* Merry Christmas *

A particular comfort it is, sitting by the fire while the sun retires and night presses forth. At three in the afternoon, I sit by these glowing coals and stare at my furry fox friends who bare the temperatures with ease. Not a shiver or sign of chill have they shown despite being thirty below. Just the day before, out in what seemed the worst and minus twenty, I just needed to take advantage of the blue skies while they lasted. I am continually grooming the trails to the lower lake and only about half way through the woods. Constant defeat and agonizing labor to free the snow machine from holes it sinks into, getting stuck in powder and near cemented in, buried to the handles. I build ramps in front and dig away near the back to rock it free, and to my efforts, twenty feet further I find myself digging yet again. I do enjoy the mere fact of having something to do and although it is hard work, I can't shy away from it. After all, on the other side of these woods there is a village and a town with a grocery store should I choose to satisfy my most recent cravings.

Some days when the air is still, the trees covered in frost and not a noise is made in all the forest, I just sit watching and listening to absolutely nothing at all. On these especially cold days, there are many situations that can arise from nowhere and be quite surprising and consequential. Luckily I found out in time to spare a digit, but not without a stern warning. Frostbite. I understand why it is not called frost touch. Fortunately, I was done with chores outside and came in for the day, not realizing the condition of my fingers and it wasn't until the next day that I really knew the severity of the bite. Numb to the touch but throbbing inside. I have obtained just slight bite on the ears and fingers, and will be much more observant and tuned in to such pains from here on out.

My fox friend knew a good thing when he saw it and was reluctant to welcome another of his kind. What filled one mouth is now shared among two. Should a third venture this way, I may just cut them off cold turkey. I do have a soft spot for them. Curious, energetic and full of fight. They go at it and snarl, yelp and bark, attack each other, chasing and tackling and biting.... but they are both rewarded the same. I did manage a trout for the original one, the day before his companion showed up. Should they have had to fight for it, that would have been too much. They often sit outside my door in the day, come running in the waking hours of morning and come from who knows where in the night when closing the door. Each and every time I make a noise outside the cabin, they look with anticipation and often discontent when I close the door empty handed. Never failing, they are around in hopes of food.

How quickly the snow accumulates, two feet here and a foot there....  I do enjoy most things about a good hard snow fall and I can even enjoy the removal for a time, but those tiny snowflakes sure do become heavy and burdensome after too many hours. Who might have thought the soreness and aching in the muscles would be a result from the lightly falling crystals from above. Anyone who has held a shovel in hand would testify to their weight and not so innocent being. Yes they look harmless but that is simply not true. Another ten inches I woke to this very morning, and riding the trails again to maintain their existence and not make my previous labor in vain. When the wind whips across the snow fields, down from the mountain sides or across the lake, the trails in the open vanish in minutes. Constant packing and riding them will create a disruption to the aerodynamic flows, thus making faint distinctions between untouched powder traps and my trustworthy packed trail. When you spend as much time removing the snow as I do, you will understand the obsession with maintenance.

My frosty days are more frequent and the bitter cold more present as we near the beginning of official winter. Weeks pass like days and the only sign of time are tracks of myself and the animals around that tell the travels and business we have in this land. I judge a day by energy consumed and observe the quality by the amount of relaxation. Even work is relaxing in some instances. Bringing wood down for methodical stacking is quite cleansing to the mind and running the snow blower to push large amounts winter aside is pleasing to the body for the pain it defers. Even the tediousness of making kindling is pleasurable both for the honing of accuracy and for the product of the evening fire. I did miss one day and while perhaps too relaxed, I was slow to react. Nothing a bandage would not fix. All of these little wounds, misfortunes of falling in the river and slipping on ice add to the story of life up in the more wild parts of America.  I am careful, but even when crossing the t's and dotting i's, one can forget a period or two. I like to live my days with an exclamation mark.


