Thanks., I enjoyed it. Always lots to do, or at least I wasn't ever bored up there. Which is amusing to me since I remember being bored a lot after moving to larger cities. Perhaps that was just an age thing. The hunting really dried up once we left though, I haven't been able to hunt or go on hunts anywhere near as often as back then.
Growing up in the Canadian arctic
- Thread starter Griggs
- Start date
Thanks., I enjoyed it. Always lots to do, or at least I wasn't ever bored up there. Which is amusing to me since I remember being bored a lot after moving to larger cities. Perhaps that was just an age thing. The hunting really dried up once we left though, I haven't been able to hunt or go on hunts anywhere near as often as back then.
stillkickin
Well-known member
Great post Griggs!
I spent a summer working construction in some of the villages along the Yukon in the late 80’s. Went back to visit a few years back but was pretty bummed at the satellite dishes and modern conveniences that seems to be taking over our lives
Even in the 80’s life was much simpler
I spent a summer working construction in some of the villages along the Yukon in the late 80’s. Went back to visit a few years back but was pretty bummed at the satellite dishes and modern conveniences that seems to be taking over our lives
Even in the 80’s life was much simpler
Rzrbck918
Well-known member
Awesome photos and great story. Thanks.
Northwoods
Well-known member
Thanks for taking the time to share all of these photos! I really enjoyed them.
Took one of the rifles out before I left for work a couple of months ago. We used 3 different rifles primarily, and a .22 pistol for ptarmigan.
Remington 700 in .222 for rabbits and smaller game. And split between a Ruger 77 in .308 and a Savage 99 in .308 for musk ox and caribou. Later on there were other additions, but mainly those three.
I pulled the rifle out of its case and finally shot it again, hadn’t been fired in over a quarter century, still a blast to shoot, and still pretty close to zeroed for me.
Something about this rifle that I love.
Remington 700 in .222 for rabbits and smaller game. And split between a Ruger 77 in .308 and a Savage 99 in .308 for musk ox and caribou. Later on there were other additions, but mainly those three.
I pulled the rifle out of its case and finally shot it again, hadn’t been fired in over a quarter century, still a blast to shoot, and still pretty close to zeroed for me.
Something about this rifle that I love.
Also found this old DOPE card of my dad’s. He had no formal training, but still very similar to my DOPE cards which I thought was interesting. Although I assume that all of them invariably would be of similar structure by the very nature of its use...
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SaskHunter
Well-known member
Awesome thread and pictures!!!
Salmonchaser
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Outstanding story, thank you.
Thanks all, every once in a while run across more pictures we have. There's mountains of them, and since I made this thread to share them, whenever I run across more I'll post them here. My wife, of all people, born and raised in Phoenix, now wants to get a place up north for our vacation home, which I am all onboard for. Although all our friends tell us how vastly different it is there now, it's still a nice change of pace from AZ.
One of the batches of pups for our sled team.
Another view of our tent setup. The hides were super comfortable and warm, although that caribou smell never left them. I don't know what happened to the hides, we still have the parkas though. My mom still has her seal skin parkas, although she has no clue what to do with them....
Heading out for some ice fishing.
Tracks in the snow, as a kid I always thought raised tracks were magic.
Some old tools from the area. Still floating around my parents house, although this picture is somewhere around 30 years old.
One of the batches of pups for our sled team.
Another view of our tent setup. The hides were super comfortable and warm, although that caribou smell never left them. I don't know what happened to the hides, we still have the parkas though. My mom still has her seal skin parkas, although she has no clue what to do with them....
Heading out for some ice fishing.
Tracks in the snow, as a kid I always thought raised tracks were magic.
Some old tools from the area. Still floating around my parents house, although this picture is somewhere around 30 years old.
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Sorting through my pictures still, kills the quarantine time at work...
My Dad teaching me how to shoot.
Our school.
One of my Dads favorite flight memories that he often spoke of was a time when the pilot (not this one) was very clearly drunk. My father asked (mid flight) if he knew where he was headed, and he said "Ya, we're almost there, there's the light from town" To which my father responded "That light is Venus, you're trying to fly to Venus"
Whether or not the pilot was making a drunk joke, I'll never know. I was young, an that pilot is long since deceased. But we clearly made it to town.
