The bite of winter, coming on - Update, 1:01 AM, Monday: Violet is her name
Monday, September 27, 2010 at 1:01AM 
Originally posted at 4:58 PM, Sunday, September 26.
The wind was tearing when I drove out of Wasilla Friday afternoon, gusts slamming so hard into the car that at times it felt like we were going to be blown off the road. Worse yet, it had whipped up the powdered-sugar fine glacier dust and filled the air with it, irritating my throat and lungs and, judging by his little cough, Jobe's too. Our valley trees had been stripped of much of their fall color. The air felt cold, too, the way it does just before winter sets in. Margie dropped me off at the airport and soon my flight was being hammered and buffeted as it climbed through the turbulence roiling off the mountains, but at altitude, the air was smooth. As we descended into Fairbanks, we again encountered turbulence so strong as to cause the stewardess to be lifted from the floor and me to fear for her safety. I had an hour-and-half layover in Fairbanks, extended by delay into two-and-half hours. In the wintertime, when we drop into Fairbanks from South Central, we expect the temperature to be colder there. In the summer, we expect it to be warmer. The weather my last two stops in Fairbanks, the most recent just two weeks ago, had been very warm. But on this day, as I walked back to the plane and took this picture, I was struck by the cold bite in the wind. Winter must be coming on.
There was no snow when I arrived in Barrow. When I first became familiar with the town, back when I was producing the original incarnation of Uiñiq magazine, the snow had always set in for good by now, usually about the 20th of the month. Sometimes, I would hear some of the older elders speak of how things had warmed up, how, when they were young, snow and freeze-up would often set in by the end of August. In recent years, it has often not set in until early October. When I woke up Saturday morning, I found that the snow had come.
I walked to Pepe's for breakfast and saw that the moon was up.
Coming home, I walked by the Chukchi Sea of the Arctic Ocean. The water was dark and turbulent. The wind caught tufts of foam and sent it flying by, in delicately frozen tufts.
The Friends of Tuzzy Library had brought me up to talk about doing Gift of the Whale and to show slides from the book. As starting time drew near, the wind was tearing, snow was flying and I wondered if any more than the five or six people who had already gathered when I took this picture through the library window - very near to starting time - would show up.
As it turned out, people did come, pretty close to what would be the full, comfortable, capacity of the library to hold them. We ate a potluck dinner and then I spoke and showed my slides. It was great fun. They gave out door prizes afterward, including a few copies of Gift of the Whale. Anna Jack, here with husband Simmick, won the first copy. She told me that was good, as she had worn her first copy out. Authors like to hear this kind of thing.
This young lady, held in the arms of her father Bryan Thomas, was youngest person to buy a book, which she had me autograph. I feel terrible, as I have forgotten her name. I thought I would remember it after I addressed a book to her, but I didn't. I don't know about this getting older stuff.
Afterward, I stepped outside. The snow had momentarily stopped flying. This is the bowhead skull that sits between the entrance to the Tuzzy Library and the Iñupiat Heritage Center.
;)
As I walked back to the house of Roy Ahmaogak, my host, I heard a knock on a window to the side. I looked and saw the gentleman at right waving, and gesturing for me to come in. I did, and James and Ellen served me tea and ice cream. Thank you, James and Ellen. Thank you, Friends of Tuzzy. Thank you, Barrow. Thank you, Arctic Slope. I just got a call from Melanie. She says it snowed in Anchorage this morning, but didn't stick. Wouldn't it be nice if we got to enjoy a real, old-fashioned, Alaska winter this year? Except that we don't have any firewood. The summer that just ended was just so tight that we weren't able to get any. We had better get some, soon, though.
The update:
As it happened, two hours after I made this post at 4:58 PM, Sunday, Roy Ahmaogak drove me to the Barrow airport, helped me carry my bags into the Alaska Airlines terminal, disappeared and then quickly reappeared to tell me that Bryan and his young daughter whose name I had forgotten were also here at the terminal.
Here they are: Bryan and one year old Violet, whose name I know now and have recorded in my history of the world as I experience it.
Then I was out on the tarmac, walking toward the Alaska Airlines jet that would take me to Anchorage. As I walked toward it, I wondered if, anywhere in this world, there is another land so magnificent, great and wonderful as Alaska.
I do not wish to offend any of my Outisde readers, but, no, I don't think there is.
And lucky me - right here in the midst of it!! Surrounded by it - traveling through it, calling it home - my home, that I still yearn to know so much better than I do.
Reader Comments (6)
Yours is the second blog report of snow in Alaska. It makes me shiver to think that this cold will soon descend to us as well.
Thank you so much for speaking to the Friends of Tuzzy Library, Bill. Violet and our whole family enjoy your book.
great pictures...i have your book on my Amazon wish list, can't wait to order it :)
This was really inspiring Bill and you're right Alaska is truly beautiful. I love the pictures you took with the plane and the snow next to it. Those were absolutely stunning!
Alaska is exceptional, no doubt about it. It's a place like no other. You're truly blessed to be there and to witness such history all around you. That's why I love your blog :)
Alaska is a great place, but I like my "Carolina". Why do you think they call the sky "Carolina Blue"?! Go getem Bill!