Kipnuk, Alaska recovers a year after Typhoon Halong destruction

A Year After Typhoon, Remote Alaska Village Fights to Reclaim Its Home

It sounds like magic: in the tundra village of Kipnuk, Alaska, a construction crew uses air compressors to lift a building, gently raising it back onto its foundations. It’s a scene of defiance and resilience, a necessary act of recovery a year after remnants of Typhoon Halong swept through western Alaska, leaving devastation in their wake. According to a report from NPR, the storm destroyed infrastructure and displaced more than 1,000 people from Alaska Native villages.

Dozens were swept off their foundations, some with families still inside. A year later, the community is largely scattered across Alaska. Some residents find themselves living outside the very region their ancestors have called home for thousands of years. The immediate goal, as Eddie Chuckwuk, a local construction worker, told NPR, is simple but monumental: “We’re working as fast as possible as we can to get, like, the people back in town.”

Polls are set to open in the village of Kipnuk on Tuesday for the first time since the remnants of Typhoon Halong ravaged Western Alaska villages last fall.https://t.co/CujqLPCY3b

— https://x.com/alaskapublic/status/2113677013718388855

The Slow Grind of Recovery

State officials report that most people in Kipnuk didn’t have home or flood insurance. The rebuilding effort is now heavily dependent on funds from the Federal Emergency Management Agency. The state estimates these funds will be enough to make most homes livable by Thanksgiving, a process that involves replacing soaked insulation and repairing windows, doors, and roofs. But here’s the crucial distinction: “livable” is not the same as “restored.”

The FEMA funds, NPR explains, won’t be enough to return some of the most severely damaged homes to their original condition. The state is actively appealing for additional funding to build replacement housing. For the village’s children, whose world used to be the entire town, life in a larger city like Anchorage means a new set of dangers. They can no longer play freely; they have to watch out for cars.

FULL INTERVIEW: Rebuilding Alaska villages devastated by Halong expected to take years

Being displaced from Kipnuk has meant a separation from the cultural practices of hunting and gathering traditional food on the land. For Burt Paul’s family, this connection was so strong they traveled back to the village for the summer. Upriver on a lush tundra bluff, the sound of berries dropping into buckets was a small, defiant act of cultural continuity.

Burt Paul told NPR that after last fall’s destruction, he didn’t know if he’d ever see these native plants thriving again. When he saw food, grass, and fish returning, he said it “beats my mind.” Paul, who stayed behind to act as a community leader after the storm, noted that their usual camping and berry-picking trips, which used to last for days, were shortened, confined to the brief moments when the whole family could be in town together. Burt Paul also said, “We have to keep things going someway, somehow, no matter what situation we go through,” a statement that captures the village’s unwavering spirit.

Toll Lingers Among Elders

Leona Paul, who has been working as a cook to feed the construction crews, pointed to the trauma that lingers, especially among the elders. Leona Paul said, “I think it’s too overwhelming for them, especially the older people.” Even if the houses are made habitable, some may be too afraid to return to the place where they nearly lost everything.

Compounding this is the threat of climate change, which is making towns like Kipnuk increasingly vulnerable to future storms. The community has recognized this danger and, in a powerful act of self-determination, most residents want to rebuild the village somewhere safer. But here lies a critical and frustrating paradox: the funding they have received so far from FEMA can only be used to restore what was already there. Kipnuk hasn’t yet found the money—or the permission—to move entirely.

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Living in exile in bigger towns has been tough. People aren’t speaking as much Yugtun, their native language. They’re farther from loved ones. Leona Paul said, “I like being here. You’re free to do anything you want. In a city, you just can’t do whatever you want.”

Burt Paul, who has been a steady presence throughout the crisis, is not sure when his family, or his village, will all be back together again. The school, a central pillar of any community, has no timeline for reopening.