Sometimes, you just know that winter is fast approaching. Maybe it's the first frost, or your first Robin sighting. For some, it's digging that old woolen scarf from under the bed, and for others, it's having to use your car lights on the way to work. Today, I didn't wake up to a frost, and I didn't see a Robin. I haven't got a scarf and I wasn't on the way to work, but nevertheless, I just got that feeling that the final season of 2012 was making it's visit to Alaska very soon. Even some of the university trees are prepared for colder weather!
For about a year, a Sunday would mean a few hours of waitering at my local village restaurant, which wasn't always the most relaxing way to end the week, so it's been nice within the last few weeks to lie in on a Sunday, and take it easy. Today, I decided to dedicate the morning to the admin work that's been piling up recently; emails to reply to, next week to plan, permafrost papers to read, so I wasn't surprised that I only made it out the hostel at about midday. I had anticipated to use the hostel bike today, and venture further out into suburban Fairbanks, but with the bike already loaned, it was another day of walking for me. Not that I was disappointed; walking the trails has really been rewarding over the last week, especially because of the wonderful golden leaves that have been slowly but surely floating down to the ground.
My sense that winter was fast approaching really started when I got onto the first forested trail. All of the golden leaves destined to fall, have fallen, leaving the forest understory quite bare. The montonous lack of autumn leaves sometimes gets punctuated by an evergreen spruce or fir, but apart from that, the landscape is one of the native Betula papyrifera (Paper Birch), that as shown below, is currently flaking its thin exterior layer.
Berries are now becoming quite frequently seen on these forest trails. I can't identify them all, but the range of different shapes and sizes of berries has really been quite vast. Most of these berries provide food for the Red Squirrel and many birds, and it seems humans too, as I passed a lady today with a large bowl of red coloured berries. Last night, I had a blueberry muffin, but I doubt they were handpicked from Fairbanks, athough having said that, North America is famous for growing them, so you never know!
I had planned a walk that would take me through the forest to begin with, up to Miller Hill, offering fine views of the city, and back around the western range of the university campus; a walk, I felt whilst planning it last night, would take me through a variety of different landscapes. This was certainly the case, and in fact, even different segments of the forest were quite contrasting. Furthemore, I started the walk through mostly unmanaged forest; fallen timber had not been cleared, and the forest floor was a disorganised mess (but then why should nature be organised?) The second half of the forested trail on my walk, further North, was noticeably more governed. Trails were wider, allowing for possibly more extravagant sports such as skiing and cycling, and it was obvious that trees had been pruned, forming this ladder-like feature on many trunks.
I exited the forest and a short little road-walk brought me to the 'Northern Lights Memorial Park' which reminded me a bit like the city cemetry I saw in Anchorage. What separates these from the graveyards I see all the time in England (Norfolk especially) is the absence of tall lichen-covered tombstones. Here, potted flowers seemed like the tallest object at each burial site, and the more poignant memorials such as the WW2 memorial used more smooth stone that looked like it was regularly cleaned. Indeed, I did spot two people also surveying the courtyard, and I wasn't surprised; it's a tranquil location.
The Northern Lights Memorial Park is located at the crest of Miller Hill; by any means, it isn't the highest point in Fairbanks (I'm yet to do Ester Dome.) From the top though, I got a lovely view of the lower elevations including the boreal forest I had walked through at the beginning of the walk. Not only that, but I could also make out the Denali Mountain Range in the distance, and all of this before yet another dramatic skyline.
As I made my way down the hill, I passed what looked like the other side of Smith Lake that I had visited a couple of days ago. Today's viewing of it didn't seem as picturesque as my first, perhaps because of the clouds or perhaps because from this angle, you don't get the mountain ranges behind the trees. My walk continued, passing several smaller lakes in fact, and there were many opportunities for me to enter the forest and continue onto another trail. Forested-out though for one day, I decided to continue along the road, and gladly so, as I eventually approached a relatively large farm of Reindeer. This farm contains, I would say, 10 or so Reindeer, and about three to every pen. They all seemed to be the same size, but there was some colouration differences; some brown and some more white. I'm reliably informed that Reindeer from the north are more white than those from the south.
The Reindeer visit was a great way to end the walk, and I made my way back to the hostel. If you've been an avid reader of 'Geography with Dan' over the last week or so, you would know that a fellow Hosteller, Joe, has been constructing a tipi. Don't ask me why! Well, I can now reveal that it is complete, although he hasn't got an entrance at the moment. As I said in the beginning of this post, winter is fast approaching, but it seems- for some hostellers, anyway- that minus 40 degree temperatures are no obstacle!
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