Summer Memory in Autumn

Summer Memory In Autumn

All summer in a lake world of sun
Paddling my craft in the water
Above the sandstone and basalt floor
Striated, wind-etched, painted cliffs above.

All summer we wandered the wild waters
What we pictured in our minds, seen
In photo images and memories
Of refreshing food for the soul.

Gin-clear veridian-tinged world
Below our peaked bows sloshing
Below the rust and cobalt cliff faces
Robin-egg, tufted wool sky above all.

Northwind biting the end of the leaves
Fluttering and twisting down in icy waves
As heavy oak and maple slab off the cord
Warming now and when water is memory.
10 - 27 - 06

 

BOOK REVIEW: The Golden Spruce, by John Vaillant

THE GOLDEN SPRUCE: a true story of myth, madness and greed
Canadian author John Vaillant’s first "nature noir" work is set in British Columbia’s Queen Charlotte Islands. At it’s base it is the story of the dissolution of the Pacific Northwest’s temperate rain forest that is now being completed. Vaillant asserts that 90% of the American and 60% of the Canadian Pacific Northwest old growth forest is gone as of 2005. This Canadian author elucidates, in the course of his well researched work, what all of humankind loses as a result of the passing of this resource.

The Golden Spruce is much more than just a scientific and statistical treatise on the temperate rain forest; it delves into the lives of the Haida Indians and their spiritual attachment to the mutant Golden Spruce. This 300 year old chlorotic Sitka spruce tree, on the Queen Charlotte’s Nelson Island, was the only individually living organism that was told of in Haida stories. The story of K’iid K’iyaas—the golden spruce— was one of many Haida morality stories that was connected to an object on the land; but it was an individual living thing, not a rock or type of animal that legendarily got its characteristics through ancestral actions. Says Vaillant:

The golden spruce, in fact, was uniquely suited to bridge the gaps of time and culture. Trees are the only readily visible living things with such tremendous temporal reach, and no other tree was so strangely distinctive, so undeniably Other, that it could be recognized instantly by anyone, no matter what their culture, or at what point in history they came upon it. Left in peace, the golden spruce could have lived until the twenty-sixth century. [p. 157, The Golden Spruce ]

Most of the people who inhabit the nonfiction pages of the book are loggers, foresters and people involved in the forest product industry. Grant Hadwin, the chief character that The Golden Spruce centers around, is a logger and survivalist woodsman who, through many years of work in the logging industry, came to believe that the modus operandi of logging in the Pacific Northwest couldn’t be reconciled with the damage done to the environment.

In a carefully planned out scheme, debatedly psychotic Hadwin floats himself with chainsaw down the Yakoun River in winter weather and cuts the golden spruce so that it will fall with the first big wind. A letter sent to the media by Hadwin asserts that his reason for cutting the golden spruce was to get revenge on the giant logging company MacMillan Bloedel for their desecration of the old growth forest and waters that they have perpetrated in Canada. The golden spruce, that loggers had left due to its uniqueness was termed by Hadwin as the company’s "pet tree’. Author Vaillant sees the golden spruce and its cutting as much more: "Hadwin had cut down what may have been the only tree on the continent capable of uniting natives, loggers and environmentalists, not to mention scientists foresters and ordinary citizens in sorrow and outrage."
Hadwin’s response to the sorrow and outrage from others, as stated to a reporter: "When society places so much value on one mutant tree and ignores what happens to the rest of the forest, it’s not the person who points that out who should be labeled."

Hadwin disappears en route from the mainland across treacherous Hecate Strait by kayak for his trial on a charge of felony criminal mischief and illegal cutting of timber on crown land. His kayak and gear was found wrecked on a small island 75 miles from his departure point. Many local people still believe he is alive as this wasn’t the first time that he had gone missing.

Author Vaillant, through interviews of Hadwin’s co-workers and those close to him, develops plausible reasons for Hadwin’s actions and the unknown elements in Hadwin’s disappearance.
Vaillant’s interviews of many woods workers uncovers the mixed feelings that many of them have about the part they play in the destruction of the temperate rain forest. Says Vaillant, ‘The individual’s love of the woods exists in tandem with a collective industrial "rape and run" mentality that over time has left scoured valleys and fouled streams littered with machinery, fuel drums, old tires, and thousands of yards of rusted cable.’

