Alaska - the Northern Lights

Part 7 of the Alaska Series.  Click here to start reading at Part 1: Above the Arctic Circle.

There's nothing quite like an alien-green sky to make you forget how cold Northern Alaska becomes once the summer sun finally relinquishes its grasp on the sky.  We didn't have too many opportunities to see the aurora borealis due to cloud cover, but camp guide Dan was happy to double as a 2am alarm clock if there was a chance of a clear sky.

The first night I saw the Lights, I was blissfully asleep, dreaming that Dan was talking to me, patiently calling my name.  Bubbling up from slumber, I realised with a start that he was outside our tent, trying to wake us.  I'd wanted to witness this phenomenon since the first time I'd heard of it and now was my chance.  I'm not sure if it was the excitement or that I was still half-asleep (or both!), but while I had enough presence of mind to pull on a warm coat, I completely forgot to put anything over the thermals on my legs or even socks and boots. 

Not that I noticed the below-freezing temperature; I was too busy looking up while trying to keep my mouth from opening in amazement.  After seeing glorious photos of a breathtaking array of colours, you might think that seeing a green-only display would be a letdown.  Not at all.  The Lights had a life of their own and sent pulsing bursts, jagged fingers and billowing curtains of light streaking across the starry skies.

HowStuffWorks explains what causes both the Northern Lights and the Southern Lights - which my mother watched as a child in New Zealand:  "The auroras, both surrounding the north magnetic pole (aurora borealis) and south magnetic pole (aurora australis) occur when highly charged electrons from the solar wind interact with elements in the earth's atmosphere."  Read more about the auroras, including an explanation of the different colours in this article.

Crawling back into bed, I realised just how silly I'd been, rushing out unprepared for the frigid night.  Even the super-toasty sleeping bag Cecil lent me didn't cut through the cold and it took two pairs of woolly socks, warm leggings over the thermals and woolly gloves before the warmth of the freshly-stoked fire seeped through and I finally stopped shivering enough to sleep.

The next time Dan woke us from our snug cocoons, I made sure to put on a coat, socks, boots and a good warm pair of pants over the thermals.  Even if it was only so that I could stay out longer.


Next up:  Here for the Hunt

A Winter to Remember

Atlanta most certainly has put on a show this winter.  The Snowpocalypse of two weeks ago (which I was lucky enough to avoid) had people stranded in cars, at their workplaces, or in various restaurants, shops and private homes that opened their doors to complete strangers in a true display of Southern hospitality.

Good folks all over town headed out to the highways with hot drinks and food for those who were stuck on the treacherously icy roads.  I've been known to mock Atlanta drivers on occasion, but what happened here last month was no laughing matter - it was downright dangerous.  Roads large and small all over the greater Atlanta metro area were clogged.

This week we were better prepared, if only because schools closed and many workplaces asked their employees to work from home.  A far cry from 30 January, when cars and trucks littered the highways, this time the city became an overgrown ghost town.  Traffic cameras that two weeks ago displayed the extent of the chaos in 10 minute updates, now showed the few who were venturing out into the frozen stillness.  Many areas experienced power outages which added insult to injury.

But not all was doom and gloom.  The kids on my street built snowmen - one with a hard hat and another with a pink bonnet.  Families spent time together making candles, playing games and enjoying time seldom spent together.

Yesterday morning, before the sun came out and the city began to thaw, I woke to a layer of snow-covered ice on the trees, with a bright red cardinal who hung around long enough for me to grab my camera.  Seeing him sitting there in the confusion of branches brought to mind the closing lines of a poem my Mum used to have hanging on the wall:

With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams,
it is still a beautiful world.
Be cheerful.
Strive to be happy.*

* From Max Ehrmann, Desiderata 1927.

Bow Hunting in Alaska

Part 6 of the Alaska Series.  Click here to start reading at Part 1: Above the Arctic Circle.

This is one of my most favourite memories of our trip to Alaska.  Father and son moose-hunting team The Petes (otherwise known as Big Pete and Little Pete), camp guides Dan, Cecil and Chris, and I were sitting in the cook tent after breakfast, playing Farkle.  If you've never played this game, you're missing out on a bunch of fun.  Especially using Cecil's rules, which state you have to score exactly 10,000 to win. 

Playing Farkle in the cook tent

After a couple of rounds of Farkle, Little Pete asked me if I'd be able to photograph him at target practice with his hunting bow.  He wanted a photo of the arrow right before it hit the target.  Welllllll I'm up for a challenge, so we headed out to the airstrip.

After a few warm-up shots, Pete declared he was ready.  First, however, we needed to figure out how I'd know when to start shooting, to catch the arrow in flight.  I suggested that I count down from three and then he'd let loose.  It went something like this:

Me:     "Okay ready?  Three -"
LP:     [lets arrow fly - it hits target with a resounding THUNK!]
Me:     "SERIOUSLY?"
LP:     "Shut up."

Chris and Cecil enjoying the fun

But Pete is pretty darn good with a bow and arrow, leaving me to be the one having difficulties timing the shot.  Even at a continuous four frames per second burst, the photo below is the closest I got the arrow to the target.  Not bad for a first time, though!

