Jill
Fredston, author of the Book
Sense 76 Pick Rowing
to Latitude: Journeys Along the Arctic's Edge, and her husband Doug
Fesler are avalanche experts and codirectors of the Alaska Mountain Safety Center.
Almost 20 years ago they published Snow
Sense: A Guide to Evaluating Snow Avalanche Hazard, which is required
reading for the National Ski Patrol -- and anyone who lives in snowy regions.
For the past 15 years or so, Fredston and Fesler have spent every summer --
rain, wind, or shine -- on the water. They have rowed around Norway, down the
west coast of Greenland, around Spitsbergen, and more: in all logging more than
20,000 miles. When they aren't rowing, they live in the mountains above Anchorage.
Jill grew up quite near BookSense.com's home base in Tarrytown, NY -- she was
raised in Larchmont, NY, a village on the Long Island Sound. I flew
up to Alaska to have lunch and a chat at a fishing village near...wait a minute!
We don't do that sort of thing around here! (Yet?!) So, we talked by phone.
BookSense.com: I love the way you've gone out and done your own thing (rowing
for three months at a time), and you don't feel as if you had to defend it in
any way.
Jill
Fredston: I think there's a freedom that comes as you come west -- and certainly
in Alaska. I notice it more when I go to the east coast. People will talk about
our expeditions, or ask how we get so much time off. There are more questions
about where you went to school, what kind of stuff you're doing for a career.
That kind of stuff falls off as you go west. I have never really been asked
to justify it.
In the U.K. and Europe jobs come with a lot more than the two weeks vacation
that U.S. companies give. To me the ratio of work to time off is wrong.
I agree. I've been thinking about this a lot lately. There was a helicopter
pilot who always picked us up at the top of our driveway to go to avalanche
rescues -- he was the best pilot I've ever flown with, and I've flown in a lot
of bad situations -- he just died in a helicopter crash. If he can die in a
helicopter crash, then I can die in an avalanche accident tomorrow. You wouldn't
have expected it. Some of it is just the law of probability catching up with
you. Recently I received an amazing letter from a woman who had read Rowing
to Latitude. I'd met her once about 12 years ago, she was a friend of a
friend of a friend. She must be in her eighties now, and she wrote to say she
had these two wood blocks from Greenland. Her husband had died six years and
her house was getting a bit too much too handle. She was trying to place her
art where it would be appreciated, and wanted to know if she could send me the
woodblocks. It was amazing. It's such a reminder that we spend our life getting
stuff, and then we just die.
Sometimes, when you write a book and send it out there, it finds good people.
Sometimes you hear from them, sometimes you don't.
It has been interesting to watch. I've been hearing from people I haven't heard
from in 25 years. I thought it would appeal to people that liked the outdoors,
or people that were paddlers, or from Alaska; but I really wanted it to appeal
to people who liked sports, and language, and maybe a good love story. That
seems to be happening. When I was on tour, people were coming up and saying,
"It's been very nice, in all the trauma of the last few months, to have a good
place to put my head for a few hours."
You didn't set out to write a book when you were on your expeditions. There's
a point in it where you were unimpressed with people going by with notebook
and camera in hand.
I'm skeptical of seeing everything through a viewfinder. I'm a little bit turned
off by my own genre. I don't do these trips to see if I can make it, or how
strong we are. A lot of times I have a hard time with books written that way.
Although lately I've had a hard time being critical of any book because they
take so much damn work!
You travel great distances, you do immense amounts of work, you're doing
all these things that are associated with the disaster-travel-book genre --
but yours -- refreshingly! -- is not a disaster book. It's a love story!
We've had our share of disasters, but we've always been on our own. If we work
our way into a problem, then we need to figure out a way to work our way out
of it.
Are you going out this summer?
Probably. We're thinking of going to the mouth of the Mackenzie River and then
turning across the top of Canada to see if we can work our way through the Northwest
Passage. We're having a bit of a struggle: It's a place we've always wanted
to go, and we'd like to do that trip, but we'd love to go back to some of the
places we really love.
You've been west of there, but not east?
Right. One of the problems with long trips where you have a weather hammer
over you, or a limited window in terms of storms or ice, is that you have just
got to keep moving. Sometimes it's really tempting to slow down at the good
spots and wiggle along the shoreline rather than cutting straight across bays.
Part of us really wants to really see the Northwest Passage and part wants to
slow down, do less miles, and spend more time.
At this time of year are you working on your consulting job?
Yes. I do a combination of teaching people how to evaluate avalanche hazards
and a lot of avalanche hazard consulting, which includes figuring out the extent
of hazard that a village is exposed to, then figuring out a way to defend it.
We do a lot of operational forecasting, and also helicopter bombing to bring
down avalanches.
So you do a controlled avalanche rather than just letting it happen.
Let's say a power line is wiped out: we'll go in and assess the hazard. If
there's no hazard, we'll bring the avalanche down, and take responsibility for
the crews coming out. Unfortunately a lot of the work is body-recovery work.
Is there an avalanche season?
In Alaska, any month that you have snow cover, you can potentially have avalanches.
Our prime time is October to May. Avalanches affect our roads, railroads, power
lines, backcountry travelers, and recreation.
Are there other natural disasters in your area?
There was a 9.2 earthquake in 1954 -- we're very close to the Pacific Plate.
There are also floods. We live pretty high in the mountains, and last weekend
it blew 117 miles per hour. It blew our neighbors' roof off. It's kind of funny:
at 60 mph we have little whitecaps in the toilets; at 100mph there's no water
in the toilets because it all gets sucked out.
It just sounds so tempting!
