Pictoral Summary of My Summer

As I mentioned before I had a very busy summer. This tends to be the trend in all places where the summer is 3-4 months long but this one was even more so then usual. So, rather then bore you with too much verbage here is a pictoral summary with a little bit of clarification of the highlights.

Measuring vegetation monitoring plots.

I spent a week in Denali in the same house that Olaus Murrie lived in. What an amazing place to be - staying in the place where one of the greatest -oligists of this state and one of the first conservationists here lived. I was there to help train and to pick up my 3 person crew. (Just one of my crews this summer - last week the last seasonal left. Break!)

Rafted the glacially laden river that is very famous for it's salmon. It's Red (Coho) Salmon fetch the highest price on the Seattle market. This was a invasive weed survey and patrol.

Scary holes in the water. I will post more about fishwheels (I promise Rubberducky!) later but there were plenty of them on this river (our is) including some carcasses of wheels that had washed downstream. I have to admit that one of my guilty pleasures this summer, when I found a minute, was to text my sister about the very famous, expensive red salmon "Five minutes from the river to grill - you should come visit". To which she invariably replied "u stink". My sister can always be relied on to know exactly what the price is that it is fetching on the market at any given time.

Watching glacier calving from the Million Dollar bridge (not to be confused with the bridge to no where although it may well fall into that category depending on your view) - it counts as movie entertainment up here. We were camping here at the end of our float and waiting for a pickup the next morning.

Brutal hikes to research caves and mines in July heat. It was hot! Don't let anyone ever tell you that it's always cold in Alaska.

I wonder if they built to code?

A massive 60,000 acre fire, lightning caused, in wilderness, dual agency response (i.e. disagreement of what needed to be done). Flying helicopters into the smoke, trying to lay plots ahead of where it will burn.

Didn't think these guys lived here either did you? Nope, nobody else did either.

Flying over the Malaspina, a small little ice field the size of Rhode Island. Climate change and whale and harbor seal / boat collisions.

Another lovely piece of ice that threatens an entire way of life every time it closes that gap. Last time the military (and the major) thought we should detonate a small nuclear bomb to clear up the problem.

The Disreputable Dog grows tusks! Nope, he just found some sheep horns on a backpacking trip and decided to bring them home as a souvenir.

Backpacking with my love, my parents, and the DDog. (You already heard this story so I won't belabor it)

Ice storm. It did this to our tent zippers too.

More cave work.

Fire severity.

The Disreputable Cat always ready to warm my lap at home.

Burning Daylight

It's June and the solstice is around the corner. The entire first week of June went by in the blink of an eye and now it's summer in Alaska. It's hot too. For those of you who still secretly harbor thoughts that it is always cold in Alaska I'll have you note that it was 85F (30C) all last week. The salmon have begun running and we are harvesting the first of our lettuce. This weekend I found a junco's nest in the grass and the mosquitoes got so bad that we were actually forced inside long enough to realize the power had been off for 6 hours. I got my fishwheel permit and we're on the neighbor's fishwheel so I expect a few 3am phone calls to clean a hundred fish or so. WE even did a little dipnetting but there was a rain on Friday and the fish were hanging loose in the water, gauging the new flow, and we didn't have any hits. There is so much I want to come and write about here, to share with all of you, and yet I never seem to make it here lately. There's just too much going on. We are burning daylight here - and like the metaphorical candle it is on both ends.

I'm headed to the most famous of Alaskan parks this week to pick up another crew of mine and to attend some of their training - they are part of a network effort so all of the training for several parks will be occurring there. I'm not looking forward to the 7 hour drive (starting as soon as I'm done here) but it should be an enjoyable week and I hope it will be cooler. Truth be told though, I think this park is rather over-rated and has too many visitors, I prefer my own (but then, I'm biased). But still, it should be fun and I will likely run into many people I know there from grad school and other jobs. If I'm really lucky I'll get out on a hike or a run there. But it's unlikely - that is, if you don't count field work. Thank goodness for fieldwork though! It's what makes all the lab and computer time worth it. Of course, it makes it hard to get around to reading all of you as regularly as I would like...

