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An Alaska marine scientist and her all-woman team spent 38 days rowing across the Atlantic

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An Alaska marine scientist and her all-woman team spent 38 days rowing across the Atlantic


The first days were the hardest days, Noelle Helder said.

Imagine being as seasick as you will ever be while surfing waves that look like mountains. You can’t sleep during nights that make you wonder when your boat will crumple like an aluminum can. The nearest help is on a continent you can’t see, and beneath your running shoes are 3 miles of deep blue sea.

Helder, a marine scientist currently working on several projects at the University of Alaska Fairbanks, recently was one-fourth of an all-woman team they named Salty Science that won the women’s division of World’s Toughest Row, from the Canary Islands offshore of northwest Africa to Antigua, just north of South America.

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With each woman clipped into the open boat with a tether they had worn for more than a month, team members rowed into Antigua on Jan. 20.

That’s more than 3,000 miles of ocean crossed in 38 days by four women from the far corners of North America.

Helder lives in Fairbanks, where she squeezed a borrowed rowing machine into her cabin and pulled many strokes to the bewilderment of her dog. Her partners in the event were Chantale Bégin from Tampa, Florida, and Isabelle Côté and Lauren Shea from British Columbia. All four are marine biologists who had worked on projects together.

“We had a funky academic thing going on,” Helder said during a recent presentation about her trip at the University of Alaska Fairbanks. She is currently working with scientists at UAF’s Institute of Northern Engineering on a coast of Alaska mapping project.

None of the four members of the Salty Science team had any rowing experience, Helder said. But they had enthusiasm.

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Helder, who just turned 29, said “yes” immediately when Shea, in Antigua for field work a few years ago, texted her about attempting the World’s Toughest Row. Shea had just watched the race finish in person.

Accepting the challenge was one thing. Making it happen was something that took up the last three years of Helder’s life. This included her relocating to Florida for the summer of 2023 to learn how to row in the open ocean with her teammates.

There, they became acquainted with Emma, a 28-foot rowing craft shaped like a beer can. Emma featured an open deck with three sliding seats and sets of oars, two tiny cabins where one person could sleep amid their electronics, a machine that could make salt water drinkable, a touchy mechanical rudder that steered them and a bucket they used as a toilet.

Before the trip, the women employed a rowing coach as well as a psychological one. The latter suggested their mantra: “Feel the fear, and do it anyway.”

They each learned how to fix the electronics on board and how to dive beneath the boat while on a line to chip barnacles off Emma’s hull with a paint scraper. They packaged up two months’ worth of dehydrated food and learned how to wedge it into every precious inch of space.

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They departed the bay in La Gomera, Canary Islands (a territory of Spain), on Dec. 14, 2023. Sand from a Sahara dust storm fuzzed up the green horizon as they pulled away.

It was their last sight of land for more than a month. They didn’t see another oceangoing boat for more than a week. But they were too sick to care.

“There were 4- to 5-foot swells right away,” Helder said. “We would throw the oars, puke and keep (rowing).”

The women knew this rude introduction to ocean rowing was coming. Things got worse before they got better.

“We were shocking our systems,” Helder said. “We knew — hoped — it would end. I don’t think I ever need to be in a 28-foot boat in 30-foot seas again.”

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In addition to the seasickness, there was the damage the ocean was inflicting upon their boat. One series of waves bent an oarlock plate made of quarter-inch steel, rendering one of their rowing stations useless.

“Days felt fine, but the anxiety level went up in the middle of the night,” Helder said of the first few days. “Once or twice a night we had to wake everyone up to help row or stabilize a chaotic situation after a big hit, or because water would pour into the cabin from a big wave that washed over the deck through the vents — which is not a fun way to be woken up.”

But Emma’s fiberglass body absorbed the punishment, and all four women recovered from seasickness.

After four days, they all got into a working rhythm during which they alternated rowing partners. Each had a shift of two hours of rowing followed by two hours of rest alone in the tiny cabin. After the sun set, they pulled for three hours and rested for three.

“Sleeping three hours was a game-changer,” said Helder, who was amazed at how their bodies and brains were able to adapt to nonstop motion, and to almost never standing up straight during 38 days of routine tasks.

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“There was never a moment it was dull,” she said. “We’d see a bird and talk about it for a day.”

A flying fish that bounced off Helder’s head while she was rowing also broke up the monotony, as did groups of sleek tuna that followed Emma. A shark also butted its head repeatedly against the rudder (without damaging it).

During the journey, the four women celebrated Christmas, New Year’s Eve and Shea’s birthday (presenting her with a cheesecake). Sunrise coffees were a favorite part of each day, as well as were listening to audiobooks and music and preparing meals with a JetBoil stove. Each woman ate about 4,200 calories each day.

