Tap on the igloo to go home.
| Caribou Fog 24 December 2006 Dr. M. Mustoe text and images © 2006 2007 by Dr. M. Mustoe |
  
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24 December 2006
Dear Folks,
Staying Cozy and warm...but what else can you do in conditions
like this. Seasons Greetings from almost the top of the world.
m mustoe
Barrow, Alaska
REPLIES
The
Arctic is full of all kinds of strange, different weather and
atmospheric phenomena. Caribou,
(the reindeer) for example, are known to form a phenomenon known
as Caribou fog. When the conditions are right, in very cold weather
it takes very little moisture to saturate the surrounding air.
When a herd of caribou on the tundra get together, their collective
breaths as well as their perspiration release moisture into the
air. The consequence of this is a fog that forms around the animals.
Is this a natural smoke screen for the herd? Staying together,
even in a fog, what a caribou concept.
Earlier in the day from the King Eider, I sent
out my holiday greetings via e-mail. The replies I get confirm
something. Rain is to Seattle, Washington as Cold is to Barrow,
Alaska. From the e-mails it is obvious that it's the temperature
that's at issue! After all it is the furthest north city in the
United States of America, and thus it has this reputation of being
cold and full of snow. But there again it seems we are being inculcated
with a version of Madison Avenue geography . First, neither is
Seattle the rainiest city in the US nor is Barrow, Alaska the
snowiest. (Last time I checked for BIG cities Mobile, Alabama,
was the wettest city with the most precipitation). Furthermore
Barrow, Alaska, does not hold the record for the coldest temperatures
recorded in the Alaska, let alone the United States. (Last time
I checked on that one it was, Prospect Creek, Alaska, with the
lowest temperature of -80 degrees F. and Rogers Pass, in Montana
coming in at 69.7 degrees F. International Falls, Minnesota
gets pretty cold also.) This page is about staying warm, no
matter what.
(Left: A cold afternoon
in Barrow. Looking south at the moon rise 4:30 p.m. 24 December
2006, -20 degrees F.)
In the 1970's there was a maintenance free car battery that used a highly effective visual presentation to advertise the product on television. It showed a truck, frozen in a block of ice, being cranked with a remote starter. It started! This "proved" that these batteries would crank an engine even in the coldest of climates.
Although this advertisement looked impressive, living in a cold climate at the time, having studied the physics of meteorology, and living around apple trees, I knew it was really nothing more than a little Madison Avenue hype. First off, even cold climates don't encase automobiles in ice cubes. Although it's not uncommon to see automobiles in Barrow "plugged in" with heater systems, and even running all night long (on $4.55 per gallon fuel) just to keep them warm, none the less, even on the coldest days, there are no ice cubes forming around them.
When ice forms, that is, when water changes state from a liquid to a solid, it releases "latent heat". Orchardists know this. If the weather in spring turns cold and temperatures drop to critical levels that could injure blossoms an option available to the orchardist is to encase the blossom in ice. Basically all one needs to do is keep spraying the tree with irrigation water. The ice that forms around the blossom releases energy in the form of heat and protects the blossom. What does any of this have to do with the Arctic? Plenty.
In practical terms, one thing I found out very quickly is that batteries, not just car batteries necessarily, but batteries in cameras, recorders, lights, and other devices, do not last long in the extreme cold of the Arctic. I spent more money replacing batteries for my cameras than on eating at the local restaurants.
Any native, knowledgeable about survival in the icy Arctic, seeing a television ad showing a truck encased in ice and starting would naturally be skeptical. Since everyone knows "Eskimos live in ice houses" so what's the big deal about starting a truck enclosed in a block of ice? But there again, Madison Avenue has sold us a bill of goods with respect to the Eskimo and the igloo, or snow house, (or iglu in Inupiaq, meaning house). They sound synonymous, but they are not. And in fact in this part of the Arctic, with the Inupiat, the iglu was not the genre de vie.
