The last piece of ice: in the northernmost part of Alaska

Article source: Memorabilia Biography | Others (ID: tazhe-others)

The Arctic Ocean is devouring Inuit villages.

Text | Dahr Jamail, figure | Patrick Endres, information

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July 28th, 20 17, the gray sea water appeared and disappeared in the fog, the waves gently beat the gravel beach, and the seagulls disappeared into the fog and cried. A figure appeared on the beach in the distance and disappeared as he walked. On the morning when I walked along the coast of the Arctic Ocean, everything was unpredictable. The only certainty is the land under my feet. Every step I take, the sand breaks. In this place, which is 0/300 miles away from the North Pole/Kloc-,under the extreme sunlight, time flows wantonly until it loses its meaning.

The fog gradually dispersed, the wind blew the low clouds to the west, and the tundra was dyed brown-green. Scattered light shines on the earth from time to time. This is an eternal and strange world.

Gloomy Ucavik

Utqiagvik, named Barro 20 16 years ago, is one of the few villages here. It is very old and the northernmost part of the United States. The indigenous Inupiat here know how to live with whales, birds and ice floes in the gap between the tundra and Wang Yang. The exact meaning of Utchavik is controversial, but there is a sign on the former ruins of this village, which reads: "Snow Owl Hunting Ground." It is estimated that people lived here 1500-4000 years ago. The sign also says that local people also hunt bowhead whales, which is also a symbol of this village. Similar to other indigenous cultures, hunting and gathering are the key for Inuit to connect with friends, families and tribes, and are also the basis of their traditional beliefs.

The ruins are in the west of the village, and the appearance of the thatched cottage is still discernible, but some of them have disappeared into the sea. Together with them, Wang Yang's ice and part of the coastline disappeared in summer. Climate change is clearly visible here, and it is far more serious than most people think.

In the northernmost part of Alaska

In the northernmost part of Alaska

Most of the passengers flying with me to Ucal Vic are oilfield workers, and they will get off at Prudhoe Bay, our first stop. These people stare at their mobile phones, but only one of them is white. Many people wear hats, and most of them need a shave and a haircut. They followed the money north, at least now the money is still there. If it weren't for oil, most of them would never have set foot where we were going. There is nothing there, too empty, too beautiful and too quiet.

The plane took off and I stared at my beloved Alaska through the porthole.

Not far from the south of fairbanks, we flew over a smoky wildfire, and the ground below was burning.

After we landed in Prudhoe Bay, most passengers got off the boat. Near the horizon in the north of the airport, warehouses are flashing, and some large buildings of oil companies are covered with brown smoke. To the west of the airport is the trans-Alaska pipeline, from which it will cross the long Alaskan wilderness, bring oil to the south, and then transport it to other parts of the world and burn it in other places.

After a short stay, we continued to fly to Ucavik. I overlooked the dirt road parallel to the oil pipeline from the air and cut the fragile green tundra. Further north, the light brown water in Beaufort Sea soon turns blue. As far as I can see, I can't see any ice, even at an altitude of 30 thousand feet, on a very obvious day in July.

Useless berm

Useless dam

On the coast of Utchavik, a large loader truck is busy maintaining mud dams, which are blocked between the northern edge of the village and the increasingly turbulent sea. The motor roared, black smoke came out from its top, and it scooped up a spoonful from a pile of sand-it was transported from inland 1/3 miles to build a dike. Operating loaders to maintain dams is a full-time job for Inuit here.

The shoal between the Arctic Ocean and Ucal Vic.

One evening, I was walking along the coast, and a big wave caused by a storm at sea went straight to the beach, and the 25-foot-high embankment was smashed a lot. In this way, the seawater was sprayed into the air together with the dark brown soil that had just been used to build the embankment. When the waves return to the shallow sea of Chukchi Sea, they also carry a lot of sediment. Bags of sand are shipped from the inland to prevent the Chukchi Sea from invading the village endlessly. On the other side of the beach are rows of huge rusty tin cans, which are the relics of people who resisted the sea in the past.

The first row of houses in the village is only about 50 feet away from the embankment, and not far behind are the government building, police station and tribal office. Near the seaside, south 100 yards, it is the only dirt road here, separating the cliff-like embankment and the waves washing it from the village.

Inuit memory

Inuit memory

Richard Taalak, also known as Taaqpak, is a 67-year-old Inuit and a native of Uchavik. Like many old people here, he is very aware of climate change. The weather was completely different when they were young. "In the past few weeks, it was 45-50 degrees below zero," he told me when he made a traditional ulu with ivory handles in his studio. "Now it's only MINUS 20 or 30 degrees in two weeks."