Despite being rowing novices at the start of the trip, when they were more than halfway across the Atlantic they learned via their satellite texters that they were ahead of every other women’s team. They maintained their lead by analyzing weather reports and anticipating wind patterns. This allowed them to chart the best path to Antigua in the final days.

“We won because we made smart navigational decisions,” Helder said.

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Arriving at the port of Nelson’s Dockyard, Antigua, in the darkness of Jan. 20, 2024, the women squinted at spotlights pointed at them by race officials and struggled to stand up on deck and hold torches handed to them for celebratory photos.

The four then stepped off Emma and onto dry land for the first time in 2024. There, they hugged friends and family.

Not only did the women win the forever right to say they rowed the fastest across the Atlantic Ocean, they raised more than $260,000 for three ocean-conservation organizations.

“I’m very happy I did it,” Helder said in Fairbanks. “And I’m so proud of our team.”

Helder said the next time she crosses an ocean, she will employ a sail rather than oars. She also said she hopes her experience of riding the waves sticks with her.

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“It made me feel an incredible sense of connection with the natural world that I hope to continue to hold on to in my everyday life,” she said. “Seeing nothing but ocean for 38 days … reminds me how small we are in the grand scheme of things. It only furthered my excitement for spending time in, on and around the ocean whenever I get the chance, and to continue to work to understand this incredible ecosystem.”





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Andrew Kurka is eyeing Paralympic gold. After, his Alaska bed and breakfast awaits

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Andrew Kurka is eyeing Paralympic gold. After, his Alaska bed and breakfast awaits


CORTINA D’AMPEZZO, Italy — Andrew Kurka spent his childhood roaming the outdoors of rural Alaska at his family’s homestead near Nikolaevsk, with 600 acres at his fingertips, sleeping inside only because he had to. But it was always fishing that was the lure.

Even as a 5-year-old, the now 34-year-old para Alpine gold medalist was resolute.

In those early years, his mom, Amy Bleakney, joined Kurka on the edge of a river for hours and hours as he searched for that one fish he was trying to catch. While temperatures might have dipped and time dragged on, there was no stopping Kurka and his child-sized fishing pole.

“‘We can come back,’” Bleakney would try to tell her son. “‘The fish is still going to be here tomorrow.’ He’s like, ‘No, I got to get it.’”

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Bleakney would sit in the truck and watch her son.

“We didn’t leave until he caught his fish,” Bleakney said.

Thirty years later, Kurka still feels the pull of the water and Alaska. It’s been his home and the place that holds the next chapter of his life as he plans to step back from ski racing following the 2026 Milan Cortina Winter Paralympics. Shaped by the nature around him, he’ll be looking to help others find that sense of purpose with his next steps.

Just as he found his.

When Kurka was 13, he severely damaged three vertebrae in the middle of his spinal cord in an ATV accident. About three months after his accident, a family friend got him back in a boat and out on the water to go fishing. Kurka was in a back brace and still in excruciating pain, so the pair didn’t spend much time out. But that hour or so in the middle of nowhere was all Kurka needed.

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“It was something that I wanted and something that I needed in my life, and he was able to help me get that, and then the moment that happens, he helped me set a new goal for myself: to be able to pursue being better,” Kurka said. “‘Hey, I want to do that, but on my own.’ You know?”

Two years later, he tried a different elevation of the outdoors — down the slopes on a mono-ski for the first time through a program called Challenge Alaska, thanks to the encouragement of his physical therapist. Kurka crashed at the bottom, going straight down.

Those who helped Kurka suggested he try turning on his next go-around. Instead, Kurka again went straight down.

“The moment that I slid down that mountain, the moment I felt that speed, I felt so alive,” Kurka said. “I remembered, ‘Hey, I can live. This is life. I can do things.’”

On a chairlift ride back up, his instructor predicted his future, telling him, “You’d be a pretty good racer. You don’t seem to be afraid.” Kurka learned about the Paralympics. For a lifelong athlete who wanted to go to the Olympics as a wrestler, the conversation renewed Kurka’s desire for “being the best.”

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Kurka first qualified for the U.S. Paralympic team in 2014. But he didn’t compete after crashing in training. He made his Team USA debut in 2018, winning two medals (a gold in downhill and silver in super-G). He became the first-ever Alaskan Paralympic medalist. He is scheduled to compete this week in the super-G (Monday), combined (Tuesday) and giant slalom (Thursday).

