The Nome "zamboni" - better hockey turnout this week due to the warm weather!
Temperatures were warmer this week, and one day even reached double digits above zero! It was a bit comical – many of the vehicles long frozen finally thawed out enough to start up again. The town was coming back to life! Unfortunately, how warm it feels outside goes beyond what the thermometer reads. Warmer temperatures bring snow and wind (a constant 10-20mph with gusts up to 45mph), so while it may have been 9 degrees out, the wind chill pushed it far below zero once again. I can now honestly say that I far prefer a windless -30 degrees over 20 degrees with wind and snow. I’m getting used to driving in whiteouts, but I experienced my first 360 spinout as I was attempting to make a turn onto a particularly icy road. My truck went off the road, but luckily the snow wasn’t deep and it didn’t take too much to get me back out. Got my heart pumping though, that’s for sure.
I’m still enjoying the unique happenings that come with living in the far north. I unconsciously flinch each time my key gets close to a doorknob, but it’s fun watching the little bolt of lightning hit each time I unlock a door. Instead of causing indents, footprints are raised above the surrounding ground. Footsteps pack down the snow, and it’s not long before the wind comes to blow away the surrounding loose snow, leaving a positive relief. I’m fascinated by the many different sounds that snow makes, ranging from styrofoam peanuts, to the squeaks of making a balloon animal, to clinking glasses, to the hollow groan of some strange animal. The noises are related to the type of snow (loose, wind-packed, flakes, small or large granules, iced over), as well as the temperature outside. The coolest sounds come from deep, old snow on the coldest days, sounding almost hollow.
Hoofing it up a hill
Tall footprints in the snow
Besides sounding different, the snow in the sub-arctic is also different in the ways that it can be handled and used. While it’s impossible to make a snowball, it’s perfect snow for making blocks. To practice for my upcoming arctic survival course, an expert took me out to build a snow shelter. The wind was howling and the snow was blinding (creating a more believable survival mood), but we found a drift and got to work! Using only a saw and a small collapsible shovel we created a cozy home that could keep us alive and well indefinitely. I was amazed at how quick and easy it was to saw the snow into sturdy blocks, with quite an impressive insulating value. Igloos always seemed impossible to me in NY (how do they pack the snow like that?!), but with this type of snow it’s quite practical and feasible.
Building a snow shelter - I sawed those blocks!
At the beginning of a session, high school students always arrive Monday morning. Due to the weather, the whole group didn’t arrive until 9pm on Tuesday night. Monday was warm, but there was an intense ground cover of fog making it impossible to fly. Surprisingly enough, on Tuesday the weather was described as being “too nice” to fly in; although it was clear and sunny, the barometric pressure was so high that it causes mechanical problems with the plane’s altimeter. Three students were flying in from down state (Cheuenga Bay and Tuluksak), having to go through Anchorage and other stops before reaching Nome. One boy was grounded in Kotzebue with three of Nome’s Alaska Airlines jets (the 153 from Monday, and both the 152 and 153 from Tuesday). I can’t imagine how they fit three large jets on the runway there, but I know it was holding up the operations here. With all of the students trickling in at unexpected times, our session got off to a rough start. This trend continued, snowballed, and ultimately steam-rolled me. Enough about that.
One highlight was taking the students for their midday meal at the high school. The students usually complain about the school lunches, but it’s an easy transition into what they like to eat. The foods they’re used to eating are never spiced beyond the occasional salting or smoking, and rarely cooked. Traditionally prepared foods are consumed fresh and raw, frozen and raw, fermented without cooking, or dried without cooking. Everything I have tried has been delicious, and far healthier than the typical American diet. Whale fat is rich in omega-3s, and far surpasses a big mac and fries. One girl remarked that she felt so grateful that all of the food her family needed to survive and be healthy is available through subsistence. She talked about sharing with those in her village not able to hunt, and bartering for particularly special delicacies. One of her best trades was some dry fish (smoked salmon jerky) for some handpicked salmonberries (they look like an orange-pink blackberry, but are not sweet).
