Category: Alaska

  • The Hunt for the Northern Lights

    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:

    How cool is this place?!

    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.

    The perfect place to see the Northern lights, unless there are clouds.

    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.

    I’ll admit, this is a little better than the shots I took. http://www.toddrafalovich.com

    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.

    Visiting my brother in Garli village, Mauritania, Africa. A long time ago.
  • Living Danger-ishly

    Living Danger-ishly

    Small Plane Culture:

    My son Anders and I are on a small propeller plane returning to the Peninsula from Anchorage where Anders just got braces. Yes, we flew to Anchorage for an orthodontist appointment.

    I am seated right behind the pilot. If I leant my head forward I could nap on his shoulder. But I won’t do that, he is distracted enough at the moment by a bumble bee that is excitedly buzzing around his dashboard

    The pilot keeps glancing at it as it buzzes back and forth and bounces off the control panel.

    I stare at the pilot’s hands, willing both of them to stay gripped on the wheel. I’m all too aware that this is a single engine, single piloted plane. At one point the bee flies towards my face, but I don’t duck or try to swat at it. In case the pilot has eyes in the back of his head, I want to set a good example.

    From the single seat behind me Anders taps my shoulder.

    “Mom, how much longer? I don’t like this,” Anders says.

    I know he doesn’t like this. He hates flying, and he is especially fearful of flying on any airline that asks how much you weigh at check in (It’s the only time I’m honest about it as who knows the margin for error on that.)

    “Mom, did you hear me?” Anders asks.

    I nod to show him I did, but I am busy watching the pilot who is busy watching the bee.

    My vigilance in willing his hands not to move paid off. Not once did he take a hand off the wheel until landing the plane and pulling to a stop. He then turned around and looked at me.

    “Did you see that bee?” he asks, “I don’t think it paid for a ticket.”

    I laugh because every joke is funnier when you’re safely on the ground.

    Truly the Last Frontier:

    Whenever my friends who I grew up with in Boulder ask me what Alaska is like, I tell them it’s like Colorado in the early ’80s, and they understand what I mean. It is probably why we keep running into people here who moved from Colorado. They all want 1981 Colorado back.

    (I mention the same thing in another post. https://pokingthebear.org/minding-your-own-business-in-alaska/)

    One difference though that is very unique to Alaska is the small plane culture. It is the only way to get anywhere, other than bigger cities like Anchorage.

    3 of my favorite things to witness on our lake is (small planes is number 3):

    One: The Ducks. Since early summer a family of ducks moved in under our dock. First mama was being followed by 10 ducklings. Then it was seven. Then five. This morning I saw her and there was just two tween ducks trailing.

    Did her other babies mature enough to move out on their own? Or were they all picked off by eagles who figured a small duck would be easier to haul off versus, say, a fat cat named Albert?

    We keep telling Albert that if he wants to risk going outdoors he should at least wear his pirate outfit because everyone knows eagles are afraid of pirates. But, Albert won’t listen.

    Two: My jet skiing neighbors. One of our neighbors is a school teacher and she is very sweet and quiet, but then everyone is very sweet and quiet compared to my family. When she and I go to happy hour it is basically her politely picking at a sliver of pie as I cackle loudly at my own jokes before chugging another margarita. But when my neighbor is on a jet ski, she makes me feel demure as she revs her engine, jumps waves, does donuts, and flies around the lake like a bat out of hell.

    Three: Then there are the float planes. I love them. It’s just what I pictured when I imagined life in Alaska. Across the lake is an adventure flying charter owned by two brothers who own beaver planes that can take you to the most remote places in the state. You can recognize a beaver plane by the sound of the motor.

    I have taken way too many photos of them taking off and landing in the fall, spring and summer. And, in the dead of winter this past year, when they weren’t flying, I walked across the lake to take photos of them.

    I’m sure I had probably stopped to watch the beaver planes take off that tragic morning, at 7am on the nose, as usual.

    Then I got a call from my jetski neighbor who was on her way to our morning bootcamp class. She said traffic into town was at a standstill.

    Just like 1981 Colorado, the only time you find yourself stuck in that kind of traffic here is if there was an accident.

    My neighbor went on to tell me it was a 2 plane mid-air collision involving one of the planes from across our lake. She just wasn’t sure which one.

    My other neighbor calls to ask me which planes I see across the way. One by one the planes are returning, it is a matter of knowing which one won’t.

