Newfoundland part 2: When in Bonavista...

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Saturday morning we woke up early, packed the car, and headed out to the small ski area where my friend works as a cross country ski instructor. Since I've never skied before and my friend didn't have time to teach me before work, I contented myself with hiking the ski trails in the morning while he taught his class.

It was the windiest day! Gusting at 30mph the air felt about 5 degrees with blowing snow blurring my vision and making my ears and chin ache. The trees provided some buffer, but whenever I came to a crossroads in the trail, I had to quickly trudge-scamper through the snow to get to the next sheltered spot. I spent the last 40 minutes or so waiting in the chalet by the warm stove, content that I had seen as much of the trails as I could that day.

Once my friend got back, we hopped back in the car and took off up the TransCanada highway, heading to the rural village of Bonavista, about 3.5 hours north...

Newfoundland part 1: From Northwest to Northeast

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

One of my favorite things about Alaska are the serendipitous opportunities that come up that you never would have expected -- some even coming up years later. And that's exactly how I found myself on the island of Newfoundland this past weekend. 

Working in Nome, AK for two summers I made so many great friends, one of whom happened to be a student going to college in St. John's, NL. We stayed in touch over the last couple years; he always invited me to come to Canada, I always said I would someday. Finally sucked in by my wanderlust again, I decided to make that "someday" last Thursday. I booked the cheapest ticket I could find, loaded my backpack, and took off for a whirlwind weekend with my friend I hadn't seen in two years on the opposite side of the continent from where we first met. Whoever would've guessed!

A taste of culture

First, I want to share the video I made from the footage on my lost GoPro. It's basically a shortened version of everything I said in my last post. Enjoy!

In other news, yesterday I got to go shoot photography for a local cultural fall festival in the community. Almost as soon as I walked in, I was handed an Eskimo yo-yo made out of duct tape that said "I ♥ bacon" on it (SO random, right??). The woman tried to show me how to do it, but I was pretty hopeless at first. 

Village of White Mountain

Tuesday morning I found myself seated in the front of a bush plane, cruising due east under a high cloud ceiling, my flat hat sitting primly on my lap. I watched the landscape under me morph from light rolling tundra to the hunter green of dense coniferous forests. I was headed to the Native Village of White Mountain to give a Junior Ranger program to the local youth.

First forest I've seen in months!

We landed on a dirt airstrip at the top of a hill overlooking the gorgeous, colorful village. An older man in a rickety red pickup truck with mosquito screens for windows picked us up and somehow all 5 of us from the flight crowded into the cab.

One man who had come in on our flight asked the pressing question: "So where IS the 'White Mountain'?" The driver laughed. "It's not actually a mountain. It's that dirt hill over there. It reflects white when the sun hits it the right way. That's how the village got it's name." In fact, the dirt hill to which he was referring was even smaller than the hill with the landing strip, and looked about as mundane as you can get. He dropped us off at the Tribal Hall, where we were to give our program.

As it turned out, the village had no received our advertisements in time, and so word had not been spread that we were coming. Everyone was very friendly though, and began calling whoever they knew with kids and telling them to come to the Tribal Hall. Although we planned to start at 1:30pm, we were told that most kids would still be sleeping (Alaskan children have strange sleep schedules in the summer).

Nonetheless, eventually a few children filtered in, just 9 in all -- much fewer than the usual 30-45 we get for village programs.

Our topic for the day was the Ice Age, a program we've been developing over the last few weeks among our staff. It's a huge challenge to teach a topic like that to children ranging in age from 3-15, most of whom have never even heard of it, or have the same concept of time and history as they might have been taught in the lower-48.

We focused on Ice Age wildlife though, and after some indoor activities, we came outside into the mosquito-laden sunlight for some active outdoor games.

Playing Ice Age twister in the schoolyard

Making fossil crafts

Overall the program went well and the kids seemed to enjoy it, despite having such a small crowd. It was interesting talking to some of them and seeing what a strong influence the Fish River has on their lives. In the summer, they spend all their time with their families out fishing, hunting, or swimming. There looked to be more boats than 4-wheelers, and pretty much no cars at all in the village.