One Dead Bear & A Blueberry Pie

It's okay, you can look, it's a paper bear. A very dead paper bear but a paper bear nonetheless. Doesn't s/he look ferocious? Yesterday was my annual bear safety/ shotgun training. At least mostly annual. I've given the bear training myself more times then I can count and I try not to fall asleep when someone else gives it but the afternoon shotgun session is always worth being outside for a sunny spring day. That despite my exceedingly bruised shoulder from the shotgun (but see that shot right through the heart - that's mine). Plus I got blueberry pie out of it.


Let me just say, for the record, that despite my many years in bear country and my many encounters only 1 of them ever involved a charge and I emptied a can of Bear Spray in that grizzly's face and it stopped. Granted, it stopped about 1 foot in front of me and my quivering fieldworker who I was holding down with my other hand (he thought he should run! Never, ever run from a bear!), but he stopped. For the most part I won't be taking a shotgun with me but relying on good old pepper spray (I have an old post on it here, if you want more details). There are two occasions I prefer to have a gun though: 1)when I'm working on a salmon stream - let's face it, this is pretty much a grizzly bear buffet and they may think that this little naked (relative to a bear) bear needs a lesson in who gets the best fishing holes and 2) when I'm working in an area where I know the bears are not only well adapted to humans but to their food (this is a particular problem in bear-baiting areas - don't get me started).

Here's some fun bear-human facts to entertain you:

-more people get killed by pet dogs then bears
-in Alaska, more people get killed by moose then bears
-bears have never attacked a group of 4 or more if those people stand as a group (cowering behind your partner doesn't count - you've got to stand shoulder to shoulder)
-bears are a lot like dogs in their body language
-bear bells mean absolutely nothing to bears since they never evolved with a sound similar. However, pick up a stick & snap it up in little pieces and they will hear it and take good heed.
-I'm way more scared of humans then bears (but this fact may be more about me then bears)

This picture is not mine - I don't know who to credit. I've been told it's of a local bear but there are a few tree species in the photo that make me suspicious of that. As you can tell though, bears will go to great length for food!

Do me a favor, if you live in bear country, take down your bird seed already! And don't put it up again until it looks like winter!

Signs of Spring in Alaska

• Strange baby faced men who look vaguely familiar keep showing up at work - all winter long they've had chest long hair and beards but now they've gone in for their "annual" - annual haircut that is.
• Flocks of snow buntings swooping around the roadsides like a wind swept snow storm
• Owls becoming more visible, their hoots filling the forests
• Daylight increasing so fast that it is confusing when trying to guess the time
• Big lakes of melt water stuck between the frozen ground and permafrost. You could stock some of them with fish, I swear.

My mother asked me a week ago how much snow we had - 2 feet I replied. She asked if I was exaggerating. I wasn't. You couldn't even see the benches of the picnic tables and now, a week later, there is bare ground under them.

Somewhat Wordless Wednesday

So I finally am able to upload my photos again - but the system isn't yet refined so I can add my nifty little signature to them. Oh well. This picture is from my weekend ski along a fire break north west of my house. There are a gazillion unofficial trails all throughout Alaska and in winter you can access the ones that in summer would be swamp, such as this fire break. I think they planned this one so it would frame the mountain just so, don't you?

Weekend Fun

This weekend a co-worker (I'll call him Life-Long-Ranger) and I (and the D.Dog) went for a x-country ski on the River-Known-For-Its-Expensive-Salmon. It was amazingly sunny and the four major mountains practically shown with reflected sunlight. It wasn't particularly warm but it wasn't particularly cold either. We skied for miles, enjoying the scenery that is hard to access any other time of year and enjoying the mostly smooth surface to travel on. Only occasionally did we have to avoid jumble ice. On the way back my toes were aching a little but I didn't particularly feel like taking off my boots - I figured the blister could wait.

At home it was immediately clear that I had bled rather profusely through my sock and yes, indeed, I had major blister-ripage on both of my big toes - mashed meat. Sigh. You'd think I'd know better by now.

