Into the Alaska Range

One of the things that makes Alaska unique is the vast amount of the state without any road system. Whereas Kansas has over 140,000 miles of public roads, Alaska has less than 16,000 miles. The difference is even more drastic considered that Alaska is over eight time as large as Kansas. The point is, there is a lot more to Alaska than one can see from the seat of a car. I recently got a chance to see one part of that Alaska – wild, sweeping, and remote.

The story begins a month ago as I was getting ready to fly to Unalakleet, a small city on the western coast of Alaska. I was to be out on the Iditarod Trail with another BLM employee during the Iditarod – checking in on BLM public use cabins along the trail and performing other duties related to the race. It was a disappointment, then, when the trip was cancelled due to unnaturally warm temperatures and lack of snow. Our snowmachines would be of less use than four-wheelers, as much of the snow was completely gone along the trail. Last week however, I was given another chance to experience a part of Alaska beyond the Anchorage area. The same BLM employee I was to go out with on the Iditarod trail needed to do a “post-event inspection” of one of the Iditarod checkpoints, to make sure everything at the cabin and surrounding site was in order after all the mushers went through. The checkpoint happened to be Rohn Cabin, located in the Alaska Range and home to some of the best scenery along the Iditarod route. As it turned out, there was an extra seat on the airplane heading out to the cabin and so I was able to catch a ride, and also serve as the “official photographer” (a more ceremonial title than anything, though I did document the inspection of the site). Just under 140 miles northwest of Anchorage, the flight in the single-propeller airplane took an hour and fifteen minutes. 

 

the plane we flew in with

Of course, it felt much shorter as the snow-capped mountains and clear blue sky captivated me and the other three souls on board.

Interesting to see some of the cuts that have been made through the land.

Mount Foraker, left, and Mount Denali, right as seen from about 70 miles away.

Mounts Foraker and Denali respectively again on the horizon

We were on the ground for only an hour and a half – and that included lunch. We inspected the cabin, to make sure everything was clean and in order. Another thing we checked was the pile of straw that had been used for dog bedding – it all needs to be burned or airlifted out.

Rohn Cabin, a BLM public shelter cabin and checkpoint on the Iditarod trail

My fellow BLMer checking the straw that will need to be taken care of to avoid spreading invasive species.

on the ground at Rohn 

After our short time on the ground, we all loaded back up in the plane and headed back to Anchorage. It was a little surreal, being whisked out into the middle of a huge wilderness, and then back to civilization in a matter of hours. In any case, it was quite an experience – and a great way to see a part of Alaska I never would have been able to see otherwise.

Thanks for reading my blog and keep on enjoying your extra minutes of daylight!

Fairbanks and the Arctic Winter Games

Though we weren’t able to attend the winter Olympics in Sochi, this past weekend, our unit got a little flavor of what the games might have been like. We had the privilege of volunteering with the 2014 Arctic Winter Games held in Fairbanks, Alaska. The Arctic Winter Games, held every two years, is a “high-profile circumpolar sport competition for Northern and Arctic athletes” – mainly youth, ages 12-18.  There were 9 “contingents” of athletes: teams Alaska, Greenland, Sapmi (a group of indigenous peoples of northern Scandinavia), Yamal (one of the provinces of Russia), and several teams from various regions of Canada. Approximately 2,000 athletes from these respective teams competed in any one of 20 events, ranging from traditional native games to winter snow sports to games like basketball, indoor soccer, and ping-pong.

As volunteers, our group did just that – volunteer. The first evening volunteering, we set up beds and accommodations for teams as they arrived. It was a fun to be amongst the athletes: a group from Russia participating in wrestling, an entourage of Norwegian cross-country skiers, a number of Greenlandic youth taking part in traditional native sports, and more. At times there were language barriers, but smiles basically transcend all obstacles and I could identify with these teenagers as they engaged in horseplay and chased each other through the halls. (Another humorous thing was seeing many athletes from outside the US or Canada flocking to the vending machines and McDonalds of Fairbanks - quintessential “American” institutions, for good or for worse…)

Most of my volunteering, however, consisted of event photography. Several months ago when applying to be a volunteer, the position of photographer caught my eye. Over the course of the three days, I photographed volleyball, indoor soccer, and slalom snowboarding. My photography background consists almost entirely of nature photography, but I enjoyed this jaunt into new subject matter. Also, it gave me an excuse to be up and close to the games!

I came away from my time at the Arctic Winter Games with a heightened appreciation of the diversity of the world. This event is such a cool fusion of cultures, people, languages, and traditions. An interesting moment occurred at the Opening Ceremonies when a local high school vocal group sang all the national anthems of those represented at these games. I don’t tend to be an overly patriotic individual, but hearing all the national anthems made me proud to live in a world with so many diverse, unique, and rich groups of people.

