Eskimo Games

One of the great things about the Inupiat is their friendliness, humor and genuine love of having fun. They have a great way of making outsiders feel welcome at community events, even if the welcome usually only goes as far as the public events. Even without our pale white skin and fast-talking ways, the tight-knit community would know we were outsiders because everyone here is family.

I don’t fault them for their limited openness after countless outsiders coming to the arctic for a few months or even a few years to study, photograph and otherwise exploit the culture, the land and the rare riches of this indigenous people. Maybe they know they have limits to their invitations, so they make sure to give ample and genuine welcome and congeniality when the time is appropriate. The Eskimo Games the week between Christmas and New Year’s Day are one of those times, and the community welcomed our participation with open arms...and a few outstretched middle fingers, but I'll explain that later. We had a lot of fun being there.

The kids’ games were in the mornings and included such classics as running races and crab-crawl races along with traditional Eskimo games like the one and two-footed high kick. They organized the events, both for kids and adults, by age, but by the time it got to Luke’s age group (one-year-olds), each day’s event had morphed into running races. Didn’t bother Luke, and since the crab-crawl became the regular crawl for ages three and four, and the regular crawl races became some crawl, some run, some just sit there for the two-year-olds, the just get across the line races were perfect for Luke and his one-year-old pals.

The adult games were in the evenings, with different events each night. So as not to get too personal, the adult age brackets were in five-year increments. Unfortunately, with all the excitement during that week, we only made it to one night’s games—the arm pull and the middle finger pull. Both of these games, like many Eskimo pasttimes, can be played in limited space like that afforded in a cozy igloo when it's 31 below like it is today.

I hate that we missed the high kick night, because it’s an amazing event where participants stand, jump and kick a ball hanging from a string and then land again in the same spot. “So?” you say, well with the one-footed high kick (where you land on the same foot as you kick the ball) competitors get upwards of 8 feet, and sometimes much higher. Pretty amazing for a people not known for their height. Not that I would’ve had a chance in that event since what little flexibility I may have had before has been missing for some time. I’m just lucky my boots slide on and off.

Pictures (and now videos too!) explain it better than words, so enjoy.



Everyone enjoyed the first night of Eskimo dances, but only Luke and Lisa braved the floor. Go Lisa!


Luke loves the drums...


and the stomping.


This little man wanted to take his drum and go home.


The next day was the running races. On your marks...


It took the one-year-old bracket a while to catch on that first day.


See what we mean. Mayhem. Some kids got it, but Luke was still a bit awestruck.


The next day he listened more closely to his coach...


But his buddy James had the speed to win.


Yes, we're those proud parents who share everything. Check out the video of the second race...

Luke was in it for third until James bolted back toward the starting line. Luke promptly followed. James decided to split toward the stands, but the determined Luke charged on all the way to the finish line, uh, I mean, starting line. It was a good effort by all, and way fun.


The evening games were for us, and Layla thought the "middle finger pull" was going to be easy. A few seconds into this match with Doreen, I believe the line was, "I could do this forever."


Then Doreen busted the Eskimo experience on her.


Layla did get third in the finger pull after loosing a close match to our friend Aurah from Juneau who was visiting with her fiance, Mike, another of our close friends from Juneau.


I managed to actually get second place in my age bracket. Can you guess who got first?






The locals are never too old to have some fun. They even brought out the chairs for the septagenarians.


The finger pull was hard, but the arm pull was real hard.


Or friend, Mike, bested me in the arm pull...


...but met his match a few rounds later.


He still placed second and got $10, a bruised hand and a real sore arm for his efforts. Not bad for getting off the plane just minutes before the competition. Cash money to the winners: $15 for first, $10 for second, and $5 for third.

All in all, each of the four of our crew, Mike, Aurah, Layla and I all brought home some cash that night. Watching the 18-25 and 25-30 brackets made me realize how it sometimes pays to be old. Those kids were strong. Winners or not, we had a lot of fun, and even had some fans in the crowd. As we left, a couple people mentioned how they enjoyed watching us compete. I'm not sure I would've risked my ability to walk by competing in the high kicks, but I did want to watch. But believe it or not, we were just too busy and too tired from a full day that day to make it. Guess I'll have to wait until next year.

Fun with what you have

In the lead up to the holiday season, we realized the real impact of not having some things in Barrow that we took for granted in other places—like trees. Barrow is 330 miles north of the Arctic Circle, and the closest tree is probably closer to there than here. So if we wanted to cut our own, it would be a really long walk across the blustery tundra to get it since there are no roads in or out of Barrow. So what to do? Hanging ornaments on the Christmas tundra didn’t quite seem the same. Artificial trees are all made with lead and PVC, both of which are toxic to the touch, especially for curious toddlers. That and the $189 price tag for the tree at the Stuaqpak gave us ample excuse not to go either of the usual tree routes. But what is Christmas without a tree? And what were we going to do about getting one?