Sunday morning I was being lazy, soaking my feet in brine and watching the D.Cat watching the birds feeding on my porch. The birds are predominantly common redpolls with two variants of pine grosbeak in attendance as well, the russet and the pacific. Occasionally a Stellar's jay would chase the group away. Then suddenly all of the birds vacated, a huge bird soared by, then came back and landed on my porch railing. A rough-legged hawk. It sat there, thumping it's foot against the railing and then chewing on it distractedly. Then it flew straight at the window, bounced off it with its feet, and flew away. Well you can imagine the D.Cat's excitement although the bird was twice the size of her. She ignored my dire warnings of how one ought not to mess with such birds because they would as soon as eat you as be eaten. Lucky for me she's an indoor cat.

Once my feet were bandaged up enough the D.Dog and I went off into the woods again - sans skis since I couldn't bear the thought of putting the boots on. But we made good tracks hiking in the woods for 4 hours where we saw a little saw-whet owl just beginning its breeding calls. By the end though the D.Dog was on a mission for dinner and it was getting colder although not much darker since the moon was so full and we headed home.

I apologize for the lack of photos - I'm needing to get my system back into working condition.

Snow & Cold

This morning I wake to snow sifting down from the sky the way powdered sugar does for a cake, steady and even, light, coating everything. I do not find this out until the Disreputable Dog and I set out on our morning walk. It's funny how I've forgotten some of the characteristics of cold and how some of the habits have stayed with me. As I unpacked I was absolutely delighted to find my thick down coat and heavy warm boots as my Colorado versions were simply not enough to keep me warm. As I continued to unpack I found more things: long underwear, cutoff sock ankles for that space on one's wrist between glove and coat, several different thicknesses of hats each for a certain temperature range and likewise a set of gloves. When at the coldest three of each of these together makes the perfect pair. I had forgotten I had all these layers, forgotten I needed them, but luckily, there they are. And in the pocket of the coats a headlamp, a habit I continued in Colorado out of sheer habit. One can always use a headlamp somewhere in winter and it's no fun being caught without one.

I am delighted with having, for the first time, a garage for my truck. I never had any particular interest in garages but I can honestly say that it is a pleasure to get into a non-frozen car and not worry about cracking the plastic seat belt cover by hitting it with my bag when the temperature is 0F (-18C) or below. It is nice not to have to scrape the windows clean or to plug the car in at night to a timer so that it warms up enough to start (although I still do this at work). I like having round tires in the morning, not square ones that must be gently warmed up.

Tonight I was tired, mentally, and I new I needed exercise but the gym, a cold empty room at a Bible College with dust bunnies coating the ground and an erie empty feeling, did not appeal to me at all. So instead I went skiing with the Disreputable Dog. Darkness had already started to fall but luckily the shadow twilight phase lasts a long time and afterwards the snow is still quite bright with a little moonlight. By the end of our hour and half ski it had gotten difficult to see. Not only was I stubborn and refusing to turn on my headlamp but the ice crystals on my eyelashes were starting to freeze together.

Moved In

So I finally made it out of the terminal ferry town. They opened the road in the afternoon and as I passed the giant snow plow/ gravel truck belly up in a ravine with all six wheels waving in the air my grip tightened on the steering wheel. One hundred and thirty-six miles is a long way to go when your top speed limit is 35mph. All thoughts of empowerment and hope that had been in my head after watching the US inauguration at the local bar - the only place open for breakfast at this time of year - had fled my head. All focus was on the road. As darkness fell and a blizzard blew up I was absolutely delighted to reach the next town on the road in the beautiful Yukon Territory. My shoulders were bunched up and tight from straining so close to the windshield. At the hotel resteraunt all of the plow drivers were discussing how to get that damn rig out of the ravine - apparently they had gotten the other 3 (!) out of the ditches they had gone in over the previous 5 days but this one was down a pretty steep slope and was proving a challenge. It may be there until spring, spring being sometime in June.

