No other way to do this, but to rip the band-aid off and break the news.

I am leaving Alaska.

This is not a joke, or a wise crack, or a hidden message.  Today I put a notice in at my employer after I accepted a position in the Lower 48.

The nuts and bolts of it is, as much as I loved being up here in Anchorage for these last two years, the job never turned out to be what I hoped it to be.  You can do a lot outside of work to make yourself happy, but when work doesn’t make you happy it’s hard to say you have a happy time.  While, except for an opportunity here or there, I didn’t do anything to put myself back on the job market.  Then when this position came along, I was so honored to be considered, I just couldn’t ignore it when the offer came.

For the position, the pup and I (yes, Auggie is coming with) are moving to the Boston area.  I had a the choice a few places to move to, and settled on Boston for the same reason I mentioned above – best opportunity to enjoy work and life.  At this point of time, I don’t know specifically where I will live – and probably won’t for some time.  I will be in a temporary place for a few weeks after I arrive, then go month-to-month in an apartment until I can settle on a permanent home.  My desire is actually living in Boston Metro, inside of T-Line access so I can go where I want when I want.  It’s a long ways from being in the woods of Alaska, but I know that is a place that I can find happiness in living (you see a trend here?).

I took a position with Bodycote LLC – a worldwide leader in heat treating.  I will be the North American Corporate Quality Manager for Aerospace, Defense, and Energy — a position that is mostly in support for the regional division, but will be responsible for the quality system management of fifteen plants around the USA.  The position fills a vacancy left by the retirement of Bob Lenhan, who to me was an icon in the Aerospace Heat Treating industry for as long as I knew him – to be filling his shoes will be a huge task, but knowing what he did and what the role requires I know that I will be very happy in the role itself.   For the most part, the position is a point of contact for Bodycote to the Quality stakeholders at major customers and to sit on organizations to represent the corporation’s interests.  For those of you know knew me back in Kansas, this role has many ties to what I was doing there – I will be returning to Nadcap meetings, will be back in Aerospace, will be back into heat treating.

The timing is still being worked out, however, I can give some parts of it.  By the first weekend in October, Auggie and I will be in the RAV4 and heading south.  It’s a bit of a risk to leave in Autumn, but when I got this opportunity I wanted to make sure that when I relocated I got to drive down.  I’ve always been a road trip fan, and coming down on the Alaska Highway is a road trip to end all road trips.

I am sure there will be loads of additional posts to come giving details and all that, but will leave it at this for now.  The Bear Feed will live on, but different … Probably more of an Idiot Bear in a Big City.  In the meantime, watch for any updates from me on what’s going down.

 

This is your official warning — this is a post about politics, specifically Alaska politics.  I hate talking politics, but against better judgement I am covering a hot Alaskan topic.  So move along if you have no desire to read it.

If you are an Alaska resident reading this blog, I am not here to tell you which way to vote and hate bloggers who think they can tell you what to vote on, so I am going to be quick and to the point:
“Yes” on No. 1 Returns to ACES
“No” on No. 1 Keeps SB 21 (or MAPA).
Election Day is August 19th
Now head on out to your regularly scheduled non-political summer fun / moose spotting, and ignore the rest of this post.

For the rest of you in the Lower 48 let me start off with a couple of quick comments about Alaska Politics.

1. Alaska politics is different than what you have, and you don’t understand Alaska Politics.
2. Even if you think you understand Alaska politics, you don’t understand Alaska Politics.

Don’t assume that an Alaska politician is nothing but folksy people shooting bears, staring in reality TV, and judge themselves on whether or not anyone can see Russia.  Yes, Alaskan politicians tend to be more “of the people” than in the Lower 48 – just by the nature of so much of the state that is represented is small villages and towns.  Yet their job requires them to be on top of international relationships, mega-billion dollar corporations, and the most wealth rich resources in North America.  There is nothing to prepare the common Alaskan for that kind of responsibility.

On the books for an upcoming election is a proposition that typifies the challenge faced.  That is “Prop #1”, an effort to repeal Senate Bill  No. 21 [or the More Alaska Production Act (MAPA)] in place of Alaska’s Clear & Equable Share (ACES) act of 2007.  But first a little background.

