Winter Snow Challenges at a Remote Home

We had to dig out the hives so the bees
wouldn't suffocate

Many people who do not live in Alaska are leery of our long, cold, dark winters.  Others flock up here for winter sports, such as races for dog mushers, snowmachines, hikers, cross country skiiers, and even fat tired bicycles (!).

We tend to say that “There is no such thing as bad weather, just poor clothing.”  I respectfully disagree.  To “There is no such thing as bad weather” I would add that there is also poor construction, poor judgment,  and inadequate (or inaccessible) tools.




This Thanksgiving week, for example, Old Man Winter was very blustery.
On Thursday, Thanksgiving day, we had a record dump of snow: 46 inches in 36 hours.  Friday and Saturday brought drizzle (38 F) with heavy rain Friday night that saturated the top two feet of snow.  A few more inches of snow on Sunday swirled throughout the property in high winds on Monday. Later this week, temperatures are predicted to drop to negative numbers. 

What are the impacts of this sort of winter weather on our homestead?

Snow is a welcome insulator of our plants, and the bases of buildings for humans and animals, keeping frigid winter winds from creeping through cracks and cracking exposed pipes. 

Walking through several feet of snow, whether powdery or thick and saturated is exhausting.  (I think of this whenever I see movies set in fake winter weather.)  Wearing snowshoes, we pat down paths among our buildings that we will use for the rest of the winter.  The exercise is akin to bike riding with toe straps:  exerting pressure as each snowshod foot lifts up with a load of snow and then pushing it down again, to consolidate and lower the soft, white molecules into a firmer surface.  In deep powder, we cannot even move straight forward.  We sort of shimmy and shake in place to loosen the snow so it packs down around us and then lift and walk another step.  Rain saturated snow is heavy and dense.  It forms an ice pad under each boot which makes walking awkward, and the snow is “sticky” and hard to shed from boots and shovels.  However, the effort is worthwhile, since, in freezing temperatures, the paths form firm bases for much easier walking, especially after we widen them with our snowmachines and smooth them out with a groomer.

If I step off those paths without snowshoes, I “post hole” in deep softness.   After the four foot snow dump, I sank up to my groin when shoveling off the roof of the rabbit hutches.  I had to crawl out.  The snowmachine  was totally buried and invisible.  We not only had to shovel it clear but also create an angled path for it to climb from ground level up to the new surface height as soon as the snow hardens up. 

Of greater concern than any inconvenience in walking, is the structural integrity of our roofs under an assault of snow or, worse, rain that turns the snow into a load of heavy ice.  A cubic foot of snow weighs about 20 lbs - more if it holds water and freezes.  In our climate, the flat roofs of commercial buildings in Anchorage and Wasilla seem “penny wise and pound foolish” both for snow weight and rain leakage.  The buildings on our property have either 45 degree or 33 degree roofs.  The former are virtually no maintenance this time of year as they shed snow easily.  Sitting in bed (upstairs), I hear and feel the the shudder and “whoosh” as about 450 square feet of snow slough off the roof, over and over throughout the winter.  The high berm it forms beneath the roof line is always among the last remnants of snow in May.  I recommend steep roofs for any structures built up here.

The shallower roofs are more problematic, both because the angle does not shed the snow as easily and because many of them are smaller structures built with flimsier supports. To remove snow, we use an extendable “snow rake” which looks like a very wide, shallow shovel.  The short chicken coop is easy to clear, but we cannot reach the apex of the taller structures.  My husband gets an upper body work out peeling off the snow from the lower edges of the shower house and food shed.  Sun hitting the south and west facing roofs will often melt and dislodge the bulk of snow, but other patches remain,  looking like jaunty white top hats.  

This endeavors may seem like a lot of work and worry. The good news is that, living as remotely as we do,  we do not need to drive anywhere through white outs and on icy roads!   Instead, we maintain a meticulous inventory of food and medical supplies so, short of an emergency, we can stay put.  The snow related tasks yield plenty of cardiovascular and weight bearing exercise, followed by a welcome soak in the wood fired hot tub, looking at a pristine white winter wonderland.