In more nomadic cultures on the tundra, a movable, temporary structure such as a dome house was a desirable dwelling (see: Stephen Straight and M. Mustoe. "Temporary Buildings: Where are They Going, Where Have They Been?" Journal of Geography, March/April 1996, p. 73-80.) And for Alaskan coastal Arctic dwellers, homes structured from driftwood and sod, (known as a barabara) that was actually dug into the ground, made for a more permanent dwelling providing shelter from the cold. Although the igloo was used on the ice as a temporary living structure by Alaskan Natives, it was used predominantly in central portions of the Arctic and even there as a temporary lodge, mostly during the seal hunt. Paul Green, in "I am Eskimo Aknik My Name" in 1959 writes, "Lot of people in States think igloo is snow house. But it not. Also, they think we Eskimo that live in Arctic of Alaska use snow house for our home. We Eskimo that live in Arctic never use snow house for our home unless we get caught in a storm. I live in a snow house lot of time when I went out hunting. It's warm home if you fixed it right."
Staying warm is a goal for all those living
in the Arctic and while I was there, my warm home was the King Eider Inn,
named for the pretty Arctic duck, Somateria spectabilis. The male
of this species has a distinctive orange bill and during the mating
season, a bluish crown on his head and thus, the reference to
royalty. These ducks know how to stay warm. In fact the Common
Eider, kin to the King Eider, contributes to people staying toasty
warm all around the world. This eider is the exclusive source
of eiderdown, the soft, premium filler of quality comforters,
sleeping bags and coats. The Arctic natives have used the eider
duck for its skin as well as its feathers and its eggs. Occasionally,
when the eider wants to get a little extra warm, it has been seen
as far south as California. But mostly these ducks migrate within
the Arctic region, moving primarily to southern reaches in areas
such as the Aleutian Islands.
The temperate climate of Northern California is the regular home to the owners, managers, and gracious hosts of the King Eider Inn. The Phan family, Vinh and his wife Nhu Y Le, have owned the King Eider Inn for the last three years. For awhile during the summer and the winter each year, they come up to Barrow with their sons, Quang and C P and work at the inn.
Mr. Phan tells me the story of how he and his family came from Vietnam about eighteen years ago. CP and Quang, were both born in Vietnam and were just two and five years old then. They grew up in California. I first meet CP (the abbreviation for his name...still an unsolved Arctic mystery!) behind the front desk in the lobby when I check into the inn on the 20th. The Eider Inn is the newest and most modern of three motels in Barrow. (Mr. Vinh, Mrs. Nhu Y Le and Steve Tarin's Mother, Lillian 91 years young on her 10th visit to Barrow.)
CP says that he and his older brother help in the management of the facility by running the front desk, helping with room service and assisting guests in helping them find their way around Barrow. On top of their family and management responsibilities at the Inn, both of these young men stay busy attending school in California. Quang is a 4th year biology undergraduate at Notre Dame DeNamur, in Belmonte, California, while CP is double majoring in business economics and political science at the University of California in Irvine. (Quang, Alex Terzioski and CP,) .
So is Barrow a place for a college student from California? CP tells me, "Personally for me, I look forward to the trips up to Barrow each summer and winter. A lot of people (Alaskans mostly) talk about how there's nothing up in Barrow, how it's a dirt land, things of that sort, but I see it differently. I come from a very high paced environment where people are constantly coming and going, meeting deadlines, things to do; there's a mass amount of people you're constantly surrounded by. Sometimes it's nice to escape this lifestyle and take a breather; kick back and smell the air. Barrow is an opportunity for me to experience a completely different environment, it's somewhat of an escape from the fast-paced California life." (Quang, Jovan, Vinh, and me)
It is 16 below zero Fahrenheit outside, and
I am in the lobby of the inn putting on my boots. The lobby of
the King Eider Inn is a beautiful, warm place. Guests are treated
to a 24-hour-a-day supply of hot chocolate, tea or coffee. The
walls are decorated with everything Barrow, everything Arctic.
