In the heart of Alaska, winter starts in October and doesn鈥檛 end until May.
Winter is extremely cold and long. That鈥檚 the way people and wildlife living in Alaska seem to like it.
鈥淢ost of us look forward to winter,鈥� says Susan Georgette, former manager at Selawik National Wildlife Refuge on the western edge of the heart of Alaska. 鈥淥f course, the winters are long, and we鈥檙e all happy for boating season when it finally rolls around again. But we鈥檙e mostly all happy for the return of the cold, snow and darkness.鈥�
Georgette ticks off benefits of winter:
- 鈥淣o mosquitoes.鈥�
- 鈥淲e can travel anywhere over the ice and snow, whereas in summer we鈥檙e limited to the rivers and ocean in our boats. There are no roads here.鈥�
- 鈥淪ubsistence foods can easily be preserved outdoors鈥攃hilled or frozen in our sheds or unheated entryways.鈥�
- 鈥淲e can catch up on our sleep after months of the midnight sun.鈥�
- 鈥淲e can see the stars, moon and Northern Lights again.鈥�
- 鈥淲e鈥檙e not too hot.鈥�
People and wildlife at the national wildlife refuges on the map above live in winter conditions many of us would find hard to imagine.
Because Earth is tilted on its axis, the heart of Alaska is dark for most of the day at the height of winter. From early November to early February, Fairbanks has fewer than seven hours of sunlight a day. On the winter solstice in late December, Fairbanks has 3 hours 41 minutes of sunlight. In Barrow, Alaska鈥檚 northernmost city, the sun sets in mid-November and doesn鈥檛 rise until mid-January.
鈥淢any people imagine the cold and dark as something painful or desolate, but it鈥檚 the absolute opposite,鈥� says Kristin Reakoff, a Kanuti National Wildlife Refuge ranger. 鈥淭here is something complete in Arctic winters, something whole and connected to how things are meant to be. To walk long and hard in snow, winter hush and low light鈥攐ver frozen rivers, across narrow willow bars and through the heart of silent forests, moonlight pulling at the edges of your awareness鈥攊s to know the very essence of being human.鈥�
The record low temperature in Fort Yukon鈥攁 settlement of about 600 people within Yukon Flats National Wildlife Refuge鈥攊s minus 78 degrees Fahrenheit (temperature, not wind chill). If you consider that the record summer high is 100 degrees, this makes for one of the most extreme temperature ranges on Earth (a 178-degree swing).
鈥淥ne moment stands out,鈥� says Delia Vargas Kretsinger, a Yukon Flats Refuge botanist. 鈥淒uring a recent winter project, I stepped outside the cabin late at night, with snow crunching underfoot, to take in the full moon, stars and Northern Lights over Canvasback Lake. After leaving the protective cover of white spruce along the shore to go onto the lake, I was hit with a stiff breeze that took my breath away. Never had I felt so alive in one moment but also insignificant in the larger scope of our universe.鈥�
Many bird, fish and wildlife species spend summer in the heart of Alaska but migrate away when the season turns. Those that stay are biologically adapted to winter.
鈥淎ll the Arctic animals, from the smallest critters to the largest mammals, are uniquely designed not only to survive in the Arctic extremes, but to thrive,鈥� says Kenton Moos, former manager of Koyukuk, Nowitna and Innoko National Wildlife Refuges who is now at Togiak National Wildlife Refuge in southwestern Alaska. 鈥淪ome sleep in insulated burrows, while others are protected by their fur or feathered coats. Others somehow survive frozen, yet alive.鈥�
One example of how animals have evolved for winter: Lynx, snowshoe hares and wolves have large feet in proportion to their body size so they can run on top of the snow.
Deep snow is a boon to some animals and a hindrance to others. For rodents and other small mammals, deep snow is a warm, protective blanket. For moose and caribou, deep snow can make escaping from wolves difficult.
Talk about adaptation. The ptarmigan [pronounced TAR-mi-gen] changes color to blend in with its surroundings. It is pure white in winter (above) and becomes mottled dark and white after the snows melt.