The next day was longish but familiar and I made it all the way to my new home. En route I passed the people who had slept in the hotel room next to me jack-knifed off the road with their trailer blown open at the seams. No one was there though so they had clearly made it to the next town over. Chaos ensued when I arrived at my destination, my rear sore from eleven days on the road (you may remember it took me seven to drive down in the summer). It took a few days but eventually the where's, the who's, the when's got cleared up and my stuff arrived from Los Anchorage and after I had put the pieces of my homemade bed together and dumped the frozen mattress on it and screwed together the pieces of the homemade cat scratching post together I hit the road myself, following the moving crew out to Los Anchorage. I had a shopping mission, and arriving there at the dinner shopping hour I was soon more then ready to get out of town and I headed out to my friend's who had the Disreputables. The Disreputable Cat had quickly taken control of the other dog who is a puppyhood friend of the Disreputable Dog. We spent the night and then headed to our new home.

I've been busy getting new mailing addresses, phones hooked up, internet services, unpacking and cleaning, sorting and making discoveries (why did I pack that?), and filling out paperwork at work. Showing up for work my first day was great - I had a very warm welcome from several people who I've worked with in the past and it felt like coming home. The Disreputable Dog has been so excited to have the scent of snowshoe hare and the, to him, perfect temperature of about 0 degrees F, that his tail wags constantly on our twice daily walks. The Disreputable Cat was fairly anxious the first couple of days but other then a new wariness of strangers she seems to have recovered. We had new snow on the weekend and I went skiing with some of my co-workers and then again the next day on my own. There's nothing better then being able to literally ski from your front door.

The AK Governor

Okay...erm, I can hardly stand this...I just listened to her speech. She's the Governor of my state but I didn't vote for her (rather for her opposition). And now she's the VP candidate? I half expected my blog to be over-run by the rest of you by now asking the questions I have gotten in person such as "What is competitive snowmachining?" I've had to walk a fine line at the bookstore cloaking my politics under the multi-interpretable response "I'm still in shock" and I am, it's no lie.

AK to CO Travel Map

Here is a very rough map of my road trip (courtesy of AAA/ CAA). It's the only map I was able to find that included all of the areas I drove through. My approximate route is the thick grey line. Do you guys want more detail? I can provide it but it will have to be a state by state, province by province map. This at least should give you a good idea - just imagine it that I pretty much followed the spine of the rocky mountains all the way down (they go north-south until the Yukon at which point they turn and go east-west).



Photos are up finally! They're posted on the original posts. Let me know what you think.

Mile 916/ Km 1,474 (Alaska & Yukon Territory)

Alaska Photos

Mmmmm....just got out of some local hot springs near my campground here near the Capital City of the Yukon. Feeling all loose limbed and ready for sleep so this may be short. These hot springs aren't supposed to be part of the deal but some guys laying tile let me in on their secret and I met up with a local girl who was also soaking with her dog on look out.

Alaska Photos

Last night I woke to rain and slept soundly through the rest of the night and its patter on my tent. The next morning the entire tent got wet while breaking it down. Everything was wet. But no matter - we hit sunshine somewhere along the route and in mid afternoon I had it hanging from the bike on the roof of my car while the Disreputable Dog and I took a walk. Most of our drive however was in and out of rain showers. Mountains hovering in and out of mist and cloud, gorgeous light peaking up just right to highlight the still dry grasses and the new leaves on the trees. Saw some deer and a grizz all munching contentedly on the side of the road. It felt good to get into the rhythm of travel and to stop for hikes and sunshine and picnics by river banks.

Yukon Photos

Mile 416/ Km 669 (Alaska)

First day of driving, first night of camping. The Disreputable Dog and I are cozily ensconced in my tent and I can hear the water of a nearby stream rushing by and the warble of the varied thrush. The Disreputable Dog is already down for the count. I have been socializing my way out of the state. I started out at mile zero in Farthest North Ice Free Harbor Town with breakfast with friends, drove to Largest Alaskan City where I met friends for coffee, drove to Town Known For Its Particularly Large Cabbages where I met friends driving south from City of Largest Temperature Range in North America for lunch, then drove on to Town That Exists Solely Because Two Highways Meet, where the Disreputable Dog & have lived on and off, and dropped in on yet more friends having dinner. Of course, along the route we stopped for the Disreputable Dog to take a long swim, stopped for the lone caribou bull with his shiny new coat and velvety antlers who stood in the middle of my lane of the highway while the traffic going the other way roared by, stopped to fill my cooler with goodies, and stopped to sample some old favorite walks and haunts. It was a regular excursion down memory lane and seeing all of these wonderful people who turned out to see me made me feel very lucky. The drive was uneventful and scenic and familiar. We're about 40 miles (64 km) from the Canadian border now and I thought about pushing to get over it but decided instead to try and aim for a decent bed time because I am tired from all my packing and socializing. Clearly the Disreputable Dog is too although I'm sure he slept most of the drive.