Andrew Kurka celebrates with his silver medal from the super-G at the 2018 Paralympics. He also won gold in the downhill that year. (Lintao Zhang / Getty Images)

But with Kurka, there’s always something else brewing. And he knew his athletic career could set up his future. Not long after Kurka won his gold medal, Kurka started chatting to his now wife, Verónica, after the two met online. Kurka couldn’t stop talking about the property he had just found, telling her it was perfect.

“I was like, ‘OK, what’s your favorite color or something?’” Verónica Kurka says now with a laugh. “But he really, really wanted to talk about this project.”

Always a dream of his, he used his earnings to buy property and build cabins, looking to set up a retirement plan for himself. By the time Verónica visited Alaska some time later, Kurka was already living in one of the cabins. But in the process, after the 2018 Games, he realized he wanted it to be something more than just a build-and-sell investment.

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Soon after, some of his friends came up to visit. So did someone whom Kurka barely knew, but he invited him up to Alaska on a challenge anyway.

When Derek Demun posted a photo of a personal-best-sized halibut he caught in his home area of Southern California, Kurka saw it on a mutually followed Instagram account connecting impaired outdoorsmen in the United States. Not long after, Demun received a direct message from Kurka that read along the lines of, “Oh, that’s your personal best. Why don’t you come up to Alaska and beat it?”

Kurka told him about his wheelchair-accessible bed and breakfast, the Golden Standard, and his backstory as a para athlete. The two chatted on the phone, and Demun checked him out to make sure he was a real person. A week later, Demun had tickets to Alaska for a trip that summer of 2020 with his dad and friend. Kurka picked them up in Anchorage, and the adventure was on as they drove to the property near Palmer, about 45 miles from Anchorage.

They spent the days exploring the scenery and taking in the moose that would frequently appear as roadblocks. Evenings were spent around a firepit. And there were two fishing excursions on Kurka’s boat, when they headed out to open water, a nearly 2 1/2-hour trek.

“I have no idea where we’re at,” Demun said. “It’s raining, it’s cloudy. We’re rocking with the waves. I’m like, ‘Dude, we’re in Alaska. I’m fishing for halibut. I’m going to die out here. No one is going to know. I feel like I’m on a TV show.’

“But he held by his word. I was able to go and catch the biggest halibut I’ve ever caught in my life.”

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Since that trip, Demun has gone back to Alaska nearly every summer. The adventures have continued with airplane tours — Kurka has a sport pilot license and a plane is next on his to-do list — Jet Ski rides up to glaciers and plenty more fishing.

“When people think of Alaska, they think of igloos and polar bears and lots and lots of snow and just unaccessible terrain,” Demun said. “And me and Andrew, we have a little saying, like, complacency kills and comfort kills.”

Derek Demun

Derek Demun (pictured) took Andrew Kurka up on his offer to visit Alaska. “He held by his word,” Demun said. “I was able to go and catch the biggest halibut I’ve ever caught in my life.” (Courtesy of Derek Demun)

As the years have passed between visits, the number of cabins on the property has grown, and Kurka has found his purpose.

“There was that sense of peace, that sense of freedom and that sense of fun that they got on the ocean has stayed with them forever,” Kurka said. “Nature was what helped me to recover from my injury. You know that peacefulness that helped me to recover from my injury, and I want other people to experience that also to help them recover from their injury. And it’s really easy for me to provide that.”

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It’s the time with family and building out his next plans for the Golden Standard that has Kurka looking forward to stepping back from ski racing. But Kurka won’t be slowing down. He’ll just be spending more time in Alaska compared with the extensive travel that comes with being on the circuit. There’s a bike-trail trip in Japan with Verónica in the works, and he wants to spend time forging knives. He’s working with a nonprofit mentoring young athletes. For the Golden Standard, he plans on getting his commercial pilot license to become a flight instructor for others with impairments, along with providing fly-in fishing and hunting trips.

But beyond the occasional trips out, he doesn’t want to turn fishing into an extended job, as the water remains a sacred place for him.

“From my childhood, there’s been that outdoor sense of nature that has grabbed ahold of me,” Kurka said. “For me, nature and adventure is true freedom, because you stop worrying about everything else in life that doesn’t really matter. And that’s the piece of me that finds peace, and that’s what I search for. And I find bits and pieces of that inner peace while I’m competing. Because when I’m on the course and when I’m pushing out of the start gate, nothing else matters but that next one minute and 30 seconds worth of life-changing moments and dangerous speeds.

“But nothing about it compares to when I’m on the ocean in Alaska. … That’s the piece of me that I love and the piece of me that will always be in Alaska.”





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Elim resident dies, child injured in snowmachine collision

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Elim resident dies, child injured in snowmachine collision


A 55-year-old Elim resident died in a snowmachine collision Friday night, Alaska State Troopers said.

