A LITTLE BIT OF SCOTCH GOES A LONG WAY

BARROW TO NUIQSUT TO DEADHORSE

A taxi dropped my duffle bag, tote and me off at the Wellness Center early last Monday morning.  Bertrand and I would be catching the 10:45 am Era flight to Kaktovik where he would be introducing me to the clinic staff, training me in school screening and immunization inventory and where we would both be giving immunizations, helping to catch the village up in being covered from the diseases the vaccines prevent. 

The sturdy leather case that I’ll carry many of the supplies I need on village trips resembles the flight bag my father used while I was growing up and the one my son-in-law, Josh, uses now.  I believe theirs have held/hold flight plans and logs, and perhaps manuals and things having to do with navigating their aircraft.  Mine is filled with patient intake and encounter forms, vaccine information sheets, Bright Futures handouts for parents, immunization schedules and information, a BMI wheel, pens, high lighters, paper clips, follow up post cards, alcohol swabs, gauze squares and of course,  Mickey Mouse and Dora band aids, plastic cars, bracelets for young children and mind puzzlers for older children.

Thanks to Nellie, who had warmed up the car for the required 30 minutes before driving us to the airport, we and our assorted bags and tubs arrived at the Era terminal in plenty of time.  Waiting there, wearing layers of down, fleece and Gortex as well as wool socks and sturdy, warm boots makes finally leaving the terminal to board the plane refreshing, even at sub-subzero temperatures.  It’s tempting to unwrap and cool off in the terminal, but with a single call from the pilot, “we’re ready to go!” not much time can be taken to wrap oneself up again.

I was taking in the brilliant beauty of the February morning as I climbed the stairs of the Beechcraft 1900.  The man in front of me who appeared to be close to my age and Inupiat turned around and asked with a smile where I was going.  The plane would be stopping first in Nuiqsut and then in Dead Horse before finally arriving in Kaktovik on Barter Island.  I said that I was going to Kaktovik.  “I’ll escort you there!  That’s where I live.”  Sam Gordon, grandson of Scottish whaler, Tom Gordon, who married an Inupiat woman in the late 1940’s, proved to be a friendly and kind chaperone.  Sam and I exchanged stories on the way to Nuiqsut and then on to Dead Horse.  His mother was half Inupiat and half Scotch.  She had married an Inupiat man, but gave her children her maiden name, Gordon.  Sam is ¾ Inupiat and ¼ Scotch and seemed pleased with his heritage on both sides.  He grew up moving with his parents between Alaska and Canada and has dual citizenship in both the US and Canada.  He works as a truck driver, currently building an ice road that connects Barter Island to the mainland of Alaska during the winter months.  He has a strong interest in working to restore some of the old buildings in Kaktovik, making them national historical sites.  His niece is the newly elected mayor of Kaktovik and I later learned that the clinic where I would be working for the week was named after his grandfather, Tom Gordon. 

I shared with Sam that my father had flown for Wien to the villages on the North Slope as well as to other parts of Alaska.  When he learned what his name was, he said, “I knew Don Peterson!  He was one of the pilots that flew to Barter Island in DC3’s and later F27’s.  He and the others always brought treats for us kids.  We were always hanging around the airport waiting for them to come!” Sam shared that someone at one of the terminals in Dead Horse had found quite a bit of Wien memorabilia and had created several display cases.   We disembarked in Dead Horse and had more than an hour before the flight would leave for Kaktovik, so Sam and I went to find the old Wien terminal.  It was wonderful seeing the displays and taking photos with Dad and many memories of our family’s early years in mind. 

Other display cases held photos of a Grizzly bear holding up a dump truck, a herd of caribou and a white Arctic fox poised in the air before a hopeful lunchtime descent into a lemming borough.  A large poster gave polar bear alert tips.

We passed several other terminals, many large semi trailers and other buildings on our way back to the Era terminal.  The temperature was cold enough to require a stop at the Prudhoe Bay Hotel where we warmed ourselves with hot cups of tea.  Temporary oil field and related workers can find a room and purchase meals at the hotel.  While there, Lynn, the woman who put the Wien displays together happened to walk by so Sam introduced us and explained my interest in them related to my father.  She enjoyed hearing about his flying on the North Slope and said that she wanted to preserve that part of Prudhoe Bay’s history and was happy to hear that I’d taken pictures of the displays for Dad.

As the flight took off for Kaktovik I thought about how fortunate I’d been to have met Sam, giving me something meaningful to share with Dad and our family many years after seeing him in his uniform, carrying his flight bag and flying off in a DC3 or F27, bound for Prudhoe Bay, Barter Island and the villages on the North Slope of Alaska.