Students talked about eating seagulls and their eggs; a tasty surprise is when they find an unhatched fetus, which they down like a shooter in spite of the forming wings and beak. They told me about how they missed having fermented walrus breast and walrus milk. One boy described his love for eyeballs of any kind: fish and walrus eyes are his favorite. Another boy described a type of larva that burrows beneath the flesh of caribou and moose, coexisting happily together. When breaking down the meat these can be dug out and snacked on like popcorn. Fish eggs straight from the water are the “Eskimo version of caviar”. There are very few sweet dishes in the local cuisine, one of which is Eskimo ice cream; chilled animal lard (usually caribou or whale) mixed with sugar and berries. These dishes date back to the dawn of this culture, and I admire the fact that they exist unchanged even after so many years. You eat what you like, and you like what you know!
The best part of my week however was somewhat of a fluke. After a particularly challenging day at work, I got home with an hour left of daylight and some stress to burn and decided to take a trek out to the Healy. It was my first time walking on the sea ice, and it was solid despite the wide, deep cracks and ice shoves. It was a clear day, and after trudging in solitude for a little over a mile I had reached the ship. A few Coast Guard personnel were stationed outside, with other Nomeites milling around taking photos. As I was gawking in frozen wonder, one of the guards asked if I’d like to tour the vessel. Are you kidding me?! Before he could change his mind, I quickly hauled myself up the surprisingly long, steep metal grated ramp, pulling myself up the ropes hanging to either side of me.
An ice shove in the middle of the frozen sea
Getting closer to the Healy
I made it!
Upon arriving in the ship, a man told me that as of 16:00, the ship had been secured and there were no more civilians allowed on board. My watch read 4:06. Bummer! Fortunately I used my charm to canoodle my way into a quick tour around the ship, which was so fast I hardly had the chance to snap photos. The things that left the greatest impression on me were the dozens of men in blue t-shirts popping in and out of rooms through rounded and hatched hallways, how warm it was inside (many locals made treks to the ship bearing gifts of warm clothing for when the crew had to venture outside), and how surreal it was looking back on town from the upper deck. After walking back to shore I arrived just in time to watch the Coast Guard helicopter take off, having gotten to peek inside and speak to a few crew members prior to liftoff. It still boggles my mind to think that I was aboard the breaker that’s pictured in every national newspaper, and had caused a stir across the globe.
Up the hatch!
Main control room
Front of the boat
Take off!
Sunset walking back to shore
Festivities abounded throughout the week to celebrate and thank the dedicated souls who helped deliver fuel to our iced in city. Along with the many cookie and Subway sandwich deliveries to the boat, crewmembers were invited into town for a town pizza party and a Nome vs. Coast Guard basketball game at the rec center. Unfortunately, crewmembers of the Russian tanker were not able to join in the fun. City officials worked hard to acquire the necessary visas for these folks to venture onto US land, but it was not to be. Only the Renda’s captain (who is only 29 years young!) would be able to walk on the ice (considered US territory), and only if there was a safety need (there wasn’t). It seems ridiculous that this boat could travel for more than a month to Japan, Korea, Dutch Harbor, and 400 miles through solid ice and the men aboard were still unable to walk the final mile to join us for some pizza. Silly red tape.
My first travel week since October! This time I was sent out to Brevig Mission to recruit, which is located right across the water from Teller. My morning started with a phone call from the airline agent, telling me that my flight had been pushed up an hour to beat the impending un-flyable weather (meaning that they would like to take off in 5 minutes), and that they would hold the plane for me. Not wanting to risk a frozen truck again, I decided to leave it plugged in and take a taxi to the airport. Bad call. I was picked up promptly, but spent more than 30 minutes picking up and dropping off other town folk, waiting for the loading and unloading of luggage. I’ve rarely taken cabs, but I generally expect them to go from point A (my residence) to point B (my desired location) without too many other side stops. Now I know!
