I drove out last weekend to catch the sunrise. Our January was full of crisp, clear days with many blue skies and temps ranging from 34°F to -24°F!
We’ve had our share of brisk winds in January, dropping the temp much further than the thermometer shows. This last Saturday I drove to the “end of the road maintenance” sign, sat there for a while and ventured about a mile beyond to a high point of the Nome-Council road. The gravel road’s snow cover has been packed down to a width of 1.5lanes, just enough to comfortably trek out and not panic if a vehicle came at you from the opposite direction.
I hopped out of my 4Runner and regretted my “high point” location decision, as the wind-chill was far greater than the area closer to the beach. I covered every inch of me with multiple layers, but sadly still had to remove my gloves to set up my camera and tripod.
🥶
Top: Cabin at Fort Davis area, frozen Bering Sea beyond
Bottom: Sledge Island in the distance, cabins “camp” in the middle.
I stood in the middle of the empty road, checking every couple minutes for vehicles that never came. Saturday mornings in Nome are usually pretty quiet. I watched the sun rise above the frozen Bering Sea, casting long rays of warm light over frigid tundra. When I could no longer feel my fingers or my face, I packed up and climbed back into the Toyota, heading for home.
I passed almost a dozen snowmachiners on my way back into town, some with guns slung on their backs/fronts, some with passengers, some with cargo sleds. I passed a gang of trash-ravens flying to find their morning spoils (we’ve been having some refuse-removal delays the last month or so). I passed two fat-bikers, (not fat bikers) and a gutsy runner in the negative temps.
Nome winters are not for the faint-of-heart, but the adventurer in me loves the seasonal changes and “only in Nome” moments that always occur. Yesterday my coworker and I had to rally up a bank of a main road because the two closest access streets were completely drifted close, with stuck vehicles in the middle. The drift on one was +6 feet high!
Whenever I speak with lower-48 folks about Alaska and they mention the “6 months of dark,” it’s hard to explain the interesting phenomenon that is “losing and gaining daylight” to the extreme that Alaska sees. I always rejoice when I can finally get off work and the sun has not yet set. It’s even more a blessing when I can drive to work in daylight. 🙂
Today our outpatient clinic was closed thanks to a huge windstorm regularly gusting to 50mph that has also knocked out our internet and created more huge drifts. So I snuggled up on the couch with books and cups of coffee, looking forward to more sunny days and upcoming opportunities to be out and about in it.