December photos

So much for coming up with some deep, thought-provoking, reflective Christmas post like I'd planned to do last week. But I have no complaints -- I've been having too much fun and staying too busy to philosophize lately. And besides, as they say, a picture is worth a thousand words, so I'll let the photos do most of the talking. :)

View of the low mid-day sun

Snow is infinitely beautiful!

Most of my activity lately has involved snowshoeing to the tops of various little mountains and hills, and then sledding/sliding down. We still don't have as much snow as normal for this time of year, but it's all still so new to me that I don't really care.

The sky is almost always pink this time of year

Not to mention, with only 4 hours of daylight, the world is full of the most beautiful colors I have ever seen in nature! No more greens and yellows and browns, but whites, pinks, purples, deep reds, pale blues, and soft oranges. It seriously feels like I'm living on a different planet sometimes.

Nice waxing gibbous

Pink sky over Nome faraway

Almost full moon, rising over a weird rock

Balancing on the rock!

Some friends sledding

Sledding is my favorite thing right now. I'll try to post more pictures of it soon, but it is such a thrill! On Christmas Eve, three of us hiked up a little mountain and sledded down about 5 times in a row. It was so exhausting, but ridiculously fun.

This is what happens when you hike for an hour in -7 degrees

More pictures and updates to come, hopefully before New Years.

Winter Solstice

It's incredible how much more the "winter solstice" means when you only have 3 hours and 56 minutes of daylight. I don't really mind the darkness too much, but yesterday I was filled with an overwhelming feeling of hope and relief, knowing that this was as short as the days would get, and hereafter I would have only longer days to look forward to (even if it will only be 4 hours and 10 minutes of sunlight by New Years!). 

As a fun way to celebrate the shortest day of the year, members of the Alaska region National Parks all agreed to go outside at noon in their respective National Park units and snap a picture of the sun, and post them online. 

Pre-sunrise pastel colors

So just before 12pm, I crossed the street from the office and stood out on the sea wall to watch the first sunrise of winter, camera at hand. It was about 14 degrees out (balmy compared to earlier this week!) but a hard 20mph wind made it feel about -4. Besides the howling of the wind, it was all but silent with the sea frozen solid.

The sun at "high" noon

The sun didn't officially rise until about 12:04, but right at noon I snapped a picture of its position just peeking over the horizon. From here, it would climb a few degrees up into the sky before dipping back down again a little further west at 3:57pm.

Above is the picture I posted on our park Facebook page, and as other Alaska national parks began sharing each others' photos, it ended up going surprisingly viral -- like, almost 290% viral! To put that into perspective, most of our posts only go about 10% viral, or up to 50% if we're lucky. Basically this is a measure of how many times people "share" and "like" the picture on Facebook. It was pretty satisfying and exciting to be able to share this moment with so many people, and great to see all the Alaska national parks cross-promoting so well, despite the vast distances and differences between our parks in the state.

Sunrise and the coastline

Snow blowing across the beach in little wisps

The classic "Welcome to Nome" sign

As of today, I can say I've been in Alaska exactly 6 months and 2 days; I've nearly seen all 4 seasons here (I arrived on the last day of spring!) and I've seen the longest and the shortest days of the year to the extreme. What a life so far!

Attempt at holiday decorating

It's finally starting to feel like Christmas. My housemate and I bought some lights and garland, and set up our little house cactuses as a "Christmas tree" under which to put our presents from home. It won't be the same, being away from home for the holiday, but I guess there's a first time for everything, right?

And really, just like living in the dark for 20 hours a day, or standing outside in -25 degrees, or being isolated in a dysfunctional bush town for 9 months, it's doable if you keep it in perspective (or have good friends and family to put things back into perspective when you lose it). :)

More winter photos and snowshoeing

This week I've gotten out to explore a couple times since we still don't have enough snow to close off all the roads, so I thought I'd post some pictures.

Yep. That's a negative-20.

Heading west out of town

These signs are on all the roads out of town

Fox (?) tracks found while snowshoeing

On a -17 degree day, frozen rivers were steaming!

