Hello everyone
Well, tomorrow I will take my last run into the park for the season. Going to Fish Creek - its way up there. It's hard to believe it has been almost four months since I left home, and then at the same time it has been almost forever. I ran out of deoderant Monday! Can you believe that?!? I had to go to the mercantile and get me some more - one thing you cannot do without is deoderant! Did laundry for the last time last Saturday. I had run out of laundry detergent, too, but that's not a problem - just use hotter water and lots of dryer sheets! Spent last Sunday afternoon and evening with Gary and Pamela at the campground. They have become good friends and I will miss them. They should have a really beautiful drive home. Some people left today and so we all went to the local pub last night for some good-bye toddies. It has been rather cool - I think winter is just around the corner for this place.
I'm sending you one last piece of writing. Hope you have enjoyed reading and much as I have enjoyed writing. Who knows, maybe I will put it all together in a book some day.
I have missed all of you terribly and am excited to get back home. I have a lot of catching up to do with all of you and a few rounds to buy. Looking forward to some fall golf and, of course, some hunting. I'll be catching a bus to Anchorage Friday and then a non-stop flight to Chicago via Alaska Airlines. I guess I'm going to lose three hours on my flight home - that will take some time to adjust - and Linda tells me it's getting dark there at night!! Ha!! It will probably take some getting used to going to bed when it's dark outside. We may have to leave all the lights on in the house so I can fall asleep. I understand there is going to be a party in a couple of weeks - see you then, if not before.
The final chapter??
. . . . . Coming to this far-off land has been a trip of unknowns, a path that I needed to walk. I was afraid of stumbling as I went along, but I had to travel it - I was possessed by injustice. It had rung loud and continuously inside of me and the sound had begun to swell like the vibration of a great bell and I was in fear of it eventually filling my whole subconscious being. This sound that kept hold of me operates slowly, like the germ of a cancer. It breeds within and sends out tentacles and grows. Their first effect is not desperation but rather a restlessness. I find myself feeling that something is obscurely yet radically wrong with my life. I have learned that I am not wrong. I have no control over what others may do or have done. I control my own destiny. I need to cure my own cancer - chase away my own demons. I have made it this far with the help of my always loving wife and kids and no doubt I will make it back down the path that has a start and a finish. Time can cure all they say. I know that change can also cure. I am not McCarther, but I saw and I concurred. I will soon return home from my far away summer place, sleep in my own bed and feel the touch of my loved ones - return to a more normal life. Still, only then will I know if I have cut the tentacles of the cancer that have tried to choke me.
I have tried to put into words some of what I have felt while being in the north land but I have so many things to tell of what I have seen. Incredible sights. Dall sheep smacking heads together on top of a mountain that is five thousand feet high and one slip or false step and they would fall. Golden Eagles locking talons at eight thousand feet and falling to the earth - letting go just before hitting the ground. A female grizzly turning and slapping a male as if to say "not now, I've got a headache!" Parka squirrels standing to attention while on look-out duty for Merlin falcon and sounding their alarm when danger is near. Twin calf moose being born just 60 yards from my front door and walking by on wobbly legs that were not quite sure what they were doing. Now I see only one of them and it is unbelievable how much it has grown. The bulls have started to shed their velvet and their massive antlers are snow white, some as large as 60 to 70 inches across. The caribou's antlers have turned blood red in the progression of the seasons. The pica has stuffed his den with grass that he has gathered all summer and it has dried into hay and he is ready for the long winter. The fireweed has bloomed and shriveled and beckons the end of summer. The Arctic tern has started its 25,000 mile trip back to Antarctica. Nature's loom has been woven with its colors of spring, then summer and they have faded - now the crimson colors of fall dominate all that the eye can see. All this I have seen and more, much more, and still there is more out there to see and try to understand.
Time cures all and time concurs all and my time has all but ended here. I will leave soon and all that I have seen and done I will take with me in my memories. My memories will be like a door blowing in the wind - sometimes sucked open and sometimes blown shut. But if you find it closed, all you have to do is knock - and it will open.
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
Monday, August 27, 2007
Hello every body! I can't believe it has been over a month since I have had time to really sit down at the computer and write to you. Part of the time the computers have been down - the rest of the time I have just been really busy. Tomorrow I have a day off and no one has asked me to take their run yet so I am going to send you some more of your favorite stories! I have been writing - just not getting anything on the computer.
Last Saturday was Christmas here!! Linda had sent me some ornaments earlier in the summer - everyone used the ornaments they brought or had someone mail them, like I did, to decorate the tree. We had a really good Christmas dinner - all the trimmings and then some. All weekend long we would wish each other a "Merry Christmas" as we passed. Our passengers were a little confused until we explained that we have the Christmas holiday together before we all leave to go back to wherever home is. It was really nice. Have been going to the campground some and playing guitar and enjoying a good campfire. Can't wait to get home and go camping with Linda and Bristol. Only three weeks left for this flatlander. It gets a little harder the closer it gets - my friend Mark (who is a veteran at this) tells me that the days are long but the weeks go fast. I don't know if I'll be back at the computer again after this afternoon but I will sure try. Want to tell you that there are webcam sites out there on the internet that you can go to and see live photos of Mt. McKinley each day. You can get an idea of the weather I'm experiencing. The web camera is set up at Wonder Lake.
Hey, Hollie, Bill, Sara - only 19 more "wake-ups"!!!!!!!
The saga continues . . .
. . . . . . it has been many days since I have set pen to paper. My adventure is starting to almost feel like work. Logged 62 hours last week but did get one day off (laundry day) - lots of overtime this month. But I still have my evenings free to wander the hills and mountain sides. I have come to know this area like the back of my hand. Speaking of hands, with the hours I've been driving lately I have taken to wearing gloves all the time and it has helped with the healing of my hands from all that fast dismount stuff I did on my last climbing expedition. I have become quite the expert on grizzly bears since my arrival. I have always been somewhat of an expert on your common old black bear - and the Chicago Bears - and riding bear back - and going bear foot, just to name a few. But this grizzly is a whole different breed. Their temperment is quite different, we'll say, from bear footin'. Up here it is a full-time job just getting from my room to the mess hall without coming in contact with a rock that can give you a career-ending stone bruise. I know that all I would have to do is put my shoes on, but I want to show off all my bear knowledge whereever I go and how better to do that than going bearfooted when I am not working! I don't know, though, what with the temperature dropping more and more with each passing day - I think I need to think of a different way to project my bear knowledge. The Chicago Bears is out, thanks to my son-in-law, Bill. I had a perfectly good Chicago Bear's blanket in the camper for over two years - he left it there all that time. I took care of it for all that time so I thought it should be mine and I was going to take it to Alaska with me (Linda says, "No you are not taking that - it is Bills). Sure enough, he evoked some silly "I don't mind if you use it when you are at my house" . . . . all the while knowing that with me taking care of it for all those months that by Man Law it is rightfully mine!!! My wife and son won that one!!! So, showing off my Chicago Bears savvy is out. It seems that every one up here is an expert on something or another and with me just fresh from the flatlands I have been trying to find my one true Alaska nitch. And the more I think about it, it has to be bears. Why, just the other day I was out on one of my exploring trips and came face to face with a monster of a grizzly - what a sight to see! With all my bear know how, I knew just how to act as we were eye to eye. Running away from this beast bear footed was out of the question - and without a good Bear's blanket to throw over it so as to blind it momentarily so I could make a quick get away was going to be hard, shoes or no shoes, if it could see me run it would take chase! Being a quick thinker, I also realized bearback riding was out of the question. I had forgotten to put on any gold bond and I knew there was going to be some chaffing involved on my part should I jump on it's back and I was not looking forward to several weeks of recovery from chaffing. I have just finished a three-day battle of swamp ass brought on by a bad batch of refried beans. I was fearful of cross-contamination. Besides, I was sure that the National Parks Department has some law in the books somewhere making it a felony to ride a grizzly bear. The only thing that I could think of at this point is Barry Manalow. So, I dropped to one knee and gave him my best rendition of "Mandy" then went right into an Al Jolson's still of the Coppa, Coppa Cabanna and before I could finish the last verse of "You Light up my Life" it was gone. It is true. Everyone up here is an expert on something. Mine is chaffing.
07/06/2007 ..... reading on . .
Things are changing. The weather, the trees and bushes, the animals, the people - everything is changing, even me. There is no Dr. Jeckel/Mr. Hide thing going on with me, it's just that by day I am a mild-mannered tour driver with lots of info that I gladly spout like there is no tomorrow. It is hard to shut me up. I find myself talking to people even after they get off the bus and are trying to get to their car and go home. They have asked me questions all day and I have answered them, but always looking in the rear-view mirror and now I can talk face to face and they have no time for me. It's like being inside a Christmas snow globe. I have been wound up and scattered all around on the little frozen pond, in a perfect figure eight, on one leg, while singing a version of White Christmas that sounds just like Bing. All this while a steady snow is falling. I have been perfect performing at the top of my game and then the snow stops falling, my singing starts to sound like Puff Daddy and I fall on my ass!! Maybe I just need to be holding my loves hand and sitting side by side on the couch and talk of how the yard looks after I mowed or apologize for not getting the trash down to the road today because I went and played golf. I think that I am just a little homesick. But the days are short now and my time will come - I need not dwell on these thoughts for it will only make the time seem longer. Still the change continues. The park has lost its hillside of wild flowers and the willows have started to turn to gold. The blueberries have ripened and the air on the primrose has the smell of blueberry pie. The soap berries are also ripe and the sides of the drainage meadows are red with them. The fire weed has bloomed clear to the top and only its purple stem is left to sway in the wind, waving goodby to summer. The cotton weed with its silky tufts of snow-white cotton seem to welcome the fall. Its tops have grown and festered so that now they are ready to keep the rest of the plant warm throughout the onset of fall. But it will all surrender to the long season of the dark and I will be gone, unable to see the changes that will take place. I wonder if I will think of this place after I have gone back to my home, I wonder. Time will tell. I have a passion for this place now. I still see new beauty each day, sometimes in very strange places. Before it was newness and unfamiliarity. But now the wild life seem so much different, the newness has worn off and a feeling of their true magnificence makes me smile each time I see them. They are truly something to behold. I tell people every day that these dall sheep are found no place on earth but here and I get to see them almost every day and it has sunk in that I am so very lucky to have this opportunity. I can't explain the feeling I get when I see some of the sights that I see. Two days ago there was a 500 pound grizzly laying in the ditch right next to the road - its' back feet were almost on the road - I just pulled the bus up to it and opened the door as if it were no big deal to see a grizzly asleep alongside the road. I was no more excited than if it was a horse sleeping in the field over by Borntragers, until later, when all the people were gone and all I could think of was . . . I wonder if he had any Grey Poupon . . . .
