Enough already

Trying to fall asleep tonight and clicking through the television channels, between 11 and midnight there were three Alaska reality shows on in the same period. It is getting so nothing is real unless a camera is pointed at it. Have to wonder what happens if some actual Alaska reality goes after one of those camera crews. Like a bear.  Sounds like justice, but it would only result in a reality show about reality show crews recording reality in Alaska.

The very next day: Two more in a competing time slot. Different from the first three. Five within 24 hours. And, none of these was "Deadliest Catch," nor did any involve the Governor Interrupted. Going out to check the bushes for cameras.

Coming for dinner

A couple real fatties showed up at the feeders today. No wonder I have gone through 40 pounds of seed in less than a month.

'Well, beat the drum and hold the phone, the sun came out today'

The opening line of John Fogarty's "Centerfield" was perfect for the sight and the first thing that came to mind. On the solstice, the sun came out and if memory and a small bit of research serves, it was the first time we have seen the sun in Southcentral Alaska this December. It has been the darkest of dark days. Storm after storm blew through from the Gulf of Alaska, bringing rain, heavy wet snow and high winds across this part of Alaska for most of the month. When it was not storming, a heavy overcast hung over the land constantly blocking out the sun.

That made a perfect recipe for seasonal affective disorder, that mid-winter malaise that can plunge the happiest soul into depression. According to research, everyone suffers it to some extent, some worse than others, It is physical, caused by a lack of vitamin D and by a lack of sunlight absorbed through the eyes. It used to bother me until I learned what it was and how to avoid it and since then haven't had much difficulty with it. Just knowing what it is, puts you on your guard a little and you can temper the effects, but also, just getting out in the sunlight for a while every day helps. That was what made this month so difficult, I am sure, for many, there was no direct sunlight, only what was filtered by clouds. I noticed a certain tension at work for one thing, and an occasional downslip in my own well-being for another.

Reaching the solstice is a milestone in that now the days start getting longer as the sun begins its journey north again. (An aside: we had a big discussion about how to say this at work last night. Actually, relative to the earth, the sun doesn't move, the earth does and available light is relative to the position of the earth on its axis relative to the sun, as Earth spins in its orbit. Try to explain that in a one-line caption.)

At any rate, the sun did come out and was creating a beautiful sunset as it did while I drove to work. I had to smile when the song came to mind when I saw it. It is the promise that the days are starting to come back, the building of optimism and the beginning of recovery from any of the effects of SAD.

Thinking now what I will do with the additional two seconds of daylight we will receive today.
It won't be long now until there's "new grass on the field." I am ready to "give this game a ride."

Here's a link to a gallery of photographs a photographer made of the solstice sunset yesterday.

Coping

Without going through it ourselves, it is difficult to fully comprehend the horror of a cancer diagnosis. While many of us never have to face it personally, it would be unusual to find someone who didn’t have a friend or relative who did. I remember going to visit a friend who was in hospice after cancer treatment and as I drove there wondering what I would say, I figured he had suffered enough sad faces and condolences meant more for the dead than the living. Still I did not know what to expect when I saw him, was he going to look frail and deathly or be his normal, robust self? At the door I knocked and when he opened it, I blurted out: “Man you look terrible.”

“I do not,” he blurted back. And, he didn’t. He looked the way I had always known him and I was so relieved that he was or at least looked healthy, and that the ice was broken.

Now a second friend is facing the same demon. There has been one operation and since summer she has lived with the uncertainty of how effective that operation was. Recently there were some complications of mind with subsequent testing and it all leaves her with no solid answer as she faces the holidays. Through her I am seeing one of worst aspects is the waiting and the uncertainty, partly due to the fact that the outcome is in part controlled by others who are slow in communicating from their clinical distance.

Again as a friend I am faced with the quandary of what to say that is reassuring and expresses genuine concern without being overly condescending. As an aside, in editing events calendars I have noticed there are now classes for friends and relatives of people suffering cancer that probably offer answers to at least some of these questions. As I was thinking through what to say, I came up with a sort of parable I think might be an empathetic situation from my own adventures. The hope here is that this doesn't trivialize what my friends are experiencing,

It took some time thinking through this situation and reading her note a couple of times and it seems there are so many possible answers, it is overwhelming and like she said maybe it is best go to bed with a book....

Early on I was afraid of flying. The slightest bump and I was grabbing something. That changed when I went along the Iditarod trail in a small airplane. We were flying over a musher in a little Cessna 172 and the pilot who I am sure was testing me, asked if I would like a picture. When I nodded yes, he turned the airplane into a screaming dive toward earth to get the closest picture possible. I immediately dropped the camera and grabbed this little bar welded to the overhead. It was at that point I realized I was grabbing onto the very thing that was going to kill me and that I had absolutely no control over what was going to happen. Rather than scare me further, that thought relaxed me and I have been fine flying ever since. I let go of that false security and faced the unknown and took the picture. Perhaps it is fatalistic resignation and perhaps it is recognizing at times we have no control over our circumstance and there is no advantage to worrying excessively about something we cannot change.

And by the way, this post is proof I have survived every airplane flight I have ever taken.

Two, two, two posts for the price of one

Busy day at the feeders today. At one point I counted 20 pine grosbeaks and then kind of lost track. And, now redpolls are showing up in greater and greater numbers. The feeder full of thistle seeds has gone untouched for as long as it has been up. That was until today when the redpolls discovered it. There really was a crowd out there. Oh and as promised got out on the lighted side of them today. I figured out a perfect blind and if we ever get a sunny day again, I am looking forward to some good pictures. Love me, love my birds lol.

Eat your heart out, Paris Hilton

If ever there was a perfect example of the Alaska sourdough from the mining genre, this guy was that guy. Short and stocky to the point of being bull-chested, he wandered through the aisles of the big box hardware store, looking at this, looking at that. He wore bunny boats and heavy Carhartt pants, a sweater over a wool shirt under a heavy outer jacket that showed the effects of hard wear. He covered his head with one of those round furry hats, with thick ear flaps fastened over the crown, held up for his being indoors. His dark eyes squinted under bushy eyebrows in the bright florescent light of the warehouse and his beard overflowed his jacket spilling out over the sweater and coat in shades of black and gray and white. He turned and looked at a fellow shopper gauging his worth and evidently deciding this one was not going to be any help. But, as he did, one of those cute little poufy dogs like the celebrities are always carrying, peeked out from underneath the jacket and the beard. Its coloring gave it almost perfect camouflage against the beard. The man gently scratched the dog's head while he turned away to continue on down the row of electrical materials seemingly without another thought. No worries. Dog or no dog this was not the kind of man paparazzi pursued and if they had, well, lord help them.