The greatest source of money in Alaska is Oil.  Okay, maybe you knew that, but how much is the crazy thing.  On average these days, they pull 500,000 barrels of oil out of the ground per day.  Based on current crude prices that means there is nearly 19 Billion Dollars of oil leaving Alaska this year alone.  Part of that number ends up going into the cost of producing it & turning it into stuff like gasoline, part of that goes to the oil field lease owners (a native Alaskan corporation – thus there are no need for casinos here), but a large chunk is collected in taxes.  So much so that BP Exploration – Alaska alone pays for 40% of the State of Alaska’s Discretionary Revenue each year out of the taxes they pay.

There are a couple problems though, the biggest is that the oil production is declining.  When oil first started coming down the pipeline, it was humming at 2 million barrels a day.  The oil was so ready to jump out of the ground that they basically just poked holes and up it came.  You pull that much oil out of the ground, and the flow rate slows.  That’s not an Alaskan thing, that’s a hard fact about all oil wells, production just slows as the oil field gets older.  There are ways to overcome it, for instance Alaska’s oil is rich in Natural Gas, and since the pipeline can’t handle it (and there isn’t anyone up there to buy the gas) they pressurize it and pump it back into the ground.  Pumps can be put down well, and water can be sent down too.  Extending production, though is really about sinking money back into the field to get as much out of it.  Oil field management always is about return on investment; and because taxes can impact between 30 & 50% of the cost of oil, it carries a big concern in the investment you make.

The decline was in full swing about ten years ago, and the old tax system was a major hurdle.  Politicians saw this in 2006 and passed a pretty low tax rate bill.  Like, extremely low tax rate.  Turns out it was too low.  Way too low.  So low that the FBI showed up and found out that some un-kosher things were going on; and a number  people ended up in jail.

Most of those politicians were run out, and a more ‘anti-big company’ legislatures came in, including a small town Governor intent to return to a higher tax system to get corporations under control – named Sarah Palin (chances are you have heard of her).  She instituted in 2007 ACES, a plan that gave some incentive for capital investments but focused more on a progressive tax system that return more money to the state when the big companies are making the most profit.  It would have theoretically worked if the price of oil stayed around $70/barrel.  Which it didn’t (it’s currently $103/barrel).  The decline worsened and a shale oil boom in North Dakota & Texas made Alaska non-competitive for the available investment money.  Alaska was losing production faster than anyone expected.

In 2013, Governor Palin’s replacement Governor introduced a bill (SB 21 or MAPA) to set everything at a flat tax rate, but give greater incentives for capitol investments.  It flipped the tax system in the other direction.  However, there is a question if it is too much of a break.  The truth is, noone can really know because we can’t predict either what the price of oil will do, or how quickly the oil will decline in the future.

Of course there were opponents of the new bill.  Some opponents, upset by the new system, felt that it was just giving too much of the oil money out of Alaskan’s hands and into the oil company’s hands.  So after a successful petition campaign, a proposition on this month’s election would allow that law to be repealed.  In other words, they put the decision into the hands of the voters.

This means — it’s on this month’s ballot — and because it’s a political thing, it is ugly.

Supporters of the repeal are mostly funded by organizations who also fund equal pay initiatives – meaning there is not that much financial support even if there is considerable backing by voters.  On the flip side, those against this repeal include every oil company, and every company tied to oil production in Alaskan … or … all of them.  It’s said that the “no” campaign is outspending the “yes” campaign by a factor of over 10 to 1.  As much as this should make people upset that one side is spending more than the other, most on both sides are saying “if I stood to make a couple hundred million dollars, I could see affording to spend a few thousand”.

You can bet that working in a company that has a pretty big dog in the fight, we hear about this proposition quite often … and by quite often I mean, you don’t go anywhere without seeing information or media to support a “No on No. 1” vote.  But I kinda shuck it off.  I am voting, I know how I will vote, but that’s not my company’s buisness to know.

So there … that’s the hot news up this way … now let’s get back to random pictures of my dog and other fun moose stuffs.

Anchorage passed a key point in the year today.  From sunrise to sunset is 16 hours, meaning there is 8 hours of night.  We have passed into the period where you can sleep during “nighttime”.  Sure there is twilight going on, but in the last couple of weeks we have moved out of the time of year when it never really gets dark.  Now, it is dark for hours.  In fact, I started using lights in my house again.  It’s actually the time of year where I learn that I don’t turn off lights enough — because it is bright enough in the evening that I may turn on a light and not notice it is still on until about 2AM when the darkness outside makes that closet light a laser beam into my eyes.

