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Friday, February 26, 2016

The legend of Adak Charlie

The following is an excerpt from the book 
Keep the Round Side Down.

By Tim Jones
Copyright©Tim Jones
 We come off them square riggers in a hurry onct they shet down the whaling.  We's comin' down the Bering Sea out of the Arctic when we heard, and the Skip, well, he says, What you want to do? and I says, well, I heard they was doin' some high-priced fishing right there in the Aleutian Chain.  But, I also heard they was the roughest kinda sailors and I'd jest as soon head back for home.  So the Skip, right predictable like he was, he says he's dumpin' me ashore at Adak and to go pack my kit.  He says how we done so poorly my share don't come to passage to San Francisco, so he's tyin' her up right there and I could just go about takin' care of myself.
So, pretty soon there we was in Adak way out there so close we might as wella been in Siberia, which we might as well a been in anyways by the look of things.  Just a little island out there, somethin' you could trip over if you wasn't watching, it was so small.  Anyway, I bends my head into the horizontal rain and goes alookin' for some kinda ride.  Weren't too many of them square riggers left no more and I didn't know what I was goin' to do.  I jest went along hunchin' into that wind and rain proceeding one step forward and two steps back with my slicker a flappin' and that's when I run into Adak Charlie.
A course, nobody runs into Adak Charlie, he more runs over you.  What I did was commence to crawl over this little hill until I realizes its the big bulb toe of a bigger rubber boot and I looks up and there was Charlie, well, at least there was Charlie's knees.  Well, that man stood tall as a mainmast and just as straight and he blocked out the sun; at least he woulda blocked out the sun if there'd a been one.  The sun showed up so little out there most folks didn't really believe there was one except now and again somebody'd recall seein' it one time or the other.  Anyway, I crawls into Charlie's lee and looks up.  Sure enough up there on toppa all that rubber, they's a face.  I yells up Howdy and he yells down Howdy and I says is there any work for a honest sailor around here and he yells down he thinks they need crew on his boat and I yells up what kinda boat is it and he yells down BERING SEA CRABBER and I yells up Good-by and he yells down Ain't man enough, huh? and I yells up, Yeah, but I ain't stupid enough and right there he commences to look a little disturbed and I decides this ain't the kind of man to be callin' stupid so I decides I better ship with 'im or the whole situation could get a whole lot worse right there in the wind and the rain and the mud.
So, me and Charlie heads toward the wharf and I'm runnin' along in his lee while he's amblin' along and we gets to the ship and he steps over the gunwale and I climbs the ladder and no sooner's we aboard than I hear a engine start up somewheres and it scares me right out of my sail trim.  See, I'm a sailin' man.  I ain't never been on no steamer before and all that machinery whirlin' and growlin' kin get to a man used to the quiet creakin' in the rigging.  I'm lookin' around for masts and canvas and the boat's moving and against the wind and I'm wonderin' how that could be when Charlie, he points to the focs'l and says. "Stow your gear."
Well, I walks down the companionway and runs into the roughest lookin' bunch a thugs ever turned a windlass.  There was more eyepatches than a herd of spotted dogs and more scars than one doctor coulda ever sewed up in a lifetime of stitchin' and they looks at me and I looks at them and to myself I curses the Skip real hard for leavin' me to this and then onea these thugs points to a empty bunk and grins so hard the scar that run from his port side ear to clear under his chin turns so bright red he looks like he's smilin' twice.
We cleared  port and heads out to sea and Twice-smilin', that was his name I swear by St. Elmo's fire, he says sleep some, but I ain't sleepin' with that bunch of criminals in attendance.  I did lay down but I keeps one eye cocked, but I musta dozed some 'cause I hear this big CLANK and it wakes me up and I says what's that, and Twice-Smilin' says that's the first buoy and to hit the deck and then there's this other big clank and he says that's the other buoy and we goes up on deck and Twice-smilin' starts to showin' me the lines.  I says I thought you picked little rubber buoys outta the water where the pots was and he says that's the way most of 'em do it but that was too slow for the likes of Adak Charlie and what he does is run with these two big magnets and when they come up on one of his steel buoys, them buoys jest fly outta the water and clangs into them magnets.  "Saves a lotta time findin’ ‘em in the dark, too," Twice-smilin' says.
Well, we's standing there in rubber suits from head to toe and I says what's we supposed to do and Twice-smilin' starts explainin'.  He says on most boats a guy stands there by this here little wheel pulley sort of a contraption, they call it a power block.  Well, I ain't used to this power stuff and I got to ask just how many sailors it takes to power this thing and Twice-smilin', he shows me this know-it-all grin you save for a child, only twice, and he says it's the engine does all that powerin'.  Anyway, he says one guy usually stands there and coils the line from the crab pot as it comes up through that block and one guy he runs the engine controls.  I seen a guy in my mind with a whip floggin' them sailors to power that block, that's the kinda controls we use on the square-riggers.  So, when the pot comes up over the side a coupla other guys wrassle it around and separate the crabs and put in new bait and toss her overboard again.  I asks Twice-smilin' what I'm supposed to do and he says, "Wrasslin'."

