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Gay Men Run For VT House and Senate
Strange Things Done in the Midnight Sun
by Susan McMillan
There
are strange things done in the midnight sun by the men who moil for gold;
The Arctic trails have their secret tales that would make your blood run
cold;
The Northern Lights have seen queer sights, but the queerest you ever
did see
Was that night on the marge of Lake Lebarge I cremated Sam McGee.
- Robert Service
When a single woman moves to Alaska,
she is told that "the odds are good but the goods are odd,"
referring to her chances of meeting a man - although that's not my concern.
But that phrase sums up a lot of Alaska. It's a great and odd place, where
there are some strange things done.
In our cabin, just north of Fairbanks and
about 100 miles south of the Arctic Circle, we are as close to Tokyo as
we are to Burlington. We are watching summer fade into fall. Soon the
hills will be the brilliant gold of aspen and birch trees. Already, the
night is creeping back into our lives. No more round-the-clock golf tournaments.
No more midnight-sun baseball with the Goldpanners. The midnight road
races are over and no one is mowing their lawn or boating at 1 a.m. anymore.
The tour buses are here but will disappear abruptly with the tourists
just after Labor Day.
Although it is sad in mid-August to
see the summer fade, it almost comes as a relief. After all, since May,
the pace here has been too fast and the days too long. Activities frequently
reach past midnight, leaving most of us tired and ready to let the endless
sun finally set. Now, when I wake in the night, it is dark and sleep is
easy. As we lose seven minutes of light each day, fall comes on quickly.
With the onset of winter comes that
special day when more people go out to dinner and spend more money than
any other day of the year. On this day the government mails out, or direct-deposits,
the Permanent Fund Dividend checks. Alaska has no income tax and no state
sales tax, and the government provides every resident a bonus for living
here. The money comes from the millions of barrels of oil flowing down
the 800 mile ribbon of pipeline that crosses the state. One year, each
of us was rewarded with nearly $2,000. We may already be deep in snow
but October is a month to celebrate.
And the fun and games of winter will
be here soon. Even downhill skiing is different here in Fairbanks. My
favorite hill is Moose Mountain where there is no chair lift or even a
tow rope. Your "lift ticket" gets you a seat on an old school
bus for the five minute drive up the road to the top of Murphy Dome. Ski
down, throw your skis on the rack, and hop onto the heated bus to head
up for the next run. This arrangement really works here.
In the deep of winter, intricate hand-carved
ice sculptures are found all over town. The incredible display of figures,
scenes, and even castles illuminated with colored lights brightens the
long dark days. Businesses sponsor carvings so there is a surprise around
every corner. There is even a phone booth of ice, equipped with a real
payphone, and one parish always has a life-size creche scene carved out
of ice, on the roof of their church. The intricate carvings last for weeks,
only softening and falling when the winter sun emerges for more and more
time each day.
Like everywhere, people here love
competition. The Iditarod and the Yukon Quest Sled Dog Races get international
attention. Even the 2,000-mile Iron Dog Snowmachine Race gets some press
outside the state. But the really fun races are the absurd local events.
We just had the Red-Green Regatta where anyone can enter a homemade contraption
to race downriver as long as the "boat" is made with duct tape.
If the rig floats, it has a chance at winning.
The Rubber Duckie race is a fund-raiser
where 9,000 little yellow rubber bath tub toys are dumped into the Chena
River to see which floats the fastest. This year, recently appointed U.S
Senator Lisa Murkowski (R-AK), won second place in the rubber duckie contest.
(Could this be symbolic of her finish in the heated senatorial race?)
Another popular outing is the Annual Outhouse Race held at the Chatanika
Lodge. To enter, you need an outhouse on skis fit to be pushed down the
hill and round a steep corner to the finish. One person is seated and
two push. Some of the rigs actually make it to the finish line without
breaking up or flying off. It is great fun to watch on one of those brilliant,
sunny winter days when you realize why living through the winter is worth
every dark moment.
I learned that Fairbanks was different before
I'd ever moved here. The ads for rentals read like this: Yurt, 14 acres,
pets welcome, no water, $250/month; or Cabin, $350, includes elect/ heat/
propane/ cable, pets welcome, no water. Lots of folks live "without
water" here, just out of town. They haul water in for cooking and
dishes, and shower at the gym or laundromat. In the city proper, outhouses
were banned just five years ago. Here's a secret though. A quick trip
to the outhouse during a frigid arctic night may reveal the amazing Northern
Lights. Indoor plumbing will never be this rewarding.
Assistant Editor Susan McMillan and her partner are spending the summer
in Alaska but promise to return to Vermont in November.