When the opportunity arose to volunteer in Kivalina, a remote Inupiat village perched on a narrow barrier island at the very edge of the Chukchi Sea, I didn’t hesitate. Visiting these villages is no easy feat—flights are expensive, and access is limited. So, when a chance came for a free trip and to contribute meaningfully by installing smoke detectors, I jumped at it. This small village, isolated and weather-beaten, has faced its share of challenges, and our mission was a response to one of them.
In February of this year, tragedy struck the nearby village of Noorvik when a fire claimed the lives of a family of six. The loss was devastating. In response, the local borough, in partnership with Maniilaq—the regional hospital where I work—launched an initiative to install smoke detectors in every home across the region’s 11 villages by the year’s end. Kivalina was next on the list, following Noorvik, Deering, Shungnak, and Selawik.
The day of the trip felt like an adventure from the start. With 29 people heading to Kivalina for various reasons, including a Kivalina community meeting, we needed three separate flights to get everyone there. My group met at the hospital at 8 a.m., buzzing with excitement. The clouds hung low, but the air was relatively still, promising a smooth flight. We were flying with Golden Eagle Adventures, an 8-seater plane that was certainly more intimate than your typical flight. The 40-minute trip was a reminder of island hopping back home, though the landing here was onto a dirt runway, a far cry from anything familiar.
Our “airport” was nothing more than an open area where the plane touched down, and we stepped directly onto the dirt. We didn’t disembark; we simply walked off. A few buildings nearby marked Kivalina, and we made our way to the borough road maintenance shop, which was to serve as our base camp for the day and the site of our community BBQ later on.
Before getting to work, we had the chance to tour Kivalina’s small health clinic. These rural clinics always amaze me. Their humble exteriors hide stories of resilience, and this one was no different. Run by CHAPs—Community Health Aide Program workers—this clinic is the first line of defense for a village with limited access to professional medical care. CHAPs are trained to provide first aid and emergency care, manage chronic diseases, offer maternal and child health services, treat common illnesses and injuries, and coordinate care with doctors and hospitals via telemedicine. I am always in awe at the courage it must take to work in a place like this, where help is far, and every day could bring an unexpected crisis.
After the tour and a quick briefing, we split into teams and set out across Kivalina’s three main roads, though “roads” is a generous term. My team took the road along the beach, which was basically sand. We knocked on door after door, offering to install smoke detectors or leave them for residents to handle themselves. The houses were modest but welcoming, and nearly every person who answered was grateful for our help. Kenneth, one of our group members, had the height advantage, making the installation process much smoother. If there’s one thing I learned that day, it’s that being on a team with a tall person is key!
Within a couple of hours, we had hit every home—about 80 to 90 in total. I was humbled by how much the people appreciated our efforts, many thanking us for the work, while others asked if we’d be doing carbon monoxide detectors as well. A few families weren’t home, and we left smoke detectors for them, hoping they would follow through.
The children of the village were a highlight of the day. They approached us curiously, offering hugs and asking questions. There’s a refreshing sense of innocence in these villages. Kids run around freely, with little fear of danger, and the tight-knit community keeps a watchful eye. It reminded me of my own childhood, growing up in the country, where we roamed the woods without a worry. There’s something pure about life in these villages—a slower pace, where people still trust one another.
Once our work was done, we returned to base camp for a BBQ. The smell of grilled hot dogs and hamburgers filled the air, a rare treat for us as travel nurses in the region. Country music played, and as school let out, kids rushed over to grab their grub. Soon after, the adults, fresh from work, came for the BBQ as well. People came in and out, and many of the community members expressed appreciation for both the smoke detectors and the BBQ. It’s moments like this that make me realize how much I love the simplicity of life in these remote areas.
With time left before our return flight, we had the chance to visit the new school that was built inland. Kivalina, like many coastal villages, is facing the looming threat of climate change. Erosion and rising sea levels are slowly consuming the island, and it has been predicted that by 2025, the village will be underwater. The school sits at the end of an 8-mile road that was painstakingly built after gravel had to be made from scratch. It’s a beautiful building, equipped with the latest technology and offering students a glimpse of modernity in such an isolated region. Yet, the political and cultural strife surrounding the potential relocation of the village complicates the situation. Some residents are resistant to leaving their ancestral home, while others see the writing on the wall. Still, the new school stands as a beacon of hope for the future.
Riding in the back of a pickup truck on the way there and back, with the tundra stretching endlessly around us, was exhilarating. Our driver didn’t hold back, speeding along the narrow road as if we were on a joyride. The colors of the tundra were as beautiful as ever—mossy greens, deep browns and reds, and bursts of golden yellows. We didn’t spot any wildlife, but the vastness of the land is always enough.
Finally, it was time to head back to Kotzebue. Our plane arrived, and we boarded quickly, the supplies we had brought with us now largely distributed throughout the village and our bellies. As usual, the small flights between villages double as courier services, and we hauled a few bins of hospital supplies back with us. The flight home offered more spectacular views, and as we neared Kotzebue, the fog started creeping in. I briefly wondered if we could land, but the fog wasn’t actually that bad, and even if it was, our pilot, Jarod, was that good.
As the day came to an end, I reflected on the experience. Kivalina, with its challenges and its beauty, had left an impression on me (and had I left a glove in it 🤦♀️). Living in these small, rural communities comes with significant challenges—limited access to emergency services, the absence of indoor plumbing in some homes, and the looming threat of climate change—but it’s precisely these hardships that highlight the simplicity of life and the strong sense of togetherness that I deeply admire. I am grateful, not just for the chance to visit, but for the opportunity to make a small difference in this unique corner of the world, and I look forward to the next village smoke detector installation!
