Elusive Aurora (Borealis)

About 10pm, Tuesday night, in spite of frigid temperatures, news of a stronger-than-average solar burst enticed me out of doors in search of the elusive Aurora. I say "elusive" because in the past few years I've noticed a trend toward fewer Aurora sightings and, even when spotted, the color (usually just green) has been less vibrant, even milky.

I also say "elusive" because in the ten years I've lived in this village, I've never been able to capture the Northern Lights photographically. And even these meager shots in the dark (literally) were taken without a tripod, so they're nothing to brag about from a technical standpoint.

Still, I feel like one of those Sasquatch hunters who has finally snagged a clear, indisputable photo of his quarry! I caught the Aurora in my own back yard! How terrific is that?

Was it worth kneeling in the snow?

...in the dark?

...@ 47 below?

...while brushing frost off my eyelashes and nose?

Completely!

And a fun little factoid about wearing snow pants and a heavy parka is that no one can see the pajamas underneath! :)



So if you're interested in the Aurora Borealis, here are some extremely informative sites that delve deeper into both the scientific and photographic aspects of the subject. I found graphs that illustrate and explain the dearth of aurora sightings I've noticed over the last few years. How validating! :)

Aurora Hunter

Aurora Forecast-Geophysical Institute

The Aurora Page

Hunting The Great Alaskan Aurora

And if you want to see spectacular photographs and an awesome video of Tuesday night's aurora activity in Canada and the UK...check this out! (scroll all the way to the bottom for the video)

http://www.dailymail.co.uk/sciencetech/article-2091117/The-midnight-phoenix-rises-Biggest-solar-storms-seven-years-create-spectacular-northern-lights.html

Moonlight? Spotlight? Or what?

A little clarification.

That's a snow fence in the foreground, the shadowed riverbank just beyond, and the frozen river is that white space between the two. Beyond that, it's all tundra, flat tundra, without trees or any other sort of obstruction, which makes that sliver of laser-bright luminescence all the more noticeable...and strange.

In all the years that I've lived in the Arctic, I've never seen anything like this. There have been plenty of clear nights in which the moon illuminated the entire snow-covered expanse creating an ocean-like reflection as far as the eye could see.

This night was different.

It's as if a spotlight was trained on one, specific, amazingly limited area.

Very pretty. But kind of eerie.



Sort of Twilight Zone-ish...without the pesky aliens.

At least, as far as I know.

Favorite Foto Friday

When I decided to post a favorite photo on Fridays, I didn't intend it as a fall back or substitute for actual posting. But time for blogging and internet connections that'll support it don't seem to working in sync right now. So...for now..this is what I've got.

This amazing scene adorned my window about a week ago. I have no idea how frost can form in so many different shapes and patterns...all within inches of each other. When I loaded this shot onto Flickr, I titled it Frosty Fantasia. Being uncertain of the exact meaning of the word "fantasia," I looked it up.

fantasia |fanˈtā zh ə; fantəˈzēə|
noun
a musical composition with a free form and often an improvisatory style.
• a musical composition that is based on several familiar tunes.
• a thing that is composed of a mixture of different forms or styles.

If music could be frozen...wouldn't it look something like this?

Cool Things 2 Do @ -42

The weather this morning is amazing...not beautiful and clear, but warm and calm.

In fact, over the last two days, temperatures have risen about 45 degrees! At the moment, we are hovering around zero with NO WIND! That's practically a heat wave considering that less than a week ago we were sitting at -49 with 35 mph winds!

Oddly enough, during all that wind and cold weather, school was only canceled once. Of course, teachers and staff were still expected to attend on that day, so at lunch time our fearless leader decided that she wanted to see some of the oddities of the Arctic for herself.

This short video shows water being thrown from a cup and instantly freezing in the air (that happens in the first milli-second of the video...so don't look away or you'll miss it) as well as bubbles freezing into a rubbery consistency (I say this repeatedly on the video...when will I ever learn to keep my mouth shut while recording???).

Just a couple of cool things to do at negative forty-two. :)

Big Night

So what do you do on Halloween night when temperatures are hovering around zero and you live hundreds of miles off the road system?

You make your own fun. That's what you do!

Puuqtaluk is an annual Halloween event that involves costumed dancers and a full night of silliness and laughter. For a more detailed explanation, click here.

It's difficult to appreciate the craziness of Puuqtaluk unless you experience it for yourself. The costumes can be a bit...er...off-putting if viewed out of context.



If you're not a local, it's hard to imagine just what might be lurking behind the gruesome grins.



The whole idea is to remain anonymous.



See what I mean?

