Do Not Feed The Wildlife

The return of the fox and his skittish companion have pulled on strings of compassion, being Christmas time and all. The meals have been pouring in, fish heads, tail fins, bread, smoked trout, and even a piece of chocolate for dessert, but something special was a breasted out Spruce hen for my friend. I spare no expense for the trust and friendship in this land where friends are not common.

Speaking of such wonderful sights, my Christmas present came early, two days early to be exact in the form of Sasquatch! Well, it is not Bigfoot, but equal in quality to the poor photography and rarity of these animals, it may as well have been the illusive monkey/man shaped giant. But today it was a seemingly hungry and time pressed Wolverine who scanned the river side for remains of food or a scent for a future kill. Whatever he was doing, he was in a hurry and no matter what noises I made, he cared little as my presence across the river was of no concern to him. Judging by size, color, behavior and likelihood in location, (contrary to my previous belief) I am almost certain it was a true wolverine.

The sunrises and sunsets are on occasion a fluid transition of color schemes, moving clouds and rays of light that allow no day to transpire. With less than two hours of sun a day, there have been these days when colors in the sky have remained from the rise and become the set.

There are ducks galore, and I don't know what variety they are, except they love to swim against the current and dive constantly and often under the ice shelf in search of .... I don't know what they are eating or looking for, but explorer's they are and many. I have tried to feed them bread. Loaves of bread I toss out to them, but they are not like back home, often taking flight keeping their wing tips wet with each constant flap and flick as they launch themselves not more than a few inches from the waters surface.

Other birds have been around, little white with red collared ones, small black ones that love to swim, the occasional seagull, an eagle now and then, magpies, crows, and more that I don't know of.

Along with my gathering wood, and supervising the lodge grounds, life is terribly slow. I have enjoyed the absence of the holiday chaos and all that it involves. My food supply is plenty, and although I eat from when I awake until I sleep, there is truly too much food. I will continue to eat with diligence and try to keep warm with winter weight, but that might only be an extra pound or two.

The lake is frozen from what I can see, but it continues to bellow and complain, cracking and making extremely loud, echoing tones that bounce from mountain to mountain and soften on the snow. I don't trust it enough to cross yet, and until I see a moose on it, I'll stay on my side.

It was a good day today, calm and clear. Christmas is about over but before it goes, Crab Cakes and Cous Cous with onion and green peas is for dinner. Hopefully everyone else had a wonderful time leading up to today and enjoyed it as much as you all could.

Merry Christmas!

Extreme Winds

The wind has been howling for several days now, and bringing the temperatures to well below zero when you factor in the wind chill, single digits without. I could not run fast enough from the sauna to my cabin, less than two minutes and the strands of my hair were frozen into chunks, making me stand bent over the wood stove to melt the ice. I watched the clouds of snow blow off the mountain tops all headed West leaving some sides nearly bare rock. Trees were swaying heavily, noises of cracking and breaking from either the trees or the ice on the lake, possibly both but were heard briefly before being drowned out by another fierce gust. The breeze was felt indoors, no matter how much I packed door jams with towels and blankets, I could not get warm enough yesterday until I was in bed under a few extra sets of covers. The wind turbines powered through, bending their metal foundations like a popsicle stick. I might need to check if they still work after blowing the circuit breakers and hearing a very unpleasant buzz coming from their power box. Which brings me to these amber colored ice cubes that I could hear bouncing off my tin roof in the early hours of the morning. It was so cold, the heat rising from my chimney pipe was cooled off so quickly that by the time it came out the top, it was just condensation of smoke, turned into liquid and thus frozen liquid smoke. Amazing! It smells good but I won't eat it. Inside my cabin, with just a mere crack in the window, it froze everything in my refrigerator, from my canned tuna to pineapple and my iced tea. Interesting enough, the tea was extracted from the water itself when frozen and I thought that to be very odd, even picture worthy.

A few other pictures of how cold it was, the waves that pounded the banks, grew to be in some spots about eight inches thick and upwards of over three feet wide. My boat was covered broadside, gas lines, oars, the motor, everything. Nothing a few whacks with a sledge hammer wouldn't fix.

As the pictures show, sunshine and blue skies have been very welcomed, although its not that nice to be out in for long periods which is anything longer than twenty minutes or so. I have gone through my first ten pounds plus of steak and had to thaw out another for butchering. When that was ready for cutting, I saved about five pounds for making jerky in the smoker and the oven. 2/3 of it was teriyaki and the rest was a dry rub and smoked. I preferred the oven, due to how thin it was cut, smoking was too strong by the time it was done. The oven made it near better than any store bought and its something I'll take away from here to hopefully make in years to come. I don't think making jerky out of rib eye will be cost effective in the real world but up here its all I've got and it sure is great.

