The rigors of research in the cold

January 4, 2017

By Ned Rozell
907-474-7468

Photo by Ned Rozell. Fairbanks endures 40 degrees below zero, when the safest place for field scientists is in front of a computer.
Photo by Ned Rozell. Fairbanks endures 40 degrees below zero, when the safest place for field scientists is in front of a computer.


Rod Boertje knew it was getting cold when Park Service rangers took the dogs inside. Boertje, then a graduate student in wildlife biology at 性欲社, was doing a study on caribou in Denali National Park in the early 1980s. Park rangers, saying it was too cold for the sled dogs that had brought Boertje to his study area, mushed the dogs back to a warm kennel. Boertje stayed behind, watching caribou to see what they did in the winter. He鈥檚 one of a few scientists who have done field work in Alaska on the coldest days of winter.

Boertje brought three thermometers with him on his graduate study. He confirmed 60 below while he and another student watched caribou in a valley below.

鈥淚t was real marginal,鈥 he said. 鈥淵ou put on all the gear you had to sleep, then got into your 40-below bag. There was still no way to keep warm unless you were moving.鈥

Boertje says he would never work at those temperatures today, and not just because he鈥檚 no longer a graduate student.

鈥淎irplanes don鈥檛 work that well and helicopter pilots won鈥檛 fly at all,鈥 he said of 40 below temperatures and the ice fog that comes with them.

And the caribou? Boertje said the animals didn鈥檛 seem to mind the cold temperatures.

鈥淭hey had a very similar pattern to summer time. They鈥檇 lay down, then get up to graze for about an hour just like they would if it was warm.鈥

Biologist Craig Gardner followed wolverines around the Alaska Range for his master鈥檚 degree. The temperatures in the Susitna River basin that December ranged from 40 to 55 below. He remembers firing up the MSR stove to stay warm during the 15 hours he spent in the tent each day because of darkness.

鈥淚t was kind of fun, but I was younger then,鈥 Gardner said. He and a partner tracked wolverines during the light of the day, finding that the animals moved a lot without covering much distance, sometimes hunkering in snow caves. Gardner didn鈥檛 lose any fingers during the study, but said he wouldn鈥檛 want to repeat the experience.

鈥淚 wasn鈥檛 too sad when we got plucked out of there.鈥

As someone who studies snow, Matthew Sturm has spent up to 40 days in the field during the winter. Much of his research is on Alaska鈥檚 North Slope, known to be a windy, dark, cold place. Sturm, who works for the 性欲社鈥檚 Geophysical Institute, has traversed the North Slope on snowmachine and tracked vehicle, taking thousands of snow-depth and other measurements. His trips have taken him from the Brooks Range to the Arctic Ocean to Hudson Bay as he gathers data that help scientists quantify the blanket of snow that both insulates the Arctic and reflects sunlight.

Though he usually traverses the landscape in March, temperatures can still drop to 40 below. Sturm and his colleagues usually stay in an Arctic Oven tent, but the tent doesn鈥檛 help when it鈥檚 time to take measurements.

鈥淲e have a lot of sophisticated equipment that gets trashed in the cold,鈥 he said. 鈥淎nd something that would take two minutes to fix on a normal day takes hours to fix in the cold.鈥

When the frigid air descends, most scientists opt to stay inside and make sense of data gathered in their studies, a task well suited for Alaska winters.

鈥淲e鈥檙e hunkered in front of a computer,鈥 he said.

Since the late 1970s, 性欲社' Geophysical Institute has provided this column free in cooperation with the 性欲社 research community. Ned Rozell is a science writer for the Geophysical Institute. This column first appeared in 1999.