The accident, which occurred in the Norton Sound village of fewer than 400 residents, was reported to the agency just before 11 p.m. Friday, troopers said in an online statement. The report indicated that Anna Aukon “was riding in a sled down a road when she was struck by a snowmachine also traveling on the road,” troopers said. Life-saving measures were administered but were unsuccessful, according to troopers.

A young child also sustained injuries in the collision and was medevaced from Elim, troopers said.

Aukon’s next of kin was at the scene, according to troopers, and her body was being taken to the State Medical Examiner Office.

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Nome troopers responded to Elim on Saturday to investigate the collision, the agency said.





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Opinion: Alaska must speak with one voice about the future of a natural gas pipeline

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Opinion: Alaska must speak with one voice about the future of a natural gas pipeline


The setting sun casts a warm glow on the Chugach Mountains beyond the Anchorage skyline and Cook Inlet. (Bill Roth / ADN)

“North to the Future” wasn’t just a motto in my family. It was a lived experience.

My grandfather came to Alaska in 1948 as a Local 302 heavy equipment operator. He helped build roads and airports across this state and ultimately worked on the trans-Alaska pipeline. He came north because Alaska was rising.

Back then, the spirit of this state was dynamic and confident. When opportunity appeared, we seized it. We were growing. Our infrastructure expanded and our young people stayed. Alaska believed in its future.

Today, Washington, D.C., and Wall Street are watching us again. They’re not just studying engineering plans for the Alaska LNG project. They’re listening for something deeper: Does Alaska still believe in itself? Does Alaska truly want this project?

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If our message is confused, if we hedge, undercut or politicize this moment, the answer they will hear is “no.” And once that perception hardens, capital and federal focus will move elsewhere.

Energy security is not optional. Southcentral utilities have made it clear that we lack sufficient long-term, firm gas commitments beyond the near horizon. Without a durable solution, Alaska, sitting atop one of the largest untapped gas resources in North America, could soon be importing natural gas to heat homes and power businesses.

Importing energy in a resource-rich state is not resilience. It is vulnerability. Renewables absolutely have a role in Alaska’s future. So does hydro. So does coal. Alaska should be all-in on energy. We are one of the most resource-endowed places on Earth. There is no reason to think small.

Exporting North Slope gas does not displace our need to develop in-state hydro, responsible coal, wind, solar and emerging technologies. It complements them.

Let’s export the gas the world needs and reserve the gas Alaskans require for reliability.

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And let’s continue diversifying our in-state portfolio to power industry and strengthen resilience. Energy abundance is not a contradiction. It is a strategy.

AKLNG is not simply an export project. It is an energy security project for Alaska and a strategic energy project for America. The economic upside is significant. The Alaska Gasline Development Corp. projects that AKLNG could generate roughly $600 million per year in total state revenues once operational — royalties, production taxes and related activity. That is a baseline estimate. If Alaska participates as a co-investor, long-term revenue potential increases substantially.

Talk about a revenue generator. At a time when policymakers debate new taxes on industry and even on individual Alaskans just to balance the books, we are staring at a project capable of producing hundreds of millions annually while strengthening energy security. That should be a no-brainer.

Meanwhile, our oil and gas industry is doing extraordinary work revitalizing North Slope production. Projects like Willow and Pikka are restoring throughput and revenue. The private sector is demonstrating confidence in Alaska’s future. The question is whether we will match that confidence.

For too long, we have allowed doubt and policy paralysis to define the conversation. We debate. We delay. We send mixed signals. Investors can model engineering risk and regulatory timelines. What they cannot model is political incoherence.

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From the perspective of Washington and Wall Street, confusing or contradictory signals from Alaska’s elected leadership are more destabilizing than permitting hurdles. No financier commits billions into a jurisdiction that sounds ambivalent. No federal partner prioritizes a state that publicly undercuts itself.

We built the trans-Alaska pipeline because we believed in Alaska’s future more than we feared obstacles. That generation understood something simple: When opportunity arrives, you seize it. AKLNG is such a moment. The gas is here. The markets are real. Federal alignment is strong. Our broader energy portfolio is vast. Our workforce is capable.

Alaska has always been a powerhouse of people and resources. If we want energy security, we must say so clearly. If we want diversified energy, we must pursue it boldly. If we want growth, we must demonstrate confidence. Washington is listening. Wall Street is listening. The next generation is listening.

Let’s show them that Alaska still knows how to seize the moment — and rise.

Rep. Chuck Kopp currently serves as the Majority Leader in the Alaska House of Representatives and represents District 10.

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