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.