Over the last month, Anchorage has shoveled our way out of a good 20 inches of snow.  One thing about snow days is that the weather usually has to be in the mid-20s to get a a good snowfall, and usually its followed by a bit of cold weather too.  A couple of days ago, I was talking to a friend about it, and we couldn’t remember the last time the temperature was above freezing.  We had a few days it dropped to stupid crazy cold, had a few days it teetered near freezing, but for the most part its been hovering around 0 to 10°F (-17 to -12°C).

That changed starting Friday and continues thru today.  A warm air mass came north off the sea, leaving to warmer than predicted temperatures.  We were expecting the mid-30s and snow for most of the weekend, but instead … it is downright warm.  Ok, warm for Alaska, not warm for someplace down south.  We nearly broke 50°F (10°C) … okay, maybe around 45°F (7°C), but still … that’s warm.

This change in the weather may not seem like it should change much about this winter wonderland, but it almost seemed to change everything.  Take driving, for instance.  I had become used to the nondescript ruts in the road that you have to fight across to change lanes.  Little spin of the wheels, and you fall in line behind all the other drivers locked into speeds well below the limit.  I was used to waiting longer at a stop, because it takes a bit of spinning wheels of the cars in front of you to move.  Instead, the lanes are clear and wet now.  Younger crazies are pushing well beyond speed limits.  And you can even catch the next light by going on green.

It’s funny to watch Auggie the Doggie go outside these days too.  During the cold spell, he had accidents because getting yelled at for pooping on the carpet was far better than putting his paws into the snow.  Now, there is no longer a foot of snow between him and the stuff he smells.  At one point he jumped into a bush in the backyard and played in it like seeing a long lost friend, which 6 weeks in a 4 month old’s life is like a long lost friend, even if it is just a hibernating plant.  He’ll even barrel through the melting snow.

The moose are active as well, more than I had seen in a bit.  I spotted one running (not just sitting, or eating, but running) in a trailer park.  I see their tracks, fresh, in the snow around different neighborhoods. It’s making me keep an eye out more for them, especially if one starts wondering into our neighborhood … yeah, it can happen … seriously.

In a three day weekend, I found myself in that spring meltdown energy.  I chipped down most of my driveway (big pile of ice at the road needs a few visits still).  The den got as much work as I can do without figuring out what to do with a few things … but also realizing I should have painted it before I begun but … so what, something to do later.  It rains now, but later we will go for a walk, seeing if the trails a mile from the house are clear enough to get a hike in.

If I don’t sneak in a blog tomorrow (which I might, but not with my luck), have a happy and safe new year everyone.

Today is called the hibernal solstice the day when Anchoragites see the least amount of sunshine and experience the longest night of the year. Thanks to the 23º tilt of the Earth’s axis, areas north of the Arctic Circle go without sunshine through the depth of winter. We’re fortunate here in Anchorage we still get just over 5 hours a day of sunlight during mid-winter.  5 hours, 27 minutes to be exact.  Here’s some things to put our day into perspective for those of you in sunnier climates.  Sunrise officially took place at 10:14AM, and Sunset at 3:42PM.  So, take a look outside tomorrow at about those times, and knows that here the sun isn’t even above the horizon.  Especially you folks down in Kansas & Texas & Alabama, where you still get not much less sunlight than you do during the summer — this could jump out at you. 

Because the days were shorter due to the tilt of the earth, even the sunrise doesn’t really mean the sun is “high”.  At 1PM (the ‘Solar Noon’) the sun will be 5.5° above the horizon.  For that, stick your hand straight out in front of you then turn it so your thumb is sticking up … your fingers are at the horizon, and your thumb is higher than “high noon” sun.

Since the day I moved to Anchorage, what was a constant reminder of how far north I was became evident each night when it seemed to get darker sooner and sooner.  When I arrived in Anchorage, the day lasted nearly 17 hours.  As big of a number that is, just think of the transition – for August, September, October, and most of November we lost between 5 & 6 minutes of daylight a day; that’s 40 minutes of daylight per week.  I still remember one of the early weekends in August, when I was stumbling home from the bar at Midnight and there was still some daylight in the sky.  You could easily lose track of time when I would go bounding out into the forest in September then when I felt hungry I looked down to find my watch was saying it was 9pm.  As the year went along, the changes were more dominant.  First seeming like it was just yesterday I was finishing dinner in sunlight, now its dark when I start it.  Or a 5am sunrise one day meant lights were on on the drive in the next.  For the most part, I am used to it being dark when I head to work, dark when I head home, and light only for a brief time when I take the pup out at lunch.

This darkness can be a grind, it can zap your energy, it can change your mood, but that all starts to adjust tomorrow.  There is officially 12 seconds more of daylight on December 22nd then today.  But remember, its going to accelerate — by Christmas we will have gained 2 minutes, by 2013 we gained 11 minutes, and in a month we will be seeing over 35 minutes of extra daylight gained per week.  They say come February it becomes very noticeable, and you get the urge to spend your time outside even in the snow.  It becomes this acceleration to the summer and the warmth & beauty that comes with it.

