Matt and I just experienced our very first earthquake! Whoa! It, apparently, was a 5.4. All pets and belongings are perfectly fine. The house (and Matt's workplace) just shook a bit. Nothing really earthshaking . . . oh, I guess it was!
Here's the news article: http://www.adn.com/news/environment/earthquakes/story/839501.html
It felt . . . wobbly. Nothing rattled or anything, just sorta trembled and didn't feel right.
Monday, June 22, 2009
Sunday, June 21, 2009
Platinum
Here are some pictures from my trip to Platinum. I'm going back there this week and I hope the weather is just as nice. There's a bear in one of these pictures...can anyone spot it? First person to post a comment on where the bear is gets a free bear bell and sleep mask when they visit. The pictures shown here are: aerial of marshlands north of Goodnews Bay, aerial of boat on Goodnews Bay east towards the mountains, aerial of City of Platinum (pop. of ~60) with Goodnews Bay behind taken from over the Bering Sea, and on the beach at midnight looking at the Bering Sea.
Little Bits
Matt and I are both a little under the weather, so we've not really been up to too much, but here's a sampling of what we've been up to (ok--honestly, it's all we've been up to!!).
Yesterday we drove up the valley to Wasilla--hometown of our awesome Governor. The objective?? We're attempting to get our guest bed together for all of the visits we're expecting from y'all, and had found a bed frame on craigslit! The drive took about 1 hour, and it was sensationally beautiful. The landscape is a pure, vibrant green that just goes on and on and only stops at the sheer mountains. There are these gorgeous birch trees everywhere--it's the predominant tree around here--and wildflowers dot the undergrowth with vivid color. We drove over a tidal river that was just huge--much more of a river than what we have in Colorado. The water is a blue-green in the rivers, but in the tidal flats it's mostly grey--the color of the mud. It was a nice little opportunity to see a little bit more of the landscape around here.
Last weekend we took a walk along Ship Creek Trail--my neighbor Luis calls it the "12 million dollar trail" because that's how much the city spent to build it. It has this neat corkscrew bridge up and over the railroad, and starts basically at the bottom of the hill we live on. The trail was a strange mix of lush and lovely landscape and creek on one side, and train yards and commercial trucking, equipment, and junkyards on the other. The more I'm here the more I understand that, especially in Anchorage, that kind of contradiction embodies this place. The lovely hill we live on is bordered at it's base by the port operations of the city--so you look out over these huge gas/oil tanks and cranes and railroad cars to a lovely view of the cook inlet and the mountains beyond. The unbelievably clear blue-green waters of Ship Creek stood out the most to me, though. You can tell just by looking at them that they originated from a glacier.
Today we went to an art festival in the Alaska Botanical gardens here in Anchorage to hear Matt's supervisor, Debra, play cello in a string band she's in. The had all these local artist booths strung along the trails of the garden. Very neat, plus we got to figure out a few of the names of the flowers we've been seeing. At first I balked at the $5 entry fee, but later realized it was really a pretty good deal for music, art, and nature all mixed up in one. A few weeks ago we shelled out $15 each to see a Scottish pipe and drum recital in a local church--and this was equally enjoyable.
Yesterday we drove up the valley to Wasilla--hometown of our awesome Governor. The objective?? We're attempting to get our guest bed together for all of the visits we're expecting from y'all, and had found a bed frame on craigslit! The drive took about 1 hour, and it was sensationally beautiful. The landscape is a pure, vibrant green that just goes on and on and only stops at the sheer mountains. There are these gorgeous birch trees everywhere--it's the predominant tree around here--and wildflowers dot the undergrowth with vivid color. We drove over a tidal river that was just huge--much more of a river than what we have in Colorado. The water is a blue-green in the rivers, but in the tidal flats it's mostly grey--the color of the mud. It was a nice little opportunity to see a little bit more of the landscape around here.
Last weekend we took a walk along Ship Creek Trail--my neighbor Luis calls it the "12 million dollar trail" because that's how much the city spent to build it. It has this neat corkscrew bridge up and over the railroad, and starts basically at the bottom of the hill we live on. The trail was a strange mix of lush and lovely landscape and creek on one side, and train yards and commercial trucking, equipment, and junkyards on the other. The more I'm here the more I understand that, especially in Anchorage, that kind of contradiction embodies this place. The lovely hill we live on is bordered at it's base by the port operations of the city--so you look out over these huge gas/oil tanks and cranes and railroad cars to a lovely view of the cook inlet and the mountains beyond. The unbelievably clear blue-green waters of Ship Creek stood out the most to me, though. You can tell just by looking at them that they originated from a glacier.
