center. I have mixed feelings: on one side I have been worried about it for a couple of years and that worry and the frustration that went with it are gone. Relief. On the other hand it has been my rock and home on and off for most of the past 35 years or so and that produces an almost unimaginable sadness. So many adventures, so many hardships overcome, so many nights over the typewriter next to a glass of wine. So many mornings waking to see what the mountain was doing. So many hours at the chopping block. Living a life I dreamed of as a child in a house built with my own two hands. Over all, the sense of self sufficiency and the comforting spirituality of living so close with the natural world. I have been missing it all for the past two years and that took the edge off what could have been a very emotional day today. So now plodding off in a different direction living a different life. If anyone cares to see what I am talking about go here https://alaskaatitude.blogspot.com/. Down the column on the left side there's a search prompt. Type in "East Pole" and read as much as you'd like. As for me I am getting out the bottle of single malt and perusing some of those memories too while I watch the sun set. Amen. Oh, if anyone should encounter Pooh, the bear of little brain, tell him I found the pole and it was wonderful and I wish he could have been there to see it.
expotition
As I prepare for another trip to the Bush for the winter, I thought an explanation of place might be in order. The East Pole is mentioned often on this blog. It is the name I have given to place where I built a cabin in the Alaska Bush and visit as often as is possible. Why an expotition to the East Pole? An explanation for those who need one: When I first went to look over this land I had purchased we started in Talkeetna and headed due east. It was only natural that this interchnge in Winnie the Pooh came up. It is also the reason for what looks like a spelling error in the title. It was, however, it was written and spoken in the Pooh books, and also seemed natural for us to mount an expototion to the East Pole.
The East Pole winter of 2019-20
OK, here is the real quote from "Winnie-the-Pooh" (the real one)
"(Pooh) had had a tiring day. You remember how he discovered the North Pole; well, he was so proud of this he asked Christopher Robin if there were any other Poles such
that a Bear of Little Brain could discover.
“There’s a South Pole,” said Christopher Robin, “and I expect there’s an East Pole and a West Pole, though people don’t like talking about them.”
"Pooh was very excited when he heard this, and suggested they should have an expotition to discover the East Pole but Christopher Robin had thought of something else to do with Kanga, so Pooh went out to discover the East Pole himself."
-- A. A. Milne (Did you know his brother CC is buried in Dillingham?)
As I prepare for another trip to the Bush for the winter, I thought an explanation of place might be in order. The East Pole is mentioned often on this blog. It is the name I have given to place where I built a cabin in the Alaska Bush and visit as often as is possible. Why an expotition to the East Pole? An explanation for those who need one: When I first went to look over this land I had purchased we started in Talkeetna and headed due east. It was only natural that this interchnge in Winnie the Pooh came up. It is also the reason for what looks like a spelling error in the title. It was, however, it was written and spoken in the Pooh books, and also seemed natural for us to mount an expototion to the East Pole.
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| The East Pole winter of 2019-20 |
OK, here is the real quote from "Winnie-the-Pooh" (the real one)
"(Pooh) had had a tiring day. You remember how he discovered the North Pole; well, he was so proud of this he asked Christopher Robin if there were any other Poles such
that a Bear of Little Brain could discover.
“There’s a South Pole,” said Christopher Robin, “and I expect there’s an East Pole and a West Pole, though people don’t like talking about them.”
"Pooh was very excited when he heard this, and suggested they should have an expotition to discover the East Pole but Christopher Robin had thought of something else to do with Kanga, so Pooh went out to discover the East Pole himself."
-- A. A. Milne (Did you know his brother CC is buried in Dillingham?)
The Last First Snow
In past years the snow brought optimistic thoughts of adventure at the East Pole. This year, eh, not so much.
A rare visitor, a pine marten.
This year looking out the window as I think about it, I guess my feeling is sad more than anything. For the past seven years snow meant beginning that obligatory Alaska exercise: getting ready. Lists of supplies to be purchased, equipment to be tested, food to be obtained separated into what could freeze and what shouldn’t. By this time I would already have had the shop look over my snowmachine for the coming season. And then there was the trip to the bookstore with a couple of hundred dollars in my pocket to purchase the winter’s supply of reading material.
But time and circumstance have caught up with me and this is the first year since 2014 I am not going to the cabin for the whole winter and the first year since 1986 I have no plan to go out at all. Last year I expected to go but then life got in the way and changed in a major way. I had already gathered some of what I would have needed and then didn’t go.
