Two Old Women: An Alaska Legend of Betrayal, Courage and Survival (4 page)

Temperatures had dropped, and the cold air made the women’s eyes sting. Time and time again, they had to warm their faces with their bare hands, and they continually wiped tears from their irritated eyes. But their fur and skin clothing served them well, for cold as it was, their bodies remained warm.

The women walked late into the night. They had not gone too far, but both were bone-weary and felt as though they had been walking forever.
Deciding to camp, the women dug deep pits in the snow and filled them with spruce boughs. Then they built a small campfire, reboiling the squirrel meat and drinking its broth. They were so tired they soon fell asleep. This time they did not moan or twitch but slept deep and soundlessly.

Morning arrived, and the women awoke to the deep cold surrounding them while the sky above seemed like a bowl of stars. But as the women tried to climb out of their pits, their bodies would not move. Looking into each other’s eyes, the women realized they had pushed their bodies beyond their physical endurance. Finally, the younger, more determined Sa’ managed to move. But the pain was so great that she let out an agonized groan. Knowing this would happen to her, too, Ch’idzigyaak lay still for a while, gathering courage to withstand the pain she knew would come. Finally, she, too, made her way slowly and painfully out of the snow shelter, and the women limped around the camp to loosen their stiff joints. After they chewed on the remaining squirrel
meat, they continued their journey, slowly pulling their laden toboggans.

That day would be remembered as one of the longest and hardest of the days to come. They stumbled numbly on, many times falling down into the snow from sheer fatigue and old age. Yet they pushed on, almost in desperation, knowing that each step brought them nearer to their destination.

The distant sunlight that appeared for a short while each day peeped hazily through the ice fog that hung in the air. Now and again, blue skies could be seen, but mostly the women noticed only their own frosty breath coming in thick swirls. Freezing their lungs was another worry, and they took care not to work too hard in the cold and, if such work was unavoidable, they wore a protective covering over their faces. This could cause irritating side effects, such as frost buildup where the covering brushed against their faces. However, the women did not notice such minor discomforts compared with their aching limbs, stiff joints, and swollen feet. Sometimes even the heavy sleds seemed to serve a purpose by keeping the women from falling flat on their faces as they pulled onward with the ropes wrapped around their chests.

As the few hours of daylight slipped away, the women’s eyes readjusted to the darkness that began to enfold them. But they knew that night had not yet arrived and that there was still time to move. When it became time to camp, the women found themselves on a large lake. They could see the outline of trees along the shore and they knew that the forest would be a better place to camp. But they were so exhausted they could go no farther. Again they dug a deep pit
in the snow, and after snuggling down and covering themselves with their skin blankets they were soon asleep. The thick skin and fur clothing held their body heat and protected them from the cold air. The snow pit was as warm as any shelter aboveground, so the women slept, mindless of freezing temperatures that made even the most ferocious northern animals seek shelter.

The next morning, Sa’ awoke first. The long sleep and cold air cleared her mind considerably. With a twisting grimace she stuck her head out of the hole to look around. She saw the outline of trees on the shore and remembered how they had been too tired to complete their crossing of the lake.

She got up slowly, not wanting to disturb her friend’s slumber and knowing that with a wrong move her stiffened body would lock up and refuse to go farther. A smile hovered around her lips as she thought of how she and her friend had complained loudly and often of their minor aches and pains a few days before, and of
the walking sticks they had used until forgetting them at the camp the day before. Slowly stretching in the chilly air, she made a mental note to remind her friend of this when the right time came. They could laugh over the fact that for years they had carried those sticks around to help them walk better and now, somehow, they had managed many miles without them. Putting on her snowshoes, Sa’ walked about to loosen the stiffness in her sore joints.

From within the snow pit, Ch’idzigyaak looked up at her more agile companion who slowly circled the shelter. Ch’idzigyaak was still tired and feeling miserable. But she knew she must do her best to stand beside her friend through this hardship. She had lived long enough to know that if she gave up, her friend would give up, too. So she forced herself to move, but the pain that filled her body made her lie back down, and let out a deep sigh.

Sa’ saw that Ch’idzigyaak was having a hard time, so she reached down to help her climb out of the pit. Together they grunted, struggling to
move. Soon they were walking again, and kept right on going until they reached the edge of the lake. There, they built a fire and, after eating some of the rabbit meat they had carefully rationed, they returned for their sleds and resumed their journey.

The frozen lakes seemed endless. Struggling through the many spruce trees, willow thickets, and thorn patches that lay between the lakes wore the women out until they felt as if they had traveled many more miles than they had. Despite having to make many detours around obstacles, the women never completely lost their sense of direction. Sometimes, fatigue clouded their judgment, and they found themselves straying slightly off course or going in circles, but they soon found their way again. In vain, they hoped that the slough they sought would appear suddenly. Indeed, there were times when one of them would fantasize that they had reached their destination. But the constant reminders of the intense cold and aching bones brought them quickly back to reality.

On the fourth night, the women almost
stumbled onto the slough. Everything around them stood shrouded under silvery moonlight. Shadows stretched beneath the many trees and over the slough. The women stood on the bank for a few moments, resting as their eyes took in the beauty of that special night. Sa’ marveled at the power the land held over people like herself, over the animals, and even over the trees. They all depended on the land, and if its rules were not obeyed, quick and unjudgmental death could fall upon the careless and unworthy. Ch’idzigyaak looked at her friend as Sa’ sighed deeply. “What’s the matter?” she asked.

Sa’s face creased in a sad smile. “Nothing is wrong, my friend. We are on the right trail after all. I was thinking about how it used to be that the land was easy for me to live on, and now it seems not to want me. Perhaps it is just my aching joints that are making me complain.”

