"Note: I published part 2 and 3 to this post tonight so if you haven't read part 2 yet, I recommend doing that first. Simply scroll down to find part 2. Part 1 is further down still if you want to read that as well. -Eric"
We were returned to Gladys Jung, having only been gone about twenty minutes. A few other schools were likewise stranded and we went about resituating ourselves in the classrooms. With the robotics competition over, the gym was clear of Legos and we spent most of the afternoon playing basketball, throwing footballs, and running around. We also got in our promised one last trip to the store. As the students spent what they had left, I took advantage of a produce section to stock up on a few rare items – fresh tomatoes, avocado, cucumber… The walk back was interesting as now my hands were full holding a box of vegetables and other snacks for our team. The rain that had been lightly fallen had taken to changing states as the temperature dropped. If I slipped I was going to end up with produce all over the road. I also now have an irrational (actually, it’s probably pretty rational) fear of denting my face after hearing another teacher’s horror story of slipping on the ice and fracturing his cheek to such a degree that his face was visibly misshapen. Step after careful step I safely made it back to the school with all of my food. We rounded out the night with ice cream another teacher bought for the team and another round of gym time. We went to bed hoping that the weather in the morning would improve enough to allow planes to land in Tununak.
A quick breakfast and thorough cleaning of Gladys Jung and we again were ready to give the airport another try. We made it to the airport this time before learning that planes to the coast were on a weather hold. While preferable to an outright cancellation, a weather hold is still a bit too much when you have a dozen additional people you are responsible for. I should also add that the word airport means quite a bit less that what a conventional airport would mean. The airport I am referring to is in fact the Grant terminal, a small room with a ticket counter and baggage check similar in size to an old rural train station. There is a row of benches along one wall, a picnic table, and a small coffee shop upstairs that runs strange hours. Needless to say, in the event of a long weather hold there is very little to do. And we may be in for a while. The thing is, a hold doesn’t guarantee anything. I have known people that have ended up spending the entire day in the airport only to find out that the weather has not improved enough and to come back the next day and try again. And so, we settled in to wait.
As the hours went by we received little information from the airline. Typical for Alaska; aggravating for me. I have been conditioned to a constant stream of information. I like to know the details. What is the wind speed on the coast? Is it a crosswind? What about the temperature? Is that playing a role? Maybe fog? Low clouds? Earthquake? Tsunami washing the runway into the sea? Anything! But that isn’t the way things work. And so I wait, trying not to concern myself with answers that will not be answered. It seems I have spent the past ten years working with children in a variety of settings strengthening my patience. I am tapping into that skill now. From time to time a pilot will emerge, announce a village, rattle off a list of names, and then load up a plane and head off. Each time a pilot emerges, the entire airport full of people, all waiting quite a bit more patiently than me, eagerly strain to hear the village and the names, wishing, most of the time, in vain. It is only in moments like these, as I watch small groups of people have their names called to fly off to more weather friendly villages, when I find negative thoughts about Tununak milling about in my head. Why would anyone settle in a region with such brutal weather? How crazy must people be to continue living in a place where the wind is always blowing? And then, suddenly I hear “Tununak! Name, name, name, name, name, Eric!” and those negative thoughts flee my mind to be replaced by a sense of excitement and pride. I am going home. As we get in sight of Tununak I am reminded of the things I love about the village I have been placed in. We are one of the few villages (literally) that have significant hills and we have a river and my home is a mere hundred yards from the Bering Sea. Not to mention the best robotics team in the district.
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