When we considered how/where we should watch sixteen turn into seventeen, we had a vision of relaxing in a hot spring underneath the shimmering curtains of an aurora borealis above us. This vision had the added benefit of adding a new state to our "go to all fifty states" goal which was all we needed to motivate us to buy tickets to fly to Fairbanks at the end of December. We convinced a friend to join us and just like the years before it, plans that seemed so far off became very present indeed and we boarded our flight for points very far north. The view below was from a window of the airport in Anchorage as we waited for the littler plane that would take us to Fairbanks.
That friend (Stacy), down there with M as she takes a brief breath before diving right back into rapid fire conversation as we waited for said lil northbound plane. I wonder where the gentleman behind them two ladies was headed in shorts and beachwear. Probably not in the same direction as us?
Honoring natives, tasting the feeling at the above mentioned airport
Rode the people mover back and forth, peering out at the frozen world outside, inside our warmth pod. Considering what exactly we were getting ourselves into, as the connection time dragged on further into the night/early morning.
At long last, the time came for us to snow tarmac-hike our way to our waiting lane that would take us the rest of the way into the Alaskan interior
It will be ok. It will be ok? It will be ok.
When we landed in Fairbanks, A large snow storm had just dumped a few feet of snow, enough snow to make the people we initially rented a car from not let us drive the car off the lot. "You won't make it out of the parking lot" they said. So, we took our freedom to spend elsewhere. Long story short, we ended up with a better car for a bit less money, hence the snowy excitement pictured below by two thirds of our Alaska crew. Also, although it looks like two or three in the morning in the photo below, it was eight in the morning, maybe later. The joys of the wintertime in the far north
Our 47th state. Somehow we made it to Alaska (in the middle of winter) before we'd been to Hawaii or Connecticut or North Dakota (our three remaining states after this trip)
Despite car rental dood's warnings, we made it out of the parking lot just fine and found our way into the city via snow tunnels and quiet streets that felt straight out of a Guy Maddin movie.
Softened shapes into an abstract pattern
We arrived at our first stop for the trip. This lovely Co-op
Yes, this one. We arrived in the daytime nightime to stock up for further daytime nightimes to come
After our initial trip to the co-op, we toured some strip mall parking lots in search of bagel energy, which we found. Then we shoved off to find our cabin-home for the next few nights/days/daynights.
Said cabin was a thirty minute, or so, drive outside of Fairbanks. We were strategic about this cabin choice because seeing the auroras was one of the main reasons for the trip and we didn't want any light pollution to interfere. The drive out to our cabin went right through North Pole, Alaska. Naturally, Santa's workshop was in North Pole and naturally, we stopped to investigate.
The rest of Santa's workshop is not worth mentioning, for it was disappointingly similar to various other shop zones you could find anywhere, but the wall of letters to Santa on display there was incredible. The letters pictured below represent only a tiny fraction of the letters they had on display. The magic of the postal service/physical correspondence stopped us in our tracks.
Indeed, that letter wall was the best part of the entire Santa's workshop industrial complex, aside from this large, nipple-button Santa pictured below.
Another angle, with M for scale. The sun had begun its slow descent, after giving us its ample three and a half hours of sunlight.
We had daylight enough to spot the lil tamale shack below, just outside of one of the last B'busters in existence. We poked our heads inside out of curiosity to find that it was, indeed, still functioning. Something having to do with the cost of the internet/crappy streaming that most of the Alaskan interior keeps that vestige of physical media rental going. The consolidation of media companies plus the narrowing of options they have on offer is all something to keep in mind as we place more and more trust in the internet and the growing digital void it represents.
Still en route to our place, we came upon this dodgy taxidermy scene inside the "Knotty Shop"
Probably not ok
Makes sense to follow it with this scene, 'merica bursting forth from an antler
Walrus tusks. Couldn't quite afford 'em, unfortunately
The burls/knots from which it all took its name
Twas a burl-splosion out there
At long last, in the waning daylight of our first day in that final frontier, we arrived out our cabin. As soon as we set foot in the place, we knew we'd made the right decision as we felt the Radiant floor heating, which was new to all of us.
Like a dog circling its bed before it lays down for the night, I walked 'round it acquainting myself in the sub-zero temps.
