Dark as Night

I was thinking about that phrase "as black as night" the other night when it was so dark I couldn't tell the difference between my eyes open and them closed, the kind of discombobulating darkness, where you lose the edges of space and time. It's actually quite unusual for it to be that dark at night. Usually there is some firmament of stars reflecting light, or a high cloud cover that absorbs and reflects light or even a bright moon that may make a winter's northern night seem brighter then day, bright enough to cast shadows on the snow. Often, being under the canopy of trees will make it darker but if there is even a glimmer of snow on the ground you can see your path without the aid of light and when out by the ocean the very movement of the water usually reflects light. Last night was the oily kind of darkness though that forces you to walk by feel and by sound.

I know my route fairly well. At this time of year I tend to walk the abandoned path along the shoreline precisely because it is more light and also because we are less likely to surprise a grumpy moose there and because I love walking the shoreline even in the wind with roaring waves and pounding sleet and having it mostly to ourselves. I always have a headlamp in the pockets of my winter coats because at this time of year you never know when you'll need one but I like to walk without a light. Artificial light can be so exclusive of the night and the sounds and by it's very brightness it can reduce the details of the world around. Even on this darkest of nights I left my light off.

I navigated by the feel and sound of ground under my foot. The slick, smooth accompanied by light cracking noises of the ice along the path edges, the slowly crumpling feel & muted sound of frozen grass, the firmer but yet slightly pebbled feeling and grit grinding noises of the paved path, the rough uneven surface of the rocky shore, the sound of rocks tumbling against each other. I kept the sound of the ocean, it's surface not visible, to my left as I headed out and to my right as I returned. I could not see the Disreputable Dog but I could hear the jangling of his collar in the wind and from time to time I would call him to me just to be sure. And I wondered, what does it mean when someone says "as black" or "as dark as night"? For surely this kind of night comes seldom even here when night last longer then most places.

Conservation Idea

It seems like one of the biggest challenges in the current energy issues, whether it's oil independence or global warming, is how to get people to use less energy. I think that there is a simple way to get North Americans, at least, to cut down on their energy uses if only I could convince all the planning and zoning committees to agree (we could always tie it to a bill, and say we'll withhold road funding or something if they don't do it...that's how come the legal drinking age is the same across the US).


Water & Electricity cost money. North Americans are notorious for always wanting to "save more" money. However, most North Americans have no clue how much water or electricity they use in a given day. So let's place water & electrical meters by the front door at about nose level where people can see the numbers changing daily. Better yet, make those meters look like your gas pump where next to the consumption level you have the amount of money that consumption costs. If people saw this daily I suspect they would immediately start to reduce their usage. Imagine if every faucet and outlet/light switch had a little meter by it that ran with amounts used and money charged by it? People would start turning off their lights when they left the room, they would stop leaving the water running while they brushed their teeth. Family members would start nagging each other to do these things.

What do you think? Would it work?

7 Random Facts Meme

I was tagged by EcoGeoFemme over at The Happy Scientist for 7 Random facts meme. Not long after I started this blog I posted 10 Random Facts about me as sort of an introduction and I will try not to duplicate the results here. (Click on that link if you want to see what I posted then.)

A Beach in Newfoundland (2005)

1. My high school diploma is on rawhide. Yep. And no, I don't have a paper copy. It was a requirement at my school to climb the highest local mountain in order to graduate. And our school mascot? Rocky Mountain Oysters.

Rock with Coral in Newfoundland (2005)

2. I am notorious for blistered feet. I always joke that if I haven't worn a pair of slippers in two days I would blister in them but the sad thing is, it's probably true. As a result I go nowhere without my niffty little blister kit and have been wrangelled into treating other peoples blisters on more hiking trips then I can remember. When I was doing field work in Utah we used to entertain ourselves by guessing how many new blisters WS got at the end of the day. Believe me, I have tried absolutely everything when it comes to preventing blisters and can say that I have happily figured the magic formula for making particularly painful blisters still walkable. And yes, duct tape travels as part of my blister kit (when in Scotland recently my friend S said "no! you didn't! you brought that duct tape just for C!" and C said "you can take the girl out of Alaska but you can't take Alaska out of the girl" in a delighted tone).

Humpack Whale, Russian Far East (2006)

3. I had surgey on my right hip in 2000. This year is the first time post surgery that I have been able to run on it! Wheeee! Unfortunately, I still have residual problems with a pinched sciatica on the left side as a result of the problem in the hip and so I really have to restrain myself. And? Standing for long periods of time is extremely painful so I have tendency to lean against things when standing around chatting at any gathering or finding myself the only person in the room sitting down.

Shell with Lichen on Prince Edward Island Beach (2005)

4. I've been shot at while working more often then a friend of mine who is a cop. Seriously. In Washington, Montana, Utah, and Alaska. The last time I was shot at I was defending sonar equipment on a sandbar somewhere north of the arctic circle from some lovely local blokes who had taken their firefighting pay to the only non-dry town in the area (via boat mind, as we were way beyond the reach of roads) and gotten sodden with drink & smoke. They came back full of piss and vinegar in the middle of the night determineed to either a) steal the Disreputable Dog or b) wreck vengenace on the US government for all of the wrongs ever commited against Native Americans (this was a US Fish & Wildlife Project). Luckily they were too pissed to have any decent aim and luckily the Direseputable Dog was having absolutely nothing to do with getting in their boat despite the newly dead moose lying in the bottom of the boat (shot, before drinking I believe). I was understandably cranky about getting out of my sleeping bag at 2am and was none to understanding with being shot at but nonetheless managed to talk them into dropping their weapons (and staying out of camp because once there they would be there for a LONG time and we had work to do) and collapsing in tears on the riverbank. Needless to say I also refused the offer of an awesome pair of firefighting pants in return for marriage to one of the blokes. But you know, it was tempting.

Beach grass, Prince Edward Island (2005)

5. Once upon a time I actually danced for a professional ballet company. I know, I can hardly believe it either! I wasn't particulary good (read, I was never prima donna/ solo, material) but there you are. On a daily basis people wrote up everybody's thigh circumferences on the wall for comparison and near performances we would get locked in the theatre between rehersals so no one would sneak out and eat anything. My least favorite director came from Russia and would put her cigarettes out on our legs when she was displeased with something. I still cannot bear to watch the Nutcracker Suite and everytime I hear the music (which is daily this time of year) I have a little reel of characters running through my head practicing for the big show.

Kelp, Newfoundland (2005)

6. One of the questions that comes up with my funding ending is whether or not to leave AK. I am really torn about whether or not to leave Alaska more permanently after the holidays. I was talking to a friend here about this over a glass of wine and she feels the same way. It's not that we are ambivalent, in fact, we feel passionately about both staying and leaving. What is it about Alaska that does this? Then looking around the blogosphere I found this post from an aquaintence (Ben Huff) agonizing over the question of 'When are we Alaskan?" . And it seems part of the problem is that Alaska does take root in your heart; it feels as if the identity of being an Alaskan is something that you sweated blood and tears for; it's as if it is it's own country. And there's a feeling that if you leave for the realtively cush life in the lower 48 that you're just not tough enough, that you failed somehow. I have lived in many different US States & Canadian Provinces over the years and yet Alaska is the only one that I ever claimed as a home when people ask where I'm from. How does one go back to not being an Alaskan? And yet, there are such wonderful things about living in a place where there is more regular daylight, where life isn't so tough, where dating isn't a game of Russian roulette. But do I want to live in a place where people find so much to be busy about nothing? Where they forget that so much of what we do are to fufill our basic requirements of food, water, and shelter? Where people are always talking and yet always lonely? So you see... my mind goes round and round.

Autumn grass (2007)

7. My master's thesis advisor was very upset when the University banned guns from the campus. He could be heard complaining to the secretary in loud cursing tones and I quote "How am I supposed to defend myself if one of my graduate students decides to come in and shoot me?". He never seemed to realize that perhaps the fact that he thought this was a likely possibility was disturbing in itself. Unfortunately, he wasn't the type to inspire people to go after him but rather to attempt to take their own lives.

Whale vertebrae & driftwood, Bering Island, Russia (2006)

7 people who's blogs I enjoy and who may consider themselves tagged if they wish. If you're listed & you've done it please just ignore.

