Contributed by Kim Butler
As a military veteran bearing first-hand witness to heroic accomplishments, often at the ultimate cost to our military veterans, I revere the term “hero” as most sacred. I do not use it loosely or apply it to people and their everyday accomplishments, even when those achievements are significant or selfless.
However, I have another term for these everyday people and their good deeds since they deserve their own form of recognition: angels. Yes, angels. From my experience, angels are found throughout Alaska, and they step up in a variety of ways to make small and large difference in other people’s lives. And they don’t judge the darker color of my skin when our life paths intersect, despite the negative racial coverage you see in the news.
I am an African American veteran with over 30 years of honorable service to the United States Navy. Before moving to Alaska in 2002, I lived in and visited numerous countries and states. My wife and I have four daughters and also a son who we adopted from Ethiopia. He is 14 years old, and we both enjoy all the outdoor activities that Alaska offers, including hunting and fishing.
Angels enter your life in the most unexpected ways; and this winter the door they walked through for me opened when my son and I were awarded two caribou permits by Alaska Fish and Game. In September 2020, we spent four days hunting caribou in the Cantwell area with a friend who is a highly experienced hunter. Due to slow migration, we saw very few caribou and those we did observe on this expedition were miles away or headed in the opposite direction. After four days of hunting, we broke camp and returned home empty handed.
Over the next three months, my son and I drove 400 – 750 miles every other weekend with my wife or friends or other hunting buddies in search of the elusive caribou. The challenge of completing a successful hunt grew more intense as our permit expiration date drew close. A few days before it expired, my son and I ventured out once again, determined to find caribou in the Eureka and Lake Louise area and bring them home. I made a reservation with Sheep Mountain Lodge, not knowing how much time would be required to fill our tags. Mark, the owner of the lodge, was extremely accommodating, and my son and I enjoyed a spotless and comfortable room for the evening of January 8th.
On January 9th, we woke up early, energized by a good night’s rest and the prospect of a successful hunt, and drove to Eureka Lodge for breakfast. As two African American hunters in wilderness Alaska, I can honestly say that visually we stick out like two raisins in a bowl of rice. It mattered not at all. Both staff and guests, warmly greeted us, and several patrons generously offered us much welcomed advice on where the caribou were located, including specific directions to where they had been successful on their hunts. They all sincerely wished us luck. We left Eureka Lodge with high spirits, confident that it would be easy to find caribou after such a warm and encouraging send off.
We hunted for several hours on a snow machine in the mountains behind Eureka Lodge without success, then returned to our truck and drove to the Lake Louise area where we were warmly greeted by a young mother and her child who wished us well. Again, we hunted for several hours before deciding it was time to head out, but on our way back, a fellow hunter we passed reported that there were approximately 300 caribou near the trail he had just traveled. Of course, as unfulfilled hunters, we proceeded towards the caribou area only to find the herd had moved on. With darkness now upon us, we called it a day, loaded up the truck, and started the drive back to Sheep Mountain Lodge. It appeared the caribou had won this round.
Due to snowy weather conditions, I was driving slower than the speed limit when suddenly four caribou were illuminated in our headlights. Directly in front of us. My attempts to steer the truck away from the collision and the colorful language I used could not prevent us from striking one of the animals. Immediately my Dodge Ram truck was sent into a 180-degree spin to the right before the truck and trailer ended up facing the opposite direction, partially in a ditch and buried up to the bumper in snow. We were fortunate that neither of us was injured – and just as fortunate that several angels were about to become part of our caribou hunt story.
Many people stopped their vehicles to offer help. An elderly gentleman named Chuck immediately assessed the damage, grabbed my snow machine shovel, and began digging furiously with young-man energy to release my truck and trailer from the snow’s grasp. I directed my son to assist Chuck while I was coordinated with my wife, emergency dispatch and the insurance company on the cell phone. When Chuck retrieved a full-size shovel from his own truck, he picked up his already fast shoveling pace. Snow was flying! I felt like a heel watching Chuck shovel at that impressive pace while I continued to answer a slew of questions on my cellphone. An elderly Russian couple walked over and offered their help. Another couple provided the exact location where the accident occurred so I could relay it to my wife and insurance company. During the entire event, numerous drivers stopped to help. All were angels that night.
Alaska State Trooper Shawn Norman arrived and efficiently assessed the accident scene, provided assistance, and processed the requisite paperwork; he was a consummate professional. He assisted without reservation in the recovery of two caribou, while dressed in a fresh crisp uniform and traversing in deep snow. Trooper Norman, you were one of many angels that day and night. Let us not forget Chuck, who after digging me out for over 20 minutes, brought over a tow strap, connected it to my truck frame, disconnected my trailer, then pulled me out of the ditch. He then reconnected my trailer, shook my hand and drove off into the night. No drama, no fanfare, no expectations. I hope Chuck reads this because he is another one of the angels that didn’t have to stop that night but did.
When my son and I were finally alone sitting in our mangled but still operable truck, we stared at each other. “This is the reason I’m NEVER leaving Alaska,” I declared. Everyone that stopped to help was Caucasian, and none took note or had concerns about helping us. The sheer number of folks who were willing to assist two unknown African Americans men in the middle of the night, in a remote area, on a cold, dark, and snowy evening without hesitation continues to amaze me – and makes me proud of our state and of our people.
Famished after the big adventure and our finally successful caribou “hunt”, we drove the damaged truck and our sacrificial caribou to the Eureka Lodge restaurant. Despite the restaurant being closed, the generous staff at Eureka Lodge prepared two tasty sandwiches for us and gave us a place to decompress. You can add the staff at Eureka to our angel list. After eating, we proceeded back to Sheep Mountain Lodge. While on the way, I called Mark, the owner, and explained the night’s events and asked if he had anyone on staff that could assist me in cleaning the two caribou. Without hesitation, two members of his staff, Nathan and Lauren, volunteered to help us gut and clean the caribou. Angels were coming out of the woodwork. I’m convinced they are everywhere if you are open to receiving them and not being judgmental yourself.
After nearly two decades of living in Alaska, I continue to be impressed by Alaskans with their strong work ethic and grit and their uncanny ability to express their individualism without losing sight of community need. Despite a few personal experiences of discrimination from both the white and black community, I’ve found the lack of racial judgment here refreshing. The harsh reality of living in Alaska provides a spectrum that few can imagine who have never resided here. I strongly suspect the remoteness and hidden dangers we Alaskans face daily draw people together and provide a strong sense of camaraderie.
You see, Mother Nature does not care what color you are when you experience challenges in this great vastness of grandeur and peril, we call Alaska. Mother Nature doesn’t care, and neither do my fellow Alaskans who I will always celebrate as angels in our midst and thankfully, some are even editors.
