Our Greatest Frontier

By Mark W. Danielson

I love Alaska. Over twice the size of Texas, it’s by far our greatest frontier. Everything is different there. Accessibility. Climate. Auroras. Most of all, attitude. Certainly, its remoteness contributes to that. Being a half a continent away makes it difficult for Washington to enforce their rules. And since most locations are only accessible by air, even the FAA has a milder policy toward Alaskan pilots.

Perhaps the thing I like most about Alaska is the Anchorage newspaper, which brims with local news. And why shouldn’t it? Who cares about events in other states? Its proximity warrants attention to Russian events, but immigration on the southern US borders carries little interest. To understand what I’m saying, I thought I’d share a few examples of actual headlines from the Anchorage Daily News.

Mountain Bikers Fend Off Grizzly Attack Near Hope. Now, this is an interesting headline because in most states, a “grizzly attack” would mean someone got knifed in a dark alley, in which case they might be closer to death than Hope. This biker’s problems began when he came across a grizzly bear with cubs. Like most moms, bears will stop at nothing to protect their young. In spite of being pounced on and bitten, this biker managed to fend off the bear with determination and bear spray, which I presume is standard equipment, comparable to carrying an American Express Card in LA.

Poor Run Shuts Down Nushagak King Fishery. Don’t you just love these Alaskan names? Actually, Nushagak is a river, and the king salmon have been so over-fished that the Alaskan Department of Fish and Game ended all king salmon fishing – even on catch-and-release. How about that? Alaska has a proactive state agency. What a concept.

Bear Grabs Bunny; Owner Gives Chase. Hey, I’m not making this up! The story goes: “A black bear snatched up a partially paralyzed pet rabbit from the owner’s yard and the rabbit’s owner gave chase. But she couldn’t rescue her bunny, named George, from the teeth of the bear.” Is this person nuts? My thought was God was calling this bunny home and the bear was his messenger. Kind of a win-win situation. And for some reason, the bear ignored the bunny owner’s cries to, “Stop! Stop! Give me him!” Now, if I were to write that into a story, no one would ever publish my work again.

Landing Jetliner’s Wing Hits Passenger Bridge. Okay, here’s one for the exaggeration-with-little-content category. “The United Airlines 757 struck a passenger bridge [meaning the off-loading bridge that extends from the terminal] after landing in Anchorage.” Please . . . It’s not like this 757 struck the Bay Bridge while attempting to land in Oakland. Amazingly, “Those on board were able to safely exit the plane.” Duh. The plane wasn’t going more than five miles per hour when it hit. Good old sensationalism at its best. Keep that in mind when you write. It may initially draw the reader in, but ultimately it will backfire.

Commercial Fishermen Report Strong Returns of Bristol Bay Sockeye. In keeping with the newspaper’s sensationalist policy, this article was posted on the back page while the one about the Nushagak fishery closing down was on the front page. Interesting, isn’t it?

So, there you go. One day’s worth of local news direct from Anchorage, only delayed by a few weeks. You can learn a lot from papers like this, like how locals interact, and what they are engaged in. If you’re writing about a particular location, newspapers can be a good source of understanding. It’s also interesting to note Alaska’s wilderness connection. The news may offer a different perspective from the ones on travel agency videos. The bottom line is know what you’re writing about before you ever touch the keyboard. If you don’t, it can bite like a bear.

Puff the Magic Dragon

By Mark W. Danielson

The song said Puff the Magic Dragon lived in Hanalei, and while controversy remains over whether this song is about a dragon befriending a child or one about drugs, I’m taking a different approach, claiming that Puff is really a magical volcano who created Hanalei’s birthplace in Kauai, pictured above. But my tale is really about a much bigger picture, for our world has many “puffs”. The Ring of Fire that encircles our globe is alive and well with fire-spitting volcanoes and ground-splitting earthquakes. Take away the fear and the subject becomes fascinating.

A few years ago I was writing a novel about an earthquake on California’s Hayward Fault. This fault parallels the infamous San Andreas and is just as deadly. In fact, one could argue that a major quake on the Bay Area’s Hayward Fault could cause more chaos than one of the same magnitude on the San Andreas. To get a sense of this, I visited the University of California, Berkeley’s seismology lab, which sits directly atop the Hayward Fault. The seismologists there showed me how they and the US Geological Survey both monitor the Earth’s pulse 24/7. During a follow-on visit to USGS’ Golden, Colorado, branch, I witnessed a major earthquake in South America that killed over five hundred people. It was numbing to watch, knowing that all they could do was pinpoint the epicenter and accumulate data. Whether volcanoes or earthquakes, seismologists may warn that something is imminent, but there is nothing anyone can do to prevent it.