A large blade of the ubiquitous
baleen, the decoration of choice in these parts, arches across
one wall. A photograph of a playful polar bear cub upside down in the
snow, and other geographically
significant images line the hallways. Tracking in snow and
ice and the impact of ice creepers on the lobby's beautiful wood
floors is eliminated by a sign requesting that everyone take off their boots and shoes and leave them
by the door before going to their rooms. It keeps the place clean
and guests, walking around in socks, add to the gentle, cozy,
quiet atmosphere of this home away from home. The picture window
in the lobby opens up to Ogrook street. Almost directly across
the street is the terminal
building for the Barrow airport. Alaska Airlines and Frontier Flying Service service the area,
but the flights are limited and the airport is quiet. A thick, soft, sofa makes looking out the window
into the sub zero winter outside, warm and comfortable. I spend
a good deal of quiet time there, gazing at the neatly trimmed
Christmas tree next to the large fire place hearth and just thinking.
A sleepy stuffed polar bear resides on this mantle all year around.
It's quiet, peaceful, warm, my room is just right....I know Goldilocks
got chased off by the bears. But I think that old polar bear is telling me something different.
He's saying "stay....relax.....rest.....this is a good place
to be!"
(Out
the window of my room, the building for Frontier Flying Service.)
This pleasant at-home atmosphere was augmented further for me by the honour of sharing a wonderful holiday meal with the Phan's and some of the other guests on Christmas Eve. I even got a present, wrapped in Bert and Ernie paper, a tee shirt with, what else?.....a polar bear on it. (We all got presents wrapped with Bert and Ernie paper, including Stevie who with his dad, Steve, are about ready to open one of Stevie's favorite games...Battle Ship." What a wonderful memory these moments made. What a wonderfully warm place to be on such a cold, Arctic day. (Left side back: Georgia and Jovan Terzioski. Jovan and his family is originally from Macedonia and is the contractor who built the King Eider Inn, your's truly, Lillian, Stevie, Steve Tarin, CP, Vinh, standing, Nhu Y Le seated, behind his mother, Quang, and Alex, Jovan's son...and a great Christmas Eve meal!)
It's Christmas Eve, and I am getting ready to leave to go visit the National Weather Service in Barrow. CP is behind the front desk, and I mention to him that his abbreviated name is highly suited for this latitude. He asks me, "Why's that?" "You're an economics major, CP, I can excuse you from this one," I chide, "but all my climatology students will tell you that CP stands for one thing up here!" CP or cP is the climatological abbreviation for "continental polar" which refers to the origin of an air mass forming over continental polar regions. Although, over the Arctic sea, maritime polar (mP) air masses also form out the window here, the Arctic, as an atmospheric realm is a generator of either wet (maritime) or dry (continental), but in all cases, COLD, air masses. These bubbles of air can be thousands of miles wide and influence areas thousands of miles away. For example, the Polar Front is the margin between the polar air mass and warm gulf air flowing up from the south. It's found seasonally advancing or retreating over the midsection of the North American continent influencing the formation of tornadoes in Kansas and snow fall in Houston. I am about to walk outside into the source for much of that polar air. (Left, above: Lobby of King Eider Inn)
Around 4 p.m., it is very dark outside. I am headed out the lobby door and down the street in the direction of the Chuckchi Sea, an arm of the Arctic Ocean, and just west of Point Barrow. In Barrow, salt water comes on all sides of town. On the west side of the point is the Chuckchi Sea, in the middle and to the north is the Arctic Sea, and to the east is the Beaufort Sea. All surfaces that are sources for damp, cold, maritime polar air.
