# Edna Korth from The Last Alaskans: Warnings We Ignored

Edna Korth, a central figure in *The Last Alaskans*, embodies resilience and survival in the harsh Alaskan wilderness.

Alongside her husband, Heimo Korth, she has lived a life of grit in the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge, a protected area where only a handful of families are permitted to reside. Yet, behind the admiration and televised strength, there were subtle warnings about Edna’s struggles that many overlooked.

Born on January 25, 1954, in Savonga, an Eskimo village on St. Lawrence Island in the Bering Sea, Edna grew up immersed in nature. Her childhood was shaped by fur trapping, fishing, and learning survival skills from her father and uncle, rather than dolls or tea parties.

She mastered patience—waiting for fish to bite or stews to simmer—and embraced the wilderness as her true home, finding civilization stifling. Her quiet confidence and calm demeanor set her apart, equipping her for a life many would deem uninhabitable.

Edna’s personal life has been marked by profound tragedy. Initially engaged to a Swedish biologist who shared her love for the outdoors, her world shattered when he died in a plane crash while she was pregnant with their daughter, Millie. Years later, she found solace in Heimo Korth, a Wisconsin native drawn to the wild.

They married in 1980, building a partnership rooted in mutual respect and a shared devotion to the Alaskan lifestyle. Together, they had three more daughters, but tragedy struck again in 1984 when their two-year-old, Colleen, was swept away in a canoe accident on a river. Her body was never recovered, leaving lasting scars on the family.

Despite these losses, Edna remained steadfast, raising her children—Rhonda, Krin, and Millie—to master hunting, trapping, and self-reliance in the refuge. Her life, documented on *The Last Alaskans*, showcases the challenges of living 100 miles from the nearest neighbor, far from roads or hospitals. However, recent observations from family and friends hint at a deeper struggle.

Edna has grown distant, her smiles forced, her gait slower, and her eyes tinged with sadness. Tasks that once took minutes now leave her breathless, a sign of dwindling strength as she ages into her 60s.

A looming heartbreak is the impending end of their time in the refuge. A 1980 U.S. government ban on new human occupation means their 100-year permit is nearing its close. Edna mourns the likelihood that her grandchildren won’t live there, and with her children moving to Fairbanks and Canada, the couple is transitioning to a seasonal life between the wilderness and family. For Edna, Alaska is where she raised her family and found love, but this chapter is closing. Her legacy of resilience endures, yet the warnings of her emotional and physical toll remind us of the human cost behind her stoic facade.