8-14-2007 and then,
I know I'm repeating myself but the times are changing is all I can say. Last Thursday was a first for me. Went to bed early - was tired and I needed a nap - so I figure a good ten hour nap would do nicely. I turned in about 8:00 p.m. and just got to sleep when I was awakened by a knock on the door. They needed someone for a secret mission. I figure they were looking for someone with expert climbing skills, or vast knowledge of bears (all kinds) or maybe just an all-around outdoor professional. I knew that it was important, I could tell by the way they knocked on the door - you know, the kind of knock that sends chills through your blood - the kind of knock that could wake the dead. It was a rattattatt knock, sounding just like the old thomson submachine gun that me and Mike used to use for hunting rabbits back in Dovall Black's back pasture, just north of the Flat Branch. OH!!! I remember those days fondly. It seems there was always a slight skiff of snow on the ground and you could always see your breath, even in August. I think it had something to do with being north of the flat branch - it was always colder there. It's funny how this global warming is affecting our climate today, but back in those days it seemed like there was always a skiff of snow to be found. And that is where my Apache tracking skills would come in handy. There's an art to tracking and not many men have the seven senses like me. It was once said that I could track smoke to fire or rain to a puddle or snow to sleet. I can't remember all the things they used to say I could track, I just know that if there was snow in Dovell's pasture in August that I was the guy they always came to and I always got the job done. So I was not surprised when they came knocking on my door clear up here in Alaska. I figure they heard about my tracking ability and needed someone for a rescue mission. It's funny how I can tell all of this from just a knock on my door while I am asleep. But you know, rescuing is one of the things I do best. I can't remember all of the rescuing I've done in my days - like the time I rescued CP from the Mosse after his one-holer. What a mission. And feats like that can span a country. And then there was the time when I rescued the Shriver boys from the boat. My memory of that rescue is not as clear - can't recall if it was sinking or on fire or both - neither scenario would stop me from rescuing. And then there was the time - well, I don't need to say any more for fear of embarrassing some of the people I've saved in the past. There is that fine fog that can possess a man's mind when he is in between sleep and slumber. A fog that can change fiction to facts and half-truths to truths. A fog that can make you think you are in the bathroom when you're not. But within a second the fog can lift and you can say, "Is there someone knocking or is the sound of the rain on your shoes or the sound of rain on your guitar case". But with the fog just nearly lifted it is hard to tell. A warm relief comes over me. Then, at last, I am awake and go to the door - it has all been one of my Sioux visitations - like Sitting Bull might have had. But then, I doubt if he ever tried to take a ten-hour nap.
Last Saturday was Christmas here!! Linda had sent me some ornaments earlier in the summer - everyone used the ornaments they brought or had someone mail them, like I did, to decorate the tree. We had a really good Christmas dinner - all the trimmings and then some. All weekend long we would wish each other a "Merry Christmas" as we passed. Our passengers were a little confused until we explained that we have the Christmas holiday together before we all leave to go back to wherever home is. It was really nice. Have been going to the campground some and playing guitar and enjoying a good campfire. Can't wait to get home and go camping with Linda and Bristol. Only three weeks left for this flatlander. It gets a little harder the closer it gets - my friend Mark (who is a veteran at this) tells me that the days are long but the weeks go fast. I don't know if I'll be back at the computer again after this afternoon but I will sure try. Want to tell you that there are webcam sites out there on the internet that you can go to and see live photos of Mt. McKinley each day. You can get an idea of the weather I'm experiencing. The web camera is set up at Wonder Lake.
Hey, Hollie, Bill, Sara - only 19 more "wake-ups"!!!!!!!
The saga continues . . .
. . . . . . it has been many days since I have set pen to paper. My adventure is starting to almost feel like work. Logged 62 hours last week but did get one day off (laundry day) - lots of overtime this month. But I still have my evenings free to wander the hills and mountain sides. I have come to know this area like the back of my hand. Speaking of hands, with the hours I've been driving lately I have taken to wearing gloves all the time and it has helped with the healing of my hands from all that fast dismount stuff I did on my last climbing expedition. I have become quite the expert on grizzly bears since my arrival. I have always been somewhat of an expert on your common old black bear - and the Chicago Bears - and riding bear back - and going bear foot, just to name a few. But this grizzly is a whole different breed. Their temperment is quite different, we'll say, from bear footin'. Up here it is a full-time job just getting from my room to the mess hall without coming in contact with a rock that can give you a career-ending stone bruise. I know that all I would have to do is put my shoes on, but I want to show off all my bear knowledge whereever I go and how better to do that than going bearfooted when I am not working! I don't know, though, what with the temperature dropping more and more with each passing day - I think I need to think of a different way to project my bear knowledge. The Chicago Bears is out, thanks to my son-in-law, Bill. I had a perfectly good Chicago Bear's blanket in the camper for over two years - he left it there all that time. I took care of it for all that time so I thought it should be mine and I was going to take it to Alaska with me (Linda says, "No you are not taking that - it is Bills). Sure enough, he evoked some silly "I don't mind if you use it when you are at my house" . . . . all the while knowing that with me taking care of it for all those months that by Man Law it is rightfully mine!!! My wife and son won that one!!! So, showing off my Chicago Bears savvy is out. It seems that every one up here is an expert on something or another and with me just fresh from the flatlands I have been trying to find my one true Alaska nitch. And the more I think about it, it has to be bears. Why, just the other day I was out on one of my exploring trips and came face to face with a monster of a grizzly - what a sight to see! With all my bear know how, I knew just how to act as we were eye to eye. Running away from this beast bear footed was out of the question - and without a good Bear's blanket to throw over it so as to blind it momentarily so I could make a quick get away was going to be hard, shoes or no shoes, if it could see me run it would take chase! Being a quick thinker, I also realized bearback riding was out of the question. I had forgotten to put on any gold bond and I knew there was going to be some chaffing involved on my part should I jump on it's back and I was not looking forward to several weeks of recovery from chaffing. I have just finished a three-day battle of swamp ass brought on by a bad batch of refried beans. I was fearful of cross-contamination. Besides, I was sure that the National Parks Department has some law in the books somewhere making it a felony to ride a grizzly bear. The only thing that I could think of at this point is Barry Manalow. So, I dropped to one knee and gave him my best rendition of "Mandy" then went right into an Al Jolson's still of the Coppa, Coppa Cabanna and before I could finish the last verse of "You Light up my Life" it was gone. It is true. Everyone up here is an expert on something. Mine is chaffing.
07/06/2007 ..... reading on . .
Things are changing. The weather, the trees and bushes, the animals, the people - everything is changing, even me. There is no Dr. Jeckel/Mr. Hide thing going on with me, it's just that by day I am a mild-mannered tour driver with lots of info that I gladly spout like there is no tomorrow. It is hard to shut me up. I find myself talking to people even after they get off the bus and are trying to get to their car and go home. They have asked me questions all day and I have answered them, but always looking in the rear-view mirror and now I can talk face to face and they have no time for me. It's like being inside a Christmas snow globe. I have been wound up and scattered all around on the little frozen pond, in a perfect figure eight, on one leg, while singing a version of White Christmas that sounds just like Bing. All this while a steady snow is falling. I have been perfect performing at the top of my game and then the snow stops falling, my singing starts to sound like Puff Daddy and I fall on my ass!! Maybe I just need to be holding my loves hand and sitting side by side on the couch and talk of how the yard looks after I mowed or apologize for not getting the trash down to the road today because I went and played golf. I think that I am just a little homesick. But the days are short now and my time will come - I need not dwell on these thoughts for it will only make the time seem longer. Still the change continues. The park has lost its hillside of wild flowers and the willows have started to turn to gold. The blueberries have ripened and the air on the primrose has the smell of blueberry pie. The soap berries are also ripe and the sides of the drainage meadows are red with them. The fire weed has bloomed clear to the top and only its purple stem is left to sway in the wind, waving goodby to summer. The cotton weed with its silky tufts of snow-white cotton seem to welcome the fall. Its tops have grown and festered so that now they are ready to keep the rest of the plant warm throughout the onset of fall. But it will all surrender to the long season of the dark and I will be gone, unable to see the changes that will take place. I wonder if I will think of this place after I have gone back to my home, I wonder. Time will tell. I have a passion for this place now. I still see new beauty each day, sometimes in very strange places. Before it was newness and unfamiliarity. But now the wild life seem so much different, the newness has worn off and a feeling of their true magnificence makes me smile each time I see them. They are truly something to behold. I tell people every day that these dall sheep are found no place on earth but here and I get to see them almost every day and it has sunk in that I am so very lucky to have this opportunity. I can't explain the feeling I get when I see some of the sights that I see. Two days ago there was a 500 pound grizzly laying in the ditch right next to the road - its' back feet were almost on the road - I just pulled the bus up to it and opened the door as if it were no big deal to see a grizzly asleep alongside the road. I was no more excited than if it was a horse sleeping in the field over by Borntragers, until later, when all the people were gone and all I could think of was . . . I wonder if he had any Grey Poupon . . . .
8-14-2007 and then,
I know I'm repeating myself but the times are changing is all I can say. Last Thursday was a first for me. Went to bed early - was tired and I needed a nap - so I figure a good ten hour nap would do nicely. I turned in about 8:00 p.m. and just got to sleep when I was awakened by a knock on the door. They needed someone for a secret mission. I figure they were looking for someone with expert climbing skills, or vast knowledge of bears (all kinds) or maybe just an all-around outdoor professional. I knew that it was important, I could tell by the way they knocked on the door - you know, the kind of knock that sends chills through your blood - the kind of knock that could wake the dead. It was a rattattatt knock, sounding just like the old thomson submachine gun that me and Mike used to use for hunting rabbits back in Dovall Black's back pasture, just north of the Flat Branch. OH!!! I remember those days fondly. It seems there was always a slight skiff of snow on the ground and you could always see your breath, even in August. I think it had something to do with being north of the flat branch - it was always colder there. It's funny how this global warming is affecting our climate today, but back in those days it seemed like there was always a skiff of snow to be found. And that is where my Apache tracking skills would come in handy. There's an art to tracking and not many men have the seven senses like me. It was once said that I could track smoke to fire or rain to a puddle or snow to sleet. I can't remember all the things they used to say I could track, I just know that if there was snow in Dovell's pasture in August that I was the guy they always came to and I always got the job done. So I was not surprised when they came knocking on my door clear up here in Alaska. I figure they heard about my tracking ability and needed someone for a rescue mission. It's funny how I can tell all of this from just a knock on my door while I am asleep. But you know, rescuing is one of the things I do best. I can't remember all of the rescuing I've done in my days - like the time I rescued CP from the Mosse after his one-holer. What a mission. And feats like that can span a country. And then there was the time when I rescued the Shriver boys from the boat. My memory of that rescue is not as clear - can't recall if it was sinking or on fire or both - neither scenario would stop me from rescuing. And then there was the time - well, I don't need to say any more for fear of embarrassing some of the people I've saved in the past. There is that fine fog that can possess a man's mind when he is in between sleep and slumber. A fog that can change fiction to facts and half-truths to truths. A fog that can make you think you are in the bathroom when you're not. But within a second the fog can lift and you can say, "Is there someone knocking or is the sound of the rain on your shoes or the sound of rain on your guitar case". But with the fog just nearly lifted it is hard to tell. A warm relief comes over me. Then, at last, I am awake and go to the door - it has all been one of my Sioux visitations - like Sitting Bull might have had. But then, I doubt if he ever tried to take a ten-hour nap.
Monday, July 30, 2007
July is almost over
Hi everyone.
Sorry I have not been to the computer lately but have been very busy. Did a double run Sunday before last and worked my Thursday off again last week. Did have a very enjoyable Friday off though. Went to Anderson, Alaska with the campground hosts to a bluegrass festival. Music was really good. We stopped for a nice steak dinner before coming back to camp. Nice way to spend a day off.
I had Ricky Craven and a friend of his on my bus yesterday. They are up here on vacation and the "guys" were going to do some hiking. I could have given them some really good climbing tips - but I didn't. He was more interested in what I was doing for the summer. We talked for quite a while.
It is starting to get cooler. You can see your breath early in the mornings. I hope the Alaska winter is slow in coming - I still have six weeks to go!!!
I don't have much time and won't be able to write a short story this trip to the computer, but will try to soon.
Lots of love to you Linda, - Hollie, Bill & Sara. OK, you too Tobe. All of you! I miss you all - will write more later.
Monty
Sorry I have not been to the computer lately but have been very busy. Did a double run Sunday before last and worked my Thursday off again last week. Did have a very enjoyable Friday off though. Went to Anderson, Alaska with the campground hosts to a bluegrass festival. Music was really good. We stopped for a nice steak dinner before coming back to camp. Nice way to spend a day off.
I had Ricky Craven and a friend of his on my bus yesterday. They are up here on vacation and the "guys" were going to do some hiking. I could have given them some really good climbing tips - but I didn't. He was more interested in what I was doing for the summer. We talked for quite a while.
