Living it Up, Rustic Style

Alaska is a mosaic of paradoxes and contrasts. You land somewhere between the gold rush days of over a century ago and the leading edges of the modern world.  At one side, you land in a modern airport that could be dropped into any US city, get your gear and go out to climb into a high wheeled 4-wheel drive SUV or truck. You move thorough paved streets lined with Walmart, Home Depot and Burger King, gas stations and mini-marts before you roll out into forest and mountains. The road morphs to a gravel two-laner and then maybe a muddier, potholed track that serves as a Jeep or ATV trail in the summer and a snow machine and sled dog route in winter.  Now you’re at the edge of the bush.

The lights fade until all you can see is the low hazy fog and clouds or on a clear night—all flights seem to land in Alaska at night—a midnight sky with more brilliant stars than you ever imagined and maybe the flickering silver-green ribbons of the Aurora, twining and twisting, swirling and shifting above.  As you emerge into a clearing, usually on a hillside because there is not a lot of level land in Alaska,  the dogs greet you—or really the familiar vehicle they know the boss man or lady is driving. You hear a building chorus of howls from soprano to deepest bass, ever more voices joining until the entire canine population is taking part. I love the sound; it touches some inner primal spot in  my soul. I miss that almost more than anything else.

There are not a lot of lights—maybe the beam from a ubiquitous headlamp or two, perhaps a string of Christmas style bulbs in a cabin window. These are preferred since the newer LED type use little power.  There are cabins—maybe modern frame and maybe traditional log. Inside it is warm with a wood or oil burning stove heating the compact spaces. There will be a bunk, inviting after a long day’s journey. You shed your outer clothes and crawl into the nest of blankets or the sleeping bag and slide off to sleep perhaps to the lullaby of another collective howl.

Every Alaskan, even those out in the deep bush, has a cell phone, smart phone, a tablet, maybe all of those and more. Verizon and a couple of other carriers provide surprisingly wide coverage and although there may not be running water or normal electric usage, they will have at least a small generator to provide power to charge those devices. That communication net is a form of security today. It is valued highly.

It will be chilly when you wake up the next morning so you scramble into your cold, stiff  clothes and make sure you have at least two pairs of socks on inside your boots as you stumble off to the main house or cabin. There will probably be coffee and maybe some breakfast. Perhaps you just gulp one fast cup and collect the bucket for the kibble and a scoop to measure out the correct portion for each dog. You or another worker will tote buckets of water and put a dipper or two into each dog’s dish where you dump the kibble in too. This helps insure each dog gets the hydration it needs.

Interior-battery bank on shelf by window

Back to the dichotomy—there may be a large flat screen TV on a wall in the main cabin but there is probably no reception. Entertainment is provided by a video player and a collection of DVD and even some VCR movies and old TV programs. But there is no running water; the outhouse sits some yards from the cabin—nothing but utilitarian although some mushers prefer it to be heated and some even have a sauna in the same structure. There is no shower or bathtub or even wash basin in most cases. You may be able to heat a kettle of water on a stove and use a pan or basin for a quick wash up. That’s if you are lucky!

Interior--bunk in fore

In the main cabin, the cook stove may be wood or propane and there is probably a propane powered fridge. Most mushers eat more from the store than from the land these days although you may be served moose, caribou and salmon which was stocked up during the summer and fall hunting seasons. It’s likely you’ll use paper or plastic plates and table ware—it is faster and cheaper to discard it than to wash a pile of dishes. Practicality is a big value to most mushers and they cut corners where they can on work and/or expense and juggle them to the best advantage. You will soon learn what your musher values highest—after the dogs and training/racing gear, that is. Creature comforts beyond a few basics are rarely high on the list.

After a few days it begins to feel less strange. Humans are adaptable creatures and we can exist in many environments. You sleep in your base layer (normally long underwear and socks of merino wool, which is itchless, very warm, moisture wicking and fast drying) and probably spread out things like gloves and outer socks near the stove so they will dry overnight. You forgo the niceties of a morning face wash and certainly do not give a thought to makeup or styling your hair. You have new priorities: visit the outhouse (in the real cold season most people will keep a can or bucket in the cabin at night and empty it in the morning), get some coffee, do the first set of chores, eat and plan out the day—which seldom goes exactly as planned, and then start off on the day’s work.

Evening comes much quicker than you expect. The dogs are fed and settled for the night. You be sure you have your headlamp before dark and collect in the main cabin for dinner and maybe watch a movie and visit until the yawns begin and everyone drifts off to his or her bunk. The musher will get a dog or two in for the night—usually right after the meal because huskies are incurable beggars and love to eat ‘special’ things! Sometimes a handler may take a favorite dog in for the night as well. Maybe just before bed you step out to gaze up in awe at the neon display overhead—mostly green with a silvery tint but occasionally red, blue or purple, depending on what particles are energized with that particular magnetic storm. You are not a real Alaskan yet but you are getting a feel for it.