Toothwalkers

The plane climbed and whined away toward the fish cannery for the next leg of the Togiak run out of Dillingham, Alaska, and we were left with our gear on the runway at Twin Hills. A ship and scattered flotilla of small craft were marooned in the marshy tundra and tidal swamp that stretches from Twin Hills to Togiak. A group of girls raced by on a four-wheeled all-terrain vehicle, squealing and giggling as they spun and churned up dirt. The eldest of the three was no more than ten-a Yup'ik smile stuffed into a purple and pink parka. From a rise in the opposite direction an old woman came motoring along on her four-wheeler laden with dry goods from the cannery store at Togiak Fisheries. Her engine sputtered as she dipped into town: a hamlet of homes, satellite dishes, antennae, propane tanks, and vehicles in various degrees of service in the shadow of the Twin Hills. Most of the houses rested on blocks and low scaffolding, periodically adjusted to accommodate the yaw and spasm of the frozen ground.