Fortunately the plane was still waiting for me by the time I got to the airport, and with only one other passenger I didn’t have to feel too bad for holding up the works. So here’s some background about flying to Brevig; all of the plane crashes that I’ve heard people experience have been travelling to or around this area, due to the constant heavy gusting winds. That being said, I was preset with a little anxiety about this flight. Our first stop was Teller to drop off and pick up other passengers, and besides a few turbulent dips and climbs it wasn’t too bad. It’s only 10 miles from Teller to Brevig’s airport, so the plane could not reach an altitude where the air currents are smoother. Not to mention that Brevig was in the midst of a winter storm.
As per usual, I seemed to be the only person freaking out as we approached the landing strip, just to suddenly get pulled back into the air, circling around as the pilot decided to go for a second, and third try at landing. The pilot kept looking out the window at the wings, and at one point it looked as if they nearly brushed the ground. Approaching the runway head on clearly wasn’t going to work, so the pilot decided to face the plane into the wind with the wings facing the runway, essentially landing us sideways. Of course my panic was rising as we hovered closer to the ground (when the wheels touch we’ll flip for sure!), but at the last moment the pilot twisted the plane around so that the landing gear would push us down the runway in the right direction. Holy moly. I kept telling myself to breathe and that it would all be over soon (whether I lived or died), but as I looked at the other passengers I was dumbfounded. All of them were calm as ever, with one man sound asleep.
I was the only passenger getting off in Brevig, with the rest of the crew flying to Shishmareff. My flight was almost an hour early, so the kind folks at the school planning to pick me up had no idea I was here. So here I sat, against the hangar building, in a white out. I knew that the school had to be within walking distance, but it’s very dangerous to set out in a blizzard. Within the past weeks a few unlucky souls have lost their lives wandering through the blinding snow (one man was just going to get some water, and another was picking up his kids from school). It’s quite disorienting! Earlier in the week I was driving to work and conditions got so bad that I didn’t know whether I was on the road or not, or whether I had driven past the school altogether. But back to Brevig! I sat on my suitcase, grasping my pillow against my face, waiting for someone to rescue me. My cell phone doesn’t work in remote villages, but I knew the longest I would probably have to wait was an hour when hopefully the school would come looking for me.
Oh the thoughts that went through my head. Thankfully a man came by with a snowmachine to save the day! He looked at me through his ski goggles and yelled “Where are you supposed to be?”, and when I exclaimed “The school!” he tossed my suitcase onto the sled he was dragging and told me to hop on. My very first ride on a snowmachine (or snowmobile as they say in NY)! I was grasping onto this stranger for dear, dear life, the poor guy. The snow was blinding so I held my mittens against my face the whole time, and I let out a little yelp each time he hit a bump or went down a particularly steep hill. One thing I vividly remember through all of this is that I would break into uncontrolled, short bursts of laughter. Sitting alone in a white-out? Hopping on the back of a snowmachine for the first time to be rescued by a kind stranger? What else could I do but laugh!
The snowmachine that saved me, later that day
A quick walk around Brevig Mission in -40 degrees!
Walking into the school I must have looked like the abominable snowman; all of my belongings and the front of my body was plastered in wind-blown snow. It’s hard to describe what this type of snow is like, but it’s extremely dense, and it’s packed on solid. After a few raised eyebrows, I was welcomed warmly and shown to my bed. I could hardly believe my eyes when I was shown to an actual room (well, remodeled closet of sorts) with an actual bed with pillows and blankets to boot! Not to mention a mini-fridge, lamp, and television! Had I somehow made reservations for a room at the Ritz?! Definitely an upgrade from a foam mattress in the library. Once I got situated I ate lunch with the students. No matter the age, their first question to me is always the same; “What’s your name?”. Even if they’ve just heard their friend ask me the very same thing just seconds ago, they will ask me again. And again. It’s actually pretty cute.
It may say "storage", but what's behind door #1?!
Awesome room I got to stay in!
It even had a poster on the wall!
