Not Cold Enough: My Life in the Arctic

December 7, 2008



Barrow – Alaska

According to the Weather Underground, the temperature here today is -13 Farenheit with a windchill of -39.

The sensation of the cold is exciting, yet perplexing to the extent of causing a certain sense of unease. If your car breaks down, or if you even get locked out of your house while taking out the trash, you are immediately faced with challenges that few of us ever face. The wind finds its way through any open space in your clothing. If you don’t have your undershirt tucked in, you may as well not even have a coat on because the chill travels up from your belly and penetrates your core immediately. You move fast, swiftly and without confusion because your focus is important.

The Eskimos are like this. Generally, they are concentrated and survival oriented. Imagine the contrast of a Southern equatorial people who relax, speak in a slow manner, and generally draw through the day with ease and understanding that food is easy to collect and the temperature is never too harsh to be outside. In the polar region, things seem the opposite. Words are sharp and few, ideas are direct, and the focus on survival and sustenance is real. Inupiat means “the real people.” Here, you must be real because you cannot fake your way through this place.

At the same time, it is so beautiful. The Arctic night is something I will always cherish. It carries a silent emptiness that is receptive to every energy, every sound, every whisper. Every person here is important and has the ability to disrupt things in a grand scale. Alternatively, every person has the ability to become like the Arctic itself and become more silent, more sustainable, more respectful.

The snow machine is a tremendously powerful tool here. Like all tools, it is abused by some, used to chase, exhaust and even run down fur-bearing animals, to destroy the calm of the night by racing the streets, and to pollute the clean Arctic air. It is cherished for its value in carrying folks farther and more easily than sled dogs, but it is unfortunate that it is not treated more as the tool it really is than merely as a toy to play.

I am struggling to live without the sun, which has been gone since November 17th. My days are brightened by the people, and by the fantastic leaders here. The Inupiat are so encouraged by the new administration. A chance exists to create a new policy towards the arctic: one that recognizes the people, the ocean and the wildlife as much as the oil underneath them.

Everyone here works so hard. There is always too much to do. I’ve given my work here a theme “Not cold enough: my life in the Arctic.” I hate to say it, but as cold as I get here, I know that this part of the world is warming nearly twice as fast as the rest of the planet. I am happy to be cold, and I know that I must help to keep it cold. Who would have thought a guy from West Valley City, Utah, could have such an awesome job!?