Looking Back on the First Year in Kotzebue

Fireworks during New Year's Eve celebrations.

As our first year in Kotzebue comes to a close, I look back at this time of intense learning and change. This past year has brought much change to our lives. The post below chronicles prior to our arrival and in the nearly one year completion of work here.

When Rick interviewed with the City of Kotzebue last March. After four months of being laid off, it was time for a new adventure. The opportunities for growth and economic development in the Northwest Arctic Region are so great. We were excited when Rick was offered the position. Rick began work at the beginning of May 2010.

Rick and I traveled to Kotzebue the last week of April to get him settled. April is a busy time of year in this community of 3,300 with more than 70 percent Eskimos. We rented an apartment sight unseen due to the shortage of available units in April when construction and fishing season was about to begin.

Stepping off the plane, we were met with cold unlike any I had experienced. Over the course of several months, my body would acclimate to the harsh environment in this hub city. I was amazed at the beauty of this snow covered place in the tundra. Ice covered the Kotzebue Sound, Swan Lake and the lagoon. We were told that spring had arrived and we had begun our stay at a bad time: during melt or break up. Each day the snow receded uncovering piles of discarded trash. Too cold to make it out to the curb during arctic storms, trash was stockpiled near the kunichuks of each dwelling. A kunichuk is a space with four walls and doors at each end: one entering the dwelling and the other to outside.

View of Kotzebue from the tundra.

Our plan was to visit each other on long weekends and use Skype during the intervening times. After a few such meetings, I decided to make the move and arrived in July after the snow had melted. Summer was in full swing with temperatures in the 50s. Kotzebue is nearly surrounded by water providing a rich habitat for fish and other animals. Berry picking and hikes into the tundra were normal activities. What amazed me the most is that there are no trees. The arctic winds and permafrost are not suitable for such vegetation. 

Beginning a job just days after my arrival, I was confronted with experience where nothing worked. That's how it felt while in reality, most things worked but intermittently failed. Calling down to the Lower 48 sometimes failed. Even calling locally worked intermittently. Levels of food at the grocery stores fluctuated depending on available transport. Alaska Airlines flights, promised at three a day, sometimes were canceled due to inclement weather. My company vehicle would intermittently malfunction. Due to the dry climate, static electricity would spark off my fingers. This phenomenon was not intermittent. It was constant.

Fall arrived in August with the temperatures dipping once again. While local people often say there are only two seasons in the tundra, the subtly of the change of season caught my attention. Nights cooled while leaves on native plants began to turn bright shades of maroon and yellow. Cranberries ripened on their low-lying branches as other berries reached the end of their bearing cycle. People kept telling us there  would be another warm spell before fall. I waited but could feel the slow retreat of the effects of summer.

The lagoon during "freeze up."

The first snow that stuck came in October. Taking pictures around Kotzebue, I took in the beauty and peace of this occurrence. Ice had formed on the edges of the lagoon outside our apartment and puddles gained a thin layer of ice. With trepidation, I embraced the cold. (For more information, see blog post "Freeze Up is on its Way")

We drove our car up the Alaska Highway during this time. Nightly posts on this blog helped us stay in touch with family interested in our progress along the five day journey through western Canada and southern Alaska to Anchorage. Since Kotzebue is not on the Alaska road system, the car would remain in Anchorage. Barging the car to Kotzebue during the summer would have cost thousands of dollars. (Nightly posts of this trip can be read, beginning with Preparing for the Flight to the Lower 48.)

Sunrise on the tundra at 11:30am.

Rick and I took trips to see family and friends during the early to mid winter as each day the light in the sky weakened its hold. Viewing the weather statistics on Accuweather.com became a daily ritual. Sometime during the first three weeks in December as the light diminished by more than seven minutes per day, a friend helped me appreciate the darkness. Hours before the sun lazily appeared on the horizon, a deep blue color shrouds the landscape. This twilight became the mainstay of my mornings at the club as I gazed out the large window at the north end of the Kotzebue Sound. Stunning.