My Dad teaching me how to shoot.
Our school.
One of my Dads favorite flight memories that he often spoke of was a time when the pilot (not this one) was very clearly drunk. My father asked (mid flight) if he knew where he was headed, and he said "Ya, we're almost there, there's the light from town" To which my father responded "That light is Venus, you're trying to fly to Venus"
Whether or not the pilot was making a drunk joke, I'll never know. I was young, an that pilot is long since deceased. But we clearly made it to town.
Talk2elk
Active member
This is the most fascinating story I read in a long time, in time of all the hate on TV this has been very inspiring. Thank you for sharing.
huronmtns
Well-known member
I have to say that this is one of my top rated threads on this forum. I spent the summer in Illiamna, Alaska in 1981 and spent some time out flying in the state while I was there. I never got to spend the time to get the experience and learn as much as you are providing in this thread. For me a further break down of each picture wouldn't be too much. Great stuff!
Thanks to all. Means a great deal to me that people appreciate seeing it, as my father spent decades of his life living a life I am truly envious of. I left when I wasn’t even a teenager.
My parents were both educators, and when he was younger than I am now, received a phone call asking if he wanted to take the job as a principal up north. They had no clue where the town was, but said yes immediately. As soon as he got off the phone, my Dad pulled out his atlas and searched for the town he and my mother had just agreed to move to. So to think that he was younger than me and moved up there with his wife and kids on a whim with no idea of what to expect and then lived there for decades fascinates me.
He always liked the adventure of life. As once he retired moved to Russia for a consulting job and lived there for another decade.
Sadly a vast majority of his stories are gone now, as are the rest way in which he told them. But I felt it would be such a shame to let them disappear into time as though they never happened, even though that is how he would have preferred it.
I have mountains more pictures to go through. My Mom just unearthed boxes and boxes of negatives and slides, it may be a while before I’m finished posting on this thread. So thanks to those that read through for putting up with my long winded replies and posts.
My parents were both educators, and when he was younger than I am now, received a phone call asking if he wanted to take the job as a principal up north. They had no clue where the town was, but said yes immediately. As soon as he got off the phone, my Dad pulled out his atlas and searched for the town he and my mother had just agreed to move to. So to think that he was younger than me and moved up there with his wife and kids on a whim with no idea of what to expect and then lived there for decades fascinates me.
He always liked the adventure of life. As once he retired moved to Russia for a consulting job and lived there for another decade.
Sadly a vast majority of his stories are gone now, as are the rest way in which he told them. But I felt it would be such a shame to let them disappear into time as though they never happened, even though that is how he would have preferred it.
I have mountains more pictures to go through. My Mom just unearthed boxes and boxes of negatives and slides, it may be a while before I’m finished posting on this thread. So thanks to those that read through for putting up with my long winded replies and posts.
The internet is rather slow here, so it will be a few more at a time...
The inside of the barge. Obviously we never rode inside it, but any chance to explore something different was welcome. I remember every year when we knew the barge was coming in, sitting on the shore waiting for it and watching it come in. That was one of the few occasions I was able to snag a candy/chocolate bar. For a short time when we lived on the Hudson, gulls would be all over the place. To this day I still love the sound of gulls, although my wife despises the "noise"
New portables being delivered for the school.
As I mentioned previously, when the supplies came in, it was the majority of your supplies for the whole year. So my Mom would plan out the meals she would need for the whole year, and figure out what we needed for the whole year. How many cans of vegetables, pounds of rice, butter, etc. My Dad would order ammo and the like, as that was obviously how we got all our meat. No sense ordering any when it was abundant (at the time). Gifts too, planning out all your gifts for the year, for the most part. Buying valentines day gifts, birthday, Christmas and so on.
My brother had wanted a new rifle one year, and was begging my father for it. While he was whining away, it was apparently underneath the couch he was sitting on while whining. But it had to stay there for months still.
Not all the supplies came by barge, but clearly this was the most effective way to bring in supplies for a whole town. In the summer time you could bring in larger flights.
I understand that you can land in snow, etc. in the winter, they do so in Antarctica all the time as an example. I don't know the why, I just know the result.