But Atqasuk residents know that it's all in fun. No one relishes frightening anyone. The costumes are meant to conceal and distract from the dancer's identity and sometimes they actually pull it off.

Take this guy, for instance.



You'd never know it by looking at him, but there is a stand-up comic buried beneath all that ugly. (A very creative dancer as well). This year he won first place in his age group and then went on to compete against all age groups, including adults, to win the grand prize!

Here he is after winning for the second time that night. Awesome!



So here's the drill...

#1...a space is cleared for dancing...dancers on one side and the audience on the other.



#2...loud music is played in two-three minute segments allowing participants to dance individually as well as alongside competitors.



#3...judges judge.



#4...spectators spectate.



#5...the winner reveals his/her identity and collects a prize.



#6...everyone repeatedly watches videos of students and friends dancing their crazy dances (or am I the only one that does that?).

Familiar Story with a Twist

Whether we like it or not, the carefree fun of summer is just about played out. But don't despair! The cold winds of autumn have blown a new game into town.

Football!

Okay, not such a new game. Most of the U.S., of course, has had a long-standing and intimate relationship with American football for many decades. But, here in the Arctic, that hasn't always been the case.

Arctic football was instituted on the North Slope about two or three years ago amid the rumble of an extremely controversial storm. Even today, sensible points of view on either side of the argument still elicit heated discussion within certain circles across the Slope.

Yet, the games play on.

In Barrow, the teams are average-sized, in most respects, with plenty of players to fill each position on the field, but the village teams are smaller, in both size and number, and tend to be less typical in other ways as well.

Village schools play "eight-man football," a version with slightly different rules, making play more feasible and fun for the smaller teams. Even before the official first day of school for students, our local team has been practicing. A jamboree is on the horizon and our Eagles hope to soar.



In spite of temperatures in the thirties and cold mist chilling most faces, an enthusiastic desire to learn and improve keeps bodies moving while the dirt flies.



Nothing special or unique in any of that, I guess. Football teams across the country are all doing much the same thing.



The cool thing is, on our team, about a third of the guys...



...aren't guys at all!

Only in Alaska?

My phone rang around 5:30 this afternoon. On the other end of the line, I heard a recorded message from Senator Mark Begich of Alaska. Like most people, I absolutely detest telephone solicitations, especially political ones, but, before I could make a move to hang up, I heard him say something about discussing the health care bill.

Now that caught my attention.

For weeks, I've been reading online articles and listening to online radio broadcasts in an effort to understand what in the world is going on with Obama's health care reform efforts. I'm all for reform where reform is needed, but I must admit that much of what I've read and heard has me rather concerned. So I was more than happy to hear what the new Senator from Alaska had to say.

Within a few seconds, I realized that Senator Begich was not soliciting anything or even giving a prepared speech. In fact, the phone call was actually part of a statewide "Tele-Town Hall Meeting."

Say, what???

All across the state, telephones rang with an invitation to talk with Senator Begich (personally!) about health care reform. I have no idea how many people were home to answer their telephones or how many took the senator up on his offer, but for about 30-40 minutes participants from all corners of Alaska called in and were free to ask questions.

Living in a bush village, away from the action and access of important cities, it's easy to feel voiceless and unheard. Today was the first time I've ever felt connected to my government apart from the occasional privilege of casting my vote.

I have no clue whether this "Tele-Town Meeting" thing is a new idea or has been happening for years, but I just want to go on record as saying that I appreciate having that opportunity. I applaud Senator Begich for taking the time to reach out to those he represents in a practical and tangible way. It was a great connection!

And those aren't so easy to come by in Alaska...or anywhere else.

Cold-Hard-Fact #2

There is a reason they call it frost bite.

Okay, so as I write this our weather is -43 F with a slight easterly breeze of 5 mph. That gives us a windchill of 63 degrees below zero. School was canceled (for students) on Monday because of similar temperatures and today seems to be shaping up the same way.

I always have mixed feelings about canceling school because of low temperatures. We do live in the Arctic, after all. Can we really afford to give up on educating children every time it's really cold? I am one of those teachers who hates to see kids lose momentum and missing a day here or there can definitely lead to a stall. Moments in school are precious and my fingers often have to be pried away from time on task.

On the other hand, I absolutely understand the need for caution. The potential for frost bite, especially with children who aren't particularly mindful of such things, is a real danger. On several occasions I have developed blisters on my fingertips (like the one in the photo) even while wearing gloves! Thankfully, the blisters have healed quickly leaving little more than peeling skin to attest to my pain. Not a big deal compared to some of the injuries I've seen lately.