Tuesday, February 23, 2016

Another descent into that methamphetamine mind

WARNING:  There are only one other posts like this that have appeared on this blog before. It is an excerpt from something I am working on and another experiment on my part. Be aware there is some rough language and drug and sex references. It's an instant-messaging internet conversation between a meth-addicted young sometimes prostitute and a lonely old man in his 60s with all the inherent typographical errors intact.
All material Copyright©Tim Jones

And the conversation resumes
whaleman: was there ever a guy you really liked or loved
whaleman: oh wait
whaleman: or woman for that matter,  someone?
BetCbball: lol
BetCbball: nice catch
whaleman: so    about being in love,  ever?
BetCbball: no
BetCbball: not then
whaleman: only your boyfriend from high school then?
BetCbball: ya
whaleman: any idea why you never did get serious with anyone
BetCbball: thinking....
BetCbball: i mean there are lots of reasons
whaleman: yeah  i would guess there are
BetCbball: not sure they are all true
whaleman: those count
whaleman: too
BetCbball: i dont trust people
whaleman: was that from the start or did it develop along the wauy?
BetCbball: my parents showed me i couldnt trust anyone
whaleman: oh  so that is where the trust issue started   that makes  a lot of sense
BetCbball: plus..when when i was floating i didnt really find anyone i connected with
whaleman: a lesson i didn't learn until my son's mother
BetCbball: lucky you
whaleman: yeah but when it caught up to me it was a real doozy
BetCbball: im sorry that happened to you peter
whaleman: it's all right
whaleman: i survived
BetCbball: ya you did
whaleman: but not unchanged
BetCbball: ya i get it
whaleman: see,  in the book, the girl falls in love with a guy
whaleman: it just showed up though, so it may end up in disaster
whaleman: and i was just wondering if something like that had happened to you
BetCbball: no
whaleman: 'i didn't think so/
BetCbball: that would have gotten me in big trouble
BetCbball: plus when you dont like yourself its hard to like other peopl

Monday, February 22, 2016

If you've been watching this space …

This photo of a flooded driveway in my neighborhood was
posted on facebook yesterday by Casandra Lynn Moffitt.
Here's what became of the storm forecast from a couple of days ago. South of here on the Kenai Peninsula, folks received up to 30 inches of heavy, wet snow. Here it rained for 22 hours straight. And it rained farther to the north around the East Pole as well.  Happy winter. But that isn't even the worst of it.

This headline showed up in yesterday's news after the predicted storm. "Love it or hate it, Alaska's warm winter is predicted to last until breakup." It's posted on facebook as the worst forecast ever. Why? Because it could be the end of East Pole trips until the mud dries sometime in June. I've always bridled at people who just to be contrary say they like lots of snow or lots of rain or any kind of inclemency. Now I am becoming one of them.  I want winter to last until the end of March.

March has always been my favorite time at the East Pole. I've made it a point to get out there for at least a few days every March since I built the cabin almost 30 years ago. Usually there have been clear skies with high temperatures ranging from the teens to the mid 30s. Sub freezing temperatures at night help maintain the snow cover which has compacted over the winter. That combination makes getting around on foot, on snowshoes and with the snowmachine fairly easy and you can go anywhere. The rising afternoon sun that sends its light directly at the west-facing deck creating almost t shirt weather for sitting out and enjoying an afternoon beer.

Having enjoyed the month out there in December, I have been planning to spend another month in March. Some gear is already packed and in the Jeep and even have some new videos and books coming from Amazon. But that trip is all in jeopardy now. The extended forecast calls for high temperatures in the 40s well into the first weekend in March, about two weeks from now. And then that headline showed up, essentially saying this is the end of winter as we know it. We can look forward to warmer than usual weather with lots of rain predicted for the foreseeable future.

On first seeing that headline I had two reactions. Oddly the first was an almost relaxing feeling as I looked around here and realized, well I am living here now and I had better make the best of it. It was like the stress of planning, packing and going had been relieved and instead of looking forward to something, I could live in the moment. For weeks it's like I have just been waiting for the time I could get back out to the Pole and now I have to look toward actually living here. But then the other, more disheartening thought came to mind. I might not be able to go. The trail may be too bad to travel or I could get out there and get stuck there.