Afterwards, we had about an hour to kill before our plane arrived again, so we took the time to explore the forested village.

Tribal hall

View of town from Tribal Hall, and the Fish River

Main street through town

The Fish River

Inside the Native Store (the only store in town)

Dilapidated building

Cute little church

Fish drying

I found White Mountain to be at least as friendly as Shishmaref. Everyone seemed so happy and welcoming (perhaps also because they might have thought we were State Troopers or cops, as many people do!).

View from top of White Mountain

We found our way to the village's namesake and climbed up. I could clearly see why the town was named for it -- not only did it have abundant white rocks, but you could see all of the land for miles around from its low peak.

View from opposite direction of the village

Yours truly, on top of White Mountain

I don't like to pick favorites, but I have to say that White Mountain definitely won me over. Maybe I'm just tree-deprived, or was swayed by the warm sunlight that we've been lacking in Nome, but this village left a lasting impression on me. It felt like more like the imagined "Alaska" that everyone thinks of when they conceptualize the rural parts of the state, so it was fascinating to see and experience.

Alaska video montage

I've only been home a week and a half, but already Alaska seems almost as distant in memory as it is in miles. I'll be totally honest, as great as it was to experience a "real" Alaska winter in one of the harshest environments on earth, it feels damn good to be able to just walk out my door barefoot now that I'm back in Florida. No more spending 10 minutes to put on enough layers to step outside. I've even started to get a tan again (currently in the form of sunburn, but hey).

It wasn't quite as hard to adjust to living in "civilization" again as I thought it would be. It's nice to see affordable prices in the stores once more, and have more choices in products. The harder part has been getting used to living at home after being on my own for so long. I miss that freedom already, but I keep telling myself it's only temporary. Because I know it is. Hopefully within the next month I'll be on my way to a new job, whatever it may be (fingers crossed that it will be in Alaska again).

I hate this period of limbo where I have no idea what I'm doing with my life. But in between job-searching and car-searching and freaking out about the future, I've managed to finish putting together my video montages of all 9 months in Alaska. Just watching them over again gives me the travel bug, so maybe it'll inspire you to get out on your own adventures as well. :)  Enjoy.

Shishmaref

This week I spent 2 days in Shishmaref, the village I visited last November just before Thanksgiving. The purpose of my trip was essentially the same: to talk to local youth about Serpentine Hot Springs and get their perspectives on the area, but this time the experience was far more successful and fulfilling.

On my way there, I was once again the only one on the flight. There was a seat open in the back, but the rest of the plane was packed with cargo -- boxes of milk, orange juice, canned goods, and produce. The pilot asked if I wanted to ride copilot instead: Heck yes!! He even ran inside and got me a headset, and we spent the entire flight talking cameras and aviation. He was pretty excited I had a GoPro and a good Nikon.  

Trying out the GoPro

Off and away!

Off to Shishmaref for a couple days tomorrow! High of -5 for the week, lows in the -30s. Bring it on!

A day in a village

The sky is just beginning to get light as I walk into the terminal for Bering Air to check in for my morning flight to the village of Deering. I'm only going for the day, to help out a park ranger from the region and speak to the high school class, but as always, I'm prepared as best I can for the unexpected. My pack is stuffed with classroom materials, extra warm clothes, my camera, a few survival essentials, and a satellite phone for emergencies. It seems a strange combination of things to pack, but necessary, I suppose. 

It turns out I'm the only one on the flight besides the pilot, so we walk out together across the windy tarmac to the little 9-seater Navajo charter plane and I settle in for the 45 minute ride. 

Sunrise from the morning flight

Ups and Downs

This has been a week of ups and downs in more ways than one. The day after my birthday was the worst. It started out quite well -- we spent the snowy day snowshoeing up King Mountain and sledding back down.  

I got the most epic GoPro shots yet, but alas, I will never see those shots. 

Life in the Bush

I have been intermittently aware over the last few months that I've failed to thoroughly described to you what it is really like to live in the Alaskan bush. Maybe you've gotten some idea if you've read enough of my posts, or if you remember some of my initial deer-in-the-headlights reactions when I first moved here 7 months ago.