Christmas is only one week away and soon January will be here. I know at the end of that month will be half way through and much to my amazement, I don't know where those days have gone. I have lived each one, some more painful than others but I do wonder how this has gone by so quickly. I do believe that the whole month of October was an adjustment time, not knowing just how to prepare mentally for the upcoming months. November was settling in nicely and was over before it began really and now December is snow and soon Christmas. Maybe the new year will bring new feelings of time and it will seem more drawn out. As the months are now, I agonize over the loss of each moment that mimics and resembles the next. Losing those moments and subsequently time from a lack of differentiating between the two. Likewise for days and weeks, painfully savoring but a memory from what could have held a dozen. It is safe to say each day that presents a new task or chore or irregularity is often welcomed, cherished to some degree and is the only variety or spice in my life. Those little things that switch up routine make all the difference in my world.

Christmas for everyone down south, I wish you all a very merry season with each other, a great time to be among those you care for and celebrate in true form the reason for this holiday. For all who endure the lines, in grocery stores and gas stations, I hope there is plenty of patience and tranquility to go around. I will celebrate with a nice dinner for myself and prepare something tasty for my fox friends. I think of you all often,

Questions

 

 

 

 

The meaning of adventure to one person can be vastly different to another. I have heard it said, adventure is when things go wrong but until then, it is your plan.
Here in the twenty first century, I live close to a hundred years ago. Limited energy sources, no running water and I'm dependent on the respect given to nature. If you love something, you take care of it. I do love nature, but the idea of nature is something we have created. People for centuries lived in desolate places on earth, remote, self sustaining, and it wasn't that long ago when people were living as I presently find myself. That was their life. Nature to them was the unknown, the great Louisiana territory of the 1800's, the America's in the late 1400's. In today's world, people have closed themselves off to their roots in the earth's soil, they trade simplicity for complexity. Many people haven't the slightest ideas on how to provide for themselves, or steward the resources of their land which can provide. Concrete prisons are created in high rise fashion surrounded by thousands of others who think nature is walking in the park and sitting on the lawn for a picnic. That was a luxury for most back then, not nature today.
People couldn't conceive preserving wild forest lands and "nature", their very lives were lived there and so what exactly were they to preserve? Life?

The northern lands of this world must be relatively the same, differing in mountain ranges and water systems, but equally beautiful as to where I sit. One could say I was in Norway or Sweden, Newfoundland or Alaska, and I wouldn't know it. There are no mapped out boundary lines or degrees of latitude that define the earth's beauty. When you are on an adventure, a life altering experience, questions arise that wouldn't have come any other way. Questions you didn't even know you had, and some that you didn't know existed. Often there are more questions than answers, but when an answer hits you, it's that light bulb moment. Everything of concern is erased, all the random wheels stop turning. There is often an empty feeling, as if the only thing in your mind was the question and now the answer. It is overwhelming. Why must they be so personal though? Often the epiphany isn't understood, shared or conceived by others, and it isn't like you have just solved one of the world's dilemma's but instead there is only personal growth in that understanding.
I believe when someone has their heart set on something, change only comes within. The outward appearance can vary in direction, manipulate the minds of others and be a great deception but what lies within oneself, is the only true north. To that, they will live and breathe for. If you love something you take care of it.
So the passion that drives someone, the loves they have and the desire to care for them, is that not what we are to pursue? Who makes the call on what is a worthy passion and love and to whom does it belong? Are we of the mindset "individualism" in life or is there a relationship to community? To each their own? Probably not.
What might the world become if everyone examined and explored themselves through solitude, or is that idea flawed as well?

The winds are relentlessly testing the structural integrity of my cabin, and the trust I have in the builder is with my life.  I try to sleep through the great howling noise and violent shaking of the supposed solid walls. Each morning I awake one more time, not knowing how close I came to a tree coming down on the roof or if the cabin was lifted from the foundation. That is probably a good stretch to say, however there is much unknown when I sleep so long.
I received a call about weather rolling in. A warning as it were, the recommendation to be prepared for a severe weather front. The only good thing about the change is the warmth. Going from fifteen below to twenty above is most welcome and even if snow accumulates to feet, I'll have fun with it.

The ice picture above was just amazing to see. Cracks on the frozen lake bend and twist to create these colorful patterns and mesmerizing images, if you stare at them too long.
Should I be lucky enough for new snow, two feet or more, I'll be out grooming trails and shoveling to no end. I do miss the sights of a proper winter and blustering, snowy days. The warmth of my cabin and the window I stare out of is all the comfort I need but there isn't any sense in settling there, so warm cookies and tea lighten the mood even more. I wish I could give thirty minutes to every soul that wanted it this very moment.

