Battling the Cold

Growing up in Virginia, Jack London was my first introduction to the place that would ultimately be my home - rural Alaska.   Like most people, I’ve tried to forget that awkward period in my life that coincides with middle school – but I distinctly remember the first time I read London.  Mrs. Stone was my seventh grade English teacher, a gracious Southern belle with a huge smile.   She assigned us a story about a dog and unknowingly built a persistent fire within me for both reading and The Great Land.  Though I love animals, I remember thinking, How can you write an entire book about a dog? Little did I know!   The first words of that book still echo in my head, “Buck did not read the newspapers…”  The Call of the Wild remains one of my favorites. 

Since then, I’ve devoured all of London’s writing.  ToBuild a Fire is probably my favorite of his short stories.  It is a simple story - a man tries to start a fire so he doesn’t freeze to death – but it is filled with truth.  Now that I’ve experienced life in temperatures far below zero – as cold as minus 60 Fahrenheit –I’ve come to realize how well he captured the essence of survival in an arctic landscape.  Fire is truly life here.

In the winter in Alaska, even in our modern times, everything revolves around keeping warm. When you wake up in the morning, the first thing you do is check the woodstove, adding wood as necessary, or the thermostat to see if your heating system is doing its job.   Checking your outside thermometer is a very Alaskan morning ritual – as evidenced by dozens of Facebook postings from Alaskans showing thermometers on cold mornings.

Heating a house here is a constant concern.  A valid excuse not to show up at work is “My boiler isn’t working,” as it could mean frozen pipes and septic systems, exploding canned goods, and an irate spouse in a matter of hours.   Common office discussions focus on the relative merits of wood boilers, pellet stoves, oil burners, and the possibility of geothermal heat pumps in a place where the ground can freeze twenty feet deep.   Here in the Alaskan Interior, oil is burned for electricity – rendering electric heating illogical. Even though it requires a bit of mechanical know how and frequent cleaning, I’ve found my pellet boiler to be a cost-effective solution.

Chimney fires are a constant danger and claim dozens of Alaska houses every year.  My friend and neighbor just lost their dream home to one such fire, the dry logs of his home consumed in minutes.  At least he was able to save his aircraft, which he pulled from the basement garage just in time.

 As the temperature drops, folks here build their wood fires larger and burn them longer – sometimes for months at a time.   Creosote builds up faster in a cold chimney.  Our extreme weather makes keeping a chimney warm difficult, resulting in plugs of creosote and soot forming at the farthest points, choking the flue.   In mild weather, our huge stoves are often too big and have to be damped down, further promoting creosote buildup.  As a result, Alaskans have to clean our chimneys several times a winter otherwise we face a chimney fire – a daunting task when you consider our roofs are almost always covered with snow and ice.

Fighting a fire at -40F means freezing hoses and frostbit hands.  Our fire departments race on icy roads to get water to a scene before it freezes in the tank.  Most Alaskan fire departments are volunteers who leave their homes in the middle of the night to help a neighbor.  While they do their best, it is usually a losing proposition as the time it takes to get to the station, don gear, and then drive to a fire is typically greater than what is required for a structure to become completely engulfed.  Consequently, insurance rates are many times higher here than the rest of the United States.  

One fear is to wake up to a house fire in the night during the winter.  In this situation, you have to dress to go outside and hope you can do so before succumbing to smoke inhalation or becoming trapped.  Smart Alaskans stash warm clothes and boots in an outbuilding just in case. 

After ensuring your house is warm, your attention usually turns to warming up your vehicle for the morning commute.   At extreme cold temperatures, oil becomes thicker than molasses.   Plastics are brittle and metal parts contract, fitting together imprecisely.  Those without garages either trudge out in their pajamas, bedroom shoes, and a coat to turn the key or they point a remote control out the window to get the engine started.  Most people let their engines – and the cab - warm for at least fifteen minutes before driving away.   Here in Alaska, the engine and battery have electric heaters installed on them – explaining the electrical cords sticking out the front.  Many tourists or locals in a hurry forget their vehicles are plugged into an outlet and drive away– resulting Arctic blue extension cords trailing them down the highway.  Those without electricity have to get more creative starting their vehicles.  I’ve heard that people in the 1950s and 1960s would drain the oil out of their car in the evening, take it inside, warm it next to a woodstove, and then replace it in the morning.

Clothing is an obvious concern in the Northland.  Going outside requires donning layers of clothing, heavy coats, gloves, hats, and heavy boots.  This poses an interesting concern when driving or riding in a heated vehicle.  If you are in an accident and you aren’t wearing these items, you may get hypothermia waiting the hour for an ambulance to arrive.  On the other hand, if you wear these clothes, you’ll roast during your morning commute.   Ultimately, this requires an individual make a decision about risk.  Some folks wear their winter gear while driving and turn the heat down, riding in a cold cab.  Others take the chance and throw their gear in the back, hoping that they can put it on quickly enough in the event of an emergency.  As Alaska has grown more populated and traffic on the roads has increased, the chance of someone happening upon you and helping in an emergency has improved – but being incapacitated on a lone highway is always in the back of people’s heads.

These risks are at the heart of my next novel, The Winter Highway.  In it, an ex-Soldier becomes stranded on a lone Alaska Highway in the depths of winter only to find himself hunted by a delusional militia leader.   The Winter Highway is scheduled for release in late 2014.