Sunset over the outskirts of town

Less-frozen parts of the sea ice were steaming

On Friday I got to go with one of the rangers to the elementary school to help out with a program. Originally the plan was to take the kids snowshoeing since most children here have never done it before (go figure!), if it was warm enough. In Nome, "warm enough" is defined as -20 degrees or above. Ha! Well, Friday turned out to be one of the coldest days of the week so we brought the snowshoes just in case but assumed we would be staying inside. I didn't even bother to put on my snow gear.

However, when we arrived, the temperature had risen to about -17, deemed safe to go outdoors. The kids all had their snow gear and were stoked to get outside, so after a briefing on snowshoe etiquette, we got them prepped and braved the cold, ourselves, to take them out to a nearby field.

5th Graders trying out their snowshoes for the first time

Two lessons learned: 1) It takes about a half hour to get sixteen 10-year-olds in snowshoes, and 2) always be prepared!  I ended up standing out in the tundra in -17 degrees just wearing my hiking shoes, jeans, and a coat for about 45 minutes. Both my legs were completely numb on the walk back and it took me the entire rest of the day and night to finally feel warm again.

A really great group of kids!

The kids absolutely loved it though, and they were a great group. It was very interesting to see what it's like to be a kid out here; there was a very broad spectrum of abilities, experience, and personalities in the class, but they were all quite smart and had a lot of local knowledge. Hopefully we'll be able to take them  out again in the spring when it warms up above 0 again! :)

Ice Adventures

Yesterday a group of us decided to brave the sub-zero temperatures and enjoy our still snow-free weather and drive out to Dorothy Falls, a fun hiking location we'd been to over the summer. The falls are about 25 miles from Nome and a 2 mile hike from the road. We headed out at sunrise around noon, to make the most of the daylight. 

Before starting our hike though, we stopped at Salmon Lake to see how it was doing in the cold. We found it almost completely frozen over, the ice at least a foot and a half thick. I've never seen anything like it before. Some of the ice was totally clear, with bubbles frozen in place!

Frozen bubbles under the ice!

You could see all the way down to the bottom with air bubbles and leaves frozen in place. It was totally surreal.

Everyone fascinated by the ice

So now I can say I've walked on a lake. It was quite slippery, and although fun to slide around on, it was still a little nerve-wracking, since you could hear even the thickest parts of the ice popping and cracking under your feet.

The frozen lake

Made for some beautiful photo ops

More cool cracks and ice

We got to the Dorothy Falls trail head (or lack thereof) around 2pm and bundled up in tons of layers and face masks. It was about -5 degrees plus about a 30mph wind so I estimated it to be close to -20 degrees with windchill. In other words, the coldest I've ever been! Fortunately my clothes were plenty warm once we got moving: I was wearing 2 pairs of socks, snow boots, thermal long johns, snow pants, a wool base layer shirt, fleece vest, North Face parka, balaclava face mask, knit scarf, winter hat, and gloves.

The river was frozen over so the group decided to hike the whole way on the ice. It was kind of fun at first but when I started realizing how many different kinds of ice (and levels of slippery-ness, meltedness, overflow, etc) that there were, I became pretty uncomfortable with it.

I had no idea what "overflow" was until I slipped in it for the first time and found myself sitting in cold, slushy ice that immediately froze my glove to my hand. OW! Overflow is kind of when liquid water comes over the solid ice and turns into cold slush, extremely slippery and kind of rubbery to step on. Well, I ripped my frozen glove off my hand and fortunately had an extra pair in my backpack -- in the few minutes it took me to change my gloves with numb hands, the wet pair had frozen solid. (note to self: invest in better gloves!).

After that, two of us decided to hike the rest of the way up the ridge, off the ice while the other 4 continued up the river. In the end, we all made it to the falls around the same time so it worked out well.

Friend's pic of the frozen waterfall

It was pretty amazing -- although frozen solid, you could still hear water flowing and bubbling somewhere around it (also randomly found a Geocache next to it!).

On the way back, we all decided to stay together on the ice since it was getting dark. Eventually I got used to the slipping and sliding, and although it was very slow going 2 miles like that, it became pretty fun. We even had some roll-up sleds that we used to slide down the frozen flow slopes!

Penguin-waddling down the river with my roll-up sled

We made it back just as the sun was setting around 4pm. I think all but one person had wiped out multiple times during the trip and we were all covered in ice and snow; the bottom hem of my pants was frozen with ice about a half inch thick.