It is starting to get cooler. You can see your breath early in the mornings. I hope the Alaska winter is slow in coming - I still have six weeks to go!!!
I don't have much time and won't be able to write a short story this trip to the computer, but will try to soon.
Lots of love to you Linda, - Hollie, Bill & Sara. OK, you too Tobe. All of you! I miss you all - will write more later.
Monty
Friday, July 20, 2007
I'm going to the campground
Hello everybody. Have not been able to get to computers for a few days - have been working through days off again. But am taking today to go to one of the campgrounds for the day - taking my guitar and looking forward to sitting around a campfire, playing some music and making some more new friends. I met the campground hosts when they came to the park for a tour a couple of weeks ago and they invited me to join them on my next day off. Hope all is well. Linda should be in Arizona with the kids having a good time.
I'll try to get another book exerp typed before I have to catch my bus to the campground. These new computers we got are supposed to be faster - will see if it helps my typing go a little faster, too!!!
. . . . July 9th, 2007 - Just another walk in the park - got a day off - one out of the last 14 days but that is good for me. The more I work the faster the days go by. It is not that I want for the day to all be gone so I can come home, it's just that it helps me to be busy and keeps me from thinking of home, which I miss very much. But I can handle it. I think that I am about half way done with my great journey. I figure I should ask one of my fellow drivers friends if he might have a small day pack that I might borrow and of course he does. He says, "Plannig to do a little backpacking in the park on your day off?" Well, you know me, "Of course," I say, I'm thinking I might cut some new trails for the park district. You know what ever they need - 210 - 220 - whatever it takes. Just something 7 or 8 miles long and maybe up to about 12 or 14 thousand feet. I really don't want to go much higher than that without my personal climbing gear." So my soon-to0be X friend says, "Well, if you want, you can use my climbing gear" Great!!! With it being my day off and all I have slept in and am quite rested and my mind is fresh and sharp and with a quick responce I say, "It probably won't fit me" "Not to worry" he says " all you need is rope and a hammer" With it still being before noon and my mind razer sharp I say "Thanks anyway, but I am allergic to himp" thinking that this will surely shut him up and let me get out into the park so that I can get on with my own style of trail clearing. "Not to worry, the rope I have is nylon! - like he is Sir Edman Hillery just back from Everest. So I say, "well, in that case, I would just love to use your rope and hammer" thinking that he would start to go get his climbing gear then I could follow him and when we get to the steps I could give it that old sprained ankle stumble and say something like "hold on, this ankle might start to swell. I better get some ice on it and drink some ice tea and see how it does in an hour or two, knowing full well that I would not have time to cut 7 or 8 miles of trail then and still get back in time for supper. But I think this new X friend has mind-reading abilities. He says it's not really a hammer, it's a climbing axe. Ok, ok, just get your rope and axe and I'll use them, ok. Then, with a rather puzzled look on his face he asks do you think you'll need my peetons. Of course, I will say. I've started to turn red and spit when I talk now from anger. The nreve of this X friend. All I want to do is go for a walk in the park and he turns it into a full-blown climbing expedition. Finally, I let go of his throat and he runs to his room and is back in just two minutes with all this neatly bundled rope and pack with this chrome platted ice axe and a hole stringer of peetons or krovtons. I don't know. But he throws them at my feet and runs back toward his room mumbling something like "keep them for as long as you need them - or as long as you something. I could not hear him all that well but I think it was something like that ice hole and it freezing over. I figure it is mountain climbing talk so I just say, "Sure, no problem. It's about 1:30 and I finally get on a bus and head out into the park. It has taken a little longer to get all of my essentials packed. I had to fill two water bottles with ice and my hand got really cold pushing all those little squares of ice into the bottles so that I would have some nice cold water to drink on my hike. I wanted to be comfortable when I stopped my trail blazing. Finally I am off the bus and out in the back country - that is Alaskin for in the woods alone at last. The first thing to do is find a place to hide all the climbing gear where no one will find it. Then I remember that I am in a six million acre wilderness not in an Illinois 5 acre wood lot. In the Alaska wilds you don't need to hide climbing gear you just need to know where to find it after you lay it down. So I figure a new tree will do for me, being that I am part Alaskan now it should be no trouble finding later. Ao with all that un necessary climbing gear stashed it is off to find the best looking mountain within close waling distance that probably has never before been climbed by a half Alaskan and half Humboldt flatlander before. So I look them all over an pick out the tallest and steepest one probably in the whole Alaskan range, except for McKinly. I get very comfortable in a grove of beautifully smelling open space and I carefully plan my route to the top. I figure it should take an experienced climber about two hours to make the sumitt but someone who has read as extensive as I have should summit and be back down in about 40 minutes. So I close my eyes and explode into the brush and start my assent of the mountain, knowing that when I make the summit that I will have to come right back down so as not to miss the 3:00 bus I will need to take to go back to the front country - that is some more Alaskan - it means back to my room. I must say I don't think I have every shown more skill and grace and just shear agility in my climbing abilities in my life. It seemed like in just no time I was sittong atop of one of Alaska's more massive prepapuss - this means high mountain and boy what a view it was. Breathtaking to say the least. So, for the next 2 hours I tried to catch my breath that this mountain had taken and enjoy the view. Finally, after my 2 hour nap in mountain's valley, I happen to remember I have some ice cold water that I fixed for just this occasion. It is right there in my pack - which is right there by that new tree where all my X friends climbing gear is stashed - who needs water, I laugh - and start my descent - that means to come back down in Alaskan. My descent is amazing - it takes less than six minutes to get all most all the way back down. I think the driving rain and hail sotrm that has blown in over the back side of the mountain has helped with my rather stylish descent. Almost all of it is done in the full-tuck position. I think I started with that old standard stop - drop - and roll but I soon realized this mountain was far to tricky for standard back-home flatlander descending - I was going to need to use all my Mary Lou Rettin moves to keep from tearing all my cloths off - which would make it hard to get bvack on the bus. But when I was very close to the bottom I remembers my Timex training and went in to a full heal first butt slide with one finger pointing to my wrist just in case come other hiker might be walking the road as I came rocketing out of the road-side brush. He would know that I was merely testing my watch. But alas, no other hiker was there to wittness my 4-point landing on the road, which was a good thing - they would have probabbly wanted my autograph and I only had two hours to find my water bottle and all that useless climbing gear so that I could catch that last bus out of the park at 11:00 p.m. that night. I knew I should have brought camping equipment - not climbing - but so much for hindsight. That night I camped out in Denali is another story . . . .
I'll try to get another book exerp typed before I have to catch my bus to the campground. These new computers we got are supposed to be faster - will see if it helps my typing go a little faster, too!!!
. . . . July 9th, 2007 - Just another walk in the park - got a day off - one out of the last 14 days but that is good for me. The more I work the faster the days go by. It is not that I want for the day to all be gone so I can come home, it's just that it helps me to be busy and keeps me from thinking of home, which I miss very much. But I can handle it. I think that I am about half way done with my great journey. I figure I should ask one of my fellow drivers friends if he might have a small day pack that I might borrow and of course he does. He says, "Plannig to do a little backpacking in the park on your day off?" Well, you know me, "Of course," I say, I'm thinking I might cut some new trails for the park district. You know what ever they need - 210 - 220 - whatever it takes. Just something 7 or 8 miles long and maybe up to about 12 or 14 thousand feet. I really don't want to go much higher than that without my personal climbing gear." So my soon-to0be X friend says, "Well, if you want, you can use my climbing gear" Great!!! With it being my day off and all I have slept in and am quite rested and my mind is fresh and sharp and with a quick responce I say, "It probably won't fit me" "Not to worry" he says " all you need is rope and a hammer" With it still being before noon and my mind razer sharp I say "Thanks anyway, but I am allergic to himp" thinking that this will surely shut him up and let me get out into the park so that I can get on with my own style of trail clearing. "Not to worry, the rope I have is nylon! - like he is Sir Edman Hillery just back from Everest. So I say, "well, in that case, I would just love to use your rope and hammer" thinking that he would start to go get his climbing gear then I could follow him and when we get to the steps I could give it that old sprained ankle stumble and say something like "hold on, this ankle might start to swell. I better get some ice on it and drink some ice tea and see how it does in an hour or two, knowing full well that I would not have time to cut 7 or 8 miles of trail then and still get back in time for supper. But I think this new X friend has mind-reading abilities. He says it's not really a hammer, it's a climbing axe. Ok, ok, just get your rope and axe and I'll use them, ok. Then, with a rather puzzled look on his face he asks do you think you'll need my peetons. Of course, I will say. I've started to turn red and spit when I talk now from anger. The nreve of this X friend. All I want to do is go for a walk in the park and he turns it into a full-blown climbing expedition. Finally, I let go of his throat and he runs to his room and is back in just two minutes with all this neatly bundled rope and pack with this chrome platted ice axe and a hole stringer of peetons or krovtons. I don't know. But he throws them at my feet and runs back toward his room mumbling something like "keep them for as long as you need them - or as long as you something. I could not hear him all that well but I think it was something like that ice hole and it freezing over. I figure it is mountain climbing talk so I just say, "Sure, no problem. It's about 1:30 and I finally get on a bus and head out into the park. It has taken a little longer to get all of my essentials packed. I had to fill two water bottles with ice and my hand got really cold pushing all those little squares of ice into the bottles so that I would have some nice cold water to drink on my hike. I wanted to be comfortable when I stopped my trail blazing. Finally I am off the bus and out in the back country - that is Alaskin for in the woods alone at last. The first thing to do is find a place to hide all the climbing gear where no one will find it. Then I remember that I am in a six million acre wilderness not in an Illinois 5 acre wood lot. In the Alaska wilds you don't need to hide climbing gear you just need to know where to find it after you lay it down. So I figure a new tree will do for me, being that I am part Alaskan now it should be no trouble finding later. Ao with all that un necessary climbing gear stashed it is off to find the best looking mountain within close waling distance that probably has never before been climbed by a half Alaskan and half Humboldt flatlander before. So I look them all over an pick out the tallest and steepest one probably in the whole Alaskan range, except for McKinly. I get very comfortable in a grove of beautifully smelling open space and I carefully plan my route to the top. I figure it should take an experienced climber about two hours to make the sumitt but someone who has read as extensive as I have should summit and be back down in about 40 minutes. So I close my eyes and explode into the brush and start my assent of the mountain, knowing that when I make the summit that I will have to come right back down so as not to miss the 3:00 bus I will need to take to go back to the front country - that is some more Alaskan - it means back to my room. I must say I don't think I have every shown more skill and grace and just shear agility in my climbing abilities in my life. It seemed like in just no time I was sittong atop of one of Alaska's more massive prepapuss - this means high mountain and boy what a view it was. Breathtaking to say the least. So, for the next 2 hours I tried to catch my breath that this mountain had taken and enjoy the view. Finally, after my 2 hour nap in mountain's valley, I happen to remember I have some ice cold water that I fixed for just this occasion. It is right there in my pack - which is right there by that new tree where all my X friends climbing gear is stashed - who needs water, I laugh - and start my descent - that means to come back down in Alaskan. My descent is amazing - it takes less than six minutes to get all most all the way back down. I think the driving rain and hail sotrm that has blown in over the back side of the mountain has helped with my rather stylish descent. Almost all of it is done in the full-tuck position. I think I started with that old standard stop - drop - and roll but I soon realized this mountain was far to tricky for standard back-home flatlander descending - I was going to need to use all my Mary Lou Rettin moves to keep from tearing all my cloths off - which would make it hard to get bvack on the bus. But when I was very close to the bottom I remembers my Timex training and went in to a full heal first butt slide with one finger pointing to my wrist just in case come other hiker might be walking the road as I came rocketing out of the road-side brush. He would know that I was merely testing my watch. But alas, no other hiker was there to wittness my 4-point landing on the road, which was a good thing - they would have probabbly wanted my autograph and I only had two hours to find my water bottle and all that useless climbing gear so that I could catch that last bus out of the park at 11:00 p.m. that night. I knew I should have brought camping equipment - not climbing - but so much for hindsight. That night I camped out in Denali is another story . . . .