With Christmas around the corner, time does fly by when you're having fun. Hard times do present themselves, challenging and perplexing as they can be, putting your left foot in front of the right usually overcomes any obstacle. I took my boat out of the river for the time being. There was too much effort in the upkeep, so it sits on land waiting for better conditions.

Fishing, oh that wonderful and frustrating past time. I continue to bring in the large rainbows but unfortunately I am wanting char to feed the fox. Not a hint of complaint in there, only fact.

House Cat

Twelve mice, shrews as they are known here have met the bitter end in nearly two months. Although traps continue to be active, an additional pair of night eyes with an appetite are the so called big guns that I have in reserve. My little buddy came in for a quick visit today, coerced by salami at first and then by curiosity and probably the odd sensation of warmth. Luxurious as it seemed to walk upon ground not frozen, to smell the wonders of food and in abundance that doesn't run and needs not catching, I couldn't allow him to stay too long and  become domestic. He has learned the time of day when I start cooking. He comes running and with those eyes, who could not resist sharing an easy meal. Salami is a good tasting, fattening protein that he seems to enjoy immensely, and I even spruced it up by heating it for some extra flavor on Thanksgiving. Luckiest fox in all of Alaska.

A thankful day I had. Thankful for beautiful weeks of endless blue sky and sunshine, for health and wellness in this frozen land and for my little furry friend who is more trusting than ever. This is the second Thanksgiving I've had up here, and another decent meal for the annual tradition. I didn't have Turkey, but chicken curry soup was more delicious on the cold day. Stuffing was baked, but obviously it wasn't ever stuffed, so it was just a bread casserole. To top off the evening was the classic pumpkin pie. Now I've often had many mouth watering cravings for Costco pumpkin pie, and although mine wasn't that, it was a very respectable comparison and a worthy rival.

    

Baking has also been a little reward for the survival of cold, quiet and often uneventful days. I started out with banana bread and used the recipe that I had two years ago. Somehow, I recall it being so much better and more moist. It would hardly last four days and a whole loaf was gone. I have healthy portions of the good things and over indulge on the really great things. Well, this bread wasn't as spectacular but it was edible and I managed just fine. Not feeling satisfied with just okay bread, I made a recipe of decent chocolate chip cookies and added walnuts, under baked them and made them thicker. I truly enjoy making each one of them just how I would love all cookies to be. No one would say, leave out the nuts, flatten them, make them smaller, they're not done..... instead, my mind was saying go bigger, more walnuts, go ahead and let them be what you want.
So on this pursuit to quench a thirst of sweetness, I melted down a large portion of dark chocolate and spread hazelnuts over a cookie sheet and bound them together with the most delicious smelling, pleasing to the eye, pure chocolate that ever saw this side of Bristol Bay. It tastes good.

Lately, cold and clear days give way to even colder nights with crisp moon light and negative temperatures. When the moon sets, and yes I am often up at all hours of the night, it gives way to the amazing star filled skies. I sit for some time watching through binoculars and see every twinkling. I have been partial to the sword in Orion's belt for it's galaxy like existence that makes the sword so bright. I do love these sleepless nights.
 River Bay is freezing across nicely and growing thicker by the minute. Large sheets of ice are coming down river, sometimes crashing into the shore and sometimes floating by as stealth and silent as they were formed. Wind gusts change the tune some days. Wind so violent that they blur the Internet and phone signals, shaking trees and tossing water many feet up the river bank. Below zero wind chill allows for remarkably quick building of ice formations, ice shelves and barriers. My boat is encompassed daily with ice up to twelve inches thick and in some parts of the shore over thirty feet in width. Water is one of the most powerful, natural commodities there is. Whether it's waves in the ocean or icebergs at the far ends of the earth, water in a liquid or solid state is quite impressive. Over time it washes away stone and forms caverns, and quickly it transforms to deadly, sharp ice that can tear through the metal hull of a ship. I dig and pry, hammer and heat to try freeing the craft from a death hold of some hydrogen and oxygen bonded together.
After a week of relentless freezing and attempts to dislodge the boat, I decided to move her off the ice and now she sits afloat a few yards from the bank. Sheets of newly formed frozen slush that couldn't cling to any one side of the river, discarded and rejected by the source, they are drifting on down, broken and battered by the rapids below never amounting to anything.