With the return of darkness there returns something you don’t know you miss until it’s back.  Sunrises and Sunsets.  For the most part, the sun heads down quite unremarkably at the end of the day.  We can catch a day or two when it sneaks behind Mt. Susitna, a large glacial remnant as it silhouettes the sleeping lady across the Anchorage bowl.  The colors it brings, all with its yellows and oranges, are nice and comforting, if not warm for the summer eve.

What really stands out are the sunrises.  This time of year is also the start of our rainy season.  While it isn’t raining constantly, the threat is there constantly with grey clouds hanging overhead day in and day out.  We also start seeing Chinooks from the Chugachs – or huge breaks in the clouds at the edge of the mountains where varying pressure by changes in elevation plays with the saturation of the sky.

What that REALLY means is that when the sun comes up this time of year, the sky is lit aflame.  The reds and oranges from the rising sun pierces through the clouds to the west of the mountain tops well before it breaks over the rocks itself.  It streaks between the grays, the blacks, the whites; influencing the hues with it’s new morning light.  Every morning, as I start my day, I look up out to the east and watch the new colors between the spaces of sky where the clouds start and where the night ends.  While one could argue this is just another sign that we are a step closer to the end of summer and the beginning of winter, I’ll take this burning air. It is the color and beauty the sky can create if you just get a chance to see it at the right time.  And that is something to hold onto for as long as you can.

Somewhere between my days growing up in small town Wisconsin or years and years of being an engineer, I’ve grown into … well, let’s be honest here … into a “square”.  To go to a music festival that is basically considered to be the Burning Man of Alaska would easily tag me as “out of place” in the most reserved description.  But that was what was on tap these last few days.

Salmonstock is a three day music festival at the Kenai Fair Grounds in Ninilchek, AK.  It hosted three stages of music playing for nearly 12 hours a day, plus a mix of food trucks and art sales booths throughout.  The festival is a fund raiser for Renewable Resource Foundation, an organization to help protect salmon spawning grounds & fishing waters from man-made threats, and has a deep focus on stopping the Pebble Mine project in the Bristol Bay region.  During the festival, there is a number of activist organizations and political groups attempting to garner support for a variety of environmentalist programs.  So here’s the deal – I love music, I love festivals like this, but let’s just say the politic side didn’t gain a supporter in me this weekend.  In fact, it was a running joke that when I ran into a fellow BP employee at the event, we would act like they could lynch us for being the enemy.  But then again, my liver felt like jumping parties after the beating I gave it this weekend.

Festivals like this are stuff of legend in my mind.  I mean, I heard people talk about events where you park your tent in some field and come & go to different stages all day long.  Especially when you have an event like this that seems to draw the ‘great unwashed’ complete in their tie-dyed cottons, their dreadlocks, and their willingness to share whatever little “feel goods” they brought with them for the weekend.    Since it was still rural Alaska, there was still a fair bit of rural Alaskan performers and attendees.  There were as many families and fishermen there for the country music as there were hemp sandals dancing to the indie rockers.

One thing I always heard about festivals like that were “the guys”.  It’s the people who get nicknames for being or dressing in some way.  I liked the idea so much I kept snapping selfies of “the guys” that I saw.  Checking my phone now, I seemed to capture:
– The sousaphone guy
– The wolf pelt boys
– Dorthy (from the Wizard of Oz, okay not a guy, but still awesome)
– Cute Security Girl
and last but not least:
– Neon Octopus
My selfies didn’t end there.  Twice I ran into performers hanging out after their show.  One of them was part the reason I came down to Salmonstock; and I went full on fan-boy gushing about her songs.

Probably the thing I walked away with from this event was really how the ‘politics’ inter played with the actual event.  I assumed there would be protests or banners or placards being held – and while there were booths on certain things there wasn’t any thing outwardly negative (except for the fact that I did get pepper sprayed, but I would bet that is my own fault).  Sure there was a cause, and sure there were people pushing causes everywhere.  The messages, though, were always positive.  Like … ALWAYS.  So many talked about their love for Alaska, their love for the Alaskan way of life, and how salmon are a part of that.  And that’s where it would stop.  Not the same old political rhetoric of ‘hate this guy so vote for me’, but ‘support us supporting this’.  And it didn’t stop at politics.  People loved the music, whatever it was.  People loved the food.  People loved each other.  Yeah, I know, a hippie love fest; but it’s hard not to feel good about a place or a time when everything that is there is essentially good.

So I rolled on home, peeled off the tie-dye, & washed the pepper spray from my eyes.  I was happy to have had that experience, happy to have been around so many great people, and happy to return back to my same old square life.

