Seward, Alaska: This is where I live

by Catherine Bodry on

There are many adjectives that I could use to describe Seward: mountainous, picturesque, cute, quiet, industrial, and in the summer, touristy. I could show you photos, and you’d probably exclaim “how beautiful!” And it is — but there are times during the winter when Seward is … a little bit difficult, particularly when the wind is blowing, it’s close to zero degrees, my lips are so chapped and cracked they’re bleeding, and my clothes are so full of static you can see sparks when I take off my parka ( I like to call my knee-length down jacket a parka, because it sounds so much more dramatic).

The following video isn’t super exciting; the first half is mostly shorebirds. But it does an excellent job of showing what winter in Seward is often like, much better than a photograph could. What I want you to notice is the greyness, and the incessant wind. Try opening your car door without it blowing off in that wind. Better yet, try closing it. Sure, there’s lovely snow, but the wind blows all the pretty powder off the trees so we’re left with dead bare branches hanging around without any pretty clothes on.

And don’t let the later shots of a serene, sunny boat harbor fool you. It’s no spring day. And the final shot is of the coffee shop I go to every day, and what you see there is the most crowded it will get all winter. But at least everybody knows my name.

Thanks to Russell Stigall (whom I saw with all his equipment in the coffee shop this morning when that clip was filmed) for the video from Seward City News.

Antarctic tourism booms: environment to suffer?

by Catherine Bodry on

Lonely Planet has been publishing guides to Antarctica for a while now. It’s now a regular stop on the cruise ship circuit. And it’s a popular destination (at least among my peers in Alaska) for seasonal work. As the icy continent becomes more popular, it is also becoming more accessible, and vice versa.

But the AP reports that a spike in tourism hasn’t come with a corresponding peak in regulation. Thus, some worry that catastrophic accidents could result in environmental damage, and fears are especially high after a passenger ship sank near the coast of the South Shetland islands this week.

Antarctica’s biggest problem is that no one is in charge. Seven countries have made claims on the continent, but no one recognizes or enforces them. Therefore, tourism is largely self-regulated, and we all know what can happen when corporations are left unchecked. I envision raw sewage released (Princess Tours received a large fine and a slap on the wrist for dumping raw sewage into Alaska’s Inside Passage), garbage dumped, and, well, general disregard for anything but profits.

Maybe I’m just a naysayer. But I don’t seem to be alone. What do you think?

Tigers in Africa

by Jerry Guo on

A friend of mine, Li Quan, has been raising tigers in Africa. The first thing you should know is that tigers are not found in Africa. The second thing you should know is that she gave up a cushy career in the fashion industry to become a cat conservationist. Both points seem strange. But what’s most bizarre is that her tigers are Chinese. In fact, they’re one of the rarest animals in the world. There’s only 67 South China tigers remaining.

Well, make that 68. Over the weekend, one of her four adult tigers gave birth to a 1.2 kilogram fuzzy ball of a cub. This cub will be sent, along with any others that are born soon, to China, where they will be released into nature reserves. These reserves will be the first of their kind for tiger conservation – and a model of sustainable eco-tourism. You would be able to check out the tigers in their natural habitat.

Of course, you could do that even now. Her tigers are being raised in South Africa’s Free State. They spend their days roaming the safari (kind of, there’s a big fence around them). They hunt antelopes when they’re hungry. And entertain guests who come to check out what is sure the weirdest animal to be found in Africa: a Chinese tiger.

Congrats Li Quan.

Mush a dog team to Chris McCandless’s bus on the Stampede Trail

by Catherine Bodry on

By now most of us are familiar with Chris McCandless and his Alaska tragedy, due to Jon Krakauer’s book “Into the Wild,” and Sean Penn’s screen adaptation of the text. It’s not that uncommon for folks to come to Alaska in search of something whether it be nature, an authentic experience, adventure,or some solitude. For folks seeking all four, McCandless has become somewhat of a role model. Martha already wrote about the the bus where McCandless died as a potentially popular destination, and the debate between locals about whether or not to remove it. It seems “wayward travelers” have been living out their Alaskan fantasies and using the bus as a sort of pilgrimage.

But now you can visit the bus by dog team in the middle of winter. What’s more, you can learn to mush your own team there. Can you think of anything more “authentically” Alaskan?

A Bittersweet Reminder of Global Warming

by Brett Atkinson on

Excuse my absence from Gadling for the last couple of months. but I’ve been discovering what’s new and different in the South Island of New Zealand for the next edition of Lonely Planet’s guide to my home country. Normally my LP ventures with laptop and notebook take me overseas, but it’s been kind of cool to poke around off the beaten track in my own backyard.

Between being surprised by the increasing number of great Kiwi microbrews and dangling off a hang glider above Queenstown, the most bittersweet memory is an excursion by inflatable boat onto the waters of Lake Tasman. The lake’s just three decades old, and its increasing size is being fuelled as global warming melts the Tasman Glacier, still New Zealand’s largest river of alpine ice, but 5 km shorter than it was 30 years ago.

The lake’s now a similar length and dotted with icebergs of all shapes and sizes that are continually rearranged by the mountain winds like giant floating chess pieces. The crystalline ice is up to 500 years old, and a lack of air bubbles trapped from earlier centuries produces an almost diamond hardness.

Out on the lake, a surprising late spring overnight snowfall had settled on the icy monoliths, and the gossamer sprinkling was enough to disturb the delicate balance of several icebergs that turned and rebalanced during the early morning.

Beautiful yes, but also a poignant and tangible reinforcement of the impact of climate change.