Overall it was a great adventure and more new experiences all around.

S'no place like Nome for the Holidays...

Despite the mild melancholy of not being home for the holidays, so far December has been bit more exciting than November, which I will get to momentarily. 

To begin, there is still almost no snow; today the newspaper reported an all-time record low snowfall last month, as we received only 0.2 inches instead of the average 12.1 inches! Climate change in action, I tell you! In addition, the air temps averaged about 14 degrees F last month, as opposed to the usual 16 degrees.

And this month so far? We've been in the negatives almost every day this week (one day got down to about -12 with windchill).

Sea Ice is here to stay

Last weekend my coworker/housemate and I bundled up for a walk down to the beach, which now overlooks a layer of chunky ice over the sea. Some people are beginning to walk out on it, but I'm going to wait until it's a few feet thick before I take my chances.

Sunlit sea ice

I'm still amazed by the aesthetics of the ice. It's such a new experience every time I go out, and this time it was beautifully lit by the low afternoon sun, sometimes reflecting a cool blue, other times warm golds and yellows.

Thin sheet of ice?

This piece was strange -- somehow a paper-thin sheet of ice managed to hold fast to its base. It was absolutely beautiful, but I'm still confused as to why it existed and didn't somehow break off in the process of its formation.

Sunlit ice: the "real" gold of Nome :)

Snow on Newton Peak

This week I got to try out something completely new: snowshoeing! The rangers are looking at leading snowshoe hikes for local school groups, so we've been practicing to learn how to do it ourselves and scout out good places to go out (seeing as how we've had almost no snow). So, braving the icy roads, I drove us up to Newton Peak, our local hiking spot from the summer, which actually had a good few inches of snow packed down with hoarfrost.

Hoarfrost up close

(From what I understand, hoarfrost is kind of a harder layer of frost that comes in various forms, and is super sparkly.)

Wearing my (borrowed) NPS parka and snowshoes

Well, we hiked partway up and then decided to put on the snowshoes where it started getting deeper. It was a little strange to get used to at first, but surprisingly easier than I anticipated. It felt kind of like wearing gigantic flip-flops and you have to step a little wider, but it significantly increased my balance and reduced the amount of time I spent sinking into the snow. Super fun!

Frozen hair!

I should also note that it was -7 degrees. After pausing to take pictures, my coworker started laughing at me: "your hair is frozen!" Sure enough, a lock of my hair that had escaped my hood had apparently accumulated enough moisture from my breath to freeze solid with icy crystals. 

The Kigs mountain range

Cool photo taken by my coworker!

We spent around an hour and a half snowshoeing and made it about 3/4 of the way up the peak before we had to turn around to make it back before sunset a little after 4pm.  All I can say is, I'm addicted to snowshoeing now! I could seriously do that every day and be perfectly happy. Fortunately we're going out again tomorrow, so I can't wait.

On gratitude, love, and a village

This Thanksgiving, I am thankful to be alone. And I don't mean it ironically, but most sincerely from the bottom of my heart. I am alone because I am fortunate. I am alone because I am loved enough for my family and friends to let me go off and reach my own stars. I am alone because I love my family and friends enough to be able to leave and come back, knowing I still have a home and a community.

I am thankful to be alone because it allows me to reflect on these things and realize that not only am I comfortable enough with myself to enjoy a Thanksgiving in solitude, but that I also have so much to be thankful for.

Yesterday was my long-anticipated trip to the native village of Shishmaref, located on a 3 sq. mi. island on the northern coast of the Seward Peninsula. It has a population of a little over 560 people, over 93% Alaska Native, and 52% youth. There is no running water except in the school and a couple public buildings; most water is derived from chunks of ice melting in big trash cans in peoples' homes and offices. I went to one of 2 little stores in the village, and found it stocked with a few nonperishables (including lots of sodas, processed foods, etc) and only a couple fresh produce items since food availability and shipments are inconsistent.

Upon arrival, we hurried around to various people and places trying to organize the day's scheduled meetings. Everyone was very friendly and welcoming. Eventually we ended up at the Shishmaref School and ran around between a high school classroom, the cafeteria where a Thanksgiving meal was being prepared for the village elders, and the principal's office to announce the meeting I was trying to organize with the youth. We let all the high school students know what I was doing and to meet me at 2pm in the Friendship Center in town to talk about their experiences at Serpentine Hot Springs. They seemed a little shy, but interested.