Visiting - Mile/Km 0 (Alaska)

I went south for a visit to friends in Farthest North Ice Free Harbor Town, Alaska. I have a busy social schedule planned but I am glad to be here. There is a grizzly bear mamma and her cub on the river gravel bars that run through town fishing for hooligan (a very fatty fish) and they have jammed up traffic. I feel the anxiety of the traffic patrol man who is trying to keep the tourists from going up and trying to pet mamma bear who would not take very kindly to such a thing. En-route to town I had to stop for mamma moose and her week old calf. Mamma stepped easily over the guard rail lining the road and the poor calf couldn't figure out what to do - and then it panicked and dove over the rail getting high sided on it and then crashing down into the gravel and dirt on it's beautiful little muzzle. Poor thing!!

It turned out to be an eventful day. The Disreputable Dog and I hung out with all manner of friends both canine and human - we walked 3 beaches, had breakfast, lunch, and dinner with different groups, took a hike, and then, on the hike, as we were down by yet a fourth beach the Disreputable Dog took a sniff at another human's backpack and was immediately trounced by their dog who apparently is very protective of treats. My poor pup was left with a gash in his muzzle and his ear and we spent the afternoon hunting down the vet and getting staples put in. Luckily the vet was around, he can be very difficult to track down, but he was out mowing the lawn and quipped that I didn't have to get my dog injured in order to come by and see him. The Disreputable Dog was out for the rest of the day - all drugged up and in pain he could hardly lift his tail for a thump when he was greeted. Luckily he had a nice soft floor to stay in to sleep it off on.

It's very odd being in this town. When I left it was as if I had never been there at all - like I had imagined those two years. But now that I'm back everyone (from barristas to bar tenders) acts as if I never left, as if no time had passed since they last saw me. They ask where I ended up but they seem completely unsurprised to see me. I did have a few people track me down though just to shout - it is you! you're back! And then I had to tell them it was only for the weekend. I am absolutely delighted to see friends and catch up on old familiar haunts but I know in my heart that this is only a town I will ever only just visit in the future.

Packing Day

Today is a packing day, and organizing day. And in between I am sandwiching visits with friends in Alaska's largest city. I am dividing my stuff up - summer things to go to Colorado, and household things to stay in storage. Along the way I come across a few things that shouldn't have been packed at all - like the cat food. Why did I pack it? I'm going to blame it on the cold weather and the wind and the snow and ice...it makes you rush your packing to get out of the cold. I'm very glad to be back here. I really missed it. And my friends have been kind enough to say that Alaska missed me. Of course, I don't think it did but it's nice to know that my friends did.

It's one of the good things about taking a break - it has made me realize what how much Alaska speaks to me. It reminds me of the quote "Home is not where you live but where they understand you." I have a little trouble readjusting to the long daylight but otherwise I am content. This is my turf, my stomping ground, and my heart is full with joy at being there.

Road Trip!

Wet spring snow falling past the windows, the Disreputable Cat catching her first live mouse (it was in the house), the deaths of too many young daredevils, meetings with an old friend, trips to the zoo with my niece, and to the park with my nephew, gardening, watching the arrival of western tanagers and cedar waxwings....

