Preserving the past at Nunalleq – before it is lost
You know you’re in the land of the free when you’re able to purchase something called the “Pretzel Baconator”. There I was, after eight hours of flying, in Minneapolis airport, where toilets doubled as tornado shelters. But if America is a different place then Alaska would feel like nowhere else I’d ever been before.
“Final call for Kim Harrison… and Eagle Rock.”
From Anchorage airport it was an hour-long flight to Bethel via Alaska Airlines – who you might recall had gained some notoriety earlier in 2024 after one of their doors blew off midway through a flight. I felt much safer in my wee propeller plane which juddered me to Quinhagak, pronounced “Kwin-a-gok”, which would have been useful to know before arriving in Bethel – I was very nearly shipped to an entirely different village thanks to my butchering of the Yup’ik Inuit language.
Here I was, some 4177 miles west of Thurso (but only one degree north), to participate in an excavation I first became aware of in 2015: Nunalleq. Located only a short drive from Quinhagak, Nunalleq is the site of a Yup’ik Inuit village which was burnt to the ground around 400 years ago by attackers from a nearby settlement in an episode of the “Bow and Arrows Wars”. Interestingly, the village elders at Quinhagak told stories passed down from generations about there being another village nearby, one which had suffered a great tragedy.
Over the course of nearly a decade, excavations had revealed the extent of that tragedy. Here, the remains of Nunalleq, preserved by a mixture of anaerobic (that is to say, oxygen and therefore bacteria-free) soils and lying under permafrost for at least half of the year, can be found: wooden structures and walkways buried in the earth; incredibly beautiful artefacts ranging from wooden dolls, carved stone points, ivory charms, wooden masks and even woven grass dog leashes, and human remains, some of which had been found with their hands bound behind their backs and decapitated – evidence of a devastating ambush.
A gruesome story, perhaps, but archaeology does not shy away from telling such tales. It is, after all, a science, and at Nunalleq there is an added threat to the site – with the overall temperature of the planet increasing, the permafrost which blankets and protects the site is thawing at an ever-growing rate. Add to this the fact it is a coastal site, one which is battered every year by rising water levels and frequent storms that lash the coast, eroding and tearing great clumps of earth out of the sea, floating out towards Russia. And with each clump, pieces of the past are lost forever.
Fortunately, Aberdeen University engaged with a project to uncover, record and characterise this site before it was lost completely. Already some 60,000 objects have been found and recorded, but only part of the site is thought to have been excavated. The excavations are led by Rick Knecht, whose enthusiastic, impish spirit and stories belie his 79 years, and who believes that the local community can benefit most from this dig. His dream is to create a local museum which will attract visitors to Quinhagak, and serve to inspire locals. Already the local elementary school and village elders are involved with the dig – helping to identify mystery pieces of wood, normally related to some kayak or canoe, or give names to specific stone knives: “Ah yes, this knife is the woman’s knife! It is known as uluaq. But the man’s knife, we call it nuusiq!”
After all, these are people who still actively participate in subsistence gathering, hunting and fishing. I met two women bent double on the beach, and I asked them what they were foraging for. “Beachgreens”, they replied, and I toddled off. Only to discover that they were dashing after me at quite a rate – had I done something wrong? They eventually caught up with me, panting, and holding up two completely indiscernible plants up to my eyes: “Oh God, we thought you were going to get some of the beachgreens! And then we get scared because if you eat these ones, you’re good… but if you eat these ones… you go to sleep and you not going to wake up!”, followed by raucous laughter.
But aside from being expert foragers, the Yup’ik Inuits have an armoury that would make a Texan blush. Guns are second nature here – children as young as four are shooting seals. When a boy kills his first elk or moose, they mark the occasion by having potlachs (guess where pot lucks came from), and also by throwing presents from the roofs of their houses. While in the past it might have been a piece of meat or perhaps a precious pelt, it is now PlayStation 5s launched into a baying crowd. Here, a new hunter is celebrated, and the resources are shared among the village – when winter rolls around, and the runway is closed, the residents depend more on each other.
Indeed, when this part of the world freezes over completely, shipments of food or materials are harder to come by. Even when I was there, a huge tanker, which would have dropped off necessities such as gas canisters or replacement parts for boats or whole quad bikes, ran aground on the mudflats. The barge that tried to move it also got stuck. The reason the ships became stuck in the sands is thought, again, to be related to climate change – the alluvial soils being scooshed out by the ever-expanding river into the sea, changing the nature of the seabed itself.
This river, by the way, is not only widening, but the course is changed, and so it recently came to flood and wipe out the runway, meaning that the village had to have a second runway built. Villagers here are experiencing climate change in real time.
And so, every year, archaeologists and volunteers gather to record and excavate what is found at Nunalleq, before it is too late. And the finds here are nothing short of exceptional – not only the quality, but the quantity. Every day we were finding something fairly remarkable. On my third day, I found something really quite astonishing.
Now, Rick Knecht, the characterful, story-laden archaeologist, is normally a very relaxed kind of guy – yet still retains an almost childlike fascination with every object uncovered at the dig. I knew I had impressed him with my find, which was inches away from being taken by the sea, as his exclamation rhymed with “Moly Duck”.
My find was half a mask with holes drilled around the eye. Similar designs have been found and interpreted – again through consultation with the elders – as being a representation of an owl. What made this find all the more satisfying was that the other half had been found almost 14 years prior. I find there to be a wholesomeness, if you’ll excuse the pun, in bringing together these two pieces of mask after 600 years or so.
Of course, this excavation brought together more than just masks. It brought people from all over the globe together: from France, from Canada, from across the States – with another lad from Culbokie (albeit originally hailing from Colorado) to meet, chat and work towards the common cause of preserving the past.
Aside from the truly world-beating archaeology, it was a great experience: fishing on the Kanektok river; eating freshly caught, man-sized halibut; tracking bear prints on the beach; and “enjoying” a maqii steam bath. I can only describe as even warmer than playing five-a-side football in the games hall. In the summer. With the heating on. Which was really not good for climate change.
I would like to thank Foundation Scotland’s Caithness Wind Farms Education and Training Fund for helping me towards funding an unforgettable month in Alaska, but a place I would dearly love to return to someday.