Today we went to an art festival in the Alaska Botanical gardens here in Anchorage to hear Matt's supervisor, Debra, play cello in a string band she's in. The had all these local artist booths strung along the trails of the garden. Very neat, plus we got to figure out a few of the names of the flowers we've been seeing. At first I balked at the $5 entry fee, but later realized it was really a pretty good deal for music, art, and nature all mixed up in one. A few weeks ago we shelled out $15 each to see a Scottish pipe and drum recital in a local church--and this was equally enjoyable.
Monday, June 8, 2009
Spring (I think) in Alaska
So now that I've been here a whopping two weeks, I think I'm sort-of getting the feel for the weather this time of year. I'd looked at climate graphs for the Anchorage area, and it looked like the highs would be around 80 degrees F in the summer. Well, I'm not so sure it's actually ever going to get that hot. The weather reporters get super excited when they can report highs in the upper 60's, and since I've been here the hottest it's been is 75--and that's in the middle of a parking lot on the clearest sunny day. I don't think I'm going to ever need shorts up here. There is quite a bit of rain and clouds in this area, and it's usually hazy. We are in easy sighting distance of Denali--but I've only been able to actually see it one of the days I've been here because the haze affects visibility so much. There is a whole range of mountains across the inlet that I didn't even know existed until we had a lovely clear day last week, and they just emerged as if from a mist. 31 years of arid, clear, thin Colorado air, and I think that's what the whole world lives in. That'll show me.
Today on Jack and my walk around our neighborhood I noticed the lilacs are finally budding. I think they'll probably be beginning to bloom by the end of the week. I've decided that the Anchorage's "summer" is really a spring. I'll let you know if later I decide to change that designation, but for now I think it fits. We have a whole two more months of this lovely weather!
Sunday Matt, Jack, and I went to Kinkaid park. It's a huge park right on the coast; they have miles and miles of trails, and it actually serves as the Olympic training center for cross country skiing in the winter. They also have a disc golf course! Matt and I spent the afternoon experiencing our first Alaskan course. Wow. There are these sheer drop offs just filled with trees and underbrush. There must be whole villages of lost discs just waiting for winter when they can again show their garish colors. One of the players in the group ahead of us actually carried a machete (I suppose to whack at undergrowth to find lost disks). We played it safe and managed to hold on to all our discs, but what a neat course. The park is lush to bursting right now, with an abundance of bright fuchsia wild roses and mountain bluebells. Lovely. We also hiked down to the beach. The tide was out, so there was at least a mile of mud flats instead of ocean. I'm looking forward to going back when the tide is in to see exactly how cold that water is.
Matt's also been assigned some more villages at work! Last week he traveled to Emmonak again because their annual flood was worse than usual. FEMA was there, and Matt went out to help document and report on the flood damage to their sanitary systems. This week he will be going to a new village: Platinum. It's on Goodnews bay. He's also been assigned a village called Gambell--it's WAY out on an island on the bering sea, within sight of Russia. It's so far West it might be East! Here's a map so you get a feel for the distances Matt will be traveling (if you click on the blue markers it'll tell you what it's supposed to be pointing out):
View Platinum in a larger map
Today on Jack and my walk around our neighborhood I noticed the lilacs are finally budding. I think they'll probably be beginning to bloom by the end of the week. I've decided that the Anchorage's "summer" is really a spring. I'll let you know if later I decide to change that designation, but for now I think it fits. We have a whole two more months of this lovely weather!
Sunday Matt, Jack, and I went to Kinkaid park. It's a huge park right on the coast; they have miles and miles of trails, and it actually serves as the Olympic training center for cross country skiing in the winter. They also have a disc golf course! Matt and I spent the afternoon experiencing our first Alaskan course. Wow. There are these sheer drop offs just filled with trees and underbrush. There must be whole villages of lost discs just waiting for winter when they can again show their garish colors. One of the players in the group ahead of us actually carried a machete (I suppose to whack at undergrowth to find lost disks). We played it safe and managed to hold on to all our discs, but what a neat course. The park is lush to bursting right now, with an abundance of bright fuchsia wild roses and mountain bluebells. Lovely. We also hiked down to the beach. The tide was out, so there was at least a mile of mud flats instead of ocean. I'm looking forward to going back when the tide is in to see exactly how cold that water is.