Basically three things influence the climate of a place: latitude, elevation, and closeness to water. So for those of you down on cold, give Barrow a break! First off it's going to be cold there because it is in the Arctic. Additionally it is cold enough to holds the position of the town with the lowest annual mean temperature in the United States, about 9 degrees F. Additionally Barrow holds the number one spot for summers that are the coolest anywhere. From June to August normal temperature comes in around 36 degrees F. But far north Barrow is also at sea level (practically speaking).... on the coastlines of three converging seas. This oceanic influence modifies the weather Barrow enough to make temperature ranges not so extreme. According to climate data from the National Weather Service, the average temperature in Barrow during July, the warmest month of the year, is 39 degrees F. The coldest month on average in February comes in at -17 degrees F. Compared to some other Alaskan stations more inland, the Barrow range of temperatures is not an extreme.
Just a couple of blocks away is the Barrow office of the National Weather Service. But before I get there, on the corner, of Momegana and Ahkovak, I stop and visit the Wiley Post-Will Rogers Memorial. Post was an aviator and Rogers an actor and a strong advocate of air travel. Their plane went down a few miles outside of town on 25 August 1935. I was raised around the mystique of this event almost as if I knew these people. My grandmother (my nanna on my father's side), a Tacoma pioneer, who resided in Seattle, was a true Will Rogers fan. Rogers was a humorist of film and radio and nanna was very proud of the two book ends she possessed that were cast metal replicas of the memorial at the crash site. Now I was there, and I always wanted to see what this site really looked like. It was nothing like her bookends. Another memorial, fourteen miles out of town, where the plane actually went down, that one looks like the bookends. The memorial is almost directly across the street from the Wiley Post - Will Rogers Memorial Airport. It was covered in snow, so I brushed away the snow and read the inscriptions. It was a nice memorial with a replica of Post's plane flying over a polar portion of the globe all in bronze. Next to the memorial, and next to the visitor centre located on this corner, was a huge signpost pointing out the way to places all around the world: Seattle, 1960 miles, Honolulu 3450 miles, Oslo, 3364 miles. London 4114 miles, and of course Dog Iron Ranch, Oklahoma, 3246 miles, the birth place of Will Rogers. Places are important, and Barrow is the crossroads for a lot of places.
The snow squeaks from the cold as a I walk
down the road toward the weather office. It is a small structure
with a classic Balloon Service Building out behind the main office.
This is an upper air and ice station. It is also considered a
sea station, and conservatively called a National Weather Service
Weather Office. At two this afternoon, like always (and at two
in the morning) they released a radiosonde, a weather balloon,
and as I get into the station the audio for the telemetry of the
balloon, still in its ascent through the Arctic Atmosphere, is
filling the room with a kind of science fiction sounding musical
pulse put out by the
receiver.
I meet with Brad Herold, station Meteorological Technician, as he turns the audio down on the radiosonde receiver so we can talk better. He tells me that the radiosonde equipment is about the highest of the high-tech that it gets around here. I ask him if they ever find the balloons. He say, "Rarely. they usually find them out on the tundra somewhere when they are out hunting. Rarely anyone finds them in the winter since they are white and the snow pack and ice is white, you'd have to practically step on it to find it. Because they seldom come down on land or where there is anybody we don't even put a parachute on them." Brad tells me some of these balloons make it up to 30,000 meters. If the atmosphere is stable, the balloon might go almost straight up and then come straight down. Once in the summer one landed near the radio station in town, just a few blocks away and you could see that one up in the air because it was a clear day. I ask Brad, what is it like doing weather at the "top of the world" and how he got here. Like many in the weather service they get into the business because they love weather. That's no exception to Brad. He tells me, "I'm originally from Toledo Ohio, my first job was in a contract weather service, when I was getting started I spent nearly sixteen hours a day volunteering and getting some hands on experience. In 1994, I went to work for the weather service in Indianapolis, then South Bend, Indiana. I've been here about two years." He likes working here however, since his original interest was in severe convective weather, that's something he misses. (High Frequency and Very High Frequency radios at the station help maintain contact with maritime stations. On top, a working barograph)
The weather here is generally stable. However, cyclonic storms can be intense and can come with serve winds and cold weather. These storms can become a critical hazard for people out on the tundra hunting, camping, or mariners at sea. National Weather Radio programmed from this office provides information to the public in the North Slope Borough. The Barrow weather service office also provides sea temperature and ice pack observations in their daily report from their offices. During the winter time, only ice observations are made and not sea temperature readings since the sea is frozen. (Above right: 2 a.m. balloon launch, 26 December 2006) (Modern station equipment NWS Barrow, AK)
Dave Anderson, Official in Charge at the Barrow
Weather Service Office, explained to me that even though "temperatures
can be cold here, the ocean moderates them and the extremes that
you might see in Fort Yukon for example are not seen here in Barrow."