This year there isn’t even any planning or preparing, I am not going out for the winter. I might be
First snow 2022
able to make a trip in March. And in a few days I am going to have one of those terrifying birthdays with a “O” in it.So, as I look out the window today at the first snow, I don’t feel energized, I guess what I feel mostly is sadness especially as I look over the winter gear in my storage room gathering dust perhaps never to be employed again: clothing, boots, snowshoes, chain saws, yes, firearms, trail survival pack, the SPOT locater, emergency tool kit for the snowmachine and more and more and more,
Snow is falling and I perceive it this year as a problem, not an opportunity and freedom. I will miss the solitude, the animals and birds, North America’s tallest mountain in the picture window, the life. I am thankful for the blog posts I made over the years so at least I can reminisce and perhaps relive some of those moments,
Laundry day at the East Pole. 3/29/21 (I ran out of quarters for the dryer.)
In past years the snow brought optimistic thoughts of adventure at the East Pole. This year, eh, not so much.
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| A rare visitor, a pine marten. |
But time and circumstance have caught up with me and this is the first year since 2014 I am not going to the cabin for the whole winter and the first year since 1986 I have no plan to go out at all. Last year I expected to go but then life got in the way and changed in a major way. I had already gathered some of what I would have needed and then didn’t go.
This year there isn’t even any planning or preparing, I am not going out for the winter. I might be
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| First snow 2022 |
able to make a trip in March. And in a few days I am going to have one of those terrifying birthdays with a “O” in it.
So, as I look out the window today at the first snow, I don’t feel energized, I guess what I feel mostly is sadness especially as I look over the winter gear in my storage room gathering dust perhaps never to be employed again: clothing, boots, snowshoes, chain saws, yes, firearms, trail survival pack, the SPOT locater, emergency tool kit for the snowmachine and more and more and more,
Snow is falling and I perceive it this year as a problem, not an opportunity and freedom. I will miss the solitude, the animals and birds, North America’s tallest mountain in the picture window, the life. I am thankful for the blog posts I made over the years so at least I can reminisce and perhaps relive some of those moments,
About cheating death
The day before I left the East Pole for the season I hauled a sled full of stuff out to the trailhead. Among the items in it, the chainsaw lay strapped right on top. Taking it out for some servicing. The sun shined fuzzily through a hazy sky that day and the trail ran hard and fast.SATURDAY, APRIL 11, 2020
East Pole Journal April 11, 2020: I split the chopping block today
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| The focus of this picture is on what's not in it. |
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| Here it is. |
Love in the time of Covid-19
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I searched my mind and the cabin for
someting I could use for a mask. This is
the best I could come up with. The face
covering was tucked and zippered into the
earflap of this hat I bought on impulse at
REI. It's stretchy, so snug. What do you
think?
|
East Pole Journal March 30, 2020: Weather leaves a gift
A wind-blown gift.
Could there be anything more beautiful than Venus leading a crescent moon across a clear night sky? Just asking.
That storm of blowing snow on Denali.
put in some good time on the big birch I have been working over for what seems forever at this point. I can see the end of it in the next couple of days and then I have to start on another one. There's another tall birch not quite as big close by, like within 20 feet of where I've working now and close to my trail. I can see dead branches on it and when the wind gets it waving, I can hear it cracking internally. I have to keep my eye on it in case it decides to fall my way. It is about ready to fall on its own with a little help from the wind and might save me the most dangerous part of this process, the actual felling of the tree. If not, I will take it down by the end of the week and once that's cut split and stacked I will have next winter's supply.
Pleasure and pain
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| A wind-blown gift. |
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| That storm of blowing snow on Denali. |
East Pole Journal March28, 2020 This expectant mother is no lady
Maybe the same mystery moose from earlier this winter.
Those less familiar with Alaska may need this introduction before we get to the main story. To begin with, we have deeper snow than usual this year. Undisturbed, the snow measures at least three feet deep or more anywhere off a beaten trail. That makes life particularly difficult for moose when that snow is belly deep and they tend to like the trails we make with snowmachines which over time can become as hard as sidewalks. When encountered they do not want to get off the trail and will put up quite a fight to avoid the deep snow on either side. This can be a dangerous encounter for both moose and human.
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| Maybe the same mystery moose from earlier this winter. |
East Pole Journal March 22, 2020 And the beat goes on
Forest mayhem: Leaning against the stump, top is farthest branches visible.
