FAIRBANKS — The group of Alaska Natives sat in a circle inside the log hall and recounted the signs of climate change they’ve seen in their corners of the state.
There was no snow on the ground until November in Hooper Bay last year. Only ice, said Gladys Hale-Abraham, which provided broken bones for the elderly or young children who took tumbles on the frozen paths. Beverly Hugo, of Barrow, was laid up over last winter with a broken ankle from a slip and fall after unusual winter rains turned walkways to ice. More alarming to her is the melting sea ice that is making it harder for whale hunters to find good trails to hunting grounds and to land a harpooned whale safely after harvesting, she said.
Anges Rivers said the Yukon River salmon she cut up last summer in Mountain Village was loaded with parasites. Others in the circle said the meat from moose and caribou would turn sour faster than usual because fall hunting seasons have been warm.
This year, sea otters gorged themselves on herring roe when the fish arrived a month early in Sitka, Peter Williams said.
In Nabesna, the birds and frogs don’t sing like they used to, Wilson Justin said. Thats because the birds aren’t returning from their southern homes, and the frogs have disappeared.
For this group, climate change isn’t a possibility.
“It’s a done deal,” said Justin, an Ahtna Athabascan elder.
The discussion was part of the Signs of the Land Camp II, sponsored by the Association of Interior Native Educators, the International Arctic Research Center from the University of Alaska Fairbanks and Columbia University, under the Polar Learning and Responding Climate Change Education Partnership. The purpose of the camp, which was held at the Howard Luke’s Gaalee’ya Camp near Fairbanks on the Tanana River, was to bring Alaska Natives and scientists together to compare notes on climate change. It was funded by the National Science Foundation.
A changing Earth
Climate change is the result of Earth’s warming atmosphere because of increased carbon dioxide. Carbon dioxide is one of the greenhouse gases that forms an insulating “blanket” in the atmosphere that helps regulate Earth’s temperature. However, too much carbon dioxide has been collecting since the massive use of fossil fuels, and there is no relief valve into space to bleed off the excess. Also, large swaths of forests, which use carbon dioxide and produce oxygen, are being cut down for industrial farming. Forest loss is having an impact.
The result is the “blanket” is thicker, keeping Earth’s atmosphere warmer. Now polar ice caps, the Earth’s natural air conditioning, are melting. Weather systems are changing, producing extreme weather conditions of early, hot springs, broiling summers and extreme winter storms. Carbon is mixing with ocean water and creating carbonic acid, changing the pH balance of the water and making it uninhabitable for the tiniest creatures of the food chain.
The Earth’s climate has always been changing. The difference now is that it is happening rapidly, over decades not millions of years. One bad storm doesn’t make climate change,” said Elena Sparrow, a soil microbiologist and the education outreach director at IARC and one of the camp’s conveners. “It’s the pattern of weather events over many decades.”
The Gwich’in people also spoke of this time of warming, said elder Trimble Gilbert, the Second Traditional Chief of the Athabascans, who attended the meeting. People will see strange wildlife and plants on the land, they said. Traditional foods will disappear. Others in the circle — Inupiat, Yupik and other tribes — said their elders had the same tale.
The Ahtna elders spoke of this time as the time of the “Two Suns” when the Earth will be twice as warm, Justin said. Others spoke of hope in light of the troubling news.
“Belle Deacon (of Anvik) said don’t panic,” said Sam Demientieff, an Deg Hit’an Athabascan elder at the camp. “People will survive.”
The luxury of convenience
Most of the camp participants stayed in tents at the camp, which is a 360-acre island in the midst of the Tanana River near Chena Ridge. It is part of the land of Chena Indians, now owned by elder Howard Luke. Decades ago, Luke began inviting people to stay on the land to find sobriety. In later years, groups came for education camps and the infrastructure grew: a meeting hall, cook and meal building, guest cabins and showers for a small community. The camp is powered by solar energy and a generator, if needed.
The camp participants have daily chores. Someone has to haul water or collect firewood. The fire always needs tending. The outhouses need a daily cleaning. Floors need to be swept.
The Signs of the Land Camp II was held mid-June this year. The sunlight never disappeared but the nights were chilly in a tent. The Tanana River appeared to be a busy highway as boaters zoomed up and down past the camp. Overhead, airplanes of every size passed by, their engine noises peppered by the air beating of the occasional helicopter’s blades.
“We have to live in a modern world,” Gilbert said, as he sat under the shade of a tall spruce tree, next to a fire pit where water was heating for washing dishes. Alaska’s villages are dependent on fossil fuel energy for electricity, hunting, fishing and outside supplies.
The camp environment is a significant place to learn. Elders easily share their life-long observations, stories and knowledge, while there is time to explore Western science concepts. Together, they lead to in-depth and critically needed discussions, said Malinda Chase, the director of AINE and co-lead on the camp.
The group’s conversations turned to how to adapt to the changes. It’s really a question of values, they agreed.
“Kilowatts in the village are used mostly for entertainment — social media, television and the internet,” Justin said.
Andrew Brown, Jr., of Mountain Village, unplugs his freezers in his outdoor sheds in the winter.
He also shops the discounted and mark down bins at the local grocery store.
He turns off his home’s heat tape when it isn’t needed.
“Why not use a box outside the house for a refrigerator sometimes?” he asks.
Native people always took advantage of Alaska’s cooling systems to store food, the camp elders noted. It may be time to relearn those skills, they said. Or start thinking of modern ways to adapt, such as using less fossil fuel energy by turning to solar or wind sources.
All camp participants said they would go back home and make personal changes, but also talk to others about climate change.
A few planned to have community meetings or talk to their councils. Many planned to have conversations with their families.
Others decided to make videos.
Some said they would take the message to social media.
“I’m just going to be annoying to everyone,” said Frank Pitka of Beaver. “I’m going to make phone calls to corporations and write letters.”
Just transitions
The Arctic is experiencing rapid climate change, said Jessica Brunacini, program manager of the PoLAR Partnership. However, what is apparent to those who live in the Arctic will soon become clear to the rest of the world.
This means groceries stores will not be as well-stocked as they are now due to crop failures and transportation costs. Potable water will become harder to come by because of drought.
People who will be affected the most will be the poorer people of the world as those with resources will likely stockpile.
This issue has been the topic of discussion for years among Native leaders and environmentalists, Justin said. The discussion needs to happen with a broader audience, he said.
Some Alaska communities are already addressing adaptation to climate change.
The Nome Eskimo Community, a tribal organization that provides services for Alaska Natives in the Nome area, is partnering with UAF’s Alaska Center for Climate Assessment and Policy to develop a climate adaptation plan for the Nome-based tribes. Through community meetings, tribal members in Nome have identified several climate-related concerns, such as impacts to food security, village infrastructure, and increased shipping. “Nome is one of many villages taking action,” said Nathan Kettle, a research associate with ACCAP, who discussed the project at the camp. “There are others.”
It is the Alaska Native way to prepare, the camp elders said. Leaders have always passed important knowledge on to the people.
“Now is the time to pack this up and lead,” Trimble Gilbert said. “Be the leader. There are a lot of helpless people.”
Diana Campbell is a Gwich’in/Alutiq local writer and a graduate student working on masters degree in communication at the University of Alaska Fairbanks. She was a participant in the camp.
