ZECO TRAVEL TALK

Last July travelers on our Fire & Ice: Kamchatka to Alaska voyage had the unexpected opportunity to witness a remarkable event in a subsistence community on the eastern edge of the Asian continent. Zegrahm naturalist, Mark Brazil, was on this trip, and reminds us that these spontaneous “expedition moments” are what true travel experiences are made of. He wrote about the scene at Lorino Village in his regular Japan Times column, and offered us the story for excerpts.

“…I am writing from the Clipper Odyssey as we cross Russia’s Gulf of Anadyr. Along the way we have been treated to extraordinary concentrations of wildlife including viewing 17 brown bears in one day.

Visitors to the outlying Bering Sea communities are rare, and the welcome is warm. Walking around, you never quite know what to expect. One constant, though, is the presence of animal bones. These are largely subsistence communities, and with agriculture quite impossible in this Arctic area, survival means hunting.

The intensity of our experience at Lorino Village was extreme, and in some ways I am still processing what I witnessed, although it was over in less than three hours. From our Zodiacs, we noticed something in the water tethered to the shore and quickly realized that the village had had a successful whale hunt—part of their annual 47-animal quota allowed under International Whaling Commission agreements.

Few of us strayed from the spectacle on the beach as a tractor was hitched to a hawser and the whale was hauled ashore, the aqua-dynamic shape revealed in a way impossible to appreciate at sea. A brief ceremony was performed, symbolically feeding the whale tundra plants, bread and chocolate, and even proffering a cigarette.

The whale was measured and officially recorded, and flensing began—on a scale I had never previously imagined. First the blubber, then the meat, then the internal organs were all stripped away by two skilled men with long-handled flensing knives, a team of pullers with hooks to maintain tension, and ultimately dozens of locals each armed with an ulu knife and a bucket or bag to take away their portion.

A huge trailer was loaded with the larger pieces to be hauled off for freezing. Some adults were chewing slivers of muktuk (blubber or skin), while children savored pieces of baleen. I watched one man excavate the ossicles (ear bones) for later carving. It would be easy to call it a grisly process, but only because the preparation of meat in our own diets has become so remote.

What impressed me was how little was left on the beach at the end of it all: blood stains on the gravel, the skull, some scraps of innards and blubber… and the whale was gone.”

To read the full column go to: Lives and a Death

At dawn the next morning, a pale moon was heading west, the sun broke through a patchwork of clouds and a rainbow shot out from behind Pitcairn as if to welcome us with open arms. The mood was jubilant—even at 5:30 in the morning as people came up on deck realizing we could not only go ashore, but that Mother Nature herself was in sunny spirits.

Two longboats came out to the starboard side of the Odyssey and we climbed down, about 35 at a time, and sat cross-legged on the broad deck. The vertical cliffs of the island seemed to loom larger as we approached, and we stepped onto a concrete pier next to a large “Welcome to Pitcairn” sign, surrounded by dazzling Bounty Bay. A long uphill walk brought us first to the resting place of the Acadia anchor which now had tangible meaning for us, then to the small town square bordered by Pitcairn’s Post Office, Public Hall, and Seventh Day Adventist church. Everyone was out, hosting folding tables of carvings, stamps, T-shirts, guidebooks, local honey, and handmade soap. We met just about everyone who lives here—including Tom Christian, the oldest surviving member of the Christian family—during our daylong visit, and we were all charmed and delighted by the friendliness, openness and eager exchanges.

We split into small groups to walk and hike this superb natural wonderland covered with lush vegetation, a profusion of flowers, pandanus, banyan, papaya, mango, and guava trees… and just about all of us saw the endemic Pitcairn reed warbler. Sheer cliffs, Christian’s Cave, St. Paul’s Pool, Highest Point, the Pulau School, and Eco Trail were a few of the treks we made during the day. For lunch, all the residents (including the mayor, postmaster, and minister) pitched in at the town square to cook us up a delicious lunch of fried fresh-caught fish and potatoes, salads, and huge wedges of fresh papaya for dessert. Miralda, a singer and guitarist, coaxed three children to stand in front of the Bounty anchor in the square to serenade us with local songs in the Pitkern language.

Before we set off for afternoon walks, we were invited into the church for an island slide presentation and brief singsong with about 12 of the locals who quickly pulled off their aprons to come inside from the square and sing for us. The striking words, the earnest strength of the voices, and the beauty of these rugged faces were a powerful combination and we spilled out into the afternoon sunshine feeling the spirit of community.

When we returned to the Odyssey, some of us headed out for a short dive and snorkel to view the Bounty wreck, its large wooden skeletal frame perfectly laid out in the sand—a fitting look into Pitcairn’s past and an perfect ending to a day none of us will ever forget.