Straight and true

Pete got what he came to Alaska for - he nabbed a moose, using a bow and arrow.  Now that's a serious beastie and some major bow hunting skills.

Pete and his moose.  Photo used with permission.

Next up:  The Northern Lights

My Wish Came True

 

It's the little things in life that can really make your day.  My home town in New Zealand has a wonderful climate: lovely hot, dry summers, winters that are cold enough to kill the bugs off but very rarely below freezing.  I'd been in snow once, but had never actually seen it snow until I moved to the USA.  

Living in Georgia doesn't exactly offer up many opportunities for snow, but there have been some magical moments for me:  my first Christmas in the US was white (which finally made sense of all the snow-themed Christmas carols) and my husband and I woke on the first day of our honeymoon to a pretty covering of snow at our cabin in the North Georgia mountains.

I discovered that it can actually snow hard - I always thought it sort of floated down gently until I saw big, fat flakes barrelling down from the sky.  And I saw my own, personal warp speed special effect as I tipped my head back and stared up into the falling snow.  I've opened my mouth and stuck my tongue out to catch snowflakes and taste them and I've giggled helplessly while feeling the cold wet seep through as I lay on the ground to make snow angels.  

My manager at the first job I had here was appalled when he found out that I'd never been in a snow fight, so he took me outside and we proceeded to pummel each other and our coworkers with snowballs.  I've had a total of three snow fights in 18 years - which says more about Georgia snow than it does about me.

On Tuesday it snowed while I was working; processing photos and entering bills into the accounting software.  I looked out my window and saw the neighbour's kids lobbing snowballs at each other and all I could think of was Calvin & Hobbes.  Give me a sled, my stuffed Tigger toy (or in this case, Rocky Dog in the photo above) and I'm there.  Time to head for the hills.

Photography - A Gift from the Heart

HeartsApart is a non-profit organisation that aims to help ease the pain of separation when one member of the family is serving in the military.  Partnering with a force of volunteer photographers, HeartsApart provides military families with the gift of photography at a time when they're soon to be miles from each other.

It was my privilege to photograph this family not long before the husband deployed and to capture this time in their lives.  Daddy and daughter just love to read a book together - and what better place to do so than under a tree bathed in late afternoon light?!

Click to see their gallery on Facebook.

Here's a short video highlighting some of the moments from their family portrait session:

Alaska - Planes from the Inside World

Part 5 in the Alaska Series.  Click here to start at the very beginning - Part 1: Above the Arctic Circle.

I was going to call this post Planes from the Outside World, but then I realised you don't get any more outside than inside the Arctic Circle.  If you follow my drift.  Planes come from towns and cities where people tend to spend more time inside than outside.

The airstrip at camp - marked by moose antlers.

It's amazing how seemingly random sounds can provoke strong emotional responses from us.  I grew up in an area that was not quite urban, not quite country; lots of farmland and orchards around my home town.  So it was a fairly common occurrence to hear a prop-plane off in the distance, mostly crop-dusting but sometimes recreational.  So while I'm not the world's most enthusiastic flyer, the sound of a prop plane has a special place in my heart and brings back memories of hot summer days.  I even wrote a poem about it:

Tiger Moth

A distant plane drones
And memory strings
Stir in harmonic hum,
Long ago days and 
Slow summer haze.
Time was a cat
Stretching languidly
As we lay on our backs
On sun-warmed grass,
Cobalt sky reflected in 
Blackberry-flavoured lips.
We sweetened the hours
With lethargic dreams while 
Time mocked our laughter,
Slinking unnoticed
On small padded feet.
And the days and the years
Walked unmarked, except by  
Dusty lines on our faces 
And sepia memories
Revived by the sound
Of a fading plane. 

Got an A for that one - yay me!  (Which reminds me, I need to enroll for next semester soon...)

Anyhow, back to Alaska.  Apart from a satellite phone for emergencies, the only contact we had with the rest of the world was via the bush pilots.  We were a world away from Fantasy Island but the sound of an approaching plane brought Tattoo's cry "De plane!  De plane!" to mind more than once.  Everyone in camp at the time would head out to the 'airstrip' to greet the pilot and help unload the goodies.

Helping unload and load the plane.

And seeing as it wasn't a quick jaunt to the supermarket, planes usually also meant the arrival or departure of hunters.  The first team we said goodbye to was Jerry and Lisa and it was a sad farewell - they are a great couple and brought a lot of laughter to camp.  The joint cook-tent-crossword-solving effort was an epic event and I'll never look at a crossword puzzle again without giggling.  Jerry's such a good sport.

Jerry & Lisa on their last day in camp.

So now, along with memories of the long, hot, dry summers of my youth, the distant sound of a prop plane also brings to mind a colder, utterly wild part of the world.  Two different hemispheres; the bottom and the top of the world, two different times separated by 'several' years, but still the same 'Great Outdoors', good friends and good times.

Next up:  Bow Hunting in Alaska