I know! [Laughs] Doesn't it make you want to pack your bags and move
on up? I don't think our wind has dropped below 25 mph for about three weeks.
Here in New York it has to be 40-45 degrees. This is the warmest weather
for years -- but so was last year! Do you feel that the weather in Alaska has
changed over the 20 years you've lived there?
Our
ambient temperatures are definitely warmer than they used to be. The flipside
of that it that I used to work on the Greenland ice sheets looking at these
cores that go back -- if you can believe the dating -- about 120,000 years.
They predate the last ice age. You see these climatic fluctuations in the cores.
I'm careful about drawing conclusions because I think we as people have really
short memories. I deal with this all the time. There'll be a house in an avalanche
path and the owner will say, "Well, you know, I've lived here 15 years and I've
never seen anything happen." Fifteen years in our life is a pretty significant
chunk of time. Fifteen years in the life of an avalanche path is not much. It's
kind of good to keep that other perspective in mind.
The book has lovely photographs. When you go rowing, it must be hard to
balance just enjoying it rather than thinking all the time, "Oh! That would
make a good photo!"
Most of our photos are taken on the blue-sky days when we're taking it slow.
I don't have a lot of storm or wave pictures, we're busy! I don't know how everyone
else gets these whale shots! We've had whales come up underneath our boats,
but we weren't in the right spot for pictures. FSG said they could only do eight
pages, so it was a good exercise -- it seemed impossible at that time to get
the photographs down to eight pages. I gave them a couple of sheets of slides
that I thought were good and said, "Here, you guys pick." It was just enough
to convey what it feels like out there.
After reading about how much you can carry with you, I looked back at the
pictures and realized that a 15-foot-long rowing shell is just tiny!
That really hit home when we circumnavigated Spitsbergen. That included an extraordinary
day where we found the whale hanging on the side of the mountain. That's really
fun on the book tour! I lead up to it and talk a little about what it's like
to see this thing over your shoulder and not really know what you're looking
at. But I never give them any answers -- I tell them to read the book!
At the end of that trip, we didn't know how to get our boats home. They wouldn't
fit on the plane and eventually we just sawed them in half. That was
incredibly humbling. When I'm in my boat I feel pretty good in terms of handling
ice and so on. But the hull is only an 1/8th of an inch of ragged Kevlar --
there isn't much there.
There is a tremendous focus that comes from not having many choices. We have
so many choices in the normal course of a day -- it's a little bit overwhelming.
That's one of the things that's so freeing about these trips. Each day is just
about seeing what you can see, trying to get along, and trying to stay alive.
You mentioned that when you go on a trip, you know what you're going to
eat every day for the next three months.
It's great. I don't go to a store between May and September, unless we're in
a village buying ice cream or something.
And you don't miss shopping?
No. I'm the kind of person that whatever I have is what I have. Certainly when
we get back there are some things we are really ready for, like vegetables and
fruit.
What's your first meal when you get back?
Usually our favorite Thai restaurant. It's always big salads and lots of fruit
and pretty light on the pasta -- we eat a lot beans and pasta on the trips.
What books have you taken with you?
I
probably take 25 books on a trip. Reading in the summer is wonderful. When
we were stuck in Greenland on the same point for two weeks and I ran out of
books -- which is something Doug totally dreads because I become difficult to
live with -- I started rereading books. Some of them I read two or three times
and I was amazed at how much I missed the first time. It was at the time I was
writing, so it was really instructional to go back and look at how the books
were put together.
[At this point she wanders around her office looking to see what books are
on the shelves.]
Let's see, in the summer I've read Diane Ackerman, Rarest
of the Rare, a lot of Wallace Stegner and Terry Tempest Williams. We
try to read about the places we're going, so we've read most of the polar books.
I really do hold by what I've said, that sometimes if you've been dealing with
a cranky grizzly bear, or with big waves, the last thing you want to do is lie
back in the tent and read a fishing story where they're dealing with really
big waves. I read mostly nonfiction, although lately I've been delving into
fiction.
Do you and your husband read the same books?
We only have the one book bag, so there'll be a few novels in there, but for
the most past it will be history and nonfiction. We keep a list through the
year so that we're not faced with trying to find 25 books at once. I try to
pick books that both of us will like.
Where do you shop for books in Alaska?
There's the Cook
Inlet Bookshop -- they have been terrific; they have the best Alaska section
there is. We also have a really good used bookstore here. Anchorage is a funny
place. Technically it's Alaska's biggest native village because a lot of the
native populations have come in, but it's light years away from what it feels
like in the villages. All the chain stores are here: when you're in Anchorage
you could be anywhere. The flip side of that is that you step out of the store
and look up and you're looking at the mountains to the east and the ocean to
the west.
I'm looking at the handy endpaper maps that show where you've rowed. Apart
from the Yukon River, it has been mostly around coasts. Could you row down the
other Alaskan rivers?
Yes. I'm interested in a lot of Alaska. I'm out all summer, I'm in helicopters
quite a bit in winter traveling around the mountainous parts. Then you look
at a map and you realize all the places you haven't been. If you put Alaska
on the lower 48 states, it would stretch from California to Florida. If I went
down with a lot of rapids and rocks, I'd have a hard time. It's not a white-water
boat. These rivers have currents. If you have to do a lot of maneuvering you
want to be in a riverboat, facing forward.
How has it been for your husband since the book was published?
It's been funny for him. Some people treat him differently: people who don't
know him talk to him as if they do. I think he's probably glad that it's finished.
I was working several jobs while I was writing it. I'd wake at three in the
morning, and write till eight or nine. I think he's proud of me.
Are you working on another book?
I've written some articles and I have another idea floating around. It's
a little bit daunting to think about writing another book that's so personal.