End of week one

Alaska: home of epic rainbows

As week one of training comes to an end, so too does the beautiful sunny weather we had all week. Gone are the crisp, blue skies and glimmering sunlight that bathed the snowcapped mountains in luminous warmth. For the next week it looks like it will be all cloudy and drizzly, though as I sit at the library to type this, the cloud ceiling is still high enough to see the distant peaks. So maybe it won't be so bad.

Evenings are my favorite :)

My bunkhouse in the rare sunlight

The rest of my week of training involved safety and interpretive sessions, intermixed with some cultural workshops. On Thursday during OL, we took a hike along the unsanctioned "social trails" out in the back of the park, which was very eye opening. These are trails through unmanaged areas of the park that people create by frequently cutting through for partying, hanging out, drinking, or drug use. There's not much the park does to mitigate the use of these trails, other than making sure the rangers have a strong presence there and that we're checking frequently to keep it clean of trash and reporting any incidents we find.

Interestingly enough, while we were there, we sighted a man prowling about off-trail with a bag. The chief ranger had us stay behind while she went to go check out the situation. At first he tried to pretend he was trying to identify a mushroom or something, but after a couple minutes of talking to him, she found out he was illegally harvesting Devil's Club (a native medicinal plant) for a Chinese place in town. He was let off with a verbal warning.

Just another day in the life.

This woman is amazing.

With that excitement aside, in the afternoon we attended a presentation by a local Ravenstail weaver named Teri.  I wasn't particularly looking forward to this session, but it turned out to be one of the coolest things I've ever learned about.

Ravenstail weaving is a pre-Russian contact style of Tlingit fiber arts, characterized by its precise geometric designs. In fact, Teri explained that the entire design is made up of mathematical patterns, specifically a binary code, which dictates the placement of the colors and shapes of the weave. There is something like only 15 left in the world, and we got to see 2 of them. She explained that the process is so complex -- from harvesting the hair, to spinning it, to weaving it without a loom, to the finished product -- that few people have the time or know-how to do it anymore.

Teri was an amazing story teller. In fact, her whole persona was in this beautiful storytelling style with a big warm smile on her face. She is a basket weaver as well, using similar traditional methods to recreate historic Tlingit baskets that have been excavated.

We all had to try on the robe

The one robe, pictured above, is woven completely from mountain goat hair. Still in the making, it has taken her 17 years to collect enough hair to spin for the robe! She also integrated a DNA pattern along the side that mimics the DNA of a mountain goat, and there is an even more subtle pattern in the white part of the weave that mimics the slime trail of a snail, because Teri is a member of the Snail clan. Clever way to sign your work! There were so many small details and meanings woven into the robes, it's almost too much to fathom. Listening to Teri talk about her work really brought the robes to life and gave me a completely different way of looking at this type of native artwork.

My favorite view from the Totem Trail (Mt. Edgecumbe)

Yesterday we began transitioning more into preparing for our upcoming visitor programs. I shadowed a tour of the totem trail and began writing my program outlines, of which there will be roughly half a dozen throughout the summer. I'll be giving totem trail tours, Russian Bishop's House tours, discovery talks, battle walks, and possibly a couple evening programs and informal talks as well.

Become a Junior Ranger today!

In the afternoon we were back in uniform again to help out with the Sitka Parade of Species. I'm beginning to find that Sitka loves parades. They seem to have one at least once a month all summer! Fortunately, at this one all I had to do with staff a booth at the end of the parade to help  kids become Junior Rangers. They were all dressed up as different species. It was pretty adorable. :-)

I haven't quite decided what I'll do this weekend. Hopefully get out to explore a new trail, but I think this time I'll try to go with someone else now that I've refreshed my bear safety knowledge. I spent a little bit of time exploring downtown again today. I wandered to some of the farther fishing docks, an area of town that reminds me a little more of Nome, and then went to a little cafe that someone recommended for a snack before the library opened. They have the BEST cookies ever, no joke.

Needless to say, I'm stoked for next week. We have more interpretive training coming up, plus a trip to an island, hopefully some whale and puffin sightings, and a place called Fortress of the Bear. What wonders to look forward to!

