The Bettles Legend

Curtains of pastel lights, with its flood of greens and a dash of pink, dance over an old log cabin that lies in the shadow of the north-pole. This cabin is nestled next to a creek in a remote valley in the Brooks Range. The old prospector has worked this creek nigh on to thirty years now with his wife, Nancy, of forty years. He has a son and a daughter who have since moved on to jobs in the big city; in this case, Fairbanks, Alaska.

           It is three days before Christmas, the sun has been down for a month, and it won’t be back up for another four weeks. The temperature hasn’t been above forty-below for quite a spell now. The moon is up, and with the white ground covering of power snow, their world is lit up like a cloudy summer’s day.

While Ule and Nancy were enjoying a meal of beaver-tail fried in bear grease and canned corn, they got a message from their daughter, over the radio. Ule had wrapped one end of a wire to the battery radio’s antenna and the other end was fastened to the top of a tall spruce next to his cabin. They needed every inch of extra antenna they could get if they were to receive the AM broadcast from Fairbanks.

There was only one channel this far north, the AM channel KFAR. It was established in 1939 by Augie Hiebert in Fairbanks, Alaska. He broadcasted the news and music, and at the dinner hour, it was personal news to people in the bush that had no other means to communicate to the outside world. He called this segment, the Tundra Topics.

Old Ule feathered the dial. It crackled and wined with static air across miles of dark tundra. And then he found that familiar voice. “Hello out there, Augie here. It's time for tonight’s Tundra Topics.” There was a pause while he picked up the first message.

           “To Mr. O in Eagle from JR, ‘Please shovel the snow off my roof.’

           “And to Brenda, ‘I’ll be in late tomorrow night, I love you, John.’

           “And to Jan and Seymour, from Anchorage, ‘Are you there yet?’

           “To Ule and Nancy, ‘Hi mom, having contractions, am sending a plane to Bettles for you. The kids will be one it. Have dad baby-sit. The kids are excited to see their grandfather and I am excited to see you. Baby due any time now; Love you. Kiss dad for me.’” Augie paused. “Well congratulation, Nancy and Ule.”

           He then picked up and another note and continued his vital broadcasts.

By moon-up the next day, Ule had the sled loaded and hooked up to the snow machine. The motor was running and coughing white smoke out its exhaust. It was just a little after midnight. The sun would not be up for another three and a half weeks.

           Nancy closed the cabin door and bolted it. She pulled her parka hood over her head and put on her beaver mittens. Only her eyes and a pink nose could be seen through to wolf trim around the hood. She quickly hopped on the Skidoo and put her arms around Ule.

           “Did you blow out all the candles?” he asked.

           “You worry worse than an old woman!”

           “I’ll take that as a, yes.” He then squeezed the throttle on the handlebars and they were off.

           It was a four-hour trip to Bettles, if you didn’t stop or dawdle, which does take the fun right out of it. But this trip involved a pregnant woman.

           When they reached the small town, they went straight to the post office. Stiff and cold they went inside and warmed up in front of the woodstove. Ule poured two cups of coffee and handed one to Nancy. He sipped his, while she held her cup with both hands for warmth. Once they were sufficiently thawed, Nancy went to use the payphone to call her daughter; it was the only phone in town. And Ule went to check the mail. His package from Sears and Roebucks had finally arrived.

           When Nancy got off the phone, she joined her husband on a seat in front of the potbellied stove, she pointed. “What is that?”

           Ule gave his wife a mischievous grin and then picked up the package. It was heavy. “Well Nancy,” he said and then pretended to read the shipping label. “Why it says here, it is from you, and it’s for your handsome husband, and it says, Merry Christmas.” He looked up. “Thank you honey, you shouldn’t have.”

            She smiled and countered. “The present you got for me came the other day. I should scold you for spending so much money on me.”

           Ule studied his wife’s eyes looking for a hint of a lie.

           The sound of the bush plane got their attention. It was circling the town as it looked for the direction the wind-sock was pointing. It was carrying precious cargo.

“Grandfather,” cried Samantha as she climbed off the plane. She was the oldest, and ten years of age. She had two younger brothers. Robert was eight and Ulysses was five. The youngest was named after his grandfather. Grandpa called them, Sam, Robbie, and Useless.

           “Grandfather,” she came running up to Ule dragging little Useless with her. Ule stooped down and scooped up the two kids, one in each arm. Robbie ran to his grandmother.

           Grandma Nancy quickly hugged and kissed her grandchildren and then gave Ule a peck on the cheek. It was in public. Ule blushed and said, “You’re going to miss your plane, Nancy.”

           Nancy grinned and added a quick hug and then she scurried to the plane.

