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Last night was eerie. It gets so incredibly black here at night, you could barely see your own hand in front of your face. It was raining slightly but the winds had picked up and were whistling everything outside of the windows or in the kitchen vents. Anchorage and Southeast alaska was on a high wind advisory for 90 mph winds. Not sure what they reached here but the power went out all over southeast Alaska. Tonight, as the sun was creeping behind the large rock face mountain across from the lodge, we decided to finish the hike. We mentioned to someone at the lodge that we were headed up the mountain, and headed out. Up the driveway, across the Glenn highway, and up in to the start of the hike we get a phone call from the owner of the lodge that they had clearly just seen a huge black bear on the mountain (without using binoculars) and that we need to head back. We did. We decided to cut through the brush on the far side close to the highway to see the running brook there but immediately found a large parcel of bear scat and once again turned away. Words cant describe how excited I am to sleep at night or go walking without being on alert. We leave in 4 days!

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Since I last wrote I/we have:

-Aced Chemistry! Yay!

-Gone Whitewater Rafting over glacial waters

-Pet Reindeer 

-Seen more Moose/mooselings

-Taken the ATV’s out further than before and up a big mountain

-Gone Flightseeing in a tiny Jet craft from the 60′s

-Cooked for more weddings

-Visited Americas largest national park

-Yelled at birds terrorizing our trailer

-Taken the abandoned Majestic Valley Bus down the Glenn Highway to tell it farewell as it is becoming the new office for the air service behind us

and more to name a few. Now that I am officially done with chemistry I can work more on updating this blog and keeping the pictures coming. I am too tired now with too much to do. But I am so so happy to be done with chemistry, and to have < 1 month left of being in Alaska!

Maria and her first ATV ride

Accidentally breaking bad my trailer life

Petting reindeer swarm and loving it

One of the things that struck me the deepest during flightseeing over the glaciers was that the glaciers had fingerprints and lines like an old, old, woman

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And I walked off you, and I walked off an old me.

"The music, in a lot of ways, reflects this meditative quality I get from hiking and dancing. They're two polar opposite things when you're thinking about them from a distance. With one, you're alone in the middle of nature. The other involves loud music and groups of people. But my experiences with both of them in the last three years have turned them into a mental health thing, a grounding process. I think about them in the same way. They're the most ancient, primal release. When I had been hiking in summers after Alaska, I had been creating a natural sample bank of birds, noises. A good chunk of the rhythm in the song started from me just patting a rhythm on my jeans. That sample is the main rhythm. Me snapping in a room. I wanted to make dance music, or pop music, feel as human as possible."[4] She also talked about the artwork for the single, saying "the artwork is from my time in Alaska—that's me in the red. It's funny, the 24 hours leading up to that photo were miserable. It had been raining for days straight, it was super foggy. We were having trouble navigating. We were in two different groups, separated from our friends. But that morning, everybody found each other and we cooked this big feast of pancakes and macaroni and cheese. Then the sun came up. We were in this glacial basin where there was this pool, essentially, and we hadn't seen any body of water like that. Nothing with that sort of volume. My best friend took that photo of me as we were getting water to cook the food [Laughs]. It seemed like the only appropriate way to represent the music."[4] 

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It’s been a little while since I’ve written, and I apologize for “going dark” on everyone. At last moment, I decided to start an online Chemistry class through the SUNY system and it has eaten up an enormous amount of brain power, money, emotional energy  and personal time. It’s a general, organic, and biochemistry course all rolled in to one, and because of there not being any pre-reqs I thought it would be a lighter class with only introductions to the topics at hand. Oh boy, I was wrong. The course is less than 5 weeks long and I’ve already been spending my time speed teaching myself molecular and nuclear chemistry equations on the fly while the chaos of wedding prep, housekeeping, guests checking in, dinner cooking etc has been going on around me.  I also spent a lot of time panicking, thinking I’m not smart enough, chastising myself for never learning proper math foundations in school, and wondering when to drop the class until I thrust myself in to proper gear and started really learning. I feel that sometimes I don’t give myself the proper credit for what I’ve been able to accomplish, for who I am, or for what I’m capable of and that has led me to stay in places, start programs, or take jobs that are smaller than what I am, or not what I really want to do. Herkimer was a big wake up call, it wasn’t right for me, and I knew it. I have nothing against the people who are going, the school, the teachers or what that program is setting out to do, but after going to Syracuse, grad school, and travelling a fair amount- I was shriveling there. I was also grappling with the idea of what kind of person staying in a place, and attending a program I really didn’t want to be a part of for two years would make me. Everyone makes sacrifices, everyone has to discipline themselves at times, I understand that. But I didn’t want to force myself to settle for something less than, when I already have two degrees. I did not want to grow bitter like an old fruit, or lay myself down in silent resolution to the fates before me as though someone facing a firing squad. These analogies are dramatic, but when we accept unhappiness or less than for so long, when we are capable of more, we cannot pretend to stay in entirely intact.

Alaska has been good because it is still my “jumping off” point. I am up here at what feels like the end of the world, and I still have so much beyond me. After spending weeks inside of a cloud that obscures all else, inside the lodge while rain beats falls as listless as it does endlessly, inside the trailer looking in to a barely visible thicket of wet greenery from a foggy window, inside the cold winds as I walk from place to place with the sound of gravel underfoot- the sun has finally won over the great beast of these mountains. It is glorious. To you all, who are having a hot summer, who are sweating in your seats, or nestling near the air conditioner it might be hard to appreciate the first breath of afternoon air permeated by golden sunlight, the feeling of renewal it brings, or the joy of simply walking outside and desiring to keep walking. But it’s here, and I am thankful. I’ve been plagued by strange dreams for the past two nights, and I wake up in a daze of unfamiliarity. I won’t go in to detail about them here, but my dreams are and have always been sacred to me. They give me insight and a knowing of wading through the unconscious waters and of bringing to light that inner darkness, and a returning to myself. Not darkness as in bad, or evil, but the kind of darkness one stands in before flicking on a light, watching the first flames spring to life, or a ray of sun start touching the distant skies. In alchemy (which incidentally is why we have the field of modern chemistry,) this is called Prima Materia, meaning the original substance or origin of the universe. When I’ve had these soul dreams, I wake up and feel like I’ve been to the origins of myself. Afterwards, I am really with myself, to deconstruct, to analyze, to feel, or simply to accept in wonderment what I am left with when I am left with the ghosts of these dreams, the way one would still have the memory of someone’s presence when they slip unexpectedly through a doorway, and out of sight.

I aced my first chemistry exam. I have the next two days off. I’ve got plenty of work for chemistry to do. I feel grateful to learn a new subject, a harder subject, and one that will allow me to do both healthcare programs or isotopic analysis if I want to continue the study of anthropology later on. I am still travelling through that path of possibility, of doing a short, career centered program and using that as a resource to not have to worry about an income, benefits, or insurance and using it as a platform to continue to study the things I am truly passionate about. My curiosities might rest in antiquity, the earth in an undiscovered site, below those great pyramids, or an unmarked sand dune in the desert, but my feet are still planted firmly on the ground. When I look back, I am not afraid of or ashamed of my failures. I am not embarrassed of them. I am not shrouded with anxiety of the times I admitted that I took on too much, or stepped away to gain clarity. I am terrified of the pivotal moments, the times that I had a choice and almost gave up pursuing the things I truly wanted, because I was ready to accept failure without even trying first. I am terrified of the moments I stepped away and was ready to accept a mediocrity that wasn’t for me, like the memory of being on a ledge too high and almost stepping off in blind ignorance. When I was 16 and living at 560, I wrote on my door those most poignant of Mary Oliver’s words:

“When it’s over, I want to say: all my life I was a bride married to amazement. I was the bridegroom, taking the world into my arms.”

and almost a decade later, I still feel that way, still say those words to myself like one would a prayer. Still returning to myself after a potent dream. Still striving forward and weaving my life from inner threads. I think I am getting exactly what I wanted out of Alaska. Here is the full poem:

When Death Comes by Mary Oliver

When death comes like the hungry bear in autumn; when death comes and takes all the bright coins from his purse

to buy me, and snaps the purse shut; when death comes like the measles-pox;

when death comes like an iceberg between the shoulder blades,

I want to step through the door full of curiosity, wondering: what is it going to be like, that cottage of darkness?

