The Hunt for the Northern Lights

Every once in a while I look up, and I’m reminded that I live in Alaska.

That reminder may come in the form of a stunning view, or as a large mounted animal head (they’re everywhere), or as a sign along a hiking trail that only I seem to find funny.

(Another sign I couldn’t help but stop and note is mentioned in this post, https://pokingthebear.org/ways-to-summer-in-alaskas-playground/)

But sometimes it is a combination of things that create a moment. Like this moment I briefly filmed here, it is just so Alaska. From the bar, to the people, to the conversation, to the weather, to the young snowmobilers…or, I should say snow-machiners because “snowmobile” is a lower 48 word.

And, next to me there is my husband Mark, being so Mark by worrying about “someone getting run over.”

“Our kids are not getting on snow machines!” Mark responds when I suggest it,  “The only thing worse than crashing your snow machine, is  having it run over you after you crash.” As a trauma surgeon, he has seen more than a few patients who would prove the point.

But, while we are still in Alaska, there a couple of things we still need to check off the list, and that is seeing the Northern Lights and snow machining (Mark will come around) and perhaps doing both in one place. I imagine the four of us flying across the snow as the green lights of the Aurora Borealis swirl overhead.

Borealis Basecamp:

It’s night and 7 degrees at this camp an hour outside Fairbanks. There are five people in the lobby; myself, my son Anders, my daughter Tatum, Tatum’s friend, and an employee.

The employee is a large man, mid-30s, wearing a bandana as his covid-wear of choice. The length of the bright red bandana layered over his much longer rusty red beard has a cohesive, almost stylish look.

“Mom, Anders isn’t wearing a face mask!” Tatum suddenly notices, thrilled to have something on her brother that I have no choice but to publicly respond to.

“Anders! Go back to the car and get it,” I say.

The man raises his hand up to stop him, “You’re okay, I don’t care.”

Anders stops and looks at me just as my husband Mark enter the lobby.

“It’s a democracy here,” the man continues.

“What’s happening?” Mark asks, confused.

“Dad, Anders isn’t wearing a mask!” That’s Tatum again.

Mark is no longer looking confused. There was a time when getting in his son’s face meant having to bend down, but as of recently, like in the last two months, it simply means standing upright and eye to eye.

“Anders, did you hear the man?” Mark scolds, “This is a democracy, do you know what that means? It means the majority has voted that masks are what we should be doing, so why aren’t you wearing yours?!”

“That’s not what I’m saying,” the man says, but Mark can’t hear him because Mark hopped on another train. Same station platform. Opposite direction.

Mark walks Anders outside, leaving me in his awkward wake, something I’m used to. I’m a little surprised Mark misinterpreted the man though. Speaking of moments that remind me I’m in Alaska and not our hometown Boulder, coming across someone resistant to the mask isn’t uncommon. Compared to other countries, Americans in general don’t like taking orders, but Alaskans ten times more so.

“That’s not what I was saying,” the man repeats, “I wouldn’t be wearing a mask if I wasn’t required to as an employee. I’m not scared.”

I nod.

Personally, when it comes to masks, there are times like this one when I wish I had a mask that covered my entire face. Then I could just shut my eyes and try to sleep.

The lobby is now very quiet. I’m at a loss for words.  And, Tatum is at a loss for a brother to tattle on.

The man breaks the silence, “I actually think I have the antibodies because in March there were a lot of people here from China and Japan.”

Now I’m awake. There is this rumor I have been meaning to investigate.

“Oh, right, they come here because…?” I ask, referring to the rumor.

“Yeah, it is some sort of fertility tradition they have,” he shrugs, “I don’t know.”

And he looks like he doesn’t want to know, but I’m curious. I’m going to have to officially look into this one once we get to into our room, I mean, igloo. Here at Borealis Basecamp, the accommodations are referred to as igloos.

https://borealisbasecamp.net/?gclid=CjwKCAiA8Jf-BRB-EiwAWDtEGrj7kOntNcmRHF5MCyw_fHB3sreIrRhBCkbpFEAp48hjhQe0_TIlThoCKdwQAvD_BwE

The Perfect Place to See the Northern Lights, and Conceive a Gifted Child?

“Have you heard that rumor about how Japanese travel to Alaska to conceive a child under the Northern Lights?” I ask Mark after we are led to our igloo.

“No, why would they do that?”

“It’s believed to result in a “gifted” child.”

“Well, too bad we didn’t know, because we’re 0 for 2.”

I looked it up, and from what I can tell it is just a rumor.

https://soranews24.com/2015/02/14/is-it-true-that-japanese-go-to-alaska-to-copulate-under-the-aurora-【myth-busters】/It started on an episode of “Northern Exposure,” a popular 90s show I have never seen. “Oh you have to watch Northern Exposure!” almost everyone would say when we announced we were moving to a small town in Alaska. But, along with “Leave it to Beaver” and “Welcome Back Kotter” “Northern Exposure” is not streaming on Netflix or anywhere.

As it turns out, we did not see the lights at Borealis Basecamp.  It is possible that we were too late into winter, and the skies were filled with clouds.  I wasn’t too surprised as checking on Aurora activity is something I check on more than the weather itself and I knew “activity” would be low. https://www.gi.alaska.edu/monitors/aurora-forecast.

Those clouds prevented viewing of the Northern Lights, but they did provide another particular benefit of the Alaskan north: snow.

The weekend that we visited the Borealis Basecamp, they had just started dog sledding in earnest.  They are true competitors, but they will offer to take tourists on sledding adventures to subsidize the considerable expenses of running a bonafide competitive dog sled operation.  The prior weekend, they were using wheeled carts for lack of snow.  When we were there, they just switched to actual sleds.  Our guide loved it.  “When I’m done with you, I will do another 25 mile training run,” he said.  “Then, I’ll switch dogs, and we’ll do another 25 miles.”

The next day, clouds continued to fill the sky.  And, they continued to provide ample snow, enough for a snow machine expedition.  Finally, Mark had consented to let the kids go, and even drive.

And while we didn’t get the northern lights swirling overheard, we did get something I hadn’t realized I wanted to see.

“Is that the Alaska Pipeline?” I ask our guide as we approach what I thought at was another ski hill. But these weren’t ski hills, apparently during much of our ride we had been on top of the pipeline. More than half of the 800 mile pipeline is above ground.

Snow machining past the Trans-Alaska Pipeline? I say that counts as an “Alaska moment.”

Now, while not seeing the Northern Lights was disappointing we weren’t too upset as we did see the Northern Lights on an October trip to Fairbanks with my brother Ken. October usually means clearer skies.

We loved the lodge where we stayed. It was affordable (certainly in covid times, and it was more classic in terms of style. https://atasteofalaska.com

To catch the lights of Aurora Borealis though you had to head out to a field behind the lodge. When I heard the lights were active (and they can be very fleeting) I’d run out to that field, trying snap shots of the sky along the way but without spilling wine from the glass I had in my other hand.

Because I have my priorities in order, I managed to save every sip of the wine, but my photos were terrible.

Fortunately, out in the field there were other lodge guests who we quickly befriended. One of them was  a professional photographer who offered to shoot a family portrait of us the next day. Where we actually look like an almost sane family.

And he sent me his images of his shots of the Northern Lights from the night before.

End Note:

Todd and his wife will be traveling with my brother this summer (if all goes well) to revisit the village my brother lived in as a peace corps volunteer several decades ago. I’m almost tempted to join if only to lose another 10lbs quickly. https://pokingthebear.org/the-art-of-seduction/

I can’t wait to see photos from that trip, and how the village may have changed.