Hit The Ground Running (And Talking...A Lot.)

The following is my first guest blog post for KNOM's Volunteer Blog.

Just over a month ago you might have been able to find me traversing a waterway in Eastern Tennessee in chest-high waders collecting samples of water discharges. Just a year before that you could have found me in the wilderness of Northern California decked out in wildland firefighting gear cutting fire lines up a mountainside. Naturally now I find myself in an office lined with LPs, and a desk covered with everything from scripts outlining all of the important notables on The Paper Route’s newest album, to chicken-scratched post-it notes on how to properly execute the daily weather roundup. I suppose that radio work is the clichéd next stepping-stone after environmental and firefighting work, right? Nonetheless here I am with headphones around my neck, a stack of cds anxiously awaiting to be heard by my side, a big white text box expecting me to input my very first KNOM Volunteer blog post inside of it, and a big smile on my face for realizing that I have finally made the move from being an avid reader of this blog to becoming a contributor.

Obviously things move fast here at KNOM. The part of my brain that realizes I only hopped off of the plane into Nome two weeks ago knows that things are clipping along fairly quickly in my foray into being a KNOM Volunteer, however the part of me that lives in the moment here realized that despite its relative speed, things here simultaneously with a slow, steady, and patient gait. For example, if you had told me my first week I’d be able to sit behind a mixing board and DJ for a three hour shift without totally dropping the ball every time I opened the mic or pressed a button come my second week, I probably wouldn’t have believed you. Alas, here I am in week number two feeling fairly well at ease with the my upcoming Fist-Pound Show with Community DJ, Tousana, at the end of my shift today, as well as a sense of pride from finishing my very first Music Detour show to be aired next month. Everyone here told me that I would pick up on things before my training period was out. I don’t know if I believed them after my first few days of crash-courses in radio, but I am beginning to think they were right after all.

Me pretending to know what I am doing with some degree of success!

My short tenure here as a citizen of Nome has already given me plenty of reasons to fall head over heels for this place. I don’t even know what to begin talking about during my weekend phone calls back home. I’ve spent hours in awe of the Bering Sea, petted a reindeer, had my voice carried to distant places that I can’t even fathom, taken photos of a beached whale, hiked beautiful Anvil Mountain, and just yesterday I ate my very first caribou burger. I don’t think a regular lower-48 fast food meat and bread pairing will ever satisfy me again.

I look forward to sharing my many upcoming adventures here at KNOM and in Nome this next year. I am sure all of us upcoming volunteers are on board for what it going to be an incredible, inspiring, and hopefully caribou meat filled ride.

Little Wonders and Big Whales

It has been a beautiful weekend here in Nome.  The sun is shining (day and night I should mention), the sea breeze is blowing, and the only sounds outside of my window are waves crashing and the sound of kids playing on the street. 

The view from the back porch of the volunteer house.

Though I have walked the the perimeter of the bulk of the town several times, I never cease to find something new to ponder and snap a photo of.  I think that is part of the magic behind Nome, Alaska.  For being a town so small in its population and spread, it holds a vast amount of little wonders.  And what is life without all of the little wonders?

A rather large wonder happened my way that I have been checking up on throughout the week.  A beached whale was found on Friday morning just a couple of blocks from the station.  Sadly, by the time it was discovered it had already passed.  The corpse however was photo documented and observations concerning it were sent to the University of Alaska, Fairbanks.  I've visited it a couple of times this past week as the waves move it along the shore.

This is with the tail facing the camera.

A seagull has to do what a seagull has to do.

...and one just because I was feeling a bit artsy.

I have managed to find some time to breakaway from photographing large marine mammal carcasses though.  Below are the results of my walking around town paired with my obsession with making everything look like it came out of a photo album from 1967.

This here...this is an awesome house.

I found a matching limb three miles away.  Seriously.

At the Alaska National Guard Armory.

I doubt I'll grow tired of living this close to the Bering Sea.

No reason.  I just like creepy, old looking photos.

Before I drown you out with more pictures I should go.  Stick with me though as I am bound to have more adventures coming up as I am determined to use some of my free time to do more than take pictures of abandoned things. 

Here's to another, hopefully dead whale free, week of learning how to operate all of those flashing buttons and sliders at the radio station.

Baby Steps, Josh, Baby Steps...

My oh my, what a week it has been.

To say that I had to hit the ground running at the start of this work week is an understatement.  In fact it often feels like I am sprinting just to keep my head above water.  Yeah, I know, I am mixing my running and swimming metaphors, but stick with me - this week was a challenge.

