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. . . .