The studio was crowded with aborigines, and the smell of bone smoke, coffee and cigarettes was mixed. They carved polar bears, knives or other traditional utensils from ivory fossils or weathered shells. Taaqpak said that it was frozen in June, 65438+ 10, and it can only be seen in June10. On the day I chatted with Taaqpak, a Finnish icebreaker set a record in the Northwest Passage. It started from Vancouver and arrived in Nuuk, the capital of Greenland, at the fastest speed ever. It was July 29th, never so early.

Taaqpak's friend Perry Matumak lives in the elderly center next to the studio, and he is busy dealing with weathered shells most of the day. Perry told me that he never looked forward to August, because it would snow at that time, which indicated the end of summer. But now, it began to snow in June of 5438+00. They have never had such a warm summer. "In the past, we could see sea ice from home in summer, but now there is nothing. The ice is too small. " He polished a whale bone. "Our hunting habits have also changed. Just three days ago, we hunted a grizzly bear at the seaside 18 miles from here. This should not happen. "

When the fog cleared, Ucavik looked quite charming.

It's another calm day, sunny and sunny. There were so many mosquitoes in the studio that Perry found someone to set up a mosquito net. "It used to be windy," he said. Taaqpak came, adding that in the good old days, they could even see snow in July. "Now they can't see it."

We chatted for a while, then Taaqpak went on to make the Ulu Dao, and Perry focused on his shells again. When I walked out of the studio, sadness came. These friendly, warm and elegant people and their culture will not last long here.

I met Cindy Shults at KBRW Studio in Utcharvik. This is "the northernmost radio station in the world". She is the director here. Like everyone else, she has many stories about Utchavic's past. She has lived here for 4 1 year. Just two weeks ago, lightning and thunder were very rare. "Everyone ran outside to see it," she said with a smile. "I told them to hurry back to the house to avoid becoming a human lightning rod. Most of the aborigines here have never seen lightning and have no concept at all. " She remembers 10 years ago, it was raining at 20℃ almost every day for two weeks. "Because of the high humidity, Utchavic feels 30 degrees Celsius at 20 degrees Celsius," she said. "No one here denies climate change, and it changes so quickly and violently." Schultz told me that the basketball court where she played as a child was near the Bingo Casino at the foot of the mountain, and now it is the sea.

Inuit people may have to move out of their homes because of climate change.

Schultz and her husband also run a photo tour group, leading birdwatchers to beaches and tundra. She told me that they can "of course" find more and more birds, and their arrival and departure dates are changing. Zeke Bai Niao came early. She noticed this sparrow. It wasn't on the bird-watching list. Red breasts are quite common in Anchorage, Alaska's largest city? It also appears in Utchavik, although "they shouldn't be here". So is the gray-backed falcon. In the past, they only flew north of fairbanks. She also met a hummingbird that once flew north to Anchorage.

The search and rescue station is also the social center of the village, where aborigines come in and out and exchange stories with coffee. Some people are playing cards, others are watching TV. I met Marvin Kana Julak, 55, whose parents were born and raised here. He is a whaler and a volunteer of the search and rescue team. He told me that there used to be an ice shelf here, which could be fifty or sixty feet high in winter. Now, if you are lucky, you can find a 20-foot one. It used to take them two weeks to reach the unfrozen waters in spring, but now a few days are enough.

"There used to be three layers of flowing ice, and you could hear the cracks and explosions caused by the movement of ice," Kanayurak said. "There is no ice flowing now, and you can't see it in autumn." An old watch repairman sat by the fire with us. He asked me to come back in June at 5438+ 10. From here, you can see the unfrozen waters, and the coastal seawater is mixed with sediment.

There are countless stories about drastic climate change. There used to be polar bears on the beach here, but now there aren't any. Less ice means more open water. When the wind blows, big waves can be set off here, which increases the difficulty of whaling. Because the new ship now replaces 65,438+08 feet with a 22-26 foot long ship to cope with the fiercer sea. Thin ice also prevents them from catching big whales. When whales are dragged out of the water for slaughter, the maximum size that thin ice can carry is 35 feet long.

An Inuit woman who cuts whale meat with a Ulu knife.

Another afternoon, I met Perry who was walking on the beach. He gave me a big smile and greeted me warmly, just like every time he saw me. "God, it's so hot today," he said, fanning his fan with his hand. At this time, the temperature is 20℃ and the sea surface is very calm, which is very rare, or it was very rare in the past.

I kept walking. In the north, thunderstorm clouds and solar rain lurk on the horizon, and three children are playing in the shallow water by the sea. This can constitute photos taken on many tropical beaches.

Melting permafrost

Melting of ice sheet

Kanayurak told me that he was also a volunteer grave digger. The ice here used to be 10 to 12 inches thick, and it took him three days to break the ice. Now the tundra is only a few feet thick and softer, so it only takes 5 hours or less to dig a grave.