Training begins

I still can't believe how beautiful it is here. Even from where I'm sitting in the library to write this, a huge bank of windows overlooking the ocean provides a postcard view of the golden sunlit, forested mountains and islands capped by some low clouds. It's unreal. And I'm getting paid to live here!

It does come at a price though. And that price is that I spend 40 hours a week working my tail off. This week has kicked off with a full schedule of training to prepare the 7 of us interpretive seasonal rangers ("interps," informally) for a summer of cruise ship tourists and other visitors.

Training has included everything from the nitty-gritty administrative computer certifications to practicing with bear spray, to learning the park's history, to team building, to law enforcement, to biology lectures, and everything in between, with more to come.  I also learned today that we are hopefully taking a staff trip to climb Mt. Edgecumbe this summer -- super stoked!

The tidal flats outside the office

So far, the weather has been incredible. It changes by the minute, but even when it's been cold, windy, and cloudy, we haven't really gotten more than a few minutes of rain. In the evenings after work, it's usually sunny, which makes me feel guilty for being so worn out. I should be outside running or hiking! Hopefully soon I can find an active routine for after work that doesn't involve getting home, making dinner, and then crashing, exhausted for the night.

One of the totem poles

Today I spent my lunch break birding the trails at the park. I've gotten 4 lifers in the last 2 days: Black oystercatcher, chestnut-backed chickadee, varied thrush, and northwestern crow, all of which are very common here, but specific to the area. A couple of the other interps are active birders as well, so it helps to have other people around who know what they're looking at.

My Tlingit style salmon

Today after some super-riveting Operational Leadership, we walked downtown to a local native art gallery, owned by an artist who carved 5 of the park's totem poles. It was really interesting hearing about the different forms and processes of the native art, and I feel like I definitely have a better understanding of the basic shapes, symbols, and meanings of the poles now! Afterward, we did an exercise where we had to make some of our own artwork using the traditional styles (tough life, I know).

Some people in our group found it extremely hard and frustrating, but once I got used to it I thought it was really cool (not to say I'm very good at it, but I can see how it would get easier with practice). There are 3 basic shapes you'll see repeatedly in this type of pacific northwest art: ovoids, U-forms, and S-shapes. Drawing these was somewhat of a challenge, but I can't imagine carving these shapes into wood!  The good news is, each Tlingit/Haida artist has his or her own style, so there's not exactly a "wrong" way to do it, as long as you're interpreting the 3 basic formlines into each figure. I'm pretty proud of my salmon, not gonna lie.

Every day has been chock-full of training sessions, but I still feel pretty unprepared for the first cruise ships that will be arriving in a couple weeks. Apparently each cruise ship can have over 2,000 passengers, who are bussed into town for a few hours and frantically dash around trying to see everything they can. It sounds like there might be a dozen or more of these tourist influxes this summer, during which it will be all-hands-on-deck for the NPS to lead as many programs as we can. From what it sounds like, Sitka is also attempting to increase its cruise ship traffic in the coming years, as Alaska is heavily promoting its cruise ship tourism throughout its coastal areas. Good news for the town economy, but there seems to be an overall cynicism from the locals on the cruise ship tourists. Everyone kind of rolls their eyes or groans when you mention it. I can't wait!

Still so much to learn and do and see! Hopefully this weekend I'll be able to get out and take more photos, as my pictures so far have just not done justice to the beauty of this place.

It's a new day!

I am so proud of myself.

Let me preface this by saying that one of my goals this summer was to take a new approach to being “new” somewhere. When I first moved to Nome, I remember blogging about how nervous I was just to walk down to the grocery store. And though I never wrote about it, I was also incredibly shy my first few weeks there, and had no idea how to simply go downstairs in the bunkhouse and hang out with my coworkers. Even though making friends has never been a major priority of mine, the lack of a strong community there – mainly from my own lack of effort to find one – impacted my experience in many ways.

