Yesterday, (September 2), I went walking on the Tundra. This was my second visit. Behind me is the cemetery and beyond that, about a mile away down the hill is Kotzebue. We picked blueberries, cranberries, and bear berries. The blueberries were the tastiest. On my first visit, the salmonberries were also ripe. I found them to be mildly revolting in an "Oh my gosh this berry tastes like old salmon eggs" sort of way, but a lot of people enjoy them. I think it is genetic, like how I love the smell of a skunk and some people I know hate it. (Jami???)
Salmonberry is the yellow blobby thing with the red leaves, the blueberry is at 2:00 from the center of the photograph, and the shiny oval leaves will develop the bear berries. At least that is my best guess. Just below the salmonberry leaves is a little plant with needle-like leaves reminiscent of Rosemary called Eskimo Tea, which I have tasted and enjoyed. It amazes me that many Inupiat pick gallons of these tiny berries each summer. Four of us spent an hour and managed about a cup and a half. Granted, we weren't very focused.
My goal was not berry picking, luckily. My goal was to smell the tundra. The experience of eau d'tundra reminds me of a trip Jerrold and I took to Malheur Wildlife Refuge. We'd driven across Central Oregon with the air conditioner on, making good time. Finally, after dark, we had to stop to water some sagebrush. Upon opening the car door the high desert fragrance almost had me swooning. The tundra affected me the same way. I just had to sit down on that foot of thawed, earthy, pillow and inhale. The aroma changes with the weeks, not as sweet yesterday as it was in August. This time it was darker, dirtier, more autumnal.
I had hoped for some animal tracks - I have seen bear, moose, and fox tracks so far - but I was satisfied with tromping in my Wellies, finding a pond with secretive brown ducks and one rising fish, and being startled by a line of huge silent geese flying overhead, then filled with joy when they called to me with the voice of Sandhills. Another flock of perhaps 30 of these magnificent birds traveled above in circles, giving the impression that perhaps winter is on the horizon. It is much too wet for animal tracks now. We have received double the usual rainfall this August and over 3 inches above normal for the year. That may not sound like much, but it is a 30% increase while the rest of the country suffers heat and drought.
My goal was not berry picking, luckily. My goal was to smell the tundra. The experience of eau d'tundra reminds me of a trip Jerrold and I took to Malheur Wildlife Refuge. We'd driven across Central Oregon with the air conditioner on, making good time. Finally, after dark, we had to stop to water some sagebrush. Upon opening the car door the high desert fragrance almost had me swooning. The tundra affected me the same way. I just had to sit down on that foot of thawed, earthy, pillow and inhale. The aroma changes with the weeks, not as sweet yesterday as it was in August. This time it was darker, dirtier, more autumnal.
I had hoped for some animal tracks - I have seen bear, moose, and fox tracks so far - but I was satisfied with tromping in my Wellies, finding a pond with secretive brown ducks and one rising fish, and being startled by a line of huge silent geese flying overhead, then filled with joy when they called to me with the voice of Sandhills. Another flock of perhaps 30 of these magnificent birds traveled above in circles, giving the impression that perhaps winter is on the horizon. It is much too wet for animal tracks now. We have received double the usual rainfall this August and over 3 inches above normal for the year. That may not sound like much, but it is a 30% increase while the rest of the country suffers heat and drought.