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.
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