The North Slope of Arctic Alaska is both a beautiful and unforgiving place. For Teena and Jim Helmericks, this remote part of the world has always been home.

Where the Colville River meets the Arctic Ocean lies the four-mile-long unassuming Anachlik Island. The arrival of the summer sun here at 70 degrees north eventually brings an unbroken period of 24 hour light that stretches over almost three months. Although the day is long, the season is short - and there is much to be achieved before darkness sets in. Polar bears venture onto floes to hunt seals, migratory birds arrive from as far away as Antarctica to raise a new generation and caribou herds culminate their long spring migration across this vast tundra.

It’s not just Alaska’s animal residents who busily prepare for the winter ahead. For the Helmericks - year-round residents of Anachlik Island - summer used to mean hurriedly building their current home from scratch. Nowadays, it typically entails occasional subsistence hunting, preserving fresh produce and maintaining the residential buildings that once housed their children and families - all of whom have since left. As the only house on the coast for the more than 300 miles between Barrow to the west and Kaktovik to the east, the Helmericks can’t afford poor planning.

In contrast, winter here brings only a few hours of twilight each day and temperatures regularly below –30oC. Although these long dark winters are brutal, in some ways the Helmericks are freer. With the Arctic Ocean lying locked-tight in places for many months, travelling becomes an easier process. In the past using skis, sleds and husky dogs - and now snowmobiles - means large distances can be covered over frozen ocean and land.

The Helmericks largely live off their surroundings, fishing in the Colville River and hunting caribou on the tundra by their house. No part of the animal is wasted. Caribou skins were once used for winter clothing, just like the native Inupiat who have long called northern Alaska home. Other food supplies come in tins or are dried, either flown in or acquired during a 900 mile round-trip via boat and dirt track (along the Dalton Highway or “Haul Road” as it’s known locally) to Fairbanks in central Alaska. In the early days of their residency all supplies arrived once a year on a large turboprop plane, meaning meals had to be meticulously planned many months in advance.

Every morning at 6am Jim or Teena turns on the generator - the only means of providing power to their home. And so they live their daily lives desensitised to its background hum. Every few weeks they pump water from the lake into huge tanks in the house. With fresh water a scarce resource, showers are short and sweet, taken only every few days. No sewage system means the euphemistically named “honey bucket”, which sits under a wooden box with a hole and a toilet seat for cover, has to be emptied regularly too.

Last year we had the privilege of spending a few of days at the Helmericks’ homestead on the final stage of our Due North: Alaska expedition. By the time we met Teena and Jim, we had travelled over 1500 miles by kayak and bike from the southernmost point of mainland Alaska and here, as throughout our trip, we were treated to impeccable hospitality.

Those few summer days staying on Anachlik Island had a great impact on us. Witnessing the Helmericks’ strong connection to the land - their extensive knowledge of flora and fauna, changing weather conditions - and their deep appreciation of the value of their environment was humbling. In many societies, this kind of connection to nature; where things come from and where things go, is being lost. Dislocated from nature, we find ourselves removed from understanding and hence appreciating the true value of resources.

The Helmericks’ very survival depends on using what they have or can create wisely and not taking more than they need. These are people that live and breathe the Arctic and understand that the dependency on this wild environment to survive brings with it a requisite for respect. Perhaps we can all learn a thing or two from the Helmericks - by seeking to understand where our resources come from and where they go, and by taking only what we need.

Lessons learned from a lifetime in the Arctic