Some excitement over the past few days. Friday night the snow on the north side of the roof slid off, rattling the house like a small earthquake would. I left way too much snow up there over the winter but then it got warm and I was a little shy of going up on the roof in case it slid under me. From that height on the north side you can't see ground until all the way to Denali it seems. You can almost step off the south side. On the south side there's been some sliding and I have shoveled what I could reach from atop the berm earlier shovelings had left, but still a considerable amount of snow slowly moving down slope. Glad I put up the bear board over the bed window because sure enough a big slab of snow fell against it.
Snow pile after north roof slide.
I have about half a cord under the house now and more than that down and ready to split so it's going along. Of course all of this wood is for next winter and I am running a little short of wood for this year because I had to leave in a hurry last year and didn't get all in that I wanted. This past December I took down a spruce killed by beetles and dead, but even so it had too much moisture still in it to burn well. A couple of years ago my friend Joe May sent me a gauge for testing wood moisture. In December this new spruce tested at 19.3 percent moisture. Today I checked and it measured 16.9. The wood now decidedly burns better even though that's still considered a high moisture content, so I can use it to supplement what's left of last year's birch and stretch out my time here. That will allow me to get enough wood in to keep me warm next winter while I cut wood for the following year. This is how my life turned out. I'm not complaining.
South side, note snow against far window
It's been a lot of cutting and splitting and hauling up the hill and some days tiring. But as the pile grows it already energizes and makes me keep going back. I hauled the first load I've been able to move with the snowmachine today so the hauling may go a lot quicker in the near future. I only have about 10 feet of the lower trunk to cut into sections and I have most of the rest of the big stuff split at least into two pieces. They are18 to 20 inches in diameter and I can't split them even with my 18-pound maul. I use the chain saw and cut them part way lengthwise and then I can usually split them the rest of the way.
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| Forest mayhem: Leaning against the stump, top is farthest branches visible. |
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| Snow pile after north roof slide. |
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| South side, note snow against far window |
East Pole Journal March 16, 2020 The gift that keeps on giving
From the main trail, the new one curves off downhill, past the cut tree with its stump sticking up at far right.
Today the assault on the forest to collect firewood began. I had picked out on old, huge birch, big enough probably to hold sufficient wood for a winter, sharpened the chainsaw and replenished its precious bodily fluids and headed down the trail intent on mayhem.
Oh, and I do have to remember to thank Keith for one more thing he did for me while he and James were me helping over the weekend.
I don't like to repeat myself, but here goes anyway. On my way to gathering the wood that will keep me warm next winter so I can be warm and comfortable while I cut wood for the year after that. Is this a rut?
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| From the main trail, the new one curves off downhill, past the cut tree with its stump sticking up at far right. |
Oh, and I do have to remember to thank Keith for one more thing he did for me while he and James were me helping over the weekend.
East Pole Journal, the Ides of March 2020: I live here now
After Thursday's adventure (See The terrible horrible no-good very bad day that turned out all right)
I woke up Friday feeling much better than I expected or deserved. No muscle aches, no new pains or injuries and in a decent mood. I spent the morning putzing around the cabin, then when the outdoor temperature rose into the mid teens, I dressed out and headed down the hill on another pair of snowshoes, these without the shovel in front. I pulled one of the light sleds to bring up what I could and in the process pack the trail down a little more in hopes of one day actually driving my snowmachine up it. I took a heavy-duty come-along with me intending to hook to a tree and at least pull the machine up the little hill where snow embraced it almost the handlebars. Turned out the rope I brought lacked something in length so rather than waste energy digging the machine out I left the machine for the next day when I could bring down a longer rope.
FRIDAY, MARCH 13, 2020
A terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad day that ended all right
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| The outhouse roof was clear when I left 2 weeks ago. |
Labels: Alaska bush, Alaska trails, East Pole, snowmachines
East Pole Journal February 8, 2020: If a tree falls in the woods …
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| Seahorse tree is no more than firewood now, as soon as somebody moves it. |
The East Pole Journal
Labels: alaska, Alaska bush, Alaska life
East Pole Journal February 5, 2020: Life on a hillside
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| 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. |
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.
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| But then there's the view of Denali. |
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.
Labels: alaska, Alaska winter, East Pole
East Pole Journal February. 2, 2020, Signs of Spring
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| Does this mean six more weeks of winter? |
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.
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| The sun lights up the angry bluebird in the window. |
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| And of course there's a ton of firewood to gather — literally, a ton…at least. |
Labels: alaska, Alaska life, Alaska winter, East Pole, seasons, Spring
East Pole Journal January 29, 2020
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| First new firewood of the year. |
Burning the new wood
Then, yesterday this female hairy woodpecker came by to pick some beetles out of another spruce. I don't want to take that one down because the chickadees roost there and also flee to cover in it when a predator comes around the feeder.
