Going home again

Coming back to Alaska after any length of absence is always a bit of a shock, simultaneously serving as a reminder of why I love being here and why it is so hard to be so far away from family and friends. This time it has been particularly shocking, however, and if it weren’t for the hot weather (a few hours ago, I saw a thermometer that read 87 degrees) and days like today… spent fishing with my friend Brian… I think I’d maybe be back on the first flight to Colorado.

As most people out there already know, three weeks (and one day) ago, my dad died unexpectedly. He was too young and too full of curiosity and excitement about life to go… we already miss him terribly and I think my sisters, my mom, and I are still trying to understand the enormity of our loss. In the past weeks, however, I’ve had the good fortune of seeing so many people who knew my dad – several of them I already knew, many I did not. Best friends, colleagues, neighbors, cousins…  My dad wove a truly diverse life, and he will be remembered for it.

I was torn about whether to stay in my lovely home state of Colorado for the rest of the summer or returning North.  In many ways, it would have been an easy decision – Colorado is one of the prettiest places in the world during summer and Coloradoans are a special blend of city weekend warriors and midwestern friendly neighbors. But I decided to come back to Alaska.  I am now in Juneau, a place that isn’t even my home right now, but is as good a place as any to fly into.  It seems a veritable heat wave in Juneau, which takes some planning for outdoor adventure time.  I flew in Friday night, just in time to catch the midnight fireworks display over the Gastineau Channel with my friend Garold.  I left him downtown, driving out to my friend Emily’s sweet little cabin out the road, falling asleep almost before my head hit the pillow.

I slept soundly. Actually, it was probably the best sleep I’ve had since mid-June and I woke up more than refreshed the next morning. Saturday I opted against journeying back downtown for the parade (though somewhat intrigued about whether Sarah Palin would show) and instead spent a wonderfully lazy morning drinking coffee and devouring my newest favorite book, The Alienist by Caleb Carr.

I couldn’t stand the idea of letting the rare, clear sunshiny Juneau day slip too much away, however, and so I hiked up to the top of Mt. Juneau… I think it is about a 2 or 3 mile hike up the 3,500 foot mountain. As I ascended, I spent a lot of time thinking about my parents last visit to Alaska about two years ago. I was living in Juneau then and we had a great time visiting bears on Admiralty Island, eating fish and chips at the Sandbar, and taking walks on the docks in the harbors around town.  My legs were hurting as I went up, but I was encouraged by the boundless energy of little Sadie, who often appears exhausted only to get a second (and third, fourth, and fifth) wind as soon as she hears the squeeking sound of a rock creature or the flapping wings of a bird in the bushes.

The view at the top was stunning and I sat on the north side of the peak for about fifteen minutes, looking up the channel and toward the rest of the state. Sadie rolled in the snow and chased some small creatures. I ate a Snickers and wished myself a very happy Fourth of July. It was perfect.

Today was another perfect day (though I doubt Brian would think so).  We went fishing for halibut and did catch one – rather small, but I’m not picky. It was a wonderful day on the water despite the choppy water and the (as it turned out) relatively minor mistake we made in hitting a hidden reef.

It was the kind of day my dad would have loved.  And I’m not quite sure why, but it makes me happy knowing I know that about him.

 

Juneau or bust

I’m boarding the ferry to Juneau in a few hours, getting ready to fall back in love with Southeast Alaska (as if I haven’t already during my few days hanging out in Haines).  I will be there for the next few weeks and am curious whether it’ll be the place that I end up returning to in a few months.  Big questions that I’m not read to answer yet.

So far the weather has been so pretty it is hard not to stare at the mountains around this sweet little fishing village.  I wish I had taken some photos, but sometimes it is nice to just have a pleasant memory.

 

Dalton Highway and Beyond

It was a great trip up the Dalton to Toolik. We made quick stops at Coldfoot and Wiseman and were blessed with an extra day in Toolik because of windy drifts.

A few photos will have to suffice. We made a brief stop in Coldfoot for breakfast all day.  A slew of truckers were already there. It was muddy, sunny and nice.

At the top of Atigun Pass, we were stalled for about three hours in the avalanche safety zone. An avalanche come down the mountain just in front of us and a truck was stuck.  The rest of us waited until DOT cleared the way. Our little van is on the right in the second row.

We arrived soon enough, enjoying a game of 80s Trivial Pursuit and waking up to yet another clear, sunny day.

Then the wind started to blow….

And the drifts piled up. We were stuck for a third night.

We watched movies, read books, played a game of Pictionary… and enjoyed the stunning surroundings.

And on the way home to Fairbanks, we made a slight detour to Wiseman.

