Farewell Alaska

Sunshine-

Relentless in rising you are, though ever changing in time.

You bless this land with your presence though often it is all or none.

When the world turns its back to you, it is I who suffer a great loss, and when the world is content to make amends, we know others must endure the same fate.

There is hardly middle ground for northern life....

How do you choose which days you will shine and to which you will hide?

When do you feel the urge to rise with beauty... and to fall with grace?

When the first rays of light stretch and crawl over the land, chasing away and devouring the shadows of night that have dwelt so long, you are but a comfort and warmth to me amongst the violent raid on morning.

I see you crest the horizon with commanding presence that allows no eye to wander nor cheek to turn.

Slowly your glow warms and softens the face... that I smile to receive this gift.

I turn my head and look back to see where dawn has not yet been, and where the battle lines of night must soon give way.

How do you choose to shine with brilliance and blinding force or to cloak yourself behind the heavens? I say you are missed dearly when the clouds are jealous and possessive.

I must plead for their mercy and pray for their kindness that I see your light once again.

You came quite slowly from around the bend, that I notice the moment you are not, and the moment you are.

Quickly you race through my day, moving in the motion you always do, I admire your failure to stray.

I take little notice of your daily travels and give little credit to the effort it requires. The times I notice most are when you are no longer there. And though I gaze upon my own life, worries and troubles for the duration we are together, I do not take you for granted.

Late afternoon is a burden that lay heavy on my soul. Golden and sweet is this time with you but the hour to let go draws near.

What I saw of you first, I must part with first as well. you have done me much good this day my friend, surely this will not be our last.

And as your light is filtered to my eye, perhaps you were this beautiful all the while, only now my eyes may see you whole. As I cling to this last moment of your light, the memories we share I will harbor deep inside for the day you do not shine.

Your strength and might will not be forgotten and the fight you fought will not be in vain. For all you have done this day, proudly you shall rest and concede to the darkness of shadows that overcome.

How do you choose which days you will shine and to which you will hide?

When do you feel the urge to rise with beauty... and to fall with grace?

I have thoroughly enjoyed my time spent up here, with few days living in doubt. I have great anticipation for tomorrow because a good deal of my adventure still awaits. There was a period of time that was necessary to settle in to the lifestyle when I first arrived, and after building somewhat of a routine, I am about to have everything turned upside down when I enter the real world. There will be a need to have patience and although I can choose to be quiet, the world around me will be shouting.
The noise is what I think will bother me most.

Sitting by the fire late at night, watching the stars appear and feel the warmth of flame, That is probably my most memorable of times. Reflecting on encounters with animals, woodcutting, exploring and fishing will be very fond memories but as people say, all things must come to an end.

This is the last of my writing on Alaska. It's been very good to me and hopefully I will return some day. Great places like this seem to pull at me and I can't stay away for too long. Whether or not I caretake again, this has been simply amazing to experience and I feel very strongly that it will be up for consideration in years to come. The winter of 2010/11 has been one of the best.

Alaska-

May you forever prey upon a wandering soul, sharing your wisdom and showing no mercy.

The blood, sweat and tears that you have taken from me, or that I have willingly offered, will remain a sacrifice upon your mountains and beneath your waters, a testament to my gratefulness.

All the mothers who have lost their loved ones to you, they know there will be no return, for you have caught their eye, pierced their heart and entered their blood always to remain.

May you forever hide your worldly treasures from the greedy and proud, reward a man as you always have with your natural beauty at the end of an honest days work.

Continue to prey upon sons and daughters who search for a better land and a richer life.

Be relentless and all consuming. Be plentiful and gracious with your provision of the seasons and allow the suffering of the good hearted along with the bad.

Be not fair nor kind to your captured souls. Be not merciful or forgiving of their humble lives but remain as you always have, wild and unpredictable, rough and beautiful.

Allow us to see all that you will, and speak to us in the fierce winds that scale the mountain tops and flatten the tundra below. Enslaved to you I am, not wishing to know a better place nor having a desire to dream of a better land.

I am yours.

The Trip

A slight hint of smoke flavored the air throughout the cabin as the crackle of fire and the sizzle of eggs added to the sensation of a perfect morning. I stopped and thought how much I am going to miss times like these. Within the cabin walls that have kept me from the winter chill, the walls that I have seen for so long and have grown to be fond of, its going to be tough to leave the comfort and simplicity of a little cabin.