Forty below seems to be the magic number (click the link for Clare's excellent description).  It's the only common point on the Fahrenheit and Celsius scales.  Barring the escalating effects of wind, forty below is forty below whether you live in Alaska, Canada, Siberia, or even Antarctica.  It's like the Bermuda Triangle of the thermometer.   Once that threshold is reached or crossed, strange things begin to happen to both man and machine.  

A few years ago, the insurance company that covers our school district vehicles declared that it would not continue coverage if the vehicles were used while temperatures were -40 or colder.  So, on the coldest days of the year, vehicles are placed in heated garages, planes don't fly, and if someone feels the need to get out, it's their skin...quite literally.

Meanwhile, dedicated faculty and staff haunt the corridors of an empty school, secretly thankful for the windfall of extra time for getting work done.  And my sister, who lives down around Fairbanks, is out getting video of her own kids experimenting with bubbles at 40 below.  I thought some of you might enjoy seeing one of the weird and wonderful effects of extreme cold.

Something Amazing

This video clip was shot by Doug Armstrong, a new teacher here in Atqasuk. A few weeks ago, he discovered something strange swimming along the edge of the Arctic Ocean in Barrow. I've seen jellyfish along the Arctic coast before, but never anything like this! It looks more like something featured on Pure Florida than here! In lieu of an official identification, Doug has dubbed this mysterious creature a "technicolor sea corndog." As far as I know, there's no stick involved. :)



Note: When I viewed the video on YouTube there was an option to "watch in high quality" linked just below the volume button. If this version is too pixelated, I definitely recommend checking it out on the website directly...click here

Here We Go...

About a month ago, a package of warning signs was delivered to the maintenance office at school...just in time for break-up. Break-up is that nebulous segment of spring that defies hard and fast description. Things begin to melt. But then they freeze again. Sometimes things actually seem to re-freeze while they're still melting. Factor in a little wind and a dusting of fresh snow every couple of days and you get a time of year that could be characterized as consistently...inconsistent.

But the result can be glorious...




Or a little frightening...






Sometimes it's more like a blanket edging its way off the bed...



...or simply a delicate whisper of things to come.



Break-up reminds me of a baby bird, chipping its way out of its egg. Progress is slow because the shell is strong. But the strength of the shell is no match for the life that is determined to burst forth. It will burst forth.

But things are going to get really messy in the process.

Strange...

Springtime is turning out to be a strange time this year. I'm seeing things that I've never seen before. Can you tell what this is? Scroll down and take a look at the anomaly that I found on my water pipe the other day.

I understand that the icicles formed when they delivered water to my house. A little water always runs back down the pipe after they disconnect the hose. The feathery crystals would have formed later on one of the many foggy days we've had lately, but the shape of the icicles has me stumped. Weird, huh?

It seems to be a universal phenomenon...

...and I just don't get it.

Almost Springtime Anomaly

Spring is now only a few short weeks away and the restless wind is carving out all sorts of anomalous figures in the softening snow around my house. Those of you living in northern (especially windy) regions may recognize the mysterious sculptures I've captured in these photos. I'm wondering if my southern friends will venture a guess as to how they were formed.

**********

This arctic anomaly always reminds me of those amazing mud-daubed towers built by crawfish, crayfish, or crawdads (pick your label) down south. These towers were created by creatures too, but with very little effort and a lot of input from the elements.



Maybe this will solve the mystery without too many unpleasant details.
:)

It's Chilly...

Frozen eyelashes and frozen hair are both fairly commonplace around here, but eyelashes frozen to frozen hair? Now, that was a first for me! When I left for school this morning the thermometer read -45.9. All along the way, my breath collected back on my face and parka, so that by the time I reached the playground I could feel the tug of my hair pulling on my eyelashes every time I tried to blink (or maybe it was my eyelashes tugging on my hair). So, I decided to attempt to capture this very typical arctic anomaly with the camera. Please forgive the fuzziness. Small buttons, freezing fingers...not a good combination!

Over the last several days our temperatures have hovered around forty-five degrees below zero. It has really wreaked havoc with our school schedule this week because we aren't allowed to run the school bus when the ambient temperature is colder than forty below. That is a fairly new development, though. Until the spring of 2006, school was rarely canceled, even for a blizzard, much less a little cold snap. So the wisdom of that policy is still the focus of considerable debate around the district.

But, bus or no bus, teachers are still expected to show up. So I arrived this morning, as every morning this time of year, with frost on my ruff and frost on my face. When I entered the school the frost quickly began to melt leaving my face wet, even dripping a little. My friend and fellow teacher, Ami, and I laughed about the futility of wearing make-up around here. I know there is such a thing as waterproof mascara, but I have to wonder what happens to that stuff when your eyelashes freeze. And I have a feeling they don't explain that on the box.

