Democracy alive in Fairbanks, Alaska

A rally for Governor Palin took place tonight at the airport in Fairbanks, as she returned to Alaska for the first time since becoming the GOP’s vice presidential nominee. While CNN and the Daily News Miner focused mainly on the republican welcomers gathered on the tarmac, there were many Alaskans outside the rally who shared a very different sentiment.

Pincher bug admission

To the very tall man who operates the kettle corn machine at the Tanana Valley Farmer’s Market and last Wednesday paid a kid in popcorn to assassinate at least thirty-three of the seemingly unaware wood-boring beetles as they attempted to fly into his large hot black kettle: I was wrong. They have been known to bite.

Passed the test

Photo by
Eric Engman, Fairbanks Daily News Miner

Of course, the fact that at mile two, prior to peeing in the woods, I accidentally jumped into a spruce bog and immediately soaked both of my feet didn’t help to contribute positively in any way to my Two-Way Torture experience. And the continuous hill from mile three to mile six didn’t really help either. Nor did the fact that there were only two water stations during the entire 13.1 mile run. Or that the direction I was going around the Chena Ridge meant running on the sunny and hot side of the road most of the the time.

But what did help is the hill work I’d done prior to the race. It made the three-mile hill very feasible and I motored up with focus and a steady pace. I also brought my own water with me so I stayed hydrated. And I started slow, like a tortoise, so that by mile eleven I was basically on fire. And at the end, since he finished 15 minutes before me, my partner joined me for the last 1/2 mile of my race. That really helped. Of course, the best part was when it was done!

So I have earned the right to tell everyone that I passed the Two-Way Torture Test. And now that it’s over I can say that I would definitely do that again, minus the spruce bog. And while I accomplished my goal of finishing in under two hours, I can still walk today. That’s always a plus.

Two-way torture in Fairbanks

The Two-Way Torture Test. Why would anyone want to put themselves through the pain of running a total of 13.1 miles, beginning with a huge uphill climb followed by a bumpy ridge line trek with more hills, then culminating in a lengthy downhill section on pavement? I’m about to find out.

Look up and see the wild world

There is something profound about witnessing hundreds of birds flying together in migration, each carrying on their wings the intention of coming home. Such a site fills my heart deep down with an odd combination of joy, longing and sadness. It makes me forget about any trivial to-dos or lingering regrets. A flock like that brings me right into the present.

At dusk tonight I pulled into my driveway, freshly defeated after a soccer loss and for various reasons, missing my dad. He’s been gone now for almost a year. I was wishing I could just have a conversation with him, like we typically did on weekends. I stopped daydreaming and stepped out of my truck, startled by the sounds of geese above my head. I looked up to see droves and droves of Canadians, on the final approach of another spring migration. They were making a bee-line for their summer stop at Creamer’s Field.

The graceful flapping of their wings coupled with their gawky voices made me stop for several minutes in awe. And they were so animated in their calls that I wondered what it was they were saying to each other. Or maybe they were simply calling out in pure unabashed glee, the way that any being would who’d just completed a nearly three thousand mile journey with just their body as the vehicle.

Dad once wrote in a bird book that he gave me for my birthday, “There is so much good in the wild world, I hope that you find it all.” I think of those words tonight and am reminded why it is such a gift to live in Alaska. The wild world’s goodness is easy to find. Sometimes it’s as simple as just standing in one place and looking up.

Waiting for the fourth spring

If the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result each time, then around here we have all pretty much flown the coop. This craze is mainly due to weather. Spring has shown up three times in the past month, stayed for about a week and then been blasted out each time by a stubborn snow that just doesn’t want to stop. And this whole cycle is simply cuckoo.

During these consecutive springs, the temperature melts most of the snow, and stays just long enough to turn my driveway into muddy ruts. I packed up my skis up a few springs ago, putting them in the basement until next season. Coupled with the little sprouts of green grass that appeared beneath my lilac tree, these were all welcome signs. They show that we’ve made it through another winter and so the expectation is that, naturally, summer should soon take over in full force. But then it snows again, and everyone’s spring fever plummets.

So we are left to play a game of make believe for a few more weeks, or a few more days. Who really knows. We bide our time, waiting for spring to finally get so sick of snow that she kicks him out for good, like a bad boyfriend. Then we can finally wash our mud-crusted trucks, revel in the seemingly mundane chore of raking last fall’s dead leaves, and wear shorts beyond the confines of the gym.

While waiting for the real spring to come out, come out, wherever you are, I scoured the blogosphere to see how others could inspire Fairbanksans through this borderline seasonal disruption. Undoubtedly, this path turned to a theme of food. Maybe that’s because I haven’t eaten breakfast yet this morning and I’m really hungry. Regardless, there is something comforting about a big bowl of pasta during trying times.

Until summer restores our sanity, Food and Paper suggests making a batch of tagliatelle with chive oil and cremini mushrooms. Perky Rachel Ray recommends her spring pea-sto with whole wheat penne pasta. The Wednesday Chef actually draws her food, as in her spring fever risotto. Finally, Luisa Weiss makes a list of things to eat, drink, learn, plant or pick before you go. I find this activity rather hopeful. It suggests that there is something beyond the dingy gray slush of yet another break up. I think my list might be called To Do, To See, Before I Go. Certainly in response to the bleak snow-covered affect found in my present location, it could start out like this:

1. Bake a chocolate torte.
2. Sip malbec while staying at Bodega Salentein.
3. Eat more vegetables from the farmer’s market
4. Learn Spanish.
5. Walk in the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge.
6. Run a marathon.
7. Eat chocolate in Belgium.
8. See Jack Johnson in concert.
9. Bone fish in the Bahamas.
10. Sleep over the water in Bora Bora.