We didn't have to get up very early for sunrise the next morning
(hashflag)teamsak? TM S AK
This colorful hut was merely a welcome addition for a stop at
a fireworks stand. Santa's firework stand. Its a f-works bonanza up there during the wintertime, specifically around new years. They would not really be visible during the summer, given the midnight sun. Thus, we loaded up on powerful explosives to blow one year into the next
After our fireworks stop on the way back into town, we decided to spend the rest of the last day of 2016 at the Museum Of The North
Where we were first greeted by Otto the bear
Subsequently by the piece below. Native aesthetics=superior
Athabaskan has a large range of influence, apparently. It most definitely extends into Canada, but such is the insanity of borders. Also, Alaska is huge
Ol'tusk expanse
A handsy mask to consider
And a wall-focused skeletal system, given up the ghost
Me and some deep history
Blue babe!
Its hard to take photos of it through glass, at least for an absolute photo-dunce such as I
Rendered expressions/portals to the spirit world
Mammoth skin suit sag
and a lovely walrus presentation to behold
For us, though, The Place Where You Go To Listen was the main draw to that museum. We'd first heard of the place in the early years of Elkins world, via one of the subjects of his first documentary, John Luther Adams, who is the artist behind that installation. The idea is to have a place where the Auroras are translated into sound in real time
Alas, it was out of order during our visit. After checking in with Steve, he said that it is often out of order. Who knew that translating Auroras into sound would be so complicated/would be so prone to not working?
Antler fractal uppa wall
A picture of a picture of a reindeer circle pit
And then a two dimensional Otto peering out at us as we made our museum exit, bookending our experience in the museum quite nicely
Stomped some pathways outside the museum
for fun, I think
A weiner hop, phase one
and two, in the dying light of twenty sixteen. Also for fun
In their element, M and S gather bulk goods for the night of celebration. Co-op stop number two
Chopping away again in vegan-ville
Food styling to get ready for the obligatory food photo
Another one for the always growing Stacy archive of photos of food photos
With the least amount of skin exposed, we headed out for the night to celebrate the dawning of the new year. Hope in our hearts, fireworks in our hands (well, my hands at least)
We blew things up, then took not great photos of it
I light-saber'd the night sky
Then sent tubes of light/hope into the darkness
Double tube'd
Then we moved on to bigger 'splosions very unavailable for purchase in our usual desert/chapparal habitat. We would find out later, though, that Fairbanks resides in a desert region as well, albeit very different from the one which we all call home
Fifteen degrees?! So thats the warming trend all the locals were joking about. I was prepped for living sub-zero the whole time up there
Just a few moments into a new year. Still fairly warm (Apologies for the Chevy advertisement). Really sent our best thoughts and prayers up with the 'splosions for the new year, that the mistakes of the old one will be learned from.Also, as you could probably tell from the lack of hot springs under a curtain of shimmering curtain of auroras photos, we were not quite wable to make that specific vision for the new year happen. We did, however, see auroras that night, as sixteen turned to seventeen. It was the first of three nights in a row that we had aurora sightings. To continue in my absolute camera-dunce streak, I couldn't quite figure out how to take photos of them, the sightings from that night and the two after it will have to be relegated to the faulty mechanics of our memories (unless Stacy ever sends the ones she took out way).
There was a lot of vegan-worry about going on a dog sled ride on the first day of seventeen, as we had planned. The vegans among us desperately wanted to experience this traditional form of transportation of the arctic, though. We spoke with our cabin host about both our worries and desires and he gave us contact information for his friend who does sled rides in between sled races with his pack of dogs. Although we remained a bit suspicious about this arrangement with his friend, we gave him a call and were reassured enough to hand over some money for a few rides through a forest. Upon our arrival at his place, we surveyed the scene of excited pups and their boxy homes and pee soaked poles they were chained to and thought "maybe this is ok to support?"
We walked about pee-land, introducing ourselves to them all. As the owner of the pack readied the sled, they could sense the time to run drew ever nearer and a palpable sense of unease/excitement (I don't know, I'm not a dog psychologist) could be felt
Once the runners/pullers were chosen and clipped into formation, their excitement was overwhelming. Yelping frantically, jumping around, peeing a little, yelping and jumping and pulling some more.
