Farewell, Latitude 65!  I've procrastinated writing this post for long enough.

Collin's new gig flying the Pilatus for AeroFlite has him rooted in Spokane, WA.  We tried to figure out a way to both: stay here and work there, but it's been too hard.  He's been gone since early May, only home for a couple of stints here and there.  We made the hard decision to pull up the stakes in Fairbanks.

We half-heartedly listed the house; it went under contract in two days.  We hoped it would't appraise; it did.  We hoped the buyers couldn't get financed; they could.  We half-hoped the engineer's report or septic inspection turned up something catastrophic to blow the deal; didn't happen.

So here it is, two years and two days after Luna and I arrived in Fairbanks, I've got boxes all over the house and I'm loading up.  By the end of the week, I'll be headed southbound on the Al-Can, as far as Spokane.  Hey, it's only 2200 miles, as opposed to the 3300 coming up from Colorado (below).  Should be a piece of cake!

I will have a few more posts here, I'm sure.  I don't imagine starting another in Spokane: "Life at Latitude 47" just doesn't have the same ring to it!

Some recent events have made me laugh and other made me cry from my log cabin perch over the Tanana River.

I still can't get over the funny vernacular of Alaskans when referring to the rest of the country, the country to which belong.  In the past two days, I've been at the receiving end of the following:

From a man doing some maintenance around our home: So, when are you leaving for America?
From a friend dealing with some health issues, lamenting the medical care in Fairbanks: I don't want to have to fly Outside everytime I need to see a damn doctor!

I'm sorry, I still laugh even as I have begun to adopt it as well.  Okay, I've never referred to the rest of the country as "America" as if I were somewhere else, but using "Outside" rolls right off my tongue these days, though I still chuckle at myself.

And on to the tragedy.  Last Sunday a series of emergency vehicles approached and slowed to a stop near my home.  It turned out that a propane leak and subsequent explosion severely injured and burned five people in a neighboring home.  I know 3 of the 5, to varying degrees.  All of whom were medivac-ed to Seattle in serious to critical condition.  Details are few but I hear that all five are steadily improving.

​Sad and life changing for all involved, three of whom are in their 20s.  Just a sober reminder of how quickly things can change in the blink of eye...  Here's to good healing Ellen, David, Morganne, Colin and Meadow!

1. Refer to the other 49 states as ‘Outside.’
For example: “I’m going Outside for Christmas” or “Lindsey went Outside for university.”
DONE
 
2. Just call them ‘the lights.’
It’s less of a mouthful than adding ‘Northern.’ And we never say ‘Aurora Borealis,’ that’s nonsense.
DONE
 
3. Remember, it’s a snow machine.
Snow machine. Not snowmobile. We’re cooler than that.
DONE
 
4. Live in a dry cabin.
That means without running water. Lick your dishes clean after each meal so you can keep using the same ones, shower at work, and bless whoever invented the foam toilet seat that protects your sensitive bum from the shock of wood, plastic, or porcelain in a negative whatever degree outhouse.
HALF CREDIT? We Live in a cabin that's not dry, but have an outhouse, complete with a foam toilet seat.
 
5. Only mention that a day is cold if it is -10F or below.
Add a few layers of Carhartt and invest in some Smartwools. You’ll adjust, I promise.
DONE (I don't pull out the warmest, down jacket until it's below -10 F.)
 
6. Only drink black coffee.
In 2005, Anchorage had the most coffee shops per capita (2.8 shops per 1,000 residents) of any city in the country. So yeah, coffee is a major vice for us.
DONE, always black.
 
7. Whatever you consider to be casual clothing, take it down at least two notches.
If an event lists attire as “Fairbanks casual” feel free to don those unwashed jeans or only-kinda-stained pants you wear around the house. Basically, shoot for an overall look along the lines of “clean lumberjack” and you’ll be good to go.
DONE.  This is true, yet also frustrating when you have fun and fashionable clothing taking up space in your closet.
 
8. Furnish your life from the transfer station.
The boroughs (Alaska has boroughs, not counties) set up sites called transfer stations. They’re filled with dumpsters for households to bring their trash to. Many of the larger transfer stations also have covered areas to leave things still deemed usable. People leave everything from mismatched Tupperware to clothing to furniture. I found nearly my whole “clean lumberjack” outfit there along with rugs, kitchen gadgets, and much of my food.
NOPE.  While we have contributed to our local transfer station, we’ve never once put anything BACK into the car once there.  Yet.  Watching the "one-man's trash" behavior at these places, I think there would be a huge viewing audience if they had live webcams operating.
 
9. Invest in a winter hobby.
Because you’re probably losing more than 6 minutes of daylight every 24 hours. Come winter solstice you’ll be down to 4.5 hours. When it hurts to go outside and on top of that it’s dark all the time, you will need something to keep your spirits up.
DONE.  Snowshoes and cross-country skis for playing on the frozen rivers with Luna.
 
10. Actually stay for the winter.
You’re not truly Alaskan until you’ve stayed a winter here. And staying in Anchorage doesn’t count.
DONE x 2.
 
11. Embrace your natural insulative qualities.
If you’re male and genetically capable, grow a beard. Not only will it help you fit in here, it’ll protect your face. And ladies, let’s be real, we’ll be wearing pants and long sleeves for the foreseeable future and probably be showering at work because we don’t have running water at home — so no shaving necessary.
DONE.  Another insulating quality?  Body fat!  I’ve gained what I lovingly refer to as the “Fairbanks 15” since moving here.
 
12. Add a foraging element to every summer outing.
Food from the grocery store is expensive and probably going to go bad soon because it was shipped from so far away. Food from your backyard or neighborhood is free and tasty. Plus, nothing compares to fiddleheads sauteed in garlic.
DONE.  Mushrooms, cranberries, blueberries, rosehips, spruce tips, and lots of wildflowers.
 
13. Develop your moose-themed stories.
Because everyone has a moose story.
DONE.  Seen them grazing in lakes, running across the road, hanging out at the hot springs resort, grazing in our front yard, etc., etc.
 
14. Just forget about high-speed internet.
Be thankful that it’s no longer dial up and dream of the day when Google Fiber weaves the world together.
DONE.  Argh!!  $100/month for something like <3 mbps?!
 
15. Whenever someone says they’re from Anchorage say: “What? North Seattle?”
Just like the Alaskan saying says, Anchorage is the closest city outside of Alaska.
PENDING.  I haven’t said this yet, but we have plenty of friends living in the Anchorage area to abuse with this sentiment.  It's true, Fairbanks is where things get real in Alaska, especially #'s 4, 5, 7, 10 and 14 above!

The past couple of weeks I've done some fun paddle boarding.  One was actually a YOGA class on paddle boards.  Yes, imagine doing a 3-legged dog, among other poses, on a paddle board.  On a lake.  In Alaska.  Needless to say, photos NOT included.

Then Collin was here for a few days of R&R, so we set out for Tanana Lakes with our rental boards.  Our plan was to stay close to shore so Luna could run around, do a little wading, etc.  However, the wind was strong, we were blown out further than planned, and she decided to make a swim for us.  Voila: a paddle board dog was born, sorta.  We're encouraging her to work on her dismount so as not to dislodge her paddle partner, tho.