Outside of Deadhorse, we drove through fields that provide oil which flows through the trans-Alaska pipeline to Valdez. Oliktok is northwest of Deadhorse, and I was told it is the farthest north you can drive in North America. Oliktok Point is a spit of land that juts into the ocean, and the US Air Force maintains a radar site for scanning the skies along the northern coast. The radar site was built during the Cold War, and is one of several such sites scattered along the coasts of Alaska.

Oliktok is much different than either Deadhorse or Kaktovik (a town farther east on the Alaska coast). The radar site is normally operated by crews of 2 people, but rooms and meals can be provided for up to 12. An oil drilling facility is just down the coast, but this area feels much more isolated. The living quarters are in a single long, narrow building that seems like a ship on the inside. All visitors here are required to watch an informational video about polar bear safety. Polar bears are frequently seen in the area and in fact, a tragic attack occurred here in 1993. A polar bear broke through a closed window to attack a man sitting in the living space. The bear mauled the man and other people at the facility were forced to shoot it. You can read the full story here. Since then, precautions have been taken to make the facility safer, such as placing grating over the windows. Such an attack is an incredibly rare event, but serves as a reminder to use caution in the habitats of wild animals.

Skies were blue and temperatures climbed into the upper 60s (Fahrenheit) and maybe even 70s our first several days here. This unseasonable heat felt odd – I expected to be wearing a light winter coat rather than a t-shirt. Yesterday heavy fog and cooler temperatures returned. Hopefully skies will clear and we will be able to fly again tomorrow. The tundra is completely transformed from May, and summer is in full bloom.

A tundra-covered island off the coast, pocked with small ponds.

A large herd of caribou, grazing near piles of driftwood on the coast.

Thus far we have caught two adult females, each with twin male cubs. It is great to see bears again. After working with polar bears last August, last October, in the spring this year, and now seeing them again in August, I am beginning to get a better understanding of their annual patterns. For example, their fur is much thinner in August and many bears are still shedding heavily. By October, their fur was deeper, and by spring the fur was quite deep with very distinct layers of coarse guard fur and thick underfur.

The fact that the Arctic is so cold is one of the reasons we are studying polar bears – they are superbly adapted to cold temperatures, but how do they fare in the summer, when temperatures can reach over 50 degrees (unbearably warm for a polar bear)? Summer also means lots of sunshine – on the northern coast of Alaska the sun does not set for about 2 months in the middle of summer. Already, in mid-April, days are quite long.

I took this photo of Deadhorse last night at about 1045pm, as the sun was finally setting and twilight remained. The view is from the front door of our lab.

For lab space, we have rented a large trailer from a charter air service company (Bald Mountain). We are also renting several bedrooms in their living space. The setup is convenient for our research – we can wake up next door to our lab, as well as load up our helicopters for captures in front of the lab.

Our lab space is in the white trailer with several doors. Behind is the large hangar that houses the charter air service company.

Past the hangar, the tundra opens up with lots of drifts and sculpted snow.

I have been up here for several days already, unpacking and organizing our bottomless piles of gear. My two advisors and a technician are set to join me shortly, and we will begin our capture work. However, plans are changing. The United States Geological Survey (USGS), with whom we collaborate for capture work, is already in the midst of their capture work based out of a tiny town about 120 miles to the east, called Kaktovik. One of their crew needs to leave several days early and they need me for an extra pair of hands for a couple days. I had already planned to fly to Kaktovik for evening, to participate in a community meeting about polar bear research – I will stay an extra day to help out.

Simultaneously, one of my advisors and the technician will not make it up here on their scheduled flight; a blizzard in the central Rocky Mountains has closed almost all the roads out of Laramie, Wyoming, and flights out of Denver are canceled. The already-rapid pace of preparations has picked up to accommodate these changes.

Permafrost gone soft

“Not only has climate change begun, but we are seeing a significant impact,” said Wayne Pollard from McGill University in Montreal, Canada in his plenary talk on “The effects of climate change on polar landscapes.” His talked focused on the Arctic permafrost, which refers to ground that has remained frozen for a minimum of 2 years and as many as several thousands of years. More than 25% of the Earth’s land surface is considered permafrost, comprising 50% of Canada, 80% of Alaska, and 60% of Russia. Pollard reported that permafrost regions are one of the most sensitive and severely affected by climate change. He further stated, “40-60% of the permafrost could disappear in the next 100 years.”

Melting permafrost from above.

The melting permafrost causes a host of problems for local Arctic populations and the environment. As a solid landmass, permafrost provides stability to Arctic slopes. In contrast, “when the permafrost melts, it turns into a slurry of liquefied mud, referred to as a thermokarst. The result is thaw lakes and tundra ponds and frozen peat turning into vast wetlands,” says Pollard. Thawing permafrost combined with reduced sea-ice and increased storm activity will collectively increase the erosion of Arctic coastlines, directly impacting coastal communities, culturally important sites and industrial facilities.