The feeling of a perfect morning, hearing the eggs cook over a fire started yesterday when I awoke and started my journey to Dillingham. The temperature was ten below and frost was forming from the moisture of each breath on the front side of my collar. I had packed semi lightly to make the trip which I anticipated to take around ten hours. A sledge hammer, shovel, a bag of rope, extra gas and a Rubbermaid container for groceries sat atop two sheets of plywood that covered various holes and cracks from another adventure gone sour.

Making my way through the woods, cold air sharp on my freshly shaved face, losing feeling in my lips and cheeks, nose and ears as quickly as I could take notice. Turning quickly left and right, climbing hills and braking down the back side, over bridges that span still flowing creeks and periodically cruising across open meadows. The snow is truth and cannot hide evidence of others being around. Tracks of small field mice sized creatures to the moose that wander with clumsy hooves, there is no concealing them. I appreciate that the forest documents the paths traveled, the cache's of food stored and uncovered, the fact that it forgets everything with a new snowfall.  A soft moldable and decorative form of frozen water, snow is trustworthy because it will not lie.
The sun began to softly touch the mountain tops, revealing the jagged impurities that are the foundation of a mountains beauty. Dodging tree branches and trees themselves, the most painful part of my journey is the alder bush. If words could describe how much pain a little branch creates as it whips back in your frozen face, in particular the lips then I would gladly write them, however I cannot find the words.

I met up with the caretakers of the other lodge nearby and we headed out across the lake towards town. No sooner did we get a mile out in the lake, cruising at a fairly good speed, I glanced back to just check on things in the trailer and to my astonishment there was no trailer in tow. I turned around and lost sight of my riding partner, and looking back, there was no sight of my supplies either. I rode a ways back and found my sled and all its contents sprawled out all over the ice and much worse for the wear. The pin holding my trailer to the machine had bounced out and the trailer tongue had dug into the ice flipping it who knows how high in the air sending the contents crashing back down.
My partner eventually realized I was no longer around, and came to my aid and helped reconfigure a way to keep my mangled trailer attached to the machine. Now by the time I had arrived in the village, the only thing left was my Rubbermaid container with the gas can in it and the plywood bottom. Somewhere along the way, a bag of rope, shovel and sledge hammer were treasures for whoever would find them. Later that day on our way back, we recovered everything except the hammer.


We drove from Aleknagik to Dillingham over icy roads that were moderately plowed. Forty five minutes later, we began to enter the city, catching glimpses of the bay and giant chunks of ice floating in and out with the tide. Massive boats for the summer salmon season littered almost every front yard and vacant lot in this rusty small seaside community. Wild dogs ran about, chasing cars and barking, living a hard life in the winter months unloved and neglected. Equal in disregard, the natives with mental or physical, handicaps, often both, wandered the streets murmuring to themselves or whoever would listen. Put off by their odor, appearance and behavior, it was sad to recall these people who have very little going for them. I could not help but overhear an elderly women who was very confused and possibly under some sort of intoxication claiming her wallet was missing. More than anything she seemed to just want someone to listen. With the heavy accent of native tongue on the English language, she was the face of so many in her condition for the city of Dillingham.

I spent over two hours watching people while I waited for the other caretaker to get his dental work completed. I saw many classic and stereotypical examples of a small bush community, cut off from the seemingly civilized world. I was happy to be headed back to the lodge at the end of the day.
I was also quite happy to have made some rather much needed or desired food purchases.
Fresh fruit- oranges, bananas, strawberries, Asian pears, kiwi's
Fresh vegetables- zucchini, yellow squash, lettuce, carrots, avocados
Misc. Odwalla drinks, smoked oysters, eggs, a box of Ferrero Rocher, yogurt, cream cheese and Pringles.

That was how I had an amazing breakfast over the fire with some fruit and yogurt on the side. It was a much anticipated trip, and a great treat for being without nearly six months.

