off the plane took a piss on the runway and got back on. Eventually we took off again we flew about 1000' along the coast of the arctic ocean until we reached Barrow and within an hour and a half I was back in Fairbanks. I had apparently missed a shooting of a Polar Bear in the village of Atqasuk by about a week. The bear had come inland towards the village and they were convinced it was not going to leave (the dumpsters have no lids and have plenty of entrails and hides from caribou) so one of the villagers had shot it twelve times with a 25.06 rifle which is sad to me. Not that they shot a bear but, rather they choose a rifle that was inadequate for the job of taking a large animal. A 25.06 is perfect for little caribou 
but not a 1500lb bear. The Arctic bush communities amaze me but at the same time, I can do nothing but shutter. I truly enjoyed the trip but I know for certain, that I would not want to experience a long dark, cold winter in the arctic bush. A place where -50 to -60 degree weather sets in and the sun does not rise for 60-70 days. A place where rabid foxes rule. Hell, even the Caribou know that you have to leave during the harsh winters. Uhm, so yeah, best of luck to all of those who stick out a winter in the arctic bush. I surely tip my hat to you and your resilience to cope survive and continue to live where nature has surely meantfor seasonal
occupation. I had to add this last picture in here for two reasons. First, its absolutely halarious. Second, it encapsulates bush mentality. A picture of a plane in Point Hope. The story behind this plane is that many years ago it broke down and the pilot and crew had to leave it on the runway at Point Hope until they could return with a mechanic and the parts to fix it. When they did, the villagers had already dismantled the plane and somehow managed to move the frame into the town where it still sits today. This is bush mentality, you left it, now its mine. Ownership is not paperwork, it is possession.
