An otter hunters adventure with the storm spirit in the Bering Sea.
THE OTTER HUNTER AND THE STORM SPIRIT
(as told five thousand years ago in the Aleutian Islands of Alaska)
Hunter: Come close. I have a story to tell about how the storm spirit tried to take me away.
It was a clear and cold day with just a slight breeze and some early morning fog hanging on the horizon. I left the warmth of my underground dwelling in Unalaska and walked down the rocky beach to the sea. I had with me what food I would need for the day and my hunting weapons.
I climbed into my kayak and started paddling for the kelp bed at Nateekin Bay to hunt the otter. It was a long ways but I was prepared. I wore my seal skin parka to help protect me from the ocean spray and my wooden hunting visor to protect my eyes from the suns glare. The sea was smooth except for deep swells that hid the land from my sight when I was at the bottom of the wave, and back in view again when at the top. I paddled hard and non-stop seeing only a few birds, seals, and two whales. Eagles flying high above looked down on me wondering where I was going.
At long last I could see the kelp bed looming up ahead, rolling back and forth to the motions of the waves and tide. The kelp bed at Nateekin Bay was large and many otter lived there. I thought one of them will be mine this day. I approached the kelp bed slowly and stopped paddling so that the only sound was soft waves quietly sloshing against the sides of my kayak. I reached back for my hunting board and darts and became one with sea and the kelp bed itself and knew the otter would surface if I had patience.
The storm spirit was close by and knew I was there. He crept up on me silently, and then attacked me without warning. The sea became a wild and noisy place with the kelp thrashing wildly in the wind and waves. My kayak dug deep into the sea’s depth for protection from the wrath of the storm spirits icy breath. The wind, cold rain, and fog covered me as black menacing clouds came down on me and took my breath away. My kayak was bending from the weight of the sky and I could hear my ancestors calling me. Their voices echoed over the roar of the storm. They were calling to me to give in to the storm spirit and join them this day.
Made of driftwood and stretched seal skins, my kayak held fast and would not go under the violent sea. The spirit wind finally lost interest in me, and the voices of my ancestors slowly faded back into the depths of the sea. I turned for home knowing the otter was safe for another day and I would join my ancestors another time.
Hunter: Some days when we take to the seas we are stronger than the storm spirit.
Hal Granum
Hal is the author of the book “The Great Eagle Spirit”. The story for young readers is about a young Alaskan boy caught in a severe storm in the Bering Sea. He is rescued by his ancestors and learns the importance of his ancestry.
Part Three in the Mu Series - Sarah Thompson reluctantly abandons her desperate search for her soul mate on Maui and returns to her Montana hometown. Her brother has had a terrible accident...