Sunday, July 8, 2007
Hello Everyone - hope you all had a good 4th! I had to work but it was a good day - good group of people and I got back to camp early enough in the day to enjoy the cook-out they had for all of the staff. I guess when it gets dark they will have the fireworks! Ended up having to work one of my days off this week on Thursday, but on my Friday off I did something different for the first time - I went "hiking"!! Had my first encounter solo with a grizzly while I was up there - talk about the hair standing up on the back of your neck. He was across a creek from where I emerged from some woods. He was digging along the edge of the water - stopped and looked up at me and then went on about his business. I back stepped into the woods and went further towards the road before coming out of the woods again. He had gone the opposite way. Got some pictures of him, though.
It is REALLY good to read your blogs - keep 'em coming!
. . . . it continues
It is June 26th at 1:50 in the afternoon and I must head out soon - the trail calls. A new day in the wilderness and I think I shall go back to my old bait. Yesterday's didn't work as well. The good thing about the bait and the catch is that it is never the same. I had been using the same bait for two weeks - and it has worked well - but I changed strategies yesterday and it did not work as well. No one wanted to get their picture taken with me when we were back safely off the road and their gratuities were not up to par. So it is back to the old red wigglers and barbless hooks. I find great joy in just being able to make tracks toward the high one every day. It is like falling from the heights of the eagle at Six Flags with arms stretched high and a scream of terror coming from a face that will soon be all smiles. But to set the hook on 20 to 30 people and have them all eating out of your hand is quite exhilarating. Just like the wide, wide world of sports - you know the thrill of victory and the agony of defeat. I have had both. Twice I have been asked if I am Amish and yesterday I was asked if my wife was Amish, which was a first. I guess I should stop telling people that I am from Cooks Mills, a small Amish community in central Illinois!! The trick is to chum with lots of facts and figures to start with but you need to keep a close eye on them in the review mirror. If they start to nod, I throw in a quick story about some Paul Bunyan type local that was the first to climb Mt. McKinley with a pack full of jelly donuts, Pepsi cola and carrying a 14 foot long flag pole to raise his gangs colors on. They all love these stories but you have to be very careful not to give them too much homespun all at once. There might just be a brave soul sitting in the back of the bus that you didn't recognise as such when they got on. That is the first thing you do each trip out as they give me their ticket - I always look them over very closely and make sure that I have only vacationers getting on the bus. For the most part, they are easy to spot - most have that "where's your mother" look about them or the dreaded fly-catcher face with mouth open, humped shoulders, pants pulled up way past their waist giving them the nine inch high water look. I've learned to spot most of them before I ever get off the bus to greet them. I sit up much higher than the group standing there awaiting their journey and can look down on them when I pull up. If I see that with every other person standing there I can only the top of heads then I know I have all fly-catchers and their wives. Now, a fly-catchers wife wouldn't dare ask a question of me without first elbowing her pet fly-catcher at least four times and asking him the question loud enough for the bus behind us to hear, so this gives me lots of time to drift back to the facts and figures - not one of my stories here - too many back-woods stories all at once and they will get brave and start to think they know me (or more than me). Then the first thing you know they will ask, rather skeptically, "Are you from Alaska"? That is when I have to show them some of what I am using for bait. I've only had this happen four or five times and it is always when we stop for a break and one who has become brave will attempt to trip me up and ask me what the Latin pronunciation of grissley
is. Without hesitation I will tell them Urssus Arctos. This is a trick question because they have all been told this earlier by a park ranger - this brave traveler if just seeing if I know. They figure that when I don't, THEY can tell ME - right after they rip off their shirt and expose their blue chest with "super vacationer" written in capital letters. This in turn, they think, will give them some sort of super powers, just like when they are mowing the lawn at home and they cannot hear their wife yelling at them to not throw grass into her flower garden. I've had a few of these super vacation heroes before. They are the easiest to spot for when they first get on the bus they find a need to tell everyone else that they are on vacation and have been for five weeks already - like this will give a higher pecking order among the other passengers. Invariably, at the first stop, they will get off the bus and wait for all the rest to get off and then, with a smile that would rival the Joker from Batman and one hand tightly gripping their collar ask, "so, can you tell me the Latin name for grizzley?" At first I give him that 'deer in the headlights' look - like I've just been asked the 64 million dollar question and I don't have a clue to the answer - and then, just as he starts to rip the front of his shirt open I'll say Urssus Arctos - but it is too late for him to stop - he's already ripped the first three buttons and half the sleeve off and then he realizes that my Latin pronunciation rivals even that of Vinnie (the Pope) and he stops in mid-rip and returns to his fly-catcher posture. Now he must go back to the back of the bus and tell his wife that I must have studied for the priesthood because my Latin is impeccable and all she wants to know, with her elbow penetrating his ribcage like a locomotive wheel crank, is how did you tear your shirt!
It doesn't matter in which order I cast out bait or if I just chum big or little pieces a bit, the trick is not to set the hook until I am on the way back - to keep them steadily feeding and presently I have gotten really good at it. Tell them something unbelievable when we first start out, which I do, like "Today is my first day" They all know in their hearts that this cannot be true. There is no way the National Park Service would let them be taken out into the wilderness by someone who had never been there before. So it's lots of "Sure, we know, sure" The chum is in the water and they are all swimming around the bait. So for the next seven hours I chum and cast with facts and figures and stories of gold and back woods adventures and the names of plants and trees, animals' habits - if they migrate or change color in the winter - do the wolves eat them or can a grizzley outrun a dall sheep and that we have 37 mammals, 167 birds, 670 plants and one amphibian. And on and on and on I go until I think they can hold no more. We are on the way back, just before we go back over Polychrome, which is a mountain sitting about 6,000 feet high with no guard rails on the road and just enough room for one bus to get down in most places. The way is straight down and around and down. This is a great time to set the hook because all are very quiet and scared - some hide their head under their coat and won't look. This is a great time to act like I am not paying attention and that is when I tell them I am from Illinois - a little town called Cooks Mills and that today really is my first day and I make them all believe it too. I know I've done a good job of feeding them info and that they believe me by the way then applaud and cheer. When we get back, even the super vacationer's wife wants to get her picture taken with me and her shirt-torn fly-catcher husband. Life is good.
It is REALLY good to read your blogs - keep 'em coming!
. . . . it continues
It is June 26th at 1:50 in the afternoon and I must head out soon - the trail calls. A new day in the wilderness and I think I shall go back to my old bait. Yesterday's didn't work as well. The good thing about the bait and the catch is that it is never the same. I had been using the same bait for two weeks - and it has worked well - but I changed strategies yesterday and it did not work as well. No one wanted to get their picture taken with me when we were back safely off the road and their gratuities were not up to par. So it is back to the old red wigglers and barbless hooks. I find great joy in just being able to make tracks toward the high one every day. It is like falling from the heights of the eagle at Six Flags with arms stretched high and a scream of terror coming from a face that will soon be all smiles. But to set the hook on 20 to 30 people and have them all eating out of your hand is quite exhilarating. Just like the wide, wide world of sports - you know the thrill of victory and the agony of defeat. I have had both. Twice I have been asked if I am Amish and yesterday I was asked if my wife was Amish, which was a first. I guess I should stop telling people that I am from Cooks Mills, a small Amish community in central Illinois!! The trick is to chum with lots of facts and figures to start with but you need to keep a close eye on them in the review mirror. If they start to nod, I throw in a quick story about some Paul Bunyan type local that was the first to climb Mt. McKinley with a pack full of jelly donuts, Pepsi cola and carrying a 14 foot long flag pole to raise his gangs colors on. They all love these stories but you have to be very careful not to give them too much homespun all at once. There might just be a brave soul sitting in the back of the bus that you didn't recognise as such when they got on. That is the first thing you do each trip out as they give me their ticket - I always look them over very closely and make sure that I have only vacationers getting on the bus. For the most part, they are easy to spot - most have that "where's your mother" look about them or the dreaded fly-catcher face with mouth open, humped shoulders, pants pulled up way past their waist giving them the nine inch high water look. I've learned to spot most of them before I ever get off the bus to greet them. I sit up much higher than the group standing there awaiting their journey and can look down on them when I pull up. If I see that with every other person standing there I can only the top of heads then I know I have all fly-catchers and their wives. Now, a fly-catchers wife wouldn't dare ask a question of me without first elbowing her pet fly-catcher at least four times and asking him the question loud enough for the bus behind us to hear, so this gives me lots of time to drift back to the facts and figures - not one of my stories here - too many back-woods stories all at once and they will get brave and start to think they know me (or more than me). Then the first thing you know they will ask, rather skeptically, "Are you from Alaska"? That is when I have to show them some of what I am using for bait. I've only had this happen four or five times and it is always when we stop for a break and one who has become brave will attempt to trip me up and ask me what the Latin pronunciation of grissley
is. Without hesitation I will tell them Urssus Arctos. This is a trick question because they have all been told this earlier by a park ranger - this brave traveler if just seeing if I know. They figure that when I don't, THEY can tell ME - right after they rip off their shirt and expose their blue chest with "super vacationer" written in capital letters. This in turn, they think, will give them some sort of super powers, just like when they are mowing the lawn at home and they cannot hear their wife yelling at them to not throw grass into her flower garden. I've had a few of these super vacation heroes before. They are the easiest to spot for when they first get on the bus they find a need to tell everyone else that they are on vacation and have been for five weeks already - like this will give a higher pecking order among the other passengers. Invariably, at the first stop, they will get off the bus and wait for all the rest to get off and then, with a smile that would rival the Joker from Batman and one hand tightly gripping their collar ask, "so, can you tell me the Latin name for grizzley?" At first I give him that 'deer in the headlights' look - like I've just been asked the 64 million dollar question and I don't have a clue to the answer - and then, just as he starts to rip the front of his shirt open I'll say Urssus Arctos - but it is too late for him to stop - he's already ripped the first three buttons and half the sleeve off and then he realizes that my Latin pronunciation rivals even that of Vinnie (the Pope) and he stops in mid-rip and returns to his fly-catcher posture. Now he must go back to the back of the bus and tell his wife that I must have studied for the priesthood because my Latin is impeccable and all she wants to know, with her elbow penetrating his ribcage like a locomotive wheel crank, is how did you tear your shirt!
It doesn't matter in which order I cast out bait or if I just chum big or little pieces a bit, the trick is not to set the hook until I am on the way back - to keep them steadily feeding and presently I have gotten really good at it. Tell them something unbelievable when we first start out, which I do, like "Today is my first day" They all know in their hearts that this cannot be true. There is no way the National Park Service would let them be taken out into the wilderness by someone who had never been there before. So it's lots of "Sure, we know, sure" The chum is in the water and they are all swimming around the bait. So for the next seven hours I chum and cast with facts and figures and stories of gold and back woods adventures and the names of plants and trees, animals' habits - if they migrate or change color in the winter - do the wolves eat them or can a grizzley outrun a dall sheep and that we have 37 mammals, 167 birds, 670 plants and one amphibian. And on and on and on I go until I think they can hold no more. We are on the way back, just before we go back over Polychrome, which is a mountain sitting about 6,000 feet high with no guard rails on the road and just enough room for one bus to get down in most places. The way is straight down and around and down. This is a great time to set the hook because all are very quiet and scared - some hide their head under their coat and won't look. This is a great time to act like I am not paying attention and that is when I tell them I am from Illinois - a little town called Cooks Mills and that today really is my first day and I make them all believe it too. I know I've done a good job of feeding them info and that they believe me by the way then applaud and cheer. When we get back, even the super vacationer's wife wants to get her picture taken with me and her shirt-torn fly-catcher husband. Life is good.
