We walked in the snow and the ice,
The moonlight was ever so nice,
Ignore all the clocks,
Watch out for the fox
Who goes out eating lemmings and mice.
The intense arctic cold doesn’t stop Bethany and me from going outside. Under a full moon, with clear skies, we walked out to the airport last night; the wind chill dropped the effective temperature to -35 degrees Fahrenheit. My breath condensed on the faux fur ruff of my parka as well as my beard, which led to our evening discussion of hoods trimmed in fur.
Hunters eagerly seek the wolverine here, but I also see wolf, beaver, lynx, otter, arctic fox, grey fox, and red fox on outer wear. Tanning skins taken locally falls to the women and the women get the best of the furs; men, for the most part, get the trimmings.
Most arctic fox in this area carry rabies.
Snow crunches at high frequency in this weather. Barrow receives little precipitation, less than five inches per year on average, so when snow falls the wind blows the ground bare between snow drifts. Nonetheless moonlight here on a clear night comes in with a “very bright” rating.
The afternoon clinic ran busy and ran late; I worked through the dinner hour and finished fatigued. Both yesterday and today I took care of four people in one family in one room.
The outpatient area of Samuel Simmonds Memorial Hospital has six exam rooms and an ER with two bays. The first patient of the afternoon was quite ill and needed a good deal of medical care, staying in the department for three hours. Patients who signed in at 4:30 didn’t get seen till after seven.
Most patients today had cough with or without fever; the circulating syndrome apparently started on Friday, and the virus has gone ripping through town. As usual, those sickest before the epidemic suffer more during the epidemic.
I find great pleasure in the side conversations I have with the hunters here. I can pick out whalers most of the time by the glow on their faces.
Two days ago Bethany and I walked to the store. It wouldn’t rate as an adventure if it hadn’t happened with -45 degree wind chills, and a full moon that didn’t set. Our glasses grew layers of ice, as the wind whipped wisps of snow along the ground. We found good traction on the hard dirt roads that have been snow-packed by vehicles but textured by machine.
The grocery store ranks as a medium-sized supermarket. The ammunition section comes well stocked with common calibers like .223, .45 ACP and 7.62×39. The presence of a good selection of .22 Hornet surprised me.
The fact of nectarines from Chile in the produce section at $4.50 a pound astounded me. I can remember saying my mother saying that a hundred years ago kings couldn’t get what can be commonly found in a grocery store; stone fruit in the middle of winter ranks as a triumph of modern man. I said, “Bethany, I’m buying some. Contrast is the essence of meaning.”
Tags: .22 Hornet, .223, .45 ACP, ammunition, arctic fox, contrast is the essence of meaning, cough, faux fur, fever, fox, fur, grocery store, lemmings, nectarines, rabies, ruff, Samel Simmonds Memorial Hospital, snow, wolverine