Right now, the Ring of Fire is quite active, but its cycle is endless. Seismic events are the result of constantly shifting tectonic plates riding over a magma core. As such, we should welcome the smaller “Earth adjustments”, for they relieve pressure and help prevent larger ones. The quakes and volcanoes we hear about in the news do not signal the end of the world, but rather create life, as they did in the Hawaiian Islands. Only our ever-increasing population has made these natural occurrences so devastating.

Alaska’s Mount Redoubt is an example of a volcano that has caused serious economic ramifications, even though all it’s done is huff and puff. Located near Anchorage, this volcano has yet to blow the house down, and yet its talcum-like fallout has caused countless flight cancellations because it can damage jet engines. As a major Asian transportation hub, whenever the volcano re-routes flights, Anchorage’s economy takes a huge hit, as do businesses like FedEx, UPS, Northwest Airlines, Alaskan Airlines, and many foreign carriers. Normally the FedEx ramp has eight to twelve airplanes parked there, but mine was the only one when I flew it in the other day. The next day we had three planes, but I had to be at the airport two hours ahead of time in case the volcano blew. These days, Mount Redoubt has made it a crap shoot for airline operations into or out of Anchorage.

Lately, there has been a lot of talk about global warming. No doubt we can do a lot more to clean up our air and use our fuels more efficiently. However, one large volcano eruption can send enough pollutants into the atmosphere to block the sun and there is nothing we can do to prevent it. I don’t mean to cause alarm, but rather remind people that our mountains, canyons, plains, and seas are all the result of ancient seismic activity. To put it bluntly, our planet is as stable as a suicide bomber, so accept it.

The best non-fiction fiction book I’ve ever read is Michael Crichton’s State of Fear. To this day, I’ve never seen another novel with such an extensive bibliography and footnotes. If you have any questions about the Ring of Fire, then read this book for its entertainment value, and then review the bibliography for its available resources.

Perhaps the biggest lesson here is to understand that mankind is no match for Mother Nature. As such, rather than panic or worry as the media would have us do, we should be grateful for every day we have. As a writer, I take pleasure in jotting things down to document the things I’ve witnessed. As a husband and father, I do my best to enjoy the time I have with my family. Each day we make the choice of either living or going through the motions. Since no one can predict what tomorrow will bring, then live for today while planning for the future. Most importantly, don’t sweat the things you can’t control.

(All photos courtesy of Paul Danielson)

Midnight Flight to Fairbanks

by Jean Henry Mead

We left Seattle, Washington, one cold early spring night on a midnight flight to Fairbanks. Our daughter Lynda had recently moved there with her husband and invited us for a visit. We were unprepared for the unusual trip, to say the least.

Why the only plane for Fairbanks left at midnight remains a mystery, but it was immedaitely obvious that Alaskans were the only other passengers. Dressed in plaid wool shirts and mucklucks, they immediately reclined, stretching their legs across the aisle into the opposite seats. They soon fell asleep. Ever try accessing the restroom in the rear of the plane under those circumstances?

I had flown many times before but was nervous about this flight, probably because it was Friday the 13th. I couldn’t sleep so I watched the snow covered terrain, forming an escape plan in case we had an emergency landing. My husband slept through the entire flight.

We experienced a bumpy landing and no one was there to greet us at the terminal. A miscommunication had us landing at four that afternoon. So we hung around the airport until after six that morning when we called our daughter, who came to pick us up. While we were there, Lynda's mother-in-law tried to talk us into a partnership in an RV repair shop. The 1,390 mile long ALCAN Highway was still a gravel road and recreational vehicles were usually in bad shape by the time they reached civilization. Fortunately, we declined because it wasn't long before the ALCAN was paved.

We were there during the four-day World Eskimo-Indian Olympics which we thoroughly enjoyed. Then held in March, it has since been moved to mid-July in Fairbanks. Natives from not only Alaska, but the Pacific Northwest and Canada compete in traditional contests which include some unusual events such as knuckle hopping, ear-pulling, Alaskan high kicking, Eskimo stick pulling and nalukatak or blanket toss. It's said that age and wisdom often defeat the young and strong, and we were witness to just that.

The Race of the Torch, a five kilometer road race, is held during the festivities and run by both male and female contestants. The winner earns the honor of lighting the WEIO torch for that year and a pretty Miss WEIO is crowned. All daytime events are free to the public but you'd better have your wallet handy for nighttime activities. Among them were dances, races and games.

Traditional native dancers perform throughout the games as well as every night. A potlatch, or pot luck supper, is served with traditional native foods. And we were glad to be there during early spring before Alaska’s native bird, the mosquito, emerged from hibernation.

Before we left, we saw Santa’s workshop at North Pole, Alaska, a few miles north of Fairbanks, and were disappointed that it wasn’t open that time of year. The old gentleman must have been on an extended vacation. We flew home with a huge, beautiful dark blue Alaskan flag and carved wooden Eskimo figure that is still here on display. We’ll return to Alaska one day, armed with plenty of mosquito repellant and enough film to capture the wonder and beauty of our northernmost state. We may even stop by Wasilla.