In Shishmaref, Alaska, melting permafrost has contributed to major erosion, forcing residents to consider moving the entire village to a new location.

Most alarming is the global effects of melting permafrost. Scientists have reported that Arctic soils hold 30 percent or more of all the carbon stored in soils worldwide. When it is frozen, the permafrost acts as a sink for carbon dioxide and methane, two of the major greenhouse gases. Pollard explained that now as it melts, it will become a source. Since the conference, even more alarming results have been reported. Edward A.G. Schuur of the University of Florida and an international group of coauthors has shown that the melting permafrost is a far larger source for greenhouse gases than previously believed and will indeed further contribute to global warming. See the September, 2008 press release at
http://www.aibs.org/bioscience-press-releases/080828_thawing_permafrost_likely_to_boost_global_warming.html

The summer tundra.

COLVILLE RIVER, ALASKA– The four-person crew for this second float of the summer is led by Greta Myerchin and myself, both veterans of the first trip (Nimiuktuk/Noatak) and familiar with the science and wilderness protocols. We’re joined by Ben Gaglioti, a graduate student in biology and master of Arctic vegetation, and Ty Spaulding, an undergraduate biology major at University of Alaska Anchorage with an obsession for wolves that is revealed in sprawling tattoos.

Our first sampling site and campsite. Yes, this is actually a river, not a lake, as it sometimes seems.

The new crew quickly became familiar with the sampling protocol, and science is underway in the remote Arctic tundra. We are sampling in locations where old and new photographs of the same landscape show that changes in vegetation have occurred in certain areas, while others are unchanged. Specifically, we are interested in comparing plant, soil, and environmental properties between areas that have changed and those that have not changed. Because we seek to generalize about large parts of the Arctic, we are floating across Arctic Alaska and sampling where this ‘repeat photography’ is available.

After one day of field work, we broke camp in the morning and loaded the raft to head downstream. Besides abundant bird life, we saw a lone bull musk ox on a sandbar and observed him through binoculars before continuing.

At the end of the 11-hour float – on the last corner – we faced the monster of all headwinds and actually had to get out of the boat and “line” the raft downstream against the backward-flowing surface current. “Lining” is where one or two people walk in shallow water, pulling the boat by the bow line, while another person uses a paddle to keep the boat from beaching. The windstorm crescendo-ed as we broke camp in the meager protection of shrubs, and we experienced the strongest summer windstorm of my time in the Arctic (thankfully, from inside our sturdy tents).

Today was a successful science day, and we are all tired. I get the sense, for better or worse, that there will many long days of science, and many long days of boating.

The old photo is from 1949, and the new one is from 2001. Our second campsite is just off the left-hand side of the photo, and we spent several days traversing and studying the facing slope pictured.

We rarely know a ptarmigan is near, until a quick movement reveals its presence. While ptarmigan do fly, we most often see them walking on the tundra foraging on plants and berries.

To catch a glimpse of a ptarmigan, watch this video.

Often, soon after we dig a soil pit, it fills with water from the surrounding saturated tundra.

Watch this video, to see how we remedied the problem on a recent snowy and blustery day.

NOATAK VILLAGE, BROOKS RANGE, ALASKA– Our wildlife list so far includes moose, grizzly bear, musk oxen, dall sheep, rough-legged hawk, peregrine falcon, and a whole bunch of smaller birds and rodents. No caribou this time of year, and Mark pointed out that probably much of the game vacates the region during bug season. Ricky verified this, and explained that people and animals migrate to the coast during mid-summer, where the breeze is more reliable.

We ate breakfast with Ricky and he toured us through a small family picture album – a veritable history of the entire region that bridged seamlessly to the caches and other evidence of ancient habitation that we’d seen along the way. Ricky embodied at least a vestige of the old native way, and we all learned a lot from him during our short stay.

Two scorching days later, here we are camped at the end of the runway in the village of Noatak. I think it is day 12 since leaving Kotzebue, and also day 12 of the midnight sun. I think it rained for a total of 30 minutes during our entire time out here, but the huge break in weather was easily offset by the viscous mosquitoes. Along those lines, here is some wisdom to heed: Don’t come to the Arctic during the growing season if you’re looking for enjoyment.

Mosquitoes swarming at 1:00 AM.

On the other hand, if you’re searching for answers about changing climate and changing Arctic vegetation, our strategy of using repeat photography to guide the scientific sampling seems to be fruitful. Although the analysis still lies ahead of us, our impression is that we can identify areas that are changing, and areas that are not changing, based on a host of parameters that we sampled. Ultimately, we’d like to extrapolate what we’ve learned across large areas, in order to understand better the heterogeneity of vegetation change in the Arctic, and the consequences of that change on the global climate system. Thanks for following along, and check back shortly for reports from the upcoming Colville River trip.

The whole crew flying out of Noatak village. We really look disappointed to be out of the mosquitoes!

Watch this video to learn how these oxen’s ancestors immigrated through Ellis Island.