After all the kids and elders ate, we were given food from the school cafeteria -- a lunch tray of turkey, potatoes, bread, and peaches -- and then went to go set up for the meetings.

The Friendship Center

I was given use of the Friendship Center, a big building in slight disrepair being used mostly as storage and for meeting space. Two o'clock came and went, and I was still sitting in there alone. I wandered around, took pictures out the windows (didn't want to be too creepy) and doodled in my notebook. I decided by 3:30 I would start packing up.

View out the window

Shishmaref

More buildings

For some reason antlers were stacked on a lot of roofs

At about 3pm, I heard someone coming up the stairs outside. Glancing up, a pair of huge, almond-shaped eyes were staring at me through bottom corner of the window. I waved and the eyes creased into a smile, ducked out of view, and the door opened. A little girl about 6-years-old stood there. We exchanged greetings. 

"See my new snow pants??" She asked. They were neon pink. 

"I like those," I complimented enthusiastically.

"And my new boots? See? They have pockets." She showed me a little pocket on the outside of her snow boots. 

"What are you gonna keep in there?" I asked, to which she responded, "can we play games?"

"Um, how about we color?" I suggested, pushing crayons and a coloring page over to her. 

Over the course of the afternoon over nature coloring book pages, I learned her name was Angel, she was possibly in first grade (she wasn't sure), and she loved to spell everything. She asked lots of questions and we drew narwhals together (I convinced her they were underwater unicorns). 

Well, eventually my superintendent came in and we sent little Angel off, packed up, and went to go stay at a local's house until our plane arrived. There, we sat around at a kitchen table sipping coffee while our host baked pastries and everyone talked. I learned that a band of men had been sent out to go caribou hunting for the village Thanksgiving feast the next day, but none had returned yet. They talked about problems in the village, who was doing what, who was having babies, who was moving where. 

Eventually, the pilot called the house to ask us how much we each weighed, and said he'd be there by 6:30. Sure enough, he arrived at 6:28 in a big Beechcraft 1900, and we boarded with 2 other passengers bound for Nome. It was a cold flight (even bundled up in all my layers, hat, and gloves) and already pitch-black outside, but we made it back in record time. 

My own Thanksgiving feast

So today, it is with Shishmaref in mind, with family and friends, strangers and loved ones in my thoughts that I celebrate Thanksgiving, alone in body but not in spirit. I spent the day baking pumpkin bread, ham, mashed potatoes, and green beans, chatting with people through various forms of technology, watching the sun rise and set over a few short hours, and reflecting on life, love, and gratitude. 

If you're reading this, all I want to say is thank you, and I love you very, very much! Happy Thanksgiving!

Wintry Wanderings

I've actually managed to have an incredibly busy weekend, filled with lots of cooking, exploring, and fun with the few friends that are left in town. Today we headed out around 10:30 to drive and hike around the road that heads east out of town, and watched the sun rise over the almost-frozen Bering Sea.

Safety Sound bridge

It was ridiculously cold out, mainly because of the driving wind this far out from town. I'm going to wager to say the temperatures were definitely in the negatives, as my face and any exposed skin ached within minutes of being outside.

Sunrise

Last Train to Nowhere

You might remember my photos of the "Last Train to Nowhere" from over the summer. Well, a lot can change in 5 months! This abandoned railway is now frozen into the very ground that was so swampy and mosquito-y back in June.

Playing with sunlight

Another place we stopped was Skookum Pass, one of the highest points on the road at around 1200 feet. From here, you can see to the Bering Sea and just miles upon miles of rolling tundra.

View of the Sea

"Chopping" it down with a pocket knife

We went as far as we could out on the road until it got too snowy and treacherous to proceed. We got far enough to the point where there are actually small conifers growing here and there, so we took a quick pit stop to harvest a tiny little one as a Christmas tree that we'll decorate later this week.

Tiny tree-chopping action

It was a long day, with the amount of time it took to drive out and back, but good to get out after being confined to town for so long and a nice release from some of the recent stress at work. Hopefully this week will be just as good, taking it one day at a time, and trying to look forward to my first solo Thanksgiving (can't wait to Facetime in with the fam!).