Of course, we also had time to explore Fairbanks outside of the Arctic Winter Games. Our first night up, we headed out of town to Chena Hot Springs and enjoyed some time in the springs, around which a resort has sprouted up. The springs are an average of 106 degrees year round, and we heard stories from previous units of how exciting it was to have your hair freezing while your body was surrounded by warm water. However, for the first half of our long weekend, it was rather balmy: 45 degrees when we arrived in Fairbanks. Though we were mostly appreciative of the lack of -40 degree temperatures (something that Fairbanks is known for), no hair froze during our stay in the springs. That night, we stayed at a public use cabin, enjoying the wood stove, our warm sleeping bags, and a short ski jaunt in the morning.

The public use cabin

cooking up breakfast

During our time volunteering, we were fortunate to stay in the house of a member of fledgling Fairbanks Mennonite fellowship. Like a good number of homes in Fairbanks, this house did not have running water. As such, we filled up a 5 gallon jug every day in town to replenish what we had used the day before. Nevertheless, it was a great place to stay and we were all very comfortable.

The house at night with the moon

The outhouse with red heat lamp!

Fairbanks is known for hosting the World Ice Art Championships. We got in on the festivities one afternoon and meandered through the multitude of ice sculptures. Ranging from single block carvings to huge, towering creations, we were in amazement at the skill of these ice carvers. Artists come from all over the world to compete in this event, each producing a magnificent ice creation in the end. 

Leah getting eaten by an ice bear.

And so, we returned home after our long weekend, a little tired, but with plenty of memories of Fairbanks and the Arctic Winter Games.

Though Fairbanks is known for its good northern lights, this is the best we saw during our stay. Still fun, though!

The Iditarod

Last weekend Anchorage was a flurry of celebration, excitement, and people (notably people from outside Alaska). The source of all these festivities, of course, was the start of the Iditarod. The famed sled dog race runs for almost 1000 miles across Alaska and up its western coast. Billed as “the last great race” the Iditarod draws the attention of the nation (and the world) as the mushers and their dogs make the epic journey from Anchorage to Nome. Actually, Anchorage is home to the “ceremonial” start – the real racing begins the next day in a town 80 miles north. That doesn’t stop the Anchorage ceremonial start from being a huge media and fan favorite. The mushers begin in downtown Anchorage, where snow has been left on the streets for the sleds, and travel across town to Campbell Tract, where the Bureau of Land Management (and my workplace) is located. Campbell Tract is home to a gravel airstrip that provides a good place to end the ceremonial start. As a maintenance worker at BLM, I was fortunate to help out – both with preparation and for the actual event.

A ceremonial musher who was the first to arrive - they were decked out as if they were from the olden days, using the dogs to carry a large load a long distance

During the winter, we packed the snow on the end of the airstrip where musher’s trucks congregate as teams load up their sleds and dogs after coming from downtown. Several days before the event, we cleared off the loose snow from the top, set up fencing to keep the public separated from the mushers, and made sure all parking areas and walkways were salted, spread with gravel, and safe as could be.

The ceremonial start draws a huge crowd, with most in downtown Anchrorage. However, we had upwards of 2000 people at the Bureau of Land Management to take in the action. The field of 69 mushers arrived, each spaced out a couple minutes from the next.

This year, the race drew competitors from all over the world – Norway, Australia, Jamaica, New Zealand. It’s fun to see the whole spectrum of mushers: some competing to to win, others just out for the experience, and others somewhere in between. Since the ceremonial start is after all ceremonial, the mood is light and festive.

Newton Marshall, a musher from Jamaica and crowd favorite!

After arriving, each musher directed his or her dogs to the teams’ truck where the dogs were fed, watered, and then loaded up to head off for the next day’s official start. Sled dogs are used to cold weather, and the high 30 degree temperatures we had were a far cry from their optimal operating temperature of around 0 degrees. As a result, many dogs were rubbing the heads and necks in the snow – trying to cool off after their brief trot.

Having a little meal before being loaded up in their kennels.

The dog water tank that it was my responsibility to clean out, fill up, and transport out to the airstrip

It was exciting to cross paths with the Iditarod race. It is the one time that the wider public has a chance to be up close to race, as most people can only follow the actual competition from afar. It really is one of the last “great races” – it is grueling, extreme, and of epic proportions.  But it also can bring out the best in people – mushers helping each other out on the trail or a small village coming together to support the racers at a checkpoint. In any case it has been a wonderful privilege to be in Alaska for the 2014 Iditarod Sled Dog race.