Ch’idzigyaak laughed. “Perhaps it is because our bodies are just too old, or maybe we are out of shape. Maybe the time will come when we will spring across this land again.” Sa’ joined in the joke.

Such musings were meant only to lift their spirits and the women knew that their journey was not over, nor would their struggle for survival become easier. Although they had grown soft in their old age, Ch’idzigyaak and Sa’ knew they would pay a high price of hard toil before the land yielded them any comforts.

The two women walked down the winding slough until they came upon a large river. Even in times of cold weather, the swishing undercurrents of the river eroded the ice and made it thin and dangerous to walk on. The women realized this as they carefully inched their way across the quiet river, keeping their senses alert for the sound of cracking ice or any hint of steam rising from between the ice chinks.

When they finally reached the other side, the tension and fatigue left both women mentally and physically drained. With what little energy remained, they numbly set to the task of building yet another overnight shelter.

N
ights past when they had managed to build shelters were nothing compared to this one, for the women were so tired they could barely move. In blind determination they stumbled about gathering spruce boughs for their beds and large chunks of wood for the campfire. Finally, they huddled together and stared as if hypnotized into the large orange blaze they ignited from the live coals carried from the first campsite. Soon they slipped mindlessly off to sleep. They did not hear the lonesome howl of a distant wolf, and before they knew it the cold air of morning brought them back to their senses.

They had fallen asleep leaning against one another and somehow managed to stay in that position all night. Because they were sitting up on their legs, the women knew getting up would not be easy. They sat still for a long time. Then Sa’ made an effort to rise, but her legs had lost their feeling. She grunted and tried again. Meanwhile, Ch’idzigyaak closed her eyes tightly and pretended to be asleep. She did not want to face the day.

Sa’ gathered a little courage to force herself to move, but the aches in her bones proved to be too much for her this time. Again they had pushed their bodies beyond their limits. Without meaning to, Sa’ let out a painful moan, and she felt a great urge to cry. She hung her head, defeated by all they had been through these past few days, and the cold made her feel even more despair. As much as she wanted to, her body would not move. She was too stiff.

Ch’idzigyaak listened lethargically to her friend’s sniffles. She was amazed that she could sit and listen to Sa’ cry and feel no emotion. Perhaps it was not meant for them to go on. Perhaps the young ones were right—she and Sa’ were fighting the inevitable. It would be easy for them to snuggle deeper into the warmth of their fur clothing and fall asleep. They would not have to prove anything to anyone anymore. Perhaps the sleep that Sa’ feared would not be so bad after all. At least, Ch’idzigyaak thought to herself, it would not be as bad as this.

Yet, for as little will as her older friend had, Sa’ possessed enough determination for both of them. Shrugging off the cold, the pain in her sides, her empty stomach, and the numbness in her legs, she struggled to get up and this time succeeded. As had become her morning habit, she limped around the campsite until feeling slowly began to course through her bloodstream. When the circulation returned, there was more pain. But Sa’ concentrated her attention on gathering more wood to build the fire. Then she boiled a rabbit head to make a tasty broth.

Ch’idzigyaak watched all this from between narrowed lids. She did not want her friend to
know that she was awake, for then, Ch’idzigyaak felt, she would be obligated to move, and she did not want to move. Not now and not ever. She would stay exactly as she was, and perhaps death would steal her quickly away from the suffering. But her body was not ready to give in just yet. Instead of slipping blissfully into oblivion, Ch’idzigyaak suddenly felt the urgent need to relieve her bladder. She tried to ignore this, but soon her bladder could wait no more, and with a loud grunt she felt her bladder letting go. In quick panic she jumped up and headed for the willows, startling her friend. When Ch’idzigyaak came out of the willows looking slightly guilty, Sa’ tilted her head in wonder. “Is something wrong?” she asked. Ch’idzigyaak, feeling embarrassed, admitted, “I surprised myself by how fast I moved. I did not think I would be able to move at all!”

Sa’ was thinking of the day ahead. “After we have eaten, we should try to move on, even if we go only a little way today,” she said. “Each step brings us closer to where we are going. Although
I do not feel good today, my mind has power over my body, and it wants us to move on instead of staying here to rest—which is what I want to do.” Ch’idzigyaak listened as she ate her portion of the rabbit head and broth. She, too, felt like staying there for a while. In fact, she desperately wanted to stay. But after putting aside her foolish thoughts, she felt ashamed and reluctantly agreed they should move on.

Sa’ felt a slight disappointment when Ch’idzigyaak agreed to resume their journey, wondering if deep within her she had hoped Ch’idzigyaak would refuse to move. But it was too late for second thoughts. So both women tied the ropes around their thin waists and pulled onward. As they walked, they kept their eyes open for signs of animals, for their food was nearly gone, and meat was their prime source of energy. Without it, their struggle would be over soon. Sometimes, the women stopped to discuss the route they had chosen and to ask themselves if it was the correct way. But the river led in only one direction
from the slough, so the women walked along the riverbank as they kept a lookout for the narrow creek that would lead them to a place remembered for its plentiful fish long ago.

The days dragged on as the women slowly pulled their sleds across the deep snow. On the sixth day, Sa’, who had grown accustomed to staring dully only at the path ahead, happened to glance up. Across the river she saw the opening to the creek. “We are there,” she said in a soft, breathless voice. Ch’idzigyaak looked at her friend, then at the creek. “Except we are on the wrong side,” she said. Sa’ had to smile at her friend, who always seemed to find the negative side of a situation. Too tired to offer a lighter point of view, Sa’ sighed to herself as she motioned to her friend to follow.