10. Wandering in Alaska

June 11, 1994

Greetings everyone with more notes from North Pole,

Even though I have described Alaska as being a land of extremes, I was not prepared for my recent excursion. Last month, the ranger futures management team had to fly to each of the Alaska parks and assist with implementation of the new program. We flew 5,000 miles throughout the state and saw its incredible variety. At least there was one ray of sunshine in selling a program I did not agree with!

Remember the old saying, "It's not the end of the world, but you can see it from there"? Well, I encountered this with a new twist. Kotzebue is 25 miles above the arctic circle and you have to look back along your path to see the end of the world. On the flight in, I found that there is a real difference between sunlight that reflects off of snow and that off of ice. It was so bright in the airplane that I was having to squint behind my sunglasses. When I tried to use the camcorder, without dark glasses, the world became a white out and I could not see a thing. This part of Alaska was already having 16-17 hours of daylight. But warmth will be a long time coming. Daytime temperatures were barely going above zero.

Then we arrived at Kotzebue. An Eskimo village of about 3,000 people, located on a small peninsula in the Chukchak Sea. None of the houses (using the term very loosely) are more than 15' apart or 5' off the road (again using the term loosely). When we walked through town we were careful to make sure that the dogs (wolves?) at houses on either side of the road were not positioned (with logging chains that could reach the centerline) opposite one another. Felt like a drunk swerving from one side of the street to the other dodging these huge animals. They must pull damn big sleds.

Luckily we were up here in the off season. Only had to pay $125 for a room at the Nullagvik Hotel. Alaska truly is the land of unique experiences. Some only take one go-round to implant indelible memories. This was my first experience in a shower so small that I had to open the door in order to bend over and pick up the soap I dropped. The showerhead was about 4' off the floor and bending over to wash my hair (uh, beard) meant sticking my bare rear against a cold glass door. They don't waste energy on frivolous things like heating (no controls in the rooms). Everything has to be shipped in during the summer and stored for the winter. Fish sandwiches are the item of choice in the restaurants (they have 2) as hamburgers are $7.50. Tried blubber dipped in seal oil. Can't recommend it. Incredibly nourishing they say; but greasy, raw, rancid whale fat is not haute cuisine! I wish someone had offered me the advice for eating blubber ─ swallow fast, that chunk only gets bigger as you chew it!

The southern leg of our trip was as beautiful as the northern leg was fascinating. We flew among the fjords of the Seward peninsula and watched whales in the sea below. Learned real fast to tell the pilot that we were not interested in a close up view. He had a tendency to quickly dive down low so we could see them "real good". We had a tendency to look at the rapidly approaching ocean rather than the whales. The pilot looked Alaskan, with a big red beard, and a moustache so long and bushy that you could not see his mouth. Kind of interesting to watch him take a bite of food without trimming his moustache with his teeth.

Going into Acaudate, we flew over a glacier that is larger than the state of Rhode Island. Most days were clear, but we did experience some of the infamous rain. Going into Katmai we were trapped, by thunderstorms, in a canyon so narrow that the pilot had to lower the wheels to create enough drag to turn around. To get above the clouds, he climbed to 14,300', in a plane without oxygen! He did tell us to breathe shallowly, we would only be up here an hour. But; we should let him know if anyone started seeing pink elephants ─ from oxygen deprivation. It sure was good to land and hear the usual announcement, "Well, made it again!". Bush pilots have a wonderful outlook on life.

Ranger-pilots share the same outlook. For instance, there was a caribou hunt last fall. My pilot and a maintenance employee flew into a hunting location, walked across muskeg (swamp) until they had reached the limit of their ability to haul meat back to the plane. Miraculously, a small caribou moved into range for an easy shot. As they walked up to the kill the hunter said to the pilot, "Sometimes luck is with you. This animal is enough meat for the winter and small enough to carry to the plane." The pilot responded that luck was a relative term. When asked for an explanation, he stated that it was relative to the amount of meat the bears wanted. Sure enough, two grizzlies were eating blue berries a short distance up slope. Showing his bush savvy and leadership ability, the pilot said, "You skin him out, while I watch the bears". Now the maintenance man assures me that it's not easy to keep your head down, concentrate on skinning a caribou, not cut off a finger in the process, and depend on your buddy to use good judgment in deciding if the bears are getting too close. Luck did prevail as the hunters improved the speed of their skinning (but not their skill). The winds did not carry the smell of fresh meat up slope, the hunters got their winter rations, and the bears were left a generous portion of the kill for an evening meal.

The sun is now setting at about 11:30pm and coming back up about 3:30am. There is a kind of dusk in between but a flashlight is never required. The sun is well up by the time I go out to get my newspaper at 5:30am. I guess this is why I threw caution to the winds, a few mornings ago, and simply went on automatic pilot enjoying the morning rather than paying attention to what was going on around me (not wise in Alaska). Nothing augments decision making faster than standing with one hand in the newspaper box and staring eyeball to eyeball with a cow moose less than 15' away (damn they look big from that distance) but, luckily for me, the calf was on the other side of her. Should you be very still, since they seem more curious than upset, or do you throw caution to the winds and run like hell? If total panic seems the appropriate response, is it wiser to continue down the road at a mad dash, wearing nothing but a bathrobe, or does modesty demand a turn into the driveway and hope to make it to the front door before the moose? In the split second that it took me to opt for total panic and the hell with modesty (town is only 3 miles away and someone would lend me a phone to call Diana), the cow went back to feasting on the young willows at the roadside. No longer being at full panic (just a mild case of total fear), I opted for a different alternative and slowly backed up the road, down the drive and into the house. However Alaskans always manage to adapt, and a half hour later, I had no problem holding the newspaper and a cup of hot coffee. No more autopilot for me.

But the light is here and its travel time in Alaska. We are looking forward to a summer of friends. Trevor Arthur was here, from Australia, last week. The Nichols and Floyds, from Wyoming, will be here in a couple of weeks. Diana's Uncle and Aunt, Ken and Dreda Pitchford from Arkansas, are visiting in July. And the season's finale will be Richard and Martha Guraedy, from Louisiana, in September. We plan on having a lot of fun seeing the "Last Frontier" with these folks. In the meantime, Diana and I intend to enjoy this part of the world. Time is too short to see all that we want to see and Diana is convinced I just made it shorter and will probably get fired, but she approves of my actions.

There are 3 radical plans to totally reorganize the Park Service. The Director gave us 3.5 days to comment on 105 pages of technical information. It meant late hours (but hell, its daylight in Alaska at mid-night). I commented!, choosing ridicule as my weapon of choice, I went after the plans and the Directors methodology answering his 105 pages with only 7 of my own. My memo has already circulated through this region. Come to think of it, Yukon-Charley may be the end of our road and we have lot's of time to see Alaska. There is rumor of a buy-out in October (paying people to retire). I guess I have until then to decide whether or not I have ended my career in a suicidal charge and should get out. If so, I can honestly say that it feels good to know I will go down with an angry snarl of effort rather than survive whimpering about what should have been.

Either way I guess I had better end this epistle from Paul and get busy.