Chatter Marks

EP 112 Frozen Frontlines: Alaska’s Cold War Legacy

In this episode, we explore the lingering impact of the Cold War on Alaska, a state that stood on the frontlines of a global standoff. Through perspectives rooted in art, journalism, history, and geopolitics, we trace how Cold War-era decisions reshaped Alaska’s communities, economy, environment and sense of identity. And how it continues to influence Alaska’s security policies and relationship with the rest of the world.

EP 111 Rockets, clean energy and the future of Alaska with Ben Kellie

Ben Kellie is an entrepreneur, a writer and someone who’s spent a lot of time thinking about how to build things that matter. He grew up in Alaska, learning to fly planes with his dad. It was a hands-on education in problem-solving, resilience and staying calm under pressure. That mindset carried him through early work on rocket launches and landings at SpaceX, and later, into founding The Launch Company, a startup that developed modular, scalable launch systems for rockets. He sold it in 2021. These days, he’s working on a new venture called Applied Atomics, building compact nuclear power systems that are designed to provide energy-intensive industries with clean, reliable power. More than anything, though, he’s interested in where Alaska fits into the global future: how we move beyond boom-and-bust cycles, invest in our own talent and create businesses that are both rooted here and relevant everywhere.
Ben says that the investment he’d like to be known for hasn’t happened yet, but his goal is to demonstrate what’s possible in Alaska. That includes moving beyond our dependence on oil, and considering where Alaska’s people and economy might be in 50, 100, or even 1,000 years from now. While the specifics of future technology are hard to predict, some needs remain constant: food, clean air, clean water and reliable energy. These are the issues he focuses on when he thinks about the problem he would like to be known for solving. They’re ones that meet basic human needs. And writing helps him work through these ideas. He says it’s a tool for making sense of complex decisions, checking assumptions and mapping the long view. It’s also how he slows down, reflects and emotionally processes what he’s building. Because, for him, it all comes back to family and community.

EP 110 From professional baseball player to mentor with Jamar Hill

Jamar Hill is a coach now, but before that, he was a pro baseball player in the Mets organization. He grew up in Anchorage, where playing baseball wasn’t always easy: limited facilities, long winters and not much opportunity to play year-round. He says that in Alaska, you get about a quarter of the playing time compared to other places. But in a way, that made him love the game even more. As a kid, he followed the Alaska Baseball League, one of the best summer leagues in the country. It brought in top talent every year — future first-round draft picks — and watching those games gave him an early sense of how the baseball world worked. By the time he was 16, most of the teams he played on included at least one future Major League player. And by the end of high school, he was drafted by the Mets. He became one of their top power prospects — a lefty bat who hit right-handed pitching especially well. He went on to hit over 100 professional home runs. But beyond the stats, it was his early exposure to high-level talent, and his ability to adapt, that shaped his perspective. That perspective is still with him today — as a coach, a mentor and someone who’s all about creating opportunities for the next generation.
Today, Jamar is focused on giving back to the community that raised him. As a youth coach and founder of RBI Alaska, he’s spent the last 10 years helping young athletes grow — as players and as people. He’s currently leading the development of the Mountain View Field House, a year-round indoor training facility that will give local kids access to the kind of resources he didn’t have growing up. For him, coaching isn’t just about skill development, it’s about building character, creating opportunity and showing kids that their environment doesn’t have to limit their ambition. He mentors with intention, using his own experiences in professional baseball to help young players navigate the mental, emotional and physical sides of the game. Through that work, he’s helping shape confident, resilient athletes who are prepared for whatever comes next, on the field or off.

EP 109 Photographing exploration and innovation in Alaska with Roman Dial

Roman Dial is a scientist, educator and pioneering adventurer. For more than four decades, he’s charted paths through Alaska’s most remote and unforgiving landscapes — sometimes alone, sometimes with students, friends or family. He came to Fairbanks in the 1970s, a place he says was a hotbed of outdoor innovation — a kind of ground zero for reimagining what adventure could look like in Alaska. In the ‘70s, backcountry travel still looked a lot like it had for decades — heavy leather boots, wool layers, metal-frame backpacks and cumbersome skis. And then, in the 1980s, things started to look different thanks to a small community of skiers, cyclists, runners and packrafters who began to experiment with lighter gear, faster travel and more self-reliant approaches to the backcountry. They weren’t following guidebooks, they were writing the playbook as they went. Influenced by competition, camaraderie and a love for the land. And through it all, Roman was taking photos — capturing the people, places and moments that would come to define a generation of exploration.
This May, the Anchorage Museum will be exhibiting a selection of Roman’s photographs from his early days exploring Alaska. These photos, many of them taken during the 1970s, 80s and 90s, document more than just rugged landscapes and remote journeys, they capture the spirit of youthful exploration, innovation, backcountry friendships and the raw beauty of Alaska before GPS, satellite phones and other digital safety nets. When Roman looked back at these photos, he didn’t just see the wild places he traveled through, he saw his wife, his kids and the partners who shaped his journey. It was a reminder of how those relationships influenced not only the paths he took but the person he became. These weren’t just snapshots of adventure, they were glimpses into a life built on trust, shared risk and curiosity. His adventures took him across tundra and glaciers, into rainforests and river valleys, and his perspective speaks not only to the power of wild places but to the relationships that shape our journeys through them.
Photo by Taylor Roades