And therefore I look upon everything as a brotherhood and a sisterhood, and I look upon time as no more than an idea, and I consider eternity as another possibility,

and I think of each life as a flower, as common as a field daisy, and as singular,

and each name a comfortable music in the mouth tending as all music does, toward silence,

and each body a lion of courage, and something precious to the earth.

When it’s over, I want to say: all my life I was a bride married to amazement. I was the bridegroom, taking the world into my arms.

When it is over, I don’t want to wonder if I have made of my life something particular, and real. I don’t want to find myself sighing and frightened, or full of argument.

I don’t want to end up simply having visited this world.

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Water, Water, Everywhere!

 Since the last posting it had continued to rain day and night. A few notable things happened around our area: 1. A man driving a pickup and wearing a seat belt died on the highway down the road because he went in to the trees, 2. An entire house got eaten by the Matanuska River (to be fair, this was a long time coming) https://www.adn.com/alaska-news/mat-su/2017/07/05/a-house-falling-into-the-matanuska-river-captured-on-video/ , and 3. the creek bed across the street coming down the mountain flooded out because of the rain, and a massive mudslide went through the mountain and covered our neighbors property with 6 foot deep landslide http://www.ktva.com/mudslide-carries-cars-near-sheep-mountain-lodge-370/ . I looked up how to stay safe during a mud slide. Spoiler alert: you don’t.  Yesterday a huge volcano also erupted so now there’s a huge ash cloud and airplanes have to go around it to make it to Alaska from certain places. This place is crazy…

Yesterday and the day before were wedding days and although it was a huge wedding, everything went so smoothly. We worked 13 hours straight without stopping (not mandated by the employer by any means) and were rewarded with red wine, a hot shower, and a good night of sleep. Yes! Just now, I bought our tickets to Hawaii. We will leave for Hawaii on September 10th, and stay for two weeks and head to Syracuse on the 25th of September to visit everyone before checking out Pittsburgh. Although I hate forking over the cash, we bought travel insurance as always. Travel is wonderful but you have to keep in mind that the disruptions are part of the game. If my writing isn’t particularly eloquent at the moment its because I’m listening to Shania Twain blasting and its hard to think over the noise.

The sun came out for a little bit this afternoon for the first time in what feels like forever. However, fresh rain is supposed to sweep across the valleys tomorrow, and it’s already cloudy and grey out. It’s still quite chilly here and I wear hoodies and jackets. Honolulu will be really nice. I’m so excited to see Jess.

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It still rains all the time

Bear trash

Walking to our trailer home^

Where to begin since I last wrote? First and foremost, I forgot Brian’s birthday! I feel so guilty. I got so caught up this month with all our activities that it slipped my mind and he didn’t tell me until I was falling asleep last night. Doh! It’s the day after the fourth, and the 4th was spent watching cars launched off a cliff at Arnies in Glacier View. I had always imagined that we would be watching the cars launched from the top of the cliff, not the bottom. I definitely did not feel safe but it was a once in a life time thing to watch…hopefully. So, I just kept moving backwards with each car. I was told they were supposed to fly parallel down the cliff but the first car launched straight in to the air towards me and I jumped so quickly I almost knocked a little boy down the dirt pile some of us were sitting on. Here is a video of another 

year: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KbMYzMUu06Q

Brian and I also made a trip to visit my old housemate from 560, Andrew, in Talkeetna. He looks so healthy now and is a rafting guide on the river there. He took us rafting down the Talkeetna River and it was amazing. I have never rafted before, let alone on a deadly river. The river itself was brown and murky, you can’t see the bottom and if you were to fall in you would have to ensure that your foot doesn’t touch the bottom because it could be buried and then you would simply drown. He showed us the first rope to grab after falling over and called it the “oh shit” rope. After that, he showed us another safety device were the first one to fail, called the “oh fuck” rope. Luckily, we didn’t need either. We took a path down the river that he has only taken once and isn’t usually allowed to take. It was gorgeous. So wild, and quiet. We didn’t see a single person forever. We did see a beaver dam, and I saw my first bald eagle perched above the tree tops. We stopped at Denali Brewing pub and had a couple delicious beers. Talkeetna overlooks Denali, and is the jumping off point for visitors to the mountain. It’s also the town that the show Northern Exposure it based off. I saw Denali but it took me a while to really see it. We stood at the foot of the raging river before Andrew had gotten off work and stared at the tall black mountains in the distance. It took me a while to realize that the white clouds above those black mountains weren’t actually clouds at all, but was Denali towering taller than I could have ever imaged over the others. Talkeetna was about a 3 hour drive to the west and north of us and on the way back we counted 11 moose on the road.

We also made another day trip to the town of Valdez. It’s a fishing village and known for its oil industry. Valdez is about 3 hours in the opposite direction of Talkeetna. The drive, and views were simply some of the best of my life. We didn’t google any images or look up Valdez before taking off so we were wholly unprepared for the splendor we were in for. The highway going in to Valdez is recognized as one of Americas most scenic highways, and rightly so. It was jaw droppingly, tear formingly, take your breath away enchantment. Imagine the tallest, greenest mountains you possibly can. Now magnify that times ten. Now imagine driving through the valley of them, the winding roads, the feel of sunshine on your face. The mountains would have waterfalls springing off the sides down the mountain, or a glacier protruding from behind. Some had snow piles dotting them like cow patterns. Others had huge caves. I almost cried. I wish I could have captured it in my camera but anything but being there fails enormously. It was like driving through the Scottish highlands, the Swiss alps, Alaskan glaciers, and Icelands countryside all at once. I have stood on the cliffen shores of Barbados and watched the Caribbean Sea melt in to oblivion at sunset, I have watched black volcanic waters on the gulf of Mexico melt in to crystal ocean, I have summited Haleakala volcano in Hawaii, watched the sun roll over the Midwestern deserts at high noon, climbed pyramids on misty mornings in the jungle, seen such beautiful things and yet- this highway dwarfed all of them in one drive. It was the prettiest place I have been and I’m so thankful for the journey. 

 Valdez itself was on the backdrop of these mornings, and infront of Prince William Sound seashores, making it beautiful to see. I could never imagine living there though. We stopped at the Safeway to get some lunch and it was a square concrete building attached to a liquor store where the homeless were congregating. The Safeway itself was so crowded you could hardly move through the aisles of absurdly priced merchandise, and many different languages were being spoken among the obvious poor of the town. At one point, a huge tall tattooed woman looked at me and said “I swear to god if people don’t get the fuck out of my way I am going to freak the fuck out” and I simply moved along. We walked down to the docks and saw that the water was glacier colored. Silver and blue and green. Like green lakes if it was opaque. We didn’t love the town and left almost immediately after putting air in the tires and gas in the tank. This was necessary because there are no other towns for hours. This is not a picture that I took, but is of the highway I mentioned, to give you some idea of the scale: 

Last night there was a rainbow to end all raindbows in our backyard. It was so huge I couldn’t fit it in one picture without using a panorama setting on my phone. It was so vibrant as well. It stretched across the mountains, the river, and through the whole of Majestic Valley.

I’ve been reading a lot since getting here and that has been great. I downloaded a ton of books on to my kindle and started reading The Count of Monte Cristo, which is now one of my all-time favorites. I didn’t realize how long it was when I started and by the time it was over it was around 1500 pages. It’s not as “feel good” as an ending as the movie, but the plotting is diabolical and the writing very clever. After that, I read “The Call of the Wild” and it was awesome. I always assumed it was about some dude, not a kidnapped dog named Buck. I then read Jack London’s second book along that vein which is called “White Fang.” I didn’t love that one. Now I’ve started reading Brian “The Women Who Run with the Wolves” out loud because the myths inside this book make it one of my all-time favorites. For myself, I’ve started reading “White Trash: the 400-Year-Old Untold Story of Class in America” and it is really stunning. I didn’t realize it had just come out this summer. Some of my favorite books have been revisionist history like “A People’s History of the United States,” “1492,” or “Lies My Teacher Told Me” and this fits right along with those. 