(again, going with the theme of people I haven't yet mentioned in my blog)

Liv of Madness, Maddnes, I say
QT of Can we Kick the Bar Here
CAE of VWXYNot
Trousers of The Trouser Press
Crazymumma of Crazymumma
Mad Hatter of A Mad Tea Party
Mad of Under the Mad Hat

Rules: Link to the person that tagged you and post the rules on your blog.2- Share 7 random and or weird things about yourself.3- Tag 7 random people at the end of your post and include links to their blogs.4- Let each person know that they have been tagged by leaving a comment on their blog.

King Island Christmas

"We'll tell you a story, a Christmas story.

It's our Christmas present to you.

We've wrapped it in music, instead of paper and we're here to sing it through.

It's called King Island Christmas and every word is true.

It's a story of people who stick together and what those people can do."

-

I've just pulled out my x-mas music. I wonder about all of you living in more urban climes if you aren't already tired of the seasonal jingles which get piped into every human occupied place? I know I would be, but the only music I hear is what I play. And one of my absolute favorites has never been piped into any room and is actually the perfect music to listen to when stressed and uncertain about the future (can you imagine that I might be that?). In particular, the song about "the gift of trouble" puts me to tears.

When I first moved to Alaska I was living in Fairbanks and around Christmas I was looking for some sort of holiday theater. There was no Nutcracker, no A Christmas Carol. Instead there was King Island Christmas, a musical inspired by a true story about an Inupiat Eskimo village in the Bering Sea of Alaska. The North Star freighter, carrying the village priest & the villager's winter food supplies, is anchored in the Bering Sea on Christmas eve, on it’s last arctic voyage before the winter ice closes in around King Island (also known as Ukivok - red dot on Alaska map below for approximate location). The waves are too high for the villagers to go out and fetch the priest in their walrus skin boats; without him, there will be no Christmas celebration and they will not have their winter supplies. In a communal effort, the villagers triumphantly carry their oomiak (walrus skinned boat - the original kayaks) over a mountain to the calmer waters of the lee, and bring the priest & supplies ashore. King Island Christmas is a heartwarming story about the power of community and the ability of the human spirit to overcome adversity.

I was captivated. It is an amazing story and the songs it sings! The music and this story to me embody so much of what I feel the holidays are originally about, about good food and company, about community and pulling together to get through the long days, of passing knowledge and traditions between the generations, of sharing your love for one another, of looking for the beauty in your environment, and being thankful for what you have, of overcoming things together. The things that sometimes seem shoved aside as we rush around buying things we don't need.

King Island Christmas has become one of my cherished holiday traditions. I love the songs. I love the spirit of community. One year I found CD's of the musical and bought copies for many of my friends and family members. The next year I wanted to get it for a few people I had left out and was sad to find it had been discontinued. Ever since then it has been my mission to share King Island Christmas with someone each holiday season. To my delight both the book, with lovely illustrations by Alaskan artists, and the CD are now more widely available. If I could I would give each and every one of you a copy. So if you are looking for new music check it out!

Frozen Puddles

Sunrise this morning (taken by Nate Chambers). I

haven't downloaded my own yet.

I am usually a morning person but this chest cold in combination with the sun not bothering to rise over the mountain peaks until nigh 10:30 or 11 am is doing me in and it's only November. This morning my alarm went off first, I hit the snooze until it no longer rang, feeling the warmth of my bed. Then the paper star lamp went on bathing my room in mellow light and still I resisted opening my eyes, slipping from my dream world. The radio came on and by now the Disreputable Dog was getting anxious, stretching at maximum tag ringing capacity, pushing his wet nose under the comforter, sighing loudly. The Disreputable Cat didn't really care whether I got up or not but since she was awake it was a good time to attack my feet or to see if I would provide her with her own live heating pad. And slowly, like from the depths of a deep well, I pulled myself awake, coughing up deep meaty, almost edible coughs and reluctantly surrendered my bed. Where upon, his job done, the Disreputable Dog immediately went into his kennel and went back to sleep until summoned for his morning walk.