One of the worst things happened the other evening. It's four degrees, breezy and the sun is setting. I had been in all day and staying quite busy, had a fire going and was quickly roasting out. I slimmed down to shorts and my shoes, no shirt or hat. I had to go fetch water, which was just fine and even intended for a cool off but when I came back to the cabin, the latch on the door had somehow twisted out of place and locked permanently. No knife or lighter, no tools of any kind were in my shorts and at first, I thought I would just knock on the door as if someone would answer. There isn't anything to read into that notion of a companion, but I never had thought someone was with me before this moment, no matter how over stacked the wood I was carrying in, or the trouble I find myself in when getting the snow machine stuck. I don't know what I was thinking, but I guess I wasn't thinking. I grabbed a file and punctured a hole in the plexiglass to unlatch the handle and enter. I often think of scenarios when and if I fall in the water or through the ice. Never does that end well and I don't know how long you can function before the elements really take over, hypothermia and all. Not long. Standing outside perfectly dry and feeling the the piercing breeze through tender skin is how the thought came about.
Duct tape is the new addition to my front door, a small hole and a comical moment will forever mark this little cabin. And I am most definitely alone.

There are Christmas songs playing on the radio, having started just after the last forks from Thanksgiving dinners were washed and the promotion of shopping was overwhelming in my inbox. Emails for saving hundreds, by spending hundreds on things I don't need or have a want for. Up here I really don't want for much. I really don't need anything I don't have and most things I think of people buying are non essential for sustaining life. They may be fun, but that hardly impresses upon me the need to spend what I don't have.
I must conclude that " Black Friday" is indeed very dark.

     December is nearly here. A time when people expect and desire winter white to blanket the ground. It softens the calm life I live, dampens what little noise there is and purifies the land by hiding all deformities, traces of mankind and wipes the slate clean for a time. Not a shrew nor moose goes undetected in the meadows, not a falling cranberry or pine needle is without guilt in disturbing the pureness of white. I really enjoy new snow. I would hope for some soon, as I've done quite the job in ruining what is around. I could use a clean slate and a fresh start.

Little Pasture

Walking along the frozen banks of Lake Nerka and River Bay, was filled with nervous anticipation. A Spruce Grouse flies off in a panic just several feet away and makes every hair on the back of my neck stand up. It's time for the bears of Tikchik State Park to ascend into the mountains and start a very long hibernation, and also make any last minute kills, trying to suppress an insatiable appetite. I however, am by no means willing to be such an offering, so being alert and easily startled is acceptable, where as screaming like a little girl and paralyzed by fear is not.
Luckily on this small hike there were no bears or moose or fox or any other worth while animal to see except an occasional bird or two. I once was flying in Katmai National Park and upon our descent, we came right over a bear that had been grazing or doing something, but whatever it was he preferred peace over our presence. He started off in a full out sprint and I thought wow, a bear that weighs a thousand pounds running thirty miles an hour over rugged tundra. There isn't a chance I'd have if put in harms way. I've also seen first hand the power of ripping flesh from dead animals and the bone crushing jaws at work from these massive bears. I don't believe that my little legs jammed inside the bear's mouth would present any challenge and that I'd soon be another fallen victim to nature. Being out on this open plain really felt alarming, should any bear show itself and pursue me with intent. I was constantly looking at trees, the size of their limbs to hold my weight and whether or not I'd be able to get there. Jumping in the lake, should luck allow me to get there in time would only result in hypothermia and I'd wash ashore soon enough just to be picked up by the bear anyhow. So, as it would seem, the only option was to be loud with my yelling and trying to present it in the most menacing of ways. It sure is  silly to be out here doing all that, but it's a precaution and a safety measure.

I have yet to see one bear this year, and if I don't see one soon, I think my chances are near over for a sighting or encounter. That will be the first time in the last 5 years of not seeing one of these amazing animals up close. I won't be baiting any, but I'd like to have one come around, even if it's a little one that doesn't look too mean.