If Grant Hadwin is still alive he must be disappointed that his attempts to draw attention to big logging’s destruction of old growth forest appear to have come to naught. Canada’s old growth forest continues to be clear cut . Hadwin’s "lesson" to the public appears to have been lost in the face of numerous eulogies and attempts to graft and clone another golden spruce.

Author John Vaillant rightfully leaves the reader without any hope to change our anthropocentric attitude toward humankind’s place on our planet. The temperate rain forest ecosystem is just one more victim in man’s "development of our resources."

With the Conovers at North House Folk School

Garrett Conover paddling the new Penobscot birch bark canoe which Eric Simula, birch bark canoe builder said was the best crafted birch bark canoe he'd ever seen. The Conovers paid the Maine builder $10,000 to make it for them.

Alexandra demonstrating use of a pole . Later in the demonstration, she and Garrett double poled around in the harbor. With both of them poling in unison the canoe skimmed at high speed through the still water.

Garrett carrying a wanagan with tumpline. Later he added a large pack on top of the wanagan. He said he would generally carry 80 or 90 pounds per carry. The trick is to keep your spine aligned very straight on both the getting the load on your back (by using your knees to rotate the load up while your spine is kept rigidly straight) as well as throughout the portage.

The 2 blades of my northwoods paddles are sandwiched on my canoe spray deck with a Conover-made Northwoods paddle grip on top.

I got my cherry wood Northwoods paddle done up quite nicely and coated with multiple coats of tung oil. The Northwoods grip on it, with a long knob at the top feels natural in my hand. I finished it just in time to take it over to the North House Folk School Wooden Boat Show at Grand Marais, MN. Garrett and Alexandra Conover were the guest speakers and I wanted to take a workshop from them on the Northwoods stroke, which they have developed as a major part of their summer guiding repertoire. They are expert practitioners of traditional modes of travel in all seasons in the northwoods boreal forest. With wood and canvas canoes, wooden poles and paddles in the summer, wooden toboggan, snowshoes and cotton tents with wood stoves in the winter, they guide and teach about traditional modes of recreating on the land.
I made my northwoods paddle shorter than the more common 60+ inch paddle since I planned to use it in my solo canoe and not be using it from a standing position. After using their paddles as well as the ash one that I bought from Bourquin Boats, I like having the pronounced knob on the handle, though I need to thin down the mid section of the blade to get better flex. The workshops were great times for learning and spending time with the 2 guides of traditional northwoods skills. Alexandra paid me a compliment when she saw my new paddle by saying, "I wish that I could say that my first paddles looked as good as yours".
The weather mostly cooperated while in Minnesota except when I was on my way up the Gunflint Trail to Northern Lights Lake. The skies let loose with a deluge. Since the date was the 17th, and my birthday was June 19th I decided to move on. I had seen all that I cared to at the Wooden Boat show, had fine tuned my Northwoods stroke with the Conovers and camping was looking flooded and buggy. I decided to head over to Ely to stay the night at Wintergreen Lodge and visit with Paul and Susan Schurke. I arrived there at 10 PM, met a young graduate student staying at the lodge who was from Alaska. She was using the Wintergreen Inuit dogs in her Masters thesis, testing the canines after feeding them various wild meats; with a goal of being able to ascertain in wolf populations precisely what their eating habits are - if they are preying upon domestic livestock a simple stool test will determine if the wolf in question is the guilty one.
I talked to Paul about guiding some dog team trips this next winter. I'm going to have to train this 54 year-old body so that I'm in good enough shape for the trail! 

Mnii Book Review: So Cold A Sky by Karl Bohnak

Among a number of interesting books that I’ve been reading, is So Cold A Sky: Upper Michigan Weather Stories by Marquette, Michigan meteorologist Karl Bohnak. This volume’s blend of weather and history since the arrival of the Europeans and recorded history has been a wonderful read for me. Like Bohnak, who was raised in southern Wisconsin, I have always been fascinated by weather, in particular severe weather in the north.