The Winter Solstice was elevated to a major holiday for some of us. Once we passed this threshold, the daylight began to return in rapid succession. The sun left its weak stance on the horizon and rose high in the sky. Huge plows raked the roads clear of record breaking levels of snow. Huge drifts and piles became play toys for kids snuggled in their winter parkas, snow pants, hats and gloves. Additionally I began to don a face sock to prevent possible skin damage. Temperatures often dropped to -20 to -30 degrees and my new parkie protected me from the wind chill that sunk the occasional temperatures to -40 or so. (For more details, read posts Parkie for Christmas, and Losing Daylight in the Far North.)

The roads were charted across the Sound allowing the Arctic Cats and other snow machines to race across the ice to distant villages. The joys of winter were celebrated in full force with snow machines, cross country skiing and snowshoeing, and sledding down Cemetery Hill and other places. (For more details, read blog posts: Life in Below Zero Temperatures, A Sunday During the Holiday Season in Kotzebue, Snow Flurries in Kotzebue, and Blizzard in Kotzebue.)

I embraced the cold after a Christmas trip to see family. I began to understand the need to get out every two to three months during this time of year. Many local organizations and municipalities plan trips and retreats in Palm Springs, California, and Las Vegas, Nevada during this time. Seeking a break from the long, cold days, upcoming trips to Hawaii and Mexico dominated the conversations in the line at the post office. Many of us waited in long lines to pick up Internet or mail orders as well as Christmas gifts. Shelves at the local stores had gaping holes where items had been sold out and not replenished. Canceled flights and planes filled with passengers prevented goods from being restocked.

February arrived with blizzards that created white-out conditions. The club was closed for a few days as the danger of local travel became our reality. Being home bound helped me appreciate having a safe, warm place to live. Schools were closed early or snow days were called. We listened to KOTZ radio each morning as Bob announced the snow conditions and school schedule for the day. The winds howled at night as their speeds reached over 40 miles per hour. The isolation became intolerable. We traveled to Anchorage for a long weekend to escape. (For more details, see posts Waiting Out Another Storm in Kotzebue and Weekend Away from Kotzebue.)

Patches of over water seen from the tundra.

Near the end of the month, temperatures rose to an unseasonable 30 degrees. While some of us enjoyed the springlike conditions, the dangers of early snow melt were felt by all. Flooding along Shore Avenue required evacuation of residents along that street. High tides on the Sound that were normally masked by layers of ice thrust pieces of ice onto the road. Ice travel became dangerous in spots where over water had formed on the Sound, lagoon and Swan Lake. Examples of the climate change were witnessed throughout the Northwest Arctic Borough as far east as Buckland and south in Selawik. (For more details, read post Unseasonably Warm Temperatures Cause Flooding in Kotzebue.)

Sunrise over the lagoon during March.

Light began to dominate the sky in March as its duration brought sunny, cold temperatures. Spring is in the air as daytime temperatures hover slightly above zero degrees for long stretches of time. The sounds of snow machines, can be heard at midnight as this Eskimo community brought life to the night. As is customary for these longer days, many of us are going to sleep later and later. Darkness engulfs the land around 10 pm each night.

Trips to the tundra for sledding on Cemetery Hill have become more prevalent on the windless days. On a recent trip to Anchorage, I picked up some sunglasses to wear. Headaches behind my eyes warned of the possibility of temporary snow blindness.

With the return of spring, I look back at the year that we are leaving behine. The return of the long days leaves me contemplative. The familiarity of this season brings comfort and ease to our daily lives here 33 miles above the Arctic Circle. Having survived the harsh winter gives me confidence in the year ahead.

Note: For more information about the last year in Kotzebue, read other posts on this blog. The ones listed above are just a sprinkling of perspectives from someone who moved to this Eskimo village from the Lower 48.