 I still don’t know where I’m going next but I am trying to start planning. I know I/we will be visiting Jess in Honolulu! Yay! The flight from anchorage is only about 6 hours. I have started updating my resume, and looking for jobs in both Pittsburgh and Honolulu.  I’ve also been looking in to schools in both places, and ordered flashcards, a TEAS entrance exam study guide, and some other learning materials to begin prepping. I’m so excited to learn and continue my education. I am also excited to settle down somewhere for a while. I cannot elaborate how grateful I am for the year I have had so far. 25 has truly been a gift for me to hit the “reset” button in my life. I wasn’t happy being in Syracuse, or working in the ghetto, or feeling stunted intellectually, professionally, or emotionally by a place I had wanted to leave for so long. Now, I have been travelling for 5 months. 5 months since I was with the people I love. 5 months since I have seen the upstate countryside, which I do miss terribly. I am so so grateful for all of the wonderful things I have been able to experience this year, the places I have gone, the people I have met, the opportunities I have had. Now- I am ready to settle in and get really cozy somewhere. I miss having my own bed. I miss having a dresser. I miss having a bidet. I miss all of my clothing. I miss having a couch. I miss having somewhere to go to have privacy from the world. I miss having the internet where I sleep. I miss Netflix. I miss my family. I miss my friends. I miss all of the amazing new York women I know. I am not necessarily homesick for Syracuse- because it doesn’t feel like my home. I’m homesick for a home, and I have to figure out how to make it somewhere.

hair is finally growing out.

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Quaerens Quem Devoret

I woke up this morning a few moments ago to a loud bang, and as I was laying in bed trying to place the sound, we got a knock on our trailer. Mark, the owner of the lodge was standing outside with the two dogs, waiving a .44 revolver in his hands and telling us that he just shot a huge black bear in the face with a shotgun in the gravel driveway. It rolled over, got up, and booked it without leaving a blood trail to follow. He told us to carry our Counter Assault Bear Spray he gave me yesterday, and to keep a knife on us as well. “This thing was huge” he said. The gunshot sounded like a large pan hitting another large pan. I think the reason I couldn’t place it was because the Syracuse gunshots normally sound like “pop, pop” to me. Would still take waking up in Bear Country to working in the ghetto of Syracuse any day. Well, time for coffee!

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A few moments ago, my phone was on its last little charge and I decided to try and locate my charger. Thinking it was in the trailer, I put on my crocs and rain jacket and headed out of the lodge towards the trailer. I took a moment to watch the mountains through a slit in the sky, and then took off running to the trailer. “I can run,” I told myself “I don’t have to be paranoid about the predatory instincts of bears.” The phone charger wasn’t at the trailer so I immediately left and started pondering if it was at the Fireweed staff cabin, when I heard a succession of voices and dogs barking. Brian called me over harshly and told me a Grizzly Bear was wondering around the property and had just walked behind Fireweed and was headed up towards the trailer. One of the staffers at Glacier Hall had watched it mulling around the property and called to alert our attention. After watching a video she took, I think it may be a Brown Bear instead of a Grizzly as I didn’t see a hump on its neck. However, this marks the third god damn bear that has been on the property (that we know of) so far. We have had the Black Bear, the Grizzly, and now the Brown Bear. It is currently wandering around somewhere in the fog. The owner, Jodi, once again said to me that she hasn’t seen a bear on this property in 13 years. Nope! Brian looked at me in the kitchen and said “Goldilocks and the three bears.” Can I be mad at him for pressuring me to stay in an RV in Bear Country instead of inside Fireweed on the second floor above a spiral staircase yet?

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“And now, Harry, let us step out in to the night and pursue that flighty temptress, adventure.”

I have not written, I suppose, because it has felt like I have been transposed to the ephemeral land of the fairies or Celtic otherworld written about in tales of old, accented by the movement of time being altered in the mists. Every morning, the fog. Every evening, the chilled air. In deep night, more pages of my book turned. Each day, the plains blanketed by spring rains. Time, only punctuated by a difference in lodging guests, the food one stirs, or the dough being turned over in our hands. The sun, which never sets in my mind, has played trickster to the weeks, and without the lushness and splendor the greenery having burst forth, it would seem that time has barely moved at all. Days are inhabited on the same land as all the weeks before, but each day still feels to be somewhere new, owing to the sky this difference of scenery. It is always up to something, always descending upon us, cloaking the mountains, altering the line of treescapes, releasing sudden torrents of ice, or around 9pm each evening, showering golden rays down on our freshly planted garden. This morning, stepping over gravel towards the lodge, alone I looked at this great white covering and up and up and up I was startled to see a single slit in the sky, recognizing the white and black peak of a mountain behind it and remembering the shape of the range cloaked from view.

A few weeks ago, Brian and I took a 6 wheeler off-roading for the first time. I drove, and he sat behind me, refusing to hold on to me tight enough at pivotal parts of the journey and causing me much anxiety. There are trails behind the RV which lead up to the highway, across the highway and then behind a large gravel opening to the abandoned remains of the former Glenn highway. It runs parallel to the new Glenn Highway, but is seated higher and snugger to the mountainside and looks over it when the trees break enough to allow a view. The road moves from gravel to pavement, to dirt and winds and dips where rockslides or earthquakes have morphed the earth. Sometimes, you would have to go very steeply and abruptly down and immediately steeply back up, where a puddle of mysterious depths laid at the bottom. These divots were so abrupt that I didn’t think we would make them back up, and we almost tipped over a few different times. These are also the places Brian inexplicably didn’t instinctual hold on to me, causing me to yell precautions over the engine. We rode around this winding thoroughfare up and up and into the clouds which were forming ahead of the rains, and disappearing our views. This caused a great fog to surround us, and we pierced the silence with our revving motor, hopefully scarring away moose and bear. There were so many huge piles of fresh droppings, leaving us evidence of the ample wildlife calling this abandoned road home. The air was so chilled and my face, shoulders, and fingers so numb from pushing the accelerator that we almost turned back. We made it to the end of the former highway in to a clearing, where we stopped and sipped the most delicious and warm chamomile tea from our canister. It brought new life to my chilled bones, and hopping back on, we crossed the highway and descended on to a new path that lead us over a dirt road and through sprawling woodlands. The puddles formed pools of murky brown and we traversed the path far enough to come upon an RV sitting at the edge of a lake. Past that we rode to the opening of another, larger lake, where I saw my first live river otter and was so overjoyed by this I almost cried from the sight alone. This ride, this scenery, going in to the clouds, the chilly air and the astounding views and feel of the great abandoned highway is a memory I will always hold dear.

The next day or so, we went for a walk behind the lodge in one of the sprawling trails. These trails, beautiful as they are, creep me out. I just never feel that I am quite alone there, and I never am. With Brian coaxing me further down than we had gone before, we came to a rickety man made “bridge” of felled trees leading over a wetland. Crossing this we walked over bright green moss which sunk down in to sopping earth and wet our feet. We walked deeper and deeper until the trail was thin and less trodden and everything greeted our arrival with quiet, and stillness. Even the whispers of the wind seemed to pause and watch us. I was creeeeped out. Brian held my hand and we walked further in. Soon after this however we came upon what I recognized to be the clawed, or gnawed distal end of a femur laying in the middle of the path. It was huge and what I guessed to probably belong to a moose. This was my breaking point. I just wanted out of there and we sprinted back up the path, past all the huge footprints, and droppings, and into the clearing behind the lodge. Looking back, this instinct and action of running was the stupidest thing we could have done if a bear was around, because I have since learned that this triggers their prey instinct and compels them to chase after you.