I'll be coming out to greet the world with arms.... either wide open or closed shut, but I've got two weeks to decide. Until then, I'm soaking up the good life, shoveling snow off the dining cabin roof, which has accumulated a solid three feet and must weigh quite a bit. I'll also be cleaning up my bad habits of leaving dirty dishes and unswept floors in preparation for departure. There isn't much else to do but wait, take pictures and take notice of the small things. The fox has started a bad habit of his own, coming around just after dusk and barking at my door for food. I have been keeping salmon skins and bread handy to throw out in response to his asking.
Tonight an eagle swooped just across the river and perched mid tree. Scratching his eyes, shaking his feathers, glaring at the water for potential supper, and eyeing a few ducks in the distance. A group of otters will occasionally play in front of my cabin, swimming across the lake to play in the snow and roll around, jumping up and down and sliding down their iced over tracks.

I have taken several more walk through's of the cabins around camp, making banana bread to use up my frozen supplies, fishing out crystallized salt from a fish sauce bottle and just snapping pictures whenever the mood strikes.

Almost Mexico

It was hard to sleep that night, anticipation and anxiety were in the air as I waited for sunrise and then a bit longer until late morning. I had been invited over to my nearest neighbors lodge for a late breakfast before heading out across almost 20 miles of ice near three feet thick.
Morning eventually came, and for the first time being up here, punctuality was important. I am still running on the time prior to daylight savings, which is PST and no one else is doing the same. I guessed it might take forty five minutes to get from my lodge to the theirs, through the forest alongside the river and then across lake inlets, a few islands and a straight shot to their front door. I made it in thirty.

Flavors, I almost had forgotten what watermelon, strawberries, and fresh banana's tasted like. We had scrambled eggs and chorizo, tortillas and fresh fruit. Without exaggerating much, it was the best.
Half of the reason I had gone was over and we suited up for a long bumpy ride across Lake Aleknagik. Almost halfway, is a massive pressure ridge where the lake is split in two, or at least the shelves of ice that lay upon it are. Crossing over the massive crack and slight (two foot) bump, you can see down to the water surface or at least within inches. Many areas throughout the lake are dangerous for snowmobiles, due to the lack of snow and black ice condition. It not only can turn your world upside down in a hurry, its very creepy to see, knowing that the black is water below that seems bottomless.

Making our way into the village of Aleknagik, where there is nothing more than a school, health clinic and post office, we stopped for a visit. I met the Park Ranger, and a man at the post office who is the clerk/carrier/postmaster all wrapped up in one.
My day had now been doubled for seeing people, from two to four and although it was refreshing to interact with others, I was beginning to feel flustered and the desire to be alone again.
We didn't stay long before setting back across the never ending washboard lake, and by the time we had arrived on the far end, I had a brain freeze like no other and not to mention a head full of loose screws.

I had envisioned this day for some time, the day I would get to eat fresh produce. I brought with me that morning a small quantity of trading goods that they said would be helpful and that I had an abundance of.
Chips, quinoa, raisins, nuts, soy milk, tortillas, cheese, cranberries and a few other things. In return, were my requests which consisted of fresh produce and salsa. I had fruit, canned and fresh, two varieties of lettuce, spinach, broccoli/carrot/snow pea medley, a cucumber, BBQ sauce, salad dressing and some pineapple. Months of waiting and wanting, craving and sadness over no fresh goods and now, I could feast.
We parted ways in the late afternoon and I left with the same anxiety I had that morning, only this time it was to sink my teeth into the can of tropical fruit mix and open up the jar of salsa which I absolutely pigged out on when I got settled in back home. There was no stopping me.
During the rush to get back, somewhere along the way I had lost the top of my container in which all the food was being stored. Quickly turning around, I regrettably picked a bad spot and became stuck in feet of snow and alder bushes. I dug and heaved, pulled and pushed finally freeing the machine. Over these last few months of riding, the hundreds of pounds the machine weighs has seemed considerably lighter by feel, after freeing it from so many unfortunate wrong turns.
About a half of a mile back, there was the lid, laying in my tracks. No further incidents occurred as I pulled up to the lodge and unloaded my sled bearing priceless treasures. Pulling the food out, the gas cans, snowshoes, ropes and shovels.... make that only one shovel, the other was.....probably not far beyond where my lid was.
Days later.... Today, I finally made it back out to rescue my best of three broken snow shovels... and I finally found it at the bottom of the lower lake turnoff, two miles from my lodge and within sight of my neighbors.