For six weeks, I've been without winter and finally we have snow. I opened my eyes and noticed a dull light, more reflective than direct and thought, has it snowed? No sooner did I look out the window but I saw almost six inches of fresh powder blown all around forming drifts and barren areas but none the less it was snow and mostly covering the landscape. A much welcomed change in scenery and a feeling that there is progress in being here, if not for something to do, but just for something different to look upon.
Today the snow would most likely accumulate quickly if the wind were to ever let it settle. Sideways as linear as it could possibly be, seemingly unaffected by gravity. That's just some strong wind, but it's snowing again and I like it. Hard to say how much there is, not but a few inches of fresh, a few spots of the old and a really great day to be inside drinking tea and writing about it.

     There are some really enjoyable moments up here to sit and think. One of which is the time when the power is off. I make some tea and sit in front of the fire with my book and after each chapter I sit there for sometimes hours just staring into the fire and getting lost in thought. There are times when the ideas I entertain are serious and need working out, others are for fun and imaginative. I like the latter more so because it's nice to envision being on some tropical island with fresh produce and an open sea to fish. The funny thing is that I'd sit on the beach for hours staring into the ocean or the horizon and dream of being next to a fire in a cabin with tea and a river to fish.
Some days I'll just go out and fish and the other day I did just that for my fox friend. I was hoping to get him a nice char for supper and so I did, but hours of calling for him, he never showed. I kept the fish in my net on the woodpile outside and later that evening when I was putting the generator in, I noticed that he had stolen his own fish. Maybe he only stole my enjoyment of giving it to him, but never the less he got his char and I suppose was pleased.

A really calm and sunny day allowed for a nice hike up the mountain. I wasn't sure how it would go with snow, but to my amazement I only slipped every other step instead of every single one.
It was worth the constant falling and sliding and two hours of realizing my out of shape heart needed this exercise. Once at the summit, I quickly put my sweater back on and gloves and bundled up. Snapped a few photos and headed back down. I am not one to look at a mountain and say, I'd like to climb that. I particularly like mountains with snow on them and that further deters my inclination to climb them.

The days pass and I keep myself busy enough with the small things like baking some banana bread or making kindling for fires. Occasionally if I get too rowdy, I'll practice throwing my knife at the wood stack. Soon there will be some shoveling and snow removal from areas around the lodge, so I might rest better at night with some good hard work during the day.

A Mink & Me

The tedious sport of stacking wood is an ongoing chore that will no doubt keep my hands busy from here on out. On the really windy days, it shakes my stack of wood to the point that it shifts and needs constant adjusting, or I risk a collapse.
Today was 38 inside, a new low for an internal cabin temperature but quite comfortable while sleeping. Rising to put on frozen clothing is entirely another ordeal. Boiling water cools in minutes, and the enjoyment of a cup of tea is about a five minute occasion. One of my furry friends came around to see me, the mink. Cute little guy and curious, but not nearly as domestic towards me as the last time I saw him. I also remember the ongoing battle between the fox and him, so perhaps I won't have the pleasure of a mink's company all that often.
Speaking of the fox, he has some of the most strange behavior patterns. He will come up behind me and often startle my nerves and then gets spooked off because he spooked me. I try to coax him back, or close to with some fish or what meat I have on hand, but always end up tossing it in his direction. He needs to stop sneaking up on me and causing such a stir, then I might gain his trust and be able to react without a suspicious, threatening jump.

The sunsets as of lately have been amazing! Pictures are so cruel to reality and the injustice is hardly tolerable. It makes taking a picture of such wonder hardly worth it in the end due to the frustration of not capturing the entire moment.
Never the less, the wind storms bring elongated cloud formations, stretching and pulling in ways that I've only seen up North. It may help to have the sun staying very low in the sky and really dragging the color over a much wider surface of sky. It might just be the way the sun chooses to set and I am grateful to see such beautiful sights.

