Finding a home in Nome

Crisp, cold, and clear

In welcoming back the sun, I’ve experienced the strange phenomenon of a sun outage, which happens twice a year.  This is the interruption or distortion of geostationary satellite signals caused by the interference of solar radiation.  The path the sun takes across the sky in this region is directly behind the line of sight between an earth station and a satellite.  The sun radiates strongly across the entire spectrum, and swamps the signal from the satellite.  Long story short, sun outages wipe out our internet, long distance phone calling, and video teleconferencing capabilities.  I’ve come to terms with the fact that I’m living with 1990s quality technology services, but it still is inconvenient when communication is cut off completely.  On the bright side, I’m enjoying the impressive displays of aurora that accompany this time of year.  In the past I’ve had to wake up at 1am to see the lights, but this week they’ve been visible on my drive to work at 7am.

These lights stretched across the entire sky!

Communication troubles further complicated my conundrum of the month, which came to a head due to the waning days of February; finding housing in Nome.  Without going into detail, my current living situation has become increasingly intolerable since I arrived back from break in January.  My goal is to move out by February 29^th (thankfully the leap year granted me an extra day!) to escape the exploitive and repulsive conditions I’m living in.  Never has finding a new apartment been so challenging and disheartening.  It seems as if even the most straightforward things are complicated and near impossible here.

Road clearing from a recent storm

Rentals are at a premium in Nome, as demand far exceeds supply.  Hundreds of people are moving to the area for employment.  Construction workers are needed to build the new hospital scheduled to open next fall, three new restaurants are opening in the coming month, and new equipment has allowed gold miners to dig into the frozen tundra encouraging them to stick around through the winter.  Compounding my issue is the upcoming Iditarod, where every nook and cranny is rented out to travelers from all over.  At the same time, new housing cannot be built.  All of the building materials must be shipped up to Nome, causing an additional $5 per pound added to the final price tag.  Banks are unwilling to loan money to builders, as the initial debt incurred by the creation of new housing is too steep and too risky to consider.  With the current demand there is no doubt that the preliminary losses would be recovered, however from an outsider’s view it is just too big of a gamble.

That being said, I spent all of February trying to pin down a place to live.  I started my search confident, knowing that I am an ideal tenant; gainfully employed, tidy and quiet, single, no kids, no pets, no smoking or drinking.  I posted my information and request on Nome-announce twice a week, with replies ranging from “We have a 4-bedroom available in June” to “Do you have any leads?  I’m having trouble finding housing too”.  I called each of the 27 listed landlords in Nome, with even more disastrous results.  I was told that I shouldn’t bother relocating to Nome, as housing is too difficult to obtain.  I was told that there was no point adding me to their waiting list, which already exceeded fifty people.  I was blatantly laughed at.  I was told with 100% sincerity that my best bet is to seduce a man so he will invite me to live with him.  By the end of the month, things were getting desperate.  A friend and I brazenly called a recent divorcee, seeing if his second bedroom was now available (it wasn’t).  We walked into kickboxing, and every other community event, shamelessly announcing that I needed a spare bed.

With all of my best efforts, a few opportunities did come up.  I jumped on anything I could find, which wasn’t much.  I was one of the lucky six to be permitted a viewing of a one-bedroom located next to a bar downtown, “furnished” with a soiled twin mattress sans-bed frame or box spring, tastefully decorated with stubbed out cigarettes for $1,200 a month, no utilities included.  I was offered a room for more than half of the total rent by a newly dating couple, greeting me at the door in their underwear.  The room they plan to rent shares a wall with their bedroom, and it was made clear to me that one of them has a degree in sex therapy, and I would have to be comfortable with their “recreational activities”.  I pursued but was denied a spot in the teacher’s dorms, despite the fact that I work in the same school building and teach some of the same students, because the Bering Strait School District rather than Nome Public Schools officially employs me.   The unfortunate reality is that all BSSD teachers are offered school housing, except those living in Nome.  Staying in the local homeless shelter was a distinct possibility, and that’s not a good feeling.

The Vet Hospital neighbored one of my options - tiny!