Sunny Easter Sunday on the harbor

I didn’t want to make the same mistakes here, so a few days before arriving, I connected with a fellow Udall Scholar who lives here. She seemed excited to meet me and help me become acquainted with Sitka, so we arranged to meet at the Larkspur Café for brunch this morning. When I arrived, it turned out it was a group brunch and I found myself seated in the middle of a long table with about 9 other 20-somethings. I never got a chance to talk to everyone, but it was great to make a bunch of connections and soak up all the information they were throwing at me about Sitka. I asked a ton of questions, most of which someone at the table knew the answer. I am not sure if these connections will last, but I’m proud of myself for stepping out of my social comfort zone to reach out to people. And as I have found time and time again, people are incredibly generous and welcoming when given the opportunity.

After an impossibly delicious breakfast of scrambled eggs with smoked salmon and gouda, I took a leisurely walk back across town. I stopped at the library, hoping it might be open, but it turned out to be closed. By the way, it’s Easter Sunday! Surprise! On my way there, I passed a tall, lanky Jamaican man on the sidewalk. He greeted me with a big grin and said, “Happy Easter!” “You too,” I responded, to which he replied “And 420!” I tell you, this town is a hoot. Well, the library wasn’t open, but I found I could get wifi outside. Surprisingly though, I couldn’t find it in me to use the internet for long though, as I was too excited to hit the trails on this sunny day. After running back to the house to change and grab my hiking gear, I found my way to the trailhead of the Gavan Hill Trail just down the street.

My god it was gorgeous! The trail consisted mainly of single-file or double planks elevated a few inches from the soggy ground. The understory of the heavily wooded forest was covered in soft, vibrantly green moss. Even though it was mostly sunny out, the trees were so dense that the trail was fairly dark. It meandered for about .8 miles until it came to cross with another trail. I continued following it up the mountain, a mile to the lookout.

Plank trail up the mountain

Let me tell you: longest mile of my life! I could swear it was longer. It was fun and gorgeous and exciting for sure, but the higher I got, the more my knees and ankles protested, reminding me of how embarrassingly out of shape I am. Thank goodness I was hiking alone. I took as many breaks as I wanted and huffed and puffed and groaned my way up. I also took a lot of time to film some shots with the GoPro, in the hopes of making another film this summer.

There were only a couple other people I passed along the way. Coincidentally, two of them happened to be people I met at brunch this morning! I think they only half-recognized me, but I asked how far it was to the top. “Only another 20-30 minutes to the lookout,” they replied. I can do that, I thought confidently.

Well, 20 minutes turned into something more like 40. Even more humiliating, I was passed by a fit, grey-haired man running up the steep, slippery, narrow trail with his dog. I know they were judging me, both of them!

I wanted so desperately to turn around after 20 minutes had passed and I still saw no sign of the lookout. But when I glanced behind me, I saw faintly through the trees a grand vista of the ocean and islands out behind me. I’ve got to make it now. In fact, I couldn’t even imagine turning back at this point, though a year ago it would have seemed just as good a choice as any.

Up and up and up the steep wooden steps and sloppy muddy trail I hiked, my thighs burning, knees aching, and shirt soaked through with sweat.

View from the lookout

Finally I saw it: the lookout, a plain, small platform jutting out towards a clearing of trees. The mountain rose still further behind me but I staggered gratefully onto the platform and leaned against the railing. The view took my breath away and brought tears to my eyes. I can’t believe I live here! The clouds were starting to come in, and a chilly breeze had picked up, but still I could see out for miles. Little islands dotted the ocean, and bigger islands jutted out with snowcapped mountains. I could see the town, the harbor, little boats cruising from island to island. I wanted to see a whale, but even with my binoculars I couldn’t find any wildlife stirring in the sea.

Looking down on downtown

I took in the view for as long as I could, taking pictures, trying to gather up my strength for the downhill hike back. I still wanted to get to the top of the mountain, but judging by how tired I was by now, I decided to save that for another day.

The hike back didn’t seem quite as long, but my ankles hated all the stairs. Down, down, down. My ears popped as I descended another 1,000 feet in elevation on a small, steep stretch of trail. When I finally made it back to the trailhead, the 3.6 mile total hike had taken me about 3 hours, ridiculously slow for my usual speed! But I made it, and felt completely satisfied and content with my Easter hike for the day.