But every so often, I am reminded that what has become daily routine and "normal" life for me was a totally foreign concept last year and still is for 99% of my friends and family.

The "beach"

On gratitude, love, and a village

This Thanksgiving, I am thankful to be alone. And I don't mean it ironically, but most sincerely from the bottom of my heart. I am alone because I am fortunate. I am alone because I am loved enough for my family and friends to let me go off and reach my own stars. I am alone because I love my family and friends enough to be able to leave and come back, knowing I still have a home and a community.

I am thankful to be alone because it allows me to reflect on these things and realize that not only am I comfortable enough with myself to enjoy a Thanksgiving in solitude, but that I also have so much to be thankful for.

Alapaa! (It's cold!)

The colder it gets, the more Alaskan I'm beginning to feel. That's not to say I'm "becoming" Alaskan, but this place is definitely beginning to fill more of the stereotypes than it even did in the summer. As winter moves in, most of the summer seasonal visitors have moved out and Nome seems to be taking on a more rural, bush town-like vibe. Most of the people I see now are the year-round Nomeites and villagers, all wearing their beautiful fur parkas and colorful kuspuks, though some of the kids are still running around in shorts.

Photo and Film Montage

Although I have several posts backlogged that I need to finish, I thought I'd share a rough photo and film montage that I threw together this week. You've probably seen most of the photos by now, but hey, everything's better when put to music. :) Enjoy! 

It takes a village ...to gain perspective

When you hear the word "village," if you're anything like me, America is probably not the first thing that comes to mind. Yet in the Seward Peninsula, villages are almost the only form of community that exists here, aside from the bush towns of Nome and Kotzebue. 

Into the Unknown

Super stylish flight suit

I don't even know where to start! Tomorrow at an ungodly hour of the morning, I'm taking my first trip into the Alaskan backcountry for the work assignment I've mentioned before to the village of Wales and Ikpek Lagoon.

Preparations swung into full gear today when our NPS media specialists arrived from Utah. We had a long meeting to go over flight procedures, gear allocation, filming and photography shoots in the village, and pretty much every logistical detail you can imagine.

Road to Council

When I first heard we were taking a staff trip to "Council," I wasn't sure what that meant. Like, tribal council? No, as it turns out, Council is a small fishing village about 73 miles east northeast of Nome, and our 7-person staff was taking a day trip out there for photos and for us to become better acquainted with the area. 

So, late Tuesday morning, we all piled into the big government-issued Suburban SUV and began a long day of bouncing down 146 miles roundtrip of dirt road. That's a lot of dirt road.

Possible Pacific loons in the back

Red-throated loon

Our first stop was at a bridge perhaps 10-20 miles outside of Nome where we did some birdwatching. There were a bunch of glaucous gulls, red-throated loons, and what looked to be Pacific loons, although I'm still not entirely sure. Also some some Eiders (Spectacled, I think?) and the usual little red-necked phalaropes in the water.

It was here that I had my first go at the NPS camera, a good Nikon D80 DSLR. It took me a while to remember what little I know about manual photography, but after a while it became a little easier. I still have a lot to learn as far as what settings to use in which situations, but hopefully I didn't look like as much of a newbie as I felt.

Train to Nowhere

We continued down the road watching the landscape become somewhat greener, more mountainous, and hilly, all 7 pairs of eyes trained on the tundra looking for grizzlies, moose, foxes, or any other cool wildlife we were likely to see. We didn't see anything though, besides the occasional ground squirrel, so at noon we stopped at this site called "Train to Nowhere," aptly named for the rusted train ruins left deteriorating along the side of the road.

Semipalmated Sandpiper

After lunch we continued along our way. The conversations in the car were quite hilarious. I learned two new terms: "i-newbie-aq," a play on the "Inupiaq" to mean someone who is new to local native culture, and my favorite, "termination dust," which is not the nuclear fallout it sounds like, but the first snowfall that terminates the mining season.

