I love Winter. I love snow. Mountains are in my blood. Moving to Alaska was a no brainer. Making the move in the middle of winter was a bit of a challenge but not for the reasons you might think. Big snow, no bother, frigid cold, no sweat, or so I thought. There are many compelling reasons to be savvy and prepared in Alaska, and I was on the fast track to get acquainted with them all.
Knowing I needed a good vehicle for the Alaskan winter, I smartly purchased a used Subaru. The AWD and handling in the snow was fantastic. I drove everywhere in any weather that Mother Nature threw down. But then again, if you can drive in the poorly plowed hills of New Jersey, dodging multitudes of parked cars with every ice patch, you can basically drive anywhere.
My Subbie came with an installed block heater. I wasn’t sure what that was at first. At least not until the thermometer took a dive and my new vehicle sounded sick after sitting all night in the frigid cold. There were several nervous mornings where it barely turned over. Then I remembered that thing with the plug coming out of the grille area. Hey, maybe that would help. Bingo, plug the car in overnight and in the morning it doesn’t sound like a kid with croup. For those of you unfamiliar with this nifty accessory, a block heater connects an electric heating element to the cylinder block. It increase the chances the engine will start, and I am all for my engine starting in the cold, dark hours of the morning. Sounds great, right? Until you realize that the odds of driving away with your car plugged in are also great. I was told to put the cord over my side mirrors which would help me remember to unplug, which did work for a while. Then the snow came, covered the cord and I didn’t quite see it. Out of sight, out of mind. You see where this went. The horror of realizing you just backed out of your parking spot with your car plugged in is probably a right of driver’s passage for teens here in AK. For me, I was just the new kid around the block heater. Off to the mechanic to get it reattached!
No worries, I am back on track and still in love with my new life. The early morning is dark and deep with stars, endless and crisp, the milky way is more visible than it has ever been and the green aurora whispers on the horizon just above the Chugach foothills. Its minus ten and I am headed to work. I get in the car and put the key in the ignition. A horrible sounding click-click, and I realize I am not going anywhere fast. Ok, rolling with the minor morning glitch, I go to pop the hood anticipating that I can get a jump start from one of the neighbors. I keep anticipating the hood opening with each failed attempt, but I soon resign to the fact that the latch is frozen shut. Wonderful! I stumble into the garage for some spray de-icer while keeping a vigil out for a friendly neighborhood assist. One eventually comes along and after few frigid minutes of bare hands fiddling with bare metal, the hood is opened, battery jumped and I am on the road with a seasoned warning. “Leave your car running as long as possible, get a better or newer battery.” Being a used car, I had no clue on its age. Advice noted, but workdays end at five as do most mechanics. Also at five o’clock, the temp is negative eleven, and the battery is once again not happy. A co-worker comes to my aide. Yes, leave the car running, got it. I have errands to run and along with many seasoned Alaskans, I leave the car idling while I am shopping. I heard that for those living in Fairbanks, leaving the car running while at work all day is a normal occurrence, and shopping with the car running is a no brainer when the usual winter temps are minus twenty to minus 40. Alright, out of necessity I am on board, but not happy at this contribution to the environment or the possibility of car theft. Easy target here. I’m going to walk into that building over there for a half an hour. Oh, by the way, car is already warmed up, here you go. No takers? Ok, its still there, toasty warm and I jump in to head home. But all the idling has sucked down more gas than usual and I am on alert that I just might make it home but not down the mountain again. So off I go to the gas station. Nope, I am not shutting the car off to pump, despite the warning sign. Not happening! The other thing that is not happening is gas filling up my tank. The lid cover was not opening no matter how many times I tried to pop it. A scavenged screw driver from under my seat would not jimmy it open either. Another piece of my vehicle is frozen shut. I panic a bit, but realize if I make it home, I should have some gas in a spare can to get back down the mountain tomorrow. I decide to hit the road sans fuel. I arrive home and get to work in the frigid dark to get the lid off. My brilliant, desperate and usually unadvisable idea of using a turkey baster to inject hot water around the cover and hinges worked like a charm.
The next day is again in the arctic digits, with a slight aurora dancing, and the man in the moon winking a knowing warning. My neighbor is on call for the jump I am certain will be necessary, and I attempt to enter my car. Nope. Not today. Battery and fuel issues are nothing when you cant GET IN! De-icer is IN the car. Fantastic! I contemplate calling in to work “Cheechako”! (Alaskan Greenhorn), because the compilation of winter car issues does not seem to happen to my coworkers. Just me. The new kid on the block.
The list of trial and errors in Alaskan driving piled up like the snow. One weekend I went on my normal ritual of driving to my favorite coffee hut before starting errands. By the way, if you don’t live here, these are huts of fresh ground coffee intervention for your morning commute or weekend pleasure, conveniently placed on every corner, sometimes four to five of them within visual range just in case you missed the first three. I placed my debit card in the baristas hand as usual and in exchange received my morning fix. Off I went across town. Arriving at my destination, I park and attempt to shut off the car. It is not sub-zero, it warmed to a balmy ten degrees and I have a brand new battery, I am fine. No, no I am NOT! Where are the KEYS? The car is running with nothing in the ignition. Total panic, palpitations, I down the coffee. THE COFFEE! This happened in the world before Smartphones to map and call the unnamed hut, so all I could do was drive back across town to the only place I had stopped and hope I did not stall. Stall!? The thought of it made me panic worse. I have driven vehicles with a clutch since I was 17, why would I stall? The 20 minute drive felt like an hour of impending doom thinking that I would dump the clutch for no good reason. Then I would loose a digit or two to frostbite waiting for help because, after all that frigid weather, ten degrees felt downright Floridian, why bother to bring a hat, gloves or any kind of substantial winter coat? I did make it there without event. Sure enough, they had my keys and were totally confused and amused, at me driving away. So, three things I realized. One, I could slip my keys out of the ignition while running, (which I obviously did unconsciously) two, the new mini-version of my debit card that attached to my key ring was NOT a good idea at all, and three, its Alaska. It is freezing almost eight months out of the year. Get it together girl, and keep emergency supplies and warm clothes in the vehicle at all times. Three more lessons learned without major trauma.
The scenario of the ghost key plays out to this day. You would think Siri would be able to remedy the situation and locate my keys. Most of the time they are in my pocket. Aside from that glitch, my winter driving issues have dwindled. I have survived five winters, no longer a Cheechako. Yay me! The usual is to leave the car running when restarting in sub-zero temps might be a concern. Such as driving to Palmer in minus 18 degree weather and joining an entire parking lot of idling cars, their occupants merrily feeding reindeer and having photo shoots with Santa in his sleigh. This is my new norm. I now have a heated garage, a full stock of emergency supplies in my Thule cargo box, along with several shovels, jumper cables, an extra set of rims with studded tires on hand and of course, a functioning block heater. I am comfortable driving onto frozen lakes to fish. I have survived travel in blizzards, ice storms, and 100 MPH winds. I am ready for my beloved Alaskan winter weather, which ironically this year, has moved East to New Jersey.