Since we found the gnawed off femur, there have been a few sightings of bears on the property. The first was a grizzly bear, and the second a very fat black bear that has riffled through property and stole food. Everyone poking fun at my expense with my cautioning against bears has slowly quieted with each new development. At first it was “we haven’t seen a bear on this property in 13 years,” and “you can cook in your RV all day long, and wash in it with scented soaps” to “you should be fine as long as you’re not cooking in your RV, take my bear spray.” The Black Bear will have to be killed - as the saying goes “A fed bear is a dead bear.” The Grizzly was spotted at the end of the neighbors landing strip which is on our property. It refused to be scared off and we had to let the wedding guests know that it was present. Being Alaskans, they got married in the backyard on the large field anyway, just a throw away from where it was openly protecting its fresh kill. The Black Bear was recognized by the tracks he left behind and the ruin he made of the food and tent. Yesterday, in anchorage, a teenager running an annual race was mauled to death by a black bear. He had just enough time to text his mother and tell her he was being pursued. She immediately notified the proper authorities, and though the park rangers pursued, it was too late. The bear was since shot in the face, but escaped, injured, in to the woods. Heartbreaking.  Being here longer, my fright of the bears has turned in to a cautioned awareness. Before, when I felt like no one believed me, it seemed like I needed to be scared. Now that there is undeniable evidence of multiple bears on the property, and everyone else is also on alert, I don’t feel that I need to carry the burden of caution alone and the fear has been able to turn in to something more constructive. They are just becoming part of the landscape. If I have to encounter one in the wild, or fend one off from our RV, it’s just part of what being here means.

There have been rifts between the front of the house staff, we jokingly refer to it as being on the struggle bus. Speaking of buses, they have moved this large abandoned bus that has “Majestic Valley” on it over to the yard surrounding Fireweed, the staff house. They have cleaned it out and decorated it with Christmas lights and now it’s a place to hang out without intruding on the peace and quiet of lodge guests. The other night, we had a fire across from it, where a pit had stayed unused since last fall. The entire staff sat around it and listened to music, played with frizbees, and the little dog Jinger, and drank beer with the bus, helicopter, and mountains as the backdrop. It was very cozy and a good time was had by all, even by those of us that didn’t shotgun PBR, or periodically leave to see if the Black Beer had come back.

I am still very much enjoying my time here, and will try to write more.

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I am standing at a kitchen window, looking out on to the mountains behind our lodge. The clouds are forming in the valleys and blowing listlessly across the tips of higher landscape. I have stood here for some time, watching the two formations tapering out. They are wisps of white floating gracefully towards each other, the apparition of outstretched hands belonging to spirits larger than our own. They do not meet. Instead, they dissipate just breathes before touching, which gives this movement an impression of great longing. Such is the drapery donning today’s mountains, who have gone from brown and black to being adorned in a covering of lush greenery and scarves of iron ore, above which the season’s first spring garlands rest delicately. I could watch this movement for hours. The spring rains are descending across us, veiling the lands in curtains of silver and grey. Only the silhouettes of pine trees on the mountain remain stark enough to show through the moving ghosts. I feel at peace in its forefront.

[glacierview-blog]

“You do not have to be good. You do not have to walk on your knees for a hundred miles through the desert repenting. You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves. Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine. Meanwhile the world goes on. Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain are moving across the landscapes, over the prairies and the deep trees, the mountains and the rivers. Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air, are heading home again. Whoever you are, no matter how lonely, the world offers itself to your imagination, calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting - over and over announcing your place in the family of things.”           Mary Oliver Wild Geese

The other day the owner of the lodge rushed in, gathered a bag of salted chips, a cup of water, and a sandwich and she told us there was a belligerent drunk man at the top of the drive way off Glenn Highway who was incoherent. He was very, very, inebriated and holding on to a half empty jug of vodka. He refused any help. It’s thought that he was hitchhiking and got booted from whatever motorist’s vehicle was carting him towards us. In the city, this wouldn't be a big deal, but in Glacier view there is nothing around for miles. The closest town is almost an hour away. Mark, the other owner went up to help him and to keep tabs on him. I asked the owner for a description of the man and all she could tell me was that he was wearing a big winter hat, and had a big red, swollen face. We were instructed to lock out doors, and as I was falling asleep, listening to every sound around us on high alert for the drunken backpacker, I heard the pitter patter of spring rain falling on the trailer. The rains stayed steady but the winds began to pick up and I could hear a big whirring noise near us. I think perhaps another dust devil had formed. The whirring and wind came right at us and the trailer shook and rattled before it passed completely. I got out of bed and opened the blinds to look in to the day lit evening, but saw nothing. Even the rain had stopped. I fell in to another restless sleep.

The next day the neighbor came down in his red Porsche to tell us that the man was still up there, and he was moving a little. He had fallen asleep on the side of the road, underneath a tarp. The trooper had been called to do a welfare check, but when they showed up later they informed the staff that the man was nowhere to be found. Arriving at the lodge that morning, I noticed the garbage can was emptied of half its contents which had been strewn around and the bags had been ripped open. The day before that they were knocked all over. The owner told us the first night it must have been the wind, and that this time she heard magpies and thinks it must have been them. The neighbor driving the red Porsche told us he thinks it might be “co-yotes” aka coyotes. He wasn’t able to talk to Jodi and Mark because they had headed in to the nearest town to grab groceries.

I finished up breakfast service with Brian and thankful for my split shift break, decided to head to the basement of the lodge where there is a big comfortable couch and ample access to the wifi connection. Leaving my glasses upstairs, I descending the staircase and walked past the laundry, dry storage, and closets and reached the couch nestled in the hallway. The hotel rooms of the lodge are located in the basement, there are big windows and a door, and the whole floor is quite cozy. With my cup of tea in hand, laptop in front of me, and relaxation setting in, I decided to do some research for which city I want to head to next. Suddenly, I noticed a huge man form in the doorway, and without my glasses cannot see well enough to make out the details of a face. I could however, see a big winter hat, and the way the figure was fumbling. Panicked, I grabbed my cell, kindle, and laptop and started to bolt upstairs just as he entered and started yelling after me. I noticed Brians laptop was down here too, and leaving my crocs, grabbed it to run upstairs. The cord was plugged in to both his laptop, and the wall, and hindered me momentarily. I ran upstairs past the yoga group who were in the middle of a quiet meditation, and told our pastry chef that the drunk man was in the basement. She called the troopers, and then mark, to let them know that the man who we called about yesterday had wandered in to our basement. Brian walked by and I told him that the man was downstairs. He went down to check, and walked back upstairs. Next thing I know, I hear surprised slurring aimed at the yoga retreat group. These poor people, in the middle of their meditations, lying supine on the lodge floor had been walked in on by a towering, drunk, and unstable man wandering the Alaskan wilderness and who had started making fun of them. Brian immediately, and admirably, went in to social work mode and calmly and cheerfully asked the guy to come talk to him outside. We locked the doors and didn’t let him out of our site as they sat and talked. We had called the troopers, but being so far away it would take them a while to show up. No one wanted to call the cops on the man just because he was homeless, but we had been instructed to do so by the owners who had been interacting with him. Also, it felt better to know there would be a welfare check made on him, because we live in the middle of nowhere and felt uneasy about the possibility of this drunken, towering, stranger bursting through our doorways. We made him a sandwich, and gave him a bag of cooked grains, and a large cup of water. Brian sat and talked with him on the stoop until the trooper showed up. The trooper treated him with respect and offered to drop him off in the next town over that he was trying to get to but ran his ID first. There was a warrant out for his arrest so he was politely taken in to custody. I hope that he has since been offered any medical care required, because his hands were shaking terribly, he was asking for liquor, and the withdrawal can kill a person. If his warrant wasn’t for anything serious, I’m sure he’s free by now. If it wasn’t for something harmless, I’m glad he’s no longer wandering around on our property in the wilderness. Apparently Alaska has a big run away convict problem, because people who want to disappear themselves find that the wilderness here is the perfect place to be anonymous. It’s far away from the lower 48, but you also do not need a passport to access it.

