FA I R B A N K S | 9  p . m .

Anxious in Alaska
Helen Moffett

In Alaska, it’s illegal not to pick up hitchhikers.

Alaska has a higher percentage of Vietnam vets than any state in the
lower 48 (as the rest of the USA is known). This is because it’s a good
place to go if you want to live in a cabin in the woods with a loaded
shotgun under your pillow.
Fairbanks, the second-largest city in the state, has 30 000 residents.
Imagine Beaufort West plus a university.
Only 40 per cent of homes in Fairbanks have indoor plumbing.
There’s something disorientating about going to dinner in a handsome
wooden house (Bach percolating through speakers, basil pesto cheese-
cake and scallops served with fine wines), asking for the bathroom, and
being shown to either a porta-potty in the garage or an outhouse barely
visible through the falling snow.
It is strongly recommended that you keep a woodpile (at least three
days’ worth of fuel) on your porch, in case of power failures. Every
single dwelling has a fireplace.
An early autumn storm on my first visit bent the silver birches
into graceful hoops, the last yellow leaves at their crowns touching
the ground … and brought down all the power lines. Repair crews
assembled in concentric circles about twenty miles outside the city, and
worked their way in. For days, we had to shower at the university,
which cannily embeds its power and water sources in specially heated
tunnels underground. The heating prevents the permafrost from heaving

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