The East Pole Journal
Labels: alaska, Alaska birds, East Pole, firewood
East Pole Journal January 13, 2020
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| This is the primary suspect in the case of the noise in the thicket. |
I don't begrudge the animals a meal, especially the wild ones, but it seems now they're bringing all their friends and relatives to dinner.
Gretchen Small: same here with birds.....lots of chickadees, downy and hairy woodpeckers, a few magpies, and a few ravens and a pair of boreal owls. no redpolls, crossbills, grosbeaks, siskins, or nuthatches at all. but several black backed woodpeckers which i have not seen in years. last summer's birds were of fewer species also
It's everywhere. Check out this thread on the Birds of Alaska facebook page
East Pole Journal Christmas Day 2019
Christmas EvePrime rib, mashed potatoes and thick gravy and a Jello no-bake double chocolate cheesecake. (Hoping my doctor isn't reading this or I'll get a lecture next time I go in for a checkup.) Leftovers today, soooo good.
Some new music in a couple of ways
A couple of items from the East Pole Journal
December 23, 2019
Major problem with a 48-year-old solution
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| 48 years old and still cooking |
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| Different year, different moose. |
UPDATE: I drove the snowmachine down there the next day to look around and for sure it was a moose. By the tracks I could tell it moved from thicket to thicket through several of them and chewed them down. Then the big hole in the snow indicated where it slept the night, stayed so long the snow melted down to the grass underneath. Mystery solved.
East Pole Journal Volume II 2020-21, Episode 1
How I continue to love nature except for one particular moose
I made my first trip to the East Pole this week. I say first because this is a short one. I have usually had problems getting up the hill to the cabin until a good trail is broken out and tamped down in the snow and that means leaving a lot of stuff down in the woods below the hill. Last year I tried something new and came out for only three or four days with a light load. I spent the whole time getting set up and in particular blazing my trails so when I make the second trip with the bulk of my outfit, I will have better luck getting it all to the cabin.
True to form I got the snowmachine stuck about halfway between the main trail and the cabin, that was even after leaving half my load behind. I put on the snowshoes and started trudging up the trail carrying a small knapsack full of vital stuff and my computer briefcase. That was when I discovered exactly what poor shape I am in. After about 20 feet or so I dropped the knapsack and after another 20 feet there went the computer. Still it was trudge 5 or 10 steps and rest, rinse and repeat. I have no idea how long it took but I do know I was whipped by the time I reached the cabin. Always thankful for my foresight, the fire I had left laid in the wood stove took off with one match. That was about all I was capable of for most of the rest of the day from late afternoon. That was Sunday.
Monday not feeling much better I headed down the hill, the only goal in mind to bring the snowmachine tipped right side up and level. A little shoveling that worked. I liberated a couple cans of chili and the next season of Game of Thrones along with that knapsack and computer bag and headed back up hill putting in much the same effort with the same exhaustion as the day before. Come Tuesday I headed down again, my only goal to start the machine and get it unstuck. Again, I took some vitals in the sled and went back up the hill. Overnight I thought about how I would turn it around. With trepidation I headed downhill, but it took only a little shoveling and I started to drive it out of there.
That was when I learned about this detestable moose. You see when moose go to sleep they first dig down to ground level, hoping for edible grass or maybe a warmer bed. Then they flop and over the course of several hours of sleep pretty much melt a hole in the snow also down to grass level. This particular moose had made its bed right in the middle of my trail, a sure snowmachine catcher. I’d say it was probably six feet by six feet and two feet deep. I know it took me at least half an hour to fill it in and stomp it down so I could drive over it. I didn’t anticipate road work when I signed on for this gig.
With that done I was able to drive the machine to a wider level area where I could turn it around without a lot of heavy lifting. That accomplished I went out to the main trail, picked up what I’d left there and brought it all to one place. Then I tossed some more vitals into a light sled and tried the rest of the hill. I got about halfway up, maybe a couple of hundred feet and stuck again. I unhooked the sled and tugged it up the rest of the hill. Tomorrow I will turn the machine around headed out and hooked up for when I go out Friday. Out for probably a week and then back for the rest of the winter.