What kind of day is it when the fish that are biting are too large to keep? I had a particularly good day of fishing this past week and to my surprise, many of the first ones caught were too large. A beautiful  trout, at twenty five inches and full of fight really had me on the edge of fear. The sun was plenty up, crossing over Jack Knife mountain and shining without any hindrance or obstruction. Perfect blue sky all around and absolutely freezing wind blasting my face. My fingers were very cold as well, but at least they were seeing some action from reeling in fish and snapping photos. As the tugging and running out of line persisted, the build up of ice on the rod eyelets was becoming a concern. I could feel the jerking motion of the line that was usually smooth as it was getting stuck on the tip of the rod. There were a few times where risking the loss of an uncertain sized, but large feeling fish were worth taking to plunge the rod into the water so as to melt the ice and hope that the lack of tension would not allow this fish being caught to free itself and conquer the fish catcher.
On the last ditch effort to run, the fish took what line he could, I reeled in what I could and the line froze to a near solid and problematic state. I did what was necessary and just walked backwards until I was standing nearly ten yards from the waters edge, dragging the fish up on shore and quickly running down to retrieve the size and photo.
Although catching large fish is fun, it is wasting precious time in the elements and I would rather get my small fish and get back inside to thaw out the frozen extremities.
     A few outings all together and I accumulated a nice mess of fish to fillet and smoke. The largest in the group was about 19 inches, a pair of them to be exact. They were caught back to back, two casts, two fish.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

November is here and one month down. Most days feel like weeks and weeks like months, so it's not much of a surprise that I feel like three or four months have passed. I often wonder what everyone else is doing to pass their days, keeping busy no doubt and it seems to fly by for most.... Not up here. I suppose the thought of yet another holiday season is a bit overwhelming to some and welcoming to others. I especially like the holiday season up here, not too many lines to wait in, grumpy people to argue with or screaming children I pretend not to hear. Oh the holiday spirit.

I for one will miss a few things, but none of those mentioned above. I'll continue to fish and build fires and have my tea, read and do my job of taking care of a cabin for one.

 

 

Frost & Fish

                                       Fishing has been catching!

I reluctantly got out of bed this morning to see my breath and 42 degrees. Outside was l8 so by contrast I was pretty warm. It's one of those very rare  mornings without a breeze, a calm flat water that is glassed over mirroring every tree branch and mountain side. A calm before the storm perhaps.
The past week has been beautiful and sunny with never ending blue sky and what I would soon be saying, warm. I know these days are not cold by how many bugs are flying about, trapped in my window and buzzing around my head as I fish.
Warm days are almost a dream, I know they will pass quickly and soon become sub zero days and anything over ten will be a reprieve.
    
      A nice fire is roaring and tea water is on the stove, my hat is down over the ears and I even have fingerless, wool gloves on writing this post. Today I woke to find heavy white frost weighing on the trees and grass, all over the cabin and my boat. The gravel along the river bank is even cemented down by how thick and consuming that frost was. It's not a pretty frost, with snowflake like design or extravagant formations of ice, but just heavy.
The other day, two moose were trotting along near the cabin, going up and down the river bank, behind the cabin and by the windows. Then down into the water and for a swim across to the other side. Both were mature adult females "cow" is the proper name and both looked quite healthy and large. Also in the wildlife department, a new fox is around, friendly yet uninterested. I call and he pays no attention, I throw food and he looks displeased. The other day I left a few fish carcasses for him and all he left me was bowel movement of content. Very rude.
I came quite close the other day with smoked trout in hand and he became uneasy at about six feet distance. I either move to suddenly or he is not keen on the idea of becoming a domestic pet.

Once again, mice/shrews are or were invading my cabin, foraging on crumbs from my over zealous appetite of crackers and cookies. I'm sure they would have been more satisfied had I left slightly better or larger quantities of food to pilfer. With a trusty bucket trap and peanut butter, along with the traditional back breaking trap, seven have been caught, tried, found guilty and executed in a very satisfying manner. I sleep better at night.

Smoking trout and salmon have been the best way to preserve the fish for snacking and freezing. When the hard winter months come and most of the fish have gone away or do not have firm meat, these fillets and pieces will tide me through until the spring. The brine they marinate in is one part salt and three parts brown sugar. Usually a full day in the brine produces a nice tasting and good consistency flesh without becoming tough or dry. I seem to be pleased and haven't heard any complaints from the fox either.