As students were filling out my sign-in sheet, I learned something new. One boy’s last name is Ahnangnatoguk. Yes, you read that correctly. A friend of his was signing him in, and instead of writing his whole last name wrote “A-k”. I asked him about it and he said “We call him A through K, nobody can actually spell his real name”. Too funny! While most of my students have first names that are quite familiar to me, their last names are completely exotic and delightful! So fun to say! Here’s a random sampling of my favorites: Toktoo, Kakoona, Amaktoolik, Paniptchuk, Pikonganna, Ongtowasruk, and the award for longest goes to Nowpakahok-Noongwook. I’m also getting good at guessing where students come from based on their last names, as they’re usually tied to specific villages. Way more interesting than the Smiths’ and Jones’ that I’m used to.
Each school displays photos and names of elders in the village
Native Youth Olympics, bunny style!
Artwork in the library
More taxidermy and artwork in the cafeteria
It was a short stay, and I was on my way home once again. My flight back to Nome was less like a brush with death, and more like a brush with fame. My pilot for this leg is known as Hollywood, as he used to star as a doctor on a daytime soap opera. He is also a personality from the reality show Flying Wild Alaska. I’m sure that I made a bit of a fool out of myself as I admitted to being a little star struck, but he wasn’t sure whether I was being serious or making fun of him. He explained that this was the first time anyone had commented on his involvement in these shows, and was quite flattered. It was funny; he said that he couldn’t wait to tell his friends that I recognized him. Shouldn’t it be my job to tell everyone I met him? I loaded onto the plane, and was surprised to find it completely full! My first time flying with a full-to-capacity bush plane, which is still only 8 people when you include the pilot. The ride was bumpy, but I can honestly say I did not fear for my life. I remember getting scared as a kid with the little bumps and hiccups of a jet, and now I’m comfortable with a decent amount of tossing in our little planes. Still not used to the rollercoaster level falls and assents, nor the sideways landings, but hey. I’m getting there.
Sunrise from a bush plane!
Hollywood! Yep, we were both a little tired
I arrived back in Nome just in time to see history in the making. For the second time this year, Nome has been in the national news, with a few of my friends providing sound clips for CNN and photos for the New York Times. Big deal! The hubbub surrounds our fuel shortage and the decision to use the Coast Guard cutter Healy (the only operative polar ice breaker) to tow the 370-foot Renda, a Russian barge filled with 1.3 million gallons of fuel. Our last planned barge delivery did not make it due to shipping delays and nasty weather, and after much political and commercial business drama our rescue vessels set sail over a month ago. The Renda first traveled to South Korea to be filled with fuel, then with the help of the Healy was pulled to Dutch Harbor for a refill, then all the way to Nome.
Healy tugging the Renda to Nome
Here at last!
Anchors ahoy! About a mile from shore
The mission was by no means easy; ice was freezing behind the ships faster than they could break forward (at some points they were breaking through 10 feet of ice), they had to be re-routed so they would not interfere with the habitats of the spectacled eiders (a type of waterfowl) and other marine creatures, and the limited daylight and extremely cold temperatures made transporting the fuel onto the land through a mile-long hose more complicated. I for one am glad to see this delivery, but there are many folks steadfastly against this whole shebang, primarily due to expenditures. One figure that was discussed was that the cost to operate these vessels for just one hour was estimated at $17,000. Now multiply that by over a month of continual work. Am I thankful that I will most likely not have to pay $10 per gallon of gas this winter? Yes. But I am also curious to see the final ramifications of this mess.
Weird treaded National Guard vehicle, later parked outside my hockey game!
Fireworks over the sea ice to welcome in the new year
Upon my return from NY, I’ve been greeted by some of the coldest weather in Nome history. We hit the record for the most consecutive days with temperatures below -30 degrees (it’s been 12 days and counting; the previous record was 9 days in a row). It’s the first time in 13 years that Nome has experienced temperatures below -40 degrees. It has been far colder than usual for January, and it hasn’t registered at zero degrees or warmer since December 23rd. Wind chill temperatures have consistently dipped to -60 degrees. Water and sewer lines are freezing up all over town, some of which are frozen all the way into the city, with no hope of thawing out until summer. Yes, this means that the people living there can no longer flush a toilet or run a faucet for the next 6 months. Even more seriously, there have been cold-related deaths already this year, with one man found frozen on the beach less than a mile from my apartment. In short, this kind of cold is no joke.
