Effects of the Melt on Kotzebue

Large puddles accumulate during the melt.

Something I didn't expect to happen so soon did. The melt has begun. People have said this season is the ugliest of the four up here in the Far North. I believe them.

Spring is the season of the melt. The snow melts from the land, and the ice recedes from the shore. For the first time this season, we saw seagulls on the Kotzebue Sound. While some friends and I were having dinner, my friend looked out the window of the Bayside Restaurant and observed that there were seagulls on the Sound.

"There's open water out there," she exclaimed. We stared out the window in amazement partly because the timing is not right. It is too early for the melt. Normally the ice begins to melt later in May. Temperatures normally stay well below freezing at this time.

The warmer weather has had other effects on life in Kotzebue and other places around the Northwest Arctic Borough. Fog. As the air above the ground begins to warm and the snow melts, fog is created. The gray days are upon us, and travel has been made more difficult.

Aerial view of the road leading into Noorvik.

Last Tuesday Rick and I traveled out to Noorvik to visit one of the clubs. The morning flights had been canceled the day before due to fog. Visibility has to be at least a mile for Alaska Airlines to fly their jets and less for the smaller planes.

At the counter of Era Alaska, I paid a little extra for a refundable ticket. As we waited in the small terminal, we talked with a friend who was going out to the tiny village of Kobuk. The fog had begun to clear but calls continued to come in from nervous travelers who were checking flight status for the day's flights. The fog continued to dissipate. Until the woman behind the ticket counter saw the pilots begin to walk up to the terminal, the answer to those inquiring travelers was always that we were in standby. I breathed a sigh when the status changed. Our flight took off soon thereafter.

Another amazement of spring is the increased daylight. As we stared out the restaurant's window on Front Street, we noticed young children playing out. Looking at my watch, I noticed the clock indicated 8:10 pm. Since the sun will not set until 11:35 pm tonight, our bodies are confused about what is our bedtime. Soon our youth will be out of school. Many of them will play out late into the night; some not returning home to their beds before early morning. This habit of daytime sleep during summer is deeply ingrained as their ancestors flipped the sleep cycles to take advantage of the cooler time of day for hunting and fishing.

To force our bodies to stay on their sleep cycle, we have to introduce artificial night to them. Shutting the blinds and closing the curtains tells our bodies that it is time to wind down for the day. I peer through the slats in the blinds in disbelief from time to time.

The miracle of living at the top of the world has been the hours of light in the sky throughout the year from no sunrises to no sunsets. Throughout the year I watch and wait for the sun to arrive as it moves around the Kotzebue horizon. From what direction will it arrive tomorrow, I wonder. Currently the sun is setting in the southwest and rising in the northeast.

Dirty water from melting ice collects in huge puddles on the gravel streets in this Eskimo village. On the few paved streets, the water finds other places to collect. The parking lot at Teacher Housing had a big lake towards Building A. The frozen ground stands as a barrier to the overwhelming bounty of water produced during the melt. Some of the water is drained with pumps by the Department of Public Works. As the sustained temperatures heat up the earth, the water soaks into the marshy soil. Gravel barged in from Nome is used to patch the potholes and ruts forming on the thoroughfares. Brown snow mixed with garbage and dirt is transported on loaders to areas near Swan Lake, the Lagoon, and the Kotzebue Sound.

Gone is the glittery, white blanket of winter. And with it, are the subzero temperatures when layers of clothing assured survival. The humidity in the air increases during the melt. We celebrate the warmer temperatures by wearing lightweight fleece jackets and short sleeve shirts. Sometimes even shorts will be worn. Rain boots replace bunny boots to keep our feet dry and cool. Even with all its ugliness, we celebrate the melt and the coming of spring. We say good riddance to the cold temperatures. For the transplants, we breathe a sigh of relief that we survived another winter above the Arctic Circle.