COOLERS THAT DON’T
Most people including myself usually buy a cooler to keep the beer and other stuff cold during outdoor summer activities. In addition to that I look at how one might prevent perishables from freezing during winter activities. Last year I bought a very expensive, double-walled, super insulated cooler and it worked fairly well. Tonight I discovered just how well it works. I didn’t bring the cooler up today, but I did bring some of its contents: four bottles of Ensure, half a dozen small juice bottles and a gallon thermos full of milk. That cooler has been outdoors since about 7 a.m. Sunday morning until 3 p.m. Wednesday, about three and a half days in temperatures mostly in the low 20s. Nothing was frozen. And I will tell you cold milk after being without it for several days is one of the great joys in life. I don’t regret the expense involved.
IN OTHER NEWS
Social distancing didn’t work. Just about 24 hours after I filled the feeder, the horde of chickadees showed up.
So, all told I hope this is a prelude to another great winter at the East Pole. Watch this space.
East Pole Journal Vol. II, No. 2 Christmas Day 2020
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| Thank you Judy. Now it's all clear. |
Some interesting discoveries around the East Pole
About the Poles
Both Pooh and I believe we have been at or near the East Pole; however, neither of us has seen it. That picture of the South Pole my friend Judy Youngquist sent me might hold a clue. When you think about it if the North pole sticks straight up and the South Pole, straight downward, it would fit that the East and West Poles might be horizontal and we have been searching in the wrong direction. Maybe the poles don’t stick up at all, but are lying on the ground somewhere, or at least on short posts in that horizontal position. We could possibly trip over it and never realize what it was. Of course, if you are looking at a globe instead of a flat map, the poles could be standing up anyway, but would appear horizontal as observed from space. That constitutes a new condition. As there is no up or down in space (Take a little time to ponder that.) and if you were approaching toward the East Pole, it would look like what we call the North Pole. That has about taken us beyond what a bear of little brain can be expected to understand; perhaps past the comprehension of an old man as well. So, as Pooh might say we are close enough to believe it is there, and we can let it go at that.
Plans gone awry: I had a plan today. The snowmachine has been stuck at the bottom of the hill since I came in Monday. I stopped before it dug down, but when I started up I didn’t get more than 20 feet and stuck, unstuck and stuck again at another 20 feet. I haven almost everything I hauled up to the house, but it was hand over hand pulling a sled and just about wore me out. I have also been working one plan or another to g4et it unstuck but nothing has worked out so far. To begin with it is on a side hill. The problem has been I have a good hard trail, but it is underneath about two feet of powder and I can’t see it at times. Twice it has slid off to the downhill side burying the rear end. Yesterday, I snowshoed a new trail off the side where it is stuck: That’s mostly downhill and then almost level turning back to the main trail. So, today I was going to use a come-along and either turn the machine entirely so it is heading back downhill on the main trail or turn it enough to get it headed out the new trail. But befpre that came all the daily chores, then this concern about the East Pole and then the storage problem and after that a solution to my flour shortage in preparing Yorkshire pudding (solved by a couple of friends on facebook) and all of a sudden it’s 1 p.m. Two hours of daylight left on Christmas Day. We are up to almost 5 hours and 3 minutes of available daylight if the sky clears. Today is the first day I’ve seen the mountain since I’ve been here. It all led to this: the hell with working on the snowmachine, taking a day off of hard work. Eat a good meal, take it easy all day, let my aching body heal and attack it in the morning.
Update: After going through plans A and B to C the next day, with great determination I finally freed the snowmachine.
Domesticity. As I was packing all the new winter supplies into the kitchen I discovered I was running out of storage space. I looked to clear some room and discovered I have one full-sized base cabinet full of empty storage containers: Tupperwear on top of several other brands of boxes and bins. I use them at most two at a time and the rest just sit there taking up valuable storage capacity. Big chore ahead for sure. Merry Christmas.
East Pole Journal Vol. 2 Episode 3: There IS a mountain out there
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| Moonset on Denali just before dawn December 29, 2020. |
The common knowledge is Internet posts with a picture get more hits than simple words. Let's see if it's true. That picture has nothing to do with what's below. It only stands out as the only time I have seen Denali since I came out here almost three weeks ago, so I am sharing it. (It's also pretty obvious I need to relearn my camera.
