I recently had the chance to visit another village for smoke alarm installation, and, just like last time, I jumped at the opportunity. Our destination this time was Buckland, another small village nestled in the Northwest Arctic Borough of Alaska. Buckland sits along the Buckland River, with a population of around 500 people, most of whom are Iñupiat. The village is known for its subsistence lifestyle, with hunting, fishing, and berry picking being central to the community’s way of life.
The weather had shifted since our last trip—it was colder, and the days were much shorter. When we left at 8 a.m., it was still pitch dark. As we flew, I spotted the glow of Noatak and Deering’s airport lights marking their distant locations. By the time we landed in Buckland after the short flight, the sky was still dark, but the ground greeted us with a fresh, beautiful 4-5 inches of snow that had fallen the day before—a winter wonderland, much to my delight.
We were welcomed by the crisp, cold air and were quickly driven to the City Office building, which would serve as our base for the day. After unloading our supplies, including two brand new grills we’d be leaving for the community, we realized it was still early by village standards. People in rural Alaska often stay up late and sleep in, so around 9:30, we decided to assemble the grills while waiting for folks to wake up.
By 10:30 or 11, we finally ventured out. Our first stop was the local Native Store, where we browsed the shelves. To our surprise, the prices weren’t as high as in some villages, which at least partly explained why Chris, our team lead, had mentioned it was his favorite village store. After our short detour, it was time to get to work.
My team took the supposed “long route,” but we ended up finishing first. Perhaps it was longer in distance but with fewer homes—either way, we wrapped up quickly. The residents were incredibly welcoming, just like in Kivalina, and expressed genuine gratitude for the work we were doing. We made sure to invite everyone to the community BBQ at 3 p.m., although it had already been announced over the VHF radio. The radio is a vital communication tool in these villages—used to announce everything from dental visits to wildlife alerts, like polar bears in town. In some homes, we barely had to introduce ourselves before people invited us in, knowing we were there for smoke detectors.
Interestingly, a few homes in Buckland already had smoke detectors from a smaller initiative a year or two ago. Still, many needed replacements, including the retired fire chief, who wanted 12 detectors to update his home. We finished the installations in about two hours and then had several hours to kill while waiting for the plane to return.
Our flight had been delayed by an hour—likely to load up with supplies for the village, a common occurrence when flying in rural Alaska. When the plane finally arrived, it was packed to the brim with goods, no doubt double-billed to both the borough and the suppliers. But that’s life in remote Alaska—the skies are dominated by the few, and flexibility is key.
While waiting, Chris borrowed someone’s Honda and gave me a quick tour of the village. Buckland may be small, but it was bustling with life. Children were out playing in the snow, sledding, pulling each other on sleds down the road, and even ice skating along the snow-packed streets. The blue sky and clouds mirrored off the river that winds through the village. Beyond the river, I could see the cemetery, which would soon be reachable by means other than boat once the river freezes over. It was peaceful, a reminder of the simplicity of life in these villages.
After the tour, we returned to the City Office for the inevitable “hurry up and wait” that accompanies rural work. We tidied up a bit and passed the time chatting, enjoying the slower pace of village life.
The highlight of the day for me, once again, was the kids. One boy wanted to play “catch the candy bar” with me—his favorite was Hershey’s with almonds. Another little girl had just celebrated her 8th birthday, and her decorations were still up. A younger boy kept popping out from behind a snowbank, playing peek-a-boo, laughing every time I saw him. Then there was a group of teens gathering food and water from the BBQ to take to the elders. One girl spilled her parents’ tea and casually told us her dad had run off to Kotzebue, then to Anchorage, and back again. They seemed to have a rather unhealthy relationship, and she insisted she wouldn’t follow in her parents’ footsteps because, as she put it, “they’re cousins!”—an unexpected confession that left us momentarily speechless.
Despite the delays and the waiting, it was another memorable day in rural Alaska, filled with the warmth of community, a sense of purpose, and the ever-present beauty of the Arctic. I was left, once again, greatly looking forward to the next village smoke detector installation.
Nice summary of a fun and helpful visit!