Matt's also been assigned some more villages at work! Last week he traveled to Emmonak again because their annual flood was worse than usual. FEMA was there, and Matt went out to help document and report on the flood damage to their sanitary systems. This week he will be going to a new village: Platinum. It's on Goodnews bay. He's also been assigned a village called Gambell--it's WAY out on an island on the bering sea, within sight of Russia. It's so far West it might be East! Here's a map so you get a feel for the distances Matt will be traveling (if you click on the blue markers it'll tell you what it's supposed to be pointing out):
View Platinum in a larger map
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
Adventures of Jen
Today has been overcast and about 60 degrees F. It kept wanting to rain, but not quite having the guts. This morning I set off for my run with Jack, expecting greatness due to the sea level altitude (not attitude) I've recently found myself in. I jogged at my gentle pace and made it all the way to the park across the street before I had to stop to catch my breath. Progress, yes, but not necessarily greatness. After starting off again I was able to make it about 4 more blocks before my heavily congested lungs decided they needed another break. I kept up this break-neck pace for about 15 more minutes before returning to the house, actually proud of myself for "exercising." That's when the fun began.
The sky was spitting just a little, and the mosquitoes were hovering voraciously, and I was thinking, "thank goodness I'm home!" I turned the knob of my front door to discover . . . it was locked! Fine if I'd brought the key, but I hadn't. So I paced a little, and tried to climb up to my front porch where, of course, I had actually left the door unlocked. No dice. I used to climb when I was younger, but those days are long over. In my classroom, whenever I can't reach something, I call for my monstrously tall student, Trent, who gladly helps us short people of the world (especially if he gets to make fun of us), but there was no way he could answer my call today! At this point I realize, of course, that my phone is nice and warm inside, so I can't call Matt. My landlady Joy, who only lives down the block, is on a road trip with her daughter for the next few weeks. She can't save me either. I pace some more, and decide I'm going to have to walk to Matt's work. It's only about 2 miles away, but he's the only person I know here who can help me! He's basically the only person I know here at all.
Just at that moment a truck pulls into our driveway. I'm thinking, "no way! A savior!" It turns out to be my land lady's daughter in-law, Kelly. She calls Joy and goes to get the spare key. While I'm waiting for her my neighbor comes over to mow our lawn. I'm a little surprised to see him, but I figure at least I don't have to mow it! I also hope he hasn't seen me lamely trying to climb the balcony and failing. He stops mowing to introduce himself, despite the swarm of mosquitoes around his head. His name is Luis, and he has a son who lives in Colorado Springs. He offers a ladder or a phone if I need one.
Kelly returns, and of course the key doesn't work. She then goes up into the unit next door and climbs over the connected balcony to our unit and tries a key on the back door. No luck. She comes back down and offers to go look again for the right spare key, but I tell here Luis has offered me a ladder so I can climb up to my balcony and get in. She replies, "Oh! I have a ladder!" And proceeds to extract the longest (thank goodness) ladder I've seen in a long long while. I help her maneuver it, and it's almost as easy as trying to walk a cat. Kelly, Luis, and I get the ladder up against my porch and I climb up. As I walk across the porch I hold my breath just hoping the door won't be locked up here too. I turn the handle, and hooray! I have access to my warm, lovely home.
I come back down through the front door to help Kelly maneuver the ladder back into place, and thank her profusely. She mentions that if I need anything else while Joy's away she's lives just down the street.
So I made an idiot of myself, and met two helpful friends while doing it. Aren't I lucky?
It's now drizzling slowly here and reminding me very much of Oregon: so green and wet. I know most days will be overcast like this here, but I'm hoping the sun comes out tomorrow anyway.
The sky was spitting just a little, and the mosquitoes were hovering voraciously, and I was thinking, "thank goodness I'm home!" I turned the knob of my front door to discover . . . it was locked! Fine if I'd brought the key, but I hadn't. So I paced a little, and tried to climb up to my front porch where, of course, I had actually left the door unlocked. No dice. I used to climb when I was younger, but those days are long over. In my classroom, whenever I can't reach something, I call for my monstrously tall student, Trent, who gladly helps us short people of the world (especially if he gets to make fun of us), but there was no way he could answer my call today! At this point I realize, of course, that my phone is nice and warm inside, so I can't call Matt. My landlady Joy, who only lives down the block, is on a road trip with her daughter for the next few weeks. She can't save me either. I pace some more, and decide I'm going to have to walk to Matt's work. It's only about 2 miles away, but he's the only person I know here who can help me! He's basically the only person I know here at all.
Just at that moment a truck pulls into our driveway. I'm thinking, "no way! A savior!" It turns out to be my land lady's daughter in-law, Kelly. She calls Joy and goes to get the spare key. While I'm waiting for her my neighbor comes over to mow our lawn. I'm a little surprised to see him, but I figure at least I don't have to mow it! I also hope he hasn't seen me lamely trying to climb the balcony and failing. He stops mowing to introduce himself, despite the swarm of mosquitoes around his head. His name is Luis, and he has a son who lives in Colorado Springs. He offers a ladder or a phone if I need one.