Some measure of order has been restored

When last we left this convoluted tale, the little car was stuck at the end of the driveway and the Jeep was parked behind it. The temperature was about 20 degrees and snowflakes the size of pillows were falling. That was Friday. Saturday I made the better choice and took the Jeep to work and it was the right choice as through the night we watched the weather steadily deteriorate.
One of the last postings I made at work before I left was that winds in excess of 100 mph were expected in the higher elevations near Anchorage, along with driving rain. Rain! Thinking about driving 40 miles in that was at least intimidating. Jeeps aren't particularly aerodynamic and I wondered what that blunt, square shape would do if hit by a 100-mph-gust. Not sure, but I think I found out. I took a blast not too far along the road that rocked the Jeep. I'm not sure if the wheels came off the ground but I could definitely feel a change. That was the point where a new sound developed as well. One thing all those years on boats did to me was make me sensitive to any sound that is out of context. There can be a lot of noise on a boat with engines and generators and hydraulics running but anybody worth his salt will still hear that little ping that doesn't belong. It might as well be a siren because the response is the same. This was more like a whistle and as usual with a strange sound I immediately thought the whole thing was coming apart. Then I had a lucid moment and figured it out. In addition to a lack of aerodynamic integrity, Jeeps aren't exactly air tight either. That sound was wind whistling through cracks around the doors and windshield. Wow. That was a bit sobering.

So, with the vehicle under constant assault by wind and rain, and potentially ice road under the tires and Saturday night drunks on the road, I proceeded toward home at about 40 mph. I have never been so relieved to leave the new road and take the old road even through it was more of a mess and the wind and rain seemed more powerful. And, now I had to go through an avalanche area as well. Add to that the thought of crossing the river bridge broadside to that wind and it sill felt better than dealing with the drunks on the new highway.

For most of the road, the wind wasn't too bad but I still crept along not sure if the road was icy or not. Then I came around the curve out of the woods onto the river bank and it felt like a truck hit the Jeep. Talk about a hard wind. (There's one of those useless adjectives. How hard was it? Ummm. Well it felt like it stopped the Jeep cold, like it had been punched.) The bridge would be an adventure. But, I took a hard gust just as I rounded the curve that leads up onto it. Looking ahead, despite the rain, the wind had blown the bridge pavement totally dry, I mean it was normal concrete gray instead of black with moisture. As soon as the gust died, I floored it and raced across that bridge just as fast as that car would accelerate. Made it all the way across before any more gusts hit. Home now would be a piece of cake.

I backed into the driveway behind the little car and then walked up to the house, looking around for any cracking trees. The thermometer read 50 degrees. FIFTY in December in Alaska. That also meant the temperature had risen 70 degrees in the space of about four days.
At 3 a.m. the power went out.

Then came Sunday. For one thing look at the post below with the bird taking a bath in a puddle in the yard. Nice drive to work. But still some rain and you couldn't be sure whether the road was just wet or icy. Several vehicles were off the road stuck in the median and down the slope from the shoulder. Still people were passing me at 65 and 70. I always wonder what part of wet, icy road, winter, fairly heavy traffic and wind, don't these people get. Even all the vehicles off the road didn't phase them.

Windy and rainy but the roads seemed thawed. Reading the stories, there were several reports of gusts nearly 100 mph and one of 118. By Monday morning the police reported for Friday Saturday and Sunday: 177 vehicles in distress; 124 accidents, and 22 accidents with injuries.
Hmmm Haven't gotten to the restoring order part yet. Well, today: Both vehicles are where they should be, parked near the house and so much snow was melted out of the driveway, no problem getting in and out. First snowmachine is started and running fine. Four-wheeler that was out because the stalled snowmachine was blocking the garage is back inside safe again. The temperature is back in the 20s where it belongs and the birdbaths are frozen over like they should be. And other things are in progress, including the next immersion.

So, as the saying goes: Cheated death one more time.

One of those polar bear plunges we hear so much about?

Quick post on my way out the door. I was about to lower the blinds when I saw this. Not the greatest quality picture, through the window and blocking the flash, but it will have to do. Who would have thought birds would take baths in winter? This pine grosbeak was shaking and fluffing up in the puddle caused by the rain. I sure hope he dries out before it freezes.

Saw a new bird today, too. Some kind of sparrow I think. Heading for the books.

UPDATE: About that sparrow. Turns out it was a redpoll. They just don't look the same when there is only one of them. Now there is a bunch of them around the feeders (12/6/11)

The Alaska red sled

These days they come in many shapes and sizes and colors. For instance this one is black, but they are all red sleds. That's because when there were made originally they were almost all red, well maybe some were orange. They are those short plastic kids' sleds with a raised side all the way around. They may have been intended for kids, but everyone in the Bush has one at least. Even Iditarod mushers carry them for moving equipment and food around at checkpoints.

They are the third arm, the extra muscle, the smoother trail, the easier going in life where moving around can be tough and moving things around even tougher. You haul chunks of firewood from the pile to the cabin. You bring your groceries up the hill with one when the machine won't make it. You can fit at least two five-gallon containers into the sled when you go to the lake for water. They don't haul huge loads but they haul enough to make life just a little bit easier. I probably own four or five of them but they are all at the East Pole. My trick is to buy two of them, then I fit one inside the other and run eye bolts through both to hold them together and provide places to hook bungee cords. That makes them tougher and they last longer. Today I needed one or at least thought it would come in handy, and I don't have one at this house.

See? Wednesday night I managed to get the little car stuck at the end of the driveway. I just left it there. Yesterday spent about two hours with a shovel or two and couldn't get it out of there no way no how. Went out again this morning and same thing, nothing would let it move. Plus, this morning there were snowflakes the size of pillows which almost led to panic. I mean, I do have to go to work tomorrow. If snow fell like that for very long the car would be there until spring. I kept looking it over to see if maybe I could at least get the Jeep past it somehow. I finally blasted through the dingweeeds and got the Jeep out, then I hooked up to the little car and yanked it out. Then I backed it up, straightened it out and blasted up the driveway as far as it would go -- not far, but far enough so I could park the Jeep behind it and both would be off the road.

Then, after a brief respite I took off in the Jeep to buy groceries. On the way I got to thinking I wished I had a red sled to haul the groceries up the driveway from the Jeep to the house. Now this takes some explanation of Bush mentality. In the Bush when you have a task to do and you don't have the right equipment, you don't think, "well, I'll just go to the store and get it." Mostly you can't go to the store just on a whim. Even if you do it will take at least most of a day. So, you think through what you have that might get the job done. You make do.

As I was thinking through what I might have that I could load with groceries and pull up the driveway all of a sudden a revelation came over me. Wow! I am going to a store that sells red sleds. OMG! I can buy one! Now isn't that something? The problem is, I didn't see the display of simple little red sleds near one of the entries until I was heading out the door with this $35 monstrosity. A bit of overkill but I have decided I am worth it, or at least I am getting old enough to accept a little help when I can find it.

