On Sunday, October 19, 2025, Harvey and Xenia Dock, along with their children, made the heart-wrenching decision to leave their home in Nightmute, Alaska. The family boarded a series of planes, joining hundreds of others from the Yukon-Kuskokwim Delta who were forced to evacuate after a catastrophic storm—remnants of former Typhoon Halong—swept through the region a week earlier. While Nightmute had not been under a mandatory mass evacuation like the nearby village of Kipnuk, mounting concerns about contamination from overtopped sewer lagoons and spilled fuel left the Docks feeling they had no choice but to seek safety elsewhere.
"It was the hardest decision I had to make," Harvey Dock reflected, taking a cigarette break outside the Egan Center in downtown Anchorage on Monday. "It was my decision for the safety of my wife, my children. There could be contamination. You don't know what kind of pollution came from those tanks." According to Anchorage Daily News, the Dock family spent Sunday night on cots at the Egan Center, surrounded by more than 100 other evacuees, all adjusting to the uncertainty that lay ahead.
As of midnight Monday, about 250 people remained in mass shelters across Anchorage and Bethel, with 75 staying at the Alaska Airlines Center, 168 at the Egan Center, and 16 in Bethel, according to the American Red Cross. This number represented less than half of the roughly 630 people who had been evacuated as of Sunday, October 19. Many others found refuge with family or friends, secured private housing, or moved into medical accommodations. The Red Cross spokesperson, Taylar Sausen, acknowledged the discomfort of mass shelters, describing them as "a temporary solution" while organizations work to transition families into more comfortable, longer-term housing such as hotel rooms, rental homes, or family placements.
Meanwhile, in the bustling corridors outside the Alaska Airlines Center, children played with paper airplanes and leapt into piles of autumn leaves, trying to find moments of joy amidst upheaval. Inside, conversations among adults centered on the daunting future of villages like Kipnuk. The devastation caused by Typhoon Halong had left many questioning the safety of returning to low-lying areas prone to flooding. Kipnuk evacuee Alexie Stone told KTUU that village leaders were "talking about long-term housing, mid-term housing, and some relocation, and they've been talking about putting elders in housing." The possibility of relocating the entire village was on the table.
Julia Stone, another Kipnuk evacuee, echoed these concerns: "Right now, it's messed up, low places they tend to be bad, you know? What if the next storm hits? And it's worse, and we'll have to relocate anyway, because it's not good right in that spot where you're at." Despite the uncertainty, the Stones expressed deep gratitude for the support received. "I would like to thank the Red Cross for helping us, because the Red Cross has been there the whole time, a hundred percent, and making sure that we're safe," Julia said.
Generosity from across Alaska continued to pour in, with donations of clothing and other necessities helping to sustain those displaced. Yet, the need remained pressing. As Julia Stone noted, supplies were still desperately needed. The resilience of the evacuees was palpable, with many embracing the motto of being "Kipnuk strong" as they navigated the challenges of displacement and recovery.
Back in Bethel, a major airlift operation had successfully evacuated 659 people to Anchorage by Sunday evening, according to the Alaska National Guard. The Guard announced plans to increase its personnel in Bethel from about 115 to 200 in the coming days, aiming to clear debris, deliver equipment and fuel, and assist with preparations before the onset of winter. The Yukon-Kuskokwim Health Corporation also prioritized delivering supplies, repairing damaged homes and infrastructure, and supporting community cleanup efforts.
The upheaval extended into the school system as well. As of Monday, October 20, 65 students from the affected villages began classes in Anchorage schools, including College Gate Elementary School’s Yup’ik immersion program, the Alaska Native Cultural Charter School, Wendler Middle School, Bettye Davis East Anchorage High School, and King Tech High School. The Anchorage School District anticipated enrolling as many as 200 students displaced by the storm, with Superintendent Jharrett Bryantt emphasizing efforts to keep students together in cohorts to provide stability and maintain cultural connections. Bryantt also highlighted the district’s role in providing transportation, translation services, and supplies to help families adjust.
District spokesperson Corey Allen Young explained that the selected sites for displaced students were chosen "to help students remain connected to familiar faces, peers, and educators, and to ensure families can stay together whenever possible." Staff from migrant education, Indigenous education, immersion programs, health services, mental health services, and transportation all joined forces to support the transition, aiming to "provide stability, care, and cultural connection that honors every student."
For the Dock family, the transition was anything but easy. Their eldest daughter, 15, struggled with the move, telling her mother she wished she had stayed in Nightmute. Xenia Dock described how, back home, the family would be processing burbot—"lush fish"—and preparing to visit family in Kipnuk for Halloween. Now, Anchorage was their temporary home, and the wait for more permanent housing continued. Harvey Dock estimated it could take 18 months or more to rebuild in Nightmute, and he voiced a common sentiment among rural Alaskans suddenly thrust into city life: "I don't like the traffic, to tell you the truth."
Others, like Bruce Igkurak from Kwigillingok, faced the grim reality of returning to homes that had floated off their foundations and were now filled with deep mud. Igkurak, who stayed behind to help others evacuate, described the pain of leaving: "We live off the land, most of us. It's hard to leave that area." Still, he remained hopeful about returning to help with cleanup and rebuilding, saying, "I'm not sure who wants to go back, but we'll make it a home, someplace they can come back to."
State officials announced that some displaced residents could potentially return home in as little as three weeks, though this news had not yet reached all evacuees. For many, the question of whether to return or relocate loomed large, especially given the vulnerability of their villages to future storms. Yet, amid the uncertainty, a spirit of gratitude and resilience persisted, sustained by the unwavering support of organizations, volunteers, and fellow Alaskans.
As families like the Docks and Stones adjust to new routines and face the daunting prospect of rebuilding, their determination to maintain community ties and cultural identity serves as a testament to the enduring strength of Alaska’s rural villages in the face of disaster.