These are the before cooking/smoking pictures. Smoking lasted about nine hours by time it was dried out and in the oven with the teriyaki on the sticks took about four to six hours. This was the first batch and after all was done, two pounds of jerky was all I had. Its gone!

So the ice continues to grow and form a life of its own, and looking quite pretty while doing it. I've never really looked at ice beyond the cubes in a tray for a cold drink but in large chunks, sheets and layers, it really is mesmerizing, or I am easily entertained. I think its a little of both, and anything new in my world up here is given a little extra time, extra thought and of course is photographed.

Salsa supply is gone, next time I will have to reserve at least seven gallons. I've got chips though!

I'll make do with some makeshift salsa.... we'll see.

Artistic Creations

Month three has begun and it will soon be a memory of good times, so I'm trying to make the most of it. I don't know what would have happened in these past two months had I been with the rest of you all, but up here its been slow, quiet and relatively comfortable.
December has started out nicely, blue sky and visible sun for a little over four hours. I must say that the cabin isn't placed in an ideal area for maximising the sight of sun. The mountains that tower over me are so close that the sun can not rise high enough to shine over the tops and reach my window, which I'm staring out looking lonesome for its light. I was informed that in Barrow, Alaska, they will not see a sunrise or sunset for the next seven weeks. I have it a little better than they, but anyone who depends on sunlight to survive, this is not a place for you. It was a great day to take a walk over the semi frozen lake, taking each step with caution, pounding my foot to hear any cracks or breaks.... and then taking another step. Once I determined that the first hundred feet from shore was solid, I ran and slid, shuffled my feet as if ice skating and having a great time actually getting some exercise. The fox who has still been absent from view was out long before I, making his rounds of the lake. I figured he was hunting, and judging by the scrambled footprints in the snow near what seemed to be tracks of some other extremely small critter, shrews or....???
His tracks led me further up the lake to where I just said enough was enough. He could have gone on for miles or another ten yards but figuring a way over a very unstable ice bridge and running creek under it was not on my to do list. I had to try anyway and it broke.

Some of the ice that broke was layered for a total of about six inches. It broke easily around the edges but remained solid in the middle. It really is neat to see how ice forms on all sorts of objects like rocks on the shoreline. Its as if the rock is glass, all shiny and smooth but with a little pressure, the coating chips away to reveal the plain old rock. Its also neat to see the bubbles captured in ice, thick and thin alike have these elongated masses of air, and it looks very artistic.

Sitting on Skype the other day, it was snowing quite heavily mid morning to after noon. Through the snowy distance there was a large flap of wings and a gentle glide to the shoreline where a Bald Eagle had just caught a fish and when I could look through the binoculars all I could see was the fish's tail flopping and the eagle glaring in my direction. He could probably see me better than I could see him, and for the times that he had to watch from above as I reeled in a fish, now it was his turn to show off his skills. I admired that. There was a pesky magpie that just landed in hope of sneaking a bite away from the much larger fisherman and although his dancing around was entertaining, the eagle had enough and flew off with a half eaten kill.

It wasn't but a short time later that with a glance out the window again, a large cow moose was wading across the river and was on her way out as I scrambled to get a picture. Without a care in the world, or maybe the only one being how she was going to warm up after a swim in the frigid waters, she just looked around and slowly meandered off into the woods. Had it been me, I would have waited for a better day, perhaps with a little more warmth.

Glowing from the sun strikes the clouds that paint my world orange and pink on the horizon and fade back to grey again every morning. On the best of these days, there is more than just the horizon that is filled with color, be it in the morning or the evening. Its hard to realize the potential of all clouds when the sun is not out. They are all dormant in color, and liveliness until given that breath, and they light up to beyond what anyone could imagine. How do such beautiful colors come from grey? I thought that a little black mixed with white was all that consisted of that color, not purple,orange, yellow, pink, red, and shades in between.

I'm not an artist so I don't know but I truly get inspired when staring into these daily creations.

One down...

Starting the day with five clicks above zero, unbolting the front door is the best part of each morning. The rush of frozen air engulfing the entryway, swapping places with the warm air that had previously occupied the cabin. Taking that first breath, near freezes the lungs but feels more refreshing than intolerable. Quickly latching the door to stay open, taking a moment to gaze across the river to an open meadow of white, looking up and down the river to make sure all is still calm and together, I grab a small armful of wood to stoke the fire and prepare to go fishing. Two casts out of the cabin, all is frozen, the rod, reel, line, time to have a cup of tea and try something else, inside perhaps. Between online reading, a few typing skill games, my usual investigation of Craigslist and a gentle brush through of Ebay, I resume my morning with breakfast and waiting for the sun to rise. The rays no longer peer over the mountain tops, nor the sides, but instead come gleaming out of the trees, arching towards the next set of mountains in front my window nearly cresting the jagged points of Jack Knife before embarking on its ever reliant journey toward darkness.