    “The red, white, and blue one is back,” I tell her, relieved. It sounds strange but I just am weirdly attached to that plane. But overwhelmingly I was heartbroken knowing that the pilot inside was probably one brother just hearing the news. By the end of the day we knew, seven people were dead, including one of the brothers, a guide, and four age 20-something tourists. In the other plane an Alaskan State Representative.  His campaign signs were all over town.

    It was devastating.

    In the week following, no one on the lake went out on boats. There was no laughter as kids were pulled behind on tubes. There were no bad ass teachers on jet skis. The normally active lake was still, and ominously quiet.

    Finally, one morning, at 7am sharp, I heard the engine of a beaver plane. It felt like a signal that gave permission for everyone on the lake to stop mourning and return to some sort of normalcy.

    Risk Vs Reward:

    Here is the thing, my brother and his family were visiting just days later, and I had all of us scheduled to fly with this particular outfit to go fishing. In my fantasy I had the planes picking us up at our dock, but that was to be determined. I only knew I wouldn’t change charters though, now more than ever I had a loyalty to our plane charting neighbors.The bigger question at the moment was my son. If he was resistant to fly to go fishing before, well, this didn’t help.”I’m not going, mom” he said after I confirmed there had been a crash.  “You can’t make me!”

    Turns out he had a valid enough excuse to bail.  He had football practice, and my brother and nephews all agreed that football was much more important than a trip of a lifetime. We are a pretty intense football family.

    Because rural Alaska is 1981 Colorado, if you want to play a sport, you play the sport that is in season, and you play for your school. Oh, and the worry over concussions has not dwindled the team’s numbers.  They have been state champions 10 years in a row.

    The options for fall were track and football, and Anders chose football. Which is something of a surprise, but my brothers are thrilled.

    My nephew showing Anders how it’s done.

    I wasn’t going to make Anders fly on the float plane even if he didn’t have a good excuse. I had always promised myself that while we were here in Alaska our family would have to get on one of those float planes, at least once. But even before the accident I was questioning whether I could summon the courage myself.

    When did I become so nervous and risk adverse? I was once a 20-something year old. One who didn’t think twice about bungee jumping, and who went skydiving simply because in the school paper there was a $20 off for two people coupon.

    Somewhere over the fields of Upstate NY

     

    The Risks:

    “I can’t tell you small planes are safe, because they really aren’t,” my friend says after I tell her about having second thoughts on our charter flight. She is a newly licensed pilot herself, and she and her husband seem to fly somewhere romantic every weekend.  Freak accidents happen no matter how experienced the pilot, and Alaska is the state with the most crashes due to the numbers of planes, weather, and extreme terrain.

    When you hear of two planes colliding you think, how is that possible? But, my friend tells me a story of flying with her husband who grew up in Alaska flying planes, and they almost had an in-air collision themselves.

    “One moment we are staring at a wide open, totally empty sky, and then suddenly a plane appeared out of nowhere,” she tells me, “that plane came so close to us I could read the lettering on the pilot’s hat.”

    She can tell that she’s freaking me out.

    “But the views are worth it,” she added, “And I think it’s less dangerous than driving on Sterling Highway!”

    I have a flashback of driving with my daughter (who has her learner’s permit) slowly pulling out onto the highway as two semis going 90 mph head our way in each direction. My friend is right.

    And so we kept our reservation for a day of flying and fishing, but I did have two conditions. Now that Anders was staying behind, I wanted my husband and I to go in separate planes. The second condition was, I had to be in the red, white, and blue, plane.

    The Rewards:

    The Views
    The remote places you can only travel to in a small plane

    The bears. Fortunately, the bears are more interested in the fish.
    The fish.

    But perhaps the greatest reward for me was flying straight home, literally. My husband took this photo of our plane (I’m with my daughter, niece and nephew) landing right in front of our house.

    Flew in a float plane. Check.

    My niece made a video of our trip which captures the views better than pictures. After watching it one of my friends said it reminded her of the days when we used to make mixed tapes. Like, back in the 80s.

    https://www.facebook.com/lucie.rutherford/videos/2891993164234279

    End note: Will I ever fly in such a small plane again? Maybe, to sound like an addict I’ll admit to wanting to go on one more flight. Perhaps this time to see the views of Mt Denali out of Talkeetna. https://www.alaska.org/detail/talkeetna-air-taxi

     

     

  • Seward in the Off Season

    Seward in the Off Season

    How long should one stare at a Puffin?

    It’s a question we all ask ourselves. Personally all the Puffin time I need is two minutes. For my husband it is at least an hour, so in Seward he was in Puffin heaven.

