Every Coastal Eskimo knows what that means. Busy, Busy, Busy. And Bugs, Bugs, Bugs. And pack ice.
Ahhhh, the smell of the ocean breeze. The feel of the spray of water hitting your face in the boat. Brings me back to childhood every time.
Luckily, my 14 year old son is able to experience that too. This weekend, he and the family and friends went Ugruk hunting. A quick jaunt to the pack ice and they came back with two.
Two huge ones, with great hides. The first one I got was an old bull. He had apparently been in some fights, because he was all beat up. Bruises filled his blubber, we had to get cut a lot of it out.
But that's life, I guess.
My meat is hanging, my arms are dead from cutting and cutting and cutting. Two other families are blessed with the first catch of the 14 and 15 yr old boys and life is great above the Arctic Circle.
That is, until you come back to town and see the Mosquito problem.
Hello Deet, where are you now!?
My Ulu and knives were all made by my father, grandfather, son or husband. Don't forget to check out Siksu's Knives on FACEBOOK or THE WEB