Life on the Edge of the Arctic Ocean

Dedication

To my husband Jim and our four sons,

Derek, Jay, Isaac, and Aaron

Contents

Dedication

Utqiaġvik

Acknowledgements

Introduction

Where We Live

Prelude: Lost in a Whiteout

PART ONE - Beginnings – Up to 1970s

Chapter 1 - My Early Years

Pre-Alaska Days

Arriving in Barrow

Childhood in Barrow

Alaska Flying Adventure

Hospital

Leaving Barrow

Return Visit

Meeting Helmericks Family and Jim

Back to Alaska, My True Home

PART TWO - Helmericks Colville Homesite—1970s Onward

Chapter 2 - Life on the Colville River Delta

How It Began

Return to the Homesite in 1970

Summer Commercial Fishing, Niglik

Big Game Guiding

Sheep Camp

Moose and Other Big Game Hunting

Fall Freezeup

Winter Commercial Fishing

Chapter 3 - Family Life

Our Children

Derek’s First Trip Home

More Children

Medical Emergencies

Homeschooling

Chores

Firewood

Winter Water Chores

Summer Water Chores

More Chores

Rabbit House Incident

Embarrassing Incident

Chapter 4 - Family Hunting

Our Meat Supply

Teena’s First Caribou

Muskox Hunt

Chapter 5 - Challenging Life on the Colville River

C-46 Cargo Plane Saga

Building our New Home, Lodge and Museum

Communications on the Colville Homesite

Pilot’s Wife

Transportation

Machinery Woes

Chapter 6 - Our Livelihood

Scope of Our Work and Services

Our Museum

Chapter 7 - Pets and Animals at our Homesite

Pets

Clyde, the Caribou

Muskox Visitors

Other Critters

Barney

Farm Animals

Bear Encounters

Polar Bears

Teena’s Unfortunate Encounter

PART THREE - Along the Way of Our Arctic Life

Chapter 8 - Arctic Environment

Winter

Colville Village Sun Chart

Drive to Pingok Island

Spring

A Long Ride

Summer

Itkillik River Canoe Trip

Fall

Camping and Colville River Trip

Chapter 9 - Weather Rules

Effects of Weather

Big Storm—Slope-wide

Day of Trauma—Wild River

More Weather Challenges!

Ironic Incidents

Chapter 10 - Haul Road Adventures

What About the Roads?

