Civilization vs. Isolation: Comparing Experiences in Alaska

I keep comparing this experience in Alaska with my time here in 2004. That's not really a fair thing to do since the state is so large, and I'm a completely different area, with a different climate and landscape, but I can't help myself. In 2004 I was near Fairbanks, in the interior of the state. There it was hot (80s), low elevation, a lot of forests, animals, and mosquitoes. Here, I'm in the mountains, in the tundra above the tree line. Maybe once the flowers start to bloom and things turn green, I will change my mind, but I prefer the forests and lower elevations. It has been very cold, cloudy, and desolate up in the mountains.

Also in 2004, it was such an adventure--complete isolation in the forests, no running water or electricity; 45 minutes from anything; moose, bears, lynx, beavers. The crew up there was also very wild, which added to the drama. Here, though its isolated in the mountains, we are only 15 miles from Alaska's fastest growing region: the Mat-Su Valley (home to the towns Palmer and Wasilla). With the convenience of stores, internet, etc. it doesn't feel that different from the rest of the US. As for wildlife, I've only seen marmots, ground squirrels, and one moose. Also, the volunteers who I'm living with are a lot more laid back and responsible--less exciting, though I guess that's a good thing.

All in all, I have to embrace this unique experience (and the constant cold), instead of comparing it to my previous time in Alaska. Just because this is the part of the state with people in it, doesn't mean its not Alaska.

Looking down the valley

The Big House

Independence Mine State Historic Park

Day 2

So far, I seem pretty lucky. Not sure if that’s since I’m the oldest of the volunteers, or if it’s because I was the first to get here, but I’m staying in the Visitor Center (The Big House). This was the former residence of the mine manager. Upstairs there is a small apartment, with a kitchen, bathroom, and bedroom. The other volunteers stay in a portion of the bunk house no. 2, a large three story building which used to house the miners. With the exception of four rooms, this structure has not been restored. The bunk house does have electricity and a gas heater, but no running water. I don’t feel too guilty about my preferential accommodations…the last time I was in Alaska (at the 33 mile compound in the Chena River State Rec. Area outside Fairbanks), I was the last to arrive and got stuck with the worst cabin. Previous volunteers there had nicknamed it “the Ghetto,” no heat, electricity, water, etc.

Day 2—Monday, June 6: Although when around 7am it was 33 degrees here, today was a beautiful day. Sunny and warm, down in the valley in got in the low 60s, and up here at ISMHP it got to about 56. Now this does not sound to warm, especially when you factor in the constant breeze coming off the mountains, but it was sunny and clear—great views. Yesterday, Sunday, was extremely wet, cold, and cloudy. At ISMHP it didn’t get above the 30s, and we had a constant mixture of snow and rain. Glad I brought my winter jacket and gloves. Tanveer (anther volunteer) and I had tried to go hiking on the Gold Cord Trail, but there was so much snow on the ground, it was hard to tell where the trail actually was. After a half hour or so of hiking through snow and tundra, cold and wet, we called it quits and turned back. But today, Monday—much nicer, a good deal of the snow melted, spent the day training.

First thoughts

At 1 am on Sunday, June 6, 2011, we ascended the Palmer Fishhook Rd through the Talkeetna Mountains. I had arrived at the Anchorage airport around midnight, and Matt Weaver was there to pick me up. It was somewhat dark outside—though not dark enough to see stars—the darkness aided by the drizzle and cloud cover. As we took the turn past the abandoned Motherload Inn, we began a rapid climb through the mountains. We entered the clouds and visibility fell to only a few feet. Within moments we were above the clouds, the valley and the road we had just traveled, obscured below us. Off in the distance, we saw a set of lights. “That’s the big house, where you will be staying,” Matt told me. Up to this point, I still thought I was staying at Matt’s residence in Palmer—as he had told me in a previous email. He seemed so excited to meet me, he was very talkative and outgoing, I thought maybe he just wanted to play tour guide for a while. We entered the gate and drove another ¾ of a mile to my new home, the ghost town called the Independence State Mines Historic Site. Matt helped me unload my gear, showed me to the house, and by 2 am I was alone in a ghost town in the middle of mountains.