Black & White

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.

Zzz PLANE! Zzz PLANE!

This looks like the perfect start to a perfect day... fishing, alone in the wilderness and not so much as a breath of wind to be seen or felt. The day actually turned ugly rather quickly after the sun fully came up, only to disappear again. I was unable to fish that day, but have since been out in the boat on the far side of the river, trying to raise interest and a bite from the depths below.
Twisting and turning, flashing the silvery white tones of the belly was a trout more beautiful than my words can describe. The red stripe down the side was that of  the wild cranberries, the green like the darkened winter needles of a spruce and the length, well it was short enough to measure with a yard stick but just barely.  His head was large, over grown, showing what potential is there in growth and looking like he will make an angler or two quite upset about loosing their fly to a "monster", ever growing in size each time the story is told. The eyes were golden like the aspen leaves after the first frost with a perfectly black pupil, making a fish eye quite attractive and unique.
Everything about this fish was magnificent, challenging and special. I was pleased to pull him alongside my boat, and scoop down with the net, unhook and for a moment, I forgot that my fingers were frozen, the icicles hanging from my hair and even the fact that my left boot was full of water.

The best part about this fight, was the family of five otters that came floating down, seeing the splashing and the hearing the song my reel played as the give and take game wore on. Their heads bobbed just above the surface right past my boat, leaving my fish alone and allowing for the catch, and then a release. It was a great time to forget my camera, although with the earlier plunge in the water, it might not have survived.

Most recently, my expeditions have been bundled up tightly to go crashing the the forest, disturbing the silence that extends for hours. Woodcutting is part of my job, and collecting a hopeful eight cords is what I am aiming for. This is the start, and although it doesn't look like much, it feels like it.

I do enjoy the falling of trees, the attempt to perfect the wedge cut, directing where the tree falls, not too far to the right or left, not snagging in trees or worst of all, only partly falling over. I have been about 80% accurate so far, one went the wrong way, pinching the saw, one fell over about 3/4 of the way, and I think that's about it.

I cut them into sections, ranging from four to five feet or so, large enough to make work easier, but small enough to handle with snowshoes and many layers of clothing. The journey from the cutting site to the drop off at the lodge is about a half mile, maybe a fraction more, but its not that bad. There are plenty of chances to take in that short distance, crossing several creeks that have thin coverings of ice, slopes that pull the sled towards the lake and often completely turning it around, and other obstacles like rocks and ditches, alder bushes and the occasional instance of a missing driver.... yes that is me, sprawled out on the ice with all my gas, oil, chainsaw and accessories, while my sled is in the other direction, on its side.

I keep a backpack on, containing a satellite phone, sleeping bag, flashlight, and a few other good ideas.

Now for the good stuff :

I was not doing anything in particular yesterday afternoon, when the familiar yet forgotten noise of a single engine plane came rumbling in from over the distant mountains. Making two or maybe three passes, naturally my hermit style instincts were to stay inside my shell. So to the window I went with binoculars hard pressed to my eyes, searching the skies for any information, any recognition of who might be paying a visit.

Up the lake corridor it headed, only to circle around and come back, flying lower than safely desired had I been aboard. It came at me. Passing the ice cap and now into the blue water, an unknown object came flying out or falling off of the plane, smashing down into the wind swept water. SPLASH! and a loud fly by overhead, and off the plane went. I kept my eyes peeled, searching back and forth trying to pinpoint the area, using the help of a few birds that briefly went in to investigate. I put on my boots, coat, gloves and raced out the door with my binoculars, heading towards the area, doing my best to dodge apartment size sheets of thick ice floating down stream.

The wind was not suitable for boating, much less a search and recovery of an unknown object just hurled from a plane. I searched until my fingers were numb, my eyes watering from the wind and dizzy from the waves and constant change from binocular to bare eyes.

No recovery was made, no object was seen floating, and just when I thought things were settling in up here, the sky starts falling.

~ Heat Wave ~

Most people, including myself usually describe special circumstances or situations that need a reference point with dramatic exaggerations of the truth. Today my descriptions of the weather and other events are extreme and wild enough that exaggerating in any fashion is almost impossible.