           Ule gathered his flock and put them in the sled. He put Useless between his brother and Sam for extra warmth. The temperature was now hovering around sixty below. He stuffed extra blankets around the young children and then covered the long sled with a canvas tarp. The moon was already past its high point. He still had plenty of time.

           He gave a quick yank on the starter rope and the Skidoo came to life with a loud scream. Ule straddled the seat, ducked his head behind the small windshield, and throttled her up. In an instant, he was roaring down the Koyukuk River. He was headed home.

           The river snaked west and would eventually join the mighty Yukon River, but Ule would turn north in about a half an hour and follow the trail across the muskeg until he got to the Brooks Range. And then up the valley and the lone cabin he called home.

           He found the trail north. Everything was going as planned and he relaxed. They should be home in a couple of hours. Ule was excited and began day-dreaming about another grandchild, which can be deadly in this unforgiving country.

           He failed to feel that the temperature rising. He failed to see the thick dark cloud chasing him from the south. He failed to notice the moon was dimming and that the stars had disappeared.

           Ule jerked awake when he noticed light snow had filled the sky. “God damn,” he cursed, and then, Oh God,” he prayed. He followed the trail as the dark snow-cloud, blocked out every moonbeam and every twinkle from the sky. And then it snowed, and snowed hard. It became a full-fledged blizzard, with a vengeance.

           “Oh God, where am I?” Ule was terrified. He let go of the throttle and the machine slowed to a stop.

           “Grandpa?” the sound was mixed with the swirling snow and almost lost.

           “Yes, Sam.” Ule calmed.

           “Useless has to pee.”

           The distraction helped. The snow machine was idling and with headlamp reflecting off the thick, falling snow, it was blinding. The trail was completely gone.

           Ule removed the tarp and lifted the five-year-old to the loose snow where the boy could relieve himself out of the wind. Ule stooped down and helped to block the wind and boy’s little spout.

           “Grandpa, are we lost?”

           “No, Sam. I know where we are at,” give or take a mile. He forced a confident smile. We are stuck between ice and a cold spot. He would figure something out.

           “Grandpa,” said Robbie as he crawled out of the sled. “I smell smoke.”

           Ule sniffed the air. “I don’t smell...”

 “Yes,” cried Sam. “I smell it too.”

           A little hope flooded Ule’s stomach and the ache stopped. “Point to it.” Both Sam and Robbie pointed the same direction. He quickly loaded his grandchildren on the snow machine and followed the fingers.

           Before long the tundra turned into scrub spruce and then it thickened into tall spruce trees. The trees blocked the wind and a trail opened up in front of him. He motored on.

           Suddenly a twinkle caught his eye. It was a lantern hanging on a nail by a cabin door. The cabin was small and had over four-foot of snow on its roof. It had a window made from clear-glass bottles cemented together. The front door was covered by a small porch that was full of firewood.

           When Ule pulled up to the front of the cabin, an old woman with white hair and wearing a thick full dress, opened the door. She had round rosy cheeks and a warm smile. Ule shut off the noisy machine and stared speechlessly.

           “Hurry, come in before you catch your death.” Her voice was as sweet as her face. “Quickly, we have been expecting you.”

           “Yes, mam.” Ule put a boy in each arm and followed Sam inside. Once inside they pealed out of their parkas and then snuggled up close to the woodstove, and warmed.

           An old man was at the woodstove. He was stuffing it full of split spruce logs. His head was as smooth and as round as a melon, and he had a full beard that was as white as his wife’s hair. They both were round and healthy-looking.

           The inside of the cabin was warm, clean, and smelled like…like home. The flat-iron wood-stove had a tin box that rested on the back and against the smokestack. It was an oven and it was baking something that smelled awfully good. There was a four-posted bed in one back corner and cupboards on the other side. A large round table, made of spruce, sat in the middle of the cabin; and two rocking chairs, covered in quilts, were in front of the woodstove. The place was lit up with oil lanterns that had a strange, sweet aroma.

           When the old man decided that he couldn’t get another stick in the stove, he closed the metal door and stood up.

           “Well, Merry Christmas. My name is Gordy and the misses is, Sophie. Her pa was Russian, but she speaks English, good. Welcome.” He reached for a tall pot with a side handle.

           “Say you look like you could use a cup of coffee.”

           “Yes please, thank you,” said Ule. He was still standing at the cabin door. While Gordy poured the coffee, Ule took off his parka and hung it on a peg over a bench. There were already two other parkas perched on pegs. They were made from thick polar bear hides and trimmed in red fox. They were stunning. He had never seen one like them before. Under the white parkas were two pairs of handsomely-stitched caribou-mukluks.

           Ule then joined Gordy and shook his hand. It was warm and firm. “And a very Merry Christmas to you, Gordy. My name is Ulysses. People call me Ule. And these young-ins are my grandchildren. This is Samantha, and Robert, and of course, little Ulysses. We call him Useless.”