And, just as a side note, I don't want any crap about all those plastic bags. I have several of the reusable ones you buy at the store. But. And, don't you wish you could use this excuse? I LEFT THEM IN MY OTHER CAR.

Oh and look who showed up at the feeder tonight to let me know I forgot to buy bird food.

Redbird goes a'courtin'

There were at least a dozen of these guys around the feeders yesterday morning. I have never seen that many together before. Something else is new also. See how red these two males are. Normally they have a very muted blush of red on their heads and maybe a little on there breasts. These were red all over. Assuming the get very red for mating to attract females something must have gone horribly wrong for them to get all dressed up about five months early. But, there might be a reason.

When I left the house around 10 a.m. yesterday the temperature was 10 above. When I left work about midnight it was 10 in Anchorage too. Nice drive home on clear road and turned off the highway onto the blue highway and though there was some packed snow it was pretty easy going. That was until I came around the curve out of the woods onto the open area next to the river. A blast of wind hit the Jeep so hard I thought for a moment it might go over. With it came driving rain. Om the bridge, the wind had whipped up snow from the river forming drifts across the road every place there was an opening it could find its way through. Bumpy drive across the bridge and more wind. When I got home the weather had softened the snow in the driveway. There's a lot of it. Still waiting for that snowblower repair. The Jeep really worked hard to get up near the house. Once out of it, a blast of warmth hit me from a wind gust. The thermometer read 38-40. The rain had let up. Then in the morning it was back down to about 15. Amazing. And, the red birds showed up en masse.

So could the warm wind have tricked those horny males into thinking it was spring and they put on their fine feathers to go courting. That's my take on it anyway.

AN ADDENDUM: They showed up again the next day and didn't seem to be nearly as red. My friend had this idea about that:

"That's an easy one! The flashy birds you saw yesterday were part of the rich and famous jet-setting crowd. They moved on when the common pine grosbeaks started showing up. Once your feeders were no longer exclusive, it was all over for them. They were so out of there... (Ha, ha, I am so funny.) "

(One of the days I will get on the sunny side of these birds and get a good picture.)

Ewwww gros

Pine grosbeak, seven of them around the feeders today. Something new this year: always before they fed on the ground, picking up what the chickadees spill, but this year they have gotten up on the feeders several times. In that they are more than twice the size of a chickadee, it looks like the food bill is going up. Just opened a 40 pound bag of sunflower seeds today.

A very chickadee Thanksgiving

A few friends flew in for the holiday. And, oh yes, the woodpecker came by for the first visit of the year that I know of. Also had a couple of merlins hanging out in the trees looking for a meal I hope they don't get. May everyone feel the day and enjoy it as much as my guests seem to.

November 22

John John salutes as tthe funeral
processon passes.

I saw no mention of it anywhere today but President John F. Kennedy was assassinated in Dallas on this date in 1963. November 22 is a date I used as an example for my writing class of moments in history you experience and will always remember where you were when you learned about it.

I was in an elevator at City Hall in Buffalo, New York, when two people entered it and were talking about the shooting. I had been sent there as part of the job at the Buffalo Evening News to pick up some materials for a reporter. I listened to the two people intently and when the elevator let me debark I raced back to the paper to find out if it was true. A newspaper during such an event is something to see, something between a madhouse and a group of people totally focused on only one thing, amid the chaos, get this news out correctly as fast as you can. I remember my father calling me there (he never called me) to ask if it was true also and I told him it was.

We got the paper out that day but it was by no means the end of the experience. That day holds another special memory and the two are so intertwined I cannot separate them. It was a day I planned to share with my first real love, we had such plans. This is the woman I wrote about earlier whose family introduced me to sailing on the Niagara River. I wrote also that we had fallen in love with the Beatles singing in the background. I drove to her house and I recall walking up her sidewalk with a dozen roses in hand and a necklace with a tiny diamond in it in my pocket because this is also her birthday and it was the first one we would share. I had no idea what to expect; it certainly didn't feel like a day to celebrate. When I went into the house I found the whole family seated around the black and white television as the news unfolded again and again. The roses were laid on the table ignored, the necklace stayed in my pocket until we had a private moment later and I sat with her on that couch for the better part of two or three days. Tears welled in our eyes constantly though not to overflowing as we watched Walter Cronkite barely able to contain his own emotion as he tried to make sense of that day and the ones that followed.

We saw Jackie so regal and holding in her grief in order to show the nation courage and strength. We saw Lynden Johnson sworn in as president. I think we might have seen live Jack Ruby shoot Lee Oswald, I can't remember for sure; it was played over and over again. It all seemed so otherworldly holding hands almost trembling as we watched and wondered what was happening to our nation. Many young people saw Kennedy as our president, young vibrant living in Camelot, he was the new generation and we were part of that, and now he was gone and the man who replaced him came from the old school. Just for example Kennedy was the one who said we would put a man on the moon by the end of the decade and we did (the day of the landing, incidentally also one of those when we remember where we were). America had such promise and now it seemed that promise had been snuffed out.

How we moved on from those days I don't recall vividly. We watched the funeral with the riderless horse and the boots backwards in the stirrups and little John John saluting. I see that salute picture today and it still raises some emotion.

And, to a certain extent every November 22 I lose myself for a time in the memory of that event, the assassination, the first love, the birthday, the music and all the emotions they engender. One year on this date long after we had gone our separate ways, I sent her a dozen roses just to mark that anniversary. Today driving to work I listened to all the Beatles music I could in the lonely hour it took to travel that "long and winding road" to work at another newspaper.

COMMENTS FROM FACEBOOK NOV. 22, 2016

Marian Nattrass:  It is true that we remember where we were and what we doing on that devastating day. It was on our news today

Doug Nattrass: Kindergarten. Berwyn Elementary. My teacher started to cry
Tim Jones: I think that speaks a lot to how etched that event is in our memories, that you carry one from kindergarten

Jan Wiliams Simone:  6th grade. I still remember that my classmate Danny was the one who told our class. He was sitting near the door and could hear teachers crying in the hallway. After school I went on a visit to a nursing home with my Girl Scout troop and I can still hear the sad voice of an old man talking about "our young president". Only a few years ago I discovered that Danny and I are distant cousins.

Laurie Hanley Konefke: Sitting in a Graphic Design class at Univ of Buffalo. Hello to you Tim.

Peter Leitzke: Physics quiz section in Sterling Hall with Mr. Coker - instructor, grad student from U of Maryland. Bill Brooks burst in breathlessly and told us that Kennedy was dead.
Betty Sederquist Truly poignant writing. My own remembrances are much more pedestrian. No great love stories, as I was a geeky, shy 16 year old. I was in gym class trying to do gymnastics, disastrous in my case, dreadingly walked into the room that held all the gear, and my fellow PE students were clustered around a couple tiny transistor radios listening to the crackling news. I too remember Cronkite crying on the air, remember the Ruby shooting.
Carol Draveling Yeah, I was in biology class and our teacher ran in to turn on the tv.....there it was, unreal, our President and First Lady zooming away holding her husband's pieces of hair and skin onto his skull....one I will never forget....etched in brain!!!!

