Alaska Season

When I first came to Barrow, everything around me seemed alien. From the moment I walked off the plane and inhaled the crisp 20 degree air, I didn't know what to expect.

I definitely thought the plane was going to touch down on the Arctic Ocean.

My new crewmates were immediately calling out names of birds I didn't know. On the first night, we surveyed birds from the vehicle until 1 AM (3 AM for my time zone). I was exhausted, eyes blurred from looking at tiny dots in the distance that were supposedly birds, and most of all freezing my ass off. I wondered if I was really prepared for this. At first the tundra seemed dead and cold. As the days passed, I was forced to open my eyes and really look.

It started with one tiny little buttercup blooming amongst the brown dead matter. I earned the nickname Princess Buttercup because of my excitement over this one little flower. But it meant the world to me.

When I started working up here in Alaska, birds flying overhead were just birds. The tundra was just a thick mat of brown sludge to tread over. But if I have learned anything here, it is that everything is something. By which I mean, that bird flying overhead has a name, and it matters. It might be a loon winging past, or a jaeger or a duck--maybe even a snowy owl if you're lucky. And the nameless husks of plants I walked over? I made it my goal to know them all, and fairly well succeeded.

Photo taken on the "desolate" tundra

The eider crew members became like a family, each of us with our unique quirks. On memorable occasions we cut off our own hair to fashion ourselves mustaches just to prank someone, or baked and decorated a cake just to eat it in front of the Cake Eater Road sign.

But mostly, we hiked. We walked--or more appropriately at times, slogged--through miles and miles of the tundra each day. I caught the eider bug, and came to adore the creatures (and identify them from quite a distance).

Seeing double male Steller's eiders

Another incredible part of this adventure has been experiencing a different culture and living very close to it. The Inupiat people give us permission to conduct these studies on their land, and everyone I have met has been very welcoming. We were invited to their gatherings, such as their Fourth of July games where everyone takes part in competitions. I joined in on the annual marathon (two laps around town, or 6 miles), my longest race yet.

In two short months, I have learned a considerable amount. Above all, I think I have begun to think like a scientist. It doesn't come naturally to me. But I was curious about everything I saw here. What appeals to me about science is that it all starts with that--just plain old curiosity. Without it, you have nothing.

You wouldn't have these adorable goslings!

Tomorrow is my last day in Barrow. My last day to soak up this experience. It seems like I just got here but it is already time to move on to new ventures--namely, my junior year of college. Life has to keep moving, as always. But this place is unforgettable. And I have no regrets.

I do not regret doing my required polar plunge shortly after this photo was taken.