12-11-2011

The early winter has produced some pretty strong storms up here.  Usually, the strong storms appear in February-March.  We’ve had a couple already, including this weekend.  Our house is built on four-foot stilts so when the wind blows, our house rocks back and forth.  And not in a baby-in-a-cradle kind of way, more like a house rolling down a hill with lots of big rocks on it.  The house shakes violently when the big gusts hit, and shudders unevenly with the regular wind.

10ft snowdrift outside our front door.

Our village, Nunam Iqua, sits about one mile inland from the Bering Sea.  This allows us to enjoy the severe breezes the Arctic has to offer.  Earlier this week we had difficulties on the walk to work during a storm.  This storm brought about 5 inches of snow and 40 mph winds. The problem with the combination of wind and snow is that the snow does not spread evenly.  It piles in unfortunate places.  For example, right in the path I want to walk.  Some of the snowdrifts were taller than I am. The drifts we couldn’t conquer, we walked around.  Most times in ass-deep snow.  The land is flat, so we don’t have to worry about hills and the lake we walk on doesn’t collect drifts.  The lake we walk on is also frozen.    

After a storm, the path becomes much easier to walk on because people drive their snowmobiles on the path and pack the snow down.  The majority of the time, the walk to school is a pretty easy walk.  All of us have very good cold weather gear to wear, so the temperature really doesn’t affect us; it’s the wind that causes most problems.  But walking to school in a storm is pretty exhilarating.  And exhausting.

Now, I know that sounds like a lot of whining.  But it’s not whining.  The fact is I love the storms.  I love standing at the window, watching snow hurry past at 40 mph.  I also love the fact that I’m holding a hot cup of coffee, wearing warm slippers, and have a furnace that works harder than a one-legged man at a Riverdance audition.  I love that only inches away, the storm is raging. Yet where I stand I’m comfortable and untouched by Mother Nature.  When I was in the Navy, I felt the same way about being on the submarine: at 800 ft under the surface of the ocean, I was dry and breathing mostly clean air.  Well, filtered.  Actually it was nasty, but the fact that I was breathing was a huge comfort to me.  It’s also like standing two feet from the pit-bull who’s at the end of his chain, exhorting all of his energy to break free and eat my liver.  I’m not really sure why I enjoy endangering my life by trusting that things don’t break.  I do realize the fragility of what is involved because there is no way I could ever bungee jump. 

I’ll continue to watch the storm from the comfort of my living room.  I may have to transport a teacher to the airstrip tomorrow, but the worst the storm has to offer should have passed.  I will also rethink the logic of taunting a dog on a tether.   Which shouldn’t take very long since there is no logic in that activity.