Hakai Magazine

menu
Whaling captain Kunneak Nageak looks into his family’s ice cellar in Utqiaġvik
Whaling captain Kunneak Nageak looks into his family’s ice cellar in Utqiaġvik, Alaska, in June 2022. In the past, he’s had to use a jackhammer to remove ice from the cellar after it was damaged by rainwater. Photo by Marc Lester/Anchorage Daily News

Alaska Communities Try to Keep Their Whale Freezers Frozen

In the face of melting permafrost, Iñupiat communities in Alaska find new solutions to keeping traditional ice cellars cold.

Authored by

by Emily Schwing

Article body copy

This story was originally published by High Country News and is reproduced here as part of the Climate Desk collaboration.

For centuries, people in communities along the shores of the Chukchi and Beaufort Seas have stored foods such as whale meat and blubber, or muktuk, in siġḷuat—ice cellars dug into the perennially frozen ground. Doreen Leavitt, the director of natural resources for the Iñupiat Community of the Arctic Slope (ICAS) and a tribal member, says she can tell the difference between whale stored in an Iñupiaq ice cellar versus a conventional freezer. “It has a different taste to it,” she says. “It’s like it has a little zing to it,” adds ICAS tribal member Lars Nelson.

The ice cellars are also the right size for people’s needs. “You can put half a whale in them things. You can’t put half a whale in a little home freezer,” says ICAS executive director Morrie Lemen. ICAS serves as an umbrella tribal government for eight remote Alaska Native villages, including the largest community in the region, Utqiaġvik.

But in recent years, the icy walls of these underground food storage lockers have started to deteriorate due to a warming climate. Ice cellars throughout Alaska’s North Slope region are filling with meltwater, and some have collapsed. At least 1,000 people, out of a population of about 11,000, were considered food insecure in the North Slope Borough in 2020. Stabilizing ice cellars, according to ICAS staff, could help alleviate food insecurity concerns and maintain centuries of traditional and cultural practice. Now, they aim to use a simple and reliable technology to do just that.

The streets of Utqiaġvik reveal the region’s rich whaling culture. Many homes have boats parked outside. Residents store the wooden frames of traditional skin boats atop conex cargo containers, where they also stow much of the gear for the whaling season. And most people walk around town wearing jackets emblazoned with the name and flag of their whaling crew.

Whaling crew captains are required to have a siġḷuaq to store their harvest, Nelson says. “We could adapt to walk-in freezers, but it’s just not the same,” he adds. Just before whaling season, crew members prepare the cellar, cleaning it and putting fresh snow on the floor, readying it to receive the whale. “There’s also a spiritual component of the process; these are real concepts that drive the whaling captains every year,” Nelson says. “They say that if you don’t prepare your ice cellar properly, the whale will not gift itself to you.”

In 2021, ICAS applied for US $1.5-million in funding through the American Rescue Plan Act. Lemen and his staff wanted to use the money to keep the region’s siġḷuat from melting, so they launched a new project employing technology that the state and private companies use to stabilize permafrost in other contexts. Thermosiphons, which are essentially long metal pipes installed in the ground, use passive heat transfer to keep the ground cold. They contain a refrigerant with such a low boiling point that heat from the ground causes it to boil, forming vapor. In the heart of winter, when the air temperature is much colder than the ground temperature, the vapor rises, carrying heat with it. The heat then escapes through the top of the pipe, leaving the permafrost below cold and frozen.

whale cellar

Indigenous communities living on the shores of the Chukchi and Beaufort Seas have, for centuries, used underground ice cellars to store whale meat and blubber. With rising temperatures and melting permafrost, these traditional freezers are in peril, as shown by this collapsed entry to an ice cellar in Utqiaġvik, Alaska. Photo by Marc Lester/Anchorage Daily News

Thermosiphons have been used for decades to protect critical infrastructure in Alaska, including communications towers, buildings, and the state’s famed Trans-Alaska Pipeline System—anything that could collapse should the permafrost beneath it melt. The state’s Department of Transportation and Public Facilities has installed thermosiphons on roadways north of the Alaska Range. That positive track record was important to ICAS. “When we think something will probably work, that goes a long way with the elders and everyone,” Nelson says. “It’s a whole heck of a lot more assuring than an engineer’s report.” Both Nelson and Lemen say they have high expectations for the project, in part because of its simplicity. “Protecting our way of life is what it boils down to,” says Leavitt, who is a member of a large whaling family and has worked on a food sovereignty initiative for the Inuit Circumpolar Council-Alaska.

ICAS has asked families with a siġḷuaq to apply to participate in the project. Four thermosiphons will be installed around the perimeter of approved applicants’ ice cellars this spring, and a team of scientists from the University of Alaska Fairbanks will use a series of sensors to monitor how well they work over the coming year.

“It’s very tied to our culture, when you’re living in a coastal community, to have an ice cellar. If you’re a whaling captain especially, that’s very important,” says Leavitt. “It goes along with our sovereignty as well: we can take care of ourselves, we can store our foods, we are able to continue our cultural traditions to sustain us.”