While I am fortunate enough to have a warm apartment with running water, I now have some firsthand experience in how destructive this cold can be. My poor truck succumbed to the extreme conditions, and could not be started. Although it was plugged in, the battery and engine heaters alone did not keep my truck in working order. Existing in Nome without a vehicle is not an option for me, as I must drive 4 miles into work each day, and it’s $22 round trip to take a taxi. So began my mission to save my truck. I am forever indebted to my friends from KNOM, as they were with me every step of the way in the many trials and tribulations of resurrecting my vehicle. We had no luck with a traditional battery jump. The cold makes everything extremely brittle; a few wrong touches broke off a backdoor handle, and the plug that runs to my battery heater. The KNOM boys knew just what to do, and helped me replace the plug; we MacGyvered it with a hairdryer, q-tips, and frozen electrical tape (this had to be taken inside and sat on like a hen’s egg to get it warm enough to use). After a day of working…replaced plug? Check! A truck that starts? No dice.
Working on my truck, inexplicably cold
Pointing to my tears on his coat - no success!
On the second day of operation zombie truck I cajoled a friend into driving me out to the school to borrow the battery charger. Over the course of the day I went from not even being able to identify this piece of equipment, to being able to operate it correctly in all of its many settings and functions. Maybe not the most impressive feat, but hey. I spent the day in and out of the cold, charging and recharging my car battery, hoping each time that my truck would jump back to life. I was so confident that my efforts would work, but alas, my truck remained dead as a doornail. Disheartening to say the least.
As if all of this weren’t enough, doing these things in -30 degree weather was no easy task. My fingers could only be exposed for a few seconds before they lost all fine motor coordination, and began to hurt. My face was so cold that my mouth would not form coherent words. My lungs stung from breathing in the cold air, as if I had just run for miles at a full sprint. My feet were painfully cold after 20 minutes outside, even though they were snug in boots rated to -100 degrees. My eyebrows and eyelashes were frosted over, and I kept having to take breaks inside to warm up (any exposed skin will be frostbitten in 10 minutes); there was a difference of 110 degrees from inside my apartment to the world just outside my arctic entryway. Insane.
On the third day my truck rose again, not in fulfillment of any scriptures, but thank the good lord nonetheless. Temperatures had risen dramatically to -17 degrees, a justifiable heat wave that was just enough to take the bitter cold edge off of things. After one last four-hour stint on the battery charger, I went outside, said a little prayer to any higher power that would listen, and cranked the key. So ensued the most beautiful sound I have ever heard; my truck’s engine groaning to life! I can’t explain the sheer jubilation I felt, it was as if I had won the Super Bowl. I ran victory laps around the block, I hooped and hollered, and knelt down like Tebow to thank all that is good in this world. It took me a few minutes to come back down to reality, and realize that I should unplug the charger, let my truck warm up a bit, and take it for a spin. Never before have I been so excited to take a joyride around the limited road system of Nome. Even thinking about it now brings a joyful tear to my eye. Straight up miracle, that’s all I can say.
Ever since this somewhat traumatic experience, my truck has been dependably starting, and hasn’t let me down again. It’s amazing how something so downright mundane and expected could be so exciting and gratifying. I mean let’s be honest. Trucks normally start when you turn the key, right? But all rules are off when it’s -40 degrees outside, before factoring in a wind chill. I keep asking myself, why do people live here? Why are buildings positioned in ways that require vehicles for transportation to them; no vehicle should be expected to function properly in these temperatures! The folks of Nome are defying the laws of nature living and thriving here. It’s truly amazing, inspiring, crazy, and a bit foolish. Go figure, I’m one of them.
My truck started up just in time for the workweek, but my tryst with frozen vehicles was far from over. I was on the first shift of the first day back to work, and was on the clock a full hour before any of my teacher counterparts. I was tasked with picking our new batch of students up from the airport, however there was one big problem parked in my way; our 15-passenger van was encased in 3 weeks worth of ice and snow, to the point where no door could be opened. Over the next hour, I single-handedly (and I admit, begrudgingly) fought open this vehicle with nothing more than a pitcher refilled with lukewarm water and a heat gun.