My housing crisis is still not fully resolved, but I have secured a residence in a three-bedroom with two nurses for the month of March.  This buys me more time to search, but also brings another month of stress and displacement.  I can only hope something opens up after Iditarod.  I realize that this is my most negative entry, but this issue has flavored all that I experienced this week.  Here is a quick highlight reel of the rest:  Marc McKenna and Dusty VanMeter finished the 2,000 mile Iron Dog snowmachine race in the fastest time in history – 35 hours and 47 minutes.  Sarah Palin’s husband finished 5th in this race, so there was a stir in town over whether she might drop by as she did last year (she didn’t).  Reaping the rewards from a radio contest, I enjoyed a free ticket to the movie Red Wings with a friend.  The before film advertisements informed me that Subway as well as Airport Pizza now deliver food on Bering Air to the surrounding villages.  The previews showcased movies that were all “coming soon” in January.   Temperatures have dropped well below zero once again, and game nights have resumed.  While I’m a contender in homemade charades, I can’t compete in Apples to Apples.

Waiting at the "chute" for racers

Here they come!

Repair and rest time in the garage

Off to the races

Sighted on my Valentine's Day walk

Race season has sprung into high gear!  This week Nome welcomed the mushers of the Paul Johnson Memorial Race, the first sled dog race to have its finish in Nome. This 450-mile race began in Unalakleet and is an Iditarod qualifying race.  A 24-year old heartthrob, Pete Kaiser, finished first and was greeted with Bieber-like fever.  Updates and interviews with the mushers are broadcast on our local radio station by the hour, and I’m starting to pick favorites and become invested in the competitors’ stories.  It’s a little surreal to know more about Lance Mackey than Jeremy Lin.  I may not be living under a rock, but living in Nome certainly pulls you out of the loop.  The internet here is too slow to stream videos (no YouTube), all of the movies that come to our theaters are at least 2 months old, and the only newspaper I have access to is the Nome Nugget.

Sled dogs on their houses - definitely outside dogs

Finish line of the dog sled race

Pete Kaiser finishing first!

Besides dog mushing, another type of racing is also quite popular here.  I have dubbed it “Alaskan NASCAR”; the snowmachine race.  This week hit off the weekly 675-foot drag races on the sea ice.  One man drove his machine all the way from Golovin just to compete in this short sprint!  With a $50 entry fee, even I could join the ranks of these racing elite.  This week also saw the start of the Irondog Race, in which competitors navigate the entire Iditarod trail on their snowmachines rather than with sleds and dogs.  These racers travel at much greater speeds, and must wear duct tape on their faces to prevent frostbite.  Any local kid can name his favorite Irondoggers, and they truly are viewed as celebrities in Nome.

Snowmachiners lined up at the start

In keeping with the celebrity theme, I watched my first episode of Bering Sea Gold this week.  Ian Foster, the owner of the “Sluicy” dredge on the show is an acquaintance of mine; he’s the house parent who had been living in the “palette palace” that I spoke about in an earlier blog post.  It’s strange watching him on television.  I keep thinking back to our conversations about what it’s like living in Nome as a Mormon, playing co-ed softball on our gravel field (ouch!), and using a rousing duet with him playing guitar as I sang to wake up students on the weekend.  If being on the show wasn’t enough, he’s also writing a book about the school that turned him around from a troubled teen to where he is today.  Have I ever mentioned that Nome attracts characters?

Dredge covered in snow

Ian's rig, back in August!

A man with a plan

Due to the buzz of this show, prospectors and adventurous (and possibly misdirected) hopefuls from the lower-48 keep pestering Nome offices, businesses, and organizations asking if there is a mining camp, if just anybody can go and mine the beaches, and if there are any dredges up for sale.  It’s gotten to the point where the Alaska Department of Natural Resources office in Nome has been called once every 5 minutes, with calling being especially heavy on Mondays following the Friday evening show.  More than 300 calls have been received since the show first aired on January 27^th, with more pouring in every day.  Locals are bracing themselves for the gold rush, but officials are trying to encourage people to test out the process before blowing their life savings on a rig.

