Bright fuchsia stands of fireweed lined the road this morning as I drove to work. This ubiquitous Alaskan flower leaps into full bloom late every summer, but it seems that this year they went from unnoticeable to half-bloomed-out overnight. It seems early this year, too, but I think I say that every year in a denial of the passing of summer.
An Alaskan old wives' tale says that when the fireweed are bloomed out, summer is over, and when they've gone to seed, snow is imminent. (I'm sure there are many local variations and takes on this axiom, but this is the gist of them.) While the timing of the events might be debatable depending on where in Alaska one lives, an Alaskan always knows that blooming fireweed signifies the end of summer. It's time to step up the pace of squeezing in all the summer activities, start readying the home for winter, and go to the state fair in Palmer. Oh, yeah, don't forget to keep your raincoat handy at all times.
Every year I tell myself that I want to start keeping a short environment diary to track weather, the comings and goings of birds, flower bloomings, and so on. Have I done it yet? Nope, but I really should. I even found a good idea for how to do it: each day, label a new index card with the date (i.e., August 2). On the first line, put the year and a short comment (this year it might say: 2012 - 46 deg., torrential rain, fireweed blooming). Store the cards in a box so that next year you can pull out that card on August 2, put the year on the second line and another short comment. You'll end up with a perpetual calendar of snippets about whatever you want to write about (weather, personal info, anything). Great idea, isn't it? (I didn't originate the idea, and unfortunately I can't credit the creator.)
One of the reasons I've always wanted to keep some sort of journal to track this sort of information is that I have a mind like a large steel colander. My little brain cells have never been particularly good at retaining information about my personal life. If you'd like to know the genus name for moose, I can tell you (Alces alces). The proper name for my new favorite plant, a type of mountain avens, is Dryas drummondii. My favorite teacher in elementary school? Haven't the foggiest idea. What the winter of 1979 was like? Who knows? Come on, I was 12! Summer of 1997? I was 30, but I still have no idea. I've already been in Alaska for 43 years, but I will never be one of those old timers who can say, "I remember the winter of 19XX. It was a real doozy." (To be honest, I can say that about the winter of 1989-90. I was in Fairbanks for one of the coldest winters on record. Three weeks of -58 degrees F, and I had two flat tires. My car heater didn't work. I'll tell you about it sometime. That is, however, the only one that stands out in my memory.)
After my post the other day about our recent trip to Fielding Lake, Pam asked me on Facebook if I'd noticed any environmental changes in Alaska. I requested that she be so kind as to let me respond in a blog post rather than in a Facebook comment. Hence, the post you are reading. What I'm really hoping is that those of you who have been in Alaska for a number of years will also weigh in with your recollections, having already established that most of mine have escaped my brain sieve.
I grew up in Eagle River, a small community just north of Anchorage. More specifically, from the time I was 6, my family lived at the end of Eagle River Valley, just above where the Nature Center is now. I suspect that living near the head of a narrow valley meant that clouds tended to get trapped by the mountains. We always seemed to get more snow than the town of Eagle River, just 12 miles away. It felt like we got mountains of snow. Every January or early February brought Chinooks, warm winds carrying lots of rain. The world would turn into a sheet of ice. We spent most of the winter walking up our very steep, long driveway.
Over the years, it seemed that the amount of snow we got decreased. When I came home for Christmas my freshman year of college, I was devastated that there was no snow at all. A brown Christmas, how disgusting! It's been 20 years or more since I've lived in Eagle River, so I don't know exactly how the winter weather patterns have changed since then, aside from the fact that the entire Anchorage area received a record snow fall this past winter.
For the past 10 years, I've been living in Valdez, a small town at the head of a fjiord in Prince William Sound known for its winter weather, especially extreme snowfalls. Last year, the Weather Channel declared Valdez to be the snowiest city in the U.S., with over 6 feet more snow on average than the next snowiest city. Every year, summer and winter, I've tried to pay attention to the weather in an effort to identify normal weather patterns. So far, I've been entirely unsuccessful. It seems that we typically get the first snow in early October, with November bringing howling, icy winds. Most of the 300+ inches of snow we get each winter comes after Christmas, usually continuing to fall well into March or April. Our sunniest, driest weather is usually in May and early June, and by mid-July the monsoon season (my description, not an official one) starts, with rains continuing into September. We'll often get a few weeks of nice weather before it snows again. Seldom do we get what I would call storms. Our bay will get completely socked in for days or weeks at a time, clouds pressing heavily on our psyches and dumping loads of rain or snow. When it clears off, that's when the wind will blow. Almost never do we get both wind and rain, the markers of a true storm, in my opinion. Temperatures are never variable enough to allow for thunderheads to build.
In any given year, however, some or all of this can be thrown out the window. This past winter, we had nearly 440 inches of snow before Christmas, and got almost none after. We've had a cold, rainy spring and summer with consistently below "normal" temperatures and slightly above normal rainfall. I've pretty much decided that every year is unique in Valdez, and one should never expect anything. If I remember correctly, "global warming" is leading to more extreme and varied weather in some parts of the globe. I suspect coastal Alaska falls into that mix.
What I can say, from listening to the reports of others who have been in this area longer than me, is that the local glaciers have receded drastically. A century ago, photos show that Valdez Glacier was nearly at the sea's edge. It's now several miles further back, hiding deep in its valley. The same is true of Columbia Glacier and other tidewater glaciers in Prince William Sound. They have receded miles in just 15 - 20 years. These are very obvious signs of climate change; I suspect an observant naturalist would identify many others.
An observant naturalist, that's what I want to be. I know that if I'd been keeping a journal all these years, I'd have a record that would allow me to more definitively identify climate changes over time. Of course, it's not too late. The most drastic changes are still in our future. It remains to be seen when the fireweed will be done blooming in future years.
So, those of you who have been in Alaska for years, what light can you shed on this question? What changes have you seen in Alaska's environment and climate? Any thoughts on what might happen in the future?
