A journalist observes life in the far north.
The Open North American sled dog races have taken over downtown Fairbanks, and dusk is lasting until almost 9pm. This—when the trees turn to shadows—is a good time of day to look out the windows of our house. A royal blue sky grows dims in the east. The western sky is light blue, turning pink and then orange at the tops of the hills, which are so dark that the trees disappear and it looks like our view has been made into a painting that was torn in half and placed on a black canvas.
Alec’s dad, Don, returned home Thursday from three months of salsa dancing in Columbia. He’s happy, refreshed and hoping for snow and moderate temperatures so he can ski. We had a small family reunion over Thai food at Don’s last night. Alec talked to his Dad mostly about Alaskan Granite, his business, which will have to operate without the boss for more than two months, and the upcoming Everest climb.
Reports are that the Chinese government is getting nervous about the Olympic torch going over Mt. Everest without a hitch, so the government is restricting access on the mountain, I think to try to subdue the people in Tibet, who are rioting because they don’t want to be ruled by China anymore. Nepal has agreed to restrict access too. Alec’s lead guide has been reassuring, but there hasn’t been an e-mail from him in a few days. If Everest is called off, Al proposed that we climb Denali together. I told him that if we leave for Denali tomorrow, I might get to the top by July.
Three generations of the Turner clan.
Lucky playing on the floor at Grandpa’s.