    Seward Harbor

    It was the first weekend in October and we were in Seward for my daughter’s high school swim meet at Seward High. The school is surrounded by such spectacular mountain peaks that for a moment I decided there was no way the students there could ever stop noticing them. But I know that’s wrong, of course they have stopped noticing. They’re teenagers. I actually felt the need to take a photo of the school’s football field. When my son asked me what I was doing, I said “can you imagine seeing a football game here with those mountains as the back drop?” He looked at the field confused, then responded, “mom you’re so weird. Can we go now?”

    Seward High School football
    Seward High School’s football field, surrounded by stunning mountain peaks.

    Since we had never been to Seward, we decided to stay overnight and do a little sightseeing. Seward is located on Resurrection Bay and is known as the “Gateway to the Kenai Fjords.” There are multiple adventure outfitters running kayak tours and fishing charters out in the summer but we had missed the season by a few weeks. Most of the recreation businesses and the adjacent restaurants were located in the harbor area and had already shut down for the season. My husband loves the quiet, locals only feel of any place in the off season. I do too, but this time I had a feeling like we had arrived too late to a party where the only people left are a couple making out and one guy passed out on the couch with a loose hold on a soggy box of crackers. Oh great, now the couple is grabbing their jackets and heading out.

    Making a note to come back next summer to do the Kayak tour. If kayaking in Kenai Fjords National Park is anything like kayaking in Antarctica, the kids need to experience it. And yes, Antarctica, here is my sister in front of me, you can’t hear it in this mini video, but in the distance we’d hear glaciers collapsing (see end of this post about Obama visiting Seward to review the effects global warming)

    On this October weekend what was still open was the Alaska Sealife Center.

    The Sealife Center is located by Resurrection bay, and inside there is, well, sea life. I assume we all know what a seal looks like which is good because I wasn’t able to get a good photo of one. My sister (in video above) is an amazing professional photographer check out marlarutherford.com, she has shown me the camera settings one needs to get a clear action shot, but despite this all my seal shots were blurry.

    Left: I was able to get a great clear photo of this Tiger Rockfish though!

    The Seward Sealife Center isn’t exactly the Atlanta Aquarium, but then Seward isn’t Atlanta. So there’s that. It’s pretty small, and each ticket was $30. I knew my husband Mark was going to struggle to make this one cost effective. When it comes to the price of admissions for any aquarium or museum my husband determines the return on investment based on duration of visit. Me, I’m happy to pop in and out and maybe learn a few things on the way before hitting the gift shop. The Sealife Center gift shop is quite nice.

    To draw out the time, Mark read and re-read every plaque in the center, and quizzed Tatum and Anders on the two different types of Puffins (answer: tufted and horned) and various fish species until they started to hide from him. I knew it was time to ditch my family when Tatum came running to me to announce, “dad is being inappropriate in the touch tank!” Of course he is. I looked over to see Mark was cracking himself up/embarrassing our son by loudly “oohing and ahhing” as he fondled an anemone.

    Did you know Seward is the “Mural Capital of Alaska?” You did? Oh. I didn’t.

    I snuck out of the Center and wandered Seward’s cute downtown. That’s when I noticed all the murals. My favorite is this one downtown by Byron Birdsall.

    Seward Mural Capital Walk

    A 360 View

    My second favorite mural is one of two puffins (left: tufted, right: horned) on the side of our hotel in the harbor. Hotel 360 is the perfect hotel to stay at. If you want a water/glacier view, make sure to request one. Early this morning I opened our blackout curtains to see this sunrise.
    Doesn’t matter the season, Seward is always stunning.

    Seward harbor view
    View of Seward Harbor from Harbor 360 Hotel

    I miss the Obamas

    There is a confections shop called Sweet Dreams in Seward and in the two days we were there we visited it twice. If we had been there a day more it would have been thrice. There is a photo in the shop taken when Obama came to visit Seward in 2015. When I spotted it I felt nostalgic.

    Obama was there to climb and view Exit Glacier and see firsthand how the effects of global warming. It has been dramatic. When it comes to the glaciers in the area, what we are seeing today is just a little ice peeking out compared to the mass it once was. It’s unnerving.

    Still feeling the Obamas, on the ride back to Soldatna we listened to Michelle Obama on the podcast, “Conan Needs a Friend.” Every once in a while we find an episode on a show that the whole family loves listening to. This one was both funny and inspirational, making me feel like a good mom for exactly 56 minutes.