I've been a bad blogger and a bad blog reader the last month. I've missed you but things have been so crazy, as much in my head as anywhere, lately that I haven't had the time or the energy to even pick up the computer. And it doesn't help that my computer and Internet access have been spotty. Every now and then I'd wonder how all my blog friends were doing, wanting to catch up but since I knew I was unable to catch up with all of you I caught up with none of you. I've even gotten some new readers who have surely already given up due to the lack of blog posts. Thank you to those of you who inquired after my well-being! I have been fine although preoccupied with decision making. My head has been spinning like the legs of an upturned beetle, my thoughts chasing each other like a fox its tail. The dust is finally starting to clear a little and I hope I'll be around a little more regularly.

But now I'm going to try and make it up to you - I'm going to take you with me on my drive south from Alaska to Colorado. I have decided not to take any of the tempting summer job offers that while putting me in the places I want to be and doing the things I want to do don't actually give my career any kind of boost and just delay the current situation until the fall. So, although it's subject to change, at the moment I am planning on spending the summer in Colorado selling books. So with that in mind I desperately need some summer things which were not packed in my suitcase. So the Disreputable Dog and I are going to drive my camping & backpacking gear, my bike, and some summer clothes down the Alcan (more formally known as the trans Alaska-Canada highway). I've always wanted to drive it in the summer, having previously always driven it in January - I don't know precisely why, it just ended up that way. The Disreputable Cat is staying in Colorado to wait for us.

I'm going to write a post every day but they will only be posted as Internet connections avail themselves (we're camping the whole way down). This means I will continue to be a bad blog reader/ friend for a least another few weeks and have decided that when I start out I'm just going to clear my reader and start with where you are then....but I miss you and do wonder what you are all up to.

PS - CAE, Doris Rose, & Silver Fox, I got your tags, I promise I will get to them!

The Yukon Quest Begins

Tomorrow is race day for the Yukon Quest (http://www.yukonquest.com/), my favorite dog mushing race in existence! The Yukon Quest is a 1,000 mile dog mushing race between Fairbanks, Alaska, USA and Whitehorse, Yukon Territory, Canada and true to it's name the course primarily follows the mighty Yukon River which in it's frozen form was the primary highway into the north in the days of the gold rush. The race alternates which city it starts in and where it ends and is one of the wildest, remotest, and longest of all the sled dog races out there. This year it will start in Fairbanks and end in Whitehorse. You bet that many Fairbanksans will be out there volunteer dog handling at the start on the Chena River and that along the race routes every village along the way will greet the mushers enthusiastically, and there will be people waiting up at all hours of the night in Whitehorse to cheer the mushers across the finish line. This year it looks like there will be 24 intrepid mushers, all of whom have profiles up on the website. There are familiar names up there that I will be cheering along the way.

Dogs impatiently waiting to start by their mushing truck, Quest 2004. Each truck has a symphony of excited dog sounds.

This race more then any other race, in my opinion, challenges the musher's wilderness and survival skills. They must carry certain gear in order to chop their sled out of ice if they should break through, chase off a an attacking moose, food for themselves and their dogs as well as straw for their dogs to bed on. Often the temperatures for this race are well below -40F/C and one days when it warms up too much the mushers have to rest during the day and race during the night to keep their animals from heating up to much. This year it looks like overflow, when river water flows over the frozen ice, will be a big challenge along the race course. Overflow can present a real problem, having dog feet and runners in water in very cold temperatures causes major ice formation on both creating a need for frequent stops to keep feet healthy and runners slidable.

Lining out the team, which is so excited it has to be braked by a snowmachine from the rear, Quest starting line, Fairbanks, 2004.

I'll miss listening to the bark of the excited dogs and the live trail coverage as part of my morning wake-up ritual but I am glad that in this day and age I can still get my fix by listening to it by podcast at KUAC (Fairbanks' public radio station).

Edited to note: It's the 25th anniversary of this race this year!

PS - abernier, if you are reading this, send me an email so I can answer your question more thoroughly!

The state of AK based on my legs

The other night I was at a small dinner party at a dear friend's house. She and I have known each other literally our whole lives. Out friendship has waxed and waned but since college our friendship has only gotten stronger. It's great to have a friend who knows you so well and who you know so well. We don't see eye to eye on everything but we have the kind of friendship that has been around so long that it would take an awful lot to break it.