Golden eagle chicks

As we got closer to Council, we began driving through mountains and along cliffs. At one point, we stopped on the roadside to photograph a golden eagle nest with two chicks!  

My favorite wildlife spotting of the trip though, was the red fox one of the interns saw coming out of its den on the side of the road. We came to a screeching halt in the car and backed up slowly so as not to scare it off, but soon realized it wasn't in the least bit concerned.

In fact, it trotted around a bit, and eventually went back in one of its holes (it had about 3 in the hillside!), but we found it in the exact same place on our trip back. Beautiful animal, and I was super happy with the photos I got of it.

Council

Eventually we made it to Council. As it turns out though, there is a river between the road and the town so we didn't actually get to go into the town, just look at it from afar. But hey, there were TREES! Real, live trees. Conifers and deciduous species growing side by side along the river giving the landscape a deep green hue and filling the air with the tangy organic scent of leaves and bark. You don't really notice the smell of trees until you haven't been around them for a while.

Dilapidated house

The old buildings were pretty cool too. Many were abandoned, but the village is still used for the fishing season and the occasional traveler passing through.

And so we headed back, another 73 miles of dirt road. Still no grizzlies, but it was neat passing through old ghost towns, mining areas, fishing villages, and driving along the Iditarod trail. I definitely have a new respect for the Iditarod racers now; driving along a road was pretty easy, but I can't imagine doing that by sled in the middle of winter!

Arctic tern fishing

Finally we made it back to Nome at around 5pm, back to the flat, treeless tundra and the cold Bering Sea. I was pretty sleepy after the long car ride, but after dinner I joined a couple of my coworkers for a bike ride back down to the salmon fishing area I had been to the day before.

It was way more crowded this time -- seems word got out about the salmon down there, and unfortunately we didn't catch anything. Nonetheless, I enjoyed a chilly walk along the beach, collecting sea glass, and enjoying the sun, now that it had finally come out.

That was all yesterday. Today was much more mundane. Spent the day at the office, worked on my pictures, started some planning for the new visitor's guide, and then distributed posters of the ranger program schedule throughout town. The rest of the week should be pretty laid back and we're hopefully getting our preserve flyover tour in Monday. Fingers crossed!

Welcome to Nome!

After 18 hours, 2 layovers and a cargo stop in Kotzebue, I've made it to Nome. It's definitely not like the Anchorage area, which was full of beautiful snow-capped mountains and vast evergreen forests. 

Nome is all brown and grey and flat, and kind of perched between a big brown tundra and the coast of Norton Sound on the Bering Sea. I mean, everything about that just sounds cold. And it is. It's about 42 degrees and cloudy right now. Even the buildings look cold. They're mostly wooden or aluminum sided, many rusted, wind-battered, and dilapidated, paint peeling, siding falling off, and piles of junk around them. 

My supervisor gave me a quick driving tour of town after she picked me up from the airport. Most important things are within walking distance, like the grocery store, hospital, restaurants, and my office where I'll be starting tomorrow. It'll take me a while to get the lay of the town, even though it's really small, but hopefully it won't take too long.

The hall

After that, she dropped me back off at the bunkhouse and said, "see you tomorrow!" So now I'm sitting here in my little bedroom awkwardly wondering what to do with the rest of my day.  So here are some pictures. Above is the hallway. It's a lot like a dorm. Temporary guests (interns and researchers) get the top floor where I am right now, and more permanent staff get the bottom floor, where I'll be moving eventually when someone else moves out.

My temporary room

 My room is super tiny and crammed with two beds.

Shared kitchen upstairs

View out my window. 

On the right side of the horizon is a big graveyard

My room looks out on the southwest corner of town, over some rundown buildings and a big graveyard in the distance. There are lots of dogs around town (mostly husky/sled-dog breeds) that bark a lot and I was warned not to get too close to them. There are two outside my window that have literally not stopped barking since I got here. 

At any rate, that's a little snapshot of my initiation into Nome. Maybe I'll take a nap now. Or muster up the courage to go find the grocery store. Or maybe I'll just hide in my room for the rest of the day. Who knows!