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.

Spring-like Conditions in Kotzebue

Cemetery Hill in the tundra outside of Kotzebue.

The weather has been beautiful in Kotzebue during the last week: bright, sunny and clear. While the temperatures continue to drop below zero nightly, the days rest comfortably in the single digits. As I sit here viewing the splendorous daylight, a sense of peace relaxes my muscles. Breathing in and out, I understand why those who have made Kotzebue their permanent home love the winter.

This morning is a freebie for me. It's a time to relax, enjoy the beauty, and think of friends and family in the Lower 48. Eager to join Rick in Anchorage this morning, I awoke at 4 am for a flight scheduled to leave at 8:36. However, other plans began to unfold as I checked the status for Alaska Airlines flight 151. It had been canceled. Just like that. After several calls to Alaska and rescheduling appointments, my itinerary had been changed and the morning was freed up.

Kotzebue Sound near the airport.

Rick and I had been discussing a trip out of the bush for well over a month. Leaving this Far North village every two months during the winter aids our endurance of the harsh climate. We normally return to Kotzebue renewed and refreshed. So my disappointment of having this morning's flight canceled weighed on my heart until I gazed outside at the frozen lagoon and snow piles recently plowed. This morning was an unexpected gift.

Much has happened here lately. Last week, the regional finals for basketball class A1 and A2 occurred in the gym at Kotzebue High School. Students from the nearby villages and as far away as Unalukleet descended upon this Eskimo community, located where the Selawik, Kobuk, and Noatak rivers converge. Beginning Tuesday, male and female basketball players arrived on charted planes for games beginning the following day. Throughout the week, these kids could be seen in clusters between games along Third Street with light green shopping bags carrying purchases from the local Alaska Commercial store.

Games in the Dawg House from Wednesday through Saturday held the attention of many in the community. Such excitement was felt while routing for teams comprised of children related to many of them. Residents were happy for the opportunity to see relatives from their past. High school basketball players slept in the classrooms and napped in the hallways of the school. Many late-night evenings were spent by these physically fit players wandering the "Big City" of Kotzebue promised excitement after escaping from the confines of their small villages.

Snow pile on the edge of the lagoon.

Huge snow drifts and piles from previous blizzards made the news in Anchorage recently. Photos and blog postings were used for reference material for stories written about the record snowfall in this remote area. Flights were canceled, residents were home-bound, and schools had snow days or closed early. But when the sun reappeared and the skies cleared, these huge mountains of snow became a concern for the city council. Public Works crews worked for days to haul snow piles out onto the lagoon and Swan Lake. Truckloads of snow were transported to the outskirts of town. Snow removal equipment instead of new computers may be purchased to handle the situation for future years.

The bright sun and abundance of snow has raised concerns of snow blindness. Due to the brightness of the sun's rays reflecting off the snow, people can experience temporary blindness. I will be purchasing sunglasses while in Anchorage this weekend as the effects of the glare have caused headaches the last couple of days.

Spring break is coming to the Northwest Arctic Borough. Instead of a full week, the youth receive two days off next Thursday and Friday (March 17 and 18). Alaska Airlines flights out have been full all this week as parents, teachers and others seek additional days of fun and relaxation away from the village.

Such high travel volume has affected the amount of mail and goods normally transported up on combie flights. Stores haven't quite completed their restocking from previous delays due to recent blizzards. Late packages has created a feast of famine situation at the post office. After more than two weeks, my new IPod finally arrived after being sent Priority Mail from Anchorage.

Kivalina.

Next week I fly to Kivalina to visit the club there and meet with stakeholders in the community. Kivalina is located 80 miles northwest of Kotzbue at the tip of an eight-mile barrier reef off the Chukchi Sea and Kivalina River. Due to serious erosion problems associated with climate change, this village of 380 Eskimos will someday be relocated for the second time. Huge boulders were barged up from a quarry near Nome to slow the loss of landmass falling into the ocean. From the air, the magnitude of the problem is easily seen. The unemployment rate is very high in this village, and a great number of residents depend on subsistence hunting and fishing to survive. This will be my third trip to this remote peninsula in the Arctic. I am looking forward to the visit.

Alaska Airlines terminal in Kotzebue.

Well a few hours have passed and the sun has lit up the frozen land. Meanderings of events filled this post while I await the departure of flight 152 to Anchorage. Sharing the morning with friends, family and others in this manner has ushered in feelings of closeness. Technology has brought us closer today than ever before. Enjoy the beauty of this day.

Note: This post was written last Thursday, March 10.

Waiting Out Another Storm in Kotzebue

Blowing snow and -40 degree temperatures in Kotzebue.

Living above the Arctic Circle offers many opportunities to reflect on life or at least have a hobby. For several days now, the blowing snow and temperatures far below zero Fahrenheit has kept us housebound. Winter sickness literally and figuratively has given way to a search for stimulus of different kinds. This winter hibernation in Kotzebue has sent me searching within and without.