Today, my shift started at 6:30. And by midday I was ready for bed. Brian however, convinced me to try to scale the same mountain that I had such a hard time with about a week ago. Begrudgingly, I complied, but not without a lot of moaning and dramatic refusals first. The weather was actually perfect for it today, the sun was shining, the air was cool and a light breeze blew all around us. We walked up the driveway, crossed the road, and wandered in to the big gravel clearing and I found us the right pathway in to the woods. Everything is already so much more green than it was last week, and we had to be extra diligent to scan the landscape for bear or moose. We also had to keep the conversation going despite running out of breath, so that we wouldn’t surprise the aforementioned creatures. With bear spray at hip, we quickly found the correct path up the side of the mountain and began our ascent. The path is in the middle of the greenery and is thin and brown and scattered with grey stones. It was also littered with the scat of various animals, definetly moose, and maybe goat. I can’t yet tell. On either sides of the path are bushes and small trees and blueberry basically cover the entire mountain. The trail quickly became steep and our feet slid on the loose brown dirt. We had to grab on to the side of the path and hoist ourselves up. A few times, Brian and I grabbed plants as not to fall, and quickly recoiled in pain as the plants were made of thorns and covered our hands in splinters. The path opened up to the side of the mountain where the dirt was replaced by a path of loose rock that slips underfoot. The only way to ascend is to be sure of your feet and keep your center of gravity low to the mountain side. The higher we ascended, the more the winds picked up and filled me with a terrible unease that we could be swept off the side of it. We also had to keep scanning the landscape for predators. Climbing higher and higher, we moved swiftly and I was so pleased that unlike the first time, I could practically run up the mountainside with ease. We climbed the winding thin mountain path on our hands and feet for most of the way and reaching way further than I had gone the first time, I asked to stop. Looking at your next step is fine for me, looking over the edges of the boulders on the mountain and realizing how high you is not so great for me. So we sat. We were almost at the top, and after one more long stretch, we would just make it. I noticed that the winds were picking up, and that rain had started sweeping across the valley. Brian assured me that the winds were blowing the other way, so the rain would not reach us. He was right about which way the winds were facing, but knowing how dangerous it would be to try to descend an almost vertical rock face in the rain kept me very cautious. I wanted to scale the rest of the mountain just as badly as he, but intuition told me to watch the sky. The winds were soaring all around us and pushing past us, but the clouds above looked like they weren’t moving at all. I decided to use the sun as a reference point. “Look, if the grey clouds forming to our right move closer to the sunshine, we will know the rains will probably reach us,” I told him. He agreed. The rains were growing in intensity across the valley to our left and covered the white peaks with curtains of smoky grey. I pointed out to Brian that the sun would soon be lost within the storm clouds as they were indeed moving out way, and with little deliberation, we decided to start our descent. We had to rush down the mountain because being up there in the rain was the last thing we both wanted. We had to proceed quickly, but with extreme caution, and I am horrified to say that in our haste, twice we almost took a route that would have dropped us off a rock as it very much looked like the real path. We had to skate down almost on our butts, and grab on to anything we could as not to fall forward. I almost fell at least three times, but felt elated that we were making down the mountain just as the sky started to sprinkle. We found the path at the base of the mountain and in the greenery made loud conversation, again to ward off predators. We were shouting the conversation back and forth, in a full spring towards the gravel opening trying to beat the rains. The rain started coming down more heavily and just as we reached the driveway to Majestic Valley, it started pouring. I am so so thankful that I watched the movement of the sun to the clouds and ebbed us towards a swift descent.

We are now on the couches in the basement. The rains were so heavy that you couldn’t even see the mountains, but they have cleared now. I want to shower as the descent kicked up so much loose dirt in to my lungs, hair, and clothes. We have the next few days off and are heading in to Anchorage for the first time since arriving to do a grocery trip soon. Love you all.

View from our perch. 

Happy to be so close to the sheep.

At the foot of our mountain, watching the rains gather strength across the valley.

Backyard copters.

Exploring the trail behind the trailer.

Cozy and small, and we are almost never in it.

[glacierview-blog]

Trust Thy Crampons

The other night I was awoken by the vague awareness of my body moving, without having given it permission first. I opened my eyes in the semi darkness that surrounded our trailer and realized I was being shuffled back and forth under the covers, while the entire trailer rocked from side to side. I thought I might be dreaming and tried to shake myself out of it, but the rocking continued. After a short while, the trailer stopped rocking and I lay there with adrenaline coursing through my veins. Brian, of course, slept through everything. There were a couple 4.2 earthquakes that rocked Glacier View that morning. The people who were at the fire pit across the property, (who were busying themselves with drink and merriment) were preoccupied with watching a large moose eat the soft spring grasses. The moose, they noticed, stopped moving completely, then lifted its head up and looked towards the woods where its young were probably resting, and then the jolt hit. They saw the entire glacial hall move back and forth. The moose had probably sensed the pre-shock. Although the quakes may have happened quickly, the trailer is stilted on what basically amounts to wooden planks, and therefore rocks precariously back and forth at the slightest movement. Walking from the bedroom to the sink can cause the thing the sway a little. Awaking groggily from sleep in the earthquake gave me the sensation of being dashed against rocks, shrouded by darkness in an ever moving sea. After picking up my kindle, a possession whom I love so much, I read myself a good chapter or so of the Count of Monte Cristo and fell to a distrusting slumber.

This morning, we celebrated Brian’s first day off by accompanying Mariah to the Mica Guides Matanuska Glacial Tour. Being lodge workers, we only had to pay the “park entrance fee” which was established because the only road to the glacier is owned by a private residence who realized they can make a living off of charging tourists to access the public glacier. Before departure, we signed away all rights to sue or seek justice for things like “death, emotional damage, physical damage, and other” and signed an acknowledgement that we “understand that the dangers present are part of the reasons the adventure is sought after.” Myself, having decided to go on a whim and not having looked in to the dangers, stared fixedly at the words “emotional damage” and wandered what fates had fallen the poor trekkers before us. After rendezvousing at the “Gear Hut” where we were introduced to our Guide and half of us were sized for different footwear. Helmets were also very essential and I sheepishly had to ask for a child's helmet because my head was so small that even on the smallest setting for an adult sized helmet, it flopped around from side to side, refusing to give my skull the safety its function would otherwise provide. The last piece of equipment required are these metal contraptions called crampons that fasten to the outer rims of your hiking boots, and provide spikes to drive in to the ice, acting as grip against the sleekness of moist ice.After another few lectures on the dangerous of trekking and how the Guide is there to keep us safe, we piled in to an ancient Suburban and trundled our way to the beaten roads, kicking up dirt and clunking each time we came upon a small pothole in the road. This happened often as the roads were as old and neglected as the car itself, and rapidly switched from two lanes of opposing traffic to one “figure it out yourselves” lane. This was fine for smaller places like the bridges that would soon have the Matanuska River lapping at its belly, but hugging the curves of the cliff sides with no guardrails and a “goodbye forever” fall, I found myself clutching at the seat-belt and hoping the other drivers were cautious. On the way back up, we did skid with two way traffic while making the turn around the cliff and I white knuckled it once again. 

After getting out of the car, the guide showed us that the reason it was important for us to walk in a single file formation was so that we could know what steady ground would be sure underfoot. Parts of the path leading to the glacier were supplemented with metal grates and rectangle planks of plywood. Stepping off of them, the guide showed us what they call “trampoline dirt,” similar to quick sand. There is a layer of earth over this part of the glacier, and when it melts, an air bubble forms underneath. Stepping on the dirt, it gives the same effect as standing on a trampoline and the earth underneath the person next to you will bounce. Secondly, it assures that no moulins are present underfoot, which are essentially round, water filled, holes that are deceivingly deep as the glacier goes down as much as three miles in to the earth. So, walking single file, crampons attached to our boots, we headed out on to the ice. 

We learned different walks for manuevering the terraine safely. About all of which, being Syracusans, came naturally to Brian and I because we have walked across snow and ice for most of our lives. The first walk we learned was the “Duck Walk” and was used for going up the steeps sides of the glacier. Basically, using wide feet and the inner sides of your feet to grip, you waddle up. The second walk we learned was called “The Cowboy” and was used for going down the sides. The Bowboy essentially amounts to stomping your crampons in to the earth using flat feet and assuming a half sitting position with your back straight, in order to to try to backwards were the event to occur. The third and final walk we learned was called “The Catwalk” and was used for meandering through crevaces, which were basically just streams of water wide enough for your foot with two slopes on either sides, leaving nowhere else to walk. At one point, we walked across silver pools deep enough to reach our ankles and the tinkling of ice breaking around our feet caused a ricochet affect of air bubbles that delivered a lovely fizzling all around us. The only other time I have heard a sound similar to that was when, after completing a long day of archaeology in Barbados, I would float listlessly with my head partially under the waves in the Caribbean sea. The life teeming coral reef there produced profound acoustics for any willing listener and made an identical noise. How interesting that two polar opposite points of earth can both yield the same enchanting sound.

This walk led us to the mouth of a crevace, barely wide enough for one person to traverse, and we walked in to for a photo opp. The guide, pick in hand, leveraged himself up the side of the glacier with no rope or other equipemtnt than his crampons and axe, and stood above to take our picture. Brian tried to lean against the wall, which being wet was deceptively slick, and started to slide down. I then hit my helmet against the side of the wall and we both almost crumpled. We were barely in the photo, and I was not about to ask the guide to risk his life to another one. Further up we reached a spot on the ice where silver pools give way to luminous blue walls covered in sheets of white, where the sun has blanched the structure on the surface. At the top of the structures, were triangles that jut towards the sky, and one, which was my favorite, had a circular hole driven through the right side of it which let the sun in and glowed the edges blue. Today was sunny, which meant that the glacier appeared more silver. On shady days, they are encapsulated with blue. Walking across it today, in places where the water has carved away the surface ice, or looking through we we had trekked across, you could see blue illuminating from within the glacier. It was the strangest thing. 

We came across another crevace, this time up steeply up hill and cramped for even one person at a time. At the top about twelve feet up on the right side was a small cave that glowed blue. To the left, was a natural spring where the glacier trickled water down the slope of its side. We took turns drinking from it and after walking over the structure for so long, it truly was delicious.The guide gave permission to take two at a time up after him, but as Mariah was the odd one out, she trekked up with us. Writing the word “trekked” makes it sound graceful, when in reality it meant that the guide, then Brian, then myself who was sandwhiched between he and Mariah beneath me stomped our feet on a tiny stream just wide enough at the feet to let our feet try to dig in to the slick ice. Having nowhere to hold on to as the walls were something like the embodiment of ice spirits whose every surface is a hand pushing yours away from it and offering less grip than if it wasn’t there at all, you just hope that the person above you had their crampon firmly in the ice. This was the only place I froze in fear, as we had to turn around and I was in a position with no way to turn around, being so narrow underfoot and having one person above me, and one below. Eventually, I made the turn around and Cowboy Catwalked my way down without incident.

The small group we were travelling in were swift of foot and an ideal pairing, so we made it much further than the guide normally allows his group to go. Not having reached our time restriction, we traversed up more hills and across steep and narrow tips of ice. We jumped across crevices, and took turns throwing small boulders in to Moulins to see how long the bubbles of its descent were obvious. Some were disturbingly long. We made it back without anyone getting hurt, and peeled our crampons and helmets from our bodies. It was really a lovely and interesting day that lent credence to the acute awareness of Alaska is a special place. Once back at the camp base, we stopped for Espresso on the base of a converted bus, and watched a huge moose lazily eat grass on the side of the road. It hadn’t paid mind to us, or the passing cars, but when a loud roaring truck ascending the mountain and revved towards it, it ran directly at us and we went in to panic mode as Alaska’s most dangerous predator galloped right at us and stopped less than ten feet away. We were on a small dock and the barista instructed us to remain where we were from inside the bus. It was less interested in us and more interested in not being near the passing truck, and paid us little attention. After a minute or two I asked my group if they wanted to walk to the pick up I was driving, and we all made haste.

We have been working a lot at the lodge and spend all day prepping food, cooking, cleaning, and doing all things kitchen related. We are enjoying ourselves, and I still catch my breath most mornings when I walk outside. Even though the landscape is still composed of the same elements, the atmosphere around us changes so much that one day there will be a fog drifting across the mountain, another a light spring rain will dance around the dirt road and reflect sun in its droplets, another will be cold and grey where the mountains are striking, and even another might yield a robust snow where it may appear that we are entirely alone without a mountain around us at all. Today, the sun was shining and the skies above the mountains were deep blue.

I still do not have much cell phone reception. I love you all, and hope to talk to you all soon.

Before running right at us. Car for scale.

Drinking glacial water.

Avoiding trampoline clay to stick his head in the glacial pond.

Looks easy from afar, doesn’t it? (It’s not)

[glacierview-blog]

The last few days have been good, I am still tired lot though and I can’t figure out why. I am sleeping enough, drinking enough water, having coffee in the morning, and exercised today. The kitchen lulls me to complacency with the whirring noises of vent fans and the heat emanating from the ovens. I have been eating well although I haven't been eating full meals. I pick at things throughout the day still and find this method very effective at being able to sample everything. I hope this fatigue goes away soon. 

Last week when we were having beers with the pastry chef, the topic of spending both our birthdays and the fourth of July came up. I asked her what the fourth of July is like here and she shrugged and smiled and gave me an answer that equated to “Not much, but what does happen is very weird.” Then, she proceeded to tell me one of the best things I’ve ever heard in my entire life. Apparently, since it does not get dark here in Alaska for the fourth of july, Fireworks are a rarity. A local man named Arnie decided to do something about this lack of festivities and has started a tradition of just launching fucking cars off a cliff. Hundreds of people show up and its a real big hurrah. There’s a saying in the township near us that says “theres nuttin in sutton” due to the sparseness and lack of overall entertainment. We are not technically in Sutton, as Glacier View is a “census designated area of about 250 people” but Googling our address will show the post office in Sutton. Arnie’s taken to coining the phrase “there’s nuttin in sutton, so come on down to Arnie’s” where he also features recreational bulldozing for construction minded aficionado tourists. He stopped in today to drop off a flyer for the “Fun Run” on the 4th this year. He is also an auctioneer and although I could understand the gist of everything he told us, I really got lost in what must have been the segway between “keeping the car launch a little safer this year” and tearing up at helicopter pilots. He told us that he only has 3 Rules for the Fun Run. “The first rule is fun” he stated plainly, ticking a one off of his fingers. “The second rule,” he informed us, was that someone else was gonna do all the planning. “And last,” he said, “the last rule is that I can make up any more rules that I want.” He also mentioned that the local water company is so excited about the car launch this year, that they called to inquire how to sponsor a car. People have already started buying cars to launch off this year.I am not sure why, but I am so god damn fascinated about this whole concept. Who are these peoples? Where do the cars come from? Are they cleared away by Arnies bulldozer? Can I come?

This afternoon I decided to join my lodge worker bee comrades and go on a hike on what I think of as the “Lord of the Rings” mountain across from us. Bear Mace, and inhaler in hand, I started to hike. The girl who worked here four years ago gave us fair warning that she didn’t quite remember where the trail started, and it turned out she was right. After grappling thick terrain, where your feet sink in to the moss and your face is brushed by tree branches, we proceeded to claw our way up hill hand and foot and just try not to slide back down. Eventually, we made it to the proper trail, but not before my asthma and lack of physical endurance exercises these past few months kicked in. I had to stop about every 15 feet up hill, which was rapidly becoming a steeper incline. I have so much more respect for the mountain sheep I have been visually stalking. Eventually, even with my inhaler, water, and the patience of my group, I started to feel light headed and prodded them on to make it to the top without me. This whole time I had been in my tank top even though it was only 30 something degrees this morning. After they reluctantly left me behind to sit on my steep rock and marvel at my own foolhardy body. As soon as they walked upwards, the sun retreated behind the clouds and the whirling winds picked up in intensity. Shivering, I put my jacket back on and huddled in to my regret of climbing a cliff face, out of shape, and without proper attire. I also took this moment to realize just how far up I was as I watched the soaring birds, from above. Although the mountain top looked close from where I was sitting, my group had retreated in to specks at the top. I stuck in my hand in my trailmix bag to find some shelter from the wind and sat there shaking. I thought about how odd is was that I made it to 25 without ever eating trailmix on a trail, and wondering if only picking the M & Ms out and frantically shuffling them in to my mouth counted. Heading southward down the mountain we found the proper path and it would have been so much easier to start that way. Even with the proper trail underfoot, we still had to slide down on our butts and grab at thornbushes and blueberry thickets as not to fall. It really was a beautiful hike, and I want to ascend all the way next time. I will just have to work up to it and borrow Brian's compactable down jacket.

What the mornings look like when the mists roll in.

A very windy, very chilly, & steep mountain side.

Hiking fellows going on without me. (With my insistence.)

Feeling like the clean air, the clear water, being around humans, and just all around not spending my time in a Home Depot is really doing me well. Also I took a (hot) shower and hadn’t been in a kitchen all day.

Oh look, they came back to slide down the mountain with me!

Making Reindeer sausage gravy.

Lemondage and table setting where our yoga retreat guests have been dining.

Beet and citrus salad with toasted pine nuts.

Frontier girls.

The dog I am slowly forcing my friendship and loyalty on.

[glacierview-blog]

While finishing up some cold lentil salad in the kitchen,  Jodi, who was hovering in the doorway called over “Hey look at this!” I ran over thinking it would be another Moose sighting, but it was actually a tornado in the gravel drive across the way, spiraling down. It was thin but jetted up in to the air at least 40 feet. I watched it twirl until it dissipated. “The tornado are following you” Jodi said “and it’s right next to your trailer!” I’m not sure how strong the winds were, it was so tall and elegant and almost beautiful in a “Oh god, tornados again right where I sleep” sort of way. Jodi said she has never seen that happen in her entire life, and according to google there have only been a handful of recorded tornados in Alaska since the 50′s. So now in the last week we have had encounters with moose, slept through an earthquake, watched a mini tornado in the driveway, and walked through bear tracks. Here’s to hoping the next four months are kind to us.

Picture of similar weather event (not taken by me):

Edit: After some research it appears that these phenomena are known as “Dust Devils” or “Whilly Whirlies” rather than miniature tornados, as the classification of tornados requires that it be part of a larger supercell. Since it is currently hailing out, I don’t think it’s quite the right conditions.

Interesting Wikipedia tidbit about cultural perception of dust devils:

The Navajo refer to them as chiindii, ghosts or spirits of dead Navajos. If a chindi spins clockwise, it is said to be a good spirit; if it spins counterclockwise, it is said to be a bad spirit. The Australian English term "willy-willy" or "whirly-whirly" is thought to derive from Yindjibarndi or a neighbouring language. In Aboriginal myths, willy-willies represent spirit forms. They are often quite scary spirits, and parents may warn their children that if they misbehave, a spirit will emerge from the spinning vortex of dirt and chastise them. There is a story of the origin of the brolga in which a bad spirit descends from the sky and captures the young being and abducts her by taking the form of a willy-willy. In Saudi Arabia, Kuwait, Kazakhstan, and Jordan, they often reach hundreds of meters in height and are referred to as djin ("genies" or "devils"). Egypt has its fasset el 'afreet, or "ghost's wind".

[glacierview-blog]

Reindeer for Breakfast, Moose for Lunch.

With the absence of Brian snoring and clawing at the headboard and walls in his sleep, I finally had the rest I was hoping for. Leaving the trailer, I have been very careful to scan the landscape before proceeding too quickly. The other day I was looking out the kitchen window, and it took my brain a moment to register that I was not actually looking at a big awkward horse, but in fact a moose. Just as I was marveling about how huge this thing was as it pranced across the yard, a member of the staff commented “Aw look, it’s just a little baby!” -_-  Yesterday, we had reindeer sausage for breakfast. It was very tasty! I thought it would extremely game but it was more like pork. Today, we had Moose sandwiches for lunch. I’ve been thinking a lot about a book I used to read as a child called “Morris the Moose” who always wanted to buy candy, but never had correct change so the store owner taught him to count using gum drops. All I can think as an adult in Alaska is how terrifying it would be for a one of these huge beasts to walk in to a store and start demanding gum drops. The owner of the lodge drove up last night, but had to take extra time ascending the highway because there were Moose everywhere. There are also Moose antlers just laying around (decoratively?) all over the property. 

We decided to go for a walk and explore the backyard trails yesterday, and wandered parallel to the neighbors airstrip. It was strange how close to the lodge the trails were, but at the same time how upon your first footfall entering the path you know you’re not in Kansas anymore. We walked along the trail, startling rabbits, and following wherever the offshoots of grooved earth led us. Bear Mace in hand, we talked at an even tone to let whatever wildlife in the area know we were there. We found so many tracks including what we think are Bear tracks, as well as progressively more massive Moose tracks. There was a lot of scat all over the property I want to learn to identify. It’s dangerous to encounter Moose this time of the year because they have all just recently birthed their young. 

Walking around the property, its hard to believe that this is only spring, and everything is still waiting patiently to burst in to bloom. I am so excited to see the greenery take over. Also because it will be easier to see Moose. Yesterday, I put my hammock up to get some alone time away from the lodge. I set it between two swaying ferns, and cocooned myself against impending mosquito attacks. The air was crisp and chilly like autumn in Upstate, New York but I felt warm enveloped within its wind breaking layers. I had brought my kindle with me, but swaying there was so relaxing that I simply closed my eyes and listened to the creaking ferns and bird calls. The night time isn’t as quiet as I had imagined. Our trailer is parked closer to the highway so sometimes you can hear passing cars or an airplane landing at the lodge strip. Each time someone moves in their sleep the trailer rocks, and at random moments the heating vents will let out little bangs. If we need water, we have to turn on the water pump. If we want the luxury of having hot water, we have to turn on the water heater and wait patiently. After breakfast service today, I stole away to the staff lodge and used the hot shower and it was glorious. That’s something I’ve always appreciated about travel- amenities that are taken for granted in our everyday life become something of a luxury. “Ugh, I guess I should shower” becomes “Holy shit! I can shower today!”

We had a group of Australians at the lodge yesterday, and we spent much of the day prepping their dinner meal. Dinner at the lodge is always full course, so we had to set a formal table, and serve all of the food precariously. “We” meaning me as the other staff had just arrived and already worked their full 8 hours. I had worked mine as well, but decided to help out and acted as sous-chef and maître d to the party, doing my best to remedy whatever mistakes occurred due to not understanding their accents. After a long day, I helped myself to a beer and soaked in the hot tub. The pastry chef at the lodge keeps making the most delicious treats for dessert. Thankfully, we’ve managed to get in her good graces and she has been giving us a steady supply of croissants, cream puffs, peanut butter ice cream, and cake. She also bakes fresh baked bread each morning. In return, we always make sure to feed her bits of whatever we are making. It is the best kind of symbiotic relationship. I’ve really enjoyed having access to all of the ingredients we have at our disposal. The storage freezers and refrigerators downstairs are stocked with our soups, fresh herbs, vegetables, fruits, and pastries. The fridge up here is home to another supply of reindeer sausages, braised moose meat, and assortments of creams and cheeses. For meals, I make an assortment of whatever ingredients we have lying around, or pick at the extras of whatever we are serving. Today, I have had a slice of bacon, two fresh croissants, a fist full of blueberries, a moose sandwich, an open faced goat cheese and salted tomato sandwich, an earl grey tea, a steamed ginger and tofu bun with garlic sauce, and beautiful fresh tuna sushi. I am eating so, so much better than I was in Florida.

It snowed again today. The clouds hung low giving the moments a soft quality. In the higher altitudes, the snow and clouds had dissipated slightly and patches of the dark mountains showed through. At first glance, I thought they were black clouds. I thought to myself how nice it was that unlike Florida, it was simply the mountain showing through rather than looming tornado clouds. Before leaving Florida, there was another tornado near my apartment- which is on the third floor with no basement. Thankfully, Alaska is home to fewest tornadoes in the entire country. Yay! 

