I have been driving this little four-wheeler around the community of Twin Hills, Alaska, for almost four months now, and this is the first time I have ever hit thirty miles per hour. What makes this occasion especially noteworthy is that I have two passengers. These passengers come in the form of two of my august colleagues, each of whom is sitting on one of my rear fenders, hanging on for dear life. As I zip along at this unheard-of rate of speed, I keep glancing over my shoulder to see if my passengers are still with me. So far, so good.
Why, you may ask, am I running around the back roads of Twin Hills like a person one-third of my age? And why are these other two adults-who-probably-should-know-better encouraging me in this behavior? Well, pull up a toadstool, and let me tell you about it.
The mandatory backstory: on the day prior to this adventure, I was able to successfully network with the community to bring three fifteen-pound turkeys over from Togiak (just across the bay), in time to start thawing out for our upcoming school-community Thanksgiving feast.
So far so good. But what, you may ask, about the stuffing, and the potatoes, and the fresh vegetables, and the corn on the cob, and the jello, and the canned pumpkin for the pies? What, indeed. Since this phase of the project required some actual shopping, i.e., browsing of the shelves of the Togiak grocery store, it became evident that some of us school-staff types needed to go over there in person.
Togiak is close to Twin Hills—you can see it across the bay—but getting over there is not a task to be undertaken by amateurs. At the time of this writing, the river was iced over, so the only way to get over in a skiff was to drive the mile-or-so to the beach and put the skiff in there. We learned that a trusted friend was going over and would give us a ride. When this friend called and said he was on his way to the beach, we knew that time was of the essence, because around here, if you keep folks waiting they sometimes don’t, if you catch my drift.
Turns out we weren’t late. There were two boats getting ready to go, with many of the other frequent flyers milling about on the beach, trying to stay warm, while the owner/operators of the skiffs considered the conditions for traveling. Eventually, we got going, and while we pushed through a substantial amount of ice, we made our way over without much excitement. We loaded up on all the Thanksgiving groceries our tiny community could possibly want, and on the way back two guys with rifles sat in the bow and looked for seals. The closest they got was a shadowy chunk of ice that looked kind of like a seal until you got closer. We speculated that the seals, clever animals that they are, might have placed that chunk of ice as a decoy.
Riding back from the beach to town, I went considerably slower than thirty, because not only did I have my two passengers (sitting on the back fenders as before), I also had a huge box of groceries (strapped to the front). About halfway down the road, one of the other four-wheelers passed me on the right, and I said a bad word.
The only thing that didn’t make it back in one piece was the receipt, but the lady in accounting was really nice about it.
Four-wheelers in villages are amazingly versatile. On one of our first days in Teller, AK in summer 1987 (early July) we were flown by helicopter across the entrance to Grantley Harbor and deposited on the spit east of Brevig Mission. It was a diversion for the helicopter, which had other work that day. My partner and I intended to spend our day visiting fishcamps along the spit, to interview elders about a selection of nearby historic sites and cemeteries, part of the ANCSA 14(h)(1) process. It was great work. We would walk between camps, then stop in and introduce ourselves, explain what we were up to. People in the villages were vaguely aware that the ANCSA lands selection process was going on, so our story generally connected with what they already knew. Most often we we ended up sitting with a small group of family in a wall tent sipping tea and perhaps nibbling on dried fish and Pilot Bread, while talking through the elders’ memories of who was related to whom, who lived where when, and who was buried where. It was an engaging/fascinating day. We visited perhaps three camps by early afternoon. Our goal was to be in Brevig Mission for one final interview by midafternoon and then be picked up by the helicopter at the end of the day.
After our third camp visit my partner and I started walking west towards town. A little while later we heard an engine noise behind us, approaching from the west end of the spit. It turned out to be a man on a three-wheeler heading for Brevig. He stopped and offered us a ride, and like your story, he put one of us on each of the rear fenders over the back wheels. Then he zoomed off down the beach. As we rode, my partner and I started to notice a really strong (rank, putrid, rotten) smell. We shouted in each others’ ears, over the engine noise, trying to figure out what the awful smell might be, imagining perhaps that we were somehow the source. We considered all kinds of possibilities. Once in Brevig we were able to tactfully ask the young driver about the smell. He pointed to a plastic garbage bag strapped to the rack in front of the handlebars and explained that he had spent the day out on the spit retrieving walrus flippers that had been buried in hand-dug pits in the sand dunes the previous fall. They had aged appropriately over the winter. The ground had recently thawed and the flippers, now kind of a gelatenous consistency, were ready for consumption, a much anticipated spring delicacy. He was taking them home to his folks. The memory of the ride and the smell has stuck with me over the years.
Maybe you should write a book, a collection of four-wheeler stories. There are a lot of good ones out there. Thanks for sharing yours!
Thanks, Terry! I love reading the stories that you offer in response to my stories. At the thanksgiving dinner I nibbled on walrus fat and walrus meat.
Love your story! I am so glad you had Thanksgiving with all the fixings!
Thank you. It was epic!