Tuesday, July 3, 2007
Continuing your favorite book:
It was June 21st - the first day of summer and my first day off in ten days. But, the day is only half over and they can still come find me. All of my work cloths are in the washing machine and with that I find security that I have a good excuse to get out of work if they to dome looking. There is a new and different gloom over camp this morning. There are furrowed brows on most faces for there is a darkness to the air which brings a tear to the eye and makes your nose run. This is new for me. It seems that every day there is something new for me in this place to which I have come. There is a fire - and fire is the one thing that all take very seriously here. There is talk at breakfast of the thunderstorm that came over the primrose last night. I had just made it in off the trail when the storm blew into camp and lightening lit up the storm-darkened sky. I paid not that much attention to it. My only thought were to finish dinner before the rain came. It is so strange for me to perceive the consequences of just a simple summer thunderstorm that rambled through last night at supper time. But all of the talk this morning is of the smoke that fills the air and blocks out the sun. There is talk of who will run the shuttle - the park service or us VTS drivers and when will they make a call for volunteers to help with the fire. Will they take our heavy equipment from here to build fire breaks or use our buses to evacuate people. I think to myself, but it was only a little thunderstorm. At home it would get very little talk around the counter by the old boys at the golf course. But where the woods are filled with years of dropped spruce needles and dried dead trees that have been waiting for decades to burn because they will not rot or decay - to burn is all that they have left to do to complete their cycle of life. Still people keep coming by and all ask the same question - "Is there a fire?" These are the night people who are just now crawling from their bunks because the smell of smoke is too strong for them to sleep through. It is strange how the whole morning has past and coffee and coffee has been drank but the talk is all the same. It is of fire - fires of '04 and '05 and of '06 which was the worst year and all of the old hands here have their own story to tell of what they did and where they were when the last fire broke. The story telling goes round the table like the lazy susan of the 50's on taco night so supper could be finished in time to watch Gunsmoke or the Jackie Gleason Show and on they go. We talk through breakfast and into lunch. The table talkers have come and gone but I have stayed through all for I am new and need to hear more. Then the first ranger we have seen comes to the table. Everyone is alert to what he has to say. We have all moved just a little closer to the front of our chairs and our coffee cups have been moved just a little closer to the center of the table. We are all like 4th graders at Christmas, sitting in school waiting for the teacher to tell us that Santa has been seen in the halls and we all need to go to the gym. Then, at last, he finishes his first long sip of coffee and looks up at all of our faces and he knows what is expected of him.......so he does his duty. "Three fires," he says, "one big one and two small ones in Euracks Creek but the park road is still open at the east for. The mountain was not out. Not many riders today. The two small ones should be no problem but we'll have to wait and see about the other. All total we now have 52 separate fires burning in Alaska today. There's one big fire at Homer down on the Key Nine Peninsula but it is far from us. The smoke is unreal. It has my nose running like a faucet and my eyes too. The last wave of lunch eaters are in off the road. All veterans of many years say it will burn for a month - 'till fair time - then rain. Just like the Coles County Fair I think to myself. I need to find a wildflower key book and get some more studying done so I have decided to let nature take its coarse and let the veterans at the lunch table fire campaign fight on - for I have learned all I can over this breakfast and lunch debate - oh how with this dose of table talk I can relate back to the great deal of time spent around many a breakfast and lunch table speculating on the moving of the Blue Bird Diner. . . .
It was June 21st - the first day of summer and my first day off in ten days. But, the day is only half over and they can still come find me. All of my work cloths are in the washing machine and with that I find security that I have a good excuse to get out of work if they to dome looking. There is a new and different gloom over camp this morning. There are furrowed brows on most faces for there is a darkness to the air which brings a tear to the eye and makes your nose run. This is new for me. It seems that every day there is something new for me in this place to which I have come. There is a fire - and fire is the one thing that all take very seriously here. There is talk at breakfast of the thunderstorm that came over the primrose last night. I had just made it in off the trail when the storm blew into camp and lightening lit up the storm-darkened sky. I paid not that much attention to it. My only thought were to finish dinner before the rain came. It is so strange for me to perceive the consequences of just a simple summer thunderstorm that rambled through last night at supper time. But all of the talk this morning is of the smoke that fills the air and blocks out the sun. There is talk of who will run the shuttle - the park service or us VTS drivers and when will they make a call for volunteers to help with the fire. Will they take our heavy equipment from here to build fire breaks or use our buses to evacuate people. I think to myself, but it was only a little thunderstorm. At home it would get very little talk around the counter by the old boys at the golf course. But where the woods are filled with years of dropped spruce needles and dried dead trees that have been waiting for decades to burn because they will not rot or decay - to burn is all that they have left to do to complete their cycle of life. Still people keep coming by and all ask the same question - "Is there a fire?" These are the night people who are just now crawling from their bunks because the smell of smoke is too strong for them to sleep through. It is strange how the whole morning has past and coffee and coffee has been drank but the talk is all the same. It is of fire - fires of '04 and '05 and of '06 which was the worst year and all of the old hands here have their own story to tell of what they did and where they were when the last fire broke. The story telling goes round the table like the lazy susan of the 50's on taco night so supper could be finished in time to watch Gunsmoke or the Jackie Gleason Show and on they go. We talk through breakfast and into lunch. The table talkers have come and gone but I have stayed through all for I am new and need to hear more. Then the first ranger we have seen comes to the table. Everyone is alert to what he has to say. We have all moved just a little closer to the front of our chairs and our coffee cups have been moved just a little closer to the center of the table. We are all like 4th graders at Christmas, sitting in school waiting for the teacher to tell us that Santa has been seen in the halls and we all need to go to the gym. Then, at last, he finishes his first long sip of coffee and looks up at all of our faces and he knows what is expected of him.......so he does his duty. "Three fires," he says, "one big one and two small ones in Euracks Creek but the park road is still open at the east for. The mountain was not out. Not many riders today. The two small ones should be no problem but we'll have to wait and see about the other. All total we now have 52 separate fires burning in Alaska today. There's one big fire at Homer down on the Key Nine Peninsula but it is far from us. The smoke is unreal. It has my nose running like a faucet and my eyes too. The last wave of lunch eaters are in off the road. All veterans of many years say it will burn for a month - 'till fair time - then rain. Just like the Coles County Fair I think to myself. I need to find a wildflower key book and get some more studying done so I have decided to let nature take its coarse and let the veterans at the lunch table fire campaign fight on - for I have learned all I can over this breakfast and lunch debate - oh how with this dose of table talk I can relate back to the great deal of time spent around many a breakfast and lunch table speculating on the moving of the Blue Bird Diner. . . .
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
The continuing saga . . . .
Back to camp after my Toklet run today. This is not one of my favorite times - the room is small and dark - but I will put down today's events. I readied myself early today, I don't want to be rushed. This practice of punching a time clock is hard for me to get into the habit of doing. But if ever an old dog was to learn a new trick I guess it is me today. I leave the WAC with 22 soon to be new friends. I have a new job - I am now driving a big green bus - no more short bus stuff for this flatlander! I will go 68 miles into the park today. As my new friends climb aboard with their canvas tote bags and small backpacks - some with tinkerbell on the front, some with polar tech on them, some in camo pants and some in sweat pants. They all have that look of excitement and couresity, should we do this or not?? I have decided to tell them all that this is my first day and that I am very nervous. They all tend to look at me with just a little fear and this, I have discovered, gives me the upper hand. I can see it in their faces - are they sure they want to go through with this - but I have them - they have paid their good hard-earned money and they are on vacation. The security of their recliner can't save them now. They are mine and I will do with them as I please. So, I do as normal, I lie - and I do it with suvch honesty in my eyes that at first they laugh and then the look comes over them so the only thing for me to do is lie some more. Oh what pleasure this gives me, so into my tongue-tied speech I go. This adds a touch more of realisms and I hook them even more. But by the time I get to the part about no standing or hanging out the window, no smoking or drinking of alcoholic beverages and that all try tables must be in the upright and locked position, there comes a collective sign from all of the true believers.
This is my third trip on the big bus and I gain more confidence with each trip. My speal gets better with each trip. It is bright today with some clouds down low but the high one, I fear, will hide herself from me today. We press on - seven and a half hours out and back today with only one way in and one way out. A lynx has come to the road to hunt for snowshoe hares and I am lucky to be rounding the corner and he is sitting there. He is almost silver in color, its' guard hairs are tipped in black, a shaggy black streaked silver ruff frames its' oval face. Long delicate whiskers extend from either side of its pink nose and tufts top its' ears. This is a rare sighting, for the lunx is very elusive and hard to spot, but the snowshoe hare are in a boom cycle right now. This happens every eight to ten years. Their normal numbers are 25 to 50 per square mile but in this book cycle, their numbers are 2500 per square mile. Of all the creatures in Alaska, noe are more dependent on the rabbit than is the lynx. They live on rabbit, follows the rabbit, thinks rabbit, tastes like rabbit and increases in numbers with them. Failure to find them and the die of starvation. The law of good and plenty. Some of my new friends are shocked by my analagy, but then they are mostly city people - townies at best - and they have not the sense of the woods as I do. After all, I am Alaskan, for the next 100 days anyway, and with being Alaskan comes that deeper knowledge and understanding of how the animals and woods work and live and die together. I guess I'm Alaskan, my driver's license says my address is P.O. Box 707, Milepost 237.8 Park Highway, Denali, Alaska, so I must be or my address would be something like Hill Road. I know one thing for sure, I miss my wife and family, my friends, my home, my dog and laughter. Laughter is such a sweet nectur. When you have it, it is bland and clear, with no taste or odor, but when you don't have it there is such a need. I am a junky in need of a laughter fix in the owrst way. My eyes are dry, they have had no tears of laughter for such a long time - not the kind of laughter I remember from the Hill Road address. I will need to learn how to control this havit which I have had for so long, for I fear that I will find no fix here. But late at night I pretend that I am sleeping and I pretend I am driving, then I get the needle and syringe filled with laughter and take it all in - a high washes over me and I am covered in "think I should, wish you would, think I will" and my mouth moves left and right and up and down and on and on she goes - she never stops and laughter slips in under the covers and I am warm again. Last night I spent the whole night with the memories of laughter - with Linda and all the laughter we share - with my girls and great to-ta-too performances and tapioca seeds hunting and other schemes - with fun times spent with my son-in-law, Bill. The laughter of my friends I miss more than I could ever have imagined. Dave & Ron - Jude and the old boys - Charlie and Joe - Jimmy - Olie with his great belly laugh that go along with the stories of his granddaughters, which only he can tell - the Shriver boys. I miss our special kind of laughter on Saturday mornings with our pick-up games, our spring fling to Johns - that was a great fix for there was laughter from the time we left until the pretzel alphabet making on the way back, even though Purvis was the only one to see Z & S. And Tob. If Tob was here I would need no other fix because although we have laughed the deep laugh together for many, many years, laughter is not all that we share. As much as I miss that drug called laughter and as empty as it can feel inside at times, there is such a beauty and mystic about this place, with its Great Mountain, the glaciers, the grizzles and moose sleeping ten feet from my front door. I pray that the inspiring nature that envelops us in this magical place will sustain me for just 100 more days. . . .