Headlights Out

Winter Storms Conditions

Summer Travels

Scary Vehicular Incidents

Wildlife Encounters on Haul Road

A Special Life

Afterward

Appendix

Iñupiaq Terms

Glossary

Locations

Studies and Projects We Supported

About the Author

Index

List of Illustrations

List of Illustrations

Anachlik Island, looking north

Maps of Alaska and North Slope

Helmericks Homesite on Anachlik Island, looking west

Teena pre-Alaskan days, 1950

Teena and her brother Mark

Wartes family, 1951

Children playing in Barrow mid-1950s

Teena and Mark after snow storm, 1952

Barrow Manse and hospital, 1950s

Arctic Messenger flies over Barrow church

Utqiaġvik Presbyterian Church and sign

Wartes family, Christmas 1957

Wartes family with plane and whale sign, 1958

Teena’s return to Barrow in 1965, baby Joli

Jim Helmericks as a ten-year-old

Jim and Teena with Snow Goose

Jim and Teena, wedding, 1970

Honeymoon on Takahula Lake, 1970

Teena at Takahula Lake, 1970

Walker Lake

Walker Lake caribou

Anachlik Island, looking west

Living in tents inside snow-houses, Anachlik Island

Cargo flight to Colville River Delta, 1950s

First two-story house on Anachlik Island, 1950s

Helmericks Homesite, 1990s

Helmericks Homesite, 1970

Teena and Jim at summer home at the Niglik

Niglik buildings, 1970s

Teena picks nets, Niglik, 1970

Walrus hunting off Barrow, 1970

Teena’s only seal hunt, 1972

Jim, Piper Super Cub, Brooks Range Sheep Camp, 1971

Teena and baby Derek with grizzly bear

Teena at Brooks Range Sheep Camp

Teena and baby Derek at last tree, Brooks Range Sheep Camp, 1973

Piper Super Cub with skis, Colville

C-206 on wheelskis on lake ice

Jim and Teena working fish nets

Helmericks boys sort and count fish

Sewing closed and weighing fish sacks

Snowmachine and box for hauling fish, polar bear

Jim and Teena and three boys, family homesite, 1979

Derek, Jay, Isaac, and Aaron, 1981

Derek, Jay, Isaac, and Aaron, 1982

Cat-train to Colville River from Deadhorse

Teena and baby Derek in tractor sled

Teena carries Derek inside her parka

Helmericks boys wear fur-lined parkas made by Teena

Boys with school supplies

Helmericks boys riding bikes, 1992

Aaron’s UAF graduation with brothers

Teena collects firewood with baby

Jim hauls firewood

Isaac and Clyde, firewood chores

Water haul chores

Filling indoor water tanks

Teena shoots caribou for fresh meat by Niglik cabin

Derek and Aaron hanging fresh caribou meat

Cutting meat for dinner

Muskox bull harvested, 1996

Teena adds to the family meat supply

Unloading C-46 cargo plane on Colville River Delta ice, 1950s

Loading/unloading C-46 cargo plane with cargo

Colville Village buildings and runway looking northeast

Lakeside of home/lodge

Homesite buildings between the river and lake

Homesite buildings, 2012

Museum and plants in upstairs Greatroom

Helmericks home in July with Jacob’s Ladder flowers

Anachlik Island, Colville River Delta looking west

Jim and Teena by their C-206 on floats

Transferring supplies for the Homestead

Helmericks new truck parked at a nearby drillsite

Typical North Slope ice road

Arctic Alaska Adventures brochure pages

Helmericks planes: Piper Super Cub and Cessna 206 Stationair

Golden Plover Air patch

Jim with his Piper Super Cub

Busy summer season for our C-206 on floats

Jim Helmericks, photographer

Teena and childhood friend beside Museum sign

Museum rooms including manikin in old caribou-fur clothing

Museum Greatroom lounge area with caribou mounts

Museum room, bird mounts and other specimens

West corner of Greatroom

Upper northeast wall in Greatroom with mounts

Flying bird mounts by Derek

Derek with dairy goats, boys with pets rabbit

Jim pumping fuel with his faithful Ruby

Clyde looking in kitchen window and chewing his cud

Muskox cow and calf graze by the house in July

Barney playing soccer with the boys

Barney, the Brant, hanging out with Teena’s dad in yard

Brant nesting around homesite

Teena and Derek after milking the goat

Polar bear checks out bags of fish

Polar bear crossing property in the fall

Polar bear wandering by deck

Derek picking net with nearby feeding polar bear

Polar bear strolling by our parked plane

Bruno the polar bear lying on house deck

Teena and Toby, the hero dog

Grizzly bear on tundra

Anachlik Island looking north toward the Arctic Ocean

Modern GPS helps Jay and Isaac find their way home

High winds carve sastrugi (waves of large snow drifts)

High winds create huge drifts around buildings

Huge snow drifts block windows on southwest end of house

Aurora Borealis over our house/lodge

Amazing halos, perihelia and rare patterns form around the sun

Jim’s Butterfly aurora

Light pillars rise high into the sky

Mirage of oil facility as seen east of homesite

Black and white Snow Buntings

Spring birds, Lapland Longspur and Snow Buntings

Jim securing boats as breakup flood waters rise

Ice breaks up and moves downriver late May or Early June

Jim views ride-up ice chunks after flood and destruction, 2015

Teena hauling supplies by snowmachine

Capitate Valerian blooms

Caribou moving through the delta

Jim canoes on lake by house

Teena and boys upriver on the Colville

Teena and grandkids, 2012

Summer birds: Sabine’s Gull, Brant

Teena and three boys in canoe on Itkillik River

Teena and boys around campfire

Derek catches dinner

Teena and boys with mammoth tusk, 1985

Ptarmigan turning white for winter

Fall sunset

Carolina Skiff, parked at camp

The three hundred-foot-high Colville River Bluffs

Carolina Skiff, river-cruising boat

Teena and Jay brace airplane tail

Upstairs museum rooms full of snow, 1989

Northbound Haul Road trip, May 1987

Northbound Haul Road headed to our Colville homesite, 1987

Teena’s only flat tire on truck

Muskoxen along the Haul Road

Teena at work in the oil field

Teena on bear guard duty

Teena working on Spill Response vessel, Prudhoe Bay

Jim and Teena in museum

Teena and Jim with four sons in the Colville home, spring 2018

Dedicated to Ruby

Utqiaġvik

The northernmost community in the United States sits near the tip of Alaska on the Arctic Ocean. It resides at the transition point between the Chukchi Sea to the west and the Beaufort Sea to the east.