The blowing snow reminds me that life Northwest Alaska was a lot different before technology caught up with it. HUD housing, snowgoes, ziplock baggies, the discovery of oil and minerals has created a society where winter hiberation brings depression, drunken binges, people freezing to death, and the death of a culture so deep and long that its preservation is of critical importance. Gone are the days of work to survive. While this may seem like a morbid subject to discuss in a blog, one only has to look around this wild land to see the signs.

When families lived in sod houses, the winter would be a time for craft projects. Harsh winters in buried snow, Eskimos kept busy doing bead work, sewing mukluks, skinning and tanning caribou hides, plucking snow-white ptarmagins. The arctic wind blew across the tundra on the coast. At temperatures of -40 to -50 below zero, men would run their dog teams across frozen rivers and valleys looking for meat to provide freshness to their preserved meat, seal oil, and berries. Survival alone was enough to keep them from idleness.

When the snow travelers arrived in the 1950s, life in this region changed forever. These auto crafts made hunting easier, travel to distant places more accessible, and the ready need for cash to buy gasoline and spare parts when they broke down. Now money had to be made; capitalism had begun to take hold. With the establishment of native corporations that were given the task of being profitable for their shareholders, a subsistence lifestyle was just about finished. Even the last holdouts from civilization were seduced by the advances of modern technology. There was no going back. Only through a blending of the old and the new will provide the path to a better future for the people of this region.

So what do Kotzebue residents do during these Arctic storms? There are the same things that people in the lower 48 do to entertain themselves and pass the days: television, video games, the Internet. Some get involved in such craft projects as quilting and beading, sewing, knitting, crocheting, and scrapbooking.

People also drink; some drink a lot. With the opening of the city-run package store, alcohol is easier to purchase and less expensive. Instead of paying $300 for a 750 milileter bottle of Candian whiskey on the bootleg market, citizens of Kotzebue with a registration card may pick up the same amount for less than $40.

Let us not get into the argument for or against prohibition. Remember that prohibition didn't work during the 1930s. It did not work in Kotzebue either. Controlling the sale of alcohol is a much wiser and more responsible solution to the alcohol consumption issue. The city police and Alaska State Troopers are doing a good job of minimizing the negative affects of freer alcohol consumption.

Weather like this instills a curiosity in weather itself. Accuweather.com is always open on one of the tabs on my Internet web browser. The 'Feels Like' temperature, which factors the temperature with windchill, is of particular interest. As I write this post, the temperature is -1 but with the windchill it is -35 degrees. Most people have never experienced subzero temperatures that low. We marvel at how a person can live in temperatures that cold but we spend most of our time indoors and therefore don't experience such extremes that often.


Rick and I discuss our next trip Outside. Where will it be? What is the purpose of the trip? Will we use air miles to defray the cost? Life is difficult above the Arctic Circle, and time away is necessary. Perhaps we will go to Seattle, maybe Portland or Reedsport on the Oregon Coast.

I gaze out the window of the living room window again. The wind continues to blow the light, whiteness obscuring our view. The day's light has gone; disappeared behind the hills of frozen tundra. Time between television commercials run together. Tomorrow's forecast includes more snow but less wind. Winter weather advisory by the National Weather Service is scheduled to end tomorrow at 6 a.m. Some of those questions and ponderings remain.

Weekend Away from Kotzebue

Tall drifts are fun for the kids on cold arctic days.

Late January and February are popular travel times out of Kotzebue. Seeking warmer climates, residents leave this village above the Arctic Circle for a weekend, weeks or even a month. Rick and I joined those many travelers the first weekend in February. As it turned out, the weather was warmer in this Eskimo village than in Anchorage and Girdwood. Go figure.

During this time of year, the temperatures dip so far below freezing that it can have deleterious effects on the body. The cold arctic wind blows during the day and howls at night. Breathing such cold air can effect a person's lungs. Faces unprotected display a ruddy color or scarring from previous rounds of frostbite.

Face masks, hooded parkies, ski pants, arctic bunny boots or Sorel glacier boots, along with heavily insulated gloves are a must for being outside. Recently I found and purchased a pair of insulated ski pants that would keep the arctic chill off. This is no easy task when temperatures can dip as low as -40 with or without the wind chill. Winter colds and flu runs through families and drives up absenteeism at the workplace. This kind of weather drives people into their homes or Outside.

The sun comes out to greet this Eskimo village earlier each day. We have been gaining seven minutes of daylight since the winter solstice December 22. As of today, there are 7.7 hours between sunrise and sunset. Scattered clouds bring the hope of warmer temperatures as the U.S. Weather Service is predicting snow early next week. We feel blessed to have the sun back. After its lazy showings in December, the sun rises higher in this polar sky.

So to help us endure the affects of such extreme weather, we travel either on business or for pleasure. For Rick and I, it was a combination of both when we stepped off the plane at Ted Stevens International Airport in Anchorage, Alaska.

We left Kotzebue last Thursday, the Alaskan-raised man flew out on Alaska Airlines on the afternoon flight 152 and I on 153. Barely making it on the terminal,  airline staff were close to sealing the door out to the tarmac. Rushing through check-in, Homeland Security quickly passed my computer tote and other belongings through the x-ray machine prior to walking out to the tarmac to board the plane. Snow was gently falling outside. I drew a few short breaths before entering the 737 combie.