Its New Years day, (Happy New Year to all) and it began last night with the warming climate from the negative double digits to a startling twenty above and snow falling in more of a ice dust than flake. As the Night wore on, the temperature progressively warmed to produce flakes the size of quarters but only for a moment before the wind started. Between a very poor choice of movie to start and finish, there were drifts of twelve inches of new snow and by morning there would be over thirty inch drifts.

Restless was at best how my night was, trembling and shaking violently, the cabin was feeling like it had eaten a bit of bad Chinese food. The wind was gale force, and by definition:

A gale is a very strong wind. There are conflicting definitions of how strong. The U.S. government's National Weather Service defines a gale as 34–47 knots (63–87 km/h, 17.5–24.2 m/s or 39–54 miles/hour) of sustained surface winds.^[1] Forecasters typically issue gale warnings when winds of this strength are expected.

I first awoke to the leaking of the window seal above my head, drip,drip,drip,drip..... between three and four drops per second, it was no time to put the pillow over my head and ignore the potential flooding situation.
drip,drip,drip,drip.... at the foot of my bed, in the wood stove room over my work bench.... it was a ship that had been tossed in the rocks or more likely for me, hit an iceberg and started taking on water.

Trees bent in half, but only in one direction as these gusts came to try and take me away. I thought a time or two that whoever had built the cabin must have secured it down to the foundation quite well and for that I am thankful. If I had my bed sheets fashioned to my chair, paragliding would have been an event to remember.
My boat had been tossed and beaten against the ice and rocks, sending it down river the length of my anchor rope which was tight enough to now practice slacklining.
Waves pounded the bank, washing up rocks and debris, making it impossible to find clean water for drinking. Windows shaking and vibrating, massive sheets (tonnage) of snow scaling the roof and smashing the ground below. The cabin has been anything but quiet.

The good news? Its a heat wave of  41 degrees !!!! the snow is slush, the ice is water, and everything is a sore sight to see.
I have been asked two questions consistently and numerous times, the first being have I seen the movie called The Shining and the second is do I ever get warm? Well I can say yes to the first and no to the second, however I have been comfortable in the sauna, truly warm from head to toe....no.
This warm spell might change things, but it won't last for long...
 Prior to the tremendous display of mother natures huffing and puffing to blow my home over.....

The fox who answers to  nothing but whistles and smooching noises.... has been quite happy with my feeding him in exchange for a quick picture or few.

I am also pleased to say that my oar has been replaced and I was able to get back on the water for some fishing. Doing so from the bank was fruitless and actually more painful than anything. I have fell flat on my face a dozen times trying to walk over the ice, climbing up the slippery slopes and causing nothing but ugly bruises on my legs and arms. So back in the boat, the first five casts, four fish were caught. I kept two for the fox who is more than spoiled and probably the most doted upon in Alaska. I could argue that I'm not soft on him, just fattening him up for a nice pelt, however I don't plan on losing my only semi constant friend. It is a pure give and no take relationship, but that is alright.

The ice had continued to be very spectacular with daily decreasing temperatures, forming a new artwork collection called:   Negative Twelve ~

So begins a new year, new resolutions and new dreams. Warm tropical destinations is on my mind today, but cleaning up the mess of last year both inside and outside is the chore for the days to come.
Salmon is on the menu, but I'll change the cous cous or quinoa to rice. I could use a donut, maple bar.

Do Not Feed The Wildlife

The return of the fox and his skittish companion have pulled on strings of compassion, being Christmas time and all. The meals have been pouring in, fish heads, tail fins, bread, smoked trout, and even a piece of chocolate for dessert, but something special was a breasted out Spruce hen for my friend. I spare no expense for the trust and friendship in this land where friends are not common.

