Alaska’s Race Against Time: A Native Community Salvages Ancient History from a Destructive Typhoon

The morning after a powerful storm unleashed its fury on western Alaska last month, Jimmy Jones was diligently collecting driftwood along the beach near Quinhagak, a small fishing village. As he reached for a sizable log, a painted wooden face unexpectedly peered up at him from the sand. For a fleeting moment, he feared he had stumbled upon human remains, but a closer look confirmed it was an intricately carved wooden mask, its surface still bearing delicate traces of ancient paint.

This striking discovery was a direct consequence of Typhoon Halong’s devastating passage. The storm, which tragically claimed at least one life and forced hundreds from their flooded homes across the region, also wreaked havoc on an archaeological treasure trove. Thousands of artifacts, some dating back an astonishing 600 years, were violently swept from the Nunalleq site, located just three miles south of the village. These invaluable pieces of history belonged to the ancestors of the Yup’ik people who call Quinhagak home today.

Beyond the immediate human impact, the typhoon dramatically reshaped the coastline, devouring 60 feet of shoreline in a single night and laying waste to the ancient dig site. In the frantic days that followed, the residents of Quinhagak sprang into action, rushing to rescue the deluge of artifacts washing ashore.

Western Alaska’s frozen coastal regions are known to harbor hundreds of ancient village sites, where permafrost acts as a natural preservative, safeguarding objects for centuries. However, archaeological excavation in these sacred areas is typically rare. Initially, many of Quinhagak’s elders expressed reservations, viewing any disturbance of the site, which includes human remains, as a profound breach of their cultural values.

Yet, the urgency of the situation was undeniable. Warren Jones, Jimmy Jones’ father and the chief executive of Qanirtuuq, the corporation representing the tribe’s land interests, passionately articulated the need for action. He emphasized that the artifacts were “waiting for us to tell their story” and underscored the responsibility to future generations. “We have to do this for the future generation, they need to know where each and every one of us came from,” he implored, convincing the community to support the recovery. “If we don’t, all these artifacts are going to be washed out.”

The race to save these irreplaceable artifacts is made even more critical by the accelerating effects of climate change in the Arctic. As global temperatures rise and sea levels climb, natural erosion of shorelines intensifies, even without catastrophic events like typhoons. The delayed formation of sea ice each year leaves the coast more exposed to destructive waves for longer periods. Furthermore, the thawing of permafrost, the region’s ancient frozen soil, is causing buried objects to decompose rapidly. This phenomenon has led archaeologists in Greenland to observe animal and human skeletons degrading into what they’ve termed “butter bone.”

Rick Thoman, a climate specialist at the University of Alaska, Fairbanks, notes that the warming climate may directly contribute to the increasing frequency of such extreme weather events. Before 2022, only one typhoon had been reliably recorded tracking far enough north to reach the Arctic. In recent years, that number has jumped to three, signaling a troubling new trend.

Preserving History

The Nunalleq archaeological dig officially commenced in 2009, a few years after the elder Warren Jones contacted Richard Knecht, a renowned archaeologist from the University of Aberdeen in Scotland known for his collaborative approach with Alaskan Indigenous communities.

Today, this small community is home to what is arguably the world’s most extensive collection of Yup’ik artifacts, with nearly 200,000 items meticulously preserved within a cultural center that functions as both an archaeology lab and a museum. Dr. Knecht, though retired from the university, continues to spearhead the effort. He recounts witnessing coastal erosion destroy other Indigenous heritage sites, such as a dig near Kodiak, Alaska, which was lost to rising sea levels after nearly two decades of study in the early 2000s.

Despite his experience, the sheer scale of the damage to Nunalleq last month left him speechless. When he arrived days after the storm, the community’s recovery efforts were already in full swing, with dozens of residents tirelessly rescuing artifacts by the boxful.

Many recovered artifacts, such as wooden bowls, masks, dolls, and serving spoons, were remarkably intact. Other finds included fragments of kayak paddles, arrow shafts, and even the soles of a child’s sealskin boots. These precious objects undergo a careful process of preservation, drying, cataloging, and storage within the town’s museum, a modest room now overflowing with boxes and drawers.

Grace Hill, a respected elder in Quinhagak and president of the tribal corporation’s board, highlights the community’s central role in the excavation and preservation. The commitment to keep all artifacts within the town was a pivotal reason for her support. “Before, many of our objects were taken and not returned to us because there was no way to preserve them here,” Ms. Hill explained. Now, Quinhagak residents are deeply involved at every stage, a fact she proudly states is “the best part.”

Looking to the Future

Dora Strunk, a retired teacher and volunteer director of the museum, believes that today’s Quinhagak youth will grow up with a profound connection to their history—a connection largely absent for previous generations. The museum has evolved into a vibrant cultural education hub, regularly hosting field trips and traditional crafting workshops. “Some of them have their mouths wide open when they first open a drawer,” she recounted. “I tell them, these are from your ancestors.”

Many of the artifacts resonate deeply with modern Yup’ik culture. Dolls, predating European contact, bear a striking resemblance to those Ms. Strunk’s mother once carved. The collection also includes ancient prototypes of contemporary tools, such as the uluaq, a distinctive fan-shaped knife.

The ongoing dig has also brought to light tangible evidence of a long-told battle at Nunalleq, transforming legend into reality. John Smith, another tribal elder, collaborates with Dr. Knecht’s team, providing oral histories that illuminate the context of the unearthed objects. He has also skillfully created numerous replicas of the artifacts, bridging the past with the present.

Dr. Knecht estimates that over a thousand artifacts have been salvaged since the typhoon struck. However, he believes as many as 10,000 more remain on the beach, now buried under a recent snowfall and frozen solid in the sand. Without a significant warming trend, recovery efforts may have to be suspended until spring.

Even as the sea threatens to erase history, it also unearths new marvels. Just a few miles away, wooden beams from an ancient house—potentially even older than those at Nunalleq—are now visible, exposed by the storm-ravaged permafrost. Soon, the race to preserve artifacts from this new discovery will likely begin anew.

Across the Arctic, the pressures of climate change relentlessly intensify. Beyond extreme storms and erosion, the ongoing thaw of permafrost causes the ground to destabilize, warping roads and tilting buildings. Dr. Knecht even noted that the museum itself appears slightly askew, a silent testament to the changing landscape.

For many Arctic communities, including Quinhagak, the conversation about relocation is constant and fraught with difficulty. Although Quinhagak largely escaped the severe devastation suffered by neighboring villages like Kipnuk and Kwigillingok, several homes were flooded. The storm surge also came perilously close to breaching the sewage lagoon and damaging critical fuel tanks, posing a dire threat to the community’s infrastructure.

Ms. Hill described the typhoon as a “wake-up call.” Her deepest hope now is for Quinhagak to relocate to higher ground, driven by the desire to safeguard their culture. “The greatest thing I want is to preserve all the things we have, as much as possible,” she affirmed, echoing the community’s unwavering commitment to their heritage in the face of a rapidly changing world.