I had not worn arctic gear appropriate for being in the elements for an extended period of time, as I never anticipated “unfreezing a van” would become part of my job description. Try as I might, much of the water I poured on the van evaporated or re-froze immediately, making the task just plain Sisyphean. My thin cotton mittens and jeans were frozen solid from wayward water that was hastily dumped from above my head. Miserable. After what seemed like a lifetime I finally broke into the front driver and passenger side doors, however the main doors allowing folks into the back of the van remained cemented shut. Time was up, so I picked the students up in three groups, each of which had to enter through the front passenger side door, dragging their luggage and climbing over all of the seats (and each other) to get to an open seat. Cue teenage angst and grumbling. This job is certainly pushing me to my limits.
Newest group of junior high students
One saving grace of this week was a surprise meteor shower. I began my Wednesday morning shuttling students to and from the rec center for their morning workout, and was witness to a glorious show of falling stars. I brushed the first one off as a simple trick of the mind, but the light show continued. What an incredible and rare treat; I guess one upside of it being dark out until noon is that I was able to enjoy this phenomenon all morning long!
I have become familiar with a few more subarctic specific occurrences this week. I added a new word to my vocabulary: hoarfrost. This is when ice crystals build up in a thick blanket, encasing everything in a crystalline frost that looks like snow. This frost is so intense, that it even forms a new layer over the snow. Snow that frosts over, are you kidding me?! I’ve also become leery of touching anything metal. The air is so dry here that touching a doorknob delivers an electrocution-grade shock. Alright, maybe I’m exaggerating a little, but dang it hurts! Each morning I’m careful to pick up my feet so that my wool socks can’t build up a charge. Even so, it’s guaranteed that when I reach my hand to open my bedroom door, a visible blue arch of electricity jumps from my finger and yowza!
Hoarfrost built up on a car door handle
Growing frost crystals on snow and branches
Frosted over snowbank
The mixture of extreme cold and dry also provides the perfect conditions for a magic show of sorts. Step 1. Boil a cup of water. Step 2. Bring the cup outside, and toss the water into the air. Step 3. Be amazed, because it's frozen before it hits the ground. And actually, most of the water will just instantly disappear into the atmosphere. Another fun trick? After survival swimming each morning, the students and I walked from the pool back to the school. Our two-minute trek across the parking lot resulted in completely frozen towels and bathing suits. After leaving these items outside for longer, they mysteriously became unfrozen and completely dry. Sublimation in rapid action. Strange things happen when it’s this cold out, let me tell you.
After being slung over my arm, my towel stands up on its own!
Steam and fog hovering over the ice on the day I left for NY!
Long story short, my two weeks back in NY were quite certainly the best of my life. I will undoubtedly finish out my time in Nome, but my vacation gave me a better understanding and appreciation for exactly where the heart is.
My first view of NY from the plane - it's GREEN!
Things I now fully appreciate about NY:
One word – LIFE! The mild NY winter left green grass, ferns, and even a patch of parsley still growing in my parent’s garden. Beautiful, precious, evidence of life! The trees may not have had leaves, but viewing a tree line took my breath away. Seeing leaves on the ground gave me an endorphin rush. I quite literally hugged a tree, and it felt great.
My bro and his dog Kali, out for a hike!
Family, old friends, and my honey – There’s nothing quite like being around people that have known and loved you for years, and will love you in the years to come. I was surrounded by more love than I probably deserve, and it felt indescribably good.
The first deli I've been to in 5 months(!), with the honey
Cheap and available goods and services – I indulged in multiple grocery store shopping sprees, and was sure the cashier had forgotten to ring up items each time I went through the check-out line. I filled up my gas tank twice, and the total of both fill-ups was still considerably cheaper than a half-tank fill in my truck in Nome. Dining out was absurdly affordable, and of the highest quality. The money I put towards a fancy steak dinner for two wouldn’t even cover the cost of a poorly prepared pizza in Nome. I felt like I could buy anything and everything! To all the occupiers; I got a taste of what it feels like to be in the 1%, and I’m not going to lie, it felt great!
