Utqiagvik, Where the Arctic Winds Blow
Utqiagvik, Alaska, December 2022
Approaching winter solstice, I took a 20-day walk in the Last Frontier, with flights helping me reach Anchorage, Fairbanks, and eventually "top of the world" – Utqiagvik (formerly known as Barrow).
My eyes were wide open as I "explored away." All my senses were activated. I had some of the most inspiring conversations in my life while also keeping thinking, asking new questions, reflecting, and documenting as I traveled further and further north. When both my body and my mind were extremely active, I felt I was living my life to the fullest.
The Timeless
The Whale Bone Arch and the boats all tell stories –– stories of the Iñupiat Peoples living on these lands and waters since time immemorial. Early December seemed to be a relatively quiet time in Utqiagvik, as it was not yet the holiday season, and I was the only person standing at this prominent landmark of Utqiagvik, facing towards the Whale Bone Arch and the Arctic Ocean in freezing winds. In that magical and calming tranquility, the Whale Bone Arch was like a gate through which I could see the rich history of this Iñupiat settlement. Hunters set sail, and after many days go by, they would bring back the whale to the community, and then celebration and sharing begin. In the deep snow brought to the shore by the Arctic winds, the bones and the boats were the epitome of timelessness, as the culture and the Iñupiat Peoples’ profound spiritual connections with land and waters have never changed for centuries.
That very moment and that exact place were the crossroads where day and night met and where past and future connected.
Town at Dawn and the Yellow Street Lights
Yellow street lights brighten the town in the Arctic darkness. The flatness of Utqiagvik makes the cable lines very prominent, as they along with the yellow street lights delineate the shape and layout of the town, symbolizing development and enhanced quality of life.
Bones
Some bones were lying in front of the Whale Bone Arch, and parts of them were buried under the deep snow.
Where the Arctic Winds Blow
The stripe showed where the winds were blowing. The horn right above the door of the house reflects the northern way of life.
Sail, Sail, to the North
Two days ago, it was nearly minus 30 degrees including wind chill. It was the only clear day and also the coldest day in this small town in Alaska, the northernmost settlement of the United States. There was no sunrise in the Arctic circle –– dusk chased dawn, followed by a long night. In front of me was the Arctic Ocean, the deep blue sky, and a silver moon. Tranquil like a borderless painting, like a dream.
Growing up by the seaside of Amoy, I had the impression that the sea was never static and there were always ebbs and flows, with the waves beating my legs. The sound of the waves was the background sound that could not be absent in my countless memories of my hometown. From the Tropic of Cancer to more than three hundred miles above the Arctic Circle, there were no more heat waves and palm trees, not even snow-covered spruces; only endless snow and ice and occasionally some prominent rocks. And broken ice floating on the almost static ocean. From where I stood to the north, there was no more land. It pointed straight to the North Pole, which I could not see with my naked eyes.
Man and The Frozen Ocean
A man was shoveling snow out of the truck by the Arctic Ocean. Humans have always been part of the environment. Especially in the far north, the Indigenous Peoples live in harmony with nature. They respect the animals that share the lands and waters with them, and there exist profound spiritual connections.
Egasak Street and the Arctic Ocean at Night
Asi, the Mayor of Utqiagvik, told me about how Utqiagvik is in the process of changing street names to Iñupiat ones. In 2016, the city changed its name from Barrow to Utqiaġvik, the latter of which is Iñupiat. This was a huge step towards preserving the Iñupiat language and culture.
In All This Remoteness, Walking on this Icy Road, I Find Peace
Alaska does remind me of Finland. Icy roads and sidewalks packed with very thick snow. Darkness, solitude. Extroverts may find loneliness in the Arctic, I find peace and self in a snowy and quiet world of the pristine. When I had no strings and ties, I was like a blank sheet of paper and willing to take on any path and try anything. I move forward without looking back. There’s only “something new” and the excitement that lies ahead, and no regrets or responsibilities.
I guess there's a flip side of losing everything or not having anything or being in adversity? You won’t be afraid, because everything is new and upward. Or, put another way, it’s the beauty of “starting over”, starting over in a completely new place? You grow and reflect about yourself the most in completely new settings. Starting over – or with even better phrasing – starting anew.
Snowmobiles and Town
A snowmobile was parked in an empty field, leaving two visible tracks on the snow. Snowmobiles are one of the things that embody the northern lifestyle. In Utqiagvik, you can see snowmobiles everywhere. Either someone driving it past you, or parked outside houses (along with other stuff – vehicles, tools, sometimes even a boat; Chastity said people in Utqiagvik are resourceful and don’t easily throw things away just in case they may need them, such as parts or something else. Anne said the same thing in Fairbanks when I asked why there was “so much random stuff” outside people’s houses buried in snow). It’s another important way to get around other than vehicles, and it’s also essential for subsistence hunting. Almost every time I walk by myself in town, I will first hear the loud sound of the snowmobile approaching, and then see someone racing a snowmobile across a frozen lagoon next to me, sometimes doing a very impressive jump as they accelerate up a slope. I remember when I got a ride from DWM, I asked the staff that drove me whether he hunts, and he said, “yes, caribou, but not as much as I should.” I then proceeded to ask how he gets out to the places where caribou lived, and he said happily, “snowmobiles!”