Back to camp after my Toklet run today. This is not one of my favorite times - the room is small and dark - but I will put down today's events. I readied myself early today, I don't want to be rushed. This practice of punching a time clock is hard for me to get into the habit of doing. But if ever an old dog was to learn a new trick I guess it is me today. I leave the WAC with 22 soon to be new friends. I have a new job - I am now driving a big green bus - no more short bus stuff for this flatlander! I will go 68 miles into the park today. As my new friends climb aboard with their canvas tote bags and small backpacks - some with tinkerbell on the front, some with polar tech on them, some in camo pants and some in sweat pants. They all have that look of excitement and couresity, should we do this or not?? I have decided to tell them all that this is my first day and that I am very nervous. They all tend to look at me with just a little fear and this, I have discovered, gives me the upper hand. I can see it in their faces - are they sure they want to go through with this - but I have them - they have paid their good hard-earned money and they are on vacation. The security of their recliner can't save them now. They are mine and I will do with them as I please. So, I do as normal, I lie - and I do it with suvch honesty in my eyes that at first they laugh and then the look comes over them so the only thing for me to do is lie some more. Oh what pleasure this gives me, so into my tongue-tied speech I go. This adds a touch more of realisms and I hook them even more. But by the time I get to the part about no standing or hanging out the window, no smoking or drinking of alcoholic beverages and that all try tables must be in the upright and locked position, there comes a collective sign from all of the true believers.
This is my third trip on the big bus and I gain more confidence with each trip. My speal gets better with each trip. It is bright today with some clouds down low but the high one, I fear, will hide herself from me today. We press on - seven and a half hours out and back today with only one way in and one way out. A lynx has come to the road to hunt for snowshoe hares and I am lucky to be rounding the corner and he is sitting there. He is almost silver in color, its' guard hairs are tipped in black, a shaggy black streaked silver ruff frames its' oval face. Long delicate whiskers extend from either side of its pink nose and tufts top its' ears. This is a rare sighting, for the lunx is very elusive and hard to spot, but the snowshoe hare are in a boom cycle right now. This happens every eight to ten years. Their normal numbers are 25 to 50 per square mile but in this book cycle, their numbers are 2500 per square mile. Of all the creatures in Alaska, noe are more dependent on the rabbit than is the lynx. They live on rabbit, follows the rabbit, thinks rabbit, tastes like rabbit and increases in numbers with them. Failure to find them and the die of starvation. The law of good and plenty. Some of my new friends are shocked by my analagy, but then they are mostly city people - townies at best - and they have not the sense of the woods as I do. After all, I am Alaskan, for the next 100 days anyway, and with being Alaskan comes that deeper knowledge and understanding of how the animals and woods work and live and die together. I guess I'm Alaskan, my driver's license says my address is P.O. Box 707, Milepost 237.8 Park Highway, Denali, Alaska, so I must be or my address would be something like Hill Road. I know one thing for sure, I miss my wife and family, my friends, my home, my dog and laughter. Laughter is such a sweet nectur. When you have it, it is bland and clear, with no taste or odor, but when you don't have it there is such a need. I am a junky in need of a laughter fix in the owrst way. My eyes are dry, they have had no tears of laughter for such a long time - not the kind of laughter I remember from the Hill Road address. I will need to learn how to control this havit which I have had for so long, for I fear that I will find no fix here. But late at night I pretend that I am sleeping and I pretend I am driving, then I get the needle and syringe filled with laughter and take it all in - a high washes over me and I am covered in "think I should, wish you would, think I will" and my mouth moves left and right and up and down and on and on she goes - she never stops and laughter slips in under the covers and I am warm again. Last night I spent the whole night with the memories of laughter - with Linda and all the laughter we share - with my girls and great to-ta-too performances and tapioca seeds hunting and other schemes - with fun times spent with my son-in-law, Bill. The laughter of my friends I miss more than I could ever have imagined. Dave & Ron - Jude and the old boys - Charlie and Joe - Jimmy - Olie with his great belly laugh that go along with the stories of his granddaughters, which only he can tell - the Shriver boys. I miss our special kind of laughter on Saturday mornings with our pick-up games, our spring fling to Johns - that was a great fix for there was laughter from the time we left until the pretzel alphabet making on the way back, even though Purvis was the only one to see Z & S. And Tob. If Tob was here I would need no other fix because although we have laughed the deep laugh together for many, many years, laughter is not all that we share. As much as I miss that drug called laughter and as empty as it can feel inside at times, there is such a beauty and mystic about this place, with its Great Mountain, the glaciers, the grizzles and moose sleeping ten feet from my front door. I pray that the inspiring nature that envelops us in this magical place will sustain me for just 100 more days. . . .
Friday, June 22, 2007
Friday and a day off!
Didn't have a run today so it was back to the laundry. It is getting easier now that I have just about all my clothes the same color!! Talked to Linda this afternoon, she is excited to pick Hollie up tonight. Hollie and Bill will both be home during the next two weeks. Well here is some more of my writings. Hope all is going well with everyone. I miss you all.
. . . I am back from the road. It was not as I had hoped, for my speeches weren't needed, my knowledge of dates and places weren't needed, nor my speech on the rivers, creeks, mountains and the animals or the birds. I was sad most of the way in - but then it happened. The one question that they all ask and I had been ready since we started to answer it. I had practiced saying these words over and over. I was ripe with anticipation and skilled to the max. It would flow off my tongue as though I were an opera singer. "How long have you been doing this?" one of them asked, and the words rolled like a quarter out of an old slot machine ..."Well, let me see, my first trip down this road was in 2003".....then it was over. They wanted no more from me. I was good for only one thing - to get them to Tattler Creek. Now I know how the Sunday funnies feel when they have been read and put in the furnace room to be used to rap fish guts in after you return from your next fishing trip. All that practicing for just one half truth. I had so much to give and all they want to know is how long I've been doing this. So I took off my headset off when I see one of them noding off and another with his eyes closed. No, I said to myself, I won't even tell them I am Amish if they should ask later - they had blown it. There would be no sharp wit from me and the vast amount of knowledge that had been memorized. No names of rare birds that I had learned, no biology info that I had studied so hard on - and my Athabascan was perfect - now they wouldn't hear one word of it from me. I just drove and all I could think of was I am Amish, I am, and with a deep breath I said Teklanika like I was a true Alaskan. I thought, maybe they will sense just from the way I had said Teklanika that I was ripe with info on all matters of the universe and especially on the Park. So, with a renewed inner confidence, I put my headset back on and I was ready for anything that they would ask - except how to spell Teklanika!
A new dawn and todays morning was bright. The light that can sneak under the door shows a host of spruce needles and apen leaf bits that had globbed to the bottom of my wet shoes. They probably think that they're going to get to stay inside out of the weather, but I have news for them. I plan to take the Monahan to them when I get in tonight. It's been eleven days without water for anything - no showers close by - no bathrooms - people are getting sick with Norwak disease - but the water source is under 4 feet of ice and the ground under that is froze harder than a whore's heart. This March was the coldest ever on record, but my good luck, which seems to be following me so far, has brought warmer temperatures to this land. This sickness I will not get for I have the luck and a man with the luck has no fear of such things. This day holds great challenges for me for today is my day to break trail. I have rolled out early - ten till four - it will take me an hour and a half to get to where I can shower and get back. But that is ok for I have not slept well. The birds outside the window chirp their song of rest until about 1:30 a.m. and then start in again about 3:30 a.m. with their morning chirps. I don't think Illinois birds can work that many hours in a row with only 2 hours sleep. My thoughts have been on my first run into the wilderness - a place that is like no other on this earth. My babblings cannot describe my new place. I know why the sun will not go down, because it is just as awestruck as I am and doesn't want to stop looking at its beauty no more than I do. But the sun is bigger and stronger than I am so it can take in more of this place than I, for I cannot sleep for just two hours a day only to rise and look at this beauty for another day. I need sleep and my sleep of last night was short, just like that of the sun. IF??? If only I were as strong as the sun - oh, but I will work with what I've got and make the best of it. It is 7:00 a.m. and the wind is out of the south. I have this flutter in my belly. I have had it before and I know what it is. It's fear - a fear of the unknown and the fear of failure and the fear of embarrassment and the fear of being alone. I know the cure. I have opened my mouth and held my nose and licked the spoon clean of this cure before and I know what the name of the cure is - it is "youcandoit" So it's down the road I go and for the first part of the trail I am.........I am............I am............I don't know the words. If I did I could let them speak but they would be pale and drab in comparison to this place so I'll be silent. This place is touched with magic. This must be the part of heaven that God has said, "Ok, you can have a little peek." The farther I go the better the cure and I will put this fear back in my left pocket where I keep it, because in the left pocket it gets very few chances to escape for the left pocket never gets used. The road is dusty but it adds to the mystic of this place. Seventeen miles in as if it were no big deal and an almost white Momma grizzly and her year-old cub are digging for roots in a creek bed alongside the road. The cub is doing more dodging of the dirt and rocks that Momma is throwing. I think back to Bubba Sue & RJ digging in the ditch aside our road. One would dig and the other would stand behind and watch, blinking its eyes and trying to dodge the dirt that was being thrown between the legs of the other - and then they would switch places. And so did the grizzlies. They were no more than 30 yards off the road and they didn't even stop to look at this mover of people which had come to see them dig for dinner. So I whispered softly so that only their spirits could hear me. Not even I could hear my whisper. Only they would know my words - only they would know their meaning. Then, just as I whispered, they stopped digging, raised their heads and their tiny black eyes looked right at me and me only. I smiled all over because they understood we have corn planted behind the house. And this is just the first 17 of 120 miles to go.
. . . I am back from the road. It was not as I had hoped, for my speeches weren't needed, my knowledge of dates and places weren't needed, nor my speech on the rivers, creeks, mountains and the animals or the birds. I was sad most of the way in - but then it happened. The one question that they all ask and I had been ready since we started to answer it. I had practiced saying these words over and over. I was ripe with anticipation and skilled to the max. It would flow off my tongue as though I were an opera singer. "How long have you been doing this?" one of them asked, and the words rolled like a quarter out of an old slot machine ..."Well, let me see, my first trip down this road was in 2003".....then it was over. They wanted no more from me. I was good for only one thing - to get them to Tattler Creek. Now I know how the Sunday funnies feel when they have been read and put in the furnace room to be used to rap fish guts in after you return from your next fishing trip. All that practicing for just one half truth. I had so much to give and all they want to know is how long I've been doing this. So I took off my headset off when I see one of them noding off and another with his eyes closed. No, I said to myself, I won't even tell them I am Amish if they should ask later - they had blown it. There would be no sharp wit from me and the vast amount of knowledge that had been memorized. No names of rare birds that I had learned, no biology info that I had studied so hard on - and my Athabascan was perfect - now they wouldn't hear one word of it from me. I just drove and all I could think of was I am Amish, I am, and with a deep breath I said Teklanika like I was a true Alaskan. I thought, maybe they will sense just from the way I had said Teklanika that I was ripe with info on all matters of the universe and especially on the Park. So, with a renewed inner confidence, I put my headset back on and I was ready for anything that they would ask - except how to spell Teklanika!
