National Park Service - Alaskan style

Finally the day had arrived when I started work at the Alaska Region Office of the National Park Service (NPS). Of course there was administrivia that needed to be attended to first - a laminated identity card, a magnetic building key, and a log on for the computer system. To obtain those, I first needed to complete an online training course on my security responsibilities, and pass a test on the same with a score better than 80%. The course centred on protecting information and keeping a weather eye out for undesirables who would use social engineering to achieve their underhanded ends. Social engineering? – it was a new term for me although I suspect I’ve used it myself before. Currying favour? Eating humble pie? Buttering up? Oh no, that’s home engineering! I nervous as I took the test with so many acronyms to remember but was relieved to pass with an 87% test score.  

I began working with the very lovely Morgan, Alaska Region’s Fire Communication and Education Specialist and it’s busy. As you know it’s summer here and the tundra is on fire. Dry lightning is responsible for at least 90% of the 100’s of ignitions across the state. Smoke jumpers – firefighters that parachute onto the fire ground - abound. Morgan co-ordinates the information that keeps communities updated on the current fire situation as well as keeping the NPS and the other fire fighting authorities up to date with the suppression effort underway. One of my first jobs was to put together a female mannequin and dress her in the nomex firefighting uniform (sans knickers) to be included in the fire information display in the foyer of the NPS building. Victoria, as we dubbed her, is rather striking, with long eye lashes and a haughty expression that has attracted a lot of attention by staff.

I met Kevin, who works in the mailroom on the ground floor of the building on my first day. He is dry and laconic and his almost monotone delivery and his mustachioed visage put me in mind of Dustin Hoffman as Rainman. He had me laughing uproariously in the first few minutes with longwinded stories that twist and turn to demonstrate something he knows about Australia. On my second day he asked me with an absolutely deadpan expression if I had put a note in Victoria’s gloved hand asking him out for dinner. He told me that he was worried his girlfriend would find out he was being courted by an Australian firefighter. The entertainment has continued daily as every morning I check Victoria to make sure she hadn’t toppled over or met some misfortune overnight. It has been hilarious as someone (Kevin?) regularly changes her position or adjusts her pose or hand gestures.

As my first week progressed I learnt much about the differences between Australian firefighting and the American way: long tours of duty (14 days without a break – we do 3 on, 1 off, 3 on); the seasonally employed firefighters; smokejumpers; the use of scoopers – large planes that pick up water in a belly tank and heaps of other fascinating stuff.

At the end of the first week I realised that the 4^th of July - Independence Day celebrations – meant a long weekend.  So I decided to head to Fairbanks on a 3 day mission. I checked out the train fare and found it was double that of the airfare as well as being a 12 hour journey versus a short 50 minute hop in the Air Alaska 737. The construction of Alaska’s railway began in 1914 and was such a tough task in unforgiving conditions I think maybe they are still trying to pay for it? The short 467 mile (751 km) line was completed in 1923.  Apparently women were used on the rail gangs as men became a scarce commodity during the First World War. Skeptics among the work supervisors were concerned that the heavy work and the merciless environment would be too difficult for women, but they were soon silenced as the girls quickly earned a reputation as neat and fast workers – rarely missing as they heaved weighty hammers to drive the steel spikes that held the tracks in place.

I sat in a window seat hoping to catch a glimpse of the elusive 20,320 feet (6,194 m) high Denali (aka Mt McKinley) as I flew northward, but high white rolling clouds as far as the eye could see, even the tallest of mountains in north America was obscured…