Despite what the show depicts, setting up shop to dredge isn’t as easy as hopping on a boat and diving into the icy water.  In order to dredge you must have a marine lease, none of which are available now as the bidding wars are long over.  People can pan on West Beach without a permit, however they must be up to their knees in water the whole time.  There is a housing crisis in Nome, and while miners were allowed to live on the beach without water or bathrooms last summer, the excessive noise and pollution complaints may eliminate that option for this year.  Many folks are in an uproar because all too often people come to town with big dreams and little skills or resources, lose all of their money and have no way of getting out of Nome, becoming a drain on the community.  I can only imagine how the popularity of this show, and the unrealistic glory it depicts will impact our little town.

I have continued to enjoy the beautiful weather in Nome, and I can’t express my appreciation and awe in words.  Who knew that spring (or “winter b”, following “winter a”, as some folks call it) could feel so very much like winter, and still be just as revitalizing?  It boggles my mind that daily temperatures have been consistently warmer here than in my hometown in NY.  Sunlight is increasing by an additional 6 minutes each and every day, with an impressive 42 minutes every single week, and a grand total of 3 whole hours by the end of the month!  I am definitely enjoying the physical awakening that the warmth and daylight brings, and am filled with hope.  The worst is over, and it’s just going to get better from here on out.  I can make it!

Putting on tracks to prepare for "winter b" storms

I finished out the session with another week of Arctic Survival instruction.  I went back to my Family and Consumer Sciences roots a bit, and taught the students how to make hardtack.  These survival crackers have provided sustenance to armies from Roman times all the way up to the American Civil War.  If baked correctly, hardtack has the consistency of fired brick (which rather than bitten should be soaked in water before consumption), and has shelf stability for over 200 years.  Call it the twinkie of wilderness survival?  Also in class I taught different knots and their uses, practiced making snares, and held our culminating panel discussion.  Students interviewed elders from the region who are experts in subsistence, hunting, and generally surviving in the arctic.  And who better to hear it from?!

The newest group!

Practicing with an AED

Burrito-wrapping a hypothermia victim

Free time after survival swimming - most kids wear clothes over their suits

Two of the men were from King Island, a dissolved village where all inhabitants have relocated.  When asked what they miss most about their home, they both insist that it’s laughter.  They told stories about hearing laughter across the village wherever they went, but never at another person’s expense.  People just knew how to have fun, and enjoy life with laughter.  I’ve definitely noticed and take pleasure in the fact that my students are more apt to laugh at my jokes than students I taught in NY.  They find humor in everything, and laugh often.  One thing that got a particularly boisterous amount of laughter was my attempt to eat fermented baby walrus.  It was served to me frozen and raw, a slice smaller than a postage stamp.  It was the most potent thing I have ever put into my mouth, and with respect, that’s all I will say.

Some of our expert panel with the kids

I felt so privileged to be able to hear the stories from our experts.  I learned about a population of small-statured, indigenous people that selected to separate themselves from their village to live on the fringe in the wild.  I learned about sightings of sea serpents, narwhales, and sea lions.  I learned that many of my students’ last names are those of religious officials that came to their villages (Paul, Pete, and Steve are all common), or the paternal heads of households.  The last name Pootoogoolook is said to mean “the man with one sock”, and the story goes that the grandfather of this family only ever wore one sock, hence the name.  This anecdote made me want to learn more about the meaning of my last name, which I discovered is “light friend”.  I’ve taken some creative liberties, and imagine that it means I lighten the load of my friends and lift them up.  Cheers to being a Litwin!

Woman vs. wild

Ocean view!

The first three days of February broke every record, being the coldest days in history.  As the extreme cold spell broke, in rushed another huge storm.  This blizzard was similar in intensity to the category 3 polar cyclone, without the danger from the ocean waves crashing onshore thanks to the protective sea ice.  I was just finishing my 72-hour workweek as it rolled in, and was almost trapped at school due to the white-out conditions.  Looking out the window from the house, I was unable to see the high school that is positioned about 50 feet away.  There was no way I was driving home (I barely felt comfortable walking outside!), but the chance came up with another man driving into town.  I threw caution to the wind (that was blowing 40mph), left my truck at school, and hopped in the van for the ride home with closed eyes, white knuckles, and held breath the whole way.   I just couldn’t stand the thought of staying overnight during my one and only day off in weeks.  It’s not a good feeling going to work, not knowing if I’ll be able to make it home after my shift is over.  The drive was treacherous to say the least, but lordy on high I made it!

