Tales from Alaska - Death by Black Fly

"Barbara Jean Barton, 27, of Three Rivers, Michigan, passed away suddenly on June 21, 1985 in Prince William Sound, Alaska. Ms. Barton was in the wilderness studying marine mammals when she choked on a black fly..."

This was the vision in my mind as I stood gasping for breath on an island in Prince William Sound, Alaska.

The School for Field Studies is a wonderful program for students to gain valuable field experience in their chosen area of study. I signed up for the Marine Mammal Biology course in Alaska, and spent one month in the wilderness, kayaking over 190 ocean miles along the most beautiful coastline I had ever seen. There were glaciers so blue they made you cry. Bald eagles, sea otters, seals, and dolphins kept us company as we paddled our two-person ocean kayaks through the frigid waters. We departed from Whittier and for 9 days we hugged the shoreline, making our way to a base camp in Icy Fjord. We were headed toward a remote spot full of harbor seals, the subjects of our study.

We followed a code of low/no impact camping, and thus had certain regimes that were to be followed. We were instructed on how to properly use toilet paper and were rationed 3 squares per visit. We were instructed where to poo (in the intertidal zone) and to put our used toilet paper in plastic bags, then during evening campfires we had a group "used toilet paper" burn. Fun.

Our daily routine on the way to base camp was this. We were assigned partners for paddling and these rotated every 2 or 3 days. One pair was assigned to cook for the day. We would pack up camp and leave early in the morning after breakfast, have a stop a few hours later, then land on a suitable beach for lunch. After eating kippers, crackers, and peanut butter, some folks would lounge around resting, others might play a game of hackey sack. Too soon it would be time to pack up and move on to our next camp, and all nine kayaks would be packed up and pushed out into the ocean to begin their glide.

One day we stopped at an incredible island that was most definitely a rainforest. Every plant was oversized, and I expected a giant brontosaurus to appear at any minute. Along one path was a blanket of brilliant green moss draped over a smooth boulder, flowing as though it thought itself an ocean wave. There were ferns over four feet tall, plants I didn't know whose leaves were as big as my torso. It was spectacular.

As we were walking along exploring this beautiful place, I inhaled a black fly through my mouth. Black flies are tiny little beasts that bite like the dickens. Most of our trip we wore head nets to protect ourselves against them, but for some reason on that lunch break I didn't have mine on. This little black fly lodged itself somewhere down my throat in such a way that everything required to cough or breathe was paralyzed. I stood there choking, but not really choking, for that was frozen, too. I grabbed my throat and began to realize that I might choke to death. It was in that moment the obituary ran through my mind. No, I couldn't have died being mauled by a grizzly, or ripped to shreds by one of the killer whales we saw, I had to die from inhaling a black fly.

One of the co-leaders of the trip happened to glance my way and noticed I was turning a beautiful shade of blue. She quickly ran over and was ready to administer the Heimlich maneuver when I vomited up the little black fly. I gasped for air and dropped to my knees, eyes watering and heart pounding. And then I started to laugh. And laugh. And laugh.

I thanked my lucky stars that day that I didn't have to leave this world known as the girl who died by black fly. I wore my ugly green head net every time I was on land from that day forward. Except for the day I got hypothermia, but that is another story for another day.