Memories are made of this:
As I’ve grown older, I’ve found there are lots of pundits out there willing to advise me or let me know what’s coming. Each of them thinks he or she is the only one who knows this stuff or is telling me something the writer just discovered. One thread that runs through most of them is the admonishment to get rid of your stuff, your kids don’t want it. With my life in such flux this past year, I took that one to heart. I still managed to fill one of U-Haul’s larger storage units and that doesn’t count what’s in this cabin
So, today in the process of a different chore I came across my collection of nautical charts. Earlier I had tried to sell them, no takers. I tried to give them away, still no takers. Mind you this is easily more than a thousand dollars’ worth of charts, covering most of the west North American coast from Seattle to the outer Aleutians, many of them laminated thanks to the generosity of a skipper from the Gulf of Mexico who didn’t expect to return to Alaska after the first summer of the Exxon Valdez spill cleanup efforts.
I asked a friend who also has a nautical background and his suggestion was use them for wallpaper. I like the walls in this cabin but the ceiling is covered with shiny foil-faced insulation and has been waiting for years while I try to think of a covering for it. Here’s what happened to that idea.
I brought out all the charts and all kinds of glues for the project. I even bought some moveable scaffolding. The first day I found the laminated charts would not stick to the slick foil surface. In the process of wrestling with it I stepped back off the scaffolding and landed with my back against the corner of a heavy coffee table. As I laid there taking inventory of my battered body, I decided this was not going to work. Once I regained my wits I dressed and headed out on the snowmachine to the trail head, managed to drive my truck to a health clinic 12 miles away and learned I was lucky. I had a bruise that was covering the lower right quadrant of my back, but no damage to internal organs.
I stayed with some friends overnight, then came back the next day. The first thing I did was put the charts behind the couch and never look back.
Then today I was cleaning back there and came across them. The first thing I thought about was “your kids don’t want your stuff. The second was a memory of a story I read once about a guy who was preparing for his boating season. He had taken out his charts with the idea of cleaning them, erasing all the course lines he’d plotted over the years, all the position fixes, and many of his calculations. He stopped, though when he realized every one of the scribblings on his charts represented a good time spent on the water and he was getting lost in the memories. In the end he decided to leave them on the charts.
I thought of that as I looked at these charts of mine today. Many of them have the same kind of scribbling, the same memories and the collection stands as a reminder of one of the happiest periods in my ife. So I rolled them up and put them up in the loft with the storage containers I had put up there yesterday, where they will probably stay until they come to haul me off. Unless I discover them again some times and try to live my storms at sea. And then some.
SUNDAY, JANUARY 3, 2021
East Pole Journal V. II Episode 6: Gros, really gros
Life is like that first step outdoors in the morning
In one of the most famous movie lines of all time Forrest Gump’s mother told him, “Life is like a box of chocolates, you never know what you’re going to get.” I am beginning to think that also applies to the first step outdoors in the morning. The day before yesterday, January 1, 2021, to be exact, I saw the first Pine Marten I’ve ever seen over almost 50 years in Alaska. There’s more; to begin with there was no temperature. Zero, nil. I heard a flutter off to my right and turned in time to see a female Pine Grosbeak clinging to the feeder for dear life, wings flapping as she tried to maintain her hold. Soon enough she flew off into a nearby tree.
I quickly blamed myself for her failed effort. I had seen a male the day before and knowing they have a tough time on the narrow perches the feeder affords them, I fully intended to throw a handful of seeds onto the nearby snow so they could feed especially in this cold.
After quickly taking care of my own business, I filled a cup with seeds and dumped it over the edge of the deck into the snow. Not too long after that I saw both of them picking through those seeds. I watched for a few minutes, but the cold was getting the better of me so I went inside and left them to it.
A few minutes later I had to go back out for a couple of sticks of firewood. I chanced to look up and there framed by branches, sat the male in a nearby tree, his feathers all puffed up against the cold. My presence didn’t seem to bother him so I went for the camera and this picture is the result. One of the best I’ve ever made of a Pine Grosbeak. It was like “thanks for the breakfast, I’ll pose for you now.” You just never know what you’re going to get. (And no, I will not use “gonna,” not now, not ever.)
As an afterthought; with this kind of a start, maybe this 2021 is going to be all right.
East Pole Journal V. II, Episode 11: Inventory
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| Cut vertically and ready to split |
an answer came to me. I think, that’s what I do. I think. The most common question I hear about living out here amounts to “what do you do all day?” I usually say “I live” and if I have to I point out that everything takes longer in the Bush even the most mundane of household chores. If pressed I go down a list ending in I write sometimes and that usually satisfies the questioner as I have given him something of an acceptable productive effort in my existence that he can understand. As far as thinking goes, it races from subject to subject: failed loves to future loves, fantasies about the ATT girl, past failures, past successes, past arguments argued all over again; sometimes I even argue with Henry David Thoreau. I have 75 years of life to reflect on, you understand.
