Iniakuk Lake Freezes Over!

This just in: Iniakuk Lake has frozen over for the winter. It takes a while because Iniakuk Lake is 5 miles long, 1 mile wide and 200 feet deep. For those of you quick with a calculator that's roughly 280 bazillion cubic feet of water. Of course the whole thing doesn't freeze solid, just the top 4 feet or so, still quite impressive. In past years we have flown in massive wheeled airplanes like DC-3's and C-46's to land on the ice and deliver supplies.
The picture posted is of the northern lights or aurora borealis over one of our cabins. The lights will be out most nights from now until the end of April with best viewing times during high pressure systems when the air is clear and the nights are cold.
In order to capture the northern lights on film you need a camera that can take long exposures of up to 30 seconds. But of course there's nothing like seeing them up close and personal. 

Paradise Found

There are no roads here which sounds terribly impractical at first, but as soon as you lift off in a single-engine float plane you will see it as the blessing that it really is. Bush pilots are a different kind of pilot, and with rare exception, they fly because it is what they love to do. There is no 401k, no union, and no fleet of attendants and Marriott Inns to look after them. They pack their lunches, look out the window for a weather report, and lift off into the air. There are no sanctioned runways either, it's all lakes, rivers and gravel bars up here, so good judgment and experience is the key to success. But don't just take my word for it, come up and experience it for yourself. You'll see that the smoothest landings are done on a pair of floats with no computers, control towers or landing lights.

Incoming

It's not exactly a noise, it's a vibration, a change in the way things feel because it is so quiet here. The DeHaviland Beaver on floats is about 5 minutes out with guests on board who have never been to Iniakuk Lodge. It's show time and we're ready; the lodge is spotless, food is prepared. As I run down the beach, the plane circles and lands into the wind, turns and taxies toward shore. This is so great! In these last moments, I imagine how our new guests must be feeling. They've come a long way, paid lots of money and now must be wondering what they got themselves into. It's our job to dispel those fears, make them feel at home and happy they chose Iniakuk Lake Wilderness Lodge.

Our guests are absolutely struck with the beauty of the southern Brooks Range and Iniakuk Lake. They invariably come from big cities, big jobs, incessant noise, hectic schedules and little time. Here, the schedule is built around our guests. Morning coffee is left quietly inside their cabin without disturbing. Breakfast is whenever they canoe over to the main lodge. An individually packed lunch consisting of freshly baked bread, a variety of sandwich fillings, and home baked cookies sees them through until dinnertime. Their naturalist-guide is available 24/7. This is a place where we eat and talk together, where we listen, where there is no noise, no set schedule and everything is customized to fit the needs and personality of our guests.

During meals they find out all the bread, cookies, desserts, dinner rolls and pastries are homemade daily. After awhile they stop asking me if I've made something because they know the answer and then it gets into a bit of teasing about whether or not I fired the plates and cups and have beehives out back producing honey.

It doesn't take long before we see a change take place. Our guests go from talking loudly to not talking much at all, from wanting to know what to do to being happy listening to the silence or just taking in the fresh air and water.

Zen Summer

After a long winter of waiting impatiently for the snow and ice to melt, just seeing the 4000' top of Mt. Hal Waugh as we circle over Iniakuk Lake makes me choke up. We've owned the lodge since 1974 and I always feel priviledged to be here another summer. The air is crispy fresh and the lake, which is 5 miles long and a mile wide, glistens in the midnight sun. There are shorebirds and waterfowl and songbirds and total daylight. There is so much to see and so much to listen. The wind blows in the trees and all the leaves are green. Green leaves may not seem like such a big deal, but after 8 months of cold and snow, believe me, it's a big deal. I search for familiar blueberry bushes, knowing that just the right combination of sun and rain will produce "Zen" blueberries the size of grapes. I know every inch of the shoreline and beyond because each summer I take my blueberry bucket and picker and crawl around on the lichen for hours. No amount of bugs or bears could keep me from getting out and picking berries.

Then there's just being. Right after I get here, a cup of freshly brewed very strong coffee accompanies me on a walk down to the beach to take it all in. Sure, there might be a mosquito or two, but if you were in Los Angeles, where there are no bugs in the morning, you wouldn't breathe fragrant, invigorating air and see water this clear. Here, the Tree Swallows are zipping around gathering bugs for their babies. Nearby I hear the Loons calling - the Arctic Loon sounds like a novice clarinet player while the Common Loon resembles Lily Pons warming up for the opera. In the distance I can faintly hear Old Sqaws. These ducks sound like the charge of the light brigade bobbing in the water talking nonstop to each other. The Old Sqaw is my absolute favorite duck because they can be heard right after the ice goes out, then they don't stay around for long, so they're special.