The Daylight Comes At Last

Our first trip to Alaska was in June. We had been living in Germany and arrived without children on our “house-hunting” trip authorized by the military. Because we had come half-a-world away in only a day, we had not acclimated to the time change. Our sponsor had kindly invited us to stay in his home and our bedroom was in the darker basement, but when we went outside and began actually house-hunting the daylight hours seemed to never end.

                With our jet-lagged days being upside down, we were moving around zombie-like, with burning eyes and vitality drained away. The helpful realtor showed us a number of homes and we immediately determined that Eagle River was vastly preferable to Anchorage. On the second or third day, we found a house we thought we could live in there, and after doing all the official things one does in buying a home, we were left to our own devices for a few days.

                We had never experienced a 24-hour long day before, and in our time-zone compromised state didn’t fully appreciate it. Leaving Anchorage for Phoenix, our bodies and our brains were normalizing and we reunited with the kids, buying a used GMC Suburban, and outfitting ourselves for the long drive north.

                Summertime daylight hours in Phoenix are much warmer and shorter than they are in Anchorage. The jackets we had put in our suitcases for Alaska were packed away in Arizona in favor of shorts and t-shirts. By the time we took a little vacation, tuned up the Suburban for the trip, and headed north, it was July. Soon we were in the pine forests of Colorado, cooler and calmer than Arizona had been. We caravanned along with my parents who towed their 5^th wheel trailer and made our way to Bellingham, Washington where we boarded a ferry and cruised North to Alaska.

                The day lengths began to stretch out again, and we were glad for the coats in our suitcases. We camped out on the deck of the ferry and spent 3 nights onboard our way to Haines, Alaska where we drove off the ferry and began our 800-mile drive across Canada to reach Anchorage.

                By the mid-August, our days were noticeably shorter, and by the middle of September they were normal, Germany-Arizona wise. And no wonder; on September 22^nd, the days are the same length the world over. After that, the days begin to shorten, and the further north you are, the shorter they become.

                Trick-or-treating in Phoenix required shorts under a costume. In Germany, a jacket was advisable. In Eagle River, a snow-suit was a better choice. The days were getting noticeably shorter and there was snow!

                Thanksgiving time was real winter, and by the time Christmas arrived, days were about 5½ hours long. The shortened daylight hours lead to depression for many people, and there is a general gloominess to the world, but on December 21^st, the days start getting a few seconds longer. By mid February, we are gaining over 5 minutes per day. That is over a half-hour per week, and assuming the weather is letting the sun in (not necessarily a good assumption), circadian rhythms get bounced and moods improve while the whole world looks more cheery.

                On March 21^st, the length of days is again the same the world over, and after that, Alaskan days are longer than everywhere to the south. March, and occasionally April, dump pretty good snows on the Anchorage area as winter fades in rage, and late April and May are often sunny with ever-lengthening days.

                All of the things people have been preparing for all winter suddenly present themselves at once in June, and the grass begins to grow, the gardens have to be planted, the fish have to be caught, the mountains have to be climbed, the house has to be maintained, and visitors have to be entertained. It’s just lucky there’s 24 hours a day to do it in.

                By July, the days are again getting shorter, but are still long enough for everyone to be burned out all the time. And in August, where the days are noticeably shorter, the cycle begins again.