12/9/2014
In my last post I talked about how travel inevitably results in new perspectives. Today’s kernel of enlightenment: Springfield, OH is the sunshine capital of the USA! Yes! No complaining down there! I am in no danger of needing that spf 15 in my Oil of Olay while in Cordova. Day 10 in AK without so much as a glimpse of sun. I did see a hazy moon one night, but that doesn’t count. I can name > 50 shades of gray here, and none of them are the least bit titillating. Now I know you’re probably thinking I must have known there isn’t much daylight in Alaska this time of year—but you’d be mistaken. I researched all (actually, and evidently, only most of) the daylight and weather details before I took this position, which indicated a good 6-7 hours of daylight even on the shortest day of the year. Mid Ohio has about 8 hrs; not much difference. However,150 inches of precip a year in Cordova compares to our measly 39. In my imagination I envisioned piles of snow, heaps of it, Dr Suessian in magnitude and delight. I saw myself wakening to wondrous, wintry snow globes of floating, frosted flakes. It’s part of what drew me to Alaska.
Ha.
The problem is not the amount of daylight, but its obscurity in the face of all this precip. I clearly glossed over —la, la, la, la ,la, hands-over-my-ears—the part of my research that mentioned Cordova is a temperate rain forest. Also, my agent mentioned getting me a pair of “grippers” so I could walk to work as I planned. What the H is a gripper?
Crampons, it turns out. As in, all that rain turning to ice when the temp happens to drop below 32. Which is does, frequently. So I spent my first day off last week indoors waiting for the rain to stop so I could explore. And waited. Day two off work, still waiting, I set out in my jeep to at least drive around. Tried to go to the end of the Copper River Hwy – but only made it to mile 15 (out of 36). When I slammed on the brakes at the first pair of bald eagles I spotted at mile 10, 
I skidded to an uneasy stop on black ice. The eagles were unfazed by the flying gravel, and I snapped away from the car after backing up on the deserted main road. There was a bobcat in front of me digging grooves in the ice, and depositing more cinders as I passed the airport at mile 12. Having been educated into a more cautious pace, I passed the bobcat and continued…onto ice worthy of a freshly Zambonied rink. Being of the rather adventurous, slow-learner type, I continued at an even more cautious pace to skate ahead, so to speak. By now I had spotted at least a dozen eagles, some perched, some on the wing, all within 10 to 50 yards of the road and I was drunk with the possibility of more wildlife sightings. I even got out of the car (parked right in the middle of the road) to take more pics. Mistake—Clem Caddiddlehopper skidding my way to the edge of the road and back to the car in my crampon-less boots. Twenty steps never seemed such a perilous distance.
Foolishly I continued to drive, but became more aware with each passing eagle and scenic vista, of the road’s natural and miniscule slant for water run-off becoming a slick force to be reckoned with. Unable to keep the jeep from sliding sideways, and seeing the bobcat gaining on me, I decided it was time to abandon my quest, and did an 8 point turn in extreme slow-mo to head back to town. The end of the road will have to wait for another day off, which I can only hope is a bit dryer.