A November frozen shore in Quebec (2005)

For the first time in two weeks it was neither snowing nor raining and the whole world had turned crisp and twinkling with the star footprints of Jack Frost. The puddles had all frozen into panes of white that are absolutely delightful to smash. Frozen puddle jumping is one of those delightful activities that is so much fun you almost feel guilty about it. I mean, smashing puddles? That sounds almost ominous, like a predilection for violence. The Disreputable Dog, no fool, goes for the deeper puddles where there might still be some water under the freeze and digs himself a fresh drink while I happily clink and clatter through the puddles around him. We gambol our way through the frozen neighborhoods, the water saturated soil crunching delightfully beneath our feet, the streets dark and empty but for ourselves and the occasional rabbit. Sunrise was not until much later - one of the advantages of living at such high latitudes is that at this time of year, although the sun never makes it very high in the sky, there are very prolonged sunrise-sets (see top pic)...sometimes one fades into the other.

A crisp November morning in Newfoundland (2005)

Interestingly the change of seasonal light seems to have a strong effect on the animals as well as the humans. The Disreputable Cat is no longer batting the window shade over my bed two hours before I wake and seems mildly disgruntled that I do get out of bed. The Disreputable Dog likewise will sleep all morning long if my various waking devices don't go off. He only bothers to get up because he figures someone has to get my sorry bum out of bed because that's why I have all those devices going off, right? And then he promptly returns to bed, snoring slightly because he has propped his chin up on the edge of his kennel.

Flabbergasted

The other day I was sitting in a coffee shop chatting with the barista. Next to me sat the husband of one of my co-workers who proposed to me that I ought to find a solution to my job problem by "marrying a PhD and then tagging onto whatever grants he gets". WHAT? Excuse me? There are so many things that bother me about this idea that I'm not even going to start.

PS - Jen, I hope you don't mind that I've stolen your label for this, it seemed most appropriate.

Freezer Project

Sometimes it's a disadvantage not being a girly girl. Take for instance the distinct lack of pantyhose in my house yesterday evening when I desperately needed some to strain the seeds and stems off my gallon of frozen wild chokecherries. A woolen sock just wouldn't do. Instead I had to fashion something using a sterile gaze bandage pad from my first aid kit and a bit of twine. Well, it's not as neat as the pantyhose would have been but it will do as I'm certainly not about to go out and buy pantyhose. I plop the bundle into hot roiling water and muse whether or not I should add more cranberries to my hot cider. I should be sleeping, trying to overcome this nasty cold I've come down with, but instead I'm trying to bake the contents of my freezer.

Since there are no jobs to be had in this Small Town South of the Permafrost in the winter at all, as the whole thing has more or less shut down, and won't be any jobs in my field any time soon here in particular, I've decided to move. I've brought up the subject rather tactfully among friends here who all immediately respond that staying in Small Town South of the Permafrost without a job would be, well, suicide. I hadn't wanted to point that out but it seems that everybody comes to the same conclusion. Darkness, wetness, and isolation have a negative impact on the mind without a compelling distraction and I can't exactly afford the rent and the heat in this place without an income. So I'm off to, er, somewhere. The current plan is to schlep all my stuff to storage in Los Anchorage and then fly to my parents' in the Western Lower 48 (USA) with both of the Disreputables for x-mas as planned long ago. After that I'm not really sure. One thing is for sure, both Los Anchorage & Parents' Town in the Western Lower 48 both have more winter job opportunities to tide me over until I get a REAL job (i.e. in my field) then my current location.

Which leads me to my freezer. I've decided I'm going to try and use up and eat as much as I can of it's contents. Which may prove to be a challenge. In between hacking, chest-searing coughs I rummage through the contents: huckleberries, low-bush cranberries, high-bush cranberries, blueberries, nangoon berries, raspberries, bear berries, chokecherries, puffball mushrooms, lentil soup, mushroom soup, rhubarb, bean soup, jalapenos, stacks and stacks of halibut & salmon, clams, Bing cherries, red cabbage, a lone package of moose burger. The only thing in there I didn't harvest myself are the jalapenos & the Bing cherries. I'm not worried about the fish, anything I don't manage to eat I'll just take with me which will delight my father & sister. But the berries! I think there is going to be a lot of baking around here in the next few weeks along with packages showing up on the doorsteps and desks of friends and aquaintences.