This was our first Christmas together as a family at our own house, and we wanted to make it special. One night, the Alaskan ingenuity hit us like a blast of icy spindrift. We would make our tree. After almost losing the motivation by jumping on a last minute dog sled trip, we rallied and began to assemble the necessary ingredients:

1 ratty yellow broomstick
12 metal coat hangers
1 Moose’s Tooth beer growler partially filled with Luke’s college savings coins.
1 New York Times International Edition fresh to the arctic from South Africa
15 or so feet of duct tape (this is an Alaskan project after all)
even more masking tape
1 green crayon
1 brown crayon (and many other colors to taste)
mamboes (markers)
2 sheets paper

The plan had changed from cardboard to paper mache and then changed again a few times once we began. Luke loved the winning idea, especially once we got to the coloring and taping stages. He got his own vice grips to help cut and bend the coat hangers, but after prepping only a couple hangers, he waved me the “all finished sign” and began looking for more exciting projects of his own. But once the broomstick was upright in the jar of coins and the first hangers made their way onto the trunk, he was back in the spirit.

He and I colored, taped and retaped all afternoon while Layla baked, mixed, baked and baked some more. My box of Snickers had sat untouched above our cabinets for, well, a long time, waiting for me to eat them. I really only like Snickers when I’m on a long hike or otherwise exerting myself outdoors, and I must say I’ve done a lot less of that since we moved to Barrow. I’m not sure how the shelf life of a Snickers compares to that of a Twinkie, but Layla didn’t want to find out. Snickers cookies, Snickers brownies, Snickers pie—if you could bake it with a Snickers, she baked it. It was a family craft day worthy of a ‘50’s sitcom, and that was just the morning.

Luke and I had just a few more branches to go by the time the first batch of Snickers brownies came out of the oven, and he gave his last ounce of energy to coloring the star for the top before taking a nap. Then our neighbor called. They were building a “snow house,” better known to southerners (which from here is all of you) as an igloo, and they wanted to know if we wanted to help. “Of course I do!” I thought in the spirit of the day. One thing we had more of than Snickers was snow, so hot cookies in hand, out I went.

A few days earlier it was 42 degrees—below zero, but today it had warmed back to zero and the wind was soft. I had been a bit delayed leaving the house, something to do with fresh cookies and brownies, and by the time I arrived the rest of the crew was already in a groove.

Craig was sawing blocks of snow from a snow bank with a chainsaw. His sons, Luke and Sam, were hauling them into a rough circle around Chris Finkler, the wife of Barrow’s famous radio personality, Earl Finkler who keeps the airwaves alive on KBRW every morning while the rest of us stumble to find the coffee. The rest of Alaska knows Earl as the funny writer whose Andy Rooney type expositions, often about his beloved dogs, occasionally end Alaska News Nightly on Alaska public radio. Thanks to Earl and Chris for these photos of the snow house construction.

Chris was leveling the snow and marking the perimeter of the house, both of which I would later find out make a difference as you stack the blocks in an inward-leaning spiral to make the self-supporting house. We worked for a couple of hours, sawing, hauling and stacking blocks. When the house got about waist-high, we took a break, then began again after some hot chocolate…and a few more Snickers brownies.

A snowy owl perched on a nearby telephone pole to survey our work, and once satisfied with our work, flew off to hunt whatever crazy critters are left on the North Slope this time of year. Craig and I worked from the inside shaping and stacking blocks one at a time. Luke hauled blocks and handed them in to us, and Chris began chinking the gaps along the walls. When the walls got to high to pass the 20-30 pound blocks over them, Luke dug a tunnel that would become the entrance to the house and passed them through to us.

All in all, it took us about four or five hours, and the house will hold four or five folks comfortably. OK, so comfortable is relative, but inside the house was noticeably warmer than outside, even before all of the cracks were chinked. With a house that size, it takes a few people, or a nice lantern, to really warm the inside, and even then, it's no hanging in your briefs kind of climate. Haven’t slept in it yet, but one of these nights I just might. UPDATE: We made the local weekly paper, thanks to Earl. Click here and go to page 8 to read about the snow house.

As I chewed my second antacid before bed later that night, I couldn’t help thinking of all the brownies and other Snickers-related sugar I had eaten that day. But as the heartburn subsided I felt this great pride in our having made such a great day from scratch. In other places I guess we could’ve just bought a tree, popped a tent a scarfed down a bag of Oreos. The heartburn would’ve been the same, but not the memories.

Since that day, neighbors and guests have enjoyed our tree, the Snickers goodies and the snow house. The Snickers treats are all gone, and despite Luke’s great joy in having us turn on the Christmas tree lights, we’ll soon have to take it down. But as far as I know, the snow house is still waiting for its first overnight guests. With summer thaw still five months away, I have plenty of time to find the motivation. But one thing is for sure, I’ll need a fresh batch of brownies to take with me when I go.