Toolik

For two years I worked for the maintenance department at my alma matter, the University of Sioux Falls. The job was boring, but I liked the smell of the garage, and I like the kind of people who work for grounds and maintenance. Not much is required of you, beyond scrubbing toilets and taking out trash. Of course, there are lots of other things that need to get done to keep facilities clean, organized, and running, but nothing terribly challanging beyond willingness to use muscles and maybe get a little dirty. (So far nothing I've done for a university is near as dirty as pounding rocks for trails, or scooping pig pens for heritage hogs.)

I have stepped back into the University summer maintenance job world, except in a very different place from Sioux Falls. I'm at a compound of trailers, metal buildings, and sturdy tents perched on the slope above Toolik Lake, which is still covered in ice. It is "remote," a 9 hour drive north of Fairbanks, AK, much of it along gravel road. To the South are beautiful peaks of the Brookes range, which are only 6,000 above sea level (slightly higher than my hometown in WY). There is not a tree in sight . . . I am on the arctic tundra, which is currently brown, patched with snow and a few clumps of bright yellow flowers. Birds are arriving, and the ever present ground squirrel is often seen scampering about, tail spinning. It is a stark place. The sun does not set this time of year, but I hear that I will begin witnessing the Aurora Borealis in August when we start to experience night again.

We are a usual facilities cleaning crew: we spend alot of time talking about what we will do, taking breaks, and leaning on our brooms laughing and joking about. After work was a time for some gin and tonic, in celebration of the local EMT's birthday. We like to drive our ancient GMC crew-cab pick-up (Blue Dog, complete with fangs on the front grill), and the sputtering Kawasaki Mule. We burn trash in an incinerator, and polish up mirrors, sinks, and showers with Windex and brown paper towels. We drive packages to various labs, for various scientists and their research projects. We also fuel camp and visitor vehicles, and keep track of all the data on a clip board with our initials. I will not be pushed to great vocational heights, but I will carry a radio on my belt so my crew can call me to help lift a wardrobe that UA residence life replaced with something equaly unnattractive in their dormitory 400 miles south of us.

Right by the lake is the sauna. (The third, actually: the sauna has burned twice.) There are men's hours, women's hours, and mixed hours, because it is assumed you will not wear anything. The opportunity for comfort and understanding has to be made available. It is a shack with two rooms, one with benches and wood stove, the other with wood and pegs for towels. We keep a good supply of split wood available and the ax, wedge, and maul hidden from the guests, because generally they, while highly educated and intelligent in many ways, haven't any skill in splitting wood safely, particularly when they are naked. I will also be enjoying the sauna this summer. And believe me, I will jump in Toolik Lake, possibly naked.