鈥淧tarmigans are the quintessential birds of winter,鈥� says Selawik Refuge outreach specialist Brittany Sweeney. 鈥淭heir color-changing plumage is great camouflage, and provides great insulation. They even have abundant feathers on their feet. Their ability to fly into powdery banks of deep snow鈥攁nd sleep, snug and hidden away鈥攊s a great winter maneuver.鈥�
The aurora borealis鈥攐r Northern Lights鈥攊s caused by collisions between electrically charged particles from the sun that enter Earth鈥檚 atmosphere. The phenomenon is visible across the heart of Alaska in winter.
鈥淟ooking to the night sky and seeing the amazing light show is something difficult to describe with words,鈥� says Kenton Moos. 鈥淭o see the waves of light flowing across the sky is simply awesome.鈥�
As it does in all cold climates, winter replenishes the landscape in Alaska. 鈥淎s an example, ice that forms during the long winter becomes a springtime bulldozer scarring and reshaping river banks and channels,鈥� says Nathan Hawkaluk, who managed Yukon Flats Refuge before moving to Arctic National Wildlife Refuge. 鈥淚ce also creates temporary dams that flood and recharge wetlands and old river channels, creating new habitats and replenishing the old.鈥�
However, over the past 50 years, Alaska has warmed faster than the rest of the United States. The higher temperatures in Alaska are causing earlier spring snowmelt, reduced sea ice, widespread glacier retreat, insect outbreaks, permafrost thawing and more instances of freezing rain.
No glimpse of winter in Alaska would be complete without a nod to the . Although the event鈥檚 precise trail varies annually depending on snow conditions, the 1,000-mile race from Anchorage to Nome often runs through or adjacent to Innoko, Nowitna and Koyukuk Refuges.
In the photo above, former U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service employee Aliy Zirkle and her dogs run on the frozen Yukon River across the northern part of Innoko Refuge during the 2012 Iditarod.
As residents know, the first rule of winter in the heart of Alaska is: Bundle up properly. Every time you go out.
鈥淲e get to know people by their jackets and hats, because for months on end you might not see people without them on,鈥� says Brittany Sweeney. 鈥淲e typically have our faces covered by scarves, too. More than once it has happened that a friend has gotten a new coat, and I鈥檝e walked right past them without recognizing them.鈥�
If you鈥檇 like to experience the exhilaration of winter in the heart of Alaska, one place to start is the recently renovated at Milepost 175 on the Dalton Highway in Coldfoot. If you鈥檙e seeking a warmer, greener experience beneath the midnight sun, the in Coldfoot is open from May to September. Check locally for hours of operation of both centers.
Each spring the frozen rivers of Alaska melt, shift, break up and once again flow as waterways. The images above show stages of the Yukon River breakup.
鈥淚 associate winter with what is happening with the Yukon River,鈥� says Kenton Moos. 鈥� 鈥榃inter鈥� arrives with the start of ice flow on the river, usually around October 1, and ends when the Yukon River breaks about May 15.鈥�
Usually the breakup is relatively smooth. Sometimes it鈥檚 not. The winter of 2012-13 comes to mind.
鈥淲e had nearly a month-and-a-half of temperatures colder than minus 30 degrees Fahrenheit, with extremes of minus 68, and about a 10-day stretch below minus 50,鈥� says Moos. 鈥淭hat was followed with a spring where temperatures were sub-zero well into May. That resulted in an ice jam causing the Yukon River to flood in early June. Most of the village of Galena flooded. It was one of the most challenging years, as we were forced to rehabilitate Fish and Wildlife Service facilities before the winter of 2013-14 began.鈥�
As rapidly as daylight fades in fall, it increases in spring.
鈥淥ne thing that amazes me is how quickly our daylight changes,鈥� says Sweeney. 鈥淧eople often think it鈥檚 dark half of the year, but in actuality the light swings back quickly. We gain roughly seven minutes of light daily after the winter solstice. By the equinox in March, we鈥檙e back to 12 hours of daylight.鈥�
Or, as Nikki Guldager, a pilot/biologist at Yukon Flats Refuge, says:
鈥淥ur spring still looks like winter. It鈥檚 more defined by the lengthening days than if the tulips are coming up.鈥