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| 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.
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| Hoofing it up a hill |
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| 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.
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| 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.
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| An ice shove in the middle of the frozen sea |
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| Getting closer to the Healy |
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| 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.
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| Up the hatch! |
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| Main control room |
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| Front of the boat |
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| Take off! |
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| 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.
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| The kids got the tour the next day! |
