Ferries stopped? How about a floating supermarket?

All tied up. But …

My stint as editorial editor of my college newspaper offered up a number of lessons, chief among them was the idea that if you are going to criticize something, you ought to have some sort of solution in mind. From that day forward I always tried to offer a solution, some of them were pretty far-fetched but what the heck ideas have to start somewhere.

Last year Alaska's trumpish governor decided the state ferry system could withstand a substantial budget cut. Though the legislature forced some money back into the state budget the system had to cut back considerably. Eventually a few mechanical breakdowns forced further service cuts until as of this writing, not one

ferry is operating. Alaskans, particularly in Southeastern depend on the ferries as they are the only reliable link with the rest of the world. They take ferries to visit a hospital, to shop, for school sports events and other travel opportunities, and for

vital supplies like food and diapers. Now several towns that depend on the ferries are running out of those supplies. Visiting basketball teams have been stranded; anyone who took a vehicle when he left home has no way to get it back to his town, store shelves are empty.

More budget cuts have been proposed for this year and there are still those mechanical breakdowns to be fixed. This is a vital service for a number of Alaskans and the governor doesn't seem to care.

Well I have a solution. Suppose the large Alaska marketers

develop floating supermarkets. They could stock them like regular stores. What I see is two ships: One starting in Ketchikan and heading north and the other one starting in Juneau and moving south (after a side trip to Haines and Skagway). Each one way trip could be timed for a week which would mean every town on the schedule would see a market twice a week. It's possible the vessels could even set up doctors' offices and other services, even a pharmacy to offer prescriptions. It might prove profitable enough to keep operating after the ferry system fires up again no matter what form it takes when it comes back on schedule. The vessels could resupply at Juneau and Ketchikan which have other supply connections.

I'm talking to you @safeway and you, @fredmeyer.

Even better, with all the expansion 3 Bears has been growing, an Alaska company, this might be perfect for them and for the people they would serve as they are something of a warehouse sort of retail store. Given the warehouse concept, maybe a visit once every two weeks would work. Obviously there is a lot more involved. But why not start thinking about it?

And instead of writing your congressman, write to Safeway and Fred Meyer and 3 Bears.

Safeway customer contact

Fred Meyer customer service

3 Bears customer service

Book report: One of Alaska's top photographers tells his story

Wild Shots

A Photographer's Life in Alaska

By Tom Walker

Mountaineers Press

Anyone who's ever seen a photo of a wild animal and thought, "oh, that’s cute," or "that's a little scary" or maybe just "lucky shot" and then turned the page or scrolled past it, ought to take the time to read Tom Walker's book Wild Shots.

In it Tom takes us through his life from the days as a teen in what amounts to wilderness in Southern California to the wilds of Alaska, spending days and weeks searching for that one shot, that defining moment in an animal's life that leads to understanding. From reading his descriptions of his camps, his long treks through all measure of terrain and all kinds of weather, you come to understand you have to be in the right place at the right time in order to have the luck that offers the opportunity to make the photo.

From battling hordes of mosquitos to weathering temperatures well below zero, Tom persisted in his pursuit of that perfect photo often finding disappointment when the animal turned the wrong way at the last moment or another came along and chased it away, or worse, caught it and ate it.

In the book Tom shares his incredible body of knowledge about wildlife habits, habitat, seasonal movement, reproduction and all kinds of behavior. In the process he presents credible arguments on the necessity for preserving wild animals and their wild habitat.

But the heart of the book is in learning how this one man, learns as much as he can about the animals he photographs, studies them, studies their history, their lives, there positions in the food chain, whether they be killer whales at the top of the the ocean chain or brown bears at the top on land, or the voles and lemmings near the bottom among land animals. With that knowledge he goes wherever they live whether it be high in the Brooks Range in far northern Alaska, a windswept island in the Bering Sea, a salmon-choked stream in southern Alaska or the ocean passages of Southeastern. He knows the seasons, when caribou migrate in vast herds, and with most of the animals he photographs he knows when the young are born, what their foods are and what prey they seek or what preys on them. Despite all that, sometimes it all leads to disappointment and he shares that with the reader as well. Not every expedition yields the photograph he sought. Still much of that knowledge, preparation and physical effort , patience and perseverance often lead to the moment that offers the "cute," "scary," or "lucky" shot often skipped past in a magazine or on a web site. Tom's photos deserve more respect than that. Given his approach to his work it's no wonder he is one of the top photographers in Alaska. As proof, the book is illustrated liberally with a number of the author's own marvelous wildlife photographs.

Toward the ending he reveals his favorite animal to photograph and given the variety he describes in the book, the revelation is surprising, but his reasoning for it is perfectly understandable. And the explanation reveals a personal philosophy of appreciation for animals that's evolved over his 50 years of photographing Alaska and its wild critters.

Amazon link

East Pole Journal February 8, 2020: If a tree falls in the woods …

Take a look at these two pictures. They show essentially the same scene, Denali from the cabin window. Do you notice something in the photo on the left is missing from the one on the right? If you guessed the oddly shaped tree, give yourself a nickel. The treetop which I call the seahorse tree because it looks like one of those little critters is missing.

Where oh where did that big seahorse tree go? I have thought at times I would try to find it and then ask the owners if I could cut it down for them so I could have a clear view of the mountain. It's in just about every photo I've made of the mountain over the years and had reached the nuisance point. I bet the owners would have jumped at the chance for someone to take that tree out if they could have seen into the future.

