Lynn Lau
Northern News Services

Aklavik (Sep 30/02) - At the airport in Aklavik, friends and relatives arrived all day, from Inuvik, Tuktoyaktuk, Fort McPherson, Calgary and Kaktovik, Alaska.

Still others came by boat, following the same river channels that claimed the lives of the three men they were gathering here to mourn.

Doug (Uniyaq) Irish, 50, his son-in-law Larry (Nigaluk) Semmler, 42, and nephew Charlie James (Ahsagaurak) Meyook, 32, died of carbon monoxide poisoning on the Peel River Channel Sept. 13.

They had been out gathering firewood in Irish's jet boat when they were somehow overcome by fumes under the boat's soft top canopy.

Peter Elanik Jr. found the boat beached on a sand bar at about 1:30 a.m. Saturday morning, with all three men sitting upright in their seats, as if sleeping.

A week and one day after the accident, a shared funeral service was held for the three men in English, Inuvialuktun and Gwich'in. For this town of scarcely 700, it was the largest funeral held in recent memory.

Some 350 people packed into the Anglican Church, while the overflow of 300 more spilled into the street and churchyard.

Those outside braced against the chill autumn wind, straining to hear the service by way of a barely audible speaker by the back door of the church.

Inside, Gwich'in Tribal Council chief Fred Carmichael struggled to maintain his composure as he read the eulogies for Irish and Semmler.

"Doug accomplished many successes in his life, and he was very humble about this," Carmichael read. "Doug was a fair person and was always concerned that all people were treated fairly in whatever life paths they chose."

Irish was an entrepreneur and 34-year employee of Imperial Oil, where he worked as a barge captain.

He was also the chair of the Inuvialuit Petroleum Corp., and was active on the Mackenzie Valley Pipeline Group. During his time in Norman Wells, he acquired several businesses including a hotel, grocery and travel agency.

In the last couple years, he and a business partner started Polar Energy Services, an Inuvialuit oil and gas company.

Diane Baptiste, who worked with Irish at Imperial Oil in Norman Wells, remembered him as a man "dedicated to his family, work and whatever was at hand. He loved his traditional way of life, but he also needed the most up-to-date electronic devices or toys. He always had a smile, and laughed and told jokes with his friends and co-workers," Baptiste said, reading from a eulogy she and other co-workers prepared.

Irish's eldest daughter Angeline (Dee Dee) was Semmler's long-time partner. Semmler was the owner of Amber Painting in Aklavik, and was involved with the Hunters and Trappers Committee and Inuvialuit Game Council.

In the eulogy delivered by Carmichael, Semmler was described as a man who loved being outdoors and living on the land.

"He could talk anyone into doing anything with him, especially playing sports," Carmichael read. "He literally went out and bought tennis rackets and was able to convince the boys to go out to the courts and spend the whole day."

Semmler and Dee Dee Irish had three children together and Semmler had a son from an earlier relationship.

Meyook was the youngest of the three dead. He lost his father when he was still young and was raised by his paternal grandmother Sarah Meyook and his aunts.

Lately, he had been working as a welder's helper and labourer for E. Gruben's Transport.

In a eulogy delivered by cousin Mary Margaret Brower, Meyook was remembered as "an easygoing person who was always happy and smiling . . . You could rely on him for a helping hand whether it took him to bush camps or in town. Charlie passed away with his uncle and close friend doing one of his favourite on the land activities."

The sun peered through the clouds briefly as the funeral procession, stretching over three blocks long, moved from the church to the graveyard at the edge of town. Community members gathered later at the recreation complex to hold a feast for the bereaved.

As night fell, mourners dispersed back to their various homes and communities, like so many shock waves of grief rippling outward.