YOU CAN’T TAKE ALASKA OUT OF THE GIRL AND THE GREAT POLAR BEAR PLUNGE

I held my camera between the openings of the chain link fence as I watched the Alaska Airlines 737-combi land and approach the terminal the morning of July 3, a momentous day for me as my sister, Sandi, and nephews, Stefan and Michael, were on the last leg of their trip from Pennsylvania to Barrow for a three day visit.  I don’t cry easily, but I couldn’t help feeling my throat and chest tighten and a few tears run down my cheeks as I stood there and thought about their coming.

Sandi, our brothers Don, Nels and I were raised in Fairbanks, approximately 550 miles south of Barrow.  The memories of growing up there in the log house our parents, Don and Diane Peterson and Dad’s best friend, Bayne Hunter, built have held a special place in all of our hearts, I think.  We built tree forts, ran through the woods, found tree frogs, watched Dad make burn piles of the brush he cleared from our lot, picked what seemed like endless amounts of rocks from the dirt picnic area Mom and Dad created next to our house and played kick the can until late at night in the sun that still shone at 11:00 pm during the summer months.  We had cousins and friends who joined in the fun and we laughed until some of us sounded like we were barking…it was that much fun!  In the winter our parents gave us flashlights in order to be able to see where we were going when walking the half mile to the Steese Highway where the school bus picked us up.  Our favorite route was down the long driveway of one of our neighbors and then down a fairly steep winding trail through the tall, white birch trees.  Because the trail was packed with snow, we were able to lie on our backs, hold our books in our arms and slide down head first in the slippery jackets Mom bought for us.  Our faces were kept warm by the fur ruffs she had sewn on our hoods. 

Our family moved to Anchorage in 1972 where we experienced the beauty of a backdrop of mountains and the magic of Cook Inlet.  Memories of both places filled my years in Washington.  By the time we lived in Anchorage, Sandi and my voices harmonized nicely when washing and drying the dishes together.  My favorite Christmas song will always be “Oh, Holy Night.”  Just thinking about it makes me smile.  Sandi and I took long walks after the dishes were done, meandering on the snow covered roads and occasionally bursting into song.  This one in particular found us falling on our knees during a certain verse, making it even more memorable.  And there were snow angels to be made, laying in fresh snow and moving our arms and legs like wipers on a wet car windshield.   

It’s been many years since Sandi has visited Alaska.  Stefan spent time in Anchorage several years ago and Michael had never been north of Seattle, so a stop in Fairbanks before coming to Barrow and a stop in Anchorage on the way home gave them all some new exciting memories.  The last text I received from her on a trip to Alyeska, a ski resort outside of Anchorage, was that there was a black bear in the parking lot and about her plea with the boys to take the ski lift up.  It sounded like they were there to have the total Alaskan experience, so all pleading aside found Sandi joining Stefan and Michael up a very arduous path to the top.  They joined a young couple and from what I remember Sandi texting me, the person in the lead was responsible for singing and otherwise making noise to deter any close encounters with the bear.  It sounds like the view from the top was worth the trek and that even Stefan and Michael were in favor of using the lift on the way down.   

It was heart-warming seeing how much Sandi enjoyed being back in Alaska and in Barrow.  She appeared happy to be breathing the Arctic air and taking in all that there is to absorb about life on the tundra on the edge of the Beaufort and Chukchi Seas on the northern-most coast.  She expressed many times that she felt so at home during the three days she, Stefan and Michael were here and how much it reminded her of Nome.  It was so gratifying spending three days together talking about our early lives in Alaska and seeing her joy at being “home”.  Someone recently shared the thought that “you can take the girl out of Alaska, but you can’t take Alaska out of the girl…”  It was fun to see that this is so true and to think that Sandi was enjoying Barrow as much as I do. 

I had been nervous that Stefan and Michael might experience culture shock upon arrival.  There are no trees or sidewalks in Barrow and it lacks many of the things they are used to enjoying as a part of their daily lives in Pennsylvania.  The thought of them not enjoying themselves weighed somewhat on my mind.  I soon discarded all sense of worry seeing their fairly constant smiles, hearing their insightful and generous observations when out on our walks through the community and watching them run along the sand berms above the beach. 

I’ve experienced much of Barrow, but hadn’t taken in a few of the most popular tourist spots including Pepe’s, North of the Border Restaurant and the Top of the World Hotel.  We had a very good dinner at Pepe’s and enjoyed exploring the spacious lobby at the hotel.  Michael’s comment made me laugh, “welcome to Barrow, Aunt Susi…”  I imagine there are still many unexplored aspects of Barrow.  I’ll hope that another visit from family or friends pushes me past my normal routine and causes me to discover them. 

Bertrand, my co-worker and office mate, suggested that the fourth of July would be a good time for a family visit.  His advice was good.  Activities included a parade with decorated cars and trucks, huge state-of-the-art fire trucks and the city bus, all with drivers and passengers who tossed handfuls of candy out to waiting children and their Akka’s.  If one is fortunate enough to have an Akka (grandmother) in Barrow, she will, in most cases, be your strongest advocate in all arenas of life including standing in the front lines to get you sweets.

At Simmond’s Field, a cleared dirt area just west of the post office, races of all sorts for all different age groups were held.  My favorite to watch were the toddlers who hadn’t caught the concept of racing yet, so were coached by family and friends from behind and ahead to out walk/run their little counterparts.  Several times I heard a judge say “the race is for the kids!” meaning that parental involvement was a little too obvious.  It was also heart-warming to watch the seniors race--walking, some with canes, on a course half the distance as the regular one, with much encouragement from the crowd.  One women fell and most of the seniors turned back toward where she was while others rushed in to make sure she was alright.   I got the feeling that racing is about community, laughing and doing your best and not so much about winning.

Stefan found the funnel cake booth where one of my co-workers, Liliana, and her husband, Cruz, were making and selling this hot, sugar-coated treat.  Great smiles while he waited for and enjoyed one of their creations.  It was fun seeing so many of the community gathered in one place, enjoying the activities and good weather. 

We didn’t stay long at Simmonds Field the first day we went as Stefan and Michael were anxious to return to the apartment for towels.  They certainly possess the Alaskan spirit, deciding that they wanted to do what the locals and some tourists here call “The Polar Bear Plunge”.  Normally one signs up for the experience of walking into the Arctic Ocean, dunking and running back to shore with either Tundra Tours, Top of the World Hotel or Pepe’s, although I haven’t determined which yet.  One pays a fee to have the plunge certified, has pictures taken and receives an official-looking document.  Stefan and Michael didn’t seem interested in recognition or certification, just in the pure experience.  Sandi and I both donned in our warm down jackets, videoed them undressing, running down the shore in the cold breeze, into the water and out to a nearby ice berg.  Replaying my video I can hear a stream of “wow, amazing, I don’t believe it…wow!” and lots of laughter.  Stefan and Michael climbed up onto the iceberg stood for what seemed like a long time, did a one hand victory hand clap, climbed down and walked/swam back to the shore.  I wasn’t able to upload the video for the blog, but have posted a few of the pictures.  We learned later that the water temperature that day was approximately 38 degrees F. I can definitely see their Alaskan ancestors smiling down on their courage and sense of adventure.