Before I write any of my historical novels, I research. Often the research can get boring, especially if I’m reading a very thick, dull research book and am short on sleep. But often the research can be exciting and can lead to some unexpected benefits!

For my book VOYAGE OF ICE, it was necessary to travel to Alaska to further understand the Arctic whaling industry and to experience the wild and woolly north for myself. (You can only learn so much from a book.) In Anchorage I toured a whaling museum and went running by the river and saw moose roam through town. But visiting the big city wasn’t enough. Since I planned for my characters to be shipwrecked way up north, I had to travel to Barrow, Alaska, the northernmost point in the United States.

I had a great time conducting research in Barrow. I dipped my hands in the Chukchi Sea. Brrr! I saw polar bears rummage among whale remains, and Arctic foxes dart into their snowy burrows. I witnessed the people of the Inupiat village harvest a 50-ton bowhead whale which they’d hauled up onto the beach after hours of trying to figure out how they were going to do it. I went for a ride on a dog sled and was assured that the dogs could outrun polar bears, but was given a .45 just in case. Yikes! (Even though I was buried up to my neck under furs, I remember that my teeth actually froze in my head and ached all the way up to the top of my skull. That last tidbit certainly ended up in my book.)

Despite the chill, all of this research was great fun (especially since I didn’t get eaten by a bear, nor did I have to shoot one). I now felt I had a good feel for telling my tale of the North. It was time to go home.

But the research trip wasn’t finished with its surprises. Five months prior, some friends of mine in Anchorage had been “adopted” by a stray cat that frequented their back porch. This courageous little calico had braved the Alaskan wilds and desperately needed a home. Except my friends couldn’t keep her. Would I take her? After some deliberation, I told them that I would. But there was a problem . . . I had only one hour between flights in the Anchorage airport, so we’d have to make it fast.

SHEBA

Once I landed in Anchorage I hurried off my flight and out of security. I met up with my friends, took the cat (who’d meanwhile had shots and sported a spiffy health certificate and assorted travel documents), and then raced back through security. (I felt kind of like the spy who’s made the transfer of the top secret briefcase stuffed with the Top-Secret-Take-Over-the-World-Stuff.) The cat and I boarded the plane just in time and off we flew. . . .

That was seven years ago.

It’s appropriate that my first blog for my young readers is about my cat, because she’s sat on my lap, filled my office with purrs, snorts, yawns, and snores, and given me kisses throughout the writing of many a book. In fact, she’s on my lap now, purring away. My little Alaskan kitty. A fine end to my tale, I think.