Tomorrow training begins. Hurray!

The first day

Saturday, 19 April 2014

This morning I awoke ready to go play outside. I don’t remember waking up this motivated in a long time, but after a quick breakfast and some coffee during which I inspected a map of town, I took off down the road. Although I didn’t end up walking where I intended to go, I found myself on a back residential road lined with cute little houses. While these houses are old and weathered, unlike Nome, they don’t appear to be rundown shacks. Sitka is quite a bit wealthier and has a much “whiter” demographic, which unfortunately translates to a slightly more upscale community. But I do feel safer here.

I eventually find my way to a lake full of quacking mallards, and then remember which way to go for the town center. I wander down the sidewalk and it seems everyone I pass greets me with a smile or a nod. I walk through what must be the main tourist drag in the summer and stop in a couple shops, but everything seems mostly dead, even on a Saturday. When I get to the harbor, it’s a bit more active, and the sounds of gulls laughing and the ding-dinging of boat sails carries over the wind. I climb to the top of a historic site known as Baranof’s Castle, which offers great views of town and the surrounding mountains.

View from Baranof's Castle

View from Baranof's Castle

It becomes increasingly windier the closer I get to the harbor. I walk along its edge until I reach Sitka National Historical Site, the visitor center where I’ll be working this summer. I wander through its exhibits and the totem hall, and then meet the other interp rangers with whom I’ll be working. They’re all very friendly and give me a cup of hot chocolate and a bunch of brochures. I think I’m going to like it here.  With my hot cocoa in hand, I wander down the nature trail, which is scattered with totem poles that almost blend into the forest. I walk out onto the tidal flats where several people are also strolling, collecting shells, gumboots, and other various ocean treasures.

The tidal flats

I hike about 2 miles through the spruce rain forests of the park. There are remnants of the Tlingit fort that was occupied during the Battle of 1804 when the Russians and Aleuts attacked the Tlingits, and then across the mouth of the Indian River is the Russian memorial. I am somewhat amazed by the serenity of this place; I feel like I’m out in the middle of nowhere, and yet when I come to a less dense part of the forest, I can see houses and boats and harbors through the trees, not even a quarter mile away. I’m really right in the middle of town.

Mt. Edgecumbe, the local volcano

I can't believe I live here

Even this time of year, the park is moderately busy. I pass at least 4 people walking their dogs on the trail, and others hiking with cameras or binoculars. Migration season is just beginning and the tidal flats are teeming with gulls, shorebirds, ravens, and bald eagles. The eagles are as common as pigeons around here! As I’m hiking, I keep hearing crashing in the trees above me, only to look up and see an eagle taking off. When I stop at an overlook to see across the cove, I see pairs of eagles courting high in the sky against a backdrop of snowcapped mountains.

The distant building on the right is my office

Indian River

The totem trail

On day 1, Sitka is a dream. I don’t know how it will be later in the summer, but right now I feel like I could enjoy this place for a long time to come. Tomorrow I think I will try to hike some of the trails, and then Monday work and training begins. So much to look forward to!

Welcome to Sitka!

Friday, 18 April 2014, 17:41.

When I arrive in Sitka, the late afternoon sun is beaming golden and bright on a town I was told would be cloudy and rainy all summer. Perhaps it will be, but on this night the sun shines as if it will shine forever, casting Sitka in a friendly light that beckons me into its charming hold.

In the airport, the ranger who picks me up introduces me to at least a dozen people who work at the park or around town. Everyone is so incredibly friendly and happy to be here. We drive around town and Ranger Ryan points out various places that will inevitably become familiar over the summer, but right now seem like a disorienting blur in all the new things my brain is trying to comprehend.
We stop at the grocery store where I am once again assaulted by outrageous Alaska prices, paying $5.45 for a carton of almond milk, $7.98 for the coffee on sale, and $4.89 for a box of Corn Chex, among other basic items. Seventy bucks later, I have barely a week’s worth of groceries and some essentials that will last me a bit longer. Shoot me.