But then the thought went to a broader vision of cosmic proportions. Is this the first effect of climate change on the individual, at least in the north? Am I the first one who has to adjust plans, changing the thought process about what winter entails and what that means for the way I live? To be sure there are some aspects of this particular winter that would temper the idea of permanent change, principal among them being the huge El Nino that affected West Coast weather this year. But what if it is going to be this way from now on. Over the past few years there have been several warm, wet spells in January and February and as one friend says, "anything that happens twice in a row is normal."

Then there was the worst thought of all. In being unable to get to a place where I am psychologically centered, I am somehow trapped in this gray, snowless habitat with no outlet. In essence my escape route has been cut off and there is no detour around the obstacle. Now, that's when climate change becomes personal.

Sunday, February 21, 2016

Hello are we on the same wavelength?


But I'm just a soul whose intentions are good
Oh Lord, please don't let me be misunderstood – The Animals

Some days I have to wonder if I am even writing in the same language. I suppose nuance is lost online but some things I write seem to just go over people's heads or worse they are taken literally or maybe I am not writing clearly enough.

For example that picture. I love that picture as it illustrates how difficult it is to get a good bird picture and makes fun a bit of my own meager abilities in the attempts to get one. Some time ago, I posted it on facebook with a caption that said something like "Chased a downy woodpecker all over the yard and this was the best I could come up with."

One commenter very seriously advised I shouldn't chase, I should hide and sneak up on them or sit in ambush and wait for them to come to the feeder and then gave examples about how she did it. (Hiding behind her iPad.) Did the writer really think I was running around the yard in pursuit of a bird? Never mind.

On another day I posted this on facebook: "I'm not quite sure what this says about the world or my life these days but I just got my monthly gasoline credit card bill. $29.68. And, worse or better, I'm not sure, I still have half a tank."

Two people commented about the gas mileage they are getting and how many miles one had driven on a trip in the past month. Again, good grief. 

I thought it was a comment on how sedentary my life had become, again making fun of myself. Where is Bill Engvall when we really need him, "Here's your sign."

Word is if a writer is misunderstood, it is his own fault for not writing clearly. Perhaps those could have been written better, or maybe it's a toss up.



Saturday, February 20, 2016

Come on, guys. Is it going to snow or not?

This map shows the amount of predicted snowfall that 

leads to a Weather Advisory for various zones in Alaska.
So, finally after about two months, there is snow in the forecast. That was late morning when the National Weather Service issued a Winter Storm Watch. But by 4 p.m. that had been cancelled in favor of a Winter Weather Advisory, which it might be assumed, means maybe snow.

This map shows the amount of predicted snowfall that 

leads to a Winter Storm Warning.
Over the past 40 years as a mariner and back country traveler, I have watched the quality of weather forecasting improve tremendously, particularly as satellite information came into use and provide a wealth of reliable data that can be applied to what often had been the best guesswork of weather forecasting.

The problem is, with more accurate data comes a refined format for disseminating it. Now there is a series of winter forecast stages, watch, advisories, warnings, storm advisories, storm warnings, blizzard warnings, each with its own definition and separating it for all the others. And in forecasts, the terminology often opens with the most severe warning and most eventually are dialed back to watches or advisories.

The problem is, particularly in Alaska, there are lots of people who haven't experienced a winter yet and so when a storm warning comes up, just like elsewhere people tend to put off travel plans, stock up for a longer than usual stay at home, and then stare out the window looking for the snow that never comes.

I remember about a year ago hesitating about coming in from the East Pole under a storm warning.  Using my old guideline on boats, I "stuck the nose out" with the idea I would turn around if it were that bad. And, coming from the pole, I was carrying a wealth of survival gear including an operational snowmachine in case of problems. Of course it wasn't storming. I ran into a little bit of snow but nothing impassable. After growing up in Western New York with its lake effect snow and then living in Valdez, Alaska, the city in the U.S. which consistently records the deepest annual snowfall, I have found it is seldom that  weather makes it impossible to travel. Usually the most dangerous part of it is other drivers, not anything the weather dumps on us.

So here we are late afternoon on a Saturday on a day that started with a Winter Storm Watch, now reduced to a Winter Weather Advisory and who knows where it goes from here. Rain? Overcast? Sunny and warm? Or does it build back up into that snowstorm they promised earlier in the week?

Part of the problem is confusion over terms. Advisory, watch, warning. At first glance you ask yourself what does that mean.  There are guidelines and plenty of information available but just a casual glance at a forecast, who stops to figure it out? I have an idea to simplify the categories and instead of trying to take quasi-scientific terms to explain things, use common language. I choose these categories: It's going to snow; It might snow; It probably won't snow. How much it is expected to snow doesn't really matter. And in the paragraph that goes along with the warning, the forecast could include more details like how much.

So by those criteria the warning has been reduced from it's going to snow to it might snow. Even as kind of a weather junkie, I'm good with that.

And overnight should tell the tale. Watch this space.

Wednesday, February 10, 2016

Happy Valentine's Day

Several years ago on impulse I bought a supermarket rose bush. You know the ones, they are on a rack just outside the door, dozens of them, their sparse twigs sticking out from the plastic wrapped around their roots. After walking past them for several weeks, one day I decided eight bucks were worth taking the chance so I brought one home and planted it in the garden where it would get as much sun as possible.

That first year it might have sprouted a couple of leaves and that's about it. The plant has never done very well outdoors and grows very little and never blossoms as far back as I can remember. Still I have kept it, dutifully bringing it indoors every winter and taking it outdoors again in the spring.

During its second winter here it surprised me with a flower in February as if it were sending out a Valentine greeting.

This is the one from Feb. 12, 2013.
One you could accept as a coincidence, but it hasn't been just one. Every February since the first one the plant has blossomed in the second month within a week either way of Valentine's Day.

So this year, the plant gave me my usual Valentine a few days ahead of the 14th and it's especially welcome this winter, a splash of color in the grayest January and February of recent memory.

Monday, February 8, 2016

Karma



For all the good-natured abuse I endured as the self-proclaimed, unmitigated, oldest Lil Monster in the world, I feel totally vindicated.





Click the YouTube link from the next screen.

In case there is any doubt (Sound of Music medley at the Oscars)

And several other mentions.

Saturday, February 6, 2016

A series of unfortunate events

You have to pay attention all the time.
A story showed up today in the Alaska Dispatch News about an Anchorage student who died while skiing alone in Montana. It was a fairly short story but it appeared the fellow was experienced. A line in that story stood out and it's something we all should listen to and store in memory.

It goes: "It appeared Wright had an equipment malfunction that led to a series of events that ended with his death."

Small events add up. Years ago 1980 Iditarod champion Joe May told me about an experience during the race in which it happened to him. He had loaned some equipment to another musher who had some problems and then Joe ran into a severe blizzard that drove him into a snow cave on the Seward Peninsula wondering if he would survive. Things add up.

Though my experience this week pales in comparison to those two, the lesson still applies and as my situation deteriorated, I could tell too much was going wrong. Fortunately I never came close the point of no return and at the point where I turned back I was not far from accessible help.

We may never know exactly what string of events developed that led to Nathaniel Wright's death but the message should be carried on, and it goes back to the old saw "for want of a nail the shoe was lost; for want of a shoe, the horse was lost, for want of a horse the general was lost; for want of a general the battle was lost …"

In my case it could have been that  Bic lighter that should have been in my survival pack. In Joe's case it was the heavy winter pants and mittens that he had loaned to his fellow musher and in Nathanial Wright's case something broke and that led through that series of events that eventually killed him.

There is another lesson here, one explained by Iditarod musher Donna Gentry Massay. She lost the trail during a race somewhere in the area where Joe had holed up a year or two before. When she realized she was off the trail and wasn't sure exactly sure where she was, she "stopped and wrote it all out in the snow." In other words she traced her path with a finger in the snow making a makeshift map that helped her figure out how to get back to the trail. I have used that phrase often, "writing it out in the snow." To me it means sometimes when things are going wrong, you have to stop and think your way through whatever problem you are having and figure out where you went wrong, take stock so to speak and gather your wits. That was the process the led me to turn around and go home Monday.

As a friend who is experienced in the Bush commented on yesterday's post, we are constantly learning new lessons. And, too, we shouldn't be forgetting the old ones.

Here is a more detailed version of the incident in Montana. Note that he left his emergency kit in his car.

Wednesday, February 3, 2016

Some days the medicine doesn't work, or, why a bald guy has a hair dryer

Vidal in his wildest dreams could not have foreseen this.
Waking up after only an hour of sleep should have been enough of a warning that this was going to
turn into a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day, the kind Judith Viorst wrote about so eloquently. But it wasn't.

All I wanted to do was take a day trip to the East Pole to check for any damage that might have been done during a magnitude 7.1 earthquake that had shaken the whole area about a week earlier. Though it was 200 miles away it rattled this house pretty good and was the first earthquake where I felt the floor rise and fall as if on waves.

The cabin survived a 7.9 some years ago that didn't even tip over wine glasses standing upside down in a dish drainer, but still, you worry.

