When I first moved to Alaska, it was summer, and summers in
Alaska are glorious – absolutely beautiful. However, I was warned. Winter is
coming. If you want to survive Alaska and remain a resident for longer than a
season or two, you need to find an activity that you can do during the winter
months. This meant not only having the right clothing to go outside, but having
the right clothing that would be good for staying outside for prolonged
periods. The other important piece of information I was given about living in
Alaska is that it usually isn’t the first mistake that kills you; it’s the
mistakes that follow through poor decision making.
There are a lot of winter activities that people can engage
in: skiing, cross country skiing, skijoring, snowshoeing, ice skating, and
more. Trekking through the winter wonderland that Alaska becomes is amazing in its
own right, as long as you can stay warm. Fortunately, I had a friend who introduced
me to geocaching.
Geocaching is a high-tech treasure hunt. Geocachers hide ammo cans or Tupperware, mark the coordinates and publish those at geocaching.com. Other cachers seek those boxes. They sign the log book, trade items, and enjoy the wonderful outdoors.
My friend and I had one rule about winter geocaching. If the
temperature was lower than 10 degrees Fahrenheit, we stayed at home. Living in
Anchorage the weather was relatively temperate, so those 10-degree days were
fewer and farther between than some places inland.
One Saturday, early in winter, the temperature pushed up to 10 degrees, and we got our gear together. We chose our destination, got our warm clothes on and headed out to the car. I wore plastic pants to keep melting snow from making my pants wet. They had buttons so that I could reach into my pants pockets if I had to.
We went into the park hiked around and came to a stream. It wasn’t
completely frozen over. There was ice on top, but the stream moved beneath. We
could walk to the bridge, but it was far away and I was cold. More importantly,
the arrow pointed right across the stream. I convinced my friend that we could
cross using the branch that hung below the water. It would just be a short jump.
He made it. I didn’t.
I fell through the ice. The stream ran into my plastic pants
and into my shoes. I had wool on, so I thought I should be okay. My friend knew
better. With the cache just feet away, I thought we should go get it. He said
no. We were going to go get a pizza and go home. It wouldn’t look good for a
director of health and safety (my job title at the time) to get hypothermia or
frostbite because he was too dumb not to make the second mistake.
He was right. Getting wet wasn’t really an immediate issue.
Staying out there would’ve created a bigger problem. So, we went back home. I
took a warm shower and changed into dry clothes and then we ate pizza. Geocaching
was one of two activities that I engaged in to make it through the winter.
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In Alaska, you may have to know how to protect yourself against long, dark winters and cold weather, but you do not have to know how to protect yourself against penguins, because there are no penguins in Alaska. I know because I wrote the book. Preorder the eBook on Amazon or preorder a hard copy coloring book here at penguinate.com. If you want more stories, check out “Tales at an Alaskan Cabin” on Amazon.