This is the land of the Iñupiat people who have inhabited the coastline for thousands of years. They called their village Utqiaġvik.

In 1826, a Royal Navy officer, Frederick W. Beechey, was sent to explore and map the Arctic coastline of North America. He named the northernmost point for Sir John Barrow, Second Secretary to the Admiralty. The village of Utqiaġvik was located a short distance east from the point and so became known as Barrow.

The name Barrow remained in use until 2016, when the town citizens voted to reinstate the village’s traditional Iñupiaq name: Utqiaġvik. This was an important step honoring the Iñupiat culture and boosting use of the language.

The first section of the book covers the author’s childhood growing up in this wonderful village in the 1950s. Remaining chapters detail the years she and her husband raised four boys, fishing, hunting, and exploring the Arctic along the Colville River Delta. Barrow was the name in use during these events and is therefore used throughout the book.

The author and publisher wish to honor the return of Utqiaġvik and recognize it as the correct and current name.

Acknowledgements

Thank you to my husband, Jim, with whom I’ve shared over fifty years of Colville Homestead life. Many thanks for sharing his many excellent photos and his assistance in keeping facts and figures accurate for this book.

I appreciate my four sons, Derek, Jay, Isaac, and Aaron, who lived this life with Jim and me. They always found people’s curiosity over their lives peculiar since it was simply our way of life which was ordinary to them. I love you all so much!

To all my family and friends who unrelentingly encouraged me to write down the stories of my life in Arctic Alaska, I hope you find this work full of answers to your many questions. I appreciate the love and support from you all.

I have many people to thank for all the help and encouragement given me over the years to promote the writing and publishing this book. Other than all my family and many friends, there are a few I want to especially mention.

Special thanks goes to my sister-in-law, Denise Wartes, who was persistent in giving me both encouragement and technical guidance over many years, especially when I would bog down for long periods when multiple home duties and outside jobs distracted me.

Thanks to my friend Clive Beckmann for giving me a much needed boost with early-on editing.

Thanks to my many friends and colleagues in my oil field jobs who persistently asked the questions about my unusual family life and wanted me to tell them more. You have to write a book, they would say! Here you are—this is for you.

Lastly, much credit goes to Connie Taylor, my publisher, who helped me organize and edit my stories. Her expertise and guidance gave me the final thrust to pull everything together and create this book. Thank you, Connie, so much!

Introduction

It has not been easy to pull together stories and descriptions of my unusual life, but I have continually been encouraged to write and share these experiences. What started as a few stories has developed into more of an autobiography and memoir.

Therefore, the stories and lifestyle descriptions in this book try to answer the main questions about me and my family’s Arctic lives. So many questions: When, Where, How, and most often, Why?

My unique Alaskan lifestyle began in childhood in Barrow, the northernmost community in the United States. This upbringing in an Arctic village later prepared me for and greatly influenced my family life on the edge of the Arctic Ocean where it butts up against the Colville River Delta.

Life here in the Arctic has always been a challenge for my family—a life of struggles against the harsh elements, extremely hard work, developing self-taught construction and mechanical skills, and long periods of isolation from extended family and friends. Yet through it all, there has been joy and satisfaction in overcoming these hardships, and pride in all my family’s accomplishments reached through industriousness, ingenuity, and resourcefulness. Together we have built a remarkable life of freedom, independence, and value.

Overlaying it all has been trust in God’s care and His benevolence in all circumstances. Besides this, my husband, Jim, and I have had to have unrelenting confidence in each other through it all. After a brief stay with us, a guest once told us, You live on the edge of disaster all the time! He went on to explain how he saw our lives. You are so dependent on each other that if some misfortune took one of you away, the other could not survive here long. That is probably true, but with the grace of God and much perseverance, we continue life on the Colville. We have maintained a three-generation homestead, added many buildings and improvements, developed businesses, and raised our children in a land few ever see, let alone experience first-hand.

