Fairbanks: Life Under the Midnight Sun and the Northern Lights (Summer Solstice W/O)
Written: Jun 21 '01 (Updated Jun 21 '01)
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Pros: The midnight sun, aurora borealis, beautiful light, nice folks
Cons: Mosquitos
The Bottom Line: Many seek fortunes here; a special few stay. If you want to live very close to nature, like the cold and tolerate DEET, Fairbanks is a great place to live.
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| wovengold's Full Review: Alaska |
Why would anyone choose to live in Fairbanks, Alaska?
The first pioneers came in 1902, lured by gold. A later boom brought others to build the Alaska oil pipeline. The Army and Air Force brought many, and they either married and stayed to raise families or came back after their careers were done. Some self-reliant folks wanted a simpler lifestyle and found it in the great outdoors, building their own cabins, mushing dogs, and hunting, fishing, gathering berries and gardening for their subsistence.
I was seduced by the light.
I stepped off the plane at noon on December 26, 1994, after a long flight from Atlanta. I fell in love with the light. Yes, it was cold: -35 degrees F, and it had been almost 100 degrees warmer than that when I'd left Georgia. I had done my research and expected the difference, so I hardly noticed it. But nothing I had read or seen had prepared me for the light.
At noon on a late December day, not long after the Winter Solstice (the shortest day of the year), the light slants low, the sun just skimming the horizon. The light touches the snow with a golden brush and paints everything in pastel pinks, blues, lavenders and greens. I felt as if I'd just walked into Disney's Fantasia. Fairbanks, I thought, was the loveliest town I'd ever seen. Of course, I couldn't see much because 8-foot-tall snow banks obscured almost everything from the road.
Well, break-up (our version of spring) was a bit of a surprise. Spring may bloom beautiful elsewhere, but quite frankly, it isn't a pretty season here. In April the snow berms that hide all the flaws begin to melt and turn to mud. For the first time I saw Fairbanks at its worst: butt-ugly, with winter debris everywhere and odd shapes emerging day-by-day from the melting snow. That first year I watched as the snow withdrew to reveal a sofa, a dead moose, a car door and one bunny boot* from several different spots along my daily commute. (The moose puzzled me longest: Not until the ravens began feasting did I realize what it was.) I looked around me and discovered another of Fairbanks' most notable traits: The houses all look unfinished. There is a reason for that, but I didn't know it at the time.
I was seduced by the light, but I stayed for the people.
Fairbanks is the second largest city in Alaska, but don't let that fool you. There are only 552,000 people in the entire state, which covers more than 570,000 square miles. With fewer than 32,000 people in Fairbanks proper, it's really just a small town.
Every May all of Fairbanks gets out on a Saturday to pick up the winter's trash. Overnight, the roadsides are cleaned of every last fast food wrapper, every lost hubcap, discarded icebox and broken dog box. With almost every member of the community pitching in to "spit and polish" the roadsides, sidewalks, parks and yards, the town looks scrubbed and ready.
We're ready for summer.
Ask most Fairbanksans why they stay through the long dark days of winter and the unspeakable cold, and you'll get one reply: Fairbanks has the best summers of any place on earth. It's also the reason the population of our town more than doubles during the summer months. Vacationers from "the Lower 48" come in cavalcades of RVs, on cruise ships, by plane and even by railroad to Fairbanks, the "Golden Heart City" of Alaska's Interior.
Locals might gripe a bit about the sudden onslaught of "crowds" -- I still laugh about that after living so long in Atlanta -- but make no mistake, we're glad to see 'em coming. Fairbanks depends on tourism as much as it does on gold mining or the oil business. But the welcome isn't just mercenary: Scratch a Fairbanks "Sourdough" and you'll probably find somebody who once was a "Cheechako," a greenhorn from another place. We're proud that we can survive up here, and we enjoy sharing our more hair-raising experiences with our visitors. You'll hear all about close encounters with bears, moose and monster salmon; you'll probably also hear about winters so cold you can see your voice crack and shatter to the ground before your words are ever heard. Take it all with a grain of salt, but remember that every tall tale has a kernel of truth, too. In other words, don't try to pet the moose, and wear your bear bells and whistle or sing when you're out picking berries.
One day shortly after the community clean-up, Nature decides It's Time. Drive to work one morning in late May, and you'll see the same muted browns and grey-greens of the spruce trees you've seen since the snow melted. Drive home from work that afternoon, and you'll find yourself bedazzled by the vivid new greens of the birches and aspens and cottonwoods that have somehow -- miraculously -- leafed out fully while you weren't watching.
It's true that the winter days are short here. Around Winter Solstice, we may have only three hours of useable daylight. But there are benefits: The skies are incredibly clear on the coldest nights, and that's when you can see the Aurora Borealis best. The first time I saw it, I didn't know what I was seeing: I thought the strange pink glow was reflected light from a city. (Remember, I'd been living in Atlanta.) Only later did I realize that there isn't any city! The Northern Lights are shapeshifters, appearing sometimes as an ethereal glow, other times snapping across the sky like a green bullwhip. After seven years, I'm still mesmerized by these lights.
Winter nights are long, but after the solstice we gain nearly seven minutes of light each day until the near-24-hour sunlight of Summer Solstice. Think about it: Seven minutes a day times seven days equals 49 minutes of additional light each week! I am fascinated anew each year as I watch the gradual but definite change in light from day to day. After the Summer Solstice, the reverse happens and we lose nearly 7 minutes of light per day.
But how can you stand the extreme temperatures and differences in light?