So I have increasingly been in the bomb shelter/air raid mode as I hear engines in the distance. Generally that mode is getting myself decent in attire, arming myself to lock and load status and a quick tidy up of the cabin in case I remember how to be hospitable and invite people in for tea. There were seven people total today, in two different groups that ventured within sight to do a little ice fishing. I'm glad they were out on the ice, because I haven't been willing to be the first in these particular areas. I still see no reason to go, being that not one fish was seen pulled up and much effort was made. They looked cold if anything, and rightly so,watching the sun go down and temperatures drop. It was forty one this morning in my cabin because someone forgot to turn on the heater. Outside it was twelve below and calm as it could be. I saw low forties the other day with full sun and no breeze. The past seven or eight days have been hardly anything different than what you might expect in Mexico, sunny and blue sky.

Mountain Bartering

Lyrics to a great song by Eddie Vedder:  If you know the song Society, this is how I felt in the video above.

Oh, it's a mystery to me
We have a greed with which we have agreed
And you think you have to want more than you need
Until you have it all you won't be free

Society, you're a crazy breed
Hope you're not lonely without me...

When you want more than you have
You think you need...
And when you think more than you want
Your thoughts begin to bleed
I think I need to find a bigger place
Because when you have more than you think
You need more space

Society, you're a crazy breed
Hope you're not lonely without me...
Society, crazy indeed
Hope you're not lonely without me...

There's those thinking, more-or-less, less is more
But if less is more, how you keeping score?
Means for every point you make, your level drops
Kinda like you're starting from the top
You can't do that...

Society, you're a crazy breed
Hope you're not lonely without me...
Society, crazy indeed
Hope you're not lonely without me...

Society, have mercy on me
Hope you're not angry if I disagree...
Society, crazy indeed
Hope you're not lonely without me...

Often, days start out rather slow, progressing little in speed or in interest and, often end slow. But occasionally there is a day when unexpected surprises pop out and make everything feel so much more interesting and alive. I was sitting here at my desk, on the computer in the mid afternoon when in the corner of my eye, I caught the movement and shine of lights. Five snow mobiles and six people were outside my cabin just yards away. I was shocked, excited, nervous and skeptical all at once. I grabbed my pistol, shoved in my pants and braced myself for the first encounter with another person in almost five months.

There was the knock at the door, and I could see a smaller man in height but not so much in width due to his attire of winter gear. He was a native from the village Aleknagik down the river and across the lake. He and his entire family were out fishing at Lake Nerka and were headed back for the day. He was asking about the trail through the forest, which I explained no one had been on this year, and that he would be the first.

It was monumental to see someone, very heart pounding and overwhelming.... I was all smiles.

There was a snow storm that night and I figured, that if I were to have any luck finding the trail they had just made, I'd better get out there as soon as I could. I managed to find the trail, which wasn't the best in ways of marking, so I found myself stopping and hanging flagging tape up every so often for the couple miles until the lower lake was in sight.

Once I had cleared the forest, there was a new landscape, the one in the video. A new frozen terrain, much more open and breathtaking that what I have been staring at for months. I took time to take it all in, strap on my backpack with emergency supplies in case my venture on the ice proved catastrophic. All around me were mountains and miles of open range for touring. To the right, were my nearest neighbors all the way at the end of the lake, along with a host of other small cabins and part time residents of the area. Some were constructed of not much more than what you might find in a nicer Tijuana barrio. Others were very nicely crafted log cabins with steep pitched roofs and tall chimneys. I couldn't resist the urge to have a look around and explore this new scenery, so I set off. Snow machine trails were clearly visible, weaving in and out of inlets, up and over bluffs, and braided throughout the lake ice. I was uncertain of most areas so I skirted the shore all around, occasionally following other tracks that had gone further from shore but returned out of uncertainty. At one point, I needed to cross an area where there were no tracks, so I got up some good speed and said a prayer. Later I found out that the area is about three feet thick in ice, so no worries.