Once we got into the sled and everything was ready, our driver let go of the brake and what was once a barely containable pupper excitement explosion became a very focused and quietly effecient machine. Astonishing transformation, really. We zipped through the forest on a path that the dogs seemed to know very well. I was pinned into the sled pretty tightly that first go-round, so I couldnt capture the beautiful sight of the dogs heads as they bounded through the forest. More to relegate to memory
Stacy and M rode round in the forest for a bit
Returning from my second go-round in the woods with a frozen face. Dogs yelping their excitement
Spikey ice beards not withstanding, these good boys wanted more
I think this was towards the end of "take the tourists through the forest" time.
Back at our cabin homestead, another incredible mid-day sunset
Plugged in the car most nights there, so as not to freeze the engine block
New Years Day treats, keeping traditions at a high latitude, as much as the co-op would let us, at least
We had our second night of Aurora viewing that evening, again not able to capture them with my digital external memory machine. Maybe some things shouldn't be captured in this way? Or, we should be ok when they are not (and by "we" I mean me).
Although we missed our chance to sit under auroras in a hot spring to welcome the new year, we were able to shake off the very expensive chains of a tour group out to Chena Hot Springs and drove our way out there at our own leisure. When we talked with the owner of the cabin about our dog sledding desires, our planned trip out to Chena was also brought up. When he learned that we had paid the full tour price to go out there, he was aghast. He said we could easily get our there in our car and that we should try and cancel our tour out there as soon as possible. We followed his direction on these matters and thanks to the snow storm that we flew out in, the road to Chena was temporarily closed on New Years Eve, thus allowing us an easy out. With recouped expenses, we set out for Chena Hot springs on the 2nd day of this brave new year.
The roadway before us. Easygoing, as promised.
About an hour and a half atop all that snow, we arrived at the gateway to Chena
and passed by the entrance to the ice sculpture museum. More on that later
First peak of the fog machine we'd soak in at our leisure later that day
Fair enough, but not nearly as much wallet-death as it would have been otherwise
Fog tunnel to an olympic sized swimming pool full of hot water from the bowels of the earth herself. Again, didn't get any photos of our soaking time there, but maybe one day we will get those as well from Stacy, who go-pro'd the whole experience.
One end of the springs, just imagine us slow walking through its depths, wet hair freezing when exposed and generally joyful over our life choices that led us to that point.
Content with our first soak, we found our way over to the ice sculpture museum
Blocks on the right, their final form on the left. Well, does water ever have a "final" form?
Ice xylophone. Icelophone. Quite fun to play
Ice boxed!
Looking like a preserved corpse. An Encino man, even
Adding to the collection of selfie stick photos
Had a great conversation with the bar tender below, as we sipped the gawd awful apple martinis he was slinging in those ice glasses pictured previously. As we sipped and bit off little chunks of our apple 'tini, he regaled us with stories. I like to think that he sensed a shared adventurous spirit in us, but he probably regales all comers with his large grab bag of stories. A fairly restless, itinerant, well traveled fellow, he had many stories to share. The one that stuck with us, even unto the present day, was him sharing about the time that he spent as a dishwasher at the south pole. This, dear reader, is one of the ways that things make it onto our "life list" and these are the reasons that list is ever-growing. Travel begets more travel.
On the way back to change for our second soak, we took a quick tour of the various facilities there in which the good people of Chena are striving to establish as much of a self-sustaining existence as possible. In that spirit, here are a few photos of their reindeer farm. Future meat!
And then, night was upon us, yet again
To continue in the Chena self-sustainability reportage, below is one of a few spaces there dedicated to growing veggies and whatnot year round. Upon our visit, the harvest here had been total.
We were lead through some spaces where the growing was happening, all with the power of a fake sun
The steady glow of earth-sustained energy
Walkway adjacent flop-joy
And the glow of the springs themselves. The night soak was magical, but again not one picture to share of it. We called it a night and drove back to our cabin with hearts full.
To complete our Fairbanks bingo card, we still needed to have a moose sighting. The morning of our second to last day, it happened. Magnificent beasts to behold, we crept down the road, gawking at this family of them that emerged from the trees
Another sunrise at that latitude
M transformed!
and then, we found an antler arch. The wonders never ceased
Unfortunately couldn't feast our eyes on those assets
But did find some art to consider nearby
Onward to Hoodoo brew!
Flag of the final frontier outside the brewhaus
And a skull(ish) formation awaiting us after the b'haus
Returned for the requisite postcard writing session (along with a book partially obscured to the left of the p'cards which portents a trip that followed very closley on the heels of this one. More on that soon). That evening was the final night of Aurora sightnings. Just imagine it!
