My cabin walls are the only barrier between sub zero winds and the ambient forty eight degrees I wake up to. The silent hum of the wind turbines accelerating and braking with each gust can be compared to a soothing light drizzle on a tin roof. Although these walls are the first line of defense, they are only moderately effective as a slight breeze can be felt on every door jam, window sill, corner, crack and visible crevice.
The nights have been alive most of this month, with howling winds and swaying shadows produced by a full moon. But in the last week, with heavy cloud cover and the absence of a moon, have made nights much darker than before. Black and never ending is my expectation and feeling of every dusk than begins a new night. Unrelated in scenery but comparable in description of a black abyss, is the color of water after washing my pants for the first time in almost four months. It was.... nice to have clean pants.
Snow fields on high mountain sides, snow fields in the tundra below. Through the forest and covering the alders, being whipped across the ice capped lake and piling up random drifts in the most unpredictable variations of size and shape.
I would dare say that looking outside, facing the wind, no one could open their eyes enough to see where they might walk. The snow is not falling, it is not going in any sort of a downward movement than can be seen, it only is going sideways and occasionally at an upwards angle. It is blinding and relentless as if someone has thrown you into the snow for a traditional white washing, white is all that can be seen.
Between the blackest of nights and the whitest of days, my world of color is confined to a two room cabin that I have hardly left in the last week. The visions of what I would do if I were up here, all the grand romanticized emotions and actions are now quite tamed after almost four months of solitary life.
I am learning about myself, about others in my life and yet others whom I do not know. I have found it much easier to tolerate people when I am not around them, among other conclusions about my own life and choices made. There have been many good days up here, but there have also been the challenges of my own mind, my own obstacles to overcome that offer plenty of days that are not so good.
This learning experience has been a daily challenge. There have been few physical difficulties to overcome, leaving the majority of issues to a mental struggle. I know that lessons I learn subconsciously will prove their worth in later times of angst. I am certain that the time up here will be not spent how I had envisioned, but rather in a much slower, less glorified manner with a strong emphasis on endurance.
The truth of the matter is, I cannot fish every day, I cannot fight off a Grizzly with my bare hands. I cannot hunt and trap to sustain my needs of survival. I cannot fashion a rocking chair using only my Leatherman or pretend to be some twenty first century Jeremiah Johnson for a winter. I have lost most ideas of why I came up here, why I thought this was such an incredible thing and why I felt so compelled to leave most all sense of civilization behind.
I figured what I would get out of this experience would be far different, far more worldly and far less demanding.
There is nothing I can think of better than this moment of realization. Realizing that although the constraints of living alone in the wilderness are exciting and adventuresome, they are also depriving.
Realizing that what it takes to survive is more than merely food, shelter and water.
Realizing that when you think that you are a strong and independent person, you find the cracks and holes where the breeze comes through and weaknesses are revealed.
My meal preparation and presentation has diminished rapidly and it would seem that I might be priding myself on creating the most unappetizing, unappealing foods just for the sake of consuming food.
This is a sad day for myself to admit that, a lack of passion for cuisine and presentation.
Goulash... that is what I have been eating. A random stew/mixture of the most horrid combinations.
Example: one can of kidney beans, one can of yellow hominy and crab cakes made into a scramble/hash sort of "goulash"
OR... a thirteen bean soup mixture with sole fillets mashed in, once plain, once with adding crab, once with adding chicken and every time using at least a half a bottle of hot sauce.
Goulash is what I'm making, it doesn't smell great, doesn't look great, but tastes.... better than bad.
Here are some pictures of my food supply, drink supply, a completely unorganized freezer and my little stove.
