TIGARA AGELESS CITY OF THE ARCTIC

From out of the sky comes a modern machine to visit the proud people of the remote Arctic village of Tyonek, Alaska. Closed in by heavy ice fog many months each year, Tyonek is often inaccessible to the outside world. But there is no hurry about getting here because the clock is frozen. Time stands still. But the arrival of the plane is an exciting moment to the Arctic Eskimos, so the entire population turns out and extends a warm welcome to a cold land. Calendars have been thrown to the winds at this barren and desolate cap on the world where the Eskimos have lived the same existence for over 3,000 years. But the bleakness of the summer landscape is no indication of the strength of the people who live here. Nor was it so before man recorded his history when these sod igloos were designed countless centuries ago. And here is his transportation, the walrus skin boat and the husky dogs. Without these, this civilization would have long since perished. Now the warm sun begins to thaw the frozen earth and a favorite pathway of these natives is revealed. For Christianity plays an important role here. Sunday spreads beyond the Yukon to this little church in this big land. As the service ends, the congregation returns home. With nearly everything against the survival of these people, including the never-ending wind, it probably takes more than an average amount of prayer to get by. Few final resting places in the world could look more final than this one. No trees or bushes survive along this region of the Arctic coast. So, the fence around the cemetery has been made of the principal building material of Tigara, whale bones. In fact, this place is now called Whale Bone City. And it took several hundred whales to construct this polar shrine. But, as springtime clears away the ice and brings out the green tundra grass, it also brings out the young Eskimo children for a look into prehistoric days. Before the coming of Christ, there flourished a large and successful civilization here. And it was estimated the population of this ancient buried village was larger than the city of Fairbanks. For a brief time each year, the permafrost is thawed far enough down to enable these junior-sized archaeologists to dig in and unearth trinkets and implements from the ancient ruins. The first find is a side cutting tool, and everybody has a look. Next, they discover a spearhead. This would be lashed on a pole to be used in a seal hunt. And then an ancient harpoon made of bone and slate for hunting the great polar whale. Snow blindness has always been a threat to the people of the Arctic, so these were used to filter the sun's brilliant rays. But Iglulik is an ageless city, and these objects, thousands of years old, are not outdated relics of the past. They will be taken home and placed back in service. Even this walrus spear, made from the ivory of the walrus himself, will soon go back to sea again. The origin of this buried city is thought to be Asiatic. And if their appetites were as large as this eating plate, they must have been an amazing race. But not all of their craft history is under the ground. Meet Jackie Atungauyak, an Eskimo artist who carves masks from the ball socket joint of a whale's flipper. The bone is carefully selected for this job, and after a good piece has been chosen, the tedious chipping process begins. It takes a full day and a full measure of patience, using no other tools, just this hatchet-like chipper. The equipment never changes. His roof is the sky, his floor is the soil. His workbench is the shoulder blade of a whale. Jackie is considered one of the foremost artists of this nature now living in the Arctic. The masks have many symbolic purposes, and are an important part of the Eskimo's folklore. This never-changing art lives forever by a family teaching process. It is the father's duty to pass along his knowledge and experience to his sons. He teaches them the arts and crafts he knows and the same methods and tools are handed down from generation to generation. The female mask has three lines carved from the lip down over the chin, similar to the tattooed stripes the women wore for many years. The men had it even worse. Ivory buttons were worn on their lower lips. Jackie says that the old adage is proved true once more, three heads are better than one. And just as tradition dominates the art of this civilization, it does the same with home building. A front door is a hole in the roof. The door is placed on top of the house so it won't be covered with drifted snow during the sub-zero Arctic winter. An old-timer climbs out of his sod igloo and has an unobstructed view of the top of the world. This is the basic skeleton used to build a new sod igloo and skeleton it is. The whale bones are placed in the ground to form the framework of the house. The curved part of the ribs are turned in at the top to help make the roof. The Arctic Eskimo uses this long nose sod cutting tool, similar to the one taken from the buried ruins, to cut the tundra into blocks. Summer time here is repair time, just as it is in many lands. The heavy rains and snows driven by winds of hurricane velocity erode the igloos and bring on an international problem, leaky roof. So, the strips of tundra are rolled up, placed aside to be used as mud shingles. The sod is his plaster, the supply is unlimited. Many of these and sod igloos are used for generations. By keeping them in repair, there's no limit to their usefulness. The igloos are all comparatively small. The inner floor space being about 12 by 14 ft. The number of people living inside does not determine how large the igloo should be. Its standard size was arrived at years ago when the Eskimo found his limited fuel supply could not keep a larger place warm. Originating this type of dwelling is undoubtedly the key to this Arctic man's survival. The sod is the protective insulation that separates the native from the severe Tygerian blizzards. The igloos are all comparatively small. The inner floor space being about 12 by 14 ft. The number of people living inside does not determine how large the igloo should be. Its standard size was arrived at years ago when the Eskimo found his limited fuel supply could not keep a larger place warm. Originating this type of dwelling is undoubtedly the key to this Arctic man's survival. The sod is the protective insulation that separates the native from the severe Tygerian blizzards. But still nature does her part in keeping this home weather proof. During winter, snow and ice weld the blocks together. During the summer, the tundra sprouts again and grows a lawn on top of the house. There's only one entrance into a sod igloo, but the ingenious Eskimo has devised a skylight for his home. This polar window is made by sewing strips of dried seal gut together. The snow will blow clear of it permitting light to enter the igloo. These scenes are not significantly different than they were 3,000 years ago. The men who first settled here found a way to survive. His descendants may have tried other home building methods, but none have been able to pass the test of time. Some of the abandoned igloos are used as refrigerators. Without heat inside, all of these homes would become giant deep freezes. So, the quest for precious fuel never ends. Living over 100 miles from a forest, the natives must make long trips up and down the coast to forage driftwood along the shore. To gather this sled load of driftwood, called for a full day's work and a 40-mile trip with the dogs. Used sparingly, it's just enough to last his family for 2 days. With heavy winter upon this village, it might appear frozen and still. But, within these tiny mounds of earth are the courageous people who have changed this barren waste into a permanent home. They are the brave citizens of Tigara, ageless city of the Arctic.