Inktrails from Alaska

Good One, God

Every day I see such beauty that words are useless. Pictures are only approximate renderings of this marvelously thin skin we humans, and all life on this planet, tread every day. If you consider the huge size of the Earth, and then realize the extremely thin strip of land we occupy, you can't help but realize the miracle of life on this planet. There is a miniscule fraction of the mass of this rock supporting us with living soil below us, and the tiniest of veils of atmosphere protecting us from the winds of space.

I was working on the computer by my south-facing window and looked up and saw these frosted trees being lit up by the sun behind them and once again, as I do every day, I said, "Good one, God!" I know I'm not responsible for this awesome cosmic show, where a star lights up the trees by my window! Whether God is our Creator, or simply the force that holds all the molecules in the universe together (and he/she is probably both), I rejoice every day because of the beauty of our home. And lest you think I'm being fundamentalist here, I'm not. Evolution is a force the moves us all. God is within all things, and without all things. Including evolution. (Gee, it's sad that I have to write it that way.)

Look around where you are, and see the innate beauty of our home today. Rejoice! You won't be able to help saying "Thanks, God, for such a great place to live!" Let this place touch your soul. People often don't turn to the spiritual unless something bad is happening, and then they send up prayers asking for help. People are closed up, worried about letting "bad things" in. Open up and let the Earth fill you up and I guarantee you'll suddenly feel overwhelmed with love and gratitude. It's our natural state.

Thanks God, good one!

Saturday Snow Machine Ride

Did I get a workout last Saturday! I'm still trying to stretch my thighs back out again after using them for shock absorbers for 35 miles. It means walking down stairs is a real challenge and on a flat surface I shuffle like a ballet dancer but I don’t care. It was FUN. And I'll do it again, for sure!

My snowmachine is a little "learner" type. It's a 1989 model, a cute little red thing that looks like a bumper car. It really does. What's great about it is that I can pick it up and turn it around pretty easily, at least when I'm not all pooped out! And if I'm pooped out, no one else minds picking it up for me because it's so light. So even if it doesn't have reverse, any gauges at all, and looks retro, it's still a neat machine. If I could change one thing about it, it would be the hot grips on the handlebars. They work great, but on the thumb throttle, they work TOO well. The first time I used them I looked down at my hands and they (my HANDS) were steaming! The throttle gets so hot that I burn my right hand if I don't turn the heat off in time. So that means I'm riding around, bumping all over the place, up hill and down dale and trying to find the switch, which is on the right hand side, same as the throttle, with my LEFT hand and still not crash into a tree. During this last trip I just gave up and took my hand off the throttle to flip the switch on and off as needed. I haven't figured out if the HI and LO settings are really any different from each other. I doubt it. Somewhere a part needs to be replace, methinks.

We headed out of Ester around noon and since I’m not a guy and I don’t have the trail system memorized I’ll just leave our whereabouts at that. We were outside in the bush and forest and it was stunningly beautiful. Well, okay, we crossed Goldstream Creek and there was quite a bit of trail breaking going on for the big machines. We also crossed the railroad tracks and got to watch the train go by, too. It’s neat to be out in the middle of nowhere and suddenly stop and watch the train. Alaska Railroad, of course. I only wish it had blown its whistle. I love trains.

Riding behind someone breaking trail is sweet. All cushy and smooth and soft. Unlike the heavily traveled trails where the snow has been packed down hard and bumpy by sled necks racing around, the new trail is cushy and comfy.

Being the beginner in the group, I was pleased that I didn’t get stuck any more often than anyone else did. I dumped it a few times, mostly in slow motion, where I just got up, laughing, and tried to eliminate the snow going down my neck and then powered out.

I lose track of time, but we rode for an hour, at least, probably longer, with short breaks, before we headed out toward Cache Creek Road.

Our goal was to get to Scott’s undeveloped property but the trail got too deep. What was needed was someone or several someones with snowshoes to come and tramp it down first.

Scott continued to work on the trail a bit, and we went back down the trail to wait for him. Meanwhile there was a problem with the other woman in the group, she’d gotten snow in her bunny boot and one of her feet was freezing. So while we waited I had her get her feet out and stick them in between the layers of my wool on my belly, and I warmed her up.