So there I was today in Boketto mode not thinking about much when I started taking a firewood inventory. This grew very complicated as you will see. To begin with, this chunk I sat on stood among 19 others like it that had been cut into sections ready for splitting. These from the lower trunk are so thick and heavy I can’t split them even with an 18-pound splitting maul, so nine of them already have a vertical cut in them about halfway down. That allows me to make it split with the first crack at it. But, hold on, this is the middle of the story.
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| First split, easy peasy with the cut |
Firewood makes up the biggest chore of the winter. When I came out I had two cords of birch stacked from last year plus three-fourths of a cord of spruce that I cut for kindling and fire starting. That gave me half a cord a month for the winter. A cord is two rows of split wood cut to wood stove lengths (18-20 inches in my case) and the stacked rows are 8 feet long and 4 feet high.
That’s where I started and once I got settled in the effort to cut firewood began. I point out what I think is the futility of a life spent cutting enough firewood for the next winter so you can be warm while you cut wood for the year after that., and on and on.
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| One chunk split almost fills a sled |
With some advice and some demonstration from these new people I finally got it started, though not without flooding it a couple of times. I decided enough was enough dedicated last Sunday to starting both saws before I did anything else and by 1 p.m. I had them both running.
Mind you, the pressure to get firewood in for next winter had consumed my mind and actions for weeks. If I couldn’t do that it might end the adventure. I even considered bugging out, but there’s this. I have nowhere to go.
Then, with the saws running, Monday, I started in earnest and have made great progress since
.
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| Long way to go, even some under the snow up toward the stump. |
So today while I am splitting big chunks of birch and taking it to the stack, I found another half a stack of last year’s. Then I tried some more of that spruce on a going fire and darned if it didn’t flame up.
If at this point someone had come along and encountered me, he would have seen a totally satisfied man in a boketto trance with a big smile on my face. Then I had this thought: I sympathize with those folks in Texas, they really aren’t prepared for what amounts to a day in the life for an Alaskan. Still I would love to tell one of them that I just stopped working in mid-20s weather because I was sweating too much. The last thought before I stood up and began the trek pulling a sled full of split wood to the house was that solving a problem so seemingly insignificant as starting a chainsaw could change a whole outlook on life.
Oh, yeah. “Boketto.” It’s a Japanese word that loosely means staring off into the distance blankly with nothing on your mind. I do that a lot.
East Pole Journal V. II, No. 12: Now the moose are just messin’ with me
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| This is the trail at the bottom of the hill below the cabin. |
house. Their tracks joined near a clump of large birch about 15 feet or so from the deck and then showed both moose had meandered on up the hill.
So, the next day I saw where a moose came back down the hill passing close to the house on the north side of the trees and heading down the hill.
The next day not until late afternoon I noticed where two moose again had come up the hill but this time one of them did some digging around by the trees and may even have laid down there for a time.
Now, this didn’t happen at night, but right under my nose sometime during the day. I know all that wasn’t there in the morning because I had spent two hours on that side of the roof shoveling snow. After that, lunch and a brief rest summoned me indoors. Around 1 or so I went back out and headed up the hill to split some more of that tree I had down for firewood. The tracks could have been there at that time; I can’t be sure because I don’t recall looking that way. But I did see moose tracks coming up through the brushy top of twigs from the tree, passing the outhouse on the trail I had made for pulling sleds full of firewood and heading again downhill. That one left four huge, hoof punctures in the trail right by the doorway to the outhouse. The tracks had become so confusing I wasn’t sure which trail led where. Then, as pointed out, I noticed the mysterious digging and again a trail heading up the hill.
The next morning, I saw where a moose had come downhill again and passed close enough to almost touch the end of the deck on the south side of the house, then down my main trail punching holes in it as he went.
Then next day, when I went out in the morning, I spied another set of tracks, these traversing the hillside above the cabin from west to east and continuing on to the next cabin.
This all resulted in a maze of moose tracks all over the hill up, down trails, dug a hole, a traverse and maybe even a bed.
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| All that broken snow appears to be a moose bed near the cabin. |
Today another new track went in sometime between when I woke up and 3:30 p.m. This one looks like it goes from east to west traversing the hill below the cabin until it comes out on my snowmachine trail down there. It wasn’t there when I looked out this morning. Also in late afternoon when the low-angled winter sunlight lit up the upper hillside, I spotted another moose bed, this one much larger maybe 200 feet from the cabin.
