Fairbanks Alaska

 

It had snowed lightly all day in the interior region of Alaska. Light and dusty, the snow came as small gentle gifts laying itself upon the ground as a mother covers a sleeping child. Throughout the day small breaks in the sequence of clouds would reveal a brilliant sun reflecting across the fresh blankets. Climbing out through the layers, McKinley, or Denali as people down south call it, would show in a winter sky framed by the deepest pure blue air that only occurs here in the arctic. Descending down back beneath the layer the world would again turn grey, the sun just a hint of brightness through an obscured overcast that gave gifts of snow sparingly.

 

Village after village fell to the hours each with its own flavor, some proud and forthright, others down trodden and broken, all one in the same and yet vastly different. The highway that intersects each city like a series of Midwest towns is in fact the Yukon River. The last flight loads just as daylight yawns and nighttime stalks the edge of the sky. Here night greets the retreating daylight with the darker end of the spectrum. As the daylight fails the deep reds linger on the western horizon. Looking straight up a brilliant blue sky ignores the threatening dark while the eastern sky blends quickly from blue to purple to the first stars of the night. Such is the sky of the North bound flight.

 

Landing in Fort Yukon the exchange is made, those arriving for those departing. The light snow abates and begins again in the quick ten minutes it takes to unload and reload the craft. Pushing the throttles forward the light snow over the runway leaps up behind the plane and we leave the earth behind. Taking off North we climb out and turn back south and look over at the western sky, a murky red, as Russia awaits the noon day. As we climb the last light lingers over the mountains below, to the east the insistent squalls blot out the sky. Well off in the distance a small red light peaks out through the clouds. At first intermittent and insignificant the moon shows itself and then hides away. Its crescent deeply red like the western sky it is set apart from the last light of day by half the sky. It holds vigil over the southern sky like a flickering candle. Its crescent a blade of flame that truly inspires awe amongst all of us trapped inside this conveyance, we stare in awe and for a moment it makes sense that we are here. For a moment we are joined as one in the beauty of this sky. For a moment…

 

 

It is beautiful here, yet a place where there are few smiles amongst the general populous. Humor lives abundantly in wry sarcastic quips; the people here generally proud of the seeming isolation from the staid existence of people from the foreign shores of places like Anchorage or America.

One of the hidden gems of higher learning, the University of Alaska Fairbanks boasts little and accomplishes much while advancing cutting edge technology. Home more often to the PHD's who would rather sequester themselves to their work, than to elbow their way through to accolades from the cadre of their peers. This place draws to its bosom a society of quiet confidence. A society who's knowing nods capture more than a long conversation can convey. We don't need to smile we know.

Yet that knowledge, that confidence is tainted with a loneliness that belies a poorly hidden contempt for the outside world; a hidden longing for the comfortable coat of safety in numbers. A coat that is more easily shrugged off than worn... and that's why they're here, we’re here, and perhaps even why I'm here.

Having taken comfort in the world we have found its warmth stings against bare skin. So we bundle up and layer our clothes and our hearts deep beneath our winter suits, our uniforms of survival. It is so much less that we need to be understood than we need to understand ourselves. Most likely it is why God guided men here to poke at the earth with their spades. A place that is alone, a place to contemplate the riches of this earth and how they are defined, a place that insists on contemplation… Fairbanks, Alaska. The city with a rich history of mining, and if you look beneath the weak smiles you will find a heart of gold.

Reviews

[selkietales]

I was born in Alaska so it's nice to know what someone who lives there thinks of it :) I just have stories of hunting, crazy neighbors, and a few vague memories like eating berries and finding a dead baby bird so, like I said, it's neat to see a different image of it.

[Rusty]

Thanks for reading.

[joshua deathdealer]

I've dreamed of visiting and even living in Alaska for as long as I can remember. I used to go the library and search for books about it. Even made plans when I was older which never fell through. This story is a masterpiece in reference to this great land and I enjoyed it very much. Thanks for sharing this.