      Having the open forest and wilderness at your fingertips is not nearly as overwhelming as it may seem. I know the geographical location, even the pinpoint GPS coordinates of where my cabin is. I know the 1.2 million acres around me in a rough layout but none of that increases the feeling of day to day life. The isolation doesn't extend past a few mountains across the river, a lake to the right and left of our lodge and the mountain behind us. I have relatively limited vision of my surroundings and therefore don't have a care in the world beyond what I can see.
It may as well be the whole world, uninhabited or a small island, which one could argue that it is. An island is usually thought of as surrounded by water, but I feel that the word and term "island" is only a feeling, a sense of being isolated by distance or by civilization, not a physical place.
My location is on a peninsula to be exact, and I wouldn't know that if not for exploring and maps.  Daily life and routine consists of an island feel without the fever. I spend more time examining the land opposite my cabin, separated by rippled waters from migrating ducks or a feeding fish.
Moose seem to prefer that side of the water, the otters do as well and so did the wolverine and bear. On this side of isolation, myself and a fox who is here merely because he doesn't swim.
Out here, life is very large in regards to quality and quantity, very small when it comes to perspective and very normal sized once I've settled in. Adjusting to the change of pace takes a few weeks. One can not simply slow down to the speed of life out here overnight. It takes a bit of knowing yourself, a bit of restraint and a whole lot of to do's in order to avoid destructive boredom. It's been three weeks and I feel that the adjustment is almost there. No rushing about to and from, no places to be or people to see. There is life to live and not much more.
Head games are a big struggle, mind over body. There are days with extreme energy and enthusiasm and days where you stare at the wall. This year books have been added to the mix and what an interesting experience that is. To say I don't read much is understating that fact. I like what I'm reading and maybe that's all it takes, a likable subject, good words mixed with a tolerable page count and a few pictures here and there to keep a wandering imagination on track.

The fire is burning down, and time to add another log or two. Cold weather is predicted and by all signs looks accurate. Dinner for two this evening, though I am just one.

Fooled twice, Shame on me...

There is that saying, the one about being fooled twice and the shame is on yourself, oh so true!

     Two years have passed since watching that plane take off from Lake Nerka, not to return for quite some time. Two whole years and I can't shake the feeling that I have ever left. Sights and sounds, smells and familiar weather patterns make this lodge feel so familiar, home like and alone. Many times in the winter of 2010-11' I swore up and down that care taking was an amazing experience only to be done one time in this life, and had someone told me that I would find myself in the same position two years later, I just might have shot them.
It's a funny thing to have felt so strongly one moment and felt so opposite the next. When I found out that the caretaker position was not open last winter, I seemed to want it more than ever. Now I am back in my little cabin by the river, bugs swarming, fish jumping and the quiet woods of the north preparing for a  blanket of silent winter white.

     Yes, Alaska has a tight grasp on my soul once again and has me for another seven and half months. I have been here for a week now, preparing my cabin for the snow and temperature extremes that are coming quickly. I have built my shower enclosure, a smoker for the trout I hope to catch soon, brought down firewood, filled gas cans, gathered generators and tools. Having done this before, there was a system that seemed to work best and instead of figuring it out over the months, what ways worked best to collect water and utilize the wood stove's heat for instance, I can set up camp with many lessons previously learned and settle in with comfort and ease.

Today was "The" day, when that plane picked up the remainder of the staff and flew off into reality and all the good and bad that goes with it. They were very excited to leave after a long summer season, excited to see friends and family, to have choices on meals and variety, and probably just excited to be in their own home. That excitement extended to me and I was just as happy to send them off and feel the sweetest moment, quiet possibly of this entire adventure.
Today was the first shower outside at forty-five degrees, bugs swarming and the all too familiar run back inside to warm up and dry off. It was the first day of boiling my drinking water and cooking on the wood stove which was leftover beef fajita/black bean soup. Although the portion could have fed four easily, I ate it all over two and a half hours for the calorie sake of keeping warm.

    

Tomorrow morning, when I wake up without an alarm and before the sunrise, I will probably make a nice cup of tea, watch the sun try to cut through thick clouds and rise over the mountains that one day soon, will hide the light and warmth for over twenty hours each day. I'll grab my fishing gear and head out for a hopeful catching sort of day and begin a brine for smoking them later on. I have a few more supplies to gather from the kitchen, the essentials like plates and bowls, pots and pans and possibly any dry food items that remain in the pantry.
I may try my hand at the bow and arrow for spruce grouse, which are quite possibly the easiest bird to hunt. I used a .22 last time up here, and it was productive, to say the least. I'll have a bit more sport with a bow and feel just one more step closer to the primitive state in which I aim for.