Imagine entire villages forced to flee their homes with just a single bag, leaving behind everything they know. This is the heartbreaking reality for hundreds of Alaskans after a devastating storm ravaged Western Alaska, triggering one of the largest mass evacuations in the state's recent history. But here's where it gets even more harrowing: this isn't just about damaged homes and displaced families; it's about a community grappling with loss, uncertainty, and the daunting task of rebuilding.
On Wednesday, residents of Kipnuk, a Yup’ik village of about 700 near the Bering Sea coast, were abruptly told to evacuate after their homes were rendered uninhabitable by the catastrophic storm that pummeled the Yukon-Kuskokwim region over the weekend. A similar scene unfolded in Kwigillingok, another Yup’ik village of roughly 400 residents, where officials confirmed a mass evacuation that same night.
In what officials are calling “one of the most significant airlift efforts in Alaska’s disaster response history,” the Alaska National Guard, alongside other agencies, mobilized helicopters and even a massive C-17 Globemaster III military transport plane to relocate over 300 people to shelters in Bethel and Anchorage, hundreds of miles away. These shelters, managed by organizations like the American Red Cross, provided evacuees with beds, food, emergency supplies, emotional support, and health services.
But this is the part most people miss: the storm didn’t just destroy homes—it shattered lives. At least one person has died, and two remain missing in Kwigillingok. Ella Mae Kashatok, 67, was found on Monday, while Vernon Pavil, 71, and Chester Kashatok, 41, are still unaccounted for. Their house broke loose during record tidal surges and floated toward the Bering Sea, prompting a search that spanned 88 square miles. Despite the suspension of the active search by military aircraft, local volunteers and public safety officers continue their tireless efforts using drag bars, sonar equipment, and coordinated strategies.
The situation in Kipnuk was equally dire. Up to 600 residents had been sheltering in the local school for several nights, but conditions rapidly deteriorated. By Wednesday, officials declared the school unsafe and ordered a mandatory evacuation, leaving many residents in tears. “So many tears. Just crying their eyes out. I understand their pain and frustration, but this is for their own safety,” said Buggy Carl, a Kipnuk resident and emergency response official, in a heartfelt video update.
Here’s where it gets controversial: while the state prioritized human evacuation, the fate of pets left behind sparked outrage. Residents were forced to abandon their animals, prompting creative rescue efforts. Bethel Friends of Canines, for instance, coordinated with teachers in Kipnuk to transport pets out of the village using private pilots and even boats to nearby communities like Chefornak. Is it fair to ask people to leave their beloved pets behind in such a crisis? Shouldn’t animal rescue be an integral part of disaster response plans?
As of Wednesday night, sheltering operations expanded beyond Bethel, which was nearing capacity. Hundreds of survivors were relocated to safer shelters outside the region, with support from tribal organizations, the Yukon-Kuskokwim Health Corporation, and the Association of Village Council Presidents. The goal, according to Jeremy Zidek of the Alaska Division of Homeland Security and Emergency Management, is to make less-damaged homes livable before winter arrives. “We’re preparing to provide intermediate and long-term shelter for those who cannot return home soon,” he said.
Organizations like the American Red Cross, World Central Kitchen, and the Salvation Army have stepped in, bringing additional staff and resources to assist with sheltering, feeding, and mass care needs. Mutual aid from states like Colorado, Virginia, and Texas has also been crucial in the response effort.
Yet, amidst the chaos, one question lingers: How can we better prepare for such disasters in remote, vulnerable communities? As the people of Kipnuk and Kwigillingok begin to rebuild, their story serves as a stark reminder of the fragility of life in the face of nature’s fury. What do you think? Should disaster response plans include more comprehensive measures for both humans and animals? Share your thoughts in the comments below.