Horizon and Those Who Passed
Approaching winter solstice, 320 miles above the Arctic Circle, the sun never rises and dawn is directly followed by twilight. The silhouettes from afar defined one small section of the horizon of Utqiagvik from where I stood. A cemetery, with crosses as gravestones, and several whalebone arches. I have never seen whalebone arcs in other cemeteries. Those whalebone arches are of smaller sizes compared to the big Whalebone Arch on the Arctic Ocean coast. On the right are some houses. I remembered that part of town is called Browerville. Some people in Utqiagvik are lifelong hunters. Everyone hunts or at least knows someone who hunts. Hunting is deep in Iñupiat culture, and the Iñupiat Peoples respect the animals, with the bowhead whales as a prime example. Here, all species, including human beings, and the natural environment, are One and in harmony with each other since time immemorial.
Machines and Development. When I was facing the Arctic Ocean, I was standing between the Whale Bone Arch and this aerial lift, which was just a couple feet behind me.
The Silver Moon over the Ocean. When the night started to fall, moonlight lit up a distant point on the arctic ocean. It was divine. Peaceful. Deep and profound. Still and calm. Vast. Humbling.
Cargos. Cargos right next to the Whale Bone Arch, symbolizing industrial development and shipping and their co-existence with subsistence livelihoods.
Solitude as Canvas. There were several dwellings facing the Arctic Ocean. Other than the vehicles passing by, the streets in Utqiagvik were extremely quiet, as in deep winter, vehicles were the most essential means of transportation and an essential part of modern-day life in the north. South of the shoreline was human voices and settlements; north of the shoreline was complete solitude.
Through the Taxi Window (extracted from a video)
Views from the taxi’s window, captured in a short video taken by iPhone. Taxi rides to the interview sites were one of the most memorable things of my time in Utqiagvik, as I could see so many different parts of this Arctic settlement in such a short period of time. Everything was new; everything I saw excited and fascinated me. I saw the distant lights of the town as the taxi carried me away, and then the frozen, snow-covered protruding rocks on the side of the highway that bordered the Arctic Ocean. The road seemed endless as Arctic winters was dominated by the color white most of the time. The sky was extensive, nothing blocked my view on both sides, and the road stretched all the way towards the horizon.
He drove fast. The vehicle was quite loud, as it rushed northward along the cold, icy highway.
(Note: these two photos were added to this page in August 2023, when I was looking back to the albums in my phone and suddenly realized I not only documented the experience with my camera, but also in the form of photos and videos taken by iPhone in many settings, as it was not always convenient to take my camera out in a vehicle or walking in freezing winds. I am glad I thought about this.)
Chimney Smoke
When you barely see or pass by any pedestrians, the smokes coming out of the chimney is a symbol of life and warmth. It calmed me as I stood in the cold air, as I felt the families in those little houses are being warm and cozy, and it also conveys a sense of human connection, even though I often cannot see them.
Where Two Whale Bones Touch
I walked right under the Whale Bone Arch, and shot this picture of where two whale bones touched each other. Just like one generation passing their wisdom and knowledge to another, one elder inspiring a young hunter, and one individual touching another individual's soul. It may also symbolizes some sort of divine, spiritual connection between humans and whales and nature, of which I can yet fully understand or decipher.
Quyanaqpak. "In all things, give thanks."
USPS. Post Office in Utqiagvik. USPS is often one of the very few “chains” you can also see in remote towns in the North Slope as in more populated places in Alaska as well as the lower 48.
Being Resourceful. People in Utqiagvik don't throw things away easily in case they may need them later, so you could see a lot of "stuff" outside one's residence.
We, Love. A lot of large cans in Utqiagvik had positive messages painted on them.
Cash Economy. A take-out Mexican restaurant with green lights outside. Cash economy is also important in modern-day Utqiagvik, but subsistence is still fundamental to the Iñupiat Peoples and will always be here.
The Place We Eat. The food prices in Utqiagvik are very high, because everything needs to be shipped. However, the portion size is also the biggest you will ever get.
Full Moon and The Whale Bone Arch
I turned around from looking at the town, facing the direction of the Arctic Ocean. After a very short walk towards the coast, I saw the Whale Bone Arch, with the ribs of a boat right next to it. The sky over there was dark blue, in which a bright full moon was hanging. Below was the Arctic Ocean, covered by sea ice. Vast, still, tranquil, endless, stretching across the horizon.