Since Monday morning I have gone from zero radio experience to sitting in on and even hosting several DJ shifts, flubbed my words more than a handful of times in front of Western Alaska and whoever might be tuning in Russia wise, and have been given basic training on everything from news reporting to radio tower maintenance.  Come Friday I felt that my brain was merely a dish sponge with gallons upon gallons of water being poured upon it that would just bounce off of the already saturated surface. 

Geeze.  I've really gotta start working on my metaphors.

I tend to be a hard on myself about doing well in my work, and I know I should certainly lighten up considering that it is only my first week working in an entirely different field, but I certainly look forward to the day I feel proficient at this whole DJ gig.  I believe I have a grasp on he production part - making shows, inputting new music to play, creating spots.  It is the actual time spent with the microphone in front of me that wierds me out a bit.  Sure, it is nerve wracking trying  not to say something completely idiotic or inappropriate to thousands of listeners, but what really stumps me is the timing, multitasking, and technology behind it all.  I am sure I have asked the three same questions revolving around my DJ sets at least a dozen times over to a number of staff members at the station.  Luckily they are all kind enough not to smack me in the face with a paperweight whenever they see me approaching their desk.

Again,  I do tend to be more than a little self-critical so I shouldn't concentrate on these feelings too much.  I just hope that my fellow volunteers arriving soon grasp on to these concepts more seamlessly than I have. 

I am sure they will.

Hopefully next week I'll be entertaining you with tales of my on-air wit and technological capability.  Until then I'll be trying to free up some space in the ol' sponge.

FUDSicles.

Overlooking Nome like some alien colony who never took any lessons in subtlety, the White Alice telecommunication settlement of World War II had been the premise of many of my google searches before reaching Nome.  I don't know why exactly but I have always had a fascination with both A. Space-esque futuristic things and B. Abandoned buildings.  Short of finding a defunct Planetarium, the White Alice site is paradise for someone like me.  While most FUDS (Formerly Used Defense Sites) such as the White Alice in Nome are being completely dismantled, this particular site has been chosen for preservation by city officials due to public demand.  While the Nome site is nothing like what it apparently used to be, I think it is fantastic that at the very least the ominous towers on the horizon will be a sight to see for years to come.

The view not far from where I live.

It is thanks to my fellow KNOM-ers that I got a chance to visit this awesome place today.  We drove just a few miles out of town to see where folks live who wish to apparently escape the crowd of Nome if you will.  How the population even just a few miles outside of the city manages to get supplies in the winter is beyond me, but hey, more power to them.  Perhaps the chance to get to look at the rolling hills over the Bering Sea is reason enough to live away from town.  I know I certainly felt a calling to this particular area.

The fog covering the distant comm towers gave everything an almost Prypiat feeling to it.  Every once and a while you would here the sound of metal scraping against itself as a worker on the top of the mountain was dismantling part of the White Alice framework out of eyesight.  Aside from that, the hike was eerily quiet.  Short of playing a few hours of Skyrim, I don't think I've ever had a hiking experience quite like this before.

Never before have I been in such fog. 

Bones and a blanket.  You tell me.

Bone.  I'm presuming from a dragon.

This seems normal and not out of place at all.

The 'Anvil'.

Apparently there is a good view from the rocks...just not today.

Bekah and Matt acting as my tour guides.

Obviously I'm not a great sign follower.

Arriving at the White Alice site.

One of the towers in the process of asbestos removal.

This lone fellow with the military stopped to talk with us a bit about the site.

Sepia toned for your pleasure.

On our way back down the mountain we ran across these muskox.

Before, this was the only sighting of muskox I had experienced.

All in all it was a great, surreal kind of day.  I can't wait to get back up there again.  Until then White Alice will have her eye on me and mine on her.

Wish me luck tomorrow as it is my first day working at the radio station!

Of Layovers, Laundry, and Lingerie

After an extended layover in Anchorage due to what was apparently a considerable amount of rain in Kotzebue and Nome I have finally made it to my destination. While I was fine perusing the shops in the Ted Stevens airport, a more restless man encouraged an Alaska Air employee to talk to his mother on his cell phone as Mom apparently claimed that the weather was clear and fine.  Later another man said he was phoning Kotzebue so his aunt could also confirm that our plane was clear to land.  Apparently weather in Alaska is maintained by a complex matriarchy of keen relatives.

Auntie and Mom must've been looking out of the wrong window because it was nothing but rain and fog once we lifted out of Anchorage.  The leg of my trip that took me to Kotzebue was delightfully tense.  As our stewardess began explaining the safety features of the 737 we were on, which by the way I always pay attention to only due to the fear that for some reason the flight attendant will take it personally if I don't, our seats were pointed out as having floatation devices under them.  This bit of information was quickly followed up with "Oh, I'm sorry, not this plane, no.  I apologize, it is pretty late".  I never learned from our sleepy stewardess if there were indeed flotation devices or not.  I guess that in the event of a water landing it really isn't any of my business anyways.  She also mentioned in that same spiel that we'd be flying at an altitude of 37 feet which, if I'm not mistaken, was incorrect.

