Passages

I watched a friend today go down the driveway in the back of a pickup truck and out of my life forever. I don’t often get attached to things, but in the hour or so before the pickup arrived I sat down and reflected on this old friend.

I bought the Ski Doo Tundra around Christmas in 1986, the winter I was building the home at the East Pole. In its time it carried most of what is in that cabin today, including a lot of the building materials. Every trip along that trail on that snowmachine was an adventure. In those days all we did was haul. I longed for the day I could run the trail and not be hauling a heavy sled behind me. One of those adventures goes like this. Loose lumber is difficult to haul because it’s difficult to cinch down. The minute the sled starts bouncing around the lumber moves and pretty soon the cinch straps aren’t holding anymore. I finally learned to nail them together so they wouldn’t do that but not before this happened: One day I had a load of 2x4s probably five wide and five high. The first mile or so of trail is pretty much uphill including one stretch that is very steep. 

 To get up it, especially with load, you have to get a good run at it and keep the throttle hard down until you get to the top. This isn’t all that easy because in places the trail is narrow, moguled, icy, and not level which often makes the machine tip; and with this machine the steering skis had a way of coming off the ground going up hill. As a result I had to stand up and lean forward in order to steer and in standing had to alter my weight from one foot to the other as the machine tipped, kind of like a skier trying to maintain his balance. As another result, it was very difficult to look behind me. So, I headed full bore up that hill wailing on it roaring around curves, over moguls at times the machine airborne and finally reached the top. As I slid over the ridge and into the downhill portion I stood and cheered out loud that I had made it with this load. Then I looked back and to my horror the sled was empty and behind me all the way down the hill were strewn 25 2x4s. That took me more than an hour slipping and sliding up and down that hill bringing them to the top two or three at a time and it was during that hour I decided to try nailing the boards together.

But, it wasn’t just building materials and supplies that machine hauled. There was a lot of other precious cargo. Even on the day I picked it up, the young son of a friend of mine rode with me from town out to the trailhead. That first winter, once the cabin was livable, my daughter came out on the machine and several more times over the years. My son at 6 weeks and in a snuggly inside my Carhartts was another of that precious cargo. He fell asleep and I remember checking on him by blowing on his face to make sure he hadn’t suffocated. He grew up going to the East Pole and eventually drove a machine out there himself, and in time, his own machine.

For 20 years the machine made the trip several times a year bringing in Christmas, often for spring break and was integral to everything that happened in that magical place. So many memories come to mind, so many adventures: the time the moose kicked Christmas, the time I fell through the ice on the Talkeetna River, all the trips to the creek to get water or through the woods hauling firewood, the time blundering around in the dark and getting stuck in deep snow and having to leave it overnight, and just the slow trips through the woods, the wildlife, the people met on the trail, the time Frank and I had to chase his dog team after it escaped; all of it came to mind in that hour.

A couple of years ago I put it aside for a newer one. (Newer? That one is now 12 years old itself) And, of course, my son got his own which I am taking care of : ) while he is away at college. The original has sat neglected in the yard for those last few years and I guess it came time to get rid of it. (Of course losing a great lawn ornament in the process.) So, a fellow came and got it today. He is going to rebuild it for a friend of his who lives in the Bush. He felt he was getting a bargain and it sounds to me like it is going to a good home. I just hadn’t realized how much it meant to me until an hour before it went down the driveway.