“The nice thing about rotational work is that while you’re up here, you can focus on the work, minimizing distractions that perhaps somebody working from home or just the normal 9-to-5 job might ordinarily face. I think that has benefits both in terms of the quality and the safety of the work,” says Steve Kolb, a construction safety specialist with Beacon.

The standard workday is a 12-hour shift, leaving employees to their own means for the other 12 hours of the day.

“For downtime, most people tend to adopt a pretty consistent schedule. You don’t see a lot of wasted time; most folks will get some exercise in immediately before or after their shift—be it weight rooms or cardio, whatever the case may be—and afterwards get a meal, shower, prepare their stuff for the next day. Then most folks are ready for bed—they might get a phone call into the family, a little bit of reading. And that’s it: get up the next day and do it again,” Kolb says.

Though the Arctic environment outside the facilities is brutal, the camps themselves are relatively comfortable, says Ahern.

The work camps, and even Deadhorse, are mostly made up of modular buildings that look like large boxes created from painted corrugated steel: Lego block buildings with each container serving a specific purpose. Designed to allow airflow below them—either through venting systems or by being built on stilts—to prevent permafrost from melting and the structure sinking, the buildings have an almost post-apocalyptic feel to them from the outside. Yet inside they are packed with amenities.

“We have Wi-Fi, as phones are a source of communication and entertainment in this day and age. All the established camps also have gym facilities, and most have an area with recliners and some books available—a library of sorts. We also have a theater room,” Ahern says.

“Some seasonal activities include a scheduled fun run—an opportunity to walk or run outdoors on a predetermined course. There is also a summer polar bear plunge, where you can jump into the Arctic Ocean—again, this requires some coordination,” Ahern says, noting that because of the presence of grizzly bears and polar bears organized outdoor activities require a security detail trained in bear hazing.

The presence of bears and other wildlife and a need to minimize impact while working in the area necessitates that most employees keep their outdoor excursions to a minimum. The weather conditions and prevalence of potentially dangerous work activity compound the need for employees to remain inside, whether or not they’re working, Kolb says.

“We just don’t want people wandering around placing themselves or others in potentially hazardous situations,” Kolb says. “So, as far as recreation goes, we tend to have physical activity indoors—the weight room, cardio rooms, mat rooms. Most places also provide other recreational opportunities such as game nights, movie or TV rooms, music rooms—things of that nature. But you definitely don’t want people wandering around outside.”

What individual working days look like depends entirely on the type of work employees perform on the Slope.

As Ahern explains, “Mornings are busy for field execution and supporting work crews in executing hazardous, life-critical activities—I often juggle my mornings between some mandatory meetings and performing life-critical permitting that includes all hot work [open flames, welding, spark-producing tools, or non-intrinsically safe tools in a classified area that contains hydrocarbons]; unguarded working at heights; confined space entries; multiple-source energy isolations; crane lifts [lifting operations]; and opening and blinding operations. I ensure the jobs are compliant with local, federal, and client policy and procedure and review the risk assessments associated with those jobs. This is required prior to beginning work.”

But no matter one’s day-to-day work routine, everyone needs to manage their life in what is essentially a densely populated, confined area.

“Due to the nature of remote camp life, there is typically someone sleeping 24/7, so it’s important to conduct yourself appropriately: no slamming doors, no loud conversations in the hallways, no loud music in your rooms–courtesy is key,” Ahern says.

Not all camps are identical. However, their modular nature lends itself to similar designs and systems for living quarters.

“The vast majority of the sleeping quarters in this camp have two beds and two bureaus in them for clothing storage,” Ahern says. “The idea is that one person occupies the room at a time—one day worker sleeping at night, one night worker sleeping during the day. It’s designed to work this way, but it’s sometimes possible that you will share a room with someone if camp is crowded with day workers during construction activities or drilling activities that require specialized teams onsite to assist with projects.

“There are private bathrooms in the hallway that you can go into and lock behind you: they have a sink, toilet, and shower and they are very clean and practical. Some camps have shared bathrooms between two occupants [aka a Jack and Jill] and some older camps have general use facilities down the hall shared by all, but those seem to be getting phased out as progress continues to accommodate the resident remote worker. In a perfect world, you would have a private room with a shared bathroom between two rooms. Progressive building of camps is leaning this way, but it depends on your situation.”

Workers who are out “on the ice” in winter during an exploration phase will stay in modular units hauled in and out on trucks and assembled on ice pads for the season. In these situations, bed space is at a premium and workers will most likely have a long-term roommate, Ahern explains.

“Not ideal, but that is the price you pay for exploration and construction phases of operations. In my current camp, I am a permanent resident—I have a private bedroom with one bed in it and shared Jack and Jill bathroom,” Ahern says.

Though living quarters can be tight, a great amount of effort is put into making certain teams are well fed. In what otherwise would be food deserts, teams working on the North Slope are accustomed to a variety of fresh produce and regular hot meals.

“It’s generally good food; they buy high-quality food and have good cooks. There’s a lot of variety: multiple entrees to choose from, fresh baked goods, fresh fruits and vegetables. And they do a good job of making healthy choices available,” says Kolb.

Camps serve three hot meals a day, sometimes four when the workload is up and more people than usual are working around the clock. Workers also have access to the spike room, which has food and beverages available around the clock.

“It has always been mandatory to utilize a hand sanitizer and wear disposable gloves prior to going through food line or getting coffee,” Ahern says, noting that infectious germs can spread through a camp like wildfire, so the COVID-19 pandemic has changed little about dining in the camps.

Though not on the North Slope, Heidi Morris is the woman behind ensuring that the employees working on Granite Point Platform in Cook Inlet are getting meals that will help keep them healthy and happy. She’s also responsible for roll call in the galley in the case of an emergency on the platform.

“I take pride in keeping morale high and our home away from home clean,” Morris says, noting that she makes birthday dinners and cakes when the occasion strikes. “We laugh a lot, looking after each other so we all make it home safe to our families.”

Morris started working on the platform in 2013 and held various positions before becoming the head cook at the remote facility. The team on the platform is—in many ways—as isolated, or more, than those working on the Slope.

Employees come and go from their rotation work via helicopter, Morris explains.

“You have to be a certain kind of person to work out here,” she says. “When I came out here, the very first time I stepped on a platform, I was like, ‘What the heck am I getting myself into?’” She arrived when drilling was underway, so the platform was particularly busy with people living and working there.

She adapted quickly, she says, and enjoys the working conditions and the fortnightly helicopter ride to or from work.

At first, though, the significant time away from her husband was tough.

“You have to make it work. Or, if you don’t, I guess you get divorced,” Morris says, noting that talking several times a day has helped.

“We FaceTime, text, and talk, making plans for the two weeks off together. That’s when you make the best of life count for being away from each other!” Morris says.

Kolb concurs that being away from family can be a stressor for those working in remote camps.

“When you’re rotating out here, folks with families don’t have the benefit of returning home in the evenings to be with their families. That’s one liability that attaches to the work,” Kolb says. “You can make up for that then when you’re home because you’re there full time.”

High wages and the opportunity to spend off-weeks hunting and fishing in the state’s vast wilderness attract many people to the rotational work in remote Alaska. But that’s not the only thing drawing employees to the Slope.

“There are some really interesting projects up here. Quite often you talk to the workers and, not only do they like the challenge of a good project and working with good people, they have a sense of pride because in most cases they are building something durable up here,” Kolb says.

“They are building something that very tangibly contributes to the state or national economy or energy security, something that benefits a large number of people. The workers take a sense of pride in building relatively complex projects and knowing that their effort is going to have a lasting and significant benefit.”