A lunch rush

Cross-country skiing is a popular pastime among many Fairbanks residents, and eleven inches of snow during the first half of April (local average is 1.7 inches) created a perfect white canvas for skiers. This post includes my first Soundslides presentation and features a spring skate skier who often spends his lunch break gliding around the University of Alaska Fairbanks’ West Ridge trail system.

Up a river with a paddle and some swans

For your information, interior Alaska’s Clearwater Lake is ready for paddlers. I know this because Saturday I was part of a friendly flotilla—four boats, eight humans and one dog—that put in at the Clearwater River just below the campground, then paddled approximately five hours down the meandering river and onto a small section of the Tanana, where we took a sharp turn at a sign with an arrow pointing left and the word “Lake.”

At this point we were forced to paddle like escapees from Alcatraz, working our way up through a rapid current, that eventually led us to Clearwater Lake. Here we used the bows of our canoes to crunch a jangled path through approximately 100 feet of relatively thin ice that sat between the middle of the lake and the far shoreline, where we would soon disembark.

And when we chanced upon the lake for the first time, we were greeted by two enormous swans, trumpeter or tundra varieties and certainly mates for life, who I swear cackled over and over again, “It’s spring! It’s spring! It’s spring!” And they were absolutely right.

About forty of their swan friends and double the number of Canadian goose socialites lingered atop the remaining ice shelf that lined the shore of the lake. A harlequin couple, overdressed as usual, were the wallflowers of the bunch, loitering along the edge of the affair. Regardless, it seemed we had caught them all in the middle of a somewhat segregated cocktail party, with swans on the left and Canadians on the right. All were reconnoitering, reflecting on this year’s long journey north. And behind this gaggle, two lackadaisical moose stood on the shore, silently munching on willows, and paying no attention to this energetic flock. Surely they’d seen this all before, spring after spring after spring.

If you’ve never heard a couple of swans on take-off, they’re the bird world’s version of a 747, and if they’re ascending from a lake, their gigantic wings beat against the water, the tips especially slapping against the surface, until just airborne enough to be free. Amidst the grace of their flight, a subtle downward motion juts down awkwardly from their lower neckline with each wing flap. This balances out the downward thrust of their giant wings, and makes it possible at the same time for their elegant heads to surge forward with each flap, as if they were each their own winged victory of Samothrace.

In addition to this live rendition of Winged Migration, one of the day’s highlights took place after we stopped along a bank on the Tanana and had lunch. Here we all fell asleep in the sun. It was a rare kind of warm, unbothered sleep where one immediately goes to a heavy, relaxing place of pure dreamy content. I could have happily stayed here for a few hours, but our crew’s squirrel hunter and canine alarm clock, woke us all up with a raucous in the woods, and as the squirrel chattered away for dear life and the bad dog was scolded, we all came to and knew that it was time to paddle along. This was okay though, because that cozy rest in the rays was just the glimpse I needed to know that summer’s incoming laze will surely usher in more of the same.

Remod Pod features laboring lovebirds

There is a couple I know who have been working diligently all winter to finish the lower level of their house. Often they work through their weekends and sometimes on weekday evenings, wiring pathways of electrical, framing walls of two by four studs, or sealing in the vapor barrier with something called “black death.” They have earned many bruises from wood gone awry or a hammer to the hip. There are days that their work requires they be covered with dust and have to wear masks to protect their lungs. Sometimes the tools they use are so loud that headphones are needed to save their hearing. They continue to plod away, nail by nail, piece by piece, with diligence, focus and always humor, thriving in the simple fact that their hard work is slowly creating a place to call their own.

Here is my first attempt at podcasting. This week The Remod Pod tells the story of a couple who are nearing the end of an addition project that has spanned the length of their relationship.

Team Soyuz united in victory

One reason I joined an intramural soccer team last month is related to my personal theory of survival of the fittest. In this theory the fittest are not super athlete-types, but those who are thriving in life, rather than simply existing. And as an experiment, this winter I made a pact with myself to try something new every week as part of my attempt at thriving.

So far this experiment has proven to be lots of fun, partly because my Sunday night soccer team is such a motley mix of heterogeneity. Primarily anthropologists, scientists and their cronies, Team Soyuz is sort of a modern-day sociological experiment, with men and women representing Austria, England, Germany, Greece, Kazakhstan and the United States, and everyone falling into a variety of age and skill levels. Overall, we are a lighthearted bunch, really more into the concept of community and camaraderie, than conquering. Regardless, this attitude seems to be paying off.

Since something I’ve never really tried to write about is sports, tonight I will attempt to briefly describe our recent victory. What follows is an example of me thriving, in the least literal sense, as a pretend sports writer. Here goes:

The international roster of Team Soyuz stood strong against the explosive GI’s, representing the Geophysical Institute, this Sunday evening at the University of Alaska Fairbanks Student Recreation Center. Despite the absence of their regular English goalie Martin, and last week’s MVP, Austrian Peter, Team Soyuz emerged triumphant.

Repeated attempts were made to impede Soyuz’ newest goalkeeper, but American Faye was not to be deterred. With the grace of a gazelle, she leaped and lunged, always to emerge clutching the ball. Her goal keeping was truly impressive. Then with three minutes remaining in the second half, Soyuz rallied yet again, after one of their superstar forwards, American Kevin, was relegated to the sidelines due to a sudden knee injury, brought on after a collision with an opponent. The team remained undaunted, including impressive performances by German Franz and Greek Andreas, both playing sans spectacles. Team Soyuz rebuked the GI’s with a final score of 1-0.