Additionally he adds, that "precipitation here places Barrow
in the category of a desert, with less than ten inches per year."
The NWS list Barrow's annual precipitation coming in at about
4.6 inches with about 28 inches of snow fall each year. That's
dry, and its dry snow also, because it's so far north and so cold.
(Left to right:
Dave Anderson and Brad Harold NWS Barrow, AK)
Dave has been in Barrow since 1996. "Traditionally the coldest time of the year in Barrow is the last week in January and the first two weeks in February. The temperature can get as low as 40 below zero F. and last year it got as low as 55 below. But that is only for a short time. During the summer the temperature might get up to 50 degrees F. or in the low 60 degree F. range with lows near 40 but the extremes, like 100 degrees F. in Fort Yukon and then record lows in the winter are not in Barrow.
Dave explains to me that the Barrow office
is a sea ice observation station. For many years the office used
four literature sources from which to make their observations.
However, a few years back, he was instrumental in editing and
putting together a unique observation handbook drawing from all
those sources. Dave is one of the only people in Alaska specializing
in sea ice observation. The Barrow station is essentially a ground
truth station. "Along with the radiosonde data ,we also provide
visual observations that go into the computer models that put
out sea ice conditions and forecasts from Silver Springs."
Thus, the Barrow station has the charge of having to keep the
digital world on track.
Before
I leave the station Dave asks me if I've seen the water experiment?
"It's where you throw a cup of hot water into the air and
watch it almost instantly evaporate?" I tell him I've heard
of it but have never seen it done. We go back to his office, and
on the wall is a huge blonde bearskin. He tells me that he bagged
the bear down south just a few years ago...he wanted a blonde
one, and that's what he got. (Left: It's a beautiful rug.) But
it's dusty and dry in Barrow, and Dave tells me he needs to clean
it again. Dave disappears around the corner and comes back with
a cup of hot water from the coffee machine. We go to the front
of the building, and from a vantage point near the door, I set
my digital camera on video. All of the sudden, we are little kids
playing with water on the porch. But it isn't summer outside.
The air temperature is -16 degrees F. "Watch this!"
he says, and he throws the water with a quick jerk into the air.
It's about five minutes to 5 p.m. The relative humidity at that
time is about 70%. My climatology students should know that the
air this evening in Barrow could have accommodated 30% more moisture.
As the video shows, Dave added to that moisture deficit almost
instantaneously. Most of, if not all 100% of the warm moisture
in the cup evaporated instantaneously or turned to Arctic Smoke,
or steam fog or it evaporates "That is really neat! I exclaim."
"Yeah, the coffee pot water is the best water for this."
he tells me. What's next? A herd of caribou coming up the street
in a fog? It could happen in the Arctic. You can watch the video (you need QuickTime) and
an explanation of what is happening by tapping here.
Generally I enjoy the cold weather. I'm somewhat used to it, and I like to dress for it. But on the 23rd of December my cold loving self will be challenged. I had just completed an interview and had a ride to the AC Grocery Store. From there I decided to walk back to the King Eider. In fact, I really had no choice in the matter but to walk. But the weather had turned, and people were saying that it was getting colder fast. The Kind Eider was over a mile away, and I had left my cold weather gloves in my room. All I had was my cotton gloves. By the time I began my trek back, it was nearly 6 p.m. The temperature was reading 37 below zero F. and the wind chill was dropping it down to possibly apparent 82 below zero F.