I saw a man out on the ice in the distance and waved as I approached, receiving a welcomed wave in return. I had emailed this gentleman earlier that month, along with his wife. They have been caretaking up at that lodge for the past five years or so, and had given me an open invitation any time I felt like getting away. I had a real conversation that day, with real people, over tea and by their wood stove. I must say that it was a relief to meet someone, and to know my social skills haven't completely gone away. After a couple hours with them, we managed to find out what each other needs or wants in the way of supplies and so our mountain bartering began. I had no intention of going to visit that day and had not brought any trading goods with me, but their generosity was abounding when they gave me a few packs of Top Ramen and large can of mandarin oranges. It seems small and even unappealing to most who can have that anytime they want, but to me, who is without, it was glorious.

In the next week, I'll be headed down for another meeting, trading and even a homemade pizza with a large green salad.

February feels like it never came and yet is almost gone. I am busy shoveling snow from roof tops, sliding off in to the snow below and keeping tabs on the fox. Now that the trail is clear to the lower lake, I think I may do a little exploring and see what else is out there.  I have about five weeks left out here and will be departing on the first of April which is the six month mark. I have my days of envy for all who are out enjoying the comforts of modern life, but consider my life out here to be much more civilized. I already feel that my time has gone by too quickly, but if you had asked me how I felt back in November, I'd have said something to the effect of how much longer I had to go. Now, it is going so quickly that I'm trying to grasp every moment, each little joy and savor it to the best I know how. I may feel different next year when and if this opportunity presents itself again. Partly I wish to duplicate my experience and enhance it by knowing what to expect and how to deal with it. I also feel like my repeating of this would deprive someone else of truly a once in a lifetime experience. When the time comes, we'll see what happens but no matter what, through the thick of this past winter and the thin of the new year, I will never have traded this experience and personal growth for any other offer. No regrets.

Northern Nights

Woodcutting at its finest hour, the last one. I felt at this moment that Paul Bunyan had nothing on me, except his blue ox. A good month and a half out in the woods, mostly dreading having to freeze on the ride out, the search for trees in a feasible location for cutting but more importantly extracting. Dreading the magnitude of how much I was supposed to collect, not knowing how far I had come or how far I had to go.

Daily routines never cease to be adventures in some form or fashion. A ride through the forest to a meadow might kick up a few grazing moose. Along the trail just past the far eastern cabin would be a pair of eagles that would watch as I passed by. Often there were days I would be distracted and follow the tracks of a fox or hare, sometimes both. I had my spills on the ice, the crashes of my snow mobile and plenty of times it became lodged in between trees and bushes, sinking further down as I tried to free it. Many days I decided that my time could be better spent by the fire indoors, and prolonging the task seemed justified by whatever excuses I conjured up.

But now, the much anticipated end of mandatory woodcutting is over, and I rest. I know that I may go out a few more times, out of boredom or perhaps for fun. There are trees abound that call to be cut, and with every massive tree I see, the vision of how it would crash down cannot escape my thoughts. I have always been good at creating a mess, but never cared much for cleaning it up. Some trees have blown over in our great wind storms, and others that grew leaning heavily by some misfortune in their youth, beg to fall.

There are patches in the forest that are bare, and others that choke out light by density. I should like to think that I opened up a very small portion of these areas, allowing for new growth and perhaps those trees will be undisturbed for another hundred years or more.

Every action here is more than what it seems. Every thought has an impression that can freely traverse the mind to warp or enhance beliefs and opinions. Actions such as woodcutting bring out so much feeling deep within. I could only hope that all my thoughts when I leave this place, can be filled with the spirit and life they have now. Hope that my actions spring forth feelings that I now know they have the potential for.

One night a while back I wrote this from what I saw, and what I had seen in past times.

Northern Nights- 

Like pedals of a pond Lily, silky smooth and with a pureness of white, so is the snow that layers the forest, covering a multitude of barren colors.

Grey's and greens, browns of many shades are wrapped with this holy white.

The old diseased trees, rotted and forgotten with time, are strewn over the land and blanketed for a season, laying to rest their soreness in sight.

Young saplings are hidden away for nature to slowly unravel with the melting of a Spring sun.

A thousand stars shine bright, and a thousand times that many dust over the darkness of space, glistening off the waters, mirroring the relaxed gilded sword upon Orion's belt. He heroically shines his light, illuminating the fields of snow that blanket mountains from base to summit and challenging darkness to conceal his glory.

The mighty heavens with guarding constellations and stars that hang in the midst, circle Polaris, taking refuge in the West as the remaining flee from the all consuming sun rising in the East.

To be seen by the rays of its light, means the demise of their visual splendor.