Barge and games, around the same time the barge came in would be games and dances, trades and sales. Local communities would gather for the event. I want to say this picture was from 1980 or 1981.
A hunting and fishing camp. Old canvas tents. We used our tent for everything from using it as a tent, to hauling meat on the sleds. Covered in blood stains, although we never gave thought to predators being attracted to the scent. Although in all our time there, not many sightings of Polar bears.
My Dad liked telling one of his close encounters with a polar bear though. He had shot something (a ptarmigan I think) across a body of water, and to prevent all his stuff from getting soaked, he stripped down and left everything ashore then he swam across to get it. Once he got ashore, he was in the process of collecting his animal, when out of the corner of his eye he saw a flash of white and knew immediately it was a polar bear. Knowing that he was completely naked with his rifle on the other shore he was none too happy at this prospect. If it were me, I would have immediately emptied my bowels in self defense, as well as let out a loud defensive injured rabbit scream. Well it turned out to be nothing more than a large amount of snow swirling next to him.
In reality, I was the only one in my family that ever ran into a polar bear without looking for one. My babysitter and I were walking along our "street" and there was a mother and its cub walking along the shore behind our house. I pointed it out to her, and wanted to go get a closer look, and she immediately scurried me inside, much to my chagrin. That was the only accidental encounter my family had in decades of living up there. They were around, just not so much in town or when you weren't actively looking for them. Times may be different now, but that was 30 years ago.
My brother and his fish. I was never really a fan of fishing, it just wasn't my thing. Although to be fair, neither was my father, although it was clearly a staple of our diet. Fishing was never an issue, in regards to difficulty. My father in law is an avid fisherman, and never liked seeing our old pictures as the fish were an order of magnitude larger than the ones he caught in AZ lakes.
There is a time of year when some animals hides change color, well, two times obviously. The best time was just as soon as it snowed or melted. A sort of twilight time, as the animals would be super easy to spot. Brown animal on white background, or vice versa.
This rabbit was not killed in one of those time, however. My brother again and his rabbit. Rabbits made for some very soft gloves, and pants for the kids. I think I still have my old set. .222 was our caliber of choice for rabbits, through a Remington 700. 36 power Leupold scope if I remember correctly, I still have and shoot it.
ETA: When the rabbits are white against the brown background.... My father was riding home one day with me on the back. And He saw a bunny, so as a target of opportunity, he figured he would kill it, and have that for dinner. He took the rifle out, aimed, and shot. Big white bunny, hard to miss. It didn't move, so he moved in for a better shot at a different angle. Missed. The rabbit still didn't move, so he thought now I'm definitely going to kill this retarded rabbit. Moved in even closer at a different angle for a third try. Missed. It still sat there, in his angling for a FOURTH attempt, he noticed something. It was a big diaper. He had hit it the previous three times...
This one was just outside our home. I will have to take a picture of the parkas, gloves, etc. when I get back stateside. Mine had a pocket on the inside, sort of like an internal belly pocket, that's where I would store lemmings I caught, or my toys.
More later.
The inside of the barge. Obviously we never rode inside it, but any chance to explore something different was welcome. I remember every year when we knew the barge was coming in, sitting on the shore waiting for it and watching it come in. That was one of the few occasions I was able to snag a candy/chocolate bar. For a short time when we lived on the Hudson, gulls would be all over the place. To this day I still love the sound of gulls, although my wife despises the "noise"
New portables being delivered for the school.
As I mentioned previously, when the supplies came in, it was the majority of your supplies for the whole year. So my Mom would plan out the meals she would need for the whole year, and figure out what we needed for the whole year. How many cans of vegetables, pounds of rice, butter, etc. My Dad would order ammo and the like, as that was obviously how we got all our meat. No sense ordering any when it was abundant (at the time). Gifts too, planning out all your gifts for the year, for the most part. Buying valentines day gifts, birthday, Christmas and so on.
My brother had wanted a new rifle one year, and was begging my father for it. While he was whining away, it was apparently underneath the couch he was sitting on while whining. But it had to stay there for months still.
Not all the supplies came by barge, but clearly this was the most effective way to bring in supplies for a whole town. In the summer time you could bring in larger flights.