Speaking of such wonderful sights, my Christmas present came early, two days early to be exact in the form of Sasquatch! Well, it is not Bigfoot, but equal in quality to the poor photography and rarity of these animals, it may as well have been the illusive monkey/man shaped giant. But today it was a seemingly hungry and time pressed Wolverine who scanned the river side for remains of food or a scent for a future kill. Whatever he was doing, he was in a hurry and no matter what noises I made, he cared little as my presence across the river was of no concern to him. Judging by size, color, behavior and likelihood in location, (contrary to my previous belief) I am almost certain it was a true wolverine.

The sunrises and sunsets are on occasion a fluid transition of color schemes, moving clouds and rays of light that allow no day to transpire. With less than two hours of sun a day, there have been these days when colors in the sky have remained from the rise and become the set.

There are ducks galore, and I don't know what variety they are, except they love to swim against the current and dive constantly and often under the ice shelf in search of .... I don't know what they are eating or looking for, but explorer's they are and many. I have tried to feed them bread. Loaves of bread I toss out to them, but they are not like back home, often taking flight keeping their wing tips wet with each constant flap and flick as they launch themselves not more than a few inches from the waters surface.

Other birds have been around, little white with red collared ones, small black ones that love to swim, the occasional seagull, an eagle now and then, magpies, crows, and more that I don't know of.

Along with my gathering wood, and supervising the lodge grounds, life is terribly slow. I have enjoyed the absence of the holiday chaos and all that it involves. My food supply is plenty, and although I eat from when I awake until I sleep, there is truly too much food. I will continue to eat with diligence and try to keep warm with winter weight, but that might only be an extra pound or two.

The lake is frozen from what I can see, but it continues to bellow and complain, cracking and making extremely loud, echoing tones that bounce from mountain to mountain and soften on the snow. I don't trust it enough to cross yet, and until I see a moose on it, I'll stay on my side.

It was a good day today, calm and clear. Christmas is about over but before it goes, Crab Cakes and Cous Cous with onion and green peas is for dinner. Hopefully everyone else had a wonderful time leading up to today and enjoyed it as much as you all could.

Merry Christmas!

Extreme Winds

The wind has been howling for several days now, and bringing the temperatures to well below zero when you factor in the wind chill, single digits without. I could not run fast enough from the sauna to my cabin, less than two minutes and the strands of my hair were frozen into chunks, making me stand bent over the wood stove to melt the ice. I watched the clouds of snow blow off the mountain tops all headed West leaving some sides nearly bare rock. Trees were swaying heavily, noises of cracking and breaking from either the trees or the ice on the lake, possibly both but were heard briefly before being drowned out by another fierce gust. The breeze was felt indoors, no matter how much I packed door jams with towels and blankets, I could not get warm enough yesterday until I was in bed under a few extra sets of covers. The wind turbines powered through, bending their metal foundations like a popsicle stick. I might need to check if they still work after blowing the circuit breakers and hearing a very unpleasant buzz coming from their power box. Which brings me to these amber colored ice cubes that I could hear bouncing off my tin roof in the early hours of the morning. It was so cold, the heat rising from my chimney pipe was cooled off so quickly that by the time it came out the top, it was just condensation of smoke, turned into liquid and thus frozen liquid smoke. Amazing! It smells good but I won't eat it. Inside my cabin, with just a mere crack in the window, it froze everything in my refrigerator, from my canned tuna to pineapple and my iced tea. Interesting enough, the tea was extracted from the water itself when frozen and I thought that to be very odd, even picture worthy.

A few other pictures of how cold it was, the waves that pounded the banks, grew to be in some spots about eight inches thick and upwards of over three feet wide. My boat was covered broadside, gas lines, oars, the motor, everything. Nothing a few whacks with a sledge hammer wouldn't fix.

As the pictures show, sunshine and blue skies have been very welcomed, although its not that nice to be out in for long periods which is anything longer than twenty minutes or so. I have gone through my first ten pounds plus of steak and had to thaw out another for butchering. When that was ready for cutting, I saved about five pounds for making jerky in the smoker and the oven. 2/3 of it was teriyaki and the rest was a dry rub and smoked. I preferred the oven, due to how thin it was cut, smoking was too strong by the time it was done. The oven made it near better than any store bought and its something I'll take away from here to hopefully make in years to come. I don't think making jerky out of rib eye will be cost effective in the real world but up here its all I've got and it sure is great.

