“There is no store out there,” said Human Resources. “You will have to bring all your groceries with you. Also, there is nothing in the new teacher apartment, so you will need some pots and pans and flatware. And bedding.”

“OK,” I said. I was on my way for a month of long-term subbing in Koyukuk, Alaska, (pronounced KY, not KOY), and I knew I had to shop in Fairbanks. The best advice I got all week was to get some rubber boots, and I’m so glad I listened, because the town is one great big extension of the converging banks of the Yukon and Koyukuk rivers. I also bought two boxes of groceries and basic utensils, which I brought with me to the plane.

After a twenty-four-hour delay due to weather, in which I could have bought even more groceries but didn’t, and in which one of my bags took a solo flight to Ruby, Alaska and back, we were headed out to Koyukuk, with a first stop in Galena. The assistant superintendent sat beside me, in the second day of her quest to go out to Nulato. We landed in Koyukuk, and then the pilot informed her, the only person remaining on the plane, that they were turning around. The weather in Nulato was still bad. I noticed how the airline folks are kind in their delivery of this kind of news, but they never apologize. And nobody, no matter how disappointed and frustrated, ever argues.

Anyway, I got to Koyukuk. The school truck was there at the airport, but it was being driven by a contractor who thought this meant he couldn’t give me a ride. Another gentleman volunteered to take me and my stuff to the house.

Turns out there is a store here. The story I heard is that the previous owner died, and a family member returned to town to work at the health clinic and open the store for about an hour or so a day. Then, we had open house night at the school, in which a district office gentleman brought pizza. There was also a cake that was supposed to go to Fort Yukon or somewhere but ended up with us instead. We ate it without the least visible twinge of conscience.

I also learned that I can eat lunch with the kids (and breakfast too for that matter). The cook, a retired teacher herself, has been most generous with me in terms of giving me leftovers as well. Not to mention that there has been a five-community softball tournament here on my second weekend in town, and everybody brings food and makes sure that visitors feel comfortable helping themselves. That includes the moose nose, which I sampled and found to be palatable.

As far as ordering groceries from Fairbanks, that’s still in flux. I called in an order on a Friday, called to check the following Thursday, and learned that my two boxes boarded a plane the next day. The plane turned around in Nulato, due to weather, and as I write this my groceries are (hopefully) in the airline’s Fairbanks refrigerator, waiting for the next plane. The airline agent here in town has brake problems with his truck, and would prefer that I pick up my groceries myself, but since the planes only fly Monday-Friday, I am teaching when the flights come in. The agent promised to keep an eye out for my boxes, and he has my phone number, which only works in wifi zones. . .

As I say, I have been well fed, but enough is enough. Come on home, little boxes of food. You must be tired, and I’m running out of toothpaste.