The only good thing about the grocery store (it’s called “Sea Mart,” ha), is that it has the best view of the ocean in town. This is saying a lot, since the entire island is actually full of incredible views. Everywhere you look on the coast, you see small forested islands against a backdrop of larger, mountainous islands dropping their spruce-covered cliffs into the crashing tides. It’s epic. Mount Edgecumbe, the local volcano, is still half-covered with snow, as are the other tall peaks visible whose names I do not yet know. The scenery is dramatic, picturesque, and sublime all at once, invoking a sense of inspiration in me that I have not felt in a very long time.

My new abode is on the second floor of a government bunkhouse, tucked away in the woods beside Sitka National Cemetery. It’s much homier than my accommodations in Nome and looks as if it has been recently refurbished from some 70s style interior design. My room is a fraction of the size of my old one, but is sufficiently furnished with a twin-sized captain’s bed, mini-fridge, desk, chair, and small closet space. There’s one bathroom shared by the 4 bedrooms, and a small shared kitchen and living room area. There’s one other person rooming here right now, an archaeologist who is performing damage surveys of some sort in the park. The other rangers live in a bunkhouse that’s just next door, but I haven’t been over to it yet.

I think I’m going to like it here. As some people I talked to said, Sitka is a very quiet town. It’s remote, but doesn’t feel too remote, and its plethora of trails, tidal flats, and historic areas leave plenty to do, so I doubt I’ll ever get bored.  

On my way...

My life reduced to backpacks again.

Tomorrow I leave for Alaska for the 3rd time in my life. God I'm a lucky girl! I've spent the past two days consolidating my belongings to fit in 4 bags, this time with no place to store anything that I can't take with me. I'm moving out of my apartment in Spokane for good, heading to Sitka, and seeing what happens from there. Peter left yesterday, much to my dismay, and it will likely be 5-6 months before we see each other again (though we both have our fingers crossed we can fit in at least one visit mid-summer).

This is also the last day I will have home internet access, so periodic blog updates should be fairly comprehensive this summer to keep everyone updated on my adventures.  I should have cell service, so that's probably the best way to get in touch with me.

Hopefully before I leave tomorrow, or en route, I will be putting up one more post on Sitkan history. Last night I delved pretty heavily into Russian Tsars and colonial battles to distract myself from the sadness of Peter leaving, so I'll try to type that up before I forget.

I love you all, and will do my best to stay in touch this summer!

The anthropology of totem poles

When I arrived back in Spokane last week, I came home to a package from Sitka National Historical Park. Inside were the following contents:

My loot

• A postcard from the supervisors
• The Most Striking of Objects: The Totem Poles of Sitka National Historical Park
• Carved History: The Totem Poles and House Posts of Sitka National Historical Park
• The Russian Bishop's House: Legacy of an Empire 1842
• For God & Tsar: A Brief History of Russian America 1741-1867
• A key-shaped thumb drive

It took me a while to figure out that the key was, indeed, a thumb drive, but when I plugged it into my laptop, it came up with folders upon folders of training documents, amounting to literally hundreds of pages of information.

Where to begin? I wondered.

I decided to start with totem poles, one of Sitka's most prominent tangible features. I read all the documents in the "Totem Poles" folder, and then spent the next 3 days taking notes on The Most Striking of Objects, which actually contains a surprisingly thorough history of the topic.

NPS photo

In order to understand totem poles, one must first have some knowledge of the Tlingit (pronounced "KLINK-it"), one of the most prosperous sedentary non-agricultural societies in the world. Reading up on the Tlingit totally brought me back to my anthropology classes in college, studying the works of Levi-Strauss and Boas, who contributed greatly to our modern understandings of Northwest indigenous groups.

What made Tlingit society so prosperous, though? Well, their villages contained multiple clans, each self-governed by a clan leader, with the dominant clan's leader ruling the entire village. This matrilineal society as a whole is divided into 2 moieties (descent groups), Eagle/Wolf and Raven. As such, Eagles can only marry Ravens and vice versa, with lineage being passed down through the mother (i.e. if the mother is Raven, her sons and daughters will also be Raven even though their father is Eagle). Pretty neat, huh?