It smelt Alaskan, that was what I told myself.  It was a mixture of mossy green and pine; a smell I can still smell when I close my eyes and remember that place.  When I picture that small apartment with a tiny front room, breakfast bar, and a king size bed that swallowed up the bedroom; the first thing I can remember was that smell.  There was a small overgrown lot behind the place, fenced off with razor wire so that it isn’t turned into a tent village, but was much of the source of the smell.  Just finishing a two week span of 100° heat in dry Kansas, this cool wet air in the apartment beckoned me to find a new comfort.  I breathed it in shortly after leaving the airport.  It was a rainy day, but now that it cleared it remained wet, overcast, and some clouds rolled along the Chugach peaks.  As I pulled up to the apartment in a cheap rental car, I approached the door in blind faith.  I had two numbers in an e-mail, one for the key lock of the front door, one for apartment door – my apartment door.  When the lock opened I stepped inside, and I started my residency in Alaska.  There was nothing impressive about the little apartment I had for a temporary span; but it was my safe harbor on what was the greatest upheaval in my life since moving out of my home of 18 years to a college in a different state light years away from all that I knew.

That was two years ago this past weekend.

The  soundtrack in my head those days were full of energy and bravery.  I was looking for that chance to run forth into the great unknown and walk the line between where I controlled my world and the world controlled me.  In days I had my first run-in with a bear, in weeks my first run-in with a moose, and I chased the end of summer that came all too quickly those first few weeks with a pace that was exciting and relentless.  That wasn’t all.  I was on the cusp of a great opportunity, a job that I was unabashed to say I could “fix the world”.  I had hope, direction, and enough of the unknown to feel fear on my lips like sugar.  My wardrobe of t-shirts, ventilated hiking shoes, and loose shorts were cast off for sweaters, cargo pants, and waterproof boots; only the work clothes remained the same but they grew longer sleeved in short order.  My world immediately changed, and I changed with it into the great unknown of Alaskan future.

Things change though.  In months I moved into a house, I settled into a less rebellious routine, and even bought a dog.  That little apartment send me down the path of eating out alot, when lumped with a far more sedimentary job helped a weight gain back to when I was at my worst.  I grew a beard, shaved it, then grew it again – keeping this one for over a half of year, most of it promising myself to shave it off “this weekend”.  My work goals shifted from saving the world to saving my sanity; or probably more accurate ‘saving who I really am’.  I grew older, much older, the white in my hair becoming more pronounced, and it seems I have spent half this time up here with a bad knee or a bum ankle.  Hitting the gym is like a hell unknown to me like anything else.  I’ve lost parts of my life that I miss utterly, and wonder if I will ever get them back.

Yet there pieces of the last two years that were special were beyond special.  Rainy, snowy, dark days are only bad to me because I can’t see the mountains – the constant reminder of the purple/green beauty of this place.  Any simple drive around this state and you are welcomed by massive glaciers, tall canyons, and forests thick and full of life.  During the winter, the snow creates a blanket that is equal parts comforting and warming.  Summers may be short, but I learn every day recently how lucky we are to have it so short — every free minute I spent trying to enjoy the world outside of the glass windows and wooden walls just to make sure I don’t miss what I have.

The people, though, is what changed me the most.  Alaska is filled with the greatest variety of people I have ever lived around – from the roughest of edges to the most open of open.  They take care of themselves, but they share what they have.  They hate, love, watch, act, involve, enjoy.  What sprung from my arrival at the curling club are friendships that grew so fast and so enjoyably that I couldn’t help finding more of those friendships wherever I went.  If feels like I grow out of a shell, maybe back into a new one, but undoubtedly out of an old one.

There is an incredibly beautiful song by Bon Iver named Holocene.  It’s title comes from the geological Holocene era that started 11,700 years ago and continues today.  The concept is that point when you traveled far enough that you realized whatever road you’ve been on is insignificant in the grand scheme of things — like the 42 years of my life is nothing compared to 11,700 years of the Holocene period.  Yet the song flips it back, and says that to recognize there are some much greater things is to appreciate it.  I stand on my trail through the Alaska wilderness, long gone are the days when the mossy wet smell of Alaska permeated a tiny apartment.  Past the point where darkness enveloped the winters and light filled the summers.  Through the bad knees, the bad ankles.  I look back at these two years and the song’s lyrics come to mind: “And at once I knew I was not magnificent” — yet in those memories, in those days and nights, those many times embracing this state, I look back “and I can see for miles and miles.”