Karl surveyed a lot of missionary and settler journals and statistics from early upper Midwest military forts to write the over 300 page book. Included in the book is a detailed bibliography, glossary and index. There are numerous sidebars that delve further into the "rest of the story" concerning the people and natural phenomena that the book portrays so well. The reader is given an illuminating glimpse into the lives of most of the early explorers, such as Father Marquette, Alexander Henry, Henry Schoolcraft, and Peter White.
Much of the book features Lake Superior and the surrounding south shore land mass and the notable storms and weather patterns that have impacted humanity up to our 21st century. It is interesting to note the the weather over the last 50 years that I have been around and to try to recall from memory what I was doing and where I was during the time of these notable weather events.

With the wealth of interesting historical pictures and historical events as noted from original sources, So Cold A Sky makes for an unparalled reading treat for any Upper Peninsula buff.

Wood Process, Spring 2006

Muir heading out to get another load of firewood.



Much of the energy expended over the latter portion of May, 2006 was involved in getting firewood at the MTU trails, which had been vastly widened a couple of years ago with a lot of seasoned wood still at various places on the trails. We mostly cut on the gas line easement and right in the midst of getting in loads of wood, Muir met Jeff Parker, head of trail maintenance at MTU. He invited us to help him and Jim Meese to remove a couple of giant maples. After doing that we were pretty well set with wood for this next winter as well as deep into the following one. I am still feeling the bone and tendon bruising effect of moving rounds too big to get moved without splitting into quarters first and having to roll up a plank into the truck with both Muir and I struggling. As of this date, I still have bucking to do and quite a volume to be split much smaller to fit in a stove.



Stacking the processed wood, much of it already seasoned and ready for next winter.


Bucking up a length of red oak. Then it will be split into size for the wood stove.
All ready to go into the stove. 

Otter River Paddle May 6, 2006

At the put-in, we were trying to get up the courage to slide Dean down this clay mud bluff in his kayak to the river. Dean is wheelchair bound due to an injury he suffered when he fell out of a tree years ago.

Dean Juntunnen, Al Koivunnen, my son Muir, Kris Brown and myself paddled on the Otter River from Aspen Rd to past the bridge on M26. It seemed to be a long 13 miles, but some nice water and some fun little rapids with sharp turns and a number of log jams that Dean’s chainsaw with Muir operating made quick passage for our boats.







On the first log jam Muir wasn’t quite quick enough in moving off the jam when the tree he was cutting on came loose and gave him a couple of wet feet.
Some time later Muir's sunglasses slipped off his head and into the rushing river. I had told him previous to the loss that he didn’t need them, as it was a gray and rainy day. He didn't want to bother putting them away!
About 2/3 of the way we were going through some fast water at a sharp turn and Muir and Kris, in Muir’s 16 ft Old Town canoe hit a large snag on the outside of the turn and Kris lost his balance and capsized the canoe. Muir grabbed the chainsaw and then the canoe and they pulled it out to the bank where they could empty it and re-secure their gear.

The put-in was at the end of a dirt road and it had a high clay bank that the rain had turned into sticky goo. Getting Dean down the bank after roping down the canoes was complicated psychologically by the presence of a cross and debris of a car that had brought someone to their death after driving over the edge and down to the river. But we made it!

The take-out spot was also somewhat difficult as the State had "improved" the bridge by taking out the little access parking area and put crushed limestone rocks along the banks and steel guard rails that stopped access at both ends of the bridge. Dean knew a fellow just down the river who was willing to let us pull out at his property and also lend his 4-wheeler to pull Deans’s kayak, with him in it, from the river to the car and trailer.
We stopped for lunch at the MTU Forestry Club "Lodge" that was an old fish hatchery; an old brown-painted log building in run-down condition. All of the rivers and branches I had done with Dean this spring were running red with clay, and we would often pass large clay bluffs that were eroding into the river. The otter ran clear, though there were some clay banks. We arrived back at Houghton, just in time for Lynn’s dinner. Muir hovered over the woodstove for ½ an hour to warm himself thoroughly.It was early to bed after a full day on the Otter River.