 

Toolik-bound

A small crew of us from my department is headed on our first class field trip this weekend.  It promises to be good times, though a long ride in a 15-person van.

We are going to Toolik Field Station - the university’s research station on the Dalton Highway just beyond the Brooks Range.  We are all social scientists, which doubles the adventure for us.  Most of the time, our research involves nestling into archives, books, or harassing people for their opinions and knowledge.

We’ll be just a smidgen closer to the North Pole at 68°38’N, 149°36’W and we’ll be 170 miles north of the Arctic Circle.  Of course, neither the North Pole nor the Arctic Circle mean much, but there is something compelling about being able to orient yourself in relation to them.

Here’s a map of our destination:

I’ve driven by Toolik before so I have a picture of what it looks like on the tundra, at the edge of the foothills…  That was a year and a half ago while on a hunting trip with some friends.  I’ve been curious about the place ever since. I’ve heard that there is great food there and a splendid sauna. People have called it the McMurdo station of North.

Toolik lies just to the west of one of the eastern borders of the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge.  We’ll also be closer to the oil fields of Prudhoe Bay (but unfortunately, not close enough that polar bears from the Beaufort Sea would wander down).

It should be a memorable trip.

 

Spring Stroll

Taking advantage of daylight isn’t difficult when the skies are so clear and the temperatures aren’t below freezing. I headed out with dog this morning for our daily stroll in the network of trails behind the house.  It was a little slushy, but not too bad since it was still early in the day.  Perfect.

A neighbor of mine is building some sort of structure next to the trail.  I can’t quite figure it out – nor can I figure why he’s put it smack in the middle of a confluence of trails, especially when there is so much space that is not near any trail.  But whatever, it is an interesting curiosity.  You can’t really see it below that well, but besides the trail in front, there is one perpendicular on the far side of the structure.  In the summertime, there is a lake beyond and is a nice area for seeing birds (if you remember mosquito repellent).

Sadie is wildly restless these days.

It is a serious chore to keep her exercised.  She is almost five years old, but acts like she’s barely two.

Sometimes I don’t act my age either.

I still have many (metaphorical) miles to go before I can say I successfully finished this semester.  Everything will hopefully be wrapped up within the next few weeks.

But I’m certainly looking forward to summer.

 

Sweet Basil Beginnings

Busy times in this little cabin.  I’m eagerly anticipating the growth of my newly-planted basil seeds.  They are just peaking out of the dirt. Quite cute. I just want to pinch their little leaves.

There was some nervousness around here during the germination process because I was explicitly told by a gardening guru neighbor of mine that I needed to keep them in a warm place. I refused, instead preferring to keep them on the window sill with the idea that they would get light/heat best there.  Of course, we’ve been plagued by some cool nights still here in Fairbanks and as temperatures dipped, the area near my window was much cooler than other parts of the house. But those stalwart suckers prevailed and are popping up nicely.  I’m mulling the idea of making a time-lapse video of their progress.

I am still shocked! SHOCKED! that spring is here. It utterly unbelievable to live this far north in the spring. Some people thing it is a pissy time of year, with all that ugliness re-emerging from the snowy depths. But I look upwards at the sun and blue skies and celebrate.  Besides, we are getting something ridiculous like 15 hours of daylight and I just want to have a dance party all day long. So instead, I will channel the energy to planting a little garden.

It won’t be big. I’ve obviously begun with basil.  Last year I grew parsley, broccoli, and tomatoes. The only bust was the tomato plant, but I was pleased with the success of the other veggies. Hopefully this summer will be a bountiful harvest.

Also lovely are the frolicking white rabbits in my yard – which I believe might be a mating thing.  Sadie prefers to be outside on the porch and when these rabbits come out, she can hardly restrain herself (so I do, by tying her to the deck).  It is almost unbearable for her, but she loves to watch.  Doggy porn?

 

Food adventuring

Ha. I don’t know why I felt so compelled to jump into the world of blogging politics, it is really not my style. So I apologize to my friends and family (the people who primarily read this!) for the small tirade.

I think spring might have  officially “arrived” in the Far North. We’re getting more hours of daylight than darkness… and it only gets better from here. As a result, the ice/snow combination on my deck is melting away AND I LOVE IT. Love it. This time of year is wonderfully refreshing in Fairbanks and every time I think about moving away from here (thoughts that permeate my brain during December/January) I am rejuvenated in March. Hell.

Since spring is about celebrating newness, I think I’ll write about two delightful parts of Fairbanks I’ve recently “discovered.” They both have to do with food. Yum.

