Tag Archives: Alaska

Reflections

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At 18, when I moved out of my parents’ house and moved to San Francisco, I had my first taste of feeling really alive. I remember days when I would walk around the city and I felt this incredible high. I didn’t know it then, but it would be a taste I would always crave…life. When I moved away from the city, I let myself fall into a rut some might call “The American Dream.” Marriage, large house, child, career track and decades down the road a retirement plan hanging like a piece of magical fruit that would make the hours, days, weeks and years slogging through a job I didn’t particularly like all worth it.

From time to time I, experienced flashes of the feeling I’d experienced in San Francisco. But hemmed in by the walls of the rut I was in, these flashes only left me feeling antsy. I needed to do something. I thought it was an itch to travel. So I quelled the feeling by planning little trips. I distracted myself with little projects and little classes. The choice of the diminutive word “little” is with purpose. The activities were small gestures designed mainly to let me avoid looking at the larger sense of dissatisfaction with my life. The BIG need.

Up here in Shishmaref, Sundays are devoted to tasks like laundry and baking–tasks that allow me to engage in reflective thinking. Lately I’ve begun to notice that the antsy feeling is gone. The need for something vibrant in my life is satisfied. When I saw Shishmaref from the sky for the first time, tears came to my eyes. I felt alive. I felt like I was doing something. Over the past few weeks, I have realized that I have always felt I was meant to live an extraordinary life. The life I initially chose for myself as a young adult couldn’t have been a worse fit. I was not meant to live a life of safe routines. This is not to say I’m an extremist and want to live on the edge. But it does mean that I enjoy doing things off the beaten path. Generations ago, living in Shishmaref would have been hard. Living in Shishmaref now is extraordinary–not extreme, but out of the ordinary. I am experiencing a life that isn’t usual. I still walk my laundry to the machines every weekend (today I had to plow through fresh, powdery, knee-high snow), and take out the trash (and then burn it at the dump every couple of months) and shop for groceries (in a sparsely appointed store that would fit many times over in the Safeway where I used to shop)…This life is very un-rut like. I feel like I’m living the life that I was intended to live.

We took a big risk moving up to the Alaska bush. We (foolishly) accepted the first two jobs we were offered without doing much research. Our haste contributed to a year that at times has been rocky. But in taking this risk, we discovered that we love living in the bush. We feel alive here. Moreover, working up here puts an infinite number of summer adventures at our fingertips.

With risk comes the chance to lose, and to lose big. But by taking a risk, there is the opposing chance…the chance to win, and to win big. I feel like I am winning…really big.

That taste I had of life many years ago in San Francisco is now part of my regular diet. It manifests itself in feelings of happiness, freedom, adventure and love. There is a contentment that penetrates to the marrow of my bones. It almost feels as though my heart has struck a new rhythm. A smile comes to my face more often. I feel lucky to finally be living an extraordinary life.

Last week in Shishmaref

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The good, the bad, and the tasty this week.

The bad. We heard that every year about this time, there is a lice breakout. I don’t know enough about lice to know if the eggs hibernate until a certain temperature, or what happens. I have learned more about lice this year than I ever wanted to know! The only bugs that I have seen up here are flies and tiny red spiders that live outside. We missed the short window of mosquitoes in the summer. This has been an unusual year in the sense that there have been several outbreaks of lice. It has become such a big issue that they are shutting the school down next week, during our spring break, to thoroughly clean. It’s a bit of a drag for us because we shower and do laundry at the school. Fortunately, we have a friend who lives in a house with running water, so we’ll have a backup plan. Makes me itchy every time I think about it.

The good. We saw the most amazing display of northern lights last week. The lights, when visible, can be seen anywhere from 11 p.m. to 3 or 4 a.m. Those are sleeping hours for us. The first time we saw the lights, it was because someone pounded on the door to wake us. Last week, I was shocked awake by Jack jumping up out of bed exclaiming “the lights” as he looked out our bedroom window. Apparently, people were banging on our door and throwing snowballs at our bedroom…I didn’t hear any of it.

I didn’t bother taking my camera out because I didn’t think I could capture them. You’d think because we are so far north, the aurora borealis would be seen all the time. Because of the path of the lights, this has only been the third night this winter that we’ve seen a decent display of the aurora. Imagine looking up at the sky and seeing greenish swirls above and all around. By the horizon, we saw just a hint of purple in the lights. They traveled and moved swiftly. They are said to dance. They curved and morphed from streaks to bands before my eyes. Beautiful and amazing.

The tasty. The week ended with pecan turtle bars. A soft butter cookie base with a buttery, sugary, carmel-y layer covering chopped pecans. The whole cookie was then blanketed with swirled melted semi-sweet chocolate chips. They were cut in small pieces in order to enjoy one or two with less guilt. Oh, my!

McKay’s Buntings

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My hat’s off to great bird photographers. Birds are difficult subjects. Watching us intently with expressive little faces, these fat McKay’s Buntings tolerated us getting within about 25 feet before  flying away. Their feathers were fluffed up for warmth, making them look roly poly. Today was a gorgeous day to try and capture them:  icy clear skies and 6 degrees above zero.

Moonscape

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As I look from the sea wall out onto the frozen sea, I think this is what the moon must look like…

 

Frozen Wave Breaking

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The cold bright sun causes changes in the snow and ice.  As the light and temperature changes, there are more photographic opportunities to capture Mother Nature’s art.

I love the interplay of the shadows and the sparkle of the snow as this wave is seemingly frozen in time.

Chores ala Shishmaref

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Today is Sunday. The beginning of the week. Chore day.

Some of the chores we have to do are usual. Today is our scheduled day for laundry. The staff all have a schedule to follow in order to equitably share the washers and dryers. When I used to rent my home, I used to basket up my laundry and drive over to the laundromat. Here, the basketing-up is the same. It’s the short hike over to the classroom which houses my assigned washers and dryers which is different. In the fall, the walk was over sand. Some Sundays, my walk is fighting against wind and icy temperatures. Today, my path was elevated by a few feet of packed down snow. Besides the venue, the laundry is the same laundry chore.

Most Sundays, I bake. This weekend, I baked more than usual. I always bake one loaf of bread. This loaf is for sandwiches to take for lunch during school. With only a few months of school left, I looked over what is in our pantry. It’s time to start using things up. I found bags of craisins and a can of pureed pumpkin. The aroma of pumpkin-craisin bread is now filling the house. There is bread available at the store, but the prices keep me baking at home. I’ve also come to really enjoy this chore and can see always baking my own bread. This weekend, I also made pizza dough. Again, at over $10 per frozen pizza, it’s cheaper, and fun and easy to make our own.

Every six weeks or so, we have to fill our water tank. We have a 300 gallon water tank inside our front door. A really basic electric pump sits next to it and pumps water into the kitchen and the bathroom sinks. We are really conservative with our water use so that we don’t have to fill it so often. As soon as it gets down to about 60 gallons, it’s time to refill. We are lucky, in the sense that we live right across from the school. There is an industrial-style spigot on the school porch that we run a hose from. The hose is long enough to cross the road and then is threaded through a hole in the wall and into the tank. We’ve got the whole process down to about a half an hour. Other staff members have to take a portable 150 gallon tank and fill it at the school and then take it home and transfer the water into their home tanks using a pump. A few of the lucky staffers have homes with “city water” which means they don’t have to deal with hauling water at all.

Today, the spigot on the school porch was frozen. It’s been hovering from 0 to 9 degrees. What to do? Simple solution…a blow torch quickly thawed the situation and we were seemingly ready to go. All right, one end hooked to the school and the other threaded into the tank, water turned on…and no water. Seems the last person who used the hose didn’t take all the water out, so the hose was frozen. Bring the hose inside to let it thaw and move on to the next chore…

Trash. We’ve waited a long time to dump trash. The last time we did it, we used the school truck and drove out to the dump. Now, the school truck is buried under a few feet of snow and will remain in hibernation until the spring thaw. Our dumpster is full. Jack had to locate the school’s snowmobile and sled. Once it was located, Jack and our friend Brian loaded up the sled with our two dumpsters’ contents and snowmachined out to the dump where they will burn it all. So far, no hitches on this chore. I’ll see what happened when they get home. The dump is an interesting place…there might be scavengers there…birds, foxes, or even a polar bear!

It feels good to have everything clean and filled. It was a beautiful sunny day. The house smells like a bakery. Life is good.

Dreams of Fireweed and Chamomile

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Yesterday, it stormed so hard that school was closed. To put this into perspective, our school is never closed. One of the teachers told me throughout her past eight years she has been at Shishmaref School, there has only been one day closed for weather.

The wind is coming from the south, which means it’s warm. It’s bringing wet snow. The gusts strain to knock me over on my short commute to school.

No planes bring people in to town or take people away. No mail leaves or comes in. Everything stays still until the storm passes.

I remember snow days when I was in first and second grade. (This was in the state of New York) I remember excitedly listening to the radio and cheering when we didn’t have to go to school. It was bonus time. I don’t remember having to make up days to make sure we had the required number of school days. I was too young to notice.  Maybe we did.

In Shishmaref, we make up the days. If we close school, then we make it up on the following Saturday. That sort of takes away the enchantment of snow days.

This kind of storm is dreary. It’s no fun to go out and walk. It’s no fun to look at the world through the veil of soggy falling snow.

So, I look at my photos of the beautiful fireweed from last summer. And I dream of the fireweed and chamomile I will harvest in the Kenai this coming summer. Maybe a cup of hot cocoa and a movie will help distract me from the soggy storm.

Mother and Child

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Have I said already that I am a big fan of Edwin’s work?

This piece is carved from reindeer antler. As I imagined, he saw the antler and immediately saw the shapes of the mother and child, and carved the antler to release their images. The small black dots are inlaid baleen. The decorative spray fan is also made from whale baleen. The faces of both mother and child are joyful and sweet which is a mark of Edwin’s work.

Fireweed

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Alaska’s state flower is the forget-me-not. My choice for the state flower is fireweed. This magenta beauty thrives in open areas. Up close, it stands tall and proud. From a distance, it colors entire mountainsides. Magnificent.

I had never seen fireweed until our first venture into Alaska. When I look through my past photos, my love for this flower is obvious. I have shots of it alone, mixtures of fireweed blended with other wildflowers, and meadows and mountainsides blanketed by this beauty. There is something appealing about a flower that thrives in the aftermath of a possible disaster and is the beginning of new growth for a burned out area. It’s the picture of hope.

Since my introduction to the flower, I have learned this plant also has culinary benefits. Last summer, I tasted it in a natural plant stir fry. I also have tasted fireweed tea. The dried tea in a jar was beautiful, too. Next summer I plan to harvest some to work with in the winter and try it out for myself.

Frozen Paradise

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It was about 2 o’clock in the afternoon. The snow had stopped and the clouds broke. The slanted sun rays kissed the freshly fallen snow. The sky was painted with pinks and oranges. The sunshine looked…warm. But don’t let the sun rays fool you. The village thermometer read 12 degrees at the end of our walk. A couple of hours later, the village thermometer fallen to 6 degrees. I think I’m finally getting the winter weather I’ve been asking for.