A new dawn and todays morning was bright. The light that can sneak under the door shows a host of spruce needles and apen leaf bits that had globbed to the bottom of my wet shoes. They probably think that they're going to get to stay inside out of the weather, but I have news for them. I plan to take the Monahan to them when I get in tonight. It's been eleven days without water for anything - no showers close by - no bathrooms - people are getting sick with Norwak disease - but the water source is under 4 feet of ice and the ground under that is froze harder than a whore's heart. This March was the coldest ever on record, but my good luck, which seems to be following me so far, has brought warmer temperatures to this land. This sickness I will not get for I have the luck and a man with the luck has no fear of such things. This day holds great challenges for me for today is my day to break trail. I have rolled out early - ten till four - it will take me an hour and a half to get to where I can shower and get back. But that is ok for I have not slept well. The birds outside the window chirp their song of rest until about 1:30 a.m. and then start in again about 3:30 a.m. with their morning chirps. I don't think Illinois birds can work that many hours in a row with only 2 hours sleep. My thoughts have been on my first run into the wilderness - a place that is like no other on this earth. My babblings cannot describe my new place. I know why the sun will not go down, because it is just as awestruck as I am and doesn't want to stop looking at its beauty no more than I do. But the sun is bigger and stronger than I am so it can take in more of this place than I, for I cannot sleep for just two hours a day only to rise and look at this beauty for another day. I need sleep and my sleep of last night was short, just like that of the sun. IF??? If only I were as strong as the sun - oh, but I will work with what I've got and make the best of it. It is 7:00 a.m. and the wind is out of the south. I have this flutter in my belly. I have had it before and I know what it is. It's fear - a fear of the unknown and the fear of failure and the fear of embarrassment and the fear of being alone. I know the cure. I have opened my mouth and held my nose and licked the spoon clean of this cure before and I know what the name of the cure is - it is "youcandoit" So it's down the road I go and for the first part of the trail I am.........I am............I am............I don't know the words. If I did I could let them speak but they would be pale and drab in comparison to this place so I'll be silent. This place is touched with magic. This must be the part of heaven that God has said, "Ok, you can have a little peek." The farther I go the better the cure and I will put this fear back in my left pocket where I keep it, because in the left pocket it gets very few chances to escape for the left pocket never gets used. The road is dusty but it adds to the mystic of this place. Seventeen miles in as if it were no big deal and an almost white Momma grizzly and her year-old cub are digging for roots in a creek bed alongside the road. The cub is doing more dodging of the dirt and rocks that Momma is throwing. I think back to Bubba Sue & RJ digging in the ditch aside our road. One would dig and the other would stand behind and watch, blinking its eyes and trying to dodge the dirt that was being thrown between the legs of the other - and then they would switch places. And so did the grizzlies. They were no more than 30 yards off the road and they didn't even stop to look at this mover of people which had come to see them dig for dinner. So I whispered softly so that only their spirits could hear me. Not even I could hear my whisper. Only they would know my words - only they would know their meaning. Then, just as I whispered, they stopped digging, raised their heads and their tiny black eyes looked right at me and me only. I smiled all over because they understood we have corn planted behind the house. And this is just the first 17 of 120 miles to go.
Sunday, June 17, 2007
Happy Father's Day to all my buds
Greetings from Denali and a happy fathers day to all of you. It was chilly here this past week and I have caught a cold. Yesterday was warmer and I had a couple of days in a row off so I spent most of that time resting, trying to get better. The trips are going well, am able to wow most of my passengers just a little. I sure miss everyone and hope all is well in Illinois and Arizona. I talk to Linda just about every night and she is keeping me up to date on everyone. Thought I'd share some more of my writing with you.
Exerp #2:
May 22, 2007
It has been a long trip, my bones are weary and my thoughts are of all I have left behind to come to this place. There is such vastness and beauty that it can take my mind off of home and loved ones for awhile. It is hard to fathem how far I have come, but I look at my surroundings and in just the short time I have been here this place has come so far itself. The snow has gone and warm sun and blue skys have come from far to the south to start the summer. I tell myself that the warm wind is from my place, from my summer that I left behind, and it makes me feel like I have something to do with what is happening. Maybe it's just gas.
May 26, 2007
The warmth of spring was short lived. A stinging wind has come over Mt. Healy and the Sugar Loaf and it brings biting rain and sleet and a cold that is hard to get out of your body. It grips your skin and won't let go. It came with such furry that I feel it will never let go of me. The talk in camp is of new places for me, with names that are hard for me to remember and to say. They speak of these far off places with such reverancy and mystic that it makes me want to break trail for them. But one step outside and the cold wind and snow tell me to hold my ground and be paitent - I will see them soon. I busy myself with the names of all these new places and hide under my covers and practice saying these strange words. I want them to roll off my tongue with ease so I will not sound so strange. I need for them to sound as if I were at home and it was Gays, Charleston, Shelbyville, or Arcola that I was talking about and not Toklat or Teklanika or Kahiltna or Yentna. There is a newness of these words that I try so hard to say but that is not all that is new for me. There are the plants and the birds and the animals which are at every step I take and I don't know what to call them. At home I could say hello to the blue jay and the hummingbird and the cock pheasants that run through my backyard but here I can't call them by name to ask them how is your day and listen for them to speak their words. There is the Ptarmigan, which changes color from snow white in the winter to brown in the summer and the Mew Gull which is noisy and is looking for a handout all the time. There is the Wheatear which comes all the way from the coast of Asia to nest just outside my door. There is the golden Plover which comes from South America to find a mate and nest. When you think about that, then maybe I haven't come as far as I thought. If I were a Golden Plover I'd be finding a good looking parrot to mess around with.
May 28, 2007
A beam of sunlight has found a crack in my window covering and streems into my room. It's saying for me to get up and see what is in store for me today. Just as quick as the snow came, the sun has come out to say it is my turn now. A moose and her two just-born calves walk by my door just as I come out. The calves are still wabbaly on their freshly used legs. Momma gives me a look but goes on - she has been here before and feels no threat. This is a good place to have her young, down out of the high meadows where the grizzly are looking for food after a long sleep and her young bear cubs from last year are learning how to hunt for themselves. I speak to all that I see.
My cabin is small and uncomfortable - my bed is hard and the chair I sit on is no more than a plank of board nailed to a box and my butt is hurting. I have gone to sitting on my pillow and that helps. The room is only 12 x 12 and has two windows in the same corner. Just as it is for everyone else here too, my house - though modest - is unbelievable. My hallway to the bathroom is the Igloo Mountains, my driveway is Mt. Healy and my front street is the Nanana River, which is boiling with its banks full of snow melt and its water milky grey from the thousands of years of glaciers grinding away at the rock and mountains that are in their way. In my doleyard is that path to the White One and I only have to go down the path a short way to see her. It's better than going to Oz. Some days she will see you but most days she won't. She will, however, always let you see all the rest of Oz and her munchkins. All I have to do is follow the yellow brick road and believe me that is some path to have just ourside your house. All I have to do is remember not to pee in the path.
In a few days I will not be the stranger in camp. To all I meet they will be the strangers who have come to my new place. I will have lots to talk about with them and they will not know that I am just a flatlander who is not long in the land of the Big White One and my words will fill them with all that I have learned of this country, be it true or false, they will not know the difference. But I will try to be as truthful as I can, but I have a way of getting just a little colorful with some of my stories - and I will see that they are the better for it when they go back to their place of comfort, where their home is.
June 7, 2007
Today I make my first run with guests into the park. I had slept good the night before so I felt good. Up at 7:00, showered - we have water now - went to breakfast and had a big meal. I think it was the first time I have eaten that much since I arrived in camp. The one thing that is utmost on my mind is how many will I have that are new to the wilderness and will they be able to appreciate this trip as much as I do and will I remember all the facts and dates and say all the names of the places that I will take them to and will they want to hear what I know. Back in my room I start my welcome speech - I practice it over and over - then the safety speech. Then on down the line from Savage River to Teklanike and Tattle Creek, I try to visualize where I am as I move threw my speech, trying to say all I know about Primrose Ridge before reaching Igloo Pass. I don't want to back track, I am confused enough. I don't want the new arrivals to get confused and to go Eielsou and then back to Sanctuary and then to Polychrome. That will surely confuse them and me, too. The best thing I have going for me is that I've been up and down this road ten times in the last ten days and I've studied every landmark, stream, glacier valley and river that we will pass along the way and those riding along won't know north from south up here. I hope all that the old hands at this have told me is true, that all these people will want to know is where I am from and how long I have been doing this and do the rivers ever flood. I will answer all with as much truth as I think they will need to know. I wonder if anyone will ask me if I am Amish, like my hard working girls were asked all the time when working at Rockome. It could make for a good story if I did tell them I was Amish and that I just got my driving license. I am sure some would want a new driver, expecially once they see what the road is like at Polychrome. They will ask me if I've seen wildlife and I will tell them the wildlife is everywhere but it is hard for me to look for it and so if there are animals to be found today they will have to find them.. I will tell them there are no animals on the back of my head, so look out the windows and not at me. No searching the vast roadside for signs of the great grizzly or moose or eagles for me - now that I have a bus instead of my horse to get me home, I have to stay awake and keep my eyes on the road. . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Exerp #2:
May 22, 2007
It has been a long trip, my bones are weary and my thoughts are of all I have left behind to come to this place. There is such vastness and beauty that it can take my mind off of home and loved ones for awhile. It is hard to fathem how far I have come, but I look at my surroundings and in just the short time I have been here this place has come so far itself. The snow has gone and warm sun and blue skys have come from far to the south to start the summer. I tell myself that the warm wind is from my place, from my summer that I left behind, and it makes me feel like I have something to do with what is happening. Maybe it's just gas.
May 26, 2007
The warmth of spring was short lived. A stinging wind has come over Mt. Healy and the Sugar Loaf and it brings biting rain and sleet and a cold that is hard to get out of your body. It grips your skin and won't let go. It came with such furry that I feel it will never let go of me. The talk in camp is of new places for me, with names that are hard for me to remember and to say. They speak of these far off places with such reverancy and mystic that it makes me want to break trail for them. But one step outside and the cold wind and snow tell me to hold my ground and be paitent - I will see them soon. I busy myself with the names of all these new places and hide under my covers and practice saying these strange words. I want them to roll off my tongue with ease so I will not sound so strange. I need for them to sound as if I were at home and it was Gays, Charleston, Shelbyville, or Arcola that I was talking about and not Toklat or Teklanika or Kahiltna or Yentna. There is a newness of these words that I try so hard to say but that is not all that is new for me. There are the plants and the birds and the animals which are at every step I take and I don't know what to call them. At home I could say hello to the blue jay and the hummingbird and the cock pheasants that run through my backyard but here I can't call them by name to ask them how is your day and listen for them to speak their words. There is the Ptarmigan, which changes color from snow white in the winter to brown in the summer and the Mew Gull which is noisy and is looking for a handout all the time. There is the Wheatear which comes all the way from the coast of Asia to nest just outside my door. There is the golden Plover which comes from South America to find a mate and nest. When you think about that, then maybe I haven't come as far as I thought. If I were a Golden Plover I'd be finding a good looking parrot to mess around with.
May 28, 2007
A beam of sunlight has found a crack in my window covering and streems into my room. It's saying for me to get up and see what is in store for me today. Just as quick as the snow came, the sun has come out to say it is my turn now. A moose and her two just-born calves walk by my door just as I come out. The calves are still wabbaly on their freshly used legs. Momma gives me a look but goes on - she has been here before and feels no threat. This is a good place to have her young, down out of the high meadows where the grizzly are looking for food after a long sleep and her young bear cubs from last year are learning how to hunt for themselves. I speak to all that I see.
My cabin is small and uncomfortable - my bed is hard and the chair I sit on is no more than a plank of board nailed to a box and my butt is hurting. I have gone to sitting on my pillow and that helps. The room is only 12 x 12 and has two windows in the same corner. Just as it is for everyone else here too, my house - though modest - is unbelievable. My hallway to the bathroom is the Igloo Mountains, my driveway is Mt. Healy and my front street is the Nanana River, which is boiling with its banks full of snow melt and its water milky grey from the thousands of years of glaciers grinding away at the rock and mountains that are in their way. In my doleyard is that path to the White One and I only have to go down the path a short way to see her. It's better than going to Oz. Some days she will see you but most days she won't. She will, however, always let you see all the rest of Oz and her munchkins. All I have to do is follow the yellow brick road and believe me that is some path to have just ourside your house. All I have to do is remember not to pee in the path.
In a few days I will not be the stranger in camp. To all I meet they will be the strangers who have come to my new place. I will have lots to talk about with them and they will not know that I am just a flatlander who is not long in the land of the Big White One and my words will fill them with all that I have learned of this country, be it true or false, they will not know the difference. But I will try to be as truthful as I can, but I have a way of getting just a little colorful with some of my stories - and I will see that they are the better for it when they go back to their place of comfort, where their home is.