So we were having this dinner that she made in honor of her younger brother who was off to new adventures and several of his friends were in attendance. Now I haven't seen her brother in ages although I usually am kept up to date with his goings-ons through her and in some ways he and I have a lot in common - the constantly traveling all over to weird places to do work for one. Still, it came as a surprise when his friend's reacted to meeting me by saying "Not the Fairbanks, WS, is it?" and then proceeded to announce that they wanted stories. I have plenty of stories but I always find it hard to start when someone just asks for one, kind of like when someone asks me to say something in another language I know (I finally solved the latter one by always saying "I don't know what to say"). I need a little warm up and to get a flavor for the people I'm with before I launch into any.

Needless to say when we were all sitting down for a fabulous meal one of them started asking real questions about Alaska. It's always interesting to me what people ask about it because it reveals a lot of the mythology that is out there about the state. I don't remember what the guy asked though because Longest Friend burst in with "I would never live in Alaska. Have you ever seen WS's legs? I mean they're white! So white, you wouldn't even believe it! I mean first it's so damn cold they have to wear all these layers and then they have maybe a week where they can wear shorts and then the mosquitoes come out and you have to cover up! I mean, her legs are practically see through!". The poor fellow who started the question said meekly "But they don't have skin cancer." And she fired right back at him "No they just freeze to death." At this point I was laughing so hard I was overcome with a coughing fit (that pesky Thanksgiving crud still hanging in tough) that lasted the better bit of a half an hour and couldn't defend my poor state or my legs. Although she's right about the cold and the mosquitoes (and probably my legs but last I looked I can still see a distinct tan line from my time in Morocco - I should have just pulled up my pant legs and let the company judge for themselves. Granted, one winter I visited my parents after having not left AK for an entire year and I was so pale people kept asking me very pointed, concerned questions about my health).

Still Moving

Eighty mile per hour winds are whipping through the streets of town and through my mind. I feel discombobulated. There are so many things to do all at once and the deadlines loom fast and permanent. I'm having trouble focusing on where to start. My thoughts jumble around the way various blown objects are jumbled against more fast objects, such as the chicken wire that came from no where and somehow wedged itself under my truck in a way that would seem impossible.

This weekend was exhausting but a lot got accomplished and I am very grateful to helping hands. I had one good friend show up and help me with the marathon packing nights. Another good friend rode with me to Los Anchorage to get the U-haul, then back to Small Town, then packing, then back to Los Anchorage, then unpacking, then back to Small Town. Two other friends showed up to help pack the U-haul in Small Town and they also took the Disreputable Dog out for a romp while I was driving it. Two other friends are letting me store stuff in Los Anchorage in their shed, another one showed up to help us unpack. Everything went to Los Anchorage this weekend.

My house is totally empty except for me, the Disreputables, their respective crates, and the couch which I am selling. We sit there in exhaustion...me on the couch, they in their crates, all of us half dozing. There is still all of the little stuff to get rid of and the cleaning to do and the wrap up of the things at work. I am back to where I started when I moved here...sleeping on a cot in my sleeping bag. I've spent more nights in that sleeping bag then any bed I've ever had to lie in. And it is a thing of comfort for reasons I cannot possibly explain. Like everyone else in town the wind makes it hard for me to sleep. It's not so much that it's cold but that it's terribly noisy and you find yourself trying to scrunch beneath the bedding (in my current case burrow into my sleeping bag) with the idea of cold. It is bloody cold out there. When I took the Disreputable Dog out for his evening walk I thought I might just possibly blow away, leaning backwards against the wind to try and create some ballast. Fifteen degrees Fahrenheit (approx. -10C) and 80 mph winds. The feel of one's nose freezing and the skin cracking.

I leave Thursday, the day before the winter solstice, for the Western Lower 48 and family and holiday celebrations. I will be stepping off into mid-air, not knowing yet where I will land but I will not worry about it for now.