A big contributing factor to our successful homestead lifestyle at such a unique location can be traced back to both my husband Jim’s and my childhoods. I grew up in the Arctic with no childhood memories of any other place and it was naturally home for me. Jim started his life as a young Colorado farm boy who quickly adapted his childhood experiences to Arctic life. We both had amazing parents that infused us with uncompromising love and fierceness for dealing with whatever life threw at us. Therefore, I feel it is appropriate to include in this saga some backgrounds from us both.

Teena Helmericks

Spring 2023

Our homestead on Anachlik Island, looking north.

Where We Live

The Delta is full of small lakes and streams not shown here on the map as well as many sandbars and dunes. Only a few of the channels are navigable. It is prime waterfowl habitat with nutritious salt grasses along the face of the Delta.

Prelude:

Lost in a Whiteout

I was lost in a white world! It was slightly above 0°F and a SW wind was driving snow into my face so hard that my visibility was seriously limited by icy snow crystals striking my eyes like painful needles. I couldn’t wear my snow goggles since they impeded my visibility even more.

I had been following a trail, but the visibility was so bad I had suddenly lost the trail with a blink of the eyes. I swerved back and forth trying to find the older snowmachine track again. It was nowhere to be seen. I knew I was in trouble.

I admit that the trail from the start was only visible for a few feet in front of me, but I thought I could stay on track, not knowing the wind and blowing snow would continue to increase, cutting visibility practically to nil. Maybe I should have turned back at that point.

I had started this rigorous snowmachine drive from our end-of-road access point to our remote homestead home in the Colville River Delta. I made the drive twice a month as I left and returned home from my oil field job. There were no roads all the way home, so I had to use my snowmobile, or as we call them in Alaska, a snowmachine, to get across the final five miles of tundra and frozen river channels. I was dressed in my fur parka and other cold-weather gear.

After two weeks of intense twelve-hour days, seven days a week work, I was super eager to get home. My husband, Jim, waiting at home, had advised me to wait for better weather, but I was overly confident and stubborn. Now I was in a pickle.

I kept driving, thinking as long as I kept the wind in my face, I was at least headed in the right general direction and would come upon the trail again shortly. The minutes slipped away, and still no trail. I lost track of time, but knew I was far enough overdue getting home by then that Jim would be out searching for me. That gave me comfort, but also irritated me that I caused him worry and extra work. I should have followed his recommendation to wait for better weather.

Fatigue was setting in as I hung on to the handlebars of my snowmachine and lurched over incredibly rough snowdrifts. It had already been a long day, as I rose at 5 a.m. at work and had to drive my truck three to four hours to get to the jumping-off location where my parked snowmachine waited. My stamina was winding down, but I continued driving in increasingly bigger circles trying to find the trail I was supposed to be following. Jim was driving his snowmachine over the trail from our house when he caught a glimpse of my headlight bouncing along as I circled toward him. He turned and headed straight for me, at which point I saw his light appear out of the drifting snow.

I was found! Fortunately, God was with me that day as always and shortened my exhausting ordeal. Jim was able to lead me straight home with his superior sense of direction despite the increasing intensity of the storm. I had veered off-track by about twenty-five degrees and would have completely missed our house if I had continued in the direction I was headed. Thankfully, Jim had my back!

We keep strict protocol for dangerous traveling conditions with check-in times and rescue plans. It has served us well over the many years of travel across harsh and remote landscapes.

PART ONE

Beginnings – Up to 1970s

Aerial of Anachlik Island looking north with Arctic Ocean pack ice on the horizon. East channel of the Colville River in the foregound.

Chapter 1

My Early Years

Pre-Alaska Days

I was born in Seattle, Washington, on June 9, 1948. Bonnie and Bill Wartes named their third child a Biblical name they had liked from Sunday School days, Ascenath, with middle name Blanche after her paternal grandmother. Ascenath is Egyptian; this was the name of Joseph’s wife, the high priest’s daughter. Remember Joseph, the eleventh son of Jacob, who was sold into slavery by his ten older brothers? Joseph later rose from slavery to the highest position in Egypt under the pharaoh. The part of that story where Ascenath is mentioned is in the forty-first chapter of Genesis, and the name is spelled Asenath in the Bible.