But for today, we revel in the longest night of the year, and celebrate the true start of winter.  I am celebrating the new & old ways:
1) Geocaching event at near to solar noon (it is a part solstice event, and part ‘survival of the apocolypse’ event)
2) Auggie graduates from his first Puppy class (and I do mean ‘first’, just because he graduates does it mean he knows enough to be a puppy)
3) Going to raise a glass to the end of the world with folks down at the irish pub … cause with a night this long, I’m going to need a drink.

By the way, it snowed in Anchorage.  Like … a lot.

When I left for the slope a couple weeks back, there was maybe an inch or two on the ground, but there were more than a few spots of ground you could see past the white stuff.  In November, we got so little of anything that we had just 20% of the total moisture we typically see in that month.  December wasn’t much different, because we had nothing coming into last week.  Then the skies opened up.

Coming home on Tuesday afternoon we had enough on the ground that you can make the little walls along the sidewalks.  Then, the snow really started to fall.  Nine inches on Wednesday, a couple more as the week continued, and now it appears we are guaranteed a white Christmas.  The pup is a little freaked by it all, he goes outside and he has to dig down to get to whatever he smells.

I’ve been slow to post mostly because of the pup.  Hard to get free time with the little pooper, between his puppy training, puppy classes, and his constant nudging me for attention — only can finish this up tonight because he fell asleep next to me (which, yes, is awfully cute, but still … a nice break).

Other than getting back into the swing of things, there wasn’t much else to report.  Folks around work are heading out on their holiday vacations.  Because I haven’t been with the company long enough, I work through the holidays with just a day off on the big ones.

I am wrapping up my Christmas letter – which I will post here for everyone to read on Christmas Eve.  If you aren’t one of my usual suspects to get a Christmas card, want your own personalized Christmas card (and don’t assume that means anything more than a snoopy card with a hand written “ho ho ho”), drop me a note and I will get it in the mail.

Hello from the furthest North I ever blogged.  I am 250 miles north of the Arctic Circle for a week on the slope (aka The North Slope, aka Greater Prudhoe Bay, aka the BP operations in the Alaskan Arctic).  I am sitting in a “camp” called the Prudhoe Bay Operations Center (PBOC).  This is one of many camps that act as living and working quarters for the people who come to the slope, and is one of the most recommended locations.  This is the second time I’ve been to the slope, but the first time was just a day trip and this time I am staying over.  But don’t think to mistake it as a vacation destination.

There’s the obvious reasons, like the cold.  It’s -10°F today for a high temperature, and eventhough the winds are fairly slow (3-5 mph), its still enough to push the wind chill down to -22°F.  Snow is everywhere you can see, not that snow is falling much here, it’s just that when it falls it stays.  This time of year, noone goes outside unless they are heading from one building to another, and even the shortest of drives requires you to warm up the truck first.  Not to mention … its dark out there.  I took a picture today at 1:30pm and the sun maybe was up beyond the clouds but I doubt it. 

Even if you wanted to vacation here, you couldn’t.  PBOC is on the BP Lease, and used strictly for the buisness of producing oil on the slope.  The residents are either employees working at facilities or those in offices or buisnesses supporting the work here.  Most work  for two weeks straight before getting two weeks off straight.  But when they here, they work 12 hour shifts, either 6AM-6PM or 6PM-6AM.  When people are at BPOC, it’s about eating, sleeping, and recovering for the next day.

PBOC itself wouldn’t be mistaken for a hotel either.  From the outside, PBOC looks as temporary as a high-tech trailer park.  It (and nearly every building on the slope) was built up from modules that would fit on the back of a semi.  It also sits up on risers (I’m not really sure why, but it look slike it can be pulled alway by sled dogs).  The layout on the outside appears like a space station, with a central pod going one direction and a series of wings extending out from the center. 

The rooms are very small, enough room for a single bed, a small desk, a closet, and a half a walkway to get to the door.  You share the bathroom with the room next door, and it comes with a TV hanging over the bed.  It’s not really “my room” anyway.  Nearly every room is assigned to one worker that is here in one of those swings.  When people like me come along, we fit into one of those gaps when the person in the room is offslope.  My guy is named Skip.

The place feels a bit old, a collegue describes it as going back to the 70’s (complete with an electric wurlitzer organ, wood panelling, and those plastic signs where the lettering relief … I don’t know what they are called … but I think 70s when I see them).  But it has some interesting twists.  There is a basketball court, a commesary, and even a movie theature.  The real highlight is the dining hall — because somehow they put out some great meals three times a day, with fresh veggies/fruit, fresh fish, good quality meats, and a well used ice cream machine. 

The point of PBOC isn’t to replace home, or make you feel like you are back where you come from.  It’s there to take care of your needs while you’re at work.  A bed, a bath, a warm meal.  It helps people get through the long days and long nights.  It’s the lifeboat of the Eastern Prudhoe Bay operating area.

And it will be my home until Tuesday.