The morning of our last day, more moose! Maybe it was the same family we'd seen the morning before, but who knows?
Seeing them emerge from the depths of snow and onto the road was a bit shocking because the fullness of their size was revealed. Absolutely massive animals, on those spindly looking legs
P'cards sent from the north pole!
Onward to Pioneer Park!
Then, we found a nature center/museum and found this fox frozen mid predation. The suspense was killing me (but never the bird under snow. Can't kill a dead one)
Absolute maniac docent, this was the least blurry photo I could take of the man. He was a flurry of activity and information
Well, this one was actually. He was explaining migratory bird patterns, I think. Mile a minute, that guy. He also spoke about why he moved to Fairbanks and it mostly had to do with Fairbanks technically being a desert. The clear skies deserts afford and therefore the many opportunities to see auroras drew him there. He Also lamented that climate change was bringing more precipitation to that zone, which brought more cloudy skies with it
Fairbanks airport still life to consider as we awaited our flight south
And here's an airport dead-life. The closest we got to the magnificent beast. Imagining being that close to the live version is a bit intimidating
Technically the final sunset of the trip. Our forty seventh state was all we could have hoped for (and so much more). Can't wait to return and explore more of that absolutely massive frontier.
The morning after we flew south from the snowy north, we got up pre-dawn and drove up the coast in order to experience first hand some of the insanity that is military bureaucracy. All of this was in service of getting out to San Nicolas Island. This fairly remote outpost of the Channel Islands is where the "lone woman of San Nicolas Island" lived for 18 years, the members of her tribe for thousands of years before that. Her story inspired the writing of "The Island Of The Blue Dolphins" hence that photo of the book on an Alaskan table along with all of those postcards, somewhere in the mess of photos and reminiscence above. We were quite excited at the chance to visit San Nicolas, because it is normally closed to all civilians due to it being a navy base. We could not bring a camera out there, and so here is some more reportage from T&M adventures sans photos (Aside from port Hueneme photo below)
Rather than a day by day summation of our time out there, sixty something miles offshore, I will provide random snippets of the four days we spent out there and that will have to suffice. The further we get away from that experience, the more details slip away. Taking photos often gets in the way of experiencing things fully, but allows us to reflect more fully on them later (or, makes it feels that way at least). This delicate balance of experience versus documentation has long been a part of our travel-life and not having the option of documenting our San Nicolas experience was freeing (after feeling very frustrating, of course). Now, the further we are removed from it, I've cycled back to regret/frustration at not having visual reminders of the time we spanned out there. Our group leader was able to take some photos, but they are currently in military approval hell (which, I suspect, they will be stuck in forever. I keep emailing our leader to see when the photos will be approved, but all to no avail). So, we flew out to the island. We planted a lot of native grasses in a drainage area that previous groups had ripped all of the ice plant out of. This area drained to the ocean and our goal was to create a purification plant, of sorts, that would slow down rain water draining to the ocean, cleaning it in the process and allowing it to sink down into aquafers of the island as well. Beyond that restorative goal of our time out there, we also experienced the imaginatively named "Nick Town" which is the only human settlement on the island. It was a sight to behold, a cluster of identical beige cement block buildings. Truly bizarre. We got to experience a movie at the movie theater in town (flip through a binder of movie titles, like hundreds of them, and then it will appear on the big screen. Magic). Our beige cement block theater companions had picked John Wick for that evening. We agreed that JW was the perfect movie to watch on a military base because of the murderous over-reactions with superior firepower displayed by our hero on the screen. Aside from plating grass and lurking in Nick Town, we got the chance to explore the rest of the island on a few of the evenings there. We spied on some elephant seals, who come to the island yearly from as a far away as Alaska (connections=yes!), to give birth on its beaches. We watched over them from a safe distance, listening to their symphony of farts and watched the occasional fights flare up among the males. We also got to road trip over to the other side of the island the last evening of our time there, in order to bear witness to the area termed "rock crusher." When I think back to our time out there, it is that trip and those sights at the western edge of that remote island that remain the most vibrant. Sand stone looking formations, but different, out there on that end of the island. A truly stunning display, with a violent ocean churning just below them. We couldn't help but be thankful that the island is so difficult to get to for civilians, because (we assumed) those delicate seeming formations out there would have been destroyed years ago. After our service/sightseeing came to an end out there sixty miles off shore, we flew back to the mainland and whiplashed ourselves back into the horrors of the work week.
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