The flight to Nome was turbulent. The plane was full of passengers but just one rolling pallet of cargo. During the longer flight to Anchorage, the turbulence was severe enough for the crew to cancel in-flight service after attempting to find some airspace with no bumps. The plane landed at the Ted Stevens International Airport at 10:30pm very close to on-time.

Rick met me on the other side of security. Wheeling my red leather bag out to the vehicle, he drove to Humpy's, a renowned Anchorage pub and seafood place, for a late-night dinner. Darkened lighting, voices, and music enveloped us as we walked through the glass doors. We began blinking our eyelids at the changed conditions. Toto, we're not in Kansas anymore. We sat at a tall table listening to the local band Woodrow while experiencing the culture shock civilization had caused.

Friday was a workday. Rick attended a couple of meetings and I went into our corporate headquarters to meet with our grant writers and work on some projects. Reconnecting with my co-workers is always a treat. During the quiet mornings and early afternoons at the clubhouse, they are a lifeline to me via mostly email. They also enjoy reconnecting as they rarely see their managers who live in mostly rural areas of Alaska. I come with stories of life in the bush. They offer ways to make work easier and how to tap into more resources for the region.

Eating out is something we look forward to on trips out of Kotzebue. We are privy to a wide variety of foods in Anchorage or Outside. We ate lunch at the Middle Way restaurant where they serve foods made with organic produce, whole grains, and light sauces. My heart was panging as I thought of my friend Rosemary, the rest of the editorial staff and the publishers at Northwest Magazines sitting down to potluck lunches on Tuesdays at their head office in Florence, Oregon. Other meals out included dinner at the Alaskan landmark Club Paris, breakfast at Cafe Amsterdam, and a lunch at Red Robin.

Driving the Seward Highway along Turnagain Arm.

Since the purpose of this trip included relaxation time, we drove down to Girdwood. This hip ski town is located off the Seward Highway between Anchorage and Whittier. Driving on the Alaska Highway System to another city is somewhat discombobulating.

Kotzebue, as well as most rural locations, is off the road system. Kotzebue is located on the Baldwin Peninsula 33 miles above the Arctic Circle. The village is only accessible by plane or barge. The closest hub city of Nome is available by plane, or by snow machine or dog sled during the winter.

At the Alyeska Resort, we had scheduled massages at this high-end skiing mecca. Upon our arrival on their circular driveway, we were greeted by a young man who valet-parked the Camry. The lobby of the resort is spacious and warm colors and stone textures gives the place a soothing feel. Their grand staircase led to a large open area on the second floor that contained a lounge with a view up the mountain, two gift shops and the spa. We opened the opaque glass doors and began to melt into the serene vibe of the place.

After receiving some hot tea and completing their questionnaire, we changed into the luxurious terry cloth robes and waited in silence with those who were either waiting for their appointments or attempting to extend their treatment by hanging around in comfortable chairs drinking lots of water or herbal tea. Ciri, a Girdie Girl, gave me a 50 minute, deep tissue massage while Rick received a relaxation massage.

Fully relaxed we drove the short distance off the hill to the Chair 5 Restaurant for a late lunch before heading back to Anchorage. This cool, rustic eatery is known for their pizza but they also serve very good burgers, sandwiches, salads, and soups. The restaurant is a local hangout after a day on the mountain. I was impressed by their taco salad, which is a feast of black beans, yummy salsa, tasty chicken and salad fixings layered on a bed of tortilla chips. Rick had the halibut and chips. Both were outstanding.

Sunset along Seward Highway outside of Girdwood.

We drove back to Anchorage in the late afternoon, fully relaxed and rejuvenated. The cold Alaska air filled the compartment when I rolled down the window to take photos of the snow covered mountains along the Turnagain Arm. Temperatures had dipped down into the teens while the tide rushed out exposing frozen ice on the bottom of this shallow tidal water.

We ate at the Tap Root for dinner and listened to local musicians rocking the packed house. The first act involved a acoustic guitar musician from Seward while the cover band was from Spenard, a former 'red light district' that had been incorporated into Anchorage. They were called Last Train. Awesome guitar playing, drums and three very good vocalists provided the impetus for people to get out of their chairs to dance on the parquet floor until after midnight.

On Sunday we awoke early for we had many errands to run. Travelers in from the villages normally make a grocery run before returning to their homes in remote areas where food is expensive and not very fresh. After finishing up the shopping, getting a haircut, purchasing vinyl fabric for an Eskimo drum-making project, and eating lunch at the Red Robin, Rick drove our silver vehicle to the airport. After checking in, he drove the Camry back to our friends' cottage, plugged the heated battery blanket into the box, and returned to the airport.

I did a little shopping and then called my dad for our weekly visit. During the call, two young girls sat down next to me and drew on their electronic sketch pads. One of the girls had spent an afternoon at the Kotzebue club. I drew a sketch of a woman with long black hair wearing an Eskimo parkie. Her sister drew the same with good skill. We enjoyed our time together before they returned to the gate where their mother was caring for their toddler brother.