As silent and dark as six feet under, nailed in a coffin, the black and motionless wilds of Alaska project strongly the feeling of brutal and unforgiving ways in this treacherous frozen land.

Flickering of planets and of the brightest stars imitate a gentle breeze that ripples the waters surface, distorting the clarity of the object yet leaving a small amount to the imagination.

A late invitation is the presence of a nocturnal glow, as the moon beams reflect off each facet of crystallized ice, creating lanterns that fill the air with our own twinkling of lights.

And to the passing of night, the treeline silhouette graphs a continual spiked rhythm on the dawns horizon, and the sun defeats all.

As for the peaceful world that remains hidden beneath the slumber of winter's wool coat, it awaits to blossom vibrant colors of life once lost. In a hurry to live and in a hurry to die, this land is preparing for another arctic wonderland.

Bitter Sweet

Days have opened up, lasting much longer and feeling a touch more realistic than twenty hours of dark. The clouds have cooperated with the setting sun day after day, clearing up at the right moment to show a small bit of color in my isolated world. There are times like these, when the evening falls, that where I am fades away from thought, the temperature is no longer a factor and for that moment there is no where else that I would like to be.

Snow is... enjoyable and dreadful. In the last two weeks, there have been approximately four feet of new snow and all powder. In the middle, there was a break in temperature that rose to about thirty three and snow showers became rain showers lasting a couple days. This morning was back at ten below and a nice crunch with each footstep. The volume of snow makes gathering wood harder in every aspect. Falling trees quickly vanish once on the ground and digging them back out is more work than its worth.

I do find myself sometimes shouting, other times a mumble under my breath the word "timber" as each tree crashes down. Slowly cracking and splitting at the trunk, these massive trees gain momentum as the destroy carelessly other tree's limbs, glancing off smaller trees or sometimes buckling them in half before the bushes below become as flat as a french pancake.

Fifteen more trees did fall at the mercy of my saw. Some twenty plus inches diameter at the base. I had a moment to cut a slice off of one, to count the rings and see how old it was. In the very center, the rings are too hard to see, so the estimation is between 145 and 155 years old. It would seem that about a hundred years before Alaska even became a state, this tree was just springing forth from the ground. Through the civil war, through the presidency and the death in 1885 of Ulysses S. Grant.... the first airplane by the Wright brothers, NASA and the moon landing.... war after war, my birth and up until the end just a few days ago, this tree lived a peaceful life. Just another angle to see from when woodcutting.

A while back, a month or two maybe I was sitting around bored and decided to carve a ring from a caribou antler that I pulled out of the forest. Passing the time away can be hard to do sometimes, when there isn't much around to work with. It always seems that men of old, be it in the woods or at sea, possessed the trait of carving, sculpting or other small artworks... so with my time at hand, I too thought of something.
The holes are representing stars in the constellations Leo and then the Big Dipper and Polaris.

There are two Eagles that watch from a perch along my trail for gathering wood. It seems that my passing by has no effect, but when I stop, they seem to mind. They too are looking for food, maybe setting their sights on a rather plump fox they've seen around. Mr. Fox still gets his daily fish sandwiches when he shows up, and now he knows that there is a bottom piece of bread so he takes the whole sandwich.... I like that.

Another moose encounter on the snow mobile.... running fast!

I've cracked open the last five pounds of my crab meat. Bread and water after this is gone.

                                                         Scenery

Hard believing that February is here, and soon the spring will unravel with the melting away of packed ice on the lake, mountains of snow and new life will emerge. I've seen the summer months and how wonderful they are. Now living up here for the winter months, they too are wonderful in their own way. Some said November would be the hardest, others thought January but I can't say until I've seen them all. I can most certainly pick out the highlights and low points of each month so far, but there is more to come so I will wait and see. I will miss the summer up here, when the bears come to feed on the salmon and the days are never dark. I will not miss the unrelenting mosquito's and gnats.

As I ponder things during the day, one of my biggest questions is how bad will I miss being up here when I'm gone. I have stopped thinking about other places mostly, trying not to give too much effort into the thought of a tropical setting, because I know once I'm there, I will wish I was back up here. No, for now the days are enjoyed, sunshine or grey, the feeling of the downward slope is upon me.

Bitter sweet.