These are the before cooking/smoking pictures. Smoking lasted about nine hours by time it was dried out and in the oven with the teriyaki on the sticks took about four to six hours. This was the first batch and after all was done, two pounds of jerky was all I had. Its gone!

So the ice continues to grow and form a life of its own, and looking quite pretty while doing it. I've never really looked at ice beyond the cubes in a tray for a cold drink but in large chunks, sheets and layers, it really is mesmerizing, or I am easily entertained. I think its a little of both, and anything new in my world up here is given a little extra time, extra thought and of course is photographed.

Salsa supply is gone, next time I will have to reserve at least seven gallons. I've got chips though!

I'll make do with some makeshift salsa.... we'll see.

Artistic Creations

Month three has begun and it will soon be a memory of good times, so I'm trying to make the most of it. I don't know what would have happened in these past two months had I been with the rest of you all, but up here its been slow, quiet and relatively comfortable.
December has started out nicely, blue sky and visible sun for a little over four hours. I must say that the cabin isn't placed in an ideal area for maximising the sight of sun. The mountains that tower over me are so close that the sun can not rise high enough to shine over the tops and reach my window, which I'm staring out looking lonesome for its light. I was informed that in Barrow, Alaska, they will not see a sunrise or sunset for the next seven weeks. I have it a little better than they, but anyone who depends on sunlight to survive, this is not a place for you. It was a great day to take a walk over the semi frozen lake, taking each step with caution, pounding my foot to hear any cracks or breaks.... and then taking another step. Once I determined that the first hundred feet from shore was solid, I ran and slid, shuffled my feet as if ice skating and having a great time actually getting some exercise. The fox who has still been absent from view was out long before I, making his rounds of the lake. I figured he was hunting, and judging by the scrambled footprints in the snow near what seemed to be tracks of some other extremely small critter, shrews or....???
His tracks led me further up the lake to where I just said enough was enough. He could have gone on for miles or another ten yards but figuring a way over a very unstable ice bridge and running creek under it was not on my to do list. I had to try anyway and it broke.

Some of the ice that broke was layered for a total of about six inches. It broke easily around the edges but remained solid in the middle. It really is neat to see how ice forms on all sorts of objects like rocks on the shoreline. Its as if the rock is glass, all shiny and smooth but with a little pressure, the coating chips away to reveal the plain old rock. Its also neat to see the bubbles captured in ice, thick and thin alike have these elongated masses of air, and it looks very artistic.

Sitting on Skype the other day, it was snowing quite heavily mid morning to after noon. Through the snowy distance there was a large flap of wings and a gentle glide to the shoreline where a Bald Eagle had just caught a fish and when I could look through the binoculars all I could see was the fish's tail flopping and the eagle glaring in my direction. He could probably see me better than I could see him, and for the times that he had to watch from above as I reeled in a fish, now it was his turn to show off his skills. I admired that. There was a pesky magpie that just landed in hope of sneaking a bite away from the much larger fisherman and although his dancing around was entertaining, the eagle had enough and flew off with a half eaten kill.

It wasn't but a short time later that with a glance out the window again, a large cow moose was wading across the river and was on her way out as I scrambled to get a picture. Without a care in the world, or maybe the only one being how she was going to warm up after a swim in the frigid waters, she just looked around and slowly meandered off into the woods. Had it been me, I would have waited for a better day, perhaps with a little more warmth.

Glowing from the sun strikes the clouds that paint my world orange and pink on the horizon and fade back to grey again every morning. On the best of these days, there is more than just the horizon that is filled with color, be it in the morning or the evening. Its hard to realize the potential of all clouds when the sun is not out. They are all dormant in color, and liveliness until given that breath, and they light up to beyond what anyone could imagine. How do such beautiful colors come from grey? I thought that a little black mixed with white was all that consisted of that color, not purple,orange, yellow, pink, red, and shades in between.

I'm not an artist so I don't know but I truly get inspired when staring into these daily creations.