Arctic Mirage

Early Thursday morning, as I left for school, I glanced across the lake and noticed a familiar twinkling on the western horizon. Some seventy miles away the lights of Wainwright, radiating through the icy air, flickered like tongues of fire against the dark, velvety sky. In spite of the distance, details of that neighboring village were clearly visible. The pulsating signal from the airport, numerous streetlights, and even headlights from moving vehicles, were easily identified. Although it sounds like a hallucination, I was actually seeing what I believe can be described as an Arctic mirage.

I searched the internet for information and, more importantly, photographs of the phenomenon. My initial Google search yielded 35,400 results. Yikes! I sifted through about twenty sites, searching for photos that accurately depict what I have actually seen over the years. So far, I haven’t found anything that even comes close. The biggest difference seems to be our lack of sunlight. None of the photos that I’ve encountered were taken at night. However, I did find some interesting facts and explanations, so I’ve included some related links in the sidebar to the left of this posting for those who are inclined to delve deeper. And here is a nifty little diagram that I will definitely be using with my students in the future.



Since childhood, my only concept of mirage has been an eerily fluid image (usually an oasis) floating above the burning sands of a stifling desert. In movies, mirages are usually figments of the imagination that inevitably evaporate with increased proximity to reality. But the phenomenon that I’m describing isn’t a work of the imagination. I’ve heard it said that truth is stranger than fiction. That definitely seems to apply here. The scientific explanation just makes the occurrence of Arctic mirage that much more intriguing. The basic principle is that various factors work together to allow one to see things that actually do exist beyond the horizon. I read about explorers and other sailors who used the mirages to help navigate toward known geographical locations. How amazing is that?

Both literally and figuratively, how cool would it be to have the ability to see beyond the edge…around the corner…or over the next hill? I’m not talking about psychic phenomenon or fortune-telling or even a desire to know the future. I’m more interested in the idea of being visionary. There are those who, for whatever reason, have the ability to see beyond the horizon and encourage others toward it. They don’t know every detail of the journey, but they are certain of the destination because they’ve "seen" it. Maybe we all have visionary moments at different points in our lives, fleeting but helpful glimpses of what lies ahead that keep us moving in the right direction. I like that idea. It’s something I hope to remember every time I see the lights of a neighboring village flickering through the darkness…and especially during the times when I don’t.

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Frost

I wore my big parka today…first time this year. It wasn’t really cold enough, but over the last few days the wind has been hurling snow at about twenty-five to thirty-five miles per hour and there’s nothing better than fur to keep a sharp wind from cutting through the bones.

Drifts have been building up across the roads and beside houses. I’ve had to dig out the doghouse five times. I guess that’s pretty much what you would expect this time of year. Without the sun to keep it company, the wind seems to spend a lot of time racing itself across the tundra, swirling snow from the sky with snow on the ground in a frantic, turbulent sort of dance.

But, about a week ago, there was no wind. In its absence, an unusual stretch of calm settled in like a down comforter quietly unfolding across the land. Moist air lingered for a few days and wrapped itself around every solid surface until the whole village was transformed into a wonderland of frost.

Frost has always fascinated me. Growing up in southern states, I think it served as a substitute for the snow that I always hoped to, yet didn’t, experience very often. But, I don’t remember seeing frost like we had here last week. After a few days without wind, layers of feathery crystals began to build up like a sculpture being created in reverse. Ordinary objects, wrapped in a fuzzy disguise, appeared more interesting and fun. Mundane structures…like fences or handrails…seemed delicate, even beautiful. Hard lines all around the village softened. Battle scars from clashes with the elements were temporarily concealed by the elegant, shimmering mantle of ice.

Of course, the wind never stays gone for long and when it finally did return the frost was quickly sheared away. But, while it lasted, it was exquisite…and kind of fun. Tinged by the pale yellow glow of streetlights, the sight of our frost-covered village almost made me feel warm and fuzzy during my early morning treks to school. Considering the climate, that’s not an easy thing to do.

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Unfortunately, I wasn't able to capture the glittery, shimmering effect of the frost in my photos. Either the camera I'm using can't do it...or I just don't know how. But, I do think you can see how thick the frost was. This looks a lot like latticework, but is actually a chain link fence.



Playground equipment...no one playing on it these days.





This silly picture is the sock that I use to cover my doorknob. If I don't keep the knob covered, it will collect moisture, frost, or snow inside the keyhole and will freeze up. A frozen doorknob is very bad news...especially with a half-mile walk back to town. I also have to keep it covered during windy weather in the summertime because the dust blowing off the road causes a similar problem (even worse). A sock is a simple, yet fairly effective, solution!