Dark as Night

I was thinking about that phrase "as black as night" the other night when it was so dark I couldn't tell the difference between my eyes open and them closed, the kind of discombobulating darkness, where you lose the edges of space and time. It's actually quite unusual for it to be that dark at night. Usually there is some firmament of stars reflecting light, or a high cloud cover that absorbs and reflects light or even a bright moon that may make a winter's northern night seem brighter then day, bright enough to cast shadows on the snow. Often, being under the canopy of trees will make it darker but if there is even a glimmer of snow on the ground you can see your path without the aid of light and when out by the ocean the very movement of the water usually reflects light. Last night was the oily kind of darkness though that forces you to walk by feel and by sound.

I know my route fairly well. At this time of year I tend to walk the abandoned path along the shoreline precisely because it is more light and also because we are less likely to surprise a grumpy moose there and because I love walking the shoreline even in the wind with roaring waves and pounding sleet and having it mostly to ourselves. I always have a headlamp in the pockets of my winter coats because at this time of year you never know when you'll need one but I like to walk without a light. Artificial light can be so exclusive of the night and the sounds and by it's very brightness it can reduce the details of the world around. Even on this darkest of nights I left my light off.

I navigated by the feel and sound of ground under my foot. The slick, smooth accompanied by light cracking noises of the ice along the path edges, the slowly crumpling feel & muted sound of frozen grass, the firmer but yet slightly pebbled feeling and grit grinding noises of the paved path, the rough uneven surface of the rocky shore, the sound of rocks tumbling against each other. I kept the sound of the ocean, it's surface not visible, to my left as I headed out and to my right as I returned. I could not see the Disreputable Dog but I could hear the jangling of his collar in the wind and from time to time I would call him to me just to be sure. And I wondered, what does it mean when someone says "as black" or "as dark as night"? For surely this kind of night comes seldom even here when night last longer then most places.

King Island Christmas

"We'll tell you a story, a Christmas story.

It's our Christmas present to you.

We've wrapped it in music, instead of paper and we're here to sing it through.

It's called King Island Christmas and every word is true.

It's a story of people who stick together and what those people can do."

-

I've just pulled out my x-mas music. I wonder about all of you living in more urban climes if you aren't already tired of the seasonal jingles which get piped into every human occupied place? I know I would be, but the only music I hear is what I play. And one of my absolute favorites has never been piped into any room and is actually the perfect music to listen to when stressed and uncertain about the future (can you imagine that I might be that?). In particular, the song about "the gift of trouble" puts me to tears.

When I first moved to Alaska I was living in Fairbanks and around Christmas I was looking for some sort of holiday theater. There was no Nutcracker, no A Christmas Carol. Instead there was King Island Christmas, a musical inspired by a true story about an Inupiat Eskimo village in the Bering Sea of Alaska. The North Star freighter, carrying the village priest & the villager's winter food supplies, is anchored in the Bering Sea on Christmas eve, on it’s last arctic voyage before the winter ice closes in around King Island (also known as Ukivok - red dot on Alaska map below for approximate location). The waves are too high for the villagers to go out and fetch the priest in their walrus skin boats; without him, there will be no Christmas celebration and they will not have their winter supplies. In a communal effort, the villagers triumphantly carry their oomiak (walrus skinned boat - the original kayaks) over a mountain to the calmer waters of the lee, and bring the priest & supplies ashore. King Island Christmas is a heartwarming story about the power of community and the ability of the human spirit to overcome adversity.

I was captivated. It is an amazing story and the songs it sings! The music and this story to me embody so much of what I feel the holidays are originally about, about good food and company, about community and pulling together to get through the long days, of passing knowledge and traditions between the generations, of sharing your love for one another, of looking for the beauty in your environment, and being thankful for what you have, of overcoming things together. The things that sometimes seem shoved aside as we rush around buying things we don't need.

King Island Christmas has become one of my cherished holiday traditions. I love the songs. I love the spirit of community. One year I found CD's of the musical and bought copies for many of my friends and family members. The next year I wanted to get it for a few people I had left out and was sad to find it had been discontinued. Ever since then it has been my mission to share King Island Christmas with someone each holiday season. To my delight both the book, with lovely illustrations by Alaskan artists, and the CD are now more widely available. If I could I would give each and every one of you a copy. So if you are looking for new music check it out!