Blackout on Bird Creek
Posted on Monday, December 28th, 2009
(Ice climbing at Caribou Creek helps pass the blackout.)
The snow started lightly falling Thursday afternoon. By Saturday night, our cabin had received somewhere between a foot and two feet of heavy, wet snow. Not an excessive amount, to be sure, but given the weight of this snow, it wasn’t too surprising when we woke up Sunday morning to no power. As all of Bird Creek was blacked out, we didn’t think it would take that long for it to be restored. After a day of skiing and Christmas tree cutting, we headed back home, sure that the power would be back.
But despite the obvious electricity at the gas station down the road and at the houses on the streets around ours, our street was still without power. When we awoke to darkness again Monday morning, ice climbing at Caribou Creek, a couple of hours north, seemed like a great idea. A lap on Kid Around the Corner made for a fun afternoon, even if it was a bit wet. Okay, very wet. But fun nevertheless.
(Christmas tree wrangling on Turnagain Pass.)
Heading home, we approached Anchorage, contemplating stopping for more candles and propane. We had run out the night before and were relying on headlamps during the 18 hours of darkness south-central Alaska experiences in December. We were also running low on water — our well has an electric pump — but had enough to last another day or so with the help of some melted snow. It had been two days; surely the power would be back.
Bad decision. We hit Turnagain Arm and more heavy, wet snow, now accompanied by 60-mph winds gusting to 80 mph. But there were lights on at our neighbors’ houses, so we were hopeful. Hope disappeared as we turned up the driveway and saw the darkness that awaited us at the end. After getting yet another fire going in the woodstove — electricity is also needed for the furnace’s fan — we began melting more snow.
(It’s useful to have an outhouse when you lose power.)
Tuesday morning dawned dark again. The snow had turned to rain overnight, and the winds were still howling. On the way home from work, we stocked up: more than 20 candles, six canisters of propane, and refilled water containers. Figuring that we were prepared, we assumed the power would be back. No such luck. But with the woodstove cranking and about 16 candles burning in various beer and wine bottles we scavenged from the recycling bin, it was a cozy evening.
By Wednesday, it had been four days since we last had electricity, a working furnace and running water. Everyone else in the vicinity had power; the Christmas lights twinkling at us through the woods seemed to mock us every time we looked out from our dark house. Much of my morning at work was spent on the phone with the power company trying to get answers.
The forecast was for a cold front to come through with temperatures in the lower teens the next few days. Without power for the heater tape for our pipes, we were worried they would freeze. We were told that the power company was on its way to the house, but workers had been out twice before with no results.
(Old school: Woodstove and candles make for pretty light, and survival.)
We headed home after work, resigned to another dark night. But as we turned up the driveway, we saw our Christmas lights glowing in the distance. The only thing missing was a note from the power company with that traditional Bird Creek phrase, “Sorry for everything.”
Renee McFarland is an Inspired Mountain Ambassador who lives outside Anchorage, Alaska. A public defender by day, she spends her days off climbing, hiking and thinking about learning to ski.