Sharon Wright

Mr. Roth's Jr Hi Social Studies class, which was a great oasis. He had us put our heads down on our desks and just talked to us for the whole period about what this meant, and what would happen next.

Headlines I've written, never meaning to send

Sometimes a headline screams for attention even when you know full well, it can't go into print. Last night reading about this supercommittee in Congress that's supposed to solve the economy/debt/budget problem. It turns out they never got anywhere and today was the deadline. This was the way I saw the head:

New Deal?
Fair Deal?
call this one
No Deal

It did not get into print.

NFL teams should hire Republicans to block field goals and extra points. Nothing gets past them.

Random acts of kindness

I always liked the sound of that, but never really set out to do any. How many opportunities come up anyway? And then recognizing and again (gasp) doing something, well the odds against them are pretty big. So, without that in mind I set out today on the annual search for a small turkey and Pepperidge Farm stuffing mix. Oh, and too, to address a bit of a health problem, which in the end didn't get addressed.

Anyway, at the first store I was meandering down an aisle until I was stopped by a roadblock. On one side a Walmart stocker was filling a shelf. On the other a very frail woman who honestly didn’t look strong enough to be shopping alone, was in one of those electric carts and trying to extract a tray of candy from the display it had been crammed into. I watched her patiently for a minute, glanced at the Walmart guy who sort of looked over his shoulder and then went back to his work, and finally realized the woman needed some help. So, I walked over, asked her loudly enough for the Walmart guy to hear, and then pulled the stubborn candy out of the display and put it in her basket for her.

She smiled, started up her machine and rolled past me and we both went on our ways.

After checking out of that store, I went to the next for just couple of things I couldn't find. As I was waiting in the checkout, I realized a new problem had presented itself. A young girl was checking out a whole basket full of what looked like party mix supplies. I could see she had a ten and a twenty in her hand and when the total came out to more than $60 she looked totally shocked, and then embarrassed and then that quizzical look that said "What do I do now?" The checker was very patient. The girl's shopping list turned out to be a recipe for the mix and the checker went down each item telling the girl she didn't need this much or that much and that maybe she just needed to make a smaller batch. I thought that was much nicer than getting all upset with her, the poor kid seemed just lost. I think maybe she was looking forward to her first party (it being Friday and all) and among other things wondering how it would go if she didn't bring the party mix.

In time the checker had the amount under $40 and was still going. At that point I looked in my wallet and found a five-dollar bill, but before I could get it out the total had dropped to $31.99. Impasse. Nothing more could be taken off the list and the kid was $2 short. And I had two bills for that. So I offered my $2. The checker looked so appreciative, the girl smiled at me like I had saved the world and I just said, "It's happened to all of us at some time or other."

When the girl left, the checker thanked me for my patience. And I told her I thought it was great how she took the time to help the girl work it out. As the kids say sometimes (or did) It's all good.
So, two in one day. Not bad. Maybe it was because in the first place I looked there was a bin of small turkeys and a display of Pepperidge Farm stuffing products.

So, next Thursday if you are in the neighborhood, I have this turkey that is still way more than I can eat, and whole lot of other stuff, and am planning to sit down and enjoy "A Very Gaga Thanksgiving" on television. Come on by.


OH, and the picture: Have you ever seen a fatter chickadee in your life? They are all puffed out to keep warm, but this guy was noticeably bigger than the others. Maybe I won't have to look so far for a small turkey next year.

… and something and something and something

When last we left this adventure, the Jeep was being charged and the snowblower was halfway down the driveway stalled. Eventually the Jeep started, I winched the blower onto the trailer the next day and off we went to the Honda shop, fearing the worst. I mean this thing flat stopped and I couldn't free the starter rope.

A short digression: Some time back I wrote about why I bought a Honda car. It was because of the reliability of the other Honda machines I and my friends own. In all the years, I can't recall ever seeing a piece of Honda equipment break down. This includes four wheelers, generators, pumps, snowblowers, maybe a car now and then but I can't be sure. For example of all the engines I had to start last Thursday, only the 15-year-old Honda four-wheeler did. (Well, the snowblower started, too, but that didn't last long) So, back to the story.

The shop called me Tuesday with the news. People! I broke a Honda!

The whole damned engine. And, I can't even blame the manufacturer. Funny how the finger of blame most often has a 180-degree curve in it. It has been religion with me since I owned or operated and depended on engines. ALWAYS check the oil. Dumb! There is a slight blame on Honda for a design failure: a steel plug turned into an aluminum engine block. I managed to cross those aluminum threads when I changed the oil last spring and over the summer all the oil leaked out. If I had checked it I would have known and could have prevented this damage. But, now the crankshaft and pistons are bound up for good and I get to pay $800 for a whole new engine. (That Honda reliability doesn't come cheap.) Worse, it is not my machine so I absolutely HAVE to put it back better than it was. Yippee! Merry Christmas everyone. Feel joy in the fact that I have a working snowblower again. Plus, it's going to take about two weeks for the engine to get here, and I am sure hoping we don't have a big snowfall before then.

I was commiserating with a friend last night who also was having a series of breakdowns and talking about how you get to a comfortable place and then things start to break, or maybe worse, when you let some minor chores go for awhile and then something big happens and all of a sudden you have a huge pile of work in front of you. First his truck broke down and once he got that fixed and drove it to work, his wife called to tell him the furnace just went out in their new house. I shared my experience and the hopes it wasn't a whole furnace replacement (it wasn't, but it was more than $400) Then I drove home last night with the temperature down around zero and the wind still howling, only to find my own heater stopped, out of fuel (one of those put-off minor chores, I was going to check it today, honest). There are times to be thankful for a wood stove.

So today I am warm and $1,200 lighter. Pretty close to that for my friend, too. As Kurt Vonnegut wrote, "so it goes."

AT THE FEEDERS: A new bird this week, a boreal chickadee. Pine grosbeaks, nuthatches, the usual chickadees and a grouse. And then today standing outside with the fuel delivery guy, I saw two merlins hanging out in the trees.

A most peculiar sight

It has turned cold. Around zero yesterday and now minus 10. With open water on the river that generally means fog. In the river bed yesterday a single low white cloud of fog filled the basin from shore to shore and it looked like from the glacier to the ocean. The whole river appeared to be covered in pillows or one big one, anyway. It was quite a sight especially looking down on it from the elevation of the bridge, all white in the shades of gray world of winter. In another existence you might have been able to jump off the bridge and bounce in soft comfort.

And today? A grouse at the feeders, all puffed out for warmth.

