Riding the Arctic Ocean

-----Original Message-----
From: Jeri Fink
Sent: Sunday, February 25, 2001 2:43 AM
Subject: Riding the Arctic Ocean

Hi from Alaska.

The first layer was thermals. The second layer was fleece. The third layer was Arctic gear - super insulated fabric that crinkles when you walk: a bib and parka, head sock, tinted goggles, below-zero gloves and "bunny" boots.

Rod and Roger, two teachers from Ipalook Elementary School were taking me snowmobiling. "We'll drive to Barrow point," Rod grinned. "The northernmost end of the United States."

It was -40 degrees with a wind chill factor of -100.

I rode with Roger. "I've got heated handgrips," he explained. "You'll need them. It's pretty cold out there." We sped through town, slid down a hill and Roger yelled into the wind, "now we're riding on the Arctic Ocean."

Everything was white and frozen, the ice rising like white caps, mingling with glistening turquoise slabs of trapped polar ice. The sky was watercolor gray -- the sun hung low on the horizon, a cool yellow sphere with no warmth. The frigid wind assaulted us, hungry for bare skin. "It doesn't take much for frostbite to set in," Rod warned. "Make sure everything is covered."

How can I describe the exhilaration of flying, fifty miles an hour, on top of the world? There was nothing in sight but ice, snow and whalebones left over from the last Eskimo hunt before winter. My heart raced as my breath made icicles. The ocean blended into the sky until it became difficult to tell where one began and the other ended. It was beautiful and harsh, compelling and foreboding -- a moment in time that I'll never forget.

Check out this picture. In the foreground is a leftover bone from the whale hunt. Beyond, are the snowmobiles - parked on the Arctic Ocean.