1) Saturday night I went to dinner with a friend at a restaurant called Wasabi Bay. It’s on S. Cushman, but when she first mentioned that this is where she wanted to go I thought she was proposing a trip to the coast. No – it is a Japanese restaurant nestled in a strip mall. I ordered an eel roll and tuna roll and drank hot tea and slurped down miso soup. I think the both of us were in heaven, considering it was a bit of a surprise that we’d find a Japanese restaurant up here – and one that wasn’t bad at all! I was pleased. I would go back.

2) The second “discovery” happened a few weeks ago… again, I was with a friend, and again, we went to a place I’d never knew existed. I think I’m possibly in love with this place – Marty’s Bake Shop. It’s tucked in a corner of an office park/industrial area (don’t ask why we were over there to begin with). We split a turkey sandwich with provolone cheese and yum vegetables. I will say absolutely it is the best sandwich I’ve had in Alaska. Hands down. I rate my delis on their turkey sandwiches (sortof like I rate my breakfast joints on their eggs benedict). This was it – fresh bread, good ingredients, and surprisingly cheaper than most other places I’ve been in Fairbanks.

I’m happy. Food adventuring and the arrival of spring… what could be better?

 

UPDATED: An interesting question of anonymity

The past day I’ve been thinking a lot about the somewhat bizarre – though admittedly compelling – Internet feud going on between Anchorage representative Mike Doogan and a woman named Jeanne in Anchorage who goes by the blogger name of AKMuckraker and who writes the hugely popular blog on Alaska politics, The Mudflats. Essentially, AKMuckraker’s real name was revealed by Doogan in a newsletter to his constituents and the people who follow Mudflats are livid, saying she has been unfairly “outted.”

The problem I have though is this: What the hell is the big deal?

As far as I can tell, Doogan is being demonized for doing something any former journalist would be compelled to do, that is, promote transparency and accountability. I might question his motivation and his tactic of using a constituent newsletter to do so, but in reality, those types of newsletters are designed to give news to constituents about what an elected official is doing.

But I’m getting a bit ahead of myself.

As far as I can gather, the situation is this: Jeanne started blogging about a year ago, encouraged by friends and coworkers who liked the way she presented her opinions. She blogged about Alaska politics and, particularly, about Sarah Palin. This theme obviously became an international curiosity with McCain’s pick of Palin for VP last August.

Hungry for the inside scoop on our governor, people started flocking to Mudflats… and kept returning because it was juicy, insightful, and well-written. People started leaving comments on her posts, sometimes numbering in the dozens or hundreds and Jeanne herself said she was getting thousands of hits daily. With the growing popularity, some people might have started getting curious about her identity, but Jeanne was very open about her intention to remain anonymous. Even her gender was not going to be revealed.

Intriguing. Mysterious. A gimmick?

Probably, but that’s not such an issue. A lot of bloggers start out anonymous and it doesn’t really matter if they stay that way – after all, most people don’t care about the last name of the kid in your photo wearing a tutu. But wait, Mudflats isn’t a family blog that might be seen only by curious aunts. And it certainly isn’t a blog that might be potentially embarrassing or emotionally difficult – like one about the personal life of a porn star or the tribulations of living with a terminal illness.

It is a political blog. It’s sortof like being hired as a dancer in a strip club… then getting mad that the men are staring at your boobs.

It does beg the question, however… at what point – if ever – should one step out of anonymity and accept the responsibility that comes with helping to set the tone for the way our society looks at itself?

It is a tough call, but I do think that Mudflats probably crossed the threshold a little while ago and should have accepted the responsibility – and honor – that comes with people have respect for your opinions.

I guess the situation irks me for a few reasons:

1.) I don’t agree with the kind of anonymity that Mudflats was promoting because I think it is more hurtful than helpful.

Anonymous bashing makes people – particularly those who are not inherently combative or attention-seeking – less willing to engage in the public process. This is unfortunate. We need good people to be our leaders – not just those who have the thickest skins.

That translates into people being less willing to run for public office. People being; less willing to be interviewed by newspaper reporters – or bloggers; people being less willing to leave their own anonymous comments on blogs and online newspapers that allow comments. A society takes all kinds of people to work, and I think it shameful that we would set up a system that makes people afraid to be a part of the public discourse. I do think that if you encourage individuals to use their own names, you are elevating the level of discourse – and hopefully limiting the kind of abuses that make some people not want to be a part of the public debate.

I myself stopped commenting on stories on the ADN’s Web site after someone told me that they thought I should be euthanized because I said that the city’s animal shelter euthanasia rate could be lower. Really? I should be euthanized? Not even the biggest asshole would say that kind of thing to my face during a discussion about the topic. Anonymity has this magical power of turning regular people into assholes.

But whatever. I do think there is an inherent value in being able to comment on stories on blogs or online news sites and I think it idiotic and short-sighted that the Juneau Empire recently disabled comments on theirs.

I often don’t read the comment section myself – but sometimes I do and sometimes I enjoy it. I don’t think it is a right or a privilege, however. I just think it is an element that can add to the public dialogue. And sometimes it is just fun, like a college sociology class or a cage boxing tournament.

2.) The other problem that I have with the situation is that I don’t think that anonymity itself is a “right.”

What if AKMuckraker was actually another elected official? What if she chose one day to run for office? As readers, I guess that you are just supposed to trust that she isn’t violating any potential ethical lines.

This is part of the odd irony in AKMuckraker’s irritation at being outted. The blog seems to have piqued people’s interest in part because it reveals interesting things about our leaders and our community. And AKMuckraker draws interesting connections and questions intentions of those individuals. I even recently e-mailed a Mudflats story about Palin’s selection for Attorney General to my dad because I liked the AKMuckraker’s insight. But AKMuckraker doesn’t live in a fishbowl, looking out at a world that she is separated from and that’s why I just don’t think that she should have remained anonymous.

I guess I believe not only in understanding what is said, but who says it. I think AKMuckraker does too, which is why I find it odd that she is so livid about having her name out there.

I think Mudflats just got too big too fast for its author to reassess whether her anonymity was really okay anymore. And now, based on her reaction to Doogan’s “outing” of her, it seems that she – and others – feel a sense of entitlement to anonymity.

Huh, doesn’t this sound familiar? This might seem like a bit of a stretch here, but I get a similar sense in tone from Jeanne’s letter and this op-ed piece in the New York Times last week.

Sure, it might be lame that this guy is getting “punished” for the AIG screw-up when he didn’t even work in the responsible department… just like it might be lame that Doogan felt compelled to “out” Jeanne.

But both are missing the bigger point: That guys bonus was going to be $742,006.40 after taxes! And Jeanne was using her anonymity to feel free to jab (however wittily) at others.

I think Jeanne should be welcomed out of the world of anonymity and supported by both her foes and friends to continue on with Mudflats.

And, she should be proud that she’s created this online community, stop playing victim, and get over quickly the issue of her “outing.” It’s just not that big of a deal.

 

Jumping back in

It’s been a long time since I’ve posted a blog entry. Months! I blame the cold Arctic weather and lack of sunshine for my lack of attentiveness to blog duties.

The first few days of spring, however, are already shaping up nicely – and with lots of sunlight. The temperatures outside are still hovering below the minus zero mark, though, and I am beginning to get a bit impatient. I did experience a small rush of excitement yesterday when I walked outside my cabin and glanced at the thermometer – it read 80 degrees F.

Alas, I moved it out of the sun and into the shade, watching sadly how quickly the needle began dropping.

But I am feeling the desire to blog again – perhaps a sign that spring is really here? I already feel a bit rusty. Hopefully that trepidation will melt away with the spring sun.

p.s. Happy Birthday, Dad!

 

Winter is here

Winter is here in Fairbanks and I can’t decide whether I am ready for it or not.  I miss fickle fall, which comes on strong and disappears too quickly.  As of a few days ago, we’ve got several inches of powder sugary snow on the ground. The skies have been clear and blue, and the dog is losing her mind every hour, whining to get outside and bury her face in it.

I went for my first snow run of the season yesterday. We’ve had a bit of snow for a while and though I have gone out, yesterday was the first time I put on the little red cleats that keep me from slipping around.  Last year I wore them a bunch when trail running behind my cabin and they make me fearless.  I was happy to slip them on yesterday again, needing them mostly for the mile stretch up Miller Hill Extension – a slippery gauntlet.  Since this summer, I’ve also gotten in the habit of keeping Sadie on a leash while we run. I attach her to my waist and she tugs ever-so-slightly.  She is my pace-keeper and I like watching her furry butt as we run.

I have abandoned all hopes that she will be my skijoring queen, but that’s OK. I’m not sure how I feel about cross-country skiing anyway and think I’ll stick to snow running for the time being anyway….

Last year it took me a while to start running on a snow and ice-covered surface. I think I was a bit skeptical, or afraid of the unusual terrain.  It does feel different.  The cleats make my feet slightly heavier and when I turned off hard, ice-packed road onto a trail, I sunk in.  I move slower, each step takes a bit more effort.  I dig it.

This summer’s trip to Brazil seems so far away – not to mention the overbearing heat and the presence of venemous animals.  In celebration of nonsequitors, I’ll post a few more photos from that trip.  Oh, also – because I have recently begun drinking mate out of a mug fashioned from the horn from one of these guys:

This poor cowboy nearly got mauled by one of those horns: