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. . . . . . . . . . . . . .