Our weekend away was coming to a close. Soon we would walk down the tarmac and join the other passengers heading home to Kotzebue and Nome. Relaxed and well rested back to the Arctic where the temperatures were around 20 degrees and a light snow was falling. We headed back to temperatures that would soon return to well below zero and we were ready.

Spring is coming to this Far North village. With more daylight and warmer temperatures, soon the winter would be a vague memory. But until that time, we will stay warm in our apartment and venture out when necessary to handle day to day living in Kotzebue.

Snow Flurries in Kotzebue

Snow flurries and winds of 30 miles per hour dominate the air space outside the windows in our living room. Home for lunch, I look out over the lagoon and can barely see the runway lights even though visibility is about seven miles according to Accuweather.com. Winds off the tundra are sending snow drifts every which way.

Many Alaska Airline flights have been canceled this week making for travelers stuck either in Kotzebue, Nome or Anchorage. Village flights have also been canceled. I check the flight status for Flight 152 as Rick is scheduled to come in two hours after spending most of the week in Anchorage attending meetings. Alaska Airlines has this cool graphic that shows where the plane is and how close it is to Kotzebue.

Temperatures have warmed up considerably. Yesterday it was minus 8 degrees fahrenheit with a windchill tapping out around minus 35. As I sit on our leather loveseat looking out the living room windows, temperatures are nearly 10 degrees above zero.

The intensity of the blowing makes the van door difficult to open the door to the van when I came home for lunch. Pinching the hood of my down jacket around my face, my Columbia boots automatically shuffle over the parking lot to the open-grid stairs. The shuffle provide sure footing over compacted ice n its bumpy surface.

After putting away the organic produce from the Full Circle Farms box, I reach for a tapioca pudding cup leftover from when I had the stomach flu last week and pull a silver spoon from the drawer. Turning the tv onto HGTV, I pick up my laptop to check emails and stare out the wondow. Huge ravens soar bravely through the air. Daredevils all of them. With the tv on mute, I watch designers decorate homes for Christmas and wonder whether Rick's plane will land.

Due to the shortage of flights coming in, lines at the post office are sporadically out the door. Prior to driving home, I stop by the post office where lines are snaking around the Opening my box, I'm relieved to see there are no yellow cards again today. Seeing friends waiting in line, I stop to visit about Christmas plans next week. Cargo planes have been landed across the lagoon at weird times in an attempt to deliver packages when possible. The collection of packages arriving and departing are dominated by Priority Mail boxes and stickers this time of year.

I check the flight status again before heading back to work as the wind continues to blow the light-weight flakes.  Looks very probable that the plane will deliver my husband as it is on the ground in Nome.

Note: Rick called at 3:00 pm confirming that he had made it in. Relief washed over me and once again I praised our talented bush pilots.

A Sunday During Holiday Season in Kotzebue

The light has finally arrived today. The wind is blowing snow off the large pile on the lagoon's shore. Huge ravens balance on wind currents, obviously enjoying the cruise. Inside the dishwasher is running and steam erupts from the camp gear kettle. Pouring hot water over lose-leaf, green tea, I steep in the warmth of another cold day in the Far North.

It's quiet outside on this Sunday morning. Residents are either in church or beginning to wake from a long night's sleep. A plane departs the runway across the lagoon on a scheduled flight to one of the other villages. Snow flurries are expected today but as of yet I haven't seen any. Life is taking hold of this subzero day.

During most of the day, Christmas lights can be seen in patterns affixed to power poles, hanging over Third Avenue and on the exteriors of homes. Apartment windows are strung with flashing LED lights and an artificial Christmas tree draws a sharp contrast to the white snow of an occasional front yard. Big red bows and tree boughs, purchased from Alaska Commercial, decorate the front door of an apartment down the way from us. 

This weekend Kotzebue has been filled with holiday shoppers from neighboring villages. The tables were occupied by families waiting for Asian food or burgers at Empress Restaurant when we ate there yesterday. The bustle of Christmas shoppers at A-C was evident as we drove past on Main Street. Cars, four-wheelers and snow machines were parked outside Rotman's while inside lookers and buyers had flooded the store.

Another holiday bazaar took place yesterday at the Senior Center. The month of December is filled with them. Jeannette and I attended two last weekend, purchased handcrafted Eskimo gifts and munched out on enchiladas for lunch at the Catholic Church before heading to the Lions Club for a second holiday bazaar. Various churches sponsor them as well as the girls basketball team and others.

Daily lines out the lobby door are common at Kotzebue's small post office. Turning the key in the lock of our post office box, I have mixed feelings about what the small space may contain each day. While a yellow card indicates a gift or a much-anticipated mail order item, it will surely result in a wait in line for up to an hour before receiving it from a tired and over-worked postal employee at the single open window.

Friday there were two yellow cards in our box: one was a Christmas gift from Rick's parents and the other was a 40-pound box that contained a new flat screen t.v. for Rick. Definitely worth the wait.

Beginning tomorrow many residents will board flights to Anchorage on Alaska Airlines to finish their holiday shopping. The streets of the state's largest city will be filled with out-of-towners looking for unique gifts unavailable in the rural areas. As people from the smaller villages migrate to the larger villages of Kotzebue, Nome, and Barrow, residents of these larger villages will travel to Anchorage or Fairbanks.

With the sound of the dryer in the background, I count the days before our trip Outside. Just nine more days before we fly to the Bay Area to visit my family. Making the last arrangements for lodging and transportation to the Santa Rosa and Lake county areas, the excitement of travel courses through my veins. My heart sighs as the reality of seeing my dad, Tony, siblings, and others sinks in deeper. I look up from my laptop in time to watch the tail of a cargo plane as it turned towards the terminal on a snow-plowed runway. The light remains for another few hours. Hopefully we will make it out to the tundra to see the sunset at 2:49 pm.

End of the Journey to Anchorage

Mountains along Turnagain Arm.

Today was the day we ended our journey to Anchorage. On the road for nine days, it was good to see the Turnagain Arm and the 'Welcome to Anchorage' sign. The activities of each day have already begun to blur. The blog posts and tons of photos serve as a reminder to all of us. But before we say good bye to this road trip, following are the highlights of today:

Sleep came in restless spurts after consuming a rich meal at Jack Spratt's last night. After contemplating whether to sleep or get up, puttering around our luxurious room at the Alyeska Resort won out. Peering out between the dark drapes, the valley trees and nearby mountains were piled with snow. The first snow fall that stuck, the resort is optimistic about opening the ski season on Thanksgiving Day this year.

View from our room at the Alyeska Resort.

To melt away the aches of travel and a couple months of winter climate, Rick and I had appointments for treatments at the hotel spa. Entering the glass door, we entered the soothing atmosphere of the spa. Vapors of cypress wafted through the air. Young Heidi greeted us at the counter in a soothing voice. After giving us a short questionnaire to complete, we followed to some comfortable chairs where she offered beverages.

Heidi directed me to the changing room where a black wardrobe bag with a brass lock, a soft robe, and plastic slippers were stationed. Rick had been taken to a room by Heidi for his pedicure when I opened the door. Sarah greeted me and the now familiar smell of cypress surrounded her. Sarah had been doing stone therapy for nearly eight years, roughly the same amount of time she had been doing massage.

Periodic laughter erupted from outside the closed door to our room. Rick's voice settled my heart. He had been apprehensive about having a pedicure but his feet had suffered from the dry climate and freezing temperatures of Kotzebue.

When Sarah finished her magic,  I changed back into my sweats and headed back to our room where Rick was ready to check out. After taking our things down to the car, we settled up at the front desk. Turning our backs on the great hunter statue, we exited the lobby and settled into the Camry for the short ride to the Five Chairs Cafe in the Girdwood's new townsite. During the ski season, Five Chairs is a hopping place. Young, hip skiers and boarders enjoyed the great food and brews available at this dining establishment.

After lunch, we began the final 36 miles of our journey to Anchorage. With the tide rushing in, the Turnagain Arm was on our left. Steep mountains, with horned sheep at the high elevations, took up the right side of this stretch of the Seward Highway. Rick and I talked about returning to Kotzebue and the worked we enjoyed there.

We pulled up at the Dimond Center Hotel for our two-night stay. Pastel colors in the lobby, this hotel was esthetically pleasing. The hotel is owned by the Soldovia Tribe's native corporation.  Our room was painted in a dark teal color with light wooded furniture. A layout similar to the Cannery Pier Hotel in Astoria, the large bathroom contained a deep soaking tub.

After more than 3,000 miles, the Camry was due for a bath and an oil change. While waiting for the oil change, I engaged in an activity typical of someone out from the bush -- I shopped! Where to go first? Very exciting! After navigating the car wash, the shiny Camry felt like a new car as I zoomed back to the hotel to pick up Rick for dinner.

We went to the Moose's Tooth Restaurant for dinner. A local hangout, this brewpub is famous for its pizza. Enjoying some long-sought over pizza, we had our fill and headed back to the hotel where I am now completing the final post for this trip. With Star Wars: The Phantom Menace playing on tv and sitting in a comfortable chair, we ended our journey. Wednesday morning I will return to Kotzebue. Rick will follow on flight 153 that night.

Even though we took a more relaxed approach to Anchorage in our final days, we still arrived within our scheduled date. While weather in late October can be quite unpredictable, we encountered very little weather-related hurdles to climb. The gorgeous country one would never see without traveling the Alaska Highway was enjoyed by us and those who read of our journey.

Though this journey is complete, the one of our lives in Kotzebue is still unfolding. This medium will be used for periodic postings of our life in a place thirty-three miles above the Arctic Circle. We return to this place with new experiences waiting to be shared. Until then, good bye dear family and friends.

Valdez to the Alyeska Resort in Girdwood, AK

The room was dark when I awoke at the Best Western Valdez Harbor Inn. Not having completed the blog post for yesterday, I felt an urgency to finish writing it. Today we would take the scenic route across the Prince William Sound and head to Girdwood for a night of luxury at the Alyeska Resort. For the trip over on the fast ferry, our travel companions from yesterday would help us while away the three-hour ride.  The pleasantness of this day surpassed other days on this long route to Anchorage.

The Best Western serves a hearty free breakfast off the lobby of the hotel. The NASCAR races were playing on the tv. A man from Tennessee, contracted to work with the refinery, explained what he knew of racing and the interesting project Valdez had undertaking to produce fuel from the oil piped down from Prudhoe Bay. Alaskans pay the highest cost for fuel and produce the greatest amount of oil in the country. This had to change! 

After a breakfast of scrambled eggs and sausage, we packed up and checked out of the hotel. The snow fell in heavy clumps while Rick loaded up the Camry while I attempted to finish yesterday’s post. The white stuff had accumulated on the roof of our dirty vehicle overnight. The roads had been plowed but the ride was bumpy from freshly falling snow on the way to the ferry terminal.

Upon pulling up to the gate, our companions had arrived previously and were outside throwing snowballs to their golden retriever. With a happy tail wagging, she raced after the condensed ball of snow. Goldens live to fetch. 

Before the MV Chenega arrived, we hung out with our newfound friends, watching their golden and chatting about our destination and our travels. As the large catamaran pulled up to the new dock, waves pushed against the cement pad where our cars were lined up in three rows. 

The car at the front of the line stalled while engines were running in the surrounding vehicles. After a good jump, the lead car was ready to go two cars in front of us. Other cars had filed in ahead of their Jeep as we waited our turn in the row behind their car. Up to the ramp and then stalling out, the crew gathered together to push their car onto the catamaran and out of the way. 

After parking the car and acquiring things from the Camry, we made our way up the staircase to the passenger deck. Seeing Austin, I inquired where they had parked. We brought our things to the table behind them and after our departure, sat with them for a long game of Hearts taking breaks for sightseeing. 

Nellie had done interpreting on the slow ferry some years before and pointed out some of the highlights, including where the oil tanker had run aground near Valdez back in 1989. The sky was gray with a mixture of snow and rain falling as the ship passed snow covered mountains and glaciers near fingers of the Prince William Sound. A hump back whale showed his back and flopped his tail outside our window while the ship traveled at 32 knots.

Begich Towers, Whittier.

The approach to Whittier is always met with wonderment. How could an entire town live in one building? What was the massive gray structure tucked into the side of the mountains? With the longest tunnel in North American at the outskirts of town, when would Anchorage-bound traffic to pass through? At the same time, travelers are met with a sense of awe at the incredible beauty of this town nestled into huge mountains at the edge of the Prince William Sound. 

Note the number of cm's.

Not wanting our visit to end, we exchanged business cards as the vessel neared the dock. We said goodbye while other passengers had already headed down to the lower level where their cars were parked. Racing back to the Camry somewhere in this sea of parked cars, we prepared to disembark for a late lunch in Whittier. 

Ghosts hung from strings outside Whittier's only hotel. The Anchor Inn, a local hangout was probably open but decided to have a fancy meal instead of burgers. Entering this hotel with wooden pillars, we stepped into a place unlike the rest of Whittier. We walked to the bar on the slate floors, looking for a fast meal before the tunnel opened.


We wanted to connect with Mike, a friend who used to work with Rick when he was the city manager in Whittier but didn't have his phone number. Being such a small town, the woman at the front desk and the bartender reached him at home. 

While I made my weekly call to Dad, he showed up in the lobby not knowing who had summoned him. With a look of surprise, he greeted me in the lobby with hugs and then entered the bar where Rick was watching the Oakland Raiders game. After an hour visit, we said goodbye and headed for the tunnel hoping to pass through the 4pm opening. 

Driving through this endless tunnel, we recalled the video I took of the tunnel through a mountain outside of Portage two years ago. Emerging from the tunnel, the Portage glacier could be seen in the distance with a newly formed lake in front of it. When Rick first saw the glacier in 1967, it could teach it from the parking lot. It has receded so much that it can barely be seen from there. 


Instead of stopping at the visitors center, we continued on the Seward Highway to Girdwood while the snow continued to fall. Turning off the highway, we drove into the town made famous by Ted Stevens and the Alyeska Resort. Driving the hill, the excitement mounted as I remembered our previous visit in 2008. 

Walking into the lobby, we encountered an ivory whale and a hunter and spear. Above the two story lobby, is a platform contained a full-sized, stuffed polar bear. For an additional $20, we upgraded to a room with a view of the valley and picked up the spa menu for tomorrow's treatments.


A bellhop brought up our luggage while I scouted the ice machine to fill the silver, lined bucket. After settling in, Rick dressed for dinner and then headed down to the bar on the second floor to watch the late-night football game while I finished yesterday's blog post. 


In the quiet room with dark colored wood accents, I finished the blog and dressed for dinner at Jack Sprat's. Meeting Rick at the bar, we made our way through the soft snow to the Camry for the short drive to this local hangout. The well-lit, a-framed building was located near the sourdough bakery where we hoped to eat breakfast tomorrow.

We were greeted by one of the two owners of this upscale restaurant and taken to our table in the a-framed window at a corner table. Attempting to find the right wine to pair with our fish dishes, we solicited the server's help. Soon the partner brought out three bottles of wine and recommended the Martin Codax Albarino from Spain that would produce jealous remarks from our friends who love Spanish wine. 

For dinner, Rick had the pan-seared Idaho trout piled on top of baby spinach, julienne veggies and a champagne, caper-berry sauce. I ordered the pan-fried ling cod atop couscous, veggies, and a balsamic sauce. Outstanding! For dessert, we shared a baked apple with a pastry crust, apple crisp topping, and fig gilato. Out of this world. We sipped decaf coffee in an afterglow of this most outstanding meal made from local ingredients and absolutely fresh.


Our server rang up our bill and encouraged to return for their special Thanksgiving dinner. We would return someday. Sliding on the snow-layered road, Rick guided the Camry onto the street for the short drive to the resort. What an outstanding end to a day of new friends, beautiful scenery, and excellent food. What a blessing. Tomorrow we will complete our journey to Anchorage from the Lower 48.

Slower Pace from Tok to Valdez

Mountains between Tok and Valdez.

Saturday was the first day of our more relaxed schedule. Instead of traveling up the rest of the Alaska Highway to Fairbanks, we decided drive to Valdez and later to Anchorage. There's a lot more snowfall on the coastal routes, which made for some gorgeous views and snow-covered roads.

Waking up in a log cabin under a moose quilt in Tok, we took our time getting ready for breakfast. The landmark restaurant Fast Eddy's had become our dining choice. The roads of Tok were quiet after the Halloween festivities at the K-12 the night before. After breakfast, we purchased gas for the trip to Valdez, checked out of the cabin and then began the trek southwest.

Restaurants along the Tok cutoff and then Glenn Highway are few and most have already closed for the winter. While we were not hungry enough to eat, we stopped in the larger community of Glenallen expecting to find something open. A combination gas station, convenience mart and gift store was our only choice. After perusing the gifts and using the facilities I purchasing a pizza stuffed pretzel from the young cashier behind the counter. She was from Salt Lake City but had moved to Glennallen with her boyfriend to be closer to his parents. 

Back on the road, the snow began to blow in tiny flakes. On both sides of the road, freshly plowed snow piled up. Mountains from the Alaska Range were so close you could reach out and touch them. Narrow valleys between these tall giants were obscured by the grayness of falling snow. Bumpy roads that had been plowed too many times kept Rick occupied while I opened and closed the window on the passenger side to capture some of the awesome beauty we kept seeing. 

When we neared the Thompson Pass, Rick mentioned the long descent that would ensue on the west side of the mountains. At an elevation of more 2700 feet, the car's descent would go on for miles. The snow continued to fall and deep pockets of snow revealed themselves as we made the descent. Alongside the road, there were happy snow trompers on holiday from Valdez. 

The Trans-Alaska Pipeline appeared close to the road now and again. More than 800 miles of oil transported from Prudoe Bay crescendos at transport stations in Valdez. Offloaded onto barges for the lower 48,  millions of dollars worth of oil were flowing through that pipeline while bald eagles perched on branches watched for food along the Robe River. Several were sighted flying around various parts of the river's delta, and we continued our descent.

Valdez is located on the Prince William Sound near Cordova, Rick's old stomping grounds as a kid; and Whittier, where he had spent two and a half years as a city manager. We drove the streets of this wealthy city looking for a hotel to stay for the night. After scoping out the possibilities, we settled on the Valdez Best Western. We rented a king room with a view of the harbor on two sides. The heat had been turned off and the room was cold when we entered. 

View from our room at the Best Western

We rushed to unpack and made our way to the Pipeline Room, a local hangout built at the same time as the Alaska pipeline. In its younger days, the bar was frequented by pipeline workers. We met the bartender at the door. He informed us the bar wouldn’t open for another half hour we could go across the street to Sharkbites for food and to watch the Ducks game.

Across the threshold of the darkened room, a blonde woman in her fifties was bartending and a fisherwoman was having a slow drink at the bar. Big screen tv with the Ducks game playing. A twenty-something couple decked out in Ducks gear cheering. The girl's father was visiting from Wisconsin. Rand had passed up on an opportunity to work in Alaska when his two daughters were young but passed it up due to the weather extremes. Nelli had much love for her father. She and her husband are working to prevent a mining operation from setting up shop on Bristol Bay where the largest population of salmon are found.

We ordered pizza from next door and watched the Ducks beat USC while people filtered in and out of the bar. Three women dressed in Halloween contests make a grand entrance. Guys off from work took up residence at the end of the bar. 

Cheering for the Ducks in the smoke-filled bar, we asked ourselves whether they still allow smoking in Alaska bars? Clothes smelling of smoke and two beers later, the fourth quarter ended with the Ducks stomped on the Trojans. Our fellow Duck fans, dressed in yellow and green, walked over to the Pipeline Club for dinner while we drove back to our room. Snow was falling in large flakes.

