It's over!

Yes, fall is definitely over. This year, it lasted exactly seventeen days. In Alaska, spring and fall last whatever winter chooses to allow them, which usually is about a month. Week up or week down. When you suddenly wake up one day at 15 F and a foot of snow, that just means that winter has suddenly arrived. Like that, without a warning. The calendar can say whatever it wants, it's now winter.

Luckily, last week, we could still spend a few days doing one of the last subsistence activities of the season: berry picking. Of ocurse we missed a big part of it during the month of September, though since this is also moose season, not very many people go berry picking all that much anymore. However, we had our share furing the month of August and the first week of October.

Like all subsistence activities, this one also has a specific gender. Hunting and the initial butchering are male activities. Women finish it and pack it up for winter. Fishing is also mainly a male activity, though the cleaning of the fish is a women thing. Berry picking instead, is mostly a female activity. Men usually come along as gunners, just in case a bear shows up and want to put up a fight for the berries.

At least that's what everyone does. Everyone except my friend E, apparently. Of course, I learned that when it was already too late to turn around. "No one wants to come berry picking with me, because I don't bring a rifle." she says nonchalantly, when it was obvious that our gentleman boater had left and would not be back until 4 hours later to pick us up. Nope, she did not think about letting me know beforehand. So, I had no other option than to gather up all my courage, put myself in the hands of every other god up there in the skies, and focus on picking low bush blueberries and tundra tea while looking over my shoulder every now and then to make sure we were safe. We were lucky, no bear in sight that day.

I went back to the tundra with her once again. Though this time I brought my bear spray. Not that I even knew how to use it, but it was something. I'm glad I never had to use it because I'm sure I would have ended up spraying myself or something. So, my berry picking experience went by with no super exciting adventires to tell my grandkids in due time.

One of the most common uses of berries, and at the same time favorite Native dessert is "akutaq", also called "Eskimo ice cream." Mind you, it's not really ice cream. It's ingredients and white fish, berries, sugar, and fat. Traditionally, animal fat was used, but nowadays modern life has substituted it for Crisco. Some people love akutaq. And even though I have tried a few times, I just can't get over the Crisco.


Another interesting desert is "mouse akutaq." In this case, what is collected are not berries, but certain roots that have a very characteristic sweet flavor. The interesting part is that these roots are not harvested directly from the plant, but trespassing mice nests, who spend the summer accumulating them in their underground homes after they have chewed them up. Traditionally, people take only a part of what the mouse has gathered and the more generous substitute what they have taken for a portion of something else that can help feed the mouse during the winter. David loved it when he tried it last year, and so did Naím. I wasn't able to get past the fact that a mouse had chewed it, so I passed. I'm sure that if I have the chance again, I will try it now. I'm not as much of a city girl as I used to be anymore.

At home, we don't make akutaq, nor steel food from mice. What we do are jars and jars of low bush blueberry, blackberry, red berry, raspberry and rose hip jam. Hopefully, they will last all winter.

And with this, we close up the summer and fall chapters in Alaska. We leave behind the long days and the non-stop activity. No time for good-byes or slow transitions. From one day to the next, fall is definitely over.

This winter will be much different than the previous in many ways. However, I hope it's at least as beautiful and inspiring as last winter was.