It’s Resurrection Day in Bethel.  When we woke it was 7 degrees below zero and quite sunny.  We have of course gotten used to the idea that clear skies means cold weather, but we have this old nature that says that we expect this time of year to be warmer than the winter, so the temperature was somewhat of a shock.  Not a complete system-wide shudder, though, as walking to church this morning was quite natural without gloves, even.

When we went fishing a few weeks ago we were shown, very quickly, how to prepare the Pike for drying.  We weren’t able to make it work, though as after we had prepared it, we put it outside to dry in the cold, and it blew away in one of the many nights of wind.  This basic error is one that no Native would ever make and it brought laughter and successfully dried fish to us.

Dry-fish is like beef jerky.  It is tough, chewy and doesn‘t need refrigeration.  It’s preparation is quite simple in that the two halves of the fish are still connected at the tail, then inverted, scale-side to scale-side, and hung in the cold for at least one week, preferably two.  It is then cut into strips, as is, and eaten throughout the year.  It is a staple -- it is unthinkable that a person would not have an ample supply of dry-fish.  After all, it is quite portable, light-weight and doesn’t spoil on berry-picking or hunting excursions into the tundra.

I’ve heard repeatedly, ever since I was a child, that fish ought not smell like fish.  It is quite okay that it smell like the ocean, but that certainly it ought not smell like fish.  In this area, the smell of fish is the smell of home.  Fish smell is common and loved.  When fish are dried, it smells strongly of fish, like it‘s concentrated.  It is not considered bad; but makes people’s mouths water, much the way the smell of bacon makes my mouth water.

On the walk home from church today, I noticed the tire-tracks in the ice as I was walking.  I am used to tire tracks in snow; very detailed.  Ice was new.  I imagined that in the blink of time when the ice on the road was starting to turn into slush, and then it decided not to, that it was driven over.  I’m sure there is a metaphor there, but right now my brain is somewhat foggy from this ongoing sickness.