So now we come to our totem poles. These first came about most likely as house posts, and then to represent clans, or families, in the villages, often presented at potlatches given by influential village members. The word comes from the Algonquin word "ototeman," meaning "he is a relative of mine." There are 3 main types of poles:

1. Crest poles: located in front of each clan house, facing the ocean, and identifies the family who lives there. These usually displayed the moiety affiliation and other animals associated with the clan.
2. Memorial poles: Honor someone important or deceased; some hold the ashes of the deceased in a cavity in the back or on top of the pole. These were often plain in design with one figurehead on top.
3. Legend poles: Record events or the history of a clan, often with multiples figures or designs throughout.

The design and placement of a pole can also have a bearing on its purpose. Some poles were designed to shame someone who failed to pay a debt or committed a crime; others might commemorate a significant event. 

NPS photo/E.W. Merrill

Then of course, European contact happened. It started with the Russian fur traders in 1741 who discovered the abundance of sea otters around Alaska's southeastern islands. As the century progressed, British and later, American explorers also hopped on the bandwagon actively trading with the Tlingit -- and not only furs, but also alcohol and other foreign commodities, making way for the eventual acculturation and cultural borrowing of the indigenous communities.

Interestingly, aside from the introduction of new diseases and alcoholism into Tlingit society, the native groups gained some benefit from their commercial relationship with the Europeans. They began carving more totem poles, and even became capitalistic, trading with more remote native tribes and then selling to the Europeans at inflated prices.

In some ways, this worsened the economic disparity present in Tlingit society. Only higher ranked members traded with the Europeans, which further elevated their status, while lower-class villagers remained in their lower ranks. It wasn't until the "virgin soil epidemics," when new diseases were introduced, that the social statuses were evened out because of the population reduction (and hence opportunities for lower-status members to assume higher ranks).

Those shifty Europeans... (NPS photo/E.W. Merrill)

With the expansion of the fur trade and European presence in southeast Alaska came the missionaries. The only major attempt, however, was the Russian Orthodox Church, which met resistance from the Tlingit society. By this time, the Tlingits were already so prosperous, materialistic, and individualistic that they saw no benefit to converting to the Western ways, and continued about their business as usual. 

After Alaska was purchased in 1867 however, American policies and missionaries became more predominant, and the native culture slowly began to wane. Alcoholism ran rampant, the fur trade industry gave way to commercial fishing as the sea otters were hunted out, and the native villagers went to work for fish canneries. In addition, shamans lost their credibility with their inability to cure the introduced diseases, causing a rift in native healing traditions and beliefs. With Christian missionary schools popping up like dandelions, totem poles became less significant because they were seen as heathen icons.

A glimpse of Sitka at the turn of the century (NPS Photo)

By this point, it's the 1890s and things are not going well for the Tlingit. So enter our hero, Governor John Brady. He actually had a pretty good relationship with the Tlingit, and was commissioned to collect totem poles for two upcoming World's Fairs, the Louisiana Purchase Exposition in St. Louis, and the Lewis & Clark Exposition in Portland in 1904. With these, he created elaborate displays of native culture in Alaska, spurring a renewed interest in tourism and homesteading on the Last Frontier.

After the World's Fairs in 1906, the totem poles were brought back to Sitka and placed in the government park, what is now Sitka National Historical Park (I told you it was the oldest federal park in Alaska, didn't I?). The poles were erected and arranged by one Elbridge W. Merrill, an eccentric local photographer who eventually became the park's caretaker. He arranged them to be aesthetically pleasing along the park's trail, and cared for them for years but refused to be employed and paid by the park service.

Interesting side note: at this point in 1918, an NPS ranger's annual salary was a whopping $12 per year!

Well, eventually the park received more funding, with FDR's New Deal, the Civilian Conservation Corps, and the Works Progress Administration, allowing for better upkeep of the totem poles. They were re-carved in the 1940s, as most of them had rotted away and in 1972 the park was christened Sitka National Historical Park by Pres. Nixon, securing it slightly more adequate funding and providing federal protection of the totem poles and historic sites located within its boundaries.

So there you have it, the abbreviated history of Sitka's totem poles as interpreted by yours truly.

Up next, Russian tsars, bishops, and bloody battles!