I began walking from the AC store and started my shortcut across the lagoon that separates Barrow from Browerville. The wind really begins to pick up, and in as much as I use a cane to get around, my right hand is out, exposed to the cold air with only a cotton glove on. My walking ability is limited and with the wind, the cold, and now trying to hold my cane in my hand while keeping my hand protected in my pocket, I was really slowing down. Slowing down in this kind of weather means cooling down even more. At about 20 minutes into this trek I knew something was up. My boots are Sorel's Arctic packs good for 70 below, my coat is a Cabella's goose-down parka with a snorkel hood of coyote fir. I am wearing layered clothing, a turtleneck, wool sweater and insulated Carhartt R03 bib overalls that are also good for sub zero conditions. (I also wore lights for the drivers of snow machines to be able to see me.)
My body started out fine, but my hands, especially my right one, was starting to lose feeling. At one point, I actually looked down to see if I had a hand any longer, because it just did not feel like it was there. There was nothing else to do. I continued to shuffle toward my goal, but I was slowing down, getting tired, and starting to feel the cold creeping into other parts of my body. Worse, I started feeling nauseous. I was almost ready to sit down and try to warm myself up by huddling into my clothes for awhile, especially my hands, when a driver on a snow machine passed me and then stopped and turned around. "Do you need a ride!" he asks "It's pretty cold out here, let me tell you I have a fast machine, I can show you how fast it can go!" I asked him his name, and he told me Bruce Wilson. I tell Bruce, "You know I could sure use a lift. However, I'm just going to have to believe you that your machine is fast because I am so numb right now I don't know if I can hold on if you go fast." Bruce assured me that he'd go slow, and he did, but still he got me to the King Eider pretty fast. It was a great ride, and I know that machine is fast because he was gunning it all the way! I told him I really appreciated the lift.
When I got inside, it was all I could do to get my boots off and get to my room. I was so sick to my stomach that I had to move slowly to the bed, take everything off and start re-warming my body very slowly. My right hand was completely numb. With warm water I started re-warming my hands. After about two hours, although my hand was still numb, I was generally starting to feel a little better. I got up and got some warm tea. After it was all over, my middle finger and ring finger on my right hand were numb. I had slight frost bite or frost nip in the hand. And as I edit these notes nearly a month later, my fingers are still numb in places. Dave at the Weather Service, told me he got it in the ear lobes, and they hurt when it gets cold. What an Arctic souvenir! I was a little concerned for my finger picking style on the guitar but it has not been altered that much and I don't play much these days anyway. It's way too cold to play much guitar and the cold makes my hand hurt.
After my stay in Barrow, I calculated some simple temperature averages. During the time I was there, from the 19th to the 26th of December, the average low temperature was -20 degrees F. while the average high was -2 degrees F. You snowbirds, don't be so hard on Barrow! It's winter there, and winter won't leave until it is supposed to on the 21st of March. That's for real. In a phone interview I had with Dave, he told me that on the 23rd of January the sun came back to Barrow! In the meantime, little if any insolation from the sun has been available. Sure it's been a little stormy and cold outside. But I like to bundle up, it suits my pagophylic nature. Furthermore I have come to think that to feel numb, part of the time, isn't all that bad, as long as you can get out of town on a fast snow machine.
Although I did not see a lot of wildlife on this trip I did observe some, and had some great chances for photographs if the camera had worked. None the less, in the spirit of a 19th century naturalist on a field trip, I did complete some sketches with pencil and colour crayon. On the first night that I went out to the point I observed a pretty little white Arctic Fox. The fox sat down, got up, looked around and then did the same thing over again and ultimately ran off into the night. The animal came to within thirty feet of me. Additionally, one afternoon I also saw a rare very dark brown fox on the road near Spenard Builders Supply and Naval Arctic Research Laboratory (NARL). It was limping and looked like it had hurt its leg. It is rare to see a dark fox at this time of year.