In an overwhelmingly long night of cat and mouse antics, I Tom the cat, caught Jerry the shrew. I felt very proud of his capture, meeting his demise from lust after my sunflower seeds and peanut butter tin can. He started out menacing me as usual when the lights turned off. Scratching, biting, running all about, seemingly practicing for the Mouse Olympics or just naturally talented in the high jump. I directed the beam of my spot light on him as he knew no boundaries, up on my work bench, hoarding seeds in his cheeks, then scurrying into the dark. Climbing on my dirty dishes, hoping to lick the bowls of the last dinner, catching crumbs that manage to elude the bristles of my routine sweeping. Not now, may Jerry rest in peace at the bottom of some trouts belly or in the beaks of the foraging seagulls. Nights have returned to quiet, except last night, a quick glance to the left and Jerry 2 ran across the floor. Immediately the trap was reinstated for action and although I haven't heard his presence, its only a matter of time.

On one afternoon, the fog was far off in the distance, as seen above. However it was moving quickly and before I could row back, I was in its grasp, hiding the sunlight and all navigating landmarks around. I was rowing out there to get out of the cabin and to see the newly formed ice layer that stretched from one shore to the next. It was full rowing power as I drew closer and closer, colliding was the goal and splitting the ice was a bonus. It wasn't an immediate stop, but it was rather abrupt. Three/quarter inch thick ice is no match for weak arms like mine and I found myself nestled in there tightly, like a pig in a blanket feeling. Rocking the boat back and forth created a current of waves that flowed under the ice cap. It was very subdued and restricted in movement, but there was cracking and electric current sounds that rose from beneath, breaking the ice around my boat. Reluctant but eventually fracturing the ice as far as I could see the wave motion before it dispersed into the calm, as it was before my menacing curiosity arose.
Looking down beneath the ice, was motionless waters, clear and greenish blue with a sandy bottom and an occasional large stone or pile of stones. It could have been forty feet or fifteen, but it seemed the same depth as there was nothing to gauge the distance. I was scouting for fish, the old fashioned way, but no luck. I eventually rowed back as the fog was now here, and a gentle breeze helped push my boat broadside down the river. Hooking into a few big Char, every cast was a multiple success. If one got off, another would be there to pick up what his partner could not handle. It was not a harvesting day, only catch and release.

A frozen wonderland, is exactly what it was like wandering around the forest and lodge grounds. Every tree was showered with crystals of ice that formed a whole new type of foliage especially for the winter months. Of course it did not last but while it was here, it was magnificent to look at. I would easily sacrifice the fading colors of leaves, for the melting and growing formation of ice. It was a sight to see.

Thanksgiving was nice out here, and although family and friends were near on Skype, they were missed. Most of all, I missed pumpkin pie, from Costco! I hear homemade is good, however there are some things that are better from a store. Maybe I haven't had anything worth mentioning from home or scratch, but on pumpkin pie, Costco has most everyone beat. For all who had pumpkin pie, I hope you enjoyed it immensely.
My bird was shot the day prior, a Spruce Grouse that found its life in jeopardy as the annual holiday of bird eating drew near. Accompanied with it was a medley of cranberries from the high bush picked earlier this year, apples and walnuts with a mixture of lemon and orange juices with a few other touches called for making cranberry relish. A very flavorful stuffing with a good dash of tarragon and a recipe for baked brie. As most people this past Thursday, there was far too much food to eat at one sitting, and naturally we all will gorge ourselves night after night for the next week on leftovers.
There are certain good things about being up here away from the frantic holiday moods, the impatience and the sides of people you would rather not see as they dash from here to there getting ready for another holiday that is sure to creep up on everyone as it always does. I don't miss the Black Friday and the craziness that it illuminates in all that lose themselves to a shopping frenzy. I don't miss the lines in a supermarket, but I do miss the options it provides for a change in diet. I don't miss the four light changes it takes to make a left turn on a busy afternoon or the honking of horns and pushy, reckless and insistent drivers that make it all very unappealing. There are many pros and con's to being out here, and for not being here and doing the mentioned above for twenty something years, I'll give this a go for once. Maybe never to do again, maybe to repeat every year, I will just rest assured that everyone down there will have plenty of their share and want a little of mine up here.

MIGHTY MOUSE

Snow finally fell, and a good amount! It came silently in the night around eight and didn't let up until the following afternoon around four. Pushing the front door open was met with stiff resistance where an abundant amount of snow had accumulated on the deck. First actions were to make a pathway to the river so fishing could resume and instead of snow boots, hip waders were more appropriate. I had three shovels handy to help dig my pathways to the end of the cabin, the thermometer on a pole just outside my window and eventually paths would be cleared to the sauna, wood shed and the shops where the snow mobiles are sitting. It was an adventure grooming the trails of sixteen inches of powder with a snow mobile that seems to have a mind of its own. Either too much gas or way too much gas are the options and either one I choose seems to end up with near roll overs, going into the river or in most cases into a solid object like trees.

