He's made the curved knives for more than 30 years, since he dropped out of school when he was 12.
Noah Nowdluk of Apex shows off one of the ulus he's made. He says he can make up to six ulus in a day - if he pushes it. |
Now 45, he begins his day early, waking up around 5:30 a.m. - something he learned early, growing up with his family hunting on the land.
"It was either get up early, or be left behind," he said.
Work begins inside a small wooden shed beside his Apex home. Tools clutter the table: different files and chisels, a ball-peen hammer and sets of pliers.
Nowdluk begins by tracing the blade pattern on bandsaw-grade carbon steel. Patterns vary from the traditional crescent style and ones with large wrap-around handles, to small ones with handles set off kilter, used for slicing seal skins for sewing.
"You know you have good steel when you..." he pauses, smacks the metal against his vice and listens to the sharp sound that fills the air, "hear that ping."
Nowdluk first learned to cut the pattern with a cold chisel and hammer, but now he uses heavy metal snips. "There's one trick: it's body leverage," he says, leaning forward as if to bow and flexing his knees.
Then he dons safety glasses and heavy work gloves, and gets grinding. A shower of sparks erupts from the angle grinder as he sharpens the blade. A plywood sheet guards the paper-lined wall, which once caught on fire when he tried grinding two blades at once.
Only one side is usually sharpened, in the style of the Eastern Arctic. He says it makes skinning easier. Then he files by hand.
Handles are crafted from unlikely sources, like sawed up pieces of a hardwood chair, or a tangle of reindeer antlers stored below. Or sometimes he uses Kevlar. "It doesn't crack like wood," he says.
The stem and rivets for his ulus also have an unusual origin: paint rollers, which are cut apart with a hacksaw and hammered flat.
Once assembled, every edge is filed to prevent snags. Then it's taken inside where the finishing touches are put on the cutting edge.
Last, he etches his initials in syllabics.
Over the years Nowdluk has tried his hand at jewellery and carvings, but he keeps returning to ulus. He says he simply follows the law of supply and demand.
"People want, I give."
He can make four or five a day. "Six, if I'm really pushing it. That's non-stop."
Nowdluk says he regrets dropping out of school and he hopes youth won't follow his path today.
People from all over the world have bought his ulus - he knows one has made it as far as Africa. But because he doesn't have a phone, to order one you need to drop by in person.