Mail Day in McCarthy, AK

Imagine that you live 60 miles from the nearest paved road in a vast wilderness of 13.2 million acres. Your only power comes from solar panels or propane, usually in the form of a generator. On a good, summer day, it takes about 2.5 hours to drive that 60 miles and in the winter, it's not unusual to get to 50 below zero. If it's a Wednesday or a Friday, it's Mail Day!

In Alaska, planes are like cars. They are a dominate form of transportation to remote areas and are often the "lifeline" to a community. McCarthy and Kennecott are two small communities of about 40 year-round people that reside in the heart of Wrangell-St. Elias National Park & Preserve. They are served by Copper Valley Air Service on mail days.

A small shed is the post office, where volunteers unload the plane and sort the mail into everyone's slots. Folks stand around catching up with one another about weather, trapping success, good books read lately, etc. The mail shed's not heated so if you're dressed for snow machining, you're dressed for mail day! After the mails sorted, they grab their mail, and maybe a "neighbor's," and take off for home on their snow machine or cross-country skis. But if you're a winter visitor, like me, it's plan to have someone meet you that has a sled on the back of their snow machine so they can haul your gear to your cabin!

I flew both ways on this plane and loved seeing scenery I had come to appreciate only in Spring, Summer and Fall. When you experience such a vast place like Wrangell-St. Elias National Park & Preserve, and take in such extreme beauty, words like awe, wonderment and humble are so tiny to try to describe snow covered mountains, river & glaciers that repeat in an unending fashion.

It was in 1999 that I met retired National Geographic Photographer, George Mobley, at his part-time residence in WSENP&P. After chit-chatting for a while, I asked him, "George, you've been all over the world on assignments and seen some of the most beautiful places in the world. What made you decide to live part of the year here in Wrangell-St. Elias?" His eyes spoke to me before his words. "Because it IS the most beautiful place in the world." No further questions, your honor.

I'm grateful for my experiences and the friendships I've made in the our nation's LARGEST and least visited national park in our system. For more information about this park, visit: www.nps.gov/wrst/

Temporary Residence in Alaska

By now I should be home in Milwaukee after a winter photography trip to Wrangell-St. Elias National Park & Preserve in Alaska. However, Mother Nature has other plans for me and that might include temporary residency in Alaska. Not that I would mind that, as I love the landscape and the people of this state, but I'm a guest at a friend's home and waiting for Mt. Redoubt to settle down enough so that the planes can fly again.

Yes, Mt. Redoubt's an active volcano that's been threatening to erupt for weeks and on the 23rd of March, she did. It didn't bother me then, I was in our cabin in WSENP&P photographing the beautiful scenery and the ash was making it's way north of the eruption. But now that I'm 2 flights back into Anchorage, the ash fell our way last night and the airport's "closed indefinitely."

The ash started falling about 6:00 p.m. last night and the TV reporters had dust masks and goggles on when doing their "live" reports outside. It's not as bad as the eruptions of 1989-90 but let's just say that there's a whole bunch of people that are stuck here as well as points south, trying to get here. Kind of like a big, ole' Midwestern snowstorm that cripples air traffic for a few days. You in the midwest know exactly what I'm talking about.

The big difference between snow and ash is that ash can destroy anything mechanical or electronic. There's images of the check-in kiosks at the airport covered with big, black, plastic bags to keep ash out of the electronics. Sled dogs can't be kept outside and all those active Alaskans, who have spent their winter cooped up, can't get out to play right now.

So it's time for me to work on an article about what's it like to experience beautiful, Alaskan winter scenery and then a volcanic eruption. The volcanologists say this eruption/ash fall phase could go on for weeks or months. Let's just hope my article is a "short story" and not a non-fiction book!

Cold Seat

Today's a "hunker down" day around here.  Blowing and drifting snow is making for some great landscapes outside.  I can hear the snow shovel calling to me in that "you've got a chore to do" kind of voice.  But first I've got some great news!

In a month, I'll be adding to my fine art landscape photography images in Wrangell-St. Elias National Park!  Yes, I know I'm repeating myself here.  This week I got all my backpacking food sent up to AK and I'm starting to collect my winter gear together for packing.  In the meantime, while I was cleaning up an external hard drive to take along with me, I found this image from Kennecott, Alaska.

Kennecott is known for it's historic copper ore mine, where up to 70% pure copper ore was harvested from 1908 - 1938.  On the road named Silk Stocking Row, there were homes that housed the administrative types from the mine.  The mine and mill workers bunked up in long, bunk houses.  A couple of years ago I made this image of a blue chair in one of those Silk Stocking Row houses.  The image was striking in it's color but also the lonely tone it carried.  The open door and cabinet accompanies the emptiness of the chair.  A blue color for the emotion of lonely and all was complete.

These houses are presently being restored by the National Park Service with the help of skilled, local laborers.  I wonder what it looks like in the winter?