The men found this quite entertaining. I had to tell them, "Her foot is NOT where you think it is!"

Meanwhile, I was enjoying the break because I’d taken off my balaclava so that I could use the goggles and not get my eye poked out during part of the ride through a brushy area. Thing is, with the balaclava I have, I can’t use goggles or glasses because they fog up. And I have to use the balaclava so I can breathe the cold air without hurting my lungs. After taking off the balaclava to use the googles, and riding a while like that, I realized I’d burned my lungs. I was really having some chest pain from that. When breathing versus seeing is involved, well, that’s a call for better gear! A call I have since attended to. Next time I have a good face mask that will allow me to use the googles.

Anyway, the break waiting for Scott to come back was a good one. At that point we split up, me breathing and the other woman with two warm feet, and Scott and I went on our way back to Ester, and the other folks headed out to Ivory Jack’s, a roadhouse in Goldstream.

Renewed, refreshed, and hungry as hell, we headed back as the sun dipped down below the horizon and the full moon bathed us in silver-blue light. The crystal clarity of the day ride through spruce, willow and birch, became a softened dream of a ride back. The fantastic shapes of the piled up snow became even more mysterious as the moon rose. It was so gorgeous that we decided to ride to the top of Ester Dome before going back in. From there you can see everything: the amber lights of Fairbanks, planes landing at the airport, hills and ridges off into the distance.

The key to having fun on a trip like this is to take your time. Young folks want to ride fast all the time, but they miss all the beauty around them. Take it easy and enjoy it. And bring a baked chicken along too. That can’t hurt.

Seamus Kennedy

Three times this week I've been asked by native Irish where I'm from, the unsaid question being "What county are you from?" In Ireland, that is. You should see the confused looks on their faces when I say "Michigan."

The second person to ask me that was Seamus Kennedy, a performer from Belfast that I had the pleasure to hear last night. He's a favorite of Fairbanks, and folks have been telling me about him for nearly two years.

The room upstairs at the Elk's Club was filled with round tables, which were all jammed with people. Waitresses circulated Guinness, Bushmill's and other, less Irish drinks. Kennedy stood on a small platform at the front of the room and was easily heard over the crowd because of the excellent sound system.

I was grateful for that sound system, because it didn't take too long for too many Bud Lights to have been served at the table behind me. The inhabitants, whom I strongly suspected originally came from Texas, kept yelling for Kennedy to sing some Lynard Skynard, and when he opened with Whisky in the Jar, exclaimed "That's a Metallica song!" These folks apparently had half a brain between all six of them, and someone had left it in the car. I hope it thawed out before they tried to drive home. If the sound system hadn't been very clear, and just the right volume, I would not have been able to ignore these ignoramuses.

Kennedy put on a pub show, doing all the standards: Black Velvet Band, Whistling Gypsy Rover, Wild Mountain Thyme, Molly Malone (in a bit of Irish, too) and others. There was a bit of humor involving Molly Malone that I didn't care for, where he made some jokes about Mexicans and then sang Molly Malone as "Juanita Suarez." It wasn't mean, it was just not very well thought out. Being from New Mexico I didn't find it amusing, and I don't think he'd want to do that routine down there.

However it wasn't mean. I doubt there's a mean bone in this boy's body. The evening was pure fun, aside from that glitch. He made me happy by making fun of the song Danny Boy, doing it in various incarnations such as Elvis Presley, Harry Belafonte, and others. For a performing Celtic musician like myself, Danny Boy is the Stairway to Heaven of requests. You just get so sick of it. Most people probably thought he was making fun of Danny Boy to be funny. I happen to know he was saving his sanity!

Going back to Molly Malone (aka Cockles and Mussels) and speaking of cockles, the ones in my heart were warmed up by his lovely and tender version of Tooraloora Loora........................in Elmer Fudd voice.

Kennedy worked very hard and put on a great show. He didn't stick just with Irish or Scottish music, but did something you just don't see anyone do every day, but especially not an Irishman: he yodeled like he was on fire! Doing a song called That's How the Yodel was Born, more popularly known as done by the Riders in the Sky, he surprised the hell out of me! You just never know what a man in a kilt can do, eh?

It was great to have someone else leading all the singalongs. It was great to hear the old standards and hear them done right! He played nearly three hours and was absolutely worth the $20 I paid to get in.

And....It Slams Back Down

Last night I got to use the emergency gear I always carry around behind the seat in my truck. After this very difficult week, I was off to pick up Scott to go to the movies, and suddenly the truck was making some seriously bad missing noises and lost most of its oomph. I was headed uphill, so I pulled over at a street at the top, and tried to listen to it, but it killed itself. I waited, turned it back on, and it sounded okay, so I nosed out to the road and headed down the other side of the hill. Everything was marginal but okay until I was going uphill again and then I could hear and feel that I'd better pull over ASAP.

The thing is, with all the snow, there is no shoulder to the road anymore. I managed to crawl into the entry to someone's driveway, but I wasn't more than three feet off the roadway, and cars and trucks were slamming by so fast that the truck shook every time a vehicle went by. I turned on the flashers (actually, I'd done that as I found I'd lost power) and raised the hood to check the oil. I figured that if it still had oil, there might be hope that it wasn't a totally FUBAR engine.

It did have oil, and that was about as far as I could go with it, so out with the cell phone to call Scott for reinforcements. I could tell by my exploratory visit under the hood, that the temperature had dropped considerably. I found out later that it was -35 degrees.

As soon as I got back into the truck I took off the boots I had on and put on the bunny boots, took off the jacket I'd worn and put on my new/old down parka. If I'd needed to walk anywhere I would have put my snow pants on over my padded Carhartts, and I would have replaced my fleece gloves with the industrial mittens. However Scott said he'd be there as soon as he could, so I just sat tight in the truck and prayed no Saturday night idiot would have a few beers and then slam into the back of my truck. Waiting outside was out of the question. Even though there was no heat in the truck, it was still relatively warm compared to outside. I sat on my hands to warm them up and waited.

The rest of the story is boring, Scott towed it to a safer place just down the road, and I'll have it towed to the mechanic this morning.

How to pay for this, if it is indeed fixable, is the question. It might just be a timing belt, which was overdue to be replaced, and in the recent low temps would have been ready to go. If so, I hope I didn't do horrible damage by that quick little run downhill. If it's the engine, well, I'm screwed.

Let me just say that at this time it's a good time to start taking music lessons with me! And that I have lots of flags, music books, Celtic jewelry, T-shirts, two wedding dresses, plaid skirts, women's kilts and other things for sale! Or you could just mail me a bag of money. That would be great. That would be the best.

Oh, and it's still way down in the negative thirties here. However at least the northern lights are out in force! Do you think there's a pot of gold at the end of the northern lights?

We did end up going to a movie, despite the truck self-destruction. We saw "Life Aquatic" and enjoyed it a lot.

The Lid is Off

The top of the freezer opened today and -10 degrees felt balmy after those days at 40-50 below. My truck is much happier now, and toodles down the road just like it is supposed to. Minus 40 degrees seems to be the temperature where the hydraulic fluid in the clutch starts to congeal, which means that shifting gears is a real adventure that can take 10-15 seconds--a long time on an icy road.

When it's that cold it also feels like the truck is leaning BACKWARD when you are driving FORWARD, as if it has a mind of its own and it would much rather go home and rest than drive into town. I can sympathize, but you can't let the weather keep you from doing the things you have to do!

A friend of mine got his truck back from the mechanic during that cold spell. Thinking that they would do Bob a favor, the mechanic had his car washed, and had it for him all shiny and wet when it was done. Bob and his wife drove the car home, parked it in front of their house, slammed the doors and went inside. The next morning Bob went to start it and realized that a nice, shiny wet car in -54 (he lives in a valley) means a frozen SOLID car! No amount of tugging was going to get the doors open! The mechanic's "gift" had turned their Nissan into a nice, shiny yard ornament.

He did get it open this morning when the temps came up a bit. If that hadn't happened, he'd have to have gotten out the parachute and the space heater and gotten it open that way.

I tried to write about Stevie today and only succeeded in crying a lot, and writing very poorly, in the most wooden sort of way, a narrative of his final hours. I felt just like my truck did at -48. Froze up. Congealed.

Low Temperature Lifestyle

It's basically 50 below here. I'd say -48 degrees is close enough. Of course it's not quite that cold at my house as I'm a bit higher elevation than town (Fairbanks). The cold, as everywhere, clonks down into the lowest places and hits them the hardest. Folks in Eilson AFB and Fort Wainwright and in North Pole are probably easily at -50 and colder. It's -65 in Tok, AK.

The sky is so crispy it's likey to make your eyeballs crunchy. As I drive into town today I'll have to deal with ice fog and I'll lose that gorgeous sky. Driving home last night was tedious because of all the ice fog. Ice fog looks like regular fog when you are driving through it, but it's not. Here is where you can find out how we could possibly have fog when it's so dry right now that the dog has turned into a Static Monster! When you pet her, she crackles!

I must check the inflation of my tires and make sure that they aren't getting low. If they get too low they'll just lose the bead and go flat while I'm driving. I've got to watch out for broken belts, too. My clutch is hydraulic, and when it gets this cold it works okay if I am not driving over 40 mph. After that it stiffens up like a sonofagun and it takes muscle to push it in, and I have to wait for it to pop out and engage. So the drive into town is a slow one to keep that clutch from freezing up completely.

Don't slam your car door with your hand on the window in this weather. You might just end up with a handful of glass.

If you go outside with a cup of hot water and throw the water into the air, it vaporizes instantly.

Last night the northern lights were dancing up a storm! I stood outside in two 20-minute shifts with a warmup in between to see them. I've never seen them move quite that quickly, they were pulsating rivers of light, threads that spread across the sky, shimmering aqua curtains with red tinges swinging back and forth. There is no way to describe them adequately. There is no movie, no picture you will ever see that captures it. You'll just have to see them for yourself if you want to know what they are like.

Sofie and I will head into town in a while. I'm sure we'll have our invisible dog with us, too.

Stevie Tomorrow

For all of you who know Stevie, please light a candle for him as he goes home tomorrow. The cancer has reached a point where his life is painful and extremely uncomfortable. He's been asking me for help every day, many times a day. It's time.

Stevie

The time has come to talk about a difficult thing, about running out of time, about Stevie, who doesn’t have much time left.

The balance between the amount of Tylenol 3 (with codeine) he can take vs. being able to be awake, aware and enjoy life has been reached. I don’t know how long he’ll stay balanced, where I can give him just enough medicine to keep him approximately pain-free but not knock him out totally. There is no reason for him to stay around if he is in so much pain that he can’t do anything but stay knocked out on drugs.

The cancer has grown, and is finally showing in his face. His right eye is weepy and is being pushed sideways, the right side of his face is swollen by the tumor underneath the bone. He has trouble opening his mouth, though he eats just fine. I am softening his food so that he can eat without chewing, which he does whether I soften it or not.

He rode into town with me yesterday, insisting on going, pushing his way out the door and bolting into the cab of the truck. He’s too wobbly to make it down the steep, twisty stairs that lead to my teaching room. He can make it up just fine, but down is another story. And he’s too heavy for me to carry.

Scott might take him with him next time he snowplows because one of the things Stevie loves most in the world is trucks, and especially riding in trucks.

Every time I leave him to go somewhere, I’m almost hoping that he will die in his sleep while I’m gone. He’s 17, at least, and for a rottweiler/doberman that is extremely aged. He has lived a long and very happy life, at least since I got him around age 3. Previous to that, someone tried to make him into a fighting dog, and someone, maybe the same someone, shot him in the heart with a handgun. Luckily the bullet lodged close to his heart, perilously close, but not in it. I never knew about it until he was sick once and had an X-ray. When I went to pick him up the receptionist said, “Well, of course you know about the bullet in his heart.” All matter-of-factly, as if this were normal. I just about fell over! “I don’t have a gun, we aren’t those kind of people!” I exclaimed. Later the vet showed me, and gave to me, the X-ray. I still have it.

Stevie has had dogs and people to play with. Lots of cuddling and love. He rode the Alaska Highway, making the trip from Albuquerque to Fairbanks. He even visited Dawson City and Whitehorse.

There are many things to say about Stevie, and I am going to wait until later to write more. But be warned: I’ve had to make those sad phone calls to the vet, to find out how much it will cost to end Stevie’s pain. He is going to be cremated, because there is nowhere to bury him that belongs to me, and because the ground is frozen. Keeping him until Spring, frozen on the front porch is too gruesome to even consider.

He’s still here though. He follows me around the house, he visits me as I write at the computer, and still wants to ride in the truck. He’ll be around for a little while longer.

God Damned Warm Weather!

Forecast for Fairbanks from the National Weather Service:

1110 AM AST MON JAN 3 2005
.TODAY...CHANCE OF SNOW AND FREEZING RAIN THROUGH THIS AFTERNOON.
SNOW LIKELY BY EVENING. SNOW ACCUMULATION UP 1 INCH. HIGHS
20 TO 35...WARMEST OVER HILLS. SOUTHWEST WINDS 30 MPH OVER
HIGHER SUMMITS WITH BLOWING SNOW. LIGHT WINDS IN VALLEYS.
.TONIGHT...SNOW LIKELY. SNOW ACCUMULATION OF 1 TO 2 INCHES. LOWS
10 TO 15 ABOVE. LIGHT WINDS. SOUTHWEST WINDS TO 30 MPH OVER HIGHER
SUMMITS DIMINISHING TO 20 MPH BY MORNING. LIGHT WINDS IN VALLEYS.

Damn it! The first day I have to go back to work it's going to be WARM and I want to go out on the snow machine! I don't want to be struggling with traffic on super-slippery roads, I want to be out on the trail with nothing but snow and trees for miles around. Damn it!

Up to 35! Holy Cow! Let me get my bathing suit out.

It doesn't help that Scott is definitely out there having fun. Damn him. I wanted to go last weekend, but noooOOOOOoooo, he wants to go out BY HIMSELF.

FINE. Just FINE.

Let's see, what else can I gripe about?

I had a window to take a shower before heading into town but now I can't because the other tenant on the property is doing laundry. There won't be any hot water. I'll have to be stinky another day.

Something went wacko with the heating in my place, too. The "flow valve" from the hot water (I have hot water heating in the floor) is stuck open, so for three days I had 80 degrees in the place. I even tried turning the heat OFF, but nothing helped. The landlord said he turned off the valve (or closed it? how could he, if it was stuck open?) and hemmed and hawed about fixing it. "It's a real pain...you have to drain all the water out of the pipes....oh, you'll be warm enough..." Well, we'll see what happens with that saga. I may go from being way too hot to being way too cold...God, I hope not. So far though, it's still around 78 in here, so at least I'm not too cold yet.

Are you ready to bring the Waaahh-mbulance yet?

In reality I'm fine. Now that I've griped.

And Here We Go Again

I'm in my flannel flowered pyjamas, the sky is shaded from sky to cobalt blue as the sunlight fades in the south. From my south-facing windows I can watch the sun arc from southeast to southwest every day, rising around 9:30 and setting around 3pm. The day is far from over, but there is an "evening" vibe to get over every mid-afternoon. A good time for tea, surely.

My New Year's celebrations were split between a blues band and fireworks at a local village. Both were great good fun! The Mighty Untouchables don't have a web site, but I can recommend them for a rockin' good time! The barbeque joint they played at had excellent food, too. We ate until we could barely dance.

At 11 we headed back to Scott's home place to see the village fireworks. About fifty or sixty people were gathered on the porch of the saloon to watch flocks of fireworks set off from the parking lot. Scott and I simply stood on the street and watched, which was pretty exciting when things started shooting in unexpected directions or when a huge firework meant for the sky exploded on the ground. The latter happened more than once and was actually pretty thrilling.

After a quick visit to the interior of the saloon, which was brief due to intense cigarette and, the last straw, disgusting cigar smoke, we went back to Scott's place and read the newspaper, pet the cats, measured for curtains and generally just hung out together. Yes, how romantic, eh? You'll never know, some things are more romantic than they sound. In the middle of the night, after spending a couple of days together, just doing small domestic things has a warmth of its own.

This morning I woke up with a headache! Now, you don't see anywhere in my description that I drank any alcohol, do you? I didn't drink! Neither of us took a drop, except for water or coffee. So why do I have a headache today? I'll tell you. Cigar smoke. Yep. Twenty minutes in the same room with all those cigarettes and cigars and I'm done in. Quit smoking, you idiots!

Best wishes to all of you for a happy, fun, and productive New Year!