When I was in Utchavik, I talked with Vladimir Romanovsky, a professor of geophysics at the University of Alaska at fairbanks. He is devoted to the study of tundra, and his laboratory collects temperature data from all over the world every year, mainly in Alaska, Canada and Russia. He confirmed to me that the dissolution rate of the Ucavik tundra is amazing.

It is worrying that thawing tundra will sink the earth. Coastal villages like Utchavik scattered in Alaska and northern Siberia are already in danger of rising sea level. They will face a great test together. Five years ago, considering the relocation of 65,438+07 villages, Romanovsky thinks that the number is higher now. "They should act now, and their countermeasures can't keep up with the pace of change. This is a big problem. They have no money yet, and it will cost a lot of money to deal with it. Five or seven villages are now in a state of emergency. " In the Arctic Circle, including Alaska, a lot of money has been spent to build dams, but this battle with thawed tundra and rising sea level is doomed to failure.

The ice that Inuit people see now can't be compared with the past, and the climate change is very obvious here.

Kevin Schaefer, a researcher at NSIDC, the National Snow and Ice Data Center, is also worried about the impact of tundra thawing on indigenous culture in the Arctic Circle: "Thawing will have a huge impact on Alaska's lifestyle and environment, and the social problems caused by it are unimaginable." When I asked him if he thought it necessary to relocate most (if not all) coastal villages in northern Alaska, he thought, "Thawing will probably destroy a lot of infrastructure, which will force people to relocate, probably including the whole village. If your village is near the sea, you must move when the sea of ice begins to melt. This is true of the indigenous villages along the river in the interior of Alaska, as well as in the Arctic Circle. "

Roads, railways, oil and gas factories, airports, ports, etc. Are based on the premise that the tundra will not melt. "The tundra is very strong when it freezes, but it will turn into mud after melting, which is easy to cause damage to buildings." Schaefer said that in his report to the United Nations, he strongly advised countries with large tundra to plan ahead. "If you don't plan, the cost of reconstruction will be high when things happen." Disturbingly, the tundra continues to melt rapidly.

Prophecy of Inuit ancestors

The language of Inuit ancestors

On my last day in Utchavik, the lead cloud hung low. Everyone I talked to in the village suggested that I talk to Wesley Aiken, a 92-year-old village elder. I went back to the search and rescue center building. He cut his hair in the back room and then walked slowly to the main room. He wore a blue jacket and smiled with a cane; I can see his deep crow's feet through thick black-rimmed glasses.

Compared with his childhood 1920s, everything has changed. At that time, about 500 Inuit lived in Ucavik. They went hunting with dogs and sledges and basically lived a traditional life. There are no planes, no cell phones and no snowmobiles here. Winter is much colder than now, and summer is quite short. "All the ice is melting," he said, and then looked at me to show the weight of this sentence. He speaks very slowly. In his previous world, nothing was urgent. "When I was a child, there was ice in summer. Now the sea is devouring the coast, and the waves are getting bigger and bigger, sweeping everything. I don't think we will have PointBarrow for long. " He said the northernmost part of the coastline, not far from the east of the main village.

Aiken regards ice as life. Without it, everything is no longer normal, and the most important thing is that you can't hunt. "Now, we have no life in the Arctic Ocean," he said, referring to the thinner and thinner ice. "There is only some new ice in winter. There was ice in the past July, which was closer to us. It is all ice near the coastline, so it is impossible to sail. Even in summer, the wind blows from the west and the shore is full of ice. "

Later that day, I got news that hundreds of walruses swam out of the Chukchi Sea to look for ice on land, but just two years ago, more than 30,000 walruses did so, which warned scientists and locals. "We no longer rely on walruses. There is not enough ice here. " Aiken said, "We seldom see them again. They can't find ice here, so they go somewhere else. Sometimes we hear about them from other places, sometimes on remote islands. Here we will find some trapped seals, as well as polar bears. "

Seals trapped on the runway of Utchavik airport

He told me that the tundra was melting. "I can see the green grass on the tundra," he pointed out of the window. "There are more and more grasses there."

He told the scientists' research conclusions with his own life experience. "Everything has changed, and people from mainland America or other parts of the world are very worried about us. We're not worried ourselves. We know everything is happening. What our ancestors told us, they already know. I don't know how they know, but they just know. I believe what they say. Then everything really happened as they said. Now I know that everything is like this and will not stop. "

While in Utchavik, I decided to walk along the coastline to the intersection of Chukchi Sea and Beaufort Sea. I walked for five hours and couldn't stop, collecting weird green or brown transparent sea glass while walking. I think about how it will end, it is too late, the struggle we are about to face, how to stop or mitigate climate change, and how meaningless everything we do. On a mild summer day, I stared at the calm Arctic Ocean, thinking that methane released by melting permafrost was seeping into the atmosphere.

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