12 July: Day-34, Total-36; Miles-0, Total-1273
- Chuck
It was a wonderful night at the Moose Camp B&B. I had the basement
to myself and the hot shower was great. Their bathroom had the first
mirror I have seen in weeks. The recent shower facilities we have used
have had none. It was a little scary; the guy looking back at me was
gaunt and scraggly. My forehead and nose were red and peeling, hair
and beard were out of control, my front side over-tanned while the back
was nearly white and ribs protruded like an under-fed horse; but I feel
great. I took advantage of the mirror to trim the beard a bit, especially
around my mouth where it had been straining the larger chunks from my
food.
Carlson Koyukuk had a hot pot of coffee ready when I went upstairs.
He set a couple of sunny-side-up eggs in front of me, and then plates
of waffles and sausage kept coming until I cried "unkle".
Wow, what a great place.
The campground pavilion made a good watch station. About 9am, the binos
picked up a dot that was miles away and on the far shore. Later, when
it started across the mile wide river, I suspected that it was Bill.
He was beating into the wind and a light chop. About 11am he arrived
at the far end of the village. Just in front of him were Laura &
Aaron returning after paddling their canoe a couple of hours. They told
Bill about this remote little village and we both agreed we would stay
for the night.
We pitched our tents at the community campground that was built to accommodate
"drifters". It has a wood platform for tents, picnic tables,
a covered pavilion, a privy and a covered fire-ring with cut & split
wood. All this is on a bluff overlooking the river and just above the
landing where our canoes are tied.
We toured the village and everyone we met was friendly and helpful.
The Community Store was much better stocked than most. While there,
I introduced Bill to Father Joe Hemmer who I met last night at Harold's
home. Father Joe rotates between Ruby and Kaltag, about 170 miles down
river. He spends about two weeks each, at each location.
Nora Kangas drove a four wheeler up to our camp. After talking to her
awhile she invited us to a Memorial Potlatch in the evening. She is
83 years old and later we learned they call her "Wild Grandma".
She pulled up her pant legs to show the scars of two knee replacements.
A few minutes after she drove away, I saw her driving up a very steep
hill to visit some friends.
The Memorial Potlatch is a local custom of the Athabascan Indians and
varies from community to community. A few years after the death of a
family member, when the family decides the hurt and mourning should
stop, they arrange a Potlatch. The entire village is invited and friends
and relatives of the deceased come from all over the state. It is a
grand community pitch-in dinner, give-away and dance that lasts till
morning.
While Bill did his laundry, I showered then visited the library. It
was one of the few times I have been able to check our website (Nice
job Beth, Thanks). Karen, the librarian, was helpful and cautioned me
that after we pass Galena we should watch our gear closely, there have
been many thefts in that area and "drifters" have not been
treated well.
Back at camp, George Yaska stopped and talked. He passes through Ruby
often on his way to and from other villages along the Yukon or other
connecting rivers. He is a native Arts & Crafts teacher. He spent
a lot of time telling me how snowshoes and dogsleds are constructed.
Also, he told me about the early, non-native, explorers in this area
and how the rivers here have been used as highways for centuries. Even
though most villages of a few hundred people now have some sort of air-service,
boats and the river are still their major means of transportation.
In the evening, we decided not to attend the Potlatch. We did not want
to intrude on a family's special time of remembering; even though Nora
and Laura told us not to be concerned with such notions. Later, as enchanting
music drifted through the village, I wished I had gone. It was a rare
opportunity to observe, and participate in a native celebration. Later,
we learned they had two bands; one to play music for the younger crowd
and the other played native music favored by the older folks. I could
still hear music when I awoke at 5am.