I recently moved to Barrow, AK. Before that I lived in Minneapolis, Minnesota. (If you look at the picture to the left, you will find Barrow in the bottom left-hand corner. ('A') To the east there is a Lagoon called "Isatkoak" I thought I would be living just south of there in that orange building. But where I am is way up in the right hand corner of the picture. I live at the NE corner of Middle Salt Lagoon in a building that is shaped like an 'H'. This is Ilisagvik College.) My friend John, who lives in Chicago, while looking at the satellite imagery available for the Barrow, AK area said, "Child, this is proof that man could live on Mars." Please understand, this wasn't a negative comment and that it came from a person who dubbed Minnesota as "The Land of Too Far North". You could see how Barrow might as well be Mars for a person who considers Minnesota as 'The Land of Too Far North'. As it turns out this blog is the answer to the question the title asks. Yes, there is Blog on Mars.
Mars is not a bad place. As a matter of fact, it's a good place. In Minneapolis, I never turned anyone's head, but here on Mars I have nearly caused several head on collisions. This is because people coming from two different directions toward the same stop sign got distracted by someone they did not recognize (me). I was standing near the corner smoking. Every vehicle that passed by checked me out. That could perk a girl right up. (unless the comment in the cars were:" iiieee! Who is that strange, ugly, fat woman?" but I am not going there. I prefer to be perked.)
Barrow is a world away from where I come from. It is a contained community in that it sits on the Arctic Ocean and is bordered on all sides by a vast expanse of open plane -the tundra. The climate is high Arctic dessert. Not much rain here. Only about 10 inches of precipitation per year all in the form of snow. The wet season is from September through November. After that the only wet comes from melting snow.
There are no bugs here. No spiders. No millipedes, saw-bugs or silverfish. The do have mosquitoes -for about 2 weeks in late June, and I suppose what eats them is around for that short while and then they are gone too. There are no webs or spider sac eggs on the exterior of the buildings. Nothing of the usual indicators of insect life. No moths. No millers. Flour keeps forever. No weevils. This is part of what living on permafrost is about. The ground never thaws here.
I live in what was once a military installation. They built it and lived here, maybe as part of the dew-line project. There is a strange quansit hut which sits in the middle of a barbed wire perimeter, about a quarter mile out my back door. (I don't remember ever having a mystery in my backyard before.) No one goes there. No one here knows what it's for, although they speculate that it is no longer used. There is a building attached to a dome off to the east about a mile. That is the Dew-line project as it now exists. Access to that entire area is restricted. (more barbed-wire). A reminder to me that this is the area that the 50's move: "The Thing", was supposed to take place up here or near here.
There are no trees here. There is 0 percent humidity most of the time. When it snows it comes down in perfect, fluffy, white, flakes, that sparkle in light. There is a couple inches on the ground now. Enough to track the mad ramblings of the local Arctic Foxes, who live under the buildings, where it is warm and somewhat sheltered from the elements.
There is one fox who lives under the scientific wing of the building, just off the kitchen and dining room who we named Petey. The foxes have little fear of humans and sadly, carry rabies. They are beautiful to see. They have their winter colors right now: White, cream and light smokey gray. No one feeds the foxes because they shit and pee wherever they eat. Stinky. There has been one polar bear siting since I arrived. They sometimes hang out at Middle Salt Lagoon. My windows face that direction. I hope to see one eventually.
The clouds are different here they are low and marked by distant weather systems, that you see, but might not experience. There are phenomena that look like down drafts, as if some portion of the clouds are actually diving into the ocean or ground. People who are born here have little tolerance for heat and humidity. When they travel south they have to watch it until they adjust or heatstroke is a problem, so is breathing in high humidity. It is easier to breathe here. The air is fresh and cold. But the dry is tough on the skin. Very little salt is consumed here and I already get that and why.
And daylight is different here. The coming of the season of darkness is not only marked by the setting of the sun, but also by its rising. It rises later everyday. It is full dark at 8am. by 9 there is twilight and the sun is fully up by 9:30. And the sun sets earlier each day. The darkness comes in full when the time between rising and setting is shortest and takes place below the horizon here. The last visual rising and setting is set for November 18th. When the sun sets that day we will not see sunrise until January 21st. I am curious about what that will be like.
It is whaling season here. The natives hunt Bowhead Whales. They are allowed 12 strikes no more no less. If they use a strike but don't get a whale then they don't get a whale. So far they have taken 5 whales. I did not get to see the butchering of the whales on shore, but in the student lounge there were people feasting on muktuk (pronounced muckchuck) which is raw whale skin and blubber.
They hunt seal and caribou here too. There is a tradition stew called Tuttu that is made with caribou, that I will learn to make and serve here at the cafeteria. There are all kinds of what I think of as 'exotic meats' in the freezer; moose, caribou, reindeer all part of the regular diet here. Reindeer hot link sausage is tasty -especially with sauerkraut.
So here is a taste of life on Mars. It's my first taste and now yours. You may not like it. It may sound a bit desolate, but you know, I've always thought that desolation is a condition of the spirit or soul, if you will, and not of a climate or landscape. If you deal with your own inner desolation then suddenly there is beauty in new places, people and ways of life.
