Bringing home the whale, part 3: A boy becomes a man - throws the harpoon, carries the flag; whale is cut, divided

Before last year, Tavvin Leavitt and his brothers had gone whaling every year with their grandfather, Jacob Adams, one of the most respected and successful captains in Barrow. Last year, Tavvin's mother, Lucy Leavitt, decided to start a crew of her own. She knew her father had taught her sons well and she knew they could do it. Also, it would be a good way to help teach them how life moves and the whale survives and remains strong even in the wake of tragedy, as they had lost their father and she her husband.

Lucy organized the new Pamiilaq crew. Last year, Pamiilaaq came close a few times but never quite made it to a whale.

This year, after the Savik Crew had helped tow in the Payuuraq whale and had brought their boat to shore, I went to the landing site, where Poe Brower and crew were just beginning to cut up and divide their whale. I took a few pictures, then heard that the Patkotak and Pamiilaq crews were nearing the landing site with their respective whales.

I walked up the beach and soon saw Tavvin, coming down the beach, carrying the flag he would carry to Barrow to symbolically tell the community of his crew's first success. I thought it special for this boy that he had been given the honor to carry the flag.

In fact, I would later learn Tavvin had done much more.  At 16, he was the man who threw the harpoon. Tavvin is a harpooner.

Lucy had not gone out in her boat with her sons and other crew members, including their great uncles, Billy Adams and Don Leavitt, well-seasoned hunters with decades of experience, but had been at her job at the North Slope Borough when her father Jacob called her to tell her the news. She was excited. She was grateful. Through the radio, she joined the crew as they offered a prayer of thanks on the boat.

In the spring, when whale camps and landing sites are established several miles offshore along the lead in the ice, whales are pulled up by people power - men and women pulling for hours, sometimes all day, on ropes attached to the whale with a block and tackle system.

In the fall, big Caterpillar tractors are used to the pull the whale up. It did not take long at all to pull the Pamiilaq whale out of the ocean. Once it was up, a fork lift carried it to the cutting site.

Lucy Leavitt with the crew she sent into the ocean - all family. The whales are brought to an old US Air Force airstrip built as part of the Distant Early Warning system built in the 1950's to detect any Soviet missiles that were never launched. The site is about five miles north of the city of Barrow along the route to Point Barrow.

As Iñupiaq tradition teaches, Pamiilaq crew would give the entire whale away to the other crews who had registered to hunt this season - and through them to the entire community and beyond. "It teaches them to share," she said of the tradition and her children.

The first instance of this sharing would come the very next day, when, as would the Payuuraq and Patkotak crews, Lucy and her family would feed the community. This will be the subject of the final post in this series - part 4, which I plan to put up tomorrow.

Now I back up a bit in time, to just after the Payuuraq whale had been brought ashore. Captain Poe Brower stands to the left. Jamie Tuckfield, who harpooned along with Qaiyaan, shares a hug with Percy Nusuningya - also a whaling captain.

Now I back up even a couple of days before, to just after the crew of Henry Kignak brought in their whale, with help on the towline from Savik boat and several others. I did not stay for long, as dinner awaited us at Savik's house and we planned to gather at 5:00 AM the next morning to go out again and I hoped I might get a little rest first. I was there just long enough to witness the children, exploring the whale, getting their first lessons in bowhead biology, taking an eyeball to eyeball look.

In preparation for the cutting of the Payuuraq whale landed by her brother, Jana Harcharek hands some knives to Qaiyaan.

Captain Poe makes the first cut. The cameraman opposite me is Dustinn Craig, Apache-Navajo, son of the late Vincent Craig, my best friend from the early days of our marriage, when Margie and I lived on her White Mountain Apache Tribe reservation.

Qaiyaan Leavitt, Lucy's 18 year-old son, drove the Pamiilaq boat and so had the honor of making the first cut. His grandfather, Jacob Adams, who taught him to whale, stands just behind him to the right, in the baseball cap. His mother is also behind him. She would make the second cut.

Cutting the Payuuraq whale.

The reknowned whaling captain, Simeon Patkotak, retired now. "All the glory goes to God," he proclaims after removing his hat. "Thank you, Lord!"

Dragging maktak from the Payuuraq whale.

It is hard, grimy, work, but at every whale landing I have been too, the kind of happiness you see here has dominated the faces in front of me. As the whale is butchered, the maktak, meat and all parts are taken to different locations according to how it will be divided up and shared among all the crews and all those others who have come to help in the work.

George Edwardson, sharpening knives for the butchering of the Payuuraq whale. George is a life-long hunter but has experienced health problems in recent years. His wife Debby was worried he would overdo it. She wanted to take him home so he could rest.

"Just one more!" George said. He sharpened another knife.

"Let's go home now," Debby said.

"Just one more!" he said again. George sharpened another knife.

Debby was getting anxious.

"Just one more!" he insisted. He sharpened another knife.

"I'm going to take you home now!" Debby insisted.

Finally, George relented and went home with a smile upon his face, knowing that even if he could not be in a boat, he had helped helped to feed his community.

Baleen, which the whales use to strain their zooplankton food from the water, is the only part of the bowhead that by law can be sold. It can be sold to non-Natives only after it has been made into art or craft work, ranging from scrimshaw to finely-woven baskets, minature sailing ships, jewelry, or whatever is created from the mind of the artist.

Jamie Smith cooks maktak from the Payuuraq whale into uunaalik to feed all who help. The traditional-design tattoo on her chin is the one done by Maori artist Mitch Hughes of New Zealand, as told in Part 2.

Sally Brower, mother of Captain Poe Brower, pours a cup of coffee for me. As told in Part 2, Sally and grandson Qaiyaan had visited in Anchorage where she now lives just a few days before. She had informed Qaiyaan she would be coming to town on Wednesday and had told him he could cook a whale for her that day.

Now it is Wednesday. Sally has just come back to town, uunaalik is being cooked.

The skull of the Payuuraq whale, as the cutting and dividing nears completion. The two individuals taking notes are biologists, working with the North Slope Borough Department of Wildlife management. The bowhead is a thoroughly studied whale.

It has also been the subject of a census program spanning over 30 years. The population of the Western Arctic is about 11,000 and growing. The quota of allowed strikes is calculated and regulated to ensure the bowhead population continues to grow.

Full series index:

Preview to Barrow fall whaling story: Early morning with Savik Crew on the Beaufort

Bringing the fall whale home, part 1: The hunt

Bringing home the whale, part 2: Tattoo of whale tails created in honor of ancestor taken by museum; three whales are brought home

Bringing home the whale, part 3: A boy becomes a man - throws the harpoon, carries the flag; whale is cut, divided

Bringing the fall whale home, part 4: The community gets fed

Comments

[debby]

That Debby sounds like a sensible woman. I like that.

[Mrs Gunka]

Indeed you are Debby. Thank you.