You see, I found it. Generally over the winter I check on a cabin across the main trail from mine, just to make sure it's all right, no broken windows, animal invasions, no strange changes. This year there was one. That tree. There it was leaning against my friends' cabin, about a third of it on the roof. It must have been blown down in one of the few wind storms we have here, perhaps weakened by an infestation of spruce beetles.

Seahorse tree is no more than firewood now, as soon as somebody moves it.

The owner I am closest with lives Outside now and I try to send her a picture of it every winter. It looks like someone else was in there and attempted to remove the tree. There's some kind of a safety line strung from it to another tree nearby and some of the branches up on the roof have been removed. It's a sensitive task for sure.

So, the end result? I can now have a treeless photo of the mountain, but, since I realized it, Denali has been hidden by clouds that have been dumping a lot of snow over the entire countryside between here and there. And, NO, Sue, I did NOT cut it down. LOL

And, speaking of snow

I think it's enough already when you clear your deck and you have to throw the snow uphill.

Sue responds: Sue Whittom Tim Jones: you are so funny but I think if you had figured out years ago that I owned the “seahorse” 🌲, it would have become firewood in your stove long ago😋 teehee



The East Pole Journal

East Pole Journal February 5, 2020: Life on a hillside

 The view downhill. Lower left is the pile of wood waitng to
be split. The snowmachine is about where it got stuck and
the remaining wood is down the hill to the right.

I have some pretty good trails around the cabin by this time in winter and that makes walking easier.

Still it's a hillside, steep enough that if you lean even a little the wrong way, especially if you are carrying something heavy, you are likely to tip over, or find yourself skiing down the hill or, worse, running, or falling face first into the snow. A day seldom gets by where I don't shout epithets at the cursed hill even though most days with the trail good and some traction from boots getting around is fairly simple. This week, we've had maybe 4 inches of snow over the past couple of days and that makes all those easy walking spots slippery (worse in the steeper parts where you really need traction to move uphill or slow yourself going down) and just that little bit of snow obliterates the border between hard-packed snow of the trail and the almost-waist-deep snow one step off it. Given that background here's how my day went. Mind you snow fell the whole time this was going on.

Accomplished:

Gathered enough snow to produce water to wash dishes with.

Two sled loads of firewood in the round brought up to the splitting yard in the large sled. (3x7)

Two smaller sled loads (2+ x5) split and placed in the woodpile under the house for next year.

One smaller sled load split and put on the deck to burn.

One smaller sled load of seasoned birch and spruce brought from under the house to the deck for the next couple days.

Difficulties overcome

Slipped and fell at least five times.

Slipped and skidded but eventually maintained balance too many times to count.

Stepped off the trail into deep snow three times at least (several uncountable while attending to the next item).

Got snowmachine stuck when it, too slid off the trail into deep snow and had to use a comealong to get it out.

Repaired the trail filling the hole the snowmachine made sliding off it. About half an hour of shoveling and stomping.

Soaked three pairs of gloves and one pair of mittens.

Duration: about four hours.

Early on when I first started living here more or less full time, people used to ask me what I did all day. I didn't really have an easy answer. I would say live, explaining that everything you do in the normal course of living in a house, takes longer in the woods. You don't just turn on the hot water faucet to wash the dishes (imagine one of those electric dishwashers), you have to draw water somewhere. I have found I can keep up melting snow. But when I was married and my wife came out, I ended up having to buy five-gallon containers and go a couple of miles to a creek that runs through the winter and fill four of those containers every three days or so to keep up with her usage. Then of course you have to heat it somehow and finally you can wash your dishes. Now, for heat. Those two sled loads I put under the house today toward next year, given they are spruce (which burns faster than my favored birch) they might last four days if I am conservative with it. No thermostat to turn up when it gets cold. Now multiply that by every single thing you do in a regular house and you get the idea. What do I do all day? Live.

Birds update

I've been seeing a few more redpolls these days but only a couple at a time. Not the big hordes of the past. And there's this. The chickadees have all but emptied the second 40-pound bag of sunflower seeds this winter so I have to go out tomorrow and head for the store.

But then there's the view of Denali.

The East Pole Journal

A COMMENT FROM FACEBOOK: Betty Sederquist Ha ha, you should be all settled into the Pioneers’ Home, all cozy. It would leave more time for writing. You could reminisce with others about the difficulties of hauling water. But I know that will never happen.

East Pole Journal Feb. 2, '20 Signs of Spring

Does this mean six more weeks of winter?

     I'm not one of those people who spends all winter complaining and anxious for spring. In fact,

only six more weeks of winter is not enough and I am hoping for eight. Still I don't want to be one of those people who takes a holier-than-thou attitude just because I thrive in winter and others thrive in warmer seasons.  This is me; that is you, and that is just fine.

The sun lights up the angry bluebird in the window.

     I do enjoy the changes in season, though. A year-long winter would be too much as would a year-long summer. So as the year progresses I like noticing the little signs of the change. My next seasonal indicator is spring's first kiss. That usually happens in February where one sunny day you are driving south and sunlight is coming through the car window and you feel the warmth on your cheek for the first time in that year. Some years it touches me outdoors working as well. It hasn't happened here yet, but today some other signs of the coming spring became very obvious. I hope you have seen some too.

And of course there's a ton of firewood to gather — literally, a ton…at least.