riser

There are strange things done in the midnight
sun by the men who moilfor gold;
The Arctic trails have their secret tales that

' would make your blood run cold;

The Northern Lights have seen queer sights,
but the queerest you ever did see

Was that night on the marge of Lake Lebarge-I
cremated Sam McGee. ‘
— Robert Service

en a single woman moves to '
Alaska, she is told that “the odds
. are good but the goods are odd,”

referring to her chances of meeting a man —
although that’s not my concern. But that phrase
sums up a lot of Alaska. It’s a great and odd
place, where there are some strange things done.
In our cabin, just north of Fairbanks
and about 100 miles south of the Arctic Circle,
we are as close to Tokyo as we are to
Burlington. We are watching summer fade into
fall. Soon the bills will be the brilliant goldof
aspen and birch trees. Already, the night is
creeping back into our lives. No more round-
the-clock golf toumaments. No more midnight-
sun baseball with the Goldpanners. The mid-
night road races are over and no one is mow-
ing their lawn or boating at l a.m. anymore.
The tour buses are here but will disappear
abruptly with the tourists just afier Labor Day.
Although it is sad in mid-August to

see the summer fade, it almost comes as a,
relief. After all, since May, the pace here has
been too fast and the days too long. Activities
frequently reach past midnight, leaving most of
us tired and ready to let the endless sun finally

' set. Now, when I wake in the night, it is dark

and sleep is easy. As we lose seven minutes of
light each day, fall comes on quickly.

With the onset of winter comes that
special day when more people go out to dinner
and spend more money than any other day of
the year. On this day the government mails
out, or direct-deposits, the Permanent Fund
Dividend checks. Alaska has no income tax
and no state sales tax, and the government pro-
vides every resident a bonus for living here.
The money comes from the millions of barrels
of oil flowing down the 800 mile ribbon of
pipeline that crosses the state. One year, each
of us was rewarded with nearly $2,000. We
may already be deep in snow but October is a
month to celebrate. ’

And the fun and games of winter
will be here soon. Even downhill skiing is dif-
ferent here in Fairbanks. My favorite hill is
Moose Mountain where there is no chair lift or
even a tow rope. Your “lift ticket” gets you a
seat on an old school bus for the five minute
drive up the road to the top of Murphy Dome.
Ski down, throw your skis on the rack, and
hop onto the heated bus to head up for the next

we 0 out in temountains

nm. This arrangement really works here.
In the deep of winter, intricate hand-

‘ carved ice sculptures are found all over town.

The incredible display of figures, scenes, and
even castles illuminated with colored lights
brightens the long dark days. Businesses spon-

_ sor carvings so there is a surprise around every

comer. There is even a phone booth of ice,
equipped with a real payphone, and one parish
always has a life-size creche scene carved out
of ice, on the roof of their church. The intricate
carvings last for weeks, only softening and
falling when the winter sun emerges for more
and more time each day.

_ Like everywhere, people here love .
competition. The Iditarod and the Yukon Quest
Sled Dog Races get international attention.
Even the 2,000-mile Iron Dog Snowmachine
Race gets some press outside the state. But the
really fun races are the absurd local events. We
just had the Red-Green Regatta where anyone
can enter a homemade contraption to race
downriver as long as the “boat”~is made with
duct tape. If the rig floats, it has a chance at
winning.

The Rubber Duckie race is a fund-
raiser where 9,000 little yellow rubber bath tub
toys are dumped into the Chena River to see
which floats the fastest. This year, recently
appointed U.S Senator Lisa Murkowski (R- 7
AK), won second place in the rubber duckie

 

contest. (Could this be symbolic of her finish
in the heated senatorial race?)

Another popular outing is the Annual
Outhouse Race held at the Chatanika Lodge.
To enter, you need an outhouse on skis fit to be
pushed down the hill and round a steep corner
to the finish. One person is seated and two
push. Some of the rigs actually make it to the
finish line without breaking up or flying off. It
is great fun to watch on one of thosebrilliant,
sunny winter days when you realize why living
‘through the winter. is worth every dark
moment.

I learned that Fairbanks was different
before I’d ever moved here. The ads for rentals
read like this: Yurt, 14 acres, pets welcome, no
water, $250/month; or'Cabin, $350, includes
elect/heat/propane/cable, pets welcome, no
water: Lots of folks live “without water” here,

' just out of town. They haul water in for cook-

ing and dishes, and shower at the gym or laun-
dromat. In the city proper, outhouses were
banned just five yearsago. Here’s a secret
though. A quick trip to the outhouse during a
frigid arctic night may reveal the amazing
Northern Lights. Indoor plumbing will never
be this rewarding. V ’

Assistant Editor Susan Mcll/fillan and her part-
ner are spending the summer in Alaska but
promise to return to Vermont in November: