Home’s Where the Arctic Is

Living the high life in the mountains of Alaska is a challenge Kristine Tupper warmly welcomes. From her family’s cabin, Kristine watches northern lights and progress in her backyard garden.

America’s “last frontier” is first in my heart.

By Kristine Tupper
Central, Alaska

Directions to my family’s log cabin in Alaska are pretty straightforward. Just start at the Arctic Circle and drive 50 miles due south into the Crazy Mountains.

My husband, Gary, and I live on a remote homestead near the old gold rush town of Central. Gary built our two-story home on 28 acres we share with caribou, moose, lynx, bears, eagles and all kinds of birds. Our closest human neighbor is 9 miles away.

If you’ve ever lost electricity during a storm, you may have fantasized about life “off the grid.” For us, it’s a daily experience. Miles from the nearest power lines, we get our electricity the old-fashioned way…we make our own.

A diesel generator, battery system and solar panels power our lights and radiophone, and we have satellite dishes for our TV and computer. Heat comes from wood we split to fuel our stove. There’s no running water—we depend on rain in summer and melted snow come winter.

Since the closest supermarket is 140 miles away in Fairbanks, grocery-shopping trips are rare. Instead, we hunt and fish for meat and salmon and grow most of our produce.

Mother Nature helps me fill our pantry and medicine cabinet. A cornucopia of herbs and small fruit grows wild on our property. I pick raspberries, blueberries, cranberries and currants for jams and sauces. Yarrow plants ease our colds and upset stomachs, and we use the herb arnica to treat sore muscles and bruises.

Our food is made from scratch—bread, pie and noodles included. My Waterford Stanley wood cookstove is my prized possession. There’s no microwave in our kitchen.

Destined for Adventure

I came to Alaska by way of Germany, my homeland. As a child, I read an adventure book about Alaska and instantly felt destined to go there.

Beading jewelry provides a creative outlet and income.

When my husband died suddenly 13 years ago, I knew what I had to do. I packed up our young son and moved to “the last frontier.” A few years later, I had the good fortune to meet Gary. We married and moved to the homestead he’d acquired in a state free-land lottery.

We live simply on what Gary earns working at a regional airport. As a sideline, we have a mom-and-pop crafting business. He makes furniture and home accents from native woods, and I create beaded jewelry. Alaska’s wildlife—wolves to walruses—is featured in many of our patterns.

Twice in summer, we display and sell our work at Alaskan craft shows. We also market it on our Web site, shipping items as far away as Israel. Although we craft year-round, we really build up our inventory in winter. Cold and snow outside make Gary’s woodshop and my beading room feel so cozy.

Northern Hospitality

No electricity or plumbing means long wash days and thawing water.

Thanks to two tough trucks, snow machines and a highway 2 miles away, we get to town twice a week to collect our mail and catch up with the other 78 people who live around Central. Every Saturday in winter, I meet local women in town for a chat-and-craft session.

Women here are generous with their recipes, common sense and friendship. Several mentors have helped me adapt to this land. Frankly, it was a challenge leaving my dishwasher and other modern conveniences behind and suddenly “unplugging.”

It’s not as difficult in summer when the sun barely sets and the weather is gentler. But our winters aren’t for the faint of heart. We get only 2 to 3 hours of daylight in December, and the temperature can dip to -50°.

Both Gary and I have grown children who live in cities. While we enjoy visiting them, we’re soon itching to get home. No doubt, we miss Alaska’s “nightlife.” There’s nothing as thrilling as seeing the northern lights shimmering red, green and purple like a curtain across the pitch-black sky.

This summer, we’ll start building the first of two guest cabins we plan to rent out to tourists. That way, we can share this beautiful wilderness with others.

Subsistence living gives us a good workout. We go to bed tired every night without visiting a gym—plus, we make something with our own hands every day. Offer me a million bucks, and I wouldn’t trade this rich, peaceful life I have come to love.

Editor’s Note: To contact Kristine and Gary or find out about their craft business, Alaskakreations, go to their Web site through our links page.

 

 

Photos: Daniel Peterson