Gas, more than $2 cheaper per gallon than in Nome
A full tank for $33?!
Familiarity – I delighted in my favorite meals and traditions (Christmas morning just wouldn’t be the same without waffles!). I relished being in a familiar environment; sleeping a few nights in my childhood bedroom, pawing through my parents’ generously stocked refrigerator, and taking walks around my old neighborhood. Driving past my old apartment in Troy caused a few painful pangs, but otherwise it was utter bliss.
Freedom – I got a taste of what it was like to be 16 again, just having earned my driver’s license. Ah, to be free! Never again will I take for granted being able to drive to a neighboring town or state. It blew my mind that I could drive to Vermont and back again. I could just do it. And I didn’t have to plug my vehicle in whenever it was not in operation, I didn’t need to dig it out of massive snow drifts, I didn’t need to let it run at least 15 minutes before going anywhere, I didn’t need to pour hot water over the doors to open them, and I didn’t need to drive well below the speed limit to maintain traction with the icy roads. I didn’t even have to scrape a windshield for goodness sake. If I had wanted to I could’ve driven to Alaska! Although I couldn’t have actually driven to Nome.
Daylight and morning sunshine – Having gotten used to the hours of darkness in Alaska gradually, I was joyfully awakened by the glorious sun on my first morning back home, and each morning thereafter. I kept looking at the clock in confused excitement when I woke up to sunlight. I now understand the term “sun worshiper”, and have joined their ranks. Upon my return to Nome the lack of daylight has hit me surprisingly hard. After two weeks of sunshine it was noticeably and significantly challenging to return to life in the dark.
Mail delivered right to your house – I never thought I would be grateful for a mailbox, but after having to brave the trek to the post office each time I want to check my mail I look forward to having a mailman again. Vehicles are always double and triple parked outside of the post office, as most of Nome’s 3,500 residents must check their PO box on a regular basis. It is undoubtedly the most dangerous place to drive in all of Nome. When I get one again, I think I may bake my delivering postal worker some cookies.
For my own sanity, I have also compiled a list of things I genuinely appreciate about Nome:
“Easy” driving – Options are limited to a few square miles, so I can get anywhere I need (or am able) to go within minutes and without a map or GPS. I don’t have to worry about being cut-off or tailgated, road rage, or heavy traffic. I don’t need to remember how to navigate a traffic circle, obey a stoplight, or merge onto a highway. Except for a few stop signs (many of which are considered optional) the rules of the road are simple in Nome.
I do not miss any of this driving craziness!
New friends – I am forever indebted to the friends I have made in Nome. I was welcomed back with open arms, and extended helping hands to make my transition back more manageable. As there are only three jet flights into Nome each day (known as the 151, 152, and 153) it was obvious when my plane from Anchorage arrived. It wasn’t minutes after I returned back to my apartment that my closest friend in Nome came running over in the -30 degree cold to tell me just how glad he was that I was back and to give me one of his world renowned hugs. There is nothing in the world as valuable as a true friend.
Simplicity – There’s something to be said about having limited choices in purchases, pals, and planned activities. There isn’t the same degree of materialism and excess in Nome, and being home made me realize just how many things in most people’s daily lives are just plain unnecessary. Without meaning to sound judgmental, I’ve also realized that the things folks tend to complain about in NY are downright trivial. Live simply, and make the best of what you’re given or have earned. It’s odd; never have I had so little, facing so many challenges, but it’s always on my mind just how very fortunate I am. When it comes right down to it, I am one lucky gal.
An example of holiday excess...love the green grass though!
A fuel fill up in my apartment providing heat and hot running water! Luxury!
Beautiful skies – The crisp cold may be bitter (we’re consistently setting records for the coldest days in history), but it provides breathtakingly clear night skies with an uncountable number of stars. I am treated to a sunrise and sunset each day, albeit with only a few hours in between. If you can steel yourself against the weather, it’s always a good time to stop and admire the magnificence of the sky.