Heading back to the car from the river. I portaged my canoe - this was too easy with the 4-wheeler pulling.

One of the Last Elders

Rhoda Ahgook (L) at the community center city offices in Anaktuvuk Pass, July, 2005
Bob Ahgook, seeking me out at the AKP Community Center

One of the Last of the Elders
Grant Spearman, longest-term resident archaeologist-anthropologist of the Nunamiut Eskimo wrote, "bob ahgook left us on the 14th, his services were on the 22nd. sorry to see him go. Hard to imagine he is really gone."
Bob was a Nunamiut who was always a stalwart upstanding guy; a level and sober influence in Anaktuvuk Pass, who knew both the old ways and the new. A leader and a worker for what was good and right for everyone.
When I became a victim of North Slope Borough politics, when the principal offered me free housing in the Borough "bunkhouse" (which was not school district property to offer), and I was evicted right during the start of the school year, Bob got together the partially completed, decrepit shelter at the air strip, hauled it over to the school district work site and finished the narrow little building with a floor, insulation and plywood walls so that I’d have a place to stay. The village council, that Bob was chief of, offered me 2 lots so I'd have space for my dog team and a place to put the hut on. The principal got greedy as he was prone to be (he was prosecuted 2 years later for embezzlement) and said that the building had to stay on school district property. The village council let the offer of 2 lots stand, but I didn't have the time to put up a "soddy"as well as the ground was frozen by that time. I ended up leaving after that winter and so never had the means to fly in materials to put in a dwelling. The lots were on the other side of the Contact Creek, that had no houses when I was living in AKP but is now a bustling part of the village. I visited Bob and Rhoda, his wife there last summer. As a resident of Anaktuvuk Pass, I was a frequent visitor to Bob and Rhoda’s house in the middle of the older village for tea, caribou "fry" and Eskimo donuts. Bob would always look kindly at me and ask when I came in, "How’s Donwatson doing today?" We would talk about hunting, the land and commonplace topics, whatever I wanted to talk about, and often not talk, but just be there and observe the goings-on of the Ahgook household. Bob and Rhoda’s children were always intellectually sharp and respectful. Rhoda was cut of the traditional Nunamiut cloth; happy unceasingly with her family and life.
Bob worked closely with the old wolf biologist, Bob Stephenson and was who some wolf chronicler was referring to who said that the Nunamiut "have the greatest practical knowledge of the Arctic wolf of any people in the world". Bob wasn’t one to talk very much about the old nomadic way of life that these one and only mountain Eskimos used to live, at least to me. One pet peeve that he did voice to me was that the Nunamiut didn’t follow the caribou, as some journalists and scientists have said. "No, we never followed the caribou! We waited for them to come to us", he would say in mock disgust.
Bob always enjoyed having mechanical stuff. His snowmachines were always in good repair, he was one of the first, if not the first to have a car(jeep) in the village. When I was visiting the village the summer of 2005, Bob had a compact car as well as a full size pickup truck. His Argo ATV sat in his front yard. Bob’s quiet wisdom was always present, whether hunting or in the village. Bob worked a regular day job - maintenance for the borough. His mechanical abilities were sure and he used power tools safely.
Bob came down to the plane that I was supposed to arrive in to see me after all of 27 years of separation. Unfortunately I arrived in an earlier flight. I was picked up by Harry Hugo at the plane. He was the baggage handler and took me around to the clinic and community center. Bob and Rhoda came over to the community center offices to visit and wish me welcome.
Bob was having difficulty health-wise in his last years. He had heart bypass surgery; after that he complained of a lack of energy and his life slowing down, almost intolerably so for him. As he was telling me this, Rhoda was bustling around Bob, doing the little chores that a good mate does for the other, as an assurance to the other that all isn’t yet lost, that they still have each other and the big extended family of their village. Rhoda said this only through her body language and activity of domestic serving. At their home, in the morning after visiting with their son Jimmy, with Sandy Hamilton there for coffee (another great reunion for me), Bob was telling us this and he seemed more distant. Not feeling as good as he would like, perhaps knowing that there was cancer gathering in his body, that would cause him to have to be medivaced to Fairbanks a couple of months after my visit. As he sat in his living room, the TV on as a diversion, I think we both knew that this was the last time we would see each other again, that it was a wonder that I was back again. Few of the "tanniks" ever did return, at least not if they didn’t return due to a job. Not much, really, to say. Good knowing you many years ago...
Jimmy and I left with a goodbye, walked out through the entryway and over to Sue Hugo’s house, in a hurry before my plane came in, sad that I didn’t have more time to spend with the people who I had done so much growing up with as a young man.

Wolf by the Road & Firesteel River Paddle

The timber wolf that was feeding off of the road-killed deer. Though he wasn't welcoming of the attention we were giving him, he was not going to pass up the venison that was a free meal because of two guys in a little car.

Dean Juntunnen of Mass City
Al Koivonen, of South Range, paddling upstream just for the fun of it in his Mad River Courier canoe. That's Dean's titanium and carbon fiber wheelchair in the stern of Al's canoe.


04-15-06 Wolf by M-26 & Firesteel River Paddle

On Friday I went out to Chassel Bay for the first paddle of the 2006 season. The day was in the 50's with sun and some gusting wind. I was using my new paddles - the "Maine Guide" style ash paddle and the Nashwaak Cruiser paddle out of Canada. I liked the grab of the Maine Guide and practiced with it. Saw 2 immature eagles near the Pike River, paddled up the river and on my return saw a nesting goose right on the bank with 4 eggs thus far in the downy nest. Also saw my first male redwing blackbird warbling in a willow above the stream.
I went out with Dean Juntunnen and Al Koivonen on a long and roundabout trip to the Firesteel River which was running with class 2 and a couple of #3 rapids along much of the 13 miles we went on.
We were a couple of miles before the turnoff to Mass City , near the Firesteel River when I noticed a timber wolf at the side of the road eating a road killed deer. I stopped the car, turned around and pulled off to take some pictures of it. It was scared of us but couldn’t pull itself away from the meat for long so we did get some decent pictures.
When we arrived at dean’s place off of Aspen Rd., about a mile south of Mass City, there was quite a bit of work to do preparing for the boat carrying on his car, as Dean is paralyzed from the waist down and has special attachments on his rack for getting his kayaks on his roof rack, etc.
We then had to drive to Ontonogan and take lakeshore Dr. To other roads and finally to where the Firesteel River outlets into Lake Superior to drop one vehicle with trailer and then drive to another place to put in for the paddle down river. I was a bit hesitant in the first couple of rapids, not knowing how the Wildfire would do. It was very forgiving and handled well. The royalex skin slid off ledges well and in the few holes that I went in the cover made it a dry boat. We saw a number of eagles and I saw quite a few kingfishers chattering as they fished. Big bunches of ducks and geese were in the air and on the river. There were a quite a few deer stands and logging taking place back from the river with occasional camps back away from the river. The fairly continuous rapids made it very nice to run and the only drawback to that was that I had to watch the river and not the shore. The sun was bright on the water so that the glare made it hard to see rocks at riffles, but no harm done. I tended to favor the 57 inch beaver tail paddle though a wider blade would have been better for control in the fast water. I used the Maine Guide paddle quite a bit with its wide blade tough it is a bit heavy and long. Al saw the first turtle of the season though I missed that.
I didn’t get home until 7 PM after leaving here at 7 AM with all the time involved in driving. Nice water though and a fine 60 degree day.

Home Is the Eldest Son

Oldest son Muir (23 yrs old) relaxing at home. Not quite used to our brand of spring compared to Florida.
Muir's trailer and truck camper that brought up one load to Michigan. His Toyota 4X4 is the second load in a few weeks.


04-14-06 Bloomin’ Spring
The goldfinches are getting their nesting plumage and Muir, our first-born has come and gone on his freighting back to home base. For some days prior to his arrival Lynn and I had been getting the room at the top of the stairs ready for him and when his imminent arrival was a day earlier than usual, I finished painting and Lynn did an all-nighter getting his room ready. Muir arrived here Sunday, April 2 and was able to bring up his new Ford truck with our camper loaded with stuff, and towing his utility trailer filled with his motorcycle, tools, and plastic take-down storage shed.
While we had snow (and on Sunday, late afternoon), he and his mother went out to the Pilgrim River on a snowshoe jaunt. He was well-pleased with his new Red Feather "Powder" snowshoes, though it was hardly powder snow but consolidated crust and slush that we traipsed around on the week + that he was here. He had gotten the snowshoes on a half priced sale through Sierra Trading Post deal and said that he had always wanted red Feather snowshoes since we had gone out to Michael Schwei and Raven’s Headwaters Environmental Center log cabin out by Misery Bay. This was when Muir was in 9th grade; we went there to make a pair of snowshoes. Mike and Raven had commented that when they thought of the modern snowshoes that Redfeathers were their choice, though they only wished they had the money to get a couple of pair of the aluminum shoes. At least that's Muir's remembrance; I just remember raven being quite traditional in her preferences for snowshoes.
Muir had maps of geocaches that he had downloaded and was intending to find them with brother Matt, but time limitations for both of them, and Matt’s reluctance to thrash through the woods to find the geocaches left only one searched for by the time Muir left.
I went out with Muir to Churning Rapids with our snowshoes to find the one that was deep in the woods. We went bushwhacking going south out from Kinzel’s place (Christenson Rd.), following our GPS receivers rather than the 2-track that I’m sure the person putting in the geocache had used. Rough going and Muir was going too fast, falling on his snowshoes and on a rushing quest. The day was sunny and warm and we worked our way along a ridge and over creeks until we came out at the 2-track and then went in the woods again. Eventually we arrived at the original place where the geocache had been placed, which was the lookout tower and found a second set of coordinates for the changed position of the cache. We went again through the woods to the second place, but down by the rushing creek the snow was deep and maybe that stopped us from finding the cache. But it was a great day to be out and his snowshoes got a workout, not to mention us. He was surprised that he would get as much use out of the new purchase as he did, visiting so late. We put about 5 miles on our snowshoes that day.
Last Friday, the 7th we headed up to Copper Harbor to do some crust skiing. Muir was using skis and boots that I had purchased years ago from a MTU graduate who was selling the virtually unused gear prior to going to a city without snow. We stopped in to see Sam Raymond, who had out a pair of back country telemark boots and skis that Muir could borrow, but Muir thanked him and said that the gear he had was adequate. We first went across from the Keweenaw Mtn Lodge driveway at a new Michigan Nature Association area and followed an old logging road through areas beginning to melt and forming pot holes and over streams flowing snowmelt. In most cases we could cross at areas that were snow covered over logs or other snow bridges that were nearly ready to collapse. We ended up having lunch at a cedar blowdown off the trail and then headed back the way we had come and then to the end of US 41 and out to Horse Shoe Harbor. The road-trail to the turnoff was ½ snow covered and the other ½ sand. Muir went up in the woods just off the road so that he didn’t have to take off his skis and walk. The day was a bit windy and the sun was beaming down. After going out to the sanctuary (Nature Conservancy, Mary MacDonald Preserve) we went back up the trail to where I had camped a couple weeks before. No trace of my old camp, it melted away with the snow. We stopped long enough to eat Cliff Bars that Muir had in his fanny pack. We had been having to ski around a couple of 4-wheeler ruts that had created deep ruts from a single 4-wheeler on the main trail and on the way back I had commented to Muir that it seemed that the same guy had come after us because there were new tracks over the old. As we were almost back a rummy-looking guy drove by us on his way back to Copper Harbor.
We saw bear tracks, one set each on the MNA trail near a roiling stream and a second set crossing the trail ½ mile or so before the Horse Shoe Harbor trail.
I thought that my digital camera was broken (again!) When I tried to take a picture of Muir and it didn’t turn on. I tried a second set of batteries and it still wouldn’t turn on. What I didn’t realize was that both sets of NIMH batteries were discharged, so got no pics of our ski trip.
Muir left Tuesday evening and after that we were mostly getting ready for him to go - getting the storage shed up, packing, getting Dixie, Muir’s bulldog, accommodations ready for her to stay with us ( Muir took the bus back to Florida), and making plans for his return in early May.
The snow banks remain, but spring is definitely here now. Migratory birds are back and a little rain and lots of sun are sending down light for the crocuses and bulb flowers to bloom. Maple syrup is about through and we already sampled the Santiford’s syrup from this year.
I put on much longer roof rack bars on my Geo Tracker for accommodation of 2 canoes and so am ready today for one Wildfire solo for the first paddle of the year 2006. I still have to final sand and finish varnish and oil the basswood paddle that I carved this year and another cherry paddle is in the works for this spring. Also have to get rolling on my second cover for the composite Wildfire now that I inherited Lynn’s old 2 speed sewing machine and put money into getting it adjusted for sewing heavy fabric. All of this doesn’t account for my training for guiding kayak trips this Summer as well as having to take renewal course work for first aid training, which sounds like it will be a hassle to keep my WFR without going through the 2 week course all over again. Such is my life as spring progresses.

Early, Early Spring Toboggan Trip

I got back yesterday from a 4 day traverse of a portion of the tip of the Keweenaw, using the old winter canoe of the north, my toboggan. Brought along Gabe, Lynn's erstwhile hound for company (no one but the canine sort would go along with me!). Even Gabe was reluctant to go but he ended up sleeping warm in the heated tent. I ended up changing campsites rather than base camping and saw some great winter country in total solitude. The big lake was rimed with ice and the winds were creating big surf and turmoil. The snow was settled to about 3 foot deep with enough of a crust to make it great snowshoeing and easy to create a 1 trip "float" for the trailing toboggan. Thought I might detect the first stirrings of spring, but other than increased light it was not to be. Ended up walking out yesterday in the midst of a snowstorm.
When I got home there was a terrific racket of crows that were mobbing a snowy owl in the now peaceful falling snow. The owl flew off followed by 1/2 of the mob. The other 1/2 stayed behind and were just as noisy. As I watched, two from the big bunch plummeted out of a tall tree to the snow below, the others crowing loudly. With binoculars from 35 feet, I played naturalist voyeur as the two nibbled at each other playfully and performed coitus over and over; in the 4 minutes that I watched they were encouraged by others of their tribe that seemed as excited as the two performing the rites of spring. I guess I did get to see a bit of spring at the end of my trip, but back home!


Is it a smudge on the lense or a long tailed abominable snowman? No, it is a very large fisher that Gabe treed that then travelled from tree to tree at dusk on the coast fairly close to the Nature Conservancy "Club Superior". It was nip and tuck with light conditions and fast-moving fisher (as well as he went to ground once and I thought that he was going to tear into the dog) but I ended up getting one shot where at least he's silhouetted, moving from a deciduous tree to large white pine. The fisher moved through the trees in long soaring, death-defying dives that put any squirrel's movements to shame. On the ground he moved across the snow like a shadow; the heavy dog fell behind in the deep snow at every bound he took.




My canvas winter camping tent from Empire Canvas with titanium woodstove from 4 Dog Stove Co.

 

Yukon River and Eagle Bluff

Eagle Alaska

A balmy sunset at the boat landing in Eagle City.

Eagle Bluff from the porch of Charlie and Marlys House's Falcon Inn. To the left of the Bluff is where American Creek flows into the Yukon River.
A view of Eagle Bluff from my log house on the terrace above the boat landing. The Bluff dominates the town in all seasons, providing warmth from it's sun warmed thermal mass in the summer and character and solid presence in all seasons.

Anaktuvuk Pass, Alaska

My friend Riley Morry on the way back to AKP after an Argo ride.

Riley and I traveled by plane to Fairbanks in December of 1976. After a night out on the town I met Riley at the