Kelly returns, and of course the key doesn't work. She then goes up into the unit next door and climbs over the connected balcony to our unit and tries a key on the back door. No luck. She comes back down and offers to go look again for the right spare key, but I tell here Luis has offered me a ladder so I can climb up to my balcony and get in. She replies, "Oh! I have a ladder!" And proceeds to extract the longest (thank goodness) ladder I've seen in a long long while. I help her maneuver it, and it's almost as easy as trying to walk a cat. Kelly, Luis, and I get the ladder up against my porch and I climb up. As I walk across the porch I hold my breath just hoping the door won't be locked up here too. I turn the handle, and hooray! I have access to my warm, lovely home.
I come back down through the front door to help Kelly maneuver the ladder back into place, and thank her profusely. She mentions that if I need anything else while Joy's away she's lives just down the street.
So I made an idiot of myself, and met two helpful friends while doing it. Aren't I lucky?
It's now drizzling slowly here and reminding me very much of Oregon: so green and wet. I know most days will be overcast like this here, but I'm hoping the sun comes out tomorrow anyway.
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
Arrival
I had a lovely window seat on the flight up here. And though you may think that's inconsequential for a 1 am landing, it was breathtaking. The sun was going down--the horizon bright rosy pink--and in the dusk I could see the lovely mountains, snow, and ocean that are Alaska. Welcome to your new home!
At home Matt introduced me to this awesome sleeping mask, that I just felt I had to share with you all. Matt said, "you're weird" when I showed him the picture, but we all know that already, right? This is going to be my good pal for the next three months. It's definitely a different experience knowing I don't have to worry about the daylight for the time being. We could eat dinner at 9:00 pm outside and still have plenty of light. Today at 7 am it was about 60 degrees, but by 1 pm it was a beautiful 70. I sat on the porch and read with the animal menagerie in the gorgeous sun, and actually got so hot I had to go inside. The sky is lovely blue, the trees are lush and green, and as an extra treat the tree across the street is even in bloom.
I have to keep reminding myself I am at sea level--those majestic mountains that surround me make it easy for me to think I'm in familiar Colorado mile-high territory. Every time I boil water I remember though--and I keep trying to figure out if it will take more or less time to boil me egg (sorry Mrs. Jackson--I know you taught me this, but my reason and knowledge escapes me!). I'm going to go running with Jack tomorrow and then let myself think I'm the bomb because I can run so far all of the sudden.
More than anything I am glad to be back with Matt--which is more than ever clearly right where I should be. We function so much better as a unit that apart. It's so nice to be able to share the same space with him again, and have his presence as book ends to my days. And that, truly, is home.
Friday, May 22, 2009
It's Jen's Turn Now!
So I finally get to take the leap. I leave Colorado in four more days to join Matt--and I can't wait! The trucking company came to pick up our car today, and it finally felt real. I'm moving to Alaska! I'm excited to see the northern lights, I want to see the belugas in Cook Inlet, I can't wait to experience my first midnight sun, and I want to hike, run, snowshoe, and ski my uhhhhhhh . . . . . thighs off. I'm really looking to experiencing this unique place with Matt.
Matt says the sun is now setting at about 11 pm and rising just before 5 am. I (and the two cats) will arrive (if all goes as planned) at 1 am in Anchorage on Memorial Day. That means the sun will rise only 4 hours after I arrive! He also says the sun has been shining every day, but that the air is still crisp. No sweltering Colorado summer for us! I'm looking forward to standing on our porch with him, and . . . I was going to say watch a sunset, but it's more likely we'll see our neighbor pee in his yard because the sun is setting so late.
It's definitely been a move with many stages, after it's all said and done it will have taken about seven weeks total to get everything and everybody up there. It'll be nice to finally be an official resident of Alaska! Now if I could just get that job . . .
Matt says the sun is now setting at about 11 pm and rising just before 5 am. I (and the two cats) will arrive (if all goes as planned) at 1 am in Anchorage on Memorial Day. That means the sun will rise only 4 hours after I arrive! He also says the sun has been shining every day, but that the air is still crisp. No sweltering Colorado summer for us! I'm looking forward to standing on our porch with him, and . . . I was going to say watch a sunset, but it's more likely we'll see our neighbor pee in his yard because the sun is setting so late.
It's definitely been a move with many stages, after it's all said and done it will have taken about seven weeks total to get everything and everybody up there. It'll be nice to finally be an official resident of Alaska! Now if I could just get that job . . .
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