           “How can you call him Useless,” scolded Sophie. “He is such a sweet boy.”

           “But he likes it,” defended Sam. “Besides, that is how he pronounces it.”

           Sophie laughed and then picked up a potholder and went to the tin oven. “Very well then, Mr. Useless,” she opened the tin door, “How would like a ginger-bread cookie?”

           The grandchildren quickly gathered around her.

           Ule then joined Gordy at the table and sat across from him. Gordy pulled a flask from his pocket. He poured a little in each coffee cup and winked at Ule.

           Ule nodded and his eyes laughed.

           “Gordy, have you lived here long?”

           “Yep, long time now.”

            “I have a cabin north of here; almost forty years now. And it’s funny that we have never met.”

           Gordy just smiled. “It’s a big country; and I have seen you a couple of times.” He then added a little more Jack Daniels to the coffee.

That evening they feasted on baked moose heart, spruce hen, wild cranberries, potatoes, and for dessert, a kind-of ice-cream made with blueberries, a little bear fat, and whipped to a frenzy with fresh snow. After the heavy meal, everyone joined hands and sang Silent Night.

           There was a small spruce tree proudly decorated with popcorn strings, paper snowflakes, and beautifully carved animals as ornaments, in the corner by the door. The tree was simple, yet quite elegant.

           When they finished singing, Gordy took the boys to the tree and showed them the carvings that he had carved. “Pick one, lads.” He said with a twinkle in his eye.

           Robbie chose a husky.

           “Excellent choice, my boy. That one’s Togo. He was the lead dog that ran the life-saving serum most of the way to Nome. Balto got all the credit, even though he only ran the last few miles as lead dog.”

           Useless pointed to the top of the tree at a grizzly bear.

           Gordy removed it. “He’s the top of the food chain, son. Good choice.”

           Sophia dug around a chest at the foot of the bed and pulled out an Eskimo doll. “Here child, “she said as she handed it to Sam. “This used to belong to our daughter, Marguerite. She is grown now and moved away.”

           “Thank you,” gasped Sam, “Thank you.” She clutched it to her chest. “I shall call her Maggie.”

That night they slept like hibernating bears. Ule woke up to the sound of a lone wolf howling at the moon. That meant the storm was over, and the light-giving moon was out.

           After a hearty breakfast of sourdough pancakes, Ule could not thank his hosts enough. The Skidoo fired off on the first pull, and while the engine warmed, he tucked his grandchildren in the sled. As he straddled the snow machine, he hollered over to Gordy. “Your wife, she said she was expecting us, how did she know?”

           Gordy shrugged his shoulders, “She gets these feelings sometimes.” He grinned and waved. “You take care.”

           When Ule got home, he built a hot fire in his stove while the boys brought in enough firewood for the night. Sam made coffee and hot chocolate. It was Christmas Eve and time to turn on the radio and find out if they had a little brother. “Or a sister,” said Sam.

The next time that Ule went to the post office, he asked about the old couple that lived about an hour north-west of here. “I never got their last name. Only, Gordy and Sophia, their first names.”

           A grizzled old sourdough coughed up a laugh. “Sounds like your talk-in about Gordon Bettles and his wife Sophie. He was the first that prospected and then settled here. He opened the first mercantile. He grubstaked a lot of prospectors. So they named the town after him. He’s been dead nigh on fifty years, now.” The old storyteller paused to spit into a spittoon.

           The post office was deathly quiet. “Yep,” he continued, “a couple years back, I done got lost in a blizzard and he saved my life.”

           He spit again and then put on his parka, and left without saying anything more.

Author’s note:

           When I lived in Alaska, I remember being entertained by these radio broadcasts. The one I listened to was called ‘the Bush Pipeline.’ I found out later that these broadcasts were illegal. The law says broadcasting is defined as ‘one to many, not one to one.’

           The stations could have lost their license. But Alaskans are ornery and stubborn, kind of like glaciers, and they continued this service to fellow Alaskans.

           A few years ago, Senator Ted Stevens, who I had met once, explained to the chairman of the FCC that these broadcasts were a public service. Each agreed and decided to change the law. But alas it never happened. Although, now these important messages are called, ‘the Stevens Exemption.’

On a lighter note:

           I have visited many cabins and slept in a few, in winter. I usually shared the kitchen corned with a couple of resident mice. I named them Tom and Jerry. And at night, you do have the tendency to get up regularly to feed the stove.

           My first residence in Alaska was a small trailer that was a couple of miles off a maintained road. I had to snowmachine in that winter. Sometimes it was fun.

           This is my third story about this fictional family. I write from experience and from the heart. And these stories take me back to my home in Alaska.