Amazingly, the body does adjust. Locals say your blood thickens after you've been here awhile, and I believe this is true. Where once I thought nothing of summer temperatures in the 90s, today I am hot if it gets up into the high 70s. (And that's about where it stays on most summer days.) In the winter, I find I wear less gear each year. Sometimes I don't bother with a coat unless it's 30 below. (Of course, safety dictates always having one in the car, plus extra blankets and emergency supplies.)
As for adjusting to the changes in light, after the first year I've enjoyed it. True, I'd like more sleep in the winter. I believe we all need to hibernate a little. But in summer I sleep very little, and I don't feel the lack. Just last night I was out after midnight working on the neverending construction of our chicken palace.
The chickens have an interesting way of coping. The light in their coop is on a timer: On at 5:30 a.m., off at 8:30 p.m. This allows them to give me eggs during the deepest part of winter. But in summer, they still go to roost at about 8:30 p.m., even when it is as bright as mid-afternoon elsewhere. Then, when the sun begins to "rise" at 2:30 a.m., my roosters crow -- and go back to sleep for another three hours.
The sun doesn't really rise or set at this time of the year. Just as in the deepest part of winter, when the sun barely clears the horizon before setting again, in summer the sun barely dips below the horizon before rising again.
So what's so great about summer in Fairbanks?
If you want to mow your lawn at midnight, you can, and you can probably be sure somebody else is doing the same thing.
Well, okay, that's not a real plus to me. But it's one of the things people always mention. The point is, you can stay outside all night long doing whatever it is you want to do, and you can see yourself doing it. Here are some of the things that make summer special for us.
Fishing
Most Summer Solstice nights find me out paddling the canoe, trolling for my husband while he fly fishes for rainbow trout, silver salmon or arctic grayling, preferably at Little Harding Lake. This lake is stocked and maintained for trophy fish, so anything under 22" must be released. We just like to be out on the water together, talking quietly and watching the ducks and moose. We also like to paddle and fish at Chena Lake, Quartz Lake, Moose Creek and Piledriver Slough. Fairbanks offers access to good fishing in rivers and lakes too numerous to mention here.
Berry-Picking
If you know what you're seeing, there is no way you could possibly starve in Interior Alaska in summer. From late June through August, berries ripen everywhere. I have been to places where it was impossible to set foot anywhere without crushing low-bush cranberries (called lingonberries elsewhere), low-bush blueberries and crow berries. We also have cloudberries, wild currants, huckleberries, kinnikinick, raspberries, wild rosehips, wild strawberries and too many others to mention.
If you do wander north in berry season, look for a copy of Alaska Wild Berry Guide & Cookbook published by Alaska Northwest Books. This is an invaluable sourcebook, including full-color pictures, text descriptions, when to gather, etc., as well as a huge selection of recipes for your harvest.
The Midnight Sun Baseball Game, Festival and Fun Run
Since 1904, Fairbanksans have gathered under the Midnight Sun for a baseball game unlike any other in the world. The game starts at 10:30 p.m. and is played in its entirety without the benefit of artificial lighting.
The "Midnight Classic" draws nearly 4,000 people; tickets cost $5 and each fan receives a commemorative coin for attending.
The Midnight Sun Festival is a downtown street fair, with booths, food, games and rides. Open from noon to midnight, this year's festival will have three stages featuring musical performances, martial arts demonstrations, theater and other diversions.
The Midnight Sun Fun Run is a wacky Fairbanks tradition, with many participants running the 10K course in costume. This is truly a spectacle, with "floozies" running beside "prospectors," and people dressed up as giant cabbages and sunflowers.
There's also the Tanana Valley State Fair, several hot springs, eateries with a history, the University of Alaska Museum and several top-notch Alaskan art galleries where you can see the amazing light of the Midnight Sun or the Aurora Borealis through the eyes of others more talented than I.
The only downside to summer in Fairbanks, as far as I can see, is the three-wave infestation of mosquitos -- which makes DEET my summer cologne indoors and out. Oh, and like most good things, our summer doesn't last long enough. Which is why, in spite of hammering away past midnight, most of us live in houses that look unfinished. You just can't get it all ready for winter in time. You've gotta go fishing, and those berries are waiting!
I'm running out of steam and time and you're probably running out of patience. For more information on what to do and see in Fairbanks, winter or summer, visit http://www.newsminer.com and click on the link for the Fairbanks Visitor's Guide on-line. You can also contact the Fairbanks Convention and Visitors Bureau at 1-800-327-5774.
*Bunny boots are big, rubber, military-issue boots meant for use in extreme cold. Available in either black or white, they're inflatable to fit your foot and provide an insulating cushion of air, and they look pretty funny until you get used to them. They're ubiquitous Alaskan winter wear, along with Carhardts.
~*~
Some of my favorite Epinionators are helping me celebrate the long days of summer by participating in this Summer Solstice Write-Off.
Please take a few minutes to check out the summer scribblings of amycamus, art_ana, BeeCharmer, bmcnichol, caspian, eplovejoy, flak-attak, Girl_Goddess, jo.com, jro26, marytara, naphtalia,
Pearman, phineaskc, Social14, wardukeky and windfish. Go to
http://wovengold.tripod.com/solstice for links to their write-off submissions.
Thanks to everyone for writing, and thanks for reading!
Recommended:
Yes
Best Suited For: Families
Best Time to Travel Here: Anytime
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wovengold
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Member: Kristin Summerlin
Location: Two Rivers, Alaska
Reviews written: 34
Trusted by: 45 members
About Me:
Life's too crazy. Be back someday...
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