Making Pickles. We also made pickled ginger for the sushi we are serving tonight, and pickled red onions to go in various dishes. 

Table setting for the Australian party. Outside of these doors are two different grills, carved wooden bears, rocking chairs that overlook the property, and a large wrap around porch. 

One of the random findings around the property.

Recycling our veggie scraps for broth. We do the same with bones to make chicken or beef broth. In traditional Brian style, very little is every wasted. Everything is saved for later, to make stock with, or made in to something else. The owners need at least a 400 dollar order before the food truck will deliver, but even with his elaborate menus we are well below that and have only had to have the owners stop at the grocery stores will in anchorage.  

There is not much more to say at the moment. We are prepping for dinner and getting organized for the wedding parties that will arrive later on in the month. I still do not have any cellular reception. I love you all and will update again soon.

[glacierview-blog]

4500 Miles Later

Hi everyone, sorry if you’ve tried to text or call me and I have not responded. I don’t get cell reception up here. The wifi can be spotty within the lodge, and is non existent outside of its walls. I would like to update and tell everyone (hi, mom!) that I am doing well and enjoying the views. I spent a lot of time researching the area before leaving the Florida Pandhandle, but was still left wholly unprepared for the immensity and majesty of the landscape surrounding us. We are surrounded by mountains with an almost 360 view, and would be totally cut off from everything else if it wasn’t for Glenn Highway hugging the mountainside behind us. The “back-yard” mountain is grey and brown and speckled with green foliage that is just starting to crop up between the snows. I brought my binoculars along and like to watch the mountain sheep teeter and prance across it. They have to take care this time of year, because the eagles will swoop down and pick the babies off the cliffs. 

To the left of the lodge is the start of a landing strip that is used by the original land owner-turned neighbor as his personal airplane take off. Its also currently doubling as storage for two million dollar helicopters that are property of the sky company that leases the lodge in the winter time. Directly behind the lodge are tall pine trees, a thicket of woods we have not explored, and jaw dropping views of Matanuska Glacier and snow capped mountains. These “front-yard” mountains contrast sharply with the the brown and grey behind us. They are bright white, tall as god, and jut right into periwinkle skies. In the early mornings or snowy days, the clouds hang low in the valleys and obscure the mountain views. It snowed heavily the second day we were here and you wouldn’t know there were mountains around us at all. I was delighted and so cozy, having missed the snow so much. It was the first reminder of home I’ve had since leaving the white out blizzards in Ohio on my drive down south.

The inside of the lodge is a lovely light wood, the kitchens are large, and the whole place is awash in mountain light for almost 20 hours a day. The dining room is lined with mounted heads of Bison, Sheep, Moose horns, and Goat. I like to pretend they are up their for the primitive lodge folk to worship as deities, rather than a testament to mans brutish determination to conquer their surroundings. Our water source comes from the well on the land and is arctic cold and delicious. There are a few other buildings and vehicles on the land, including a staff A-frame, the original “Fireweed” lodge that served as the main quarters before this one was built, two small cabins, and the residence of the owners mother in law. Little rabbits are constantly running across the property and ducking under cars and between houses and beside the vegetable garden that no one has tended to yet. The owner, Jodi, says they will become an infestation, but her husband, Mark, says that the guests tend to get upset when he shoots them. Considering this is primarily a wedding venue, I can understand why you wouldn’t want someone going around picking them off with a shotgun.

Although there is a rustic staff house that was offered to us, we elected to stay in a camper trailer that is tucked in a tree thicket. There is a hot shower, well water, heat, air conditioning, a small table, a queen bed, and lots of little essentials that will hopefully keep us from going crazy over the next four months. I have elected to not keep food in the trailer, as well as not fully feeling comfortable showering with scented soaps as these things could attract the bears. In the daylight, this fear doesn’t seem to weigh so heavy, but in the early hours when the sun finally retreats and I am lying awake in the inky blackness I can feel how deep into the wilderness we are and feel much more vulnerable to the furry elements. Yesterday, I finally decided to put this fear aside because I need to sleep better. To my chagrin the pastry chef,Jill, promptly informed me that bears really aren’t an issue, except for that one time last year the neighbor had to shoot one that was trying to break in their house. After seeing the look on my face, she was nice enough to loan me her canister of Bear Mace, and I slept soundly for the first night since arriving. Everyone assures me that the moose are much more deadly than the bears. Beers and Moose aside, there are also earthquakes. We slept through one the other night. This stretch of Alaska is also home to the most powerful earthquake in recorded history. It was a 9 point something and released ten times more energy than the atomic bomb. It is known as the “Good Friday Earthquake” and Cordeen, Jodis mother in law was here for it. She said that you could see the log walls in her house jumping away from each other with huge gaps. There were over a hundred fatalities despite the area being very sparsely populated, but this was mostly attributed to the tidal waves that hit in the aftermath.These are things that also keep me up at night in the vulnerable shelter of a trailer.

Our flights in went smoothly, but by the end we were so exhausted that stringing sentences together was too difficult a task to do coherently. I was so excited landing in Seattle. Just the same as when we flew in to Seattle from Hawaii, it is absolutely beautiful. The waters were reflecting silver pools from the sky, and the greenery was so deep and intense that it made Florida look bland. It was dark when we took off and as we drew nearer to Alaska, the sky began to change from black, to purple, and finally to a deep orange as we neared anchorage. The moon was so full and orange as well and peaked out from behind giant glacial snow capped mountains. Far below in the valley, the land was still dark but you could see yellow lights glittering in the coastal cities. Sometimes you could see a large fishing boat careening through vast seemingly empty space. Definitely one of my favorite airplane rides to date.

We spent the first day or two here cleaning the lodge from top to bottom and organizing everything for the start of the season. Our first round of guests are arriving tomorrow and are a rag time group of vegans and meat eaters that are seeking the lodge out as a yoga retreat for the next few weeks. The owners are coming back today and we spent the day experimenting with the breads for our menu for the next few weeks. Brian spent the day trying to perfect these steamed Japanese buns that he made in a contraption on the stove and playing with the deep fryer that groans and hums loudly as it reaches the set temperatures. I have two separate batches of Injera bread I’m hoping not to ruin as awesomely as all of the others I’ve attempted, and Jill has spent the entire day making loaf after loaf of the most beautiful breads, as well as an assortment of fresh fruit sorbets, and brown sugar cookies. Brian also candied the most beautiful smelling walnuts by caramelized them in a pan of butter, brown sugar, and water, and then covered them in a blend of freshly ground cloves, cinnamon and other spices before stirring in freshly toasted fennel. It smelled like the most wonderful Christmas ever.

I am feeling grateful for our accommodations and our ability to eat freely whatever is not set aside for guests. In the mornings we make breakfast for ourselves and whoever is around, and drink deeply from an endless supply of dark coffee. I was told that our competitors staff lodgings is comprised of mostly tents, that and that they have to pay for food. They can use the lodge for showering but I hear they have to pay for that too. I can imagine their season either feels a bit longer, or will be more inebriated than ours. We have not gotten our schedules for the season, but Jodi told us that I will be working support in the kitchen for Brian until the sous chef shows up late summer, and then filling in as needed with housekeeping and checking guests in.

Yesterday, we went to a local diner/lodge off of Glenn Highway with a member of the staff here. The waiter was a very jumpy, unintelligible man with an extreme fondness for Brian and a penchant for verbal sexual harassment. The walls of the lodge were lined with signs saying things like “Rules for Dinner: Love it or Leave it.” Our driver asked for a shot of whiskey to polish off their beer and he delivered a hulking glass of whiskey on the rocks, accompanied by some lovely verbiage for Brian. I almost peed my pants. What a place!

Before coming here, I loaded my kindle up with books that I have been meaning to read for some time. So far, I have read “Beyond the Horizon” by Colin Angus that is about his journey becoming the first person to circumnavigate the earth using only human power, and The Giver. I’ve also started a book called “You’ve Gone Too Far This Time, Sir” which has been an entertaining read about a man travelling to India on bicycle. It’s similar to Beyond the Horizon, but much funnier and less well written. ‘

I will try to keep this as updated as I can for everyone.