I understand that you can land in snow, etc. in the winter, they do so in Antarctica all the time as an example. I don't know the why, I just know the result.
Barge and games, around the same time the barge came in would be games and dances, trades and sales. Local communities would gather for the event. I want to say this picture was from 1980 or 1981.
A hunting and fishing camp. Old canvas tents. We used our tent for everything from using it as a tent, to hauling meat on the sleds. Covered in blood stains, although we never gave thought to predators being attracted to the scent. Although in all our time there, not many sightings of Polar bears.
My Dad liked telling one of his close encounters with a polar bear though. He had shot something (a ptarmigan I think) across a body of water, and to prevent all his stuff from getting soaked, he stripped down and left everything ashore then he swam across to get it. Once he got ashore, he was in the process of collecting his animal, when out of the corner of his eye he saw a flash of white and knew immediately it was a polar bear. Knowing that he was completely naked with his rifle on the other shore he was none too happy at this prospect. If it were me, I would have immediately emptied my bowels in self defense, as well as let out a loud defensive injured rabbit scream. Well it turned out to be nothing more than a large amount of snow swirling next to him.
In reality, I was the only one in my family that ever ran into a polar bear without looking for one. My babysitter and I were walking along our "street" and there was a mother and its cub walking along the shore behind our house. I pointed it out to her, and wanted to go get a closer look, and she immediately scurried me inside, much to my chagrin. That was the only accidental encounter my family had in decades of living up there. They were around, just not so much in town or when you weren't actively looking for them. Times may be different now, but that was 30 years ago.
My brother and his fish. I was never really a fan of fishing, it just wasn't my thing. Although to be fair, neither was my father, although it was clearly a staple of our diet. Fishing was never an issue, in regards to difficulty. My father in law is an avid fisherman, and never liked seeing our old pictures as the fish were an order of magnitude larger than the ones he caught in AZ lakes.
There is a time of year when some animals hides change color, well, two times obviously. The best time was just as soon as it snowed or melted. A sort of twilight time, as the animals would be super easy to spot. Brown animal on white background, or vice versa.
This rabbit was not killed in one of those time, however. My brother again and his rabbit. Rabbits made for some very soft gloves, and pants for the kids. I think I still have my old set. .222 was our caliber of choice for rabbits, through a Remington 700. 36 power Leupold scope if I remember correctly, I still have and shoot it.
ETA: When the rabbits are white against the brown background.... My father was riding home one day with me on the back. And He saw a bunny, so as a target of opportunity, he figured he would kill it, and have that for dinner. He took the rifle out, aimed, and shot. Big white bunny, hard to miss. It didn't move, so he moved in for a better shot at a different angle. Missed. The rabbit still didn't move, so he thought now I'm definitely going to kill this retarded rabbit. Moved in even closer at a different angle for a third try. Missed. It still sat there, in his angling for a FOURTH attempt, he noticed something. It was a big diaper. He had hit it the previous three times...
This one was just outside our home. I will have to take a picture of the parkas, gloves, etc. when I get back stateside. Mine had a pocket on the inside, sort of like an internal belly pocket, that's where I would store lemmings I caught, or my toys.
More later.
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Makes the ones you have all the more valuable, though. I'm 30 and just got out of the military, and am moving to Alaska as soon as humanly possible... this thread has been an incredible read, and a fantastic example of how having the temerity to follow your dreams can result in some really amazing experiences that, from your captions, seem to be beyond a price tag. Thank you very much for sharing and for the inspiration.
Sounds awesome. I know there are quite a few here from Alaska that could give you a wealth of info.
Some more I found, just prior to my family moving up north. My Dad was always interested in wildlife prior to his time in the Arctic, and also spent a lot of time trapping, and raising and releasing injured animals. But he also decided to practice making an igloo prior to the move... Likely just out of amusement.
View attachment 1L4A6180.JPG
Ptarmigan pistol, one of them. Usually kept in the rear of the snowmobile for targets of opportunity. As I mentioned before, one time my father was taking me to school, he happened to see some ptarmigan. So he stopped and took the pistol out, shot one, and put them both in the back of the snowmobile until school was over. Certainly a different time and place.
Scott85
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I love all the photos and stories!
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