EP 108 Monitoring Alaska’s volcanoes with Dr. Matt Haney

Dr. Matt Haney is the Scientist-in-Charge at the Alaska Volcano Observatory, where he leads the charge to monitor and communicate the activity of Alaska’s volcanoes — some of the most closely watched in the world. He explains that there are several ways to count Alaska’s volcanoes, but one of the most striking is this: 54 of them have erupted in the last 300 years. That’s more than any other U.S. state. Most of these volcanoes are found along the Aleutian Arc, a seismically active chain that stretches from Mount Spurr — just 80 miles west of Anchorage — through Cook Inlet and out across the Alaska Peninsula and Aleutian Islands. A few outliers, like Mount Edgecumbe in Southeast and Mount Wrangell near Glennallen, add even more complexity to tracking volcanic activity across Alaska.
As a volcanologist, Matt is part of a network that assesses volcanic risk using the National Volcano Early Warning System, which ranks volcanoes by threat level. In Alaska, five volcanoes are classified as “Very High Threat” — including Mount Spurr, Mount Redoubt and Mount Augustine — not just because they’re active, but because they’re near population centers and critical infrastructure. Mount Spurr is currently under close observation due to signs of volcanic unrest, making it one of the most closely watched in the state. When Spurr last erupted in 1992, it launched ash clouds up to 60,000 feet into the sky and shut down Anchorage’s airport for nearly a full day. Ash fall can disrupt air travel, damage engines and electronics, clog air filters, and cause respiratory problems. Today, with Anchorage serving as the second busiest cargo hub in the U.S. — and the fourth busiest in the world — the stakes of an eruption are even higher.

EP 107 History, power and the Bering Strait with Bathsheba Demuth

Bathsheba Demuth is an author and historian. She grew up in Iowa, a place she describes as having an extremely cultivated landscape — shaped and managed by people at nearly every turn. Her first exposure to the North came through the writings of Jack London, books her parents read to her aloud. As a kid, London’s tales of adventure resonated with her, but as she got older she began thinking about his reflections on how economic and political systems can crush people. At 18, she made the decision to head to the Arctic. There she spent time mushing dogs in the Yukon. She says that experience was utterly transformative. It shifted her idea of what it means to be a human being — not as a lone agent of individual destiny, but as a life that is part of a broader ecology.
In her book “Floating Coast: An Environmental History of the Bering Strait,” she compares how Soviet Russia and the United States approached the Arctic, specifically around the Bering Strait. What she discovered was that despite their ideological differences, both nations treated animals and sealife in similar ways — primarily as resources to be managed or harvested. For those living outside the Arctic, the region has undergone a series of shifting narratives, it’s gone from a place of extraction, to a geopolitical flashpoint during the Cold War, and now, to the forefront of global climate change. Both of those perspectives stand in stark contrast to how many Indigenous Arctic communities have historically related to the sea and the land, their focus being on reciprocity rather than domination.

EP 106 Finding truth in fiction with Éowyn Ivey

Pulitzer Prize finalist Éowyn Ivey is the author of "The Snow Child." The book captivated readers with its blend of folklore and the Alaska wilderness. Raised in Alaska, Éowyn’s connection to the land is woven into her storytelling, creating atmospheric and emotionally resonant narratives. Before becoming a novelist, though, she worked as a journalist and then as a bookseller. Both shaped her approach to research and storytelling. As a journalist, she says she often felt constrained by the need to report just the facts, realizing that the full story often involved emotions, complexities and more nuanced truths that couldn’t always be captured in a news story. This naturally led her to fiction, where she could immerse readers in themes like isolation, survival and the mystical interplay between humans and nature. Her latest novel, "Black Woods, Blue Sky," continues her exploration of myth, survival and the untamed beauty of Alaska.
She says that there’s a power in fiction, an empathy that forms between the book, the reader and the author. As a storyteller, she strives to create feelings and experiences that resonate — moments where a reader might think, “That’s exactly what I felt, but I’ve never been able to put it into words,” or, “I’ve never felt so seen.” This is true for situations she’s personally experienced and ones she hasn’t — that’s where her research comes into play. For Éowyn, writing is about more than just crafting a narrative, it’s about discovering the metaphors and the poetry within the concepts she explores. When she set out to be a novelist, she never imagined it would go beyond the Pacific Northwest. But it has. Her writing is known by people all over the world. But at heart, she still writes for her fellow Alaskans.

EP 105 Dogsledding, The Iditarod and making history with Libby Riddles

Libby Riddles was the first woman to win the Iditarod. Back in 1985, she made the decision to push through a storm — a choice that would cement her place in history. While others hunkered down, she bet on her team’s strength and her own resilience, forging ahead into whiteout conditions and brutal winds. It was a bold, calculated risk, and it paid off. But for Libby, just doing the Iditarod was a big deal. She says that as long as she did her best and gave it 100 percent, she really didn’t care where the chips fell. And part of that was breaking the race down — not thinking about the entire 1,000 miles, but just getting to the next checkpoint. Manageable goals. That mindset, along with her deep connection to her dogs, helped her make history.
Her deep relationship with her dogs helped carry her to victory in the 1985 Iditarod, and in the years since, she’s become an advocate for the sport, working to help people understand what dog mushing is really about. These days, it can be tricky for people to grasp — most of us see dogs as companions, not as athletes bred for endurance and work. But those who rely on working dogs, like service animals, tend to understand the dynamic better. And when people see sled dogs in action — on a dogsledding tour or in a race — they get it. They see the excitement, the energy and the joy these dogs have for running, and they start to understand why mushing isn’t just a sport, it’s a way of life.