Taking a slower pace today meant giving into impulses to do the unexpected. It brought us in contact with people from different parts of the country and outside of our pattern of movement. Gorgeous mountains, snow-leveled roads, a couple of waterfalls, and some bald eagles were in our route.

Back in Alaska

After attending a live performance at the Yukon Art Centre last night, we arrived back at the Westmark Hotel for our last evening in Canada. Entitled ‘Up There,’ the three artists shared stories of the Far North, the Canadian Far North that is. These biographical tales were interwoven with music and song that had the audience laughing at the beginning and tearful at the end. Two of the performers were from Whitehorse and the other Yellow Knife, Yukon Territory.

Thinking about my experiences in Alaska, I understand that these short stories have roots in the air. Only after many generations could one claim his experiences of the Great White North are rooted deep in the earth.

We set the alarm for 7 am, instead of our usual 6, and finally crawled into bed well after midnight. When the alarm rang this morning, the darkness of the night lingered as we repacked our suitcases and exited the Presidential Suite. I walked to the nearby Starbucks for coffee and a chai latte while Rick checked out at the front desk. This lone coffee kiosk was the only one I remembered seeing while traveling along the Alaska Highway.

After gassing up, we made our way towards Haines Junction on the old familiar. A little town of 840 persons, Haines Junction was touted as having four restaurants, hotels, a gas station, museum, and other amenities. The snow was falling when we pulled into town. 

After the third closed sign, we found a restaurant at Al-Can Motel with a neon sign that said ‘OPEN.’ Our server was a petite Yukoner wearing a smile and stylishly layered shirts under her hoodie. The basic breakfast included hasbrowns that had been battered and fried crispy, eggs with lightly colored yolks and thickly sliced wheat bread. For another couple bucks, you could have your choice of meat: bacon, split-fried sausage, or ham.

Grateful for this open restaurant, Rick gave our young server the last of our Canadian money and a few dollars American for the tip. At the junction, we turned left and headed west towards the border. The roughest road of the trip lay between Haines Junction and the Canadian border and the snow continued to fall lightly onto the powdery build up. Breezy conditions made the snow dance in swirls as we followed a semi-truck out of town.

The road climbed steadily upward towards the tallest pass between Whitehorse and Fairbanks, only 15 miles from the little town we left behind. At more than 3,200 feet elevation, we were up and over it in no time.

Huge mountains of gargantuan proportion lay ahead at an upcoming turn in the road, mountains of which there are few equal. The St. Elias Mountain Range includes the tallest in the Yukon at 19,250 feet. Mt. Logan, and its siblings, stood tal against the blue and gray sky. Destruction Bay in the foreground, I snapped a bunch of pics between ahhs and wows. The road crossed Destruction Bay and followed the base of these snow-capped beauties.

As we neared the border several hours later, our hungry grew. Beaver Creek was the planned stop. The Milepost had promised this border town of 102 included year-round restaurants and is only 113 miles to Tok. The first restaurant was in the process of closing up for the winter, two others were also closed, but at last we stopped at a Race Track Gas station for a sandwich and a beverage to go. Our twenty-something cashier works as a manager at the Beaver Creek Westmark during the summer and for the store during other times.

Back on the road we drove for awhile until nearing the Canadian border crossing. Just before crossing, we stopped at the ‘Welcome to Alaska’ sign and interpretative kiosk for pictures. Rick’s happiness brimmed over as we celebrated our accomplishment. At once the signage along the road was instantly recognizable. Those old familiar speed limit signs in miles per hour were posted along the highway’s shoulder. No more conversion to metric. The freshly paved highway lay in front of us with less than 100 miles to our evening destination.

The crossing is similar to that of a toll booth at a bridge, not nearly as imposing as the crossing into Canada from the south. Snapping a few photos, we sped through without stopping. The U.S. border stop was 30 kilometers ahead. At this small crossing, the lights above the lanes were red. As we cautiously moved forward, the border guard waved his arms to stop. The light never did turn green but the man motioned us to move slowly forward. Before reaching the gate, a camera flashed to the left of us, imprinted in time. 

Driving into Tok, my muscles began to ease. Located at the confluence of the Alaska Highway and Highway 1, we had traveled the roughest roads to arrive at our first Alaska destination. We drove by motels, Fast Eddy’s Restaurant, and other restaurants and services. There is a good-sized school building and an Alaska Department of Resources office in this community of  more than 1,400 persons. A traveler can drive to Whitehorse, Anchorage, Fairbanks or Valdez from Tok.

Caribou Cottages Cabin #1

When we pulled into the secluded parking lot for the Caribou Cottages Bed & Breakfast, the door to the log-styled home opened and we were greeted by Kris and Carrie. After a brief conversation and payment, we drove the short distance to Cabin 1. Opening the door to the log cabin, the warm air drifted out. This small cottage came equipped with a small Jacuzzi tub, and upstairs loft, microwave, refrigerator, tv and WiFi.

After unloading all of our gear, we reviewed our travel arrangements and decided to take a more relaxed approach to the final leg of our journey. The coziness and warmth of this little cabin was intoxicating. A good meal and a relaxed evening were needed after so many days on the road. Another day of experience in the Far North was complete.