My older brother Mark, three when I was born, could not pronounce Ascenath. His attempts to do so sounded like Tee-nah, this nickname stuck, and this is the name by which most people have known me all my life.

Teena pre-Alaskan days, 1950.

My mother and father were both raised in Seattle, graduated from Ballard High School, and attended the University of Washington. They married in 1942. Dad joined the Air Force in 1943 and was soon piloting B-24 bombers up and down the Pacific coast on guard patrol. He also trained many other pilots during WWII. After the atomic bomb dropped on Hiroshima, Dad was honorably discharged from the service to continue his training in Christian ministry at the University of Washington and he pastored a church in Lakewood, Washington.

Teena with her brother Mark before moving to Barrow.

Just after I was born, we moved to Marin City, California, for Dad to attend San Anselmo Seminary for three years. Straight from Barrow, Alaska, under the Presbyterian Board of National Missions. Dad was the ideal choice since a pastor was needed who could fly a brand-new mission airplane purchased for the northern Alaska mission field, plus Dad’s carpentry experience was needed for the building of a new sanctuary. Building materials had already been shipped to Barrow and were stacked on the ocean beach. Dad was a pilot, an architect, and an ordained pastor willing to go to a mission field, a perfect match for Barrow.

Wartes family before leaving Seattle for Alaska, 1951, left to right, Bill, Teena held by Bonnie, Mark, Merrily.

Just after I was born, we moved to Marin City, California, for Dad to attend San Anselmo Seminary for three years. Straight from there, Mom and Dad accepted a missionary position in Barrow, Alaska, under the Presbyterian Board of National Missions. Dad was the ideal choice since a pastor was needed who could fly a brand-new mission airplane purchased for the northern Alaska mission field, plus Dad’s carpentry experience was needed for the building of a new sanctuary. Building materials had already been shipped to Barrow and were stacked on the ocean beach. Dad was a pilot, an architect, and an ordained pastor willing to go to a mission field, a perfect match for Barrow.

Arriving in Barrow

I arrived in Barrow the summer of 1951. Our family of five, Mom and Dad, older sister and brother, Merrily and Mark, and I, left Seattle aboard a ship to Seward early July. From Seward to Fairbanks, we traveled by train. We boarded a DC-3 in Fairbanks. This large twin engine plane took us to Barrow, where we landed on the only large runway located east of Barrow at the Navy Arctic Research Lab (NARL). Samuel Simmonds, an exceptional Iñupiat man who would later become Dad’s assistant and interpreter, met us at the airport with a tractor pulling a large open sled to carry us and all our belongings the six miles into Barrow. My mother loves to tell the story about my innocent remark while riding the sled into Barrow. I had casually said, Back in the world, we had a red car.

So, at barely three years of age, forgetting any earlier memories, I became an Alaskan for life. The die was cast, and Alaska would always be my home.

My parents had always wanted to serve in a small community, somewhere on a mission field. They fit in quickly and loved Barrow and its friendly people. The Iñupiat people of Barrow were already well versed in the Christian faith from earlier missionaries, and the church was the focal point of the whole community. Dad was soon immersed in leading his new flock, directing the building of the new church sanctuary, and flying the new mission plane to outlying villages that had no in-house pastor.

Children playing in yard of the manse with church in center, 1950s.

Mother not only cared for her family, but also helped a great deal with church business, community record-keeping, and other church-related tasks such as teaching women’s Bible studies. She had prepared well for supporting her family, who would be living far from stores and easily obtained goods, by ordering enough groceries and other household supplies to last a year before leaving Seattle. Most supplies needed in the furthest north community in North America had to arrive by one annual supply ship, the North Star. Mom had planned out meals and food quantities necessary to feed her family for more than a year at a time, and these supplies, having left Seattle by ship several months earlier, were to arrive in Barrow a month or so after we got there. We were soon a family of six. Mother was pregnant when we first arrived and my little sister Marti was born in January 1952.

My siblings and I were soon accepted into community life with all the other children. Wearing new fur parkas and other warm outdoor clothing, we were hard to distinguish from any other local child. It wasn’t long before we spoke the same Pig Latin as the other children—a mixture of the Iñupiaq language spattered with English. Most of the people could speak English quite well by the 1950s and only some older folks still had difficulty. Dad decided not to take