By GREG SARBER
This fall, my daughter drew a sheep hunting permit in the Tok Management Area (TMA), an area reserved for trophy sheep hunting. In preparation for the trip, we discovered that the sheep population had declined due to a recent harsh winter; however, we decided to go anyway. My daughter said that at least it would be a fun camping trip, and if nothing else, climbing hills would be good training for her legs, as she had an audition coming up for the Homer Nutcracker Ballet.
On the second day of the trip, while busting through a hillside of alder bushes to reach the high country, I had some time to contemplate what a peculiar group we residents of Alaska are in how we choose to live and recreate, and that extends to our kids.
Except for those in the military who are posted here, every resident chooses to live here. We have the freedom to move somewhere else, but for some reason, the residents of this state decide to live in Alaska. Our reasons might be for the fishing and hunting, the scenery, a job opportunity, or just to have a little elbow room, but all of us give up easier living outside the state to make our homes here.
However, to do so, we pay a price. Alaska challenges you. Tasks that should be relatively routine become difficult when you add in the Alaska factor. Even residents in our large urban cities face challenges that their counterparts in the lower 48 never have to consider. If you are a gardener, you’d better build a fence that is moose high and porcupine tight before you plant the first seed. Even getting the kids off to school or going to the grocery store can be a challenge with deep snow in the driveway, frost-covered car windows, slippery winter driving conditions, and the potential of encountering a moose in the street or parking lots.
Rural residents face even greater challenges due to the high cost of fuel and groceries. Things that the lower 48 Americans consider essential, become expensive luxuries in much of our state. Throw in long, dark, and cold winters, and you can understand why living here isn’t for the faint of heart. Yet we all choose this place to live.
As I mentioned, I was having these thoughts while walking up through an alder thicket on a steep hillside. If you have never had the opportunity to enjoy that particular pleasure, it isn’t possible for me to adequately put it into words. Let’s put it this way: if alder thicket walking were a potential criminal sentence, the ACLU would sue to have it declared cruel and unusual punishment. It wouldn’t be allowed for even our worst criminals.
It was when we finally got through the alders and above the last of the willow and berry bushes, arriving at the high country, that I remembered why I chose to live in Alaska and wanted to share it with my child. The beauty and solemnity of parts of this state are beyond description. In the high valleys of the Alaska mountains, it feels like you are in one of the magnificent cathedrals of Europe and are standing in the presence of God. My words are inadequate to express the feeling. I wish I were a poet so I could do a better job of describing what it is like.
Reflecting on my trip helped me answer the question of why some of us choose to live here. To do so, we face brutal challenges, like my fight with the Alders. However, the rewards go far beyond the struggle.
Greg Sarber is a lifelong Alaskan. He is a petroleum engineer who spent his career working on Alaska’s North Slope. Now retired, he lives with his family in Homer, Alaska. Greg serves as a board member of Alaska Gold Communications, Inc., the publisher of Must Read Alaska.