We might as well have been flying at 37 feet when I first saw Kotzebue through the fog.  I have heard it be called the most interesting landing experience you can endure on a commercial flight in my travel books about Alaska.  Just as you think that the pilot has gone rogue and is going to skip the plane like a smooth rock onto the shore, you land on a piece of runway that at first glance looks like a residential driveway of only moderate length. Just as you breathe a sigh of relief that you reached the land without said rock-skipping, you realize that the plane is once more drawing near the other end of the isthmus.  At this point I closed my eyes which must have evoked some kind of protective magic because I disembarked the plane via the stairs and not the life raft.

Kotzebue - an Inupiat word which I am pretty sure translates into "Oh God, we're not gonna make it".

I arrived in Nome to a warm welcome from KNOM volunteers and staff members with the radio station's banner in hand.  It was great to see so many of the friendly faces that I interviewed with months ago as well as new folks whom I will be working alongside.  As if landing in Nome wasn't surreal enough, when I got into the station vehicle to make it to my new home, we listened to the very radio station that I will soon be on.  After what felt like a few days of sleeping beside drink machines in airports across the US, none of the wires in my head were connecting about actually starting the experience I have been waiting months for.

After some much needed sleep I am a little more aware of what has transpired though much of it still doesn't seem real.  While I can acknowledge my shift in geography, it is the part about working for the radio station that I can't wrap my head around.  I can't wait to begin my training on Monday.  I just hope that I can show some semblance of capability once I get to work.

The current volunteers, who will be leaving within the next few weeks leaving the house clear for myself and four brand new folks, have been very accommodating in showing me around Nome.  I got an excellent guided tour yesterday from Matthew who not only is a station volunteer but a pretty active community member and a volunteer EMT for the city.  I got to see all of the important stuff - Town Hall, the Post Office, and of course, KNOM. 

Matthew mentioned I needed to meet Velvet Eyes.  As we walked up to a trailer with Christmas lights strung in and around the fence I couldn't help but wonder if he was leading me to the town clairvoyant but alas Velvet was little more than a reindeer with a trailer all to herself.  I'm not saying she can't read the future just because she's a reindeer, she just seemed preoccupied with a corn cob and discarded arugula.

To end the night I was taken to what is probably the most conventional eatery here (including the very bizarre Subway) for pizza.  A $22 pizza, some live music from a member of the Mormon community here, and a few yawns later I was pretty ready to pass out from 23 1/2 hours of traveling.

I put my night of welcomed rest to good use today to get some of the touristy picture taking and sight seeing out of the way.  When I stopped by the visitors center to grab a map the attendant joked that she could provide me with a number of maps and brochures but really all that you need are none.

This must be why gold miners are so rugged.  It must take twenty men to lift this pan ;)

I was going to ask this guy for directions but he seemed busy.

Nome's main thoroughfare.

....wait.  Lingerie?

Mark's Suds and Soap.  It is bar and a laundromat.  No - for real.

The Bering Sea.

At the Visitor's Center.

Hello Whimsy!

Given my recent history with stormwater

Not a unicorn, but still worth a photograph.

The box I arrived in.

For questionably real things visit Existential Mart across the street.

KNOM

Town Square.  Check out those planters made from old mining equipment!

The '3 Swedes'.  Apparently they put Nome on the map.  Less apparently one was not actually a Swede.

Well I'd keep posting photos but I am starting to feel like one of those people who invites you over to show you their Hawaii vacation slides from fifteen years ago.  So until next time...

100% Flammable.

Two weeks ago riding in the car with my Mom:


Me: Mom, what should I wear on my travel day to Alaska from Charlotte?

Mom: Something that won't melt to your flesh if the plane crashes.


That's my mother, showing support in the way she knows best - through morbid half-advice that assures my next underwear purchase will be 100% cotton.  Well, whatever works I suppose.

Underclothing aside and on, tomorrow is the big departure day.  This time tomorrow I will be getting close to the last leg of my journey that spans from 3pm East Coast Time to about 7am Crazy Super Far Away Time. 

I spent this last full day in NC saying as many goodbyes as I could possibly fit in.  Strangely however I don't believe the feeling behind the goodbyes won't truly hit me until I'm actually on the plane.  All of this seems so surreal.

Luckily I will have the comfort, support, and dependability that only non-flesh melting underwear can provide with me.  It helps keep it all in perspective.