So after realizing there would be no more sleep I decided to head out. First the lock on the snowmachine trailer had frozen so I couldn't hook up until I burned it open. That should have been a warning but it never registered.

Everything had been packed for almost a week so it was just fire up and drive off. Four miles down the road I realized I had forgotten something I just could not go without, so I had to go back.

Quick stop at the grocery for some water and go-juice, to the gas station where I discovered the little zipper flap in the weather cover that allows access to the snowmachine filler cap was frozen and no amount of strain was going to free it. Eventually I managed to loosen one side of the cover to put in three gallons of gas and some Heat, some of which I managed to spill because of the odd angle I had to hold the hose. Another unheeded warning.

That done I made a quick stop at McDonald's. Egg mcmuffins are the only thing I will eat from there and they have become part of the ritual going to the cabin. Took the bag and a jug of milk back to the Jeep and tossed them in. That was the last I saw of that milk until I got home later in the day.
Off I went for the highway to the East Pole. Now, this Jeep's heater is next to worthless when the temperature drops much below 20. I had on only the clothing I wear under my Carhartt suit and as I progressed along the road I began feeling chilled more and more, but that didn't register.

By the time I reached the trailhead I couldn't wait to get into my suit and move around to warm up. Fortunately I decided the first thing I should do is make sure the snowmachine started before I began taking anything off the trailer. I could tell I was not warming up, still felt the chill and began to question whether I was making good decisions. I have been seriously hypothermic a couple of times and was beginning to suspect the signs.

The main latch-down for the snowmachine had frozen in and I had to take a hammer to it to loosen it. Then I pulled the cover off the machine and went to put the key into the ignition. Guess what? Frozen solid. I doubt I could have pounded it in with a hammer. That's when you start taking a mental inventory. I always carry a Bic lighter in my survival pack. Except this time. I dumped the whole thing out in the Jeep and there wasn't a lighter. There was, however a flint and steel. Good luck with that. At this point I was beginning to realize I might not be thinking straight. A few recriminations showed up as well, like why hadn't I suspected this when the trailer lock was frozen or when the zipper in the cover wouldn't open?

I could go get a lighter or matches, come back, try to thaw it and head in. Fortunately I didn't do that. You count things up. I don't have to go. If I was living there I would do it, but I'm not. I am not warming up very much. If something went wrong on the trail I could find myself in worse trouble. Old Lodgeskins came to mind and I realized the medicine wasn't working. What also came to mind was something an Iditarod racer had pointed out – that seemingly insignificant things can build up one after another until you are in serious trouble. I'd already had enough of those for the day. Right then and there I decided to cut the losses and go home.

Recovered and tied down the machine, climbed in the Jeep and headed down the road still wearing every bit of winter gear I had brought. An hour and a half later I pulled into the yard and stopped the Jeep in the middle of everything. I still felt chilled. In such a hurry I didn't park it as much as I abandoned it. In the house I ripped off all my clothes and hit the shower until I had used up every drop of hot water. I made a quick bowl of tomato soup and ate it, then I crawled into bed under four heavy blankets and slept for three hours. Even after that when I woke up I had to start a fire in the wood stove to stay warm.

I had to tell all that so that now I can tell you what this post is really all about. After all this, two days later the snowmachine ignition was still frozen solid. Why anyone would put an ignition on an almost horizontal surface is amazing. It is bound to collect water. It did rain in the past week but I had a cover on the machine ­– didn't matter. Given that the ignition is close to the filler hole for fuel, open flames like a lighter or a match were out the question. Even an overnight soaking in Lock-Eze didn't do it. Another time to sit down and take an inventory; what did I have that could do this job? For once the answer came almost immediately. The hair dryer. Thawed in less than a minute. New medicine.

And now thoughts go to prevention in the future. This isn't a problem at the pole because I never remove the key out there, but out here in civilization there is a much larger chance for theft so leaving the key isn't an option. And, I usually have to run the machine to load it onto the trailer just before I leave so I would automatically know if something were wrong, but this time it had been on the trailer for more than a week. I think the ignition at one time had a removable cover on it that fell off somewhere along the way. This after all is my son's machine which I don't use often and over the years he had it not much maintenance had been done. So he easily could have lost that cover. I will check that with a dealer. Next thought was a 12-volt hair dryer I could run off the car battery. 

Maybe. For now though, I will just make sure to check it before I depart if I don't have to run it and once under way leave a key in the slot. Also in the future I will dress better even in the car when it gets too cold for that heater. Preventive medicine.

Meanwhile I am going to have to trust the cabin is OK until I go out in March.