In July, Etta received a letter from the Department of the Interior, Office of Indian Affairs, informing her that she was being transferred from Old Harbor to Kipnuk, a Yup’ik Eskimo village located on Kuskokwim Bay, one hundred miles southwest of Bethel.
Unaware that they would be leaving Old Harbor, Etta and Foster had made all the necessary arrangements to spend another year, including ordering a year’s supply of food. Careful planning was required when generating a list of food items that would be required for one year: thousands of cans, cases, barrels, and crates. Foster made the decision to leave the food supply in Old Harbor for the new teacher, and when they arrived in Bethel, just north of the mouth of the Kuskokwim River, forty miles upriver from the Bering Sea, Foster would pick up supplies there.
5
From Kodiak to Kipnuk
1932
In their six-week journey to Kipnuk, Etta and Foster would have interesting experiences, but they had a schedule and were anxious to reach their destination. Their house and school were not completed, and with winter fast approaching, it was urgent that both structures were built and furnished before snowfall. Etta and Foster looked forward to helping with the projects.
Kodiak
August 5, 1932
Dear Everybody:
We are still waiting for the Starr. It may leave Seward today, as we were informed in a telegram that it would, or it may not leave until the 8th, its regular day. Whenever it gets here, it will find us waiting. We have been here about a week now, and it is getting pretty tiresome.
We pine for the Starr, because we want to get settled. It will be much colder where we are going, but not as cold as the Yukon. However, we are going back to the land of the dog teams, and I think we are both glad. If the mail is more regular, we can stand a lot.
Well, I will keep you informed as to our adventures.
Lots of love to all,
Tetts
Nushagak, Alaska
August 30, 1932
Dear Everybody:
There will be an airplane here in a few days which will take this, and if I get a chance to write from Bethel, I will. Otherwise, don’t look for letters too often. I hope to goodness we find letters from you at Bethel. We left orders at Kodiak to have them forwarded. They will go by way of Anchorage and should have reached there long before we do. You can imagine how hungry I am for letters.
Lots of love to all,
Tetts
Bethel, Alaska
September 5, 1932
Dear Mother and Dump:
We are still a week from our journey’s end. The mail leaves tomorrow and I must get this in because it will be the last letter you will get from me for many months. The question of mail service is rather discouraging. They tell us it will be perhaps twice in the winter when the dog teams travel, and less in the summer, only when an occasional boat happens by. Incidentally, we haven’t had any letters since leaving Old Harbor, and unless a plane comes before we leave in three or four days, we won’t have any until after Christmas. It is a lesson in patience, isn’t it?
Bethel reminds me of Tanana—similar river, similar surroundings, and similar houses and people. There is a Moravian mission here, and as the Moravians originate in Bethlehem, Pennsylvania, they seem rather familiar. We went to church last night and might have been in any little church in any little town in the States. I counted twenty-five white people there and twice as many Eskimos. They are the one strange note, entirely different from the Indians of the Yukon and the Aleuts of Kodiak.
The Eskimos of Kipnuk are among the most primitive Natives of Alaska. They live in igloos that are little better than dugouts, just holes in the ground, and are extremely destitute and squalid. We are not expected to have school the first year, just get acquainted and do what we can in the homes. In fact, there could not be school because the building is not yet finished, hardly more than the walls and roof so far. It will be a wonderful building when finished, a duplicate of the one here in Bethel, and that is the finest school building in Alaska that I have seen so far, and I have seen a great many of them. We have met many who envy us the opportunity of going into a new community and building it up. Certainly there is the opportunity of making it what we will. There are no religious organizations working there now, but the Moravians are reaching out that way from this side, and the Roman Catholics from the other.
SS Tupper, 1930s. From Jeremy S. Snapp, Northwest Legacy: Sail, Steam and Motorships, page 202.
Our nearest neighbors, eighty to one hundred miles away, are a Moravian missionary and his wife at Kwigillingok. We met him last night, and he is a splendid fellow. They say his wife is just as fine. She is the government teacher. We may stop at their place on the way to Kipnuk. It will take us at least six days in a small boat.
Most of the teachers in this section have shortwave radio sets, have learned Morse code, and talk to each other over the radio. The superintendent broadcasts each day, by voice and by code. We are being fixed up with something suitable and will learn the code. Also, the army radio operator here broadcasts each day. Therefore, we are not really out of touch with the world. I suppose if you want to get a message to me, you could wire to the operator at Bethel to be relayed to me. He is very accommodating.
We have met some lovely people here. Many teachers are in from surrounding communities to meet the Tupper and get their freight [annual supplies]. We have been entertained at dinners, luncheons, and suppers. Last night after church we had a wild goose buffet supper. Such a jolly crowd. Tonight there is to be a Bridge party. The Tupper is still here, and this noon the captain invited all the white people of the town to lunch on board. It will be three or four days yet before we get away, and already the nights are frosty.
Don’t try to send any packages for Christmas. They will be held up in the Seattle post office, but do write as often as you can, and I will do the same.
Lots of love to all,
Tetts
THROUGH A TRADER, transportation was arranged to use a Columbia River boat. It was an open, wide-bottomed boat that had a gasoline engine. It also had a sail just in case anything happened to the engine. The freight was loaded onto the front of the palatial carrier, freight that included our clothing and personal belongings, school freight and supplies, and food supplies for a year.
When leaving Bethel, our friends had said, “You are going by water. Dress for it, just as you would in the winter.” We had plenty of fur clothing for the cold—fur boots, coats, caps, and mittens. I thought it was foolish to start in these outlandish getups from the hot town where everyone wore thin summer clothes. However, as soon as we were well started, I realized the wisdom of our good advisors.
The scenery was flat and uninteresting, there was nothing for me to do but sleep most of the time. Starting early in the morning when the tide was right, we ran smoothly down the winding, muddy Kuskokwim, sometimes passing Eskimo villages, fish camps, and tent villages. At the mouth of the river, the boat anchored to “wait for tide.” Everyone slept. I woke once to find that everything was dark, there was a pale moon, there was nothing to be seen but water, and no sound except the gentle lap, lap of waves against the sides of the boat. Later, I woke again because I seemed to be standing on my head. Sure enough, the boat was tilted over on its side to what seemed to me a very dangerous angle. I looked out to find no water around us. We were on a dry riverbed. I could have climbed out and walked all