What it’s looking like is going out for my morning paper on the porch; where have the moose been and where are they going? Is it a game of let’s see how close we can get to him without being spotted? Or, as I suspect, are they just messing with my head?
Strange things can be seen when alone in the deep woods and the mind doesn’t always have the clarity to interpret them without a little perspective and that perspective isn’t always forthcoming easily when reality plays tricks with fantasy and all of a sudden moose are plotting against you. Like, maybe they think this hill is theirs and it’s about time this interloper moves along.
East Pole Journal V. II, Ep. 13: Thirsty birds, daylight savings, equinox
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| Room for a few more. I've seen three on that icicle. |
I have a new reason to gripe about daylight savings time also. To begin with the old gripe involves the political change of time zone in Alaska to bring us within only one hour of the West Coast. It used to be two. Then you pile another hour on for daylight savings and now our solar noon is around 2 p.m. two hours late. Of course you can sleep in until 10 and wake up knowing it’s really 8. That never had much of an effect on me except the irritation. But this year something changed. I have read about being in tune with nature and how seasons and climate affect wildlife behavior. Last Sunday I noticed a difference. For one, I slept later than usual. When I did get up it was darker than I had been used to. A gray sky dimmed everything anyway, but this was different. Things I could easily see at this time the previous day, I needed a flashlight to see Sunday morning. All day I felt a little bit off, like lethargic. The temperature’s been down near zero mornings for the past couple of weeks. As a result I have found things to do indoors until it warmed up around noon and I felt better about going outdoors and working on the wood pile. Not so, Sunday. I kept finding lame excuses for not going out to work,
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| What are you looking at? |
little chores I had been neglecting, small indoor projects or just flopping on the bed with my eyes closed. Finally around 4, I went out to get wood and water, and forced myself to split at least one sled load of wood for next year. That lasted a whole hour until dinner time and that was the whole effort for the day. It only dawned on me a couple of days later that I had been so in tune with the sunlight that the hour change had disrupted my rhythm and threw me off for a day. Monday was a disrupted day anyway with a 150-mile journey to Wasilla and by Tuesday I had adjusted. I still don’t like the loss of light in the morning though.
As I’ve said in other posts, there’s a story about a Native American chief who said about daylight savings: “Only the white man would cut off the end of a blanket, sew it onto the other end and think he had a longer blanket.”
And then there’s the equinox coming up this weekend. It crossed my mind for no particular reason that is my 155th equinox, 115th in Alaska.
MONDAY, APRIL 5, 2021
Emergency mode! East Pole Journal V. II, Episode 15
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| Goal? Easy peasy |
One of them involved bringing some wood up for the evening and overnight fire. As I looked at the dwindled emergency pile I finally had to admit there wasn’t enough to last as long as I plan to stay. More panic. I took a few up that I thought would last overnight which didn’t leave much for the next couple of weeks if I have that long. As I went through the evening my mind explored as many of the possibilities as I could imagine, ranging from just giving up and bugging out to finding a source of new wood for the duration. What seemed the best of which was to find another beetle-killed spruce and cut it up, but worried about how long it would that take and how it would delay finishing up next year’s piles.
On waking the next day, I looked out the window at the tree I had decided not to cut earlier when I made the first stack to get me through this winter. I decided it was doable and went about preparing for the cutting included slogging a trail through deep snow to it. I had what I thought was a good way to cut and in what direction I wanted it to fall. I also set a goal. I would have a split pile of firewood on the deck before the sunlight hit it.
In felling the tree I managed to drop it across both my trails coming up the hill to the cabin. Don’t laugh. I planned it that way. I went down it and cut and cleared both trails first. What this left me was three access points with solid trails to pull the sled filled with wood up to the splitting yard. And my trails were fine and useable. Enough said. Split firewood on the deck; I made my goal with more than an hour to spare. It wasn’t enough admittedly but it was enough to make the goal with plenty more available just one long sled pull away and an afternoon that I can now use to clear all that snow off the remaining birch still on the ground and ready to split. Why has that taken so long? Well I am now at the lower part of the trunk. About the best comparison I can think of is they are about the diameter of the base drum in a rocker’s kit and 18 to 20 inches long, each weighing more than I can lift. I can barely move the halves when I get that first split. If this were easy everybody would be doing it.
All told, despite the original panic a satisfying couple of days and still some time. Forecast is sunny days and cold nights for a while with more snow in the distant future. I wonder if I can make it until May.
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| The total mayhem. With all that slash it should make a pretty good bonfire. |
LATER: Looking downhill I think I’ll have a bonfire with that slash sometime this weekend.
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