Good thing I didn't drive...this is my parking spot

My arctic entryway door was closed - this snow blew in under a crack!

The storm was caused by tumultuous tropical winds, giving me a sneak preview of typical spring weather in Nome.  Temperatures jumped from -39 to 32 above overnight!  That’s a 71 degree difference in a matter of a few hours; you can’t make this stuff up!  The wind and snow stopped for a few short hours of absolute bliss, allowing me to play out in the snow with friends.   The last time I felt such appreciation and excitement over playing in the snow was in elementary school.  We tackled each other, had a snow fight on the huge plowed piles, and wandered out onto the sea ice to view the glorious sunset.  Soaked up to our knees in salt water, we scampered off as we realized the ocean had turned to slush around the edges.  For the first time in years I skipped watching the Super Bowl to play in the snow.  Well worth it!  Although I must say, it was funny having folks come back talking about the game, that was all over by 6:30pm.  Earliest game ever!

My boots compared to a friend's "bunny boots"

In the snow!

Definitely a sun worshiper

The hardest part of my week was Monday morning.  I drove through the storm to arrive at the office entrance, which was completely drifted up with snow.  Passage was futile.  “Snow day” is no longer a part of my vocabulary, and maintenance was busy dealing with bigger priorities, so I grabbed a shovel and got to it.  It’s hard enough going to work on a Monday, but having to fight my way into the door was just plain unpleasant.  I’m learning quite a bit about drift zones, and am still amazed at the way snow accumulates here.  A friend of mine is looking to buy a house in Nome, and the only thing I could think of is to make sure it’s not in an area that collects drifts.  Many homes are drifted up past the rooftop!  The bad, stormy winds always blow from the east so snow always drifts in the same spots.  A word to the wise; don’t buy a house here if you’ve only seen it during the summer months.

Case of the Mondays

Made it!

That's a car under all that snow...

That's a house and some heavy equipment!

Another house, used as a modified sledding hill

YIELD!

Melting and refreezing snow makes funny shapes

With a new week came a new session, and a new group of students.  This session we welcomed 19 students from thirteen(!) different villages (our greatest diversity yet!) including our first Little Diomede students who were flown in by helicopter, as the sea ice is not yet frozen enough to make a runway.  And if I’m speaking candidly, this is the best mix of students we’ve had all year.  I am amazed by their maturity, resilience, and willingness to share their stories and culture with me.  It’s amazing the difference a positive group makes.  Also new this week was the responsibility to teach a brand new course; Arctic Survival.  Approved as an adjunct, I have been rigorously preparing for this course for weeks, and although I’m just a white girl from NY I have been able to acquire skills and take them for a test drive before attempting to teach them to others.  I am now proficient at making snares and processing small game animals, building three types of snow shelters, and starting a fire using primitive resources.  Add it to the ol’ resume?

My arctic survival crew!

Chip off the ol' snow block

Testing the depth of my snow trench

Worm's eye view

My finished trench!

View from inside - actually quite cozy

It’s only our first week together, and already my Arctic Survival class has done an impressive amount.  We practiced using a signaling mirror with a finger sight for accuracy, tested the insulation value and drying time of cotton vs. synthetic vs. wool apparel, ran cold water emergency drills in the pool, and built a group snow cave and individual snow trench shelters.  All of this hard work will certainly pay off for my five brave students; those earning at least a B will receive two college credits from the University of Alaska as well as a parting gift of an aluminum collapsible shovel, magnesium fire starter, and first aid kit.  As if my instruction wasn’t incentive enough!  My schedule is back to full tilt boogy – non-stop instruction and work from 7am to 4pm with no breaks or prep time.  But honestly, I’ve enjoyed working with this group so much that I’d venture to say that I don’t even mind it.

Weighing and testing clothing

Making snow-blind glasses!

To build a fire...

DUNK!