As if we didn't have enough to worry about

A fellow at work related this incident the other night. He had gone to a local supermarket, a formerly local chain now owned by Safeway. He noticed a special offering 10 cans of tuna for $10 and picked up 10 cans. Instead of going through the regular checkout where this might have been missed, he went to one of those new self checkouts. I don't use them personally because they remove another entry level job for young people, but that's another story. So, he checked his cans of tuna through. The first six registered a price of 99 cents. But, the seventh can brought a charge of $1.99. Two dollars for that can. Surprised, he asked the attendant what that was about thinking there was some mistake. The attendant, the one who's there for us techno illiterates, said he'd never seen that before and went to find out what the problem was. When he returned he had some rather interesting information. Yes, indeed the tuna was on sale with 10 cans for $10, but in the very small, fine print, it said there was a limit of six cans. Good grief. 10 for 10 but you only get six for that price. You have to wonder how many people miss that in a checkout line. Eventually the store gave him the 10 for 10 deal but you can bet other people paid the $2 for the last four cans without noticing. Limit of 6, indeed.

You have to love Alaskans even when you disagree with them

Last week when "snowmagedden" just about paralyzed the East Coast and most of Washington, D.C., despite the government being mostly closed, both Alaska senators made it to work. And, that's not the best part. When they got there one of them found five people from Nome already waiting in the office for a meeting. You can take the girl out of Alaska, but you can't take Alaska out of the girl.

On a more somber note, yesterday I noticed the spring frosting. That is when the days are warm enough to soften the top layer of the snow. Then it freezes overnight and that crust looks all shiny like a glazed donut. The problem is those conditions create avalanches and today two people and maybe a third were killed in avalanches. One of them was the president of Conoco Phillips Alaska.

It reminded my of the time I watched my son head off into the mountains on his brand new snowmachine a few years ago. His buddy had a full backpack and at first I wondered what for since they were only going to be gone for an hour or so. Then it hit me. When they came back we headed straight to the sporting goods store and I spent about $600 on gear for him: a locater beacon, a breakdown shovel with snow probe in the handle, small first aid kit, a folding saw, space blanket, super flashlight, a signal mirror and some other things. I felt a whole lot better next time he went off by himself.

To give you an idea what he might have had to deal with. One time the road out of Valdez was closed by an avalanche in Thompson Pass, the area in the U.S. that usually reports the heaviest snowfall for a year. Record is more than 900 inches. Ok, so when they said on the radio that a one-way lane had been cleared through it, I headed out. When I got to the one lane through the avalanche chute, I reset my odometer. All of this snow was higher than a pickup and when I came out of it I had gone 4.7 miles. That avalanche was almost five miles wide by the time it got down to the road. I am not easily impressed but, oh boy, I was that day. Difficult to get your head around the power let loose there.

I go through a small avalanche area on the drive to and from work, and believe me I drove through it just as fast as I dared tonight.

Here's tonight's avalanche story.

Winter's kiss

Most often January is the coldest month. It seems for two or three weeks in January the temperatures go to the deepest all winter often down into the minus 30s. This winter not so much but we had a touch of it. At the same time the skies are clear and the sun shines brightly but there is no warmth in it. You look at the clear sky and the bright sun and have to wonder why there is no warmth from all that gaseous fire. Folks in McGrath had a term for it: When I was there one winter during this period they looked at the sky and called it "severe clear." Then as the days grow longer moving into February it changes. Right now we already have 8 hours and 22 minutes of daylight. At this point the sun hits the house but it rises and sets twice. Morning sun comes through the trees but then it goes behind the mountain only to rise sideways again in the afternoon. And, as all this happens there is one day in February different from the others. One day outdoors or maybe driving, at a pause you feel the first touch of warmth on some bit of exposed skin. I have most often felt it on my cheek. It tells you there indeed is warmth in that sun and that little warm kiss tells you there is an end to winter and all that's needed is patience. It is like that first little kiss of blossoming love. It holds that much promise. Today was that day. On the way to work with the sun shining through the side window of the car, it touched my cheek and I felt its warmth, felt that winter kiss and it puts a little spring in the step with all the promise it holds. This is something I have never mentioned to anyone before but I was describing it to a couple of people at work and one fellow said, "yes, I felt it too. I was out blowing snow off the driveway and had to make a phone call and when I stopped I felt it." It's nice to have confirmation. So, there it is. Maybe it should be expressed in a poem but that form escapes me these days. Having felt it was enough.