Dawn
There was no sunrise, but the hues of the sky during the brighter hours were ever-changing and mesmerizing. Utqiagvik was unlike any other town that I have visited. It fascinated me but also humbled me.
Moon and the Arctic Ocean
No one was around me, and it was just the sky, the full moon, the ocean and the sea ice, the Whale Bone Arch, the big piles of snow; on the northeast, some big cargos, some simple houses, a snowmachine; on the southwest, some other houses, vehicles, and later on a man shoveling snow on a truck; behind me, the dawn, the town, highway, street lights, vehicles coming and going, quite busy. A forklift or something like that as well, for infrastructure / work / building stuff, I guess.
(cont’d) Seeing all these around me, I felt the collision but more so the harmony of all the things that what I saw embody – the far north, Nature, snow and ice, the Arctic Ocean, the pristine and tranquility, the beauty and the vastness; subsistence livelihood and whaling and going out on the ocean and waters to hunt, the kind of lifestyle and skills and knowledge that’s been passed down since time immemorial, the Peoples that came to this seemingly harsh and remote land, settled, and lived for centures in harmony with nature. Just as AlexAnna said, “People exist there for a reason,” and the wisdom and knowledge passed on are extremely inspiring; recent infrastructure/industrial development, with the new tools, machines, roads, vehicles, buildings, connection with the outside world, etc. They bring development but also some issues. At that very place, I felt all of these altogether at the same time. You see the change, the melting sea ice, the development, … and you put things in context. Utqiagvik has all of these, and analogies may be found elsewhere in the world (e.g. China, urbanization, western rural China, etc.). What’s the future? The world is ever-changing, and finding the best way forward is key. Utqiagvik has stories. I am excited to keep exploring.
Silhouettes
The road that I was facing is a major one along the Arctic Ocean Coast that connects different parts of the town loosely separated by several lagoons of different sizes. In Utqiagvik, the cab system is very different from what I am used to. There’s no Uber or Lyft, and you can only call the cab company fifteen to thirty minutes ahead of time to make sure you get a taxi on time to get to places, if you do not have a car. Sometimes the cab immediately pulls up, but in rare occasions, you might need to wait for a long time (one time I waited for almost an hour – however, this remote town in the far north has a very slow pace, so I understood, and also most of the times I only waited for less than ten minutes). The taxi drivers are very friendly. A phone of which the speaker is always on, is connected to the cab company call center where cabs are assigned. When you are on the taxi, you tell the driver where you are going, and the driver would talk loudly into the phone “going [place name]!” While in the cab, especially during busy hours, you are likely to hear the phone ringing and beeping and other people calling for cabs from the speaker telling them their pick-up locations, and the cab company call center responding, “coming!” You pay by cash at the end of one trip, and depending on the distance, it is usually between six to fourteen dollars, and the driver gives you change and says goodbye to you.
I suddenly think back to my time in China, especially in Lianjiang country, a more rural part of northern Fujian province. The village of Tuoshi, where my mom was born and raised, heavily reliant on agriculture, is surrounded by beautiful green mountains and rice farms. It does not have a cab system, only buses going to downtown Lianjiang once twenty to forty minutes. I loved those comfy buses traveling among mountains, to a town with delicious delicacies, smiley food vendors that my mom might also know personally, and people who speak with her in a dialect that I barely understand as someone growing up in a coastal city to the south of the province. When in downtown Lianjiang, I don’t like motor vehicles. I loved those “三轮车” (Tricycles) as a child – every day to Lianjiang would be incomplete if I did not take a tricycle trip. Each trip was around five Chinese yuan – also depends on distance – which is less than a dollar value. And my mom is great at bargaining with the riders and getting a lower price. I haven’t been back in many years and don’t know whether they still exist, but I vividly remember the utmost happiness I experienced in those open-air seats and the rider paddling the wobbling tricycle across town, passing food markets, shops, crowds. My curious eyes were always wide open, feeling the soft breezes touching my cheeks.
highly amateur visual work in progress; first time making a video.
Land Acknowledgement: These photos were taken in Utqiagvik, Alaska, part of the unceded territories of the Iñupiat Peoples. I acknowledge that Iñupiat Peoples have been stewards of the land featured in this photojournal component of the project since time immemorial, and has given the land incredible care. I am grateful for the profound knowledge, stories, experiences, perspectives, and inspirations that the Iñupiat Peoples have shared with me during my one-week visit in December, 2022. Credits to the perspectives, ideas, and Indigenous and local knowledge that all the leaders, experts, scientists, and community members shared with me will be given more formally in writings.
Acknowledgement: this fieldwork in Alaska was supported by Dartmouth College and the Stamps Foundation.