I managed to get the machine stuck a few times, but accomplished the packing down of trails.

I have made a small adjustment to my bathing routine, now its only on Friday's, possibly even every ten days. The other days, Monday and Wednesday I use my newly formed outdoor showering facility with five gallons of warm water, a rag and a cut open used salsa container for pouring. Its quite cold, even with the sides to shield the wind, and the bathing time is next to lightning speed, as soon as the shampoo and soap is gone, I pour the remainder over my head, shake off like a mangy dog and run for the warm cabin to defrost the ice that formed on the strands of my hair. Its been single digits at about eleven in the morning and the highest I've seen with full sunshine was twenty eight before it plunges back down in a matter of  minutes.
I decided that the hassle of gathering water for the sauna in all this snow, putting on more clothes, boots and snow shoes just to go take them off and get clean, then put them all back on to return is a hassle that only needs to be done three or four times a month. I was out snowshoeing today and pulling a sled up the hills around camp, gathering firewood and exchanging propane bottles. Your heart races, breathing begins to hurt a little and the inhaling of air through my mouth numbs the teeth from how cold it is. Its the feeling of drinking ice water, straining it through your teeth before you swallow. None the less, the walk in the clumsy, oversized clown shoes seem to work and I only sink about six inches instead of fourteen.

A new moon rises each evening, just before sunset which for me seems to be around 5:45. I have not switched over to the daylight savings time, so I go off of the PST. There is really no reason to change, and for one possible chance I get to not obey the times of this world, I can and it makes absolutely no difference. Time doesn't really mean too much to me, the days are already extremely short, hunger kicks in at all hours, so I just eat, or sleep or fish whenever I feel like doing so, there is no schedule to keep.

This morning was extremely lively for things out here, the echo's don't sound so loud, dampened by the blanket of snow, leaving the rapids down stream of the cabin the only constant noise to be heard. This morning there were several different noises, a couple dozen Spruce Hens came flying in from across the river, flying low to the water and making the distinct buzz of wings that these chicken like birds make. Several landed in front of the cabin, others on my boat, most on the waters edge pecking away at any available food source, but two or three rogue birds made me jump when they seemingly crashed onto the roof of the cabin, clamoring and scratching, trying to get a grip on the slippery metal surface. It was the most startling sound heard yet. I didn't shoot any, there are several in the freezer that need to be eaten first. However the fingers were itching, half to pull the trigger and the other half to spill blood and feel the warmth of fresh meat in the hands. I settled on two trout later that afternoon to fuel the harvesting instinct. There were other noises this morning that extended into the evening, which is a sign that the scenery is going to change very soon. Large, small, river width and plywood sized sheets of ice drifting past, crashing into birch tree branches that loom over the river, dipping their ends under the surface, and also the rocks that now show themselves and their wounds given to them by poor riverboat captains that had misjudged their shapes or depth in seasons past. I too have been one of those captains, and there have been a few dings and dents that are attributed to my miscalculations. The ice had come from my side of the lake, in the protected shallows where no breeze could disturb the formation of these once silent, now noise making frozen waters. And still there are more noises, the scratching, the biting, the crawling and the noise of ruin as shrew's climb and menace me in the night. I listened carefully as one was chewing on a bag of chocolate chips in the bathroom area, converted to refrigerator. I grabbed a flashlight, put on a glove and flung open the door, only to find no sign.... until the light caught his beady eyes staring at me, shivering in fright as my hand drew closer to grab him. Being blinded by a spotlight would throw off the concentration of my attack, or you might think it would but as I went for him, he sprouted wings and flew off the vanity, landing on the floor and surviving another day. Since then, we play a little game. I try to fall asleep faster than they can come out to make noise and keep me awake. I haven't won yet. However I have fashioned a trap, that hasn't worked yet but I keep the hope alive that death will be produced. We'll see.

Thanksgiving is coming soon, and my meal preparations need to be thought out, the menu, the timing of it all and the company that will show up unexpectedly. The fox has not been seen since the fall of the snow, when he was spotted bounding up and almost vanishing before springing up and then back down. I don't think he likes the winter time. Picasso has been in hiding as well or eaten, I'm not sure. I will keep a plate for either or both that arrive, and any others that care to join, I think I have a little of something for every animal, meat eater or plant. The sunrises have been very beautiful, the sunsets have been as well, and the days have been blue skies and sunshine. Although the warmth is not felt on the skin, the warmth is felt deeper within. I miss the sunshine quite a bit, almost enough to be thinking about my post Alaska trip to a tropical destination.