Less Than Zero: A wintry mixtape

By Dennis Hartley

(Originally posted on Digby’s Hullabaloo on January 24, 2026)

In my review of the documentary Antarctica: A Year on Ice, I wrote:

For decades now, my long-time Alaskan friends and I have speculated as to why no one has ever thought to produce a documentary about the unique, once-in-a-lifetime experience shared by the thousands of men and women who worked on the massive Trans-Alaska Pipeline construction project back in the 1970s. From 1975-1977, I worked as a laborer on the project (that’s right…Fairbanks Local #942, baby!), doing 6-to-10 week stints in far-flung locales with exotic handles like Coldfoot, Old Man, Happy Valley, and the ever-popular Pump Station #3 (now that was one cold motherfucker).

These remote work camps, frequently the only bastions of “civilization” for hundreds of square miles in all directions, developed their own unique culture…part moon base, part Dodge City. It’s a vibe that is tough to explain to anyone who wasn’t actually there. Traditionally, I usually cite the sci-fi “western” Outland as the closest approximation.

They don’t call Alaska “The Last Frontier” for nothing. Yippee ki-yay.

Yes, the subarctic can be harsh and otherworldly. Yet, there is also poetry there…as these verses from Robert Service’s “The Spell of the Yukon” attest:

I’ve stood in some mighty-mouthed hollow
That’s plumb-full of hush to the brim;
I’ve watched the big, husky sun wallow
In crimson and gold, and grow dim,
Till the moon set the pearly peaks gleaming,
And the stars tumbled out, neck and crop;
And I’ve thought that I surely was dreaming,
With the peace o’ the world piled on top.

The summer—no sweeter was ever;
The sunshiny woods all athrill;
The grayling aleap in the river,
The bighorn asleep on the hill.
The strong life that never knows harness;
The wilds where the caribou call;
The freshness, the freedom, the farness—
O God! how I’m stuck on it all.

The winter! the brightness that blinds you,
The white land locked tight as a drum,
The cold fear that follows and finds you,
The silence that bludgeons you dumb.
The snows that are older than history,
The woods where the weird shadows slant;
The stillness, the moonlight, the mystery,
I’ve bade ’em good-by—but I can’t

I second that emotion. From my review of the documentary Happy People: A Year in the Taiga:

As I was watching the film, a certain sense of familiarity began to gnaw at me. It was something about the stark wintry beauty of naturally flocked spruce forests, the crisp contrast of white birch against blue skies, and the odd moose galumphing into the frame. Or maybe it was the relentless vampirism of swarming mosquitos during the short but intense sub-arctic summer. Then it dawned on me. I had lived there! Was this a past life memory? Then I remembered that I don’t believe in that sort of thing…so I Googled a map of Siberia, which solved the mystery: the village of Bakhta lies roughly on the same longitude as Fairbanks, Alaska, where I lived for 23 years. I couldn’t see Russia from my house, but I now feel a spiritual kinship with these hardy Siberians. Okay, I’m not a survivalist (if I were to venture out on Gennady’s trap line; I’d end up like the protagonists in Kalatozov’s Letter Never Sent). But I think you catch my drift…

I suppose this is my (typically) long-winded way of assuring you that I’m not just blowing smoke when I say that I feel your pain if you are in the path of the massive winter storm dumping on the U.S. this weekend:

Winter Storm Fern could etch itself into weather history in four different ways across the South, Midwest and Northeast.Some winter storms affect only a relatively limited area. Not Winter Storm Fern.

Fern is expected to dump significant snow and/or ice over 34 states affecting over 220 million people in the U.S. That’s almost two out of every three Americans, according to population estimates.

Fern will also dump significant snow in parts of southeastern and Atlantic Canada.

This storm will lead to widespread dangerous travel for days, and “catastrophic” ice accumulations in the South could lead to widespread power outages and tree damage, according to NOAA’s Weather Prediction Center. […]

This could be the region’s most widespread, damaging ice storm in at least several years, with damage that could take days to recover from.

Weather forecasters are also warning about possible snow accumulations of 12 inches or more in some areas, as well as record cold temperatures.

I’ve bade ’em good-by—but I can’t.
I do not know how long in the snow I wrestled with grisly fear;
But the stars came out and they danced about ere again I ventured near;
I was sick with dread, but I bravely said: “I’ll just take a peep inside.
I guess he’s cooked, and it’s time I looked”; … then the door I opened wide.

And there sat Sam, looking cool and calm, in the heart of the furnace roar;
And he wore a smile you could see a mile, and he said: “Please close that door.
It’s fine in here, but I greatly fear you’ll let in the cold and storm—
Since I left Plumtree, down in Tennessee, it’s the first time I’ve been warm.”

–from “The Cremation of Sam McGee”, by Robert Service

Don’t try that at home, kids…but do what you can keep warm, and stay safe. In the meantime, grab yourself a cup of hot chocolate (those directly in path of the storm may want to add a splash of Kahlua), a good pair of noise-cancelling ‘phones, and curl up with my wintry mixtape. As usual, best enjoyed in the order presented:

“The Immigrant Song” – Led Zeppelin