June 7, 2007
Today I make my first run with guests into the park. I had slept good the night before so I felt good. Up at 7:00, showered - we have water now - went to breakfast and had a big meal. I think it was the first time I have eaten that much since I arrived in camp. The one thing that is utmost on my mind is how many will I have that are new to the wilderness and will they be able to appreciate this trip as much as I do and will I remember all the facts and dates and say all the names of the places that I will take them to and will they want to hear what I know. Back in my room I start my welcome speech - I practice it over and over - then the safety speech. Then on down the line from Savage River to Teklanike and Tattle Creek, I try to visualize where I am as I move threw my speech, trying to say all I know about Primrose Ridge before reaching Igloo Pass. I don't want to back track, I am confused enough. I don't want the new arrivals to get confused and to go Eielsou and then back to Sanctuary and then to Polychrome. That will surely confuse them and me, too. The best thing I have going for me is that I've been up and down this road ten times in the last ten days and I've studied every landmark, stream, glacier valley and river that we will pass along the way and those riding along won't know north from south up here. I hope all that the old hands at this have told me is true, that all these people will want to know is where I am from and how long I have been doing this and do the rivers ever flood. I will answer all with as much truth as I think they will need to know. I wonder if anyone will ask me if I am Amish, like my hard working girls were asked all the time when working at Rockome. It could make for a good story if I did tell them I was Amish and that I just got my driving license. I am sure some would want a new driver, expecially once they see what the road is like at Polychrome. They will ask me if I've seen wildlife and I will tell them the wildlife is everywhere but it is hard for me to look for it and so if there are animals to be found today they will have to find them.. I will tell them there are no animals on the back of my head, so look out the windows and not at me. No searching the vast roadside for signs of the great grizzly or moose or eagles for me - now that I have a bus instead of my horse to get me home, I have to stay awake and keep my eyes on the road. . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Monday, June 11, 2007
Training is over!
Greetings to all,
Happy Birthday, Hollie!!
The training, studying and tests are over and I have made a few runs with tourists and got them back in one piece. Have done laundry twice now and I don't care what anyone says, you can wash your socks with your jeans.
I've been pondering writing a book about this summer and so I will send exerps from my writings from time to time. I won't send the entire thing because I want you to buy my book. Ha-ha. (And by the way, girls, I think I have caught on to spellchecking a blog!!)
Exert No. 1
The first night went fast. The sun was still high in the sky at 11:00 p.m. but I tried to get some sleep. I turned over every hour to check the clock, you know how it is when you are afraid you will oversleep. It is quiet but the room was hot, just like all rooms are in Alaska. There is an old oscillating fan on an ornate stand, which makes it look old - but it doesn't have any creaks and doesn't have any rhythm like an old fan would have. It cooled the room enough so that I could cat nap. I saw 2:00 a.m., then 3:00 then 4:00 and finally at 5:00 and the alarm went off - that's when I wanted to turn over and go back to sleep and dream of great adventures of gold strikes and hunting parties and dog sled racing with teams of huskies through deep snow. But I had to go pee so up I got, turned on the shower and turned off the alarm. Got my shower and got dressed, but I think I should have savored my shower a lot longer because it will be my last good shower for some time I fear. But such is life. It was 6:00 and the continental breakfast was on so I went for the first waffle of the day, but I didn't do it right and the desk clerk had to show me how to make Alaska waffles. I think it was the only one made that day because I think I was the only one staying at the hotel. One quick waffle and an apple to go and breakfast was over. 6:15 and I headed for the convention center where everyone is to meet at 6:30 and we are off and gone on the trail to Denali. This is how I remember it, in my way: Everyone is anxious to get going and all have great anticipation of what is to come. It has rained a warm rain for the last three nights and the sun has been high and bright in the blue sky with the temperature getting up in the middle 60's and made the snow on the flats melt and the trail will fall out soon. But we mush on. The going is hard but we all know what is at the end of the trail. We make 49 miles and everyone is in good spirits, talking to all their new friends, finding all about them. The sun is high and bright and everyone is feeling real good. Before you know it, we have made it all the way to Trapper Creek so we decide to take a little rest at the weigh station. There is a store at Trapper Creek and all are in favor of stopping so that they can stock up on some last minute provisions to last us for the rest of today's journey. Only a short stop and it's back on the trail. The farther we go down into the valley the less snow there is and the more you can see the signs that spring is coming. There is a green tint to the trees, which give the ground its hint of green as well. The birch and the aspen are showing their tiny leaves that shimmer in the sun like fishing lures going through the water of a crystal clear lake. The spruce, the pine and the hemlock have all lifted their bows toward the sun with the new green tips holding their heads up as if to say "come on, spring, hit me, I am ready." The rivers have opened their doors from being shut by winter's icy grip and beacon for the river people to don their ores and red vests and slide down their fast, rippling tops. It is now 12:00 and time to stop. All have been quiet for some time now, after saying all they could say to someone they don't know. We have reached Ryley Creek and this water says come on down and ride me - it is a fast trip down to where we will spend the night. Some want to take the fast waters to camp but it will not be safe for the tenderfoots to ride the fast gray water - for somewhere down river there will be sheets of ice on top of the water in a small dip in the river and it can be 100 feet or more long and no way to stop because the river runs much faster under the ice and will take all that come down her under. 100 yards in that 30 degree water will suck the life out of a man and if you make it through the first one there will be another and another until your lungs are full of water and the warm spring air you can no longer feel on your body. There is a grumbling in the group - some call for the water and its speed and some don't. We stop for a rest at Jackson Creek. The grumbling is louder amongst the group and finally they all talk and it is decided someone needs to turn down the radio. It's too loud...........
Leaves you hungry for more doesn't it!!??!!
I'm fine - this place is great - seeing a lot of wildlife - hope to send pictures soon - I MISS YOU ALL - blog me soon
My mailing address here is: Monty Carpenter, P.O. Box 707, Milepost 237.8 Park Highway, Denali, Alaska 99755.
Happy Birthday, Hollie!!
The training, studying and tests are over and I have made a few runs with tourists and got them back in one piece. Have done laundry twice now and I don't care what anyone says, you can wash your socks with your jeans.
I've been pondering writing a book about this summer and so I will send exerps from my writings from time to time. I won't send the entire thing because I want you to buy my book. Ha-ha. (And by the way, girls, I think I have caught on to spellchecking a blog!!)
Exert No. 1
The first night went fast. The sun was still high in the sky at 11:00 p.m. but I tried to get some sleep. I turned over every hour to check the clock, you know how it is when you are afraid you will oversleep. It is quiet but the room was hot, just like all rooms are in Alaska. There is an old oscillating fan on an ornate stand, which makes it look old - but it doesn't have any creaks and doesn't have any rhythm like an old fan would have. It cooled the room enough so that I could cat nap. I saw 2:00 a.m., then 3:00 then 4:00 and finally at 5:00 and the alarm went off - that's when I wanted to turn over and go back to sleep and dream of great adventures of gold strikes and hunting parties and dog sled racing with teams of huskies through deep snow. But I had to go pee so up I got, turned on the shower and turned off the alarm. Got my shower and got dressed, but I think I should have savored my shower a lot longer because it will be my last good shower for some time I fear. But such is life. It was 6:00 and the continental breakfast was on so I went for the first waffle of the day, but I didn't do it right and the desk clerk had to show me how to make Alaska waffles. I think it was the only one made that day because I think I was the only one staying at the hotel. One quick waffle and an apple to go and breakfast was over. 6:15 and I headed for the convention center where everyone is to meet at 6:30 and we are off and gone on the trail to Denali. This is how I remember it, in my way: Everyone is anxious to get going and all have great anticipation of what is to come. It has rained a warm rain for the last three nights and the sun has been high and bright in the blue sky with the temperature getting up in the middle 60's and made the snow on the flats melt and the trail will fall out soon. But we mush on. The going is hard but we all know what is at the end of the trail. We make 49 miles and everyone is in good spirits, talking to all their new friends, finding all about them. The sun is high and bright and everyone is feeling real good. Before you know it, we have made it all the way to Trapper Creek so we decide to take a little rest at the weigh station. There is a store at Trapper Creek and all are in favor of stopping so that they can stock up on some last minute provisions to last us for the rest of today's journey. Only a short stop and it's back on the trail. The farther we go down into the valley the less snow there is and the more you can see the signs that spring is coming. There is a green tint to the trees, which give the ground its hint of green as well. The birch and the aspen are showing their tiny leaves that shimmer in the sun like fishing lures going through the water of a crystal clear lake. The spruce, the pine and the hemlock have all lifted their bows toward the sun with the new green tips holding their heads up as if to say "come on, spring, hit me, I am ready." The rivers have opened their doors from being shut by winter's icy grip and beacon for the river people to don their ores and red vests and slide down their fast, rippling tops. It is now 12:00 and time to stop. All have been quiet for some time now, after saying all they could say to someone they don't know. We have reached Ryley Creek and this water says come on down and ride me - it is a fast trip down to where we will spend the night. Some want to take the fast waters to camp but it will not be safe for the tenderfoots to ride the fast gray water - for somewhere down river there will be sheets of ice on top of the water in a small dip in the river and it can be 100 feet or more long and no way to stop because the river runs much faster under the ice and will take all that come down her under. 100 yards in that 30 degree water will suck the life out of a man and if you make it through the first one there will be another and another until your lungs are full of water and the warm spring air you can no longer feel on your body. There is a grumbling in the group - some call for the water and its speed and some don't. We stop for a rest at Jackson Creek. The grumbling is louder amongst the group and finally they all talk and it is decided someone needs to turn down the radio. It's too loud...........
Leaves you hungry for more doesn't it!!??!!
I'm fine - this place is great - seeing a lot of wildlife - hope to send pictures soon - I MISS YOU ALL - blog me soon
My mailing address here is: Monty Carpenter, P.O. Box 707, Milepost 237.8 Park Highway, Denali, Alaska 99755.
Sunday, May 27, 2007
May 27 2007
Hievery one the traningis unbelivable 7:00 till 6:00 I have so much to try to keep strat
and lern but I am doing verey well. Today was our first bid day and I was the last to bid but I
got a run it is on Thursday Jun 7 I will be going in about 34 mills if you wont to see where I am
going look up Polychrome and see if you can get some photos of what it looks like. the computers
here are so slow it takes for ever to get info out to you and I have not hade time but I have been
doing soom wrighting and when I get through traning I will inter my days thoughts wehter has
been verey warm but today it was coold and a light rain need to go study it is 7:30 and I need to
get to bed by 11:00
Love to all
and stay tunded I will get you some good stuff
Humboldt Flatlander In Alaska
and lern but I am doing verey well. Today was our first bid day and I was the last to bid but I
got a run it is on Thursday Jun 7 I will be going in about 34 mills if you wont to see where I am
going look up Polychrome and see if you can get some photos of what it looks like. the computers
here are so slow it takes for ever to get info out to you and I have not hade time but I have been
doing soom wrighting and when I get through traning I will inter my days thoughts wehter has
been verey warm but today it was coold and a light rain need to go study it is 7:30 and I need to
get to bed by 11:00
Love to all
and stay tunded I will get you some good stuff
Humboldt Flatlander In Alaska
Wednesday, May 23, 2007
may 23 2007
Training is all day and a lot of it just have a little time to say ok so far but the time thing is hard to get use to got to get to class be hind the whell to start today
love you all
love you all
Saturday, May 19, 2007
May 19 2007 Humboldt FlatLander
Last night at home I think I have figured out how to get to my blog I have asked ever one who should know
but no one can tell me how to aksess it but if you go to Google and sign in then type and click on to the blog
ikon's then type my e-mail address .
then type bubbasue in for a password you will see Humboldt Flat lander In Alaska that is my BLOG .
I hope that is how it works. Need to go in and took with mike for I wont see him for 4 mouth.
but no one can tell me how to aksess it but if you go to Google and sign in then type and click on to the blog
ikon's then type my e-mail address .
then type bubbasue in for a password you will see Humboldt Flat lander In Alaska that is my BLOG .
I hope that is how it works. Need to go in and took with mike for I wont see him for 4 mouth.
Friday, May 18, 2007
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