Writers Workshop

Cabin Fever

By Richard Nault

In the silent movie, The Gold Rush, Charlie Chaplin stumbles into the cabin of a prospector which has been taken over by a wanted criminal. The prospector returns and the three begin fighting until they reach an uneasy truce when they become isolated by a blizzard that cuts them off from the rest of the world. Desperate for food they agree that the criminal will go off to find something to eat.

Charlie Chaplin and the prospector are left in the cabin. Hunger and boredom lead to turning on each other until a bear enters the cabin to liven things up and save them from starvation. 

My understanding of cabin fever is based upon scenes from this movie. Spending too much time together crammed in a small space with little to do results in folks turning on each other. The cure for cabin fever is to introduce a bit of excitement into life, which the angry bear entering the cabin did for Chaplin and the prospector.

We moved from Clearfield, Pennsylvania to Kenai, Alaska in March of 1981. Upon arriving, we experienced the tail end of winter and the season of the year known as break up. From April to about mid-June in South Central Alaska daily cycles of melting snow and ice during the day and freezing nights results in long slow, slushy muddy season that eventually explodes into a burst of greenery. Really, the transformation from snow, ice, slush and mud to abundant plant life happens with dizzying speed. 

During our early years in Alaska the environment was the bear in the cabin that made life exciting. In the dead of winter sunrise was around 10:15 AM and sunset was just a little before 4:00 PM, resulting in 5 hours and 40 minutes of daylight. But, that daylight was amazing. A bright sun in clear blue skies reflected off the beautiful white snow in a dazzling landscape of mountains more than made up for the lack of daylight. 

I loved the lazy man’s sunrises, conveniently occurring at 10:15 and the yellow and pink winter sky at sunset. Weekdays, I worked as a psychotherapist and performed psychological evaluations. As a new graduate I loved my work which I found exciting. During this time, we met people who would become lifelong friends – interesting characters – every single one of them.

On weekends we would go off on adventures. When my youngest son was a toddler I would cross country ski with him in backpack. Playing in the snow in minus 20 degree weather with small kids was our bear in the cabin during those times.

In 1990, we moved to Juneau for better job opportunities. During the dead of winter, sunrise was at 8:45 AM,…. sort of, and sunset was at 3:08 PM…… sort of, resulting in 6 hours and 22 minutes of daylight…sort of. 

Juneau is surrounded by mountains so the sun would go behind a mountain around 2:00, cutting off sunlight on rare sunny days. Temperatures skirted freezing and in the lower elevations where the city of Juneau is located, rain, or very wet snow was common for most of the winter. 

I quickly learned that 38 degrees and raining is much, much colder than -30 degrees with clear skies. While frostbite is a danger when the thermometer hits negative numbers, most cases of hypothermia occur between 35 and 40 degrees in wet conditions. The damp cold of Southeast Alaska penetrated clothing and went right to your bones. Along with the rain came, of course, dark gray skies. Hypothermia and seasonal affective disorder infected Southeast Alaska. 

We found that the strategies to get through winters in South Central Alaska did not work in Juneau. Low areas were too wet for cross country skiing and hiking trails at higher elevations were too steep to ski.

One winter after a year or so in Juneau, I decided to just go with it. Why not try hibernating? I slept long hours, spent too much time watching TV and went to the movies weekly. Eventually, I realized that I was watching the same movie over and over only with different people wearing different costumes. 

Also,, I felt like the people I lived with did the same aggravating things over and over. I needed a bear in my life and I realized that one existed just right outside my window, both literally (bears often raided trash in Juneau and they had somehow acquired the trash pick-up schedule) and metaphorically. Learning to not only live with, but to love the rain would be the new challenge.

So, of course I spent money. First I invested in full spectrum lighting. Humans are not meant to hibernate, but to stay active. Next I invested in very good rain gear and waterproof hiking boots. Gortex, Gortex, Gortex...

Also. it was time to take a page from the Scots, who also live in cold wet weather. While polypropylene was ‘ok’ in wet weather, I found that there’s nothing like wool to keep you warm in in wet climates. Woolen jackets, sweaters and shirts went under the Gortex layer. 

My wife was also suffering from cabin fever, so both of us got decked out in foul weather gear and vowed to go hiking every Saturday — no matter the weather. This worked wonders — we learned to play with the rain.

One Saturday, hike on March stands out. It was pouring. We were hiking a trail that we were familiar with, but with the excessive rain, streams that were normally a quarter inch deep were over a foot high. In crossing them water went over our boots. Nonetheless we sloshed along. When it came time for lunch we pulled sandwiches out of plastic bags. The bread quickly disintegrated in the rain, leaving us with only meat and lettuce between our fingers. We looked at each other and laughed manically. “You gotta be nuts to live here”, we said… and indeed we were….delightfully so.

Later, I discovered that if it was 36 degrees and raining in town, it would be snowing at the ski slope located at higher elevation. I learned to telemark and downhill ski and came to mourn the passing of winter. But skiing is a source of stories for another time.

Just one more thing….. We discovered that the bear in the cabin during inland Northwest winters is ice. Traction devices on hiking boots have allowed us to stay active during this area’s winter freeze / thaw cycles.