And, discovered a difference between generations. I remember thinking I wished i had a camera with me. About five miles farther on I looked at the iPhone that was feeding Lady Gaga into my car stereo. Duh. Kidding about it at work we came to the conclusion that those older among us have a telephone that also can take pictures. Those younger have a camera and stereo that, oh, also is a telephone.

Breaking through the crust

I had another post idea going today, but that was on the negative side and something happened at work that took off in a different direction. Perhaps not as much as policemen or firemen, but to some extent in the news business you develop something of a crust and a sense of black humor to get you past the tougher stories. Then every once in a while a story breaks through that crust and gets to you. It wasn't really fair, but three of them ganged up on me tonight. I am going to share them rather than try to rewrite or paraphrase what they are about. Enjoy one or two or all three. Or none. Up to you.

The first is about a Japanese American man who fought in World War II in the American Army despite the fact that many of his relatives were being held in an internment camp in Wyoming. Last week he was awarded a medal posthumously. Here's his story.

Suicide is a huge problem in Alaska, particularly among teens and Natives. Even Congress has taken notice. This story is about a high school senior who as a 5-year-old saw her uncle take his own life. As recently as last year another close friend of hers did the same. But this girl has begun her own fight to battle this epidemic and it has received the attention of important people. This is her story. One quote from her was particularly compelling: "It's just always been around me," Baldwin said, "It's always been an option."


And now for my favorite. A fellow I know wrote this reminiscence of time with his father in the Alaska wilds, a time I only wish I could have known.

One quote in it in particular spoke to me: "If you are looking for an experience that will temper your vanity, this is it. There's no one to impress when you're alone on the trap line."

Before you do something, you have to do something else

That title is one of the axioms of life in Alaska, right up there with "always getting ready." Today I embarked on a bit of both, in part doing something I should have done last week. There's enough snow in the yard to warrant a blow. Not so much that it can't be driven over, even with the little car, but enough so that if there's another snowfall, it will be too much. So today was snowblower day. Only to get at the snowblower, I had to first start the four-wheeler which was blocking it in the sort of tent garage I am using. The four-wheeler has a winter jump start to it, that by pumping it a couple of times, it supplies enough fuel to get it started with that first weak blast from the battery. The problem is I can never find it. I had to go back to the book twice, broke a headlamp (mine, not the four-wheeler's), tried to start it without the boost (It's plus 10 F out, not exactly four-wheeler weather) and try again. I finally pulled the machine out of the garage by hand and in the daylight found that button and lo and behold the thing started.

I held on until I was sure it would stay running and then went after the snowblower. Now that thing has never failed. It started right up and off I went down the driveway happy this was going to be a good day. I got maybe a hundred feet before it stalled, Started and stalled about four times and then locked up. Cannot even pull the starter rope. This I assumed was beyond my capabilities so I called a dealer about 20 miles away and they said they could take it.

That settled all i had to do was hook up the trailer to the Jeep and winch the blower onto the trailer with a come-along and off we go. Turned the key to start the Jeep and not even a click. Now, that's scary. There is no good reason that Jeep's battery went dead. I checked all the buttons and switches and nothing was turned on. Sooooo, I brought the charger out from the house and hooked it up. I went about some other things, filling bird feeders for one, a little shoveling, some organizing in the garage and came back to the Jeep..... this time there was that series of fast clicks that at least tells you some juice is going through the system, but not enough to start the vehicle. However, I did discover I had left the interior light on... you have to turn it on and off manually and in my hurry a week ago I didn't turn it off. As least that says there isn't any lasting damage, but more time would be needed to get it to start.

So at this writing, here's how it stands: the snowblower is about 100 feet down the driveway stalled; the Jeep is out there with its hood up and the charger pumping away on the battery; and I am in the house warming up, although seriously it's not all that cold so not much of a problem.

That dealer closes at 6 and right now it's 3 so we shall see if the Jeep will start in time.

As old Lodgeskins used to say: "Some days the medicine doesn't work."

And out there on the Western Alaska coast it looks like most weathered the first storm of the century just fine, thank you.

Due to extreme weather, the extreme weather drill is cancelled

All right, this has to be one of the great TV announcements of all time. "Due to extreme weather expected across most of western Alaska, the Alaska Broadcasters Association Emergency Alert Systems test scheduled for tomorrow has been cancelled."

It sounds funny but probably not a good idea to hold a drill when the real thing is about to happen. A storm involving two huge low pressure systems is bearing down on Alaska's west coast with hurricane force winds predicted all the way from the Aleutian Islands north into the Chukchi Sea at Point Lay. In addition to those souls still at sea this storm is threatening beach erosion, flooding, blizzards and pack ice forced on shore or at least one or the other of those over almost a thousand miles of shoreline

 As of noon today Nome already was feeling the winds and noticing some rise in water level. That is supposed to intensify overnight into a storm the weather service says could be the worst on record.

A whole new take on Angry Birds

All the feeders out now and it wasn't an hour before one of them was down to 2/3 full. You can have your Angry Birds. I'll take my hungry birds any time. But, um, maybe not the expensive birds. I've joked in the past how fast they go through the feed I buy, but this year I learned a whole new lesson in bird feeding.

 A couple of the old feeders needed replacing and I thought maybe adding a couple would be nice as well so have been looking for the past few weeks at various stores with some specific kinds in mind. I found some but others weren't available and I was beginning to think about making my own. I went to one last place, kind of the high end of pet supplies and bird seed and feeders.

 They had quite a selection and as I looked through it, I came across one that was on sale for $110. One hundred ten dollars American! I laughed, Who the heck would ever pay $100 for a bird feeder? I found three I liked plus a hanging device and, oh what the heck, one of those silhouettes of a raptor that are meant to warn birds away from windows. And, oh yeah, a bag of thistle seed.

 In a hurry to get to work, i hustled to the checkout and put them down for the cashier. She totaled it all up and very calmly as if this were an everyday occurrence said to me in the sweetest voice: one hundred twenty six dollars. I just about fainted. Very silently I paid for all this, right at that moment not sure these birds were worth that. Still regretting the amount, I put all those feeders out yesterday and filled them with seed that of course I am gong to have to replace at more great expense wondering again was this really worth it.

Then the first chickadee landed on the first one even before I had the second one filled and I started to feel a little better about it. But, today, I am programming a video game to challenge Angry Birds. It is called Hungry Birds and basically you start with a million dollars and start feeding birds. They find increasingly devious ways to get you to spend money on them until at about the 20th level you are broke. No human can win this game.

Murder most fowl

I witnessed a murder today, personified by dark sinister beings challenging any who would cross the bridge, with more gathered on the beaches below on both sides of the river, more yet along the water's edge to the west. Easily visible against the background of new fallen snow. Black and white, evil and good, the eternal struggle.

They gathered in a place where the movie was being shot just a few days before, a movie based in the evil that stalked this place a quarter century before, an evil that left its victims in unmarked graves, many of them never found.

Was the murder recent, of course it was, but was it also founded in that time and now its victims rise on All Hallow's Eve to torment those who paid little attention to their fate because they were considered less than worthy of a proper investigation by authorities.

Like a lawman facing unbelievable odds, the eagle stared from his perch in the old cottonwood at the gang gathered below perhaps wondering too, what evil brought this murder out on this particular day. Maybe with his vision he can see the spirits of those long-dead souls drifting through the forests seeking salvation or retribution, or both.

And this is the mystery, my friends and the new challenge. Can anyone define this murder? Muwaaaa haaaaa haaaaa!

'Frozen Ground' the Sequel: Aftermath

Having spent the better part of August 2010 sailing around in the North Pacific Ocean with a group of people trying to get a handle on the amount and possible cleanup of all the plastic trapped in a gyre out there, I've become a lot more sensitive to the amount of plastic I and everyone else use and thought a bit about the supply chain. Where does all that plastic come from and how does it get into the ocean? Granted most of what we saw could have come off boats, but it originated on land one way or another.
How some of it gets there became crystal clear during the drive to work yesterday. At the Kink River I glanced over and noticed the movie people were gone and wrote about that, but another thing I saw was a big wad of Visqueen blown into a tangle of brush on the beach. (For non Alaskans, Visqueen is plastic sheeting and we use the term genericly) The plastic in the brush bothered me on the drive and I convinced myself to go over there and clean up what I could. It also led to thoughts about its location. That Visqueen was about a hundred yards or less from the Knik River. At this point it's probably less than two miles to Knik Arm, Knik Arm empties into Cook Inlet which in turn connects to the Gulf of Alaska and the North Pacific Ocean. It doesn't take too much imagination to figure out that this Visqueen which incidentally is in a high wind area could easily end up in the river and the ocean. All so people could watch a movie about an Alaska serial killer and because a few people with the crew couldn't take the time to clean up after themselves. To be fair it's possible some of this trash was left by others before the movie people arrived, but I am sure the Visqueen wasn't there and (ugh) I opened one bag and the garbage smelled fairly fresh. I suppose I could have poked around and looked for discarded paperwork to confirm it, but then, you only get so much from volunteers.

There's a bit of an added problem boat people will appreciate, at least any of us who have tangled Visqueen in a propeller. Awful stuff and if the shaft or outdrive overheats, that crap melts to the metal and is almost possible to remove. It could get worse than that if it gets sucked into a cutlass bearing.

The trash is in a good place now and just to balance the bad with the good, when I told the nice woman at the landfill where it all came from she only charged me two dollars instead of the usual six.

THE PHOTOS: The one with the black bags is the total pile collected. The one with the smaller Visqueen is to show the proximity to the Knik River and the large piece is self explanatory.

For images from the North Pacific trip click on the Sailing with Chip gallery in the right-hand column. There are photos of some of the trash we collected out there.

Weather thwarts Knik River Valley invaders

Two nights ago a new critter popped out of the brush onto the road. Pretty sure it was a mink: the right dark color, too small to be a wolverine or an otter and too big for a weasel and too dark to be a martin. It ran with that hunch and stretch motion weasels have, so that's my guess anyway.

If omens are to be believed, there is now some indication the mink may have been one. The next day heading for work, I noticed the parking lot at Del Roi's tavern was packed full of matching Winnebagos. It seemed awfully late in the season for a tourist caravan, but what it could have been puzzled me until the next day. Again they filled the parking lot, but farther on there was a lot of activity on the wide gravel beach at the Knik River that included several large trucks, a pagoda type tent and lots of people milling about.

The movie! There has been a crew in Anchorage for the past several weeks filming a movie about a serial killer who operated in the 1980s and who actually released his victims in this general area and then hunted them. Nicolas Cage and John Cusack are in it and have been spotted around Anchorage.

Nature was not cooperating. Blasts of wind gusted down the valley from the glacier, actually stirring up whitecaps on the river and sending clouds of glacial silt over the camp and the road. Welcome to Alaska, I thought as I made my way across the bridge.

Coming home that night it had built into a whole lot worse storm. Along the blue highway wind rocked the car. At the sharp curve that turns on the bridge at the south end, wind tends to be strongest and dust and silt blown up from the river bed sometimes builds up across the road creating a slippery surface right on the sharpest curve along the whole road. It can also create a washboard effect that can easily send a car flying. This night I hit that curve wrong, just as a gust blew up a dust cloud so thick I actually had to stop because I couldn't even see the guardrail right next to the car. I could hear bits of beach dust hitting the car. It let down and I went across the bridge to see lights on at the movie camp and guys working tying their tent to pickup trucks so as not to lose it to the wind. Welcome to Alaska again, I thought.

The next day still blowing like snot, two helicopters had joined the equipment at the camp on the river. but there didn't look like any work was under way.

That night going home, I noticed the camp had disappeared and the parking lot at Del-Roi's only held a few local vehicles, no rolling campers or equipment trucks.

It all tells me to pay attention when another mink hops out onto the road.

Another one of those "never-do" things

NEVER get behind a cat lady in the checkout line. Holy mackerel! 120 individual cans plus several large litter boxes. PLUS coupons for every single one of them.

On the positive side: Read the whole front page of every single tabloid in the rack. Or is that a minus?

Doing my part: Occupy !!!

The small print says "Take it to another level"

The times they are 'changin'

After days of low overcast and long periods of rainfall, the clouds have finally lifted revealing a snow line well down the mountain from where it was the last time it could be seen only days before.

Patches of wispy snow fill the hollows at the base of the mountain on its north side, the residue from whatever fell during the night. Transparent pans of thin ice that broke away from shore float down the river. More snow clings in larger amounts to the gravel and silt along the bank where it is still in the shadow of the mountain.

Across the river two moose stand at the water's edge looking and listening nervously, being much more exposed than they are comfortable with and a long way from the safety of the forest behind them. Occasionally one or the other dips its head to take a drink from the water flowing past.

A little farther along the bald eagle glares out over the water from its perch in a huge cottonwood tree where it has returned to take up its winter residence.

Overhead a raven flaps by. On a quiet day you can actually hear their wings as they beat the air. A black bird in winter without the usual camouflage most animals require. This apparently serves two purposes. For one the dark color absorbs what warmth the sun rations out and second the story goes they taste or smell so bad to predators that they are left alone. You seldom see ravens and gulls in the same place. Crows yes, but not ravens. I used to figure they were the same bird, wearing white in summer to reflect the heat of the sun and then black in winter to absorb it. Of course like the society matron, what fashionable bird would wear white after labor day anyway?

Winter has begun to slip its silent shroud over the country.

Sixty-nine

I had a great idea for a blog post a little while ago and now I can't remember what it was. Senior moment? Save the jokes. They get tiresome and so do those instances where you are saying a sentence and all of a sudden a word totally escapes you, or you can't remember the words to a song, or the author of a favorite book slips from memory. Every time that happens there is a moment of panic: Is this it? Is this the start of it? Is this the beginning of the slow descent into that feared state of dementia?

The jokes don't help. Like this one. An old man is sitting at a table in a diner, obviously weeping. A waitress comes over and asks him if anything is wrong. He looks at her and says, "I have a beautiful young wife. We have sex, great sex, anytime I want. She is a great cook, she keeps the house great and she is intelligent and we always have something to talk about." The waitress asks him what is wrong with that, to which he replies, "I can't remember how to get home."

That aside, I had an idea about this sort of thing. Yes, they are senior moments, but not the too obvious simple loss of memory. The next time some youngster thinks it's funny having a senior moment, I am going to give him this. Look, sonny, I have lived much longer than you, and I have absorbed a whole lot more information than you have, and it just takes a little longer to sort through the database and come up with the correct piece of data. That's all it is, more stuff to look at before you find what you want.

Well, what about the idea that short term memory is what goes first. Got an answer for that too. That is new stuff that hasn't been filed yet, so your brain doesn't know exactly where to look for it. Instead it searches the huge mass of filed older information before it looks in the piles on the desk waiting to be organized and put in the proper places. If it takes too long, well, just give up and look later.

So, the real problem is not loss of memory but data management. What we need is a way to clear the disk cache and another to defrag the hard drive. Find those processes and there goes memory loss in a heartbeat.

Oh, and the great idea I had for a blog post, but forgot? This was it all along. I didn't forget anything. If the title fooled you, that is your dirty mind, not mine. It does have significance but figuring out what is up to you youngsters. Let's see what you come up with.

Things to like about Alaska today

That first breath of crisp, cold, clean air when you step outdoors.

Clean white snow on the mountaintops so bright against the cobalt blue sky it almost hurts your eyes.

That first little skid of winter on some ice you didn’t expect..

Driving home under northern lights green across the sky with spires reaching higher into the stratosphere, obscured some by a bright full hunter's moon.

But, most of all, the humor. The Alaska humor with such a sense of place.



This photo was posted on Facebook today by someone named Diane McEachern who is a friend of a friend. It cracks me up every time I look at it. By the end of the day it had 3,664 "likes" and 1,952 "shares."

‘Got out of town on a boat for the southern islands....

“...sailing a reach for a following sea.
“She was making for the trades on the outside
“on a downhill run to Papeete.
“Off the wind on this heading lie the Marquesas.
“She’s got 80 feet on the waterline,
“nice for making way.
“From a noisy bar in Avalon I tried to call you ...”

Still waiting for that phone call, the kind that should come on a breezy blustery fall day. Late August, early September when Lord Hinchinbrook beckons you to the entry into and exit from Alaska’s Prince William Sound. Set a course due south through the entrance and once the islands disappear behind you, the next land you’ll see is Hawaii. You go as long before the Equinox as you can to avoid the Gulf of Alaska’s violent storms and make for those trades on the outside.

Usually, though, we go down the inside, ducking past Cape Spencer into the Inside Passage ever southward through Southeastern Alaska and British Columbia to Puget Sound.

On one such trip we reached Elfin Cove in the morning, having made an uneventful Gulf crossing, ate breakfast at the inn there and fueled up before heading generally eastward through Icy Strait past the mouth of Glacier Bay with its humpback whales feeding near us. Night fell and in darkness we motored along through a still, clear night with a bit of a moon reflecting on water so smooth it didn’t even distort the moonbeam, the calm sort of night when sound carries over long distances. Even motoring, a sailboat is fairly quiet and the calm of the night let this lone sailor slip into reverie, barely conscious of the detail of the world around me but watching nevertheless.

In that tranquility was when I learned humpback whales have a sense of humor. As we made the turn south into Chatham Strait. alone in the cockpit and lost in reverie an explosion burst so close to me, I must have jumped clear out of my seat; at the very least I jumped clear out of my reverie in time to watch the whale slip back below the surface of the water right next to the boat, not in a dive, but simply sinking out of sight, barely making a riffle. Then came the realization. In case you haven’t heard a whale breathe, that sound can be heard over long distances. Up close it is loud and sharp as the animal rises and exhales; that was the explosion I heard, and then the whale disappeared without a sound never to be seen again.

It struck me that whale did it on purpose. Humpback whales have that curve to their mouths that looks like a smirk and that night I realized why. I imagined the whale swimming just below the surface close to the boat and seeing that lonely sailor lost in his thoughts up there so relaxed. The whale thinks, “watch this,” rises and exhales right next to him, scaring him totally out of his wits, then sinks into the depths laughing a bubbly whale laugh while the startled sailor tries to figure out what happened, his reverie shattered for the rest of that watch.

“... thinking ‘bout how many times I have fallen;
spirits are using me, larger voices calling...”

--“Southern Cross” Crosby, Stills and Nash

THE PHOTO: A humpback waves off the coast of California near San Francisco Bay. Or is it a whale version of the bird?

Time we have wasted on the way...

... in front of the tube and so, so many questions

Why.....
... can't the bad guys hit anything with a machine gun while the good guys take them down with one shot?
... does every law enforcement officer have to put up with a threatening boss?
... is almost every new police department supervisor black and usually a woman?
... are all husbands doofuses in sitcoms and commercials?
... does a camera shutter sound like a cannon going off and how many pictures of one thing do they need anyway?
... is almost every police officer in trouble with internal affairs?
... do so many police guys and their families eventually become crime victims? Does this happen often in real life?
... does every new sitcom have to deal with young people sorting out love interests?
... how do women crime scene investigators and police detectives manage to walk over soggy ground in high-heeled shoes or even run after perps in them
... is every suspect called a "perp" and every victim called a "vic?" I get the idea one writer heard those words used and decided every cop in every city in the country uses the very same words. And then every writer on every cop show picked them up and now that's all they are called. "Castle" had a great episode addressing this. He used the word perp and two cops asked why do you writers all call them perps. Then every time they encountered each other for the rest of the episode, the cops offered up synonyms. It was a great running gag.



And speaking of "Castle," it is one show that has been good on the originality side. Particularly cool are the poker games with real crime writers. But, as the 2011 season approached i was a little worried. The detective precinct captain was killed in the last episode of the previous season. The first hint of things going south was when Detective Beckett was shot in that same episode. That was supposed to be a cliffhanger, but who would ever have believed they would kill off Beckett? The whole situation meant some changes in the paradigm. A few days before the first episode was scheduled to broadcast this fall, I told a friend of my fears and offered to bet on the new situation. I said I hoped the show didn't fall into cliche but I was afraid the new supervisor would try to get rid of Castle and be tough on Beckett. I said if they really went the whole way into cliche the new captain would be a woman and most likely black. I also suggested that the new black woman precinct captain would get a call from Castle's friend the mayor telling her to let him stay and that she would resent it. Honestly this was a bet I wanted to lose. Besides the show remaining strongly original, I would get to have dinner with a wonderful friend. But guess what. First of all she wouldn't take the bet, but worse, has anyone seen the first episode of "Castle" this year? Every damn one of those things happened. It was pleasant to see in the second episode the captain was already softening toward Castle. Though probably unrealistic at least it allows the writers to get out of that cliche quickly. When i used to write editorials I realized I was only criticizing and maybe I should look for alternatives at least and solutions at best. How about this? Precinct captain is older than Beckett. Suppose she took a shine to Castle and competed with Beckett for his attention, or maybe even more, she sees a writer who has a connection to the mayor as a person who can publicize her actions as a way to gain favor, publicity and and help promote her career aspirations. Either of those situations would give the writers some new avenues to explore as plot twists rather than repeat old ones of conflict between cop and supervisor. (HInt, hint: I am here and keeping an eye out for interesting work. Call me. And i didn't make a hand motion of a phone to my ear and mouth those words.)


Did you envy all the dancers who had all the nerve?

Lyric quotes from Crosby Stills and Nash

With apologies to Lykke Li

Like a shotgun needs an outcome
there's a lilac fence
they ain't gonnn get none

One can hope anyway... these ought to at least discourage the moose, plus if snow sticks to it, it disguises them a little. Might put some plywood over the top just for added protection. First real frost overnight and it pulped that last few tomatoes, but oh well, got half a dozen ripening on the kitchen table along with the geraniums.



Tore out the pea plants and saved the posts for next year.

Look at the huge petunias still. I know i will buy another flat of those next year.

And, that contest is still going on about what's different. And the change is very visible in one of these pictures. No, it's not the clean car. It's a real nickel. You never know, it might be worth more than five cents.

BULLETIN: We have a winner. The nickel is claimed. It's the paint on the window trim. The early photos of this garden seemed to all have some chipped fading flaking paint in them. It looked bigger in the pictures than it did in real life but it was enough for me to go buy a can of paint and take care of it. Now if someone gets the record that was set a couple of posts ago, all the contests will be satisfied and we'll have to come up with a new one.

Me and Eric

Cruising on a beautiful fall day, even carrying a camera. Lots of yellow leaves flashing back the sunlight;, a crispness in the air that tells you it is full on fall and warns about what is coming next. Vintage Clapton blaring on the Jeep radio and school kids laughing at the old guy singing and rocking out at the stop signs and lights. Old guys don't sing rock and roll. Well if Clapton and the Stones are still going so are their original fans. Deal with it. Picking up materials for the winter, mostly stout fencing for the lilac bushes to prevent moose attacks. Something to employ before the shotgun. Pretty sure the state would not allow the property defense plea for protecting lilacs. Picked up a few of those steel t=bar fenceposts too, to secure the wire fencing for the winter and then use them to build a better growing stand for next summer's peas. Petunias are still blooming and huge; the rest are beginning to show the effects of the cooler nights and lesser amounts of daylight. All in all the kind of fall day that makes you appreciate living where there are four seasons even though two of them seem to happen in an instant. On we go, still immersed in my writing project. Laaaaaaaaayyyy laaaaaaaaaa Electric and acoustic. In case you kids don't know it, Clapton is God. You can google it,

Lead on to the promised land

When Clapton was God

You just have to love her....

... for linking to these kids

A new mystery

I have always thought I had a good handle on geography. If somebody gave a place name I at the very least knew where on the map to look. That was true until just about every nation east of the Prime Meridian decided to change its name. The area i have chosen to call the "stans" comes to mind. You know, all those places in southcentral Asia that changed their names after the fall of the Soviet Union, and that all end in "stan." Still I can find most places. But, today there was a hit on this blog from a place where I didn't even know there was a place. The notation on the revolving map didn't even give a region or a place name, just a red dot in the Gulf of Guinea off the west coast of Africa. I had to enlarge the Google map almost to its extreme before anything showed up, but there were three islands named in that gulf and a few other smaller ones. There are lots of random hits so it's not certain that connection came from anyone I know, but it is kind of cool to log a hit from that part of the world.

I wondered what the connection might be. Then while looking along the shoreline of the continent, there it was, the mouth of the Niger River. And, believe it or not, that geographic feature has a strong connection with Alaska, someone I know could actually be there. To begin with the Niger River area and the Gulf of Guinea may be one of the biggest oil exploration areas in the world no one ever heard of. In my days working in oil spill response I met boat captains who operated work boats, rig tenders, crew boats, anchoring boats and mud boats in that area supporting oil industry work. They had wonderful stories to tell and several nights in wheelhouses I enjoyed those stories.

One that stuck with me was the description of a visit one night in which a couple of men in a small boat approached them and were welcomed aboard. No, they were not pirates, at least not in the traditional sense though in time they may turn out to be. These guys were employees of Royal Dutch Shell which has a large presence in the area. Over coffee and small talk the Shell people asked the boat crew if they had any company logo hats or jackets they would be willing to trade. It turned out Shell was not very popular with the locals there. Hated, even. And the natives had even shot at them on occasion as they worked along the river. Later i did a little reading about it and it came up that Shell may have been responsible in one way or another for moving and maybe destroying whole villages with some violence involved. Of course this may be easier to say than to prove, but one thing stands out -- that most often when an oil installation or a pipeline there has been attacked by locals, it is owned by Shell. These guys on the boat just wanted to disguise themselves so they could do their work without being shot at. Later I learned Shell employees had also approached Chevron people for the same reason.

The Alaska connection? That same company is now preparing to explore in the Chukchi Sea and the Beaufort Sea northwest and north of Alaska --- THE ARCTIC OCEAN. Their assurances to everyone are that it is perfectly safe and they've made comparisons to the Gulf of Mexico spill last summer saying the Alaska drilling is much safer largely because the wells will be shallower and at lower pressures. I wonder if they are also safer because Arctic Ocean pack ice will protect them. They have also employed a small fleet of boats for oil spill response. As I recall two larger mud boat types and half a dozen smaller boats. The next closest response equipment is a small cache at Prudhoe Bay from a coop I don't think they belong to, and after that it's more than a thousand miles to any other spill response equipment. A response in winter would be near impossible, especially if ice in the area hinders the work. Given their history in Africa, they probably think they can handle the folks who live along Alaska's Arctic coast as well.

You have to wonder how long it will be before Shell employes begin approaching Crowley tow boats bringing supplies to villages in northwest Alaska, seeking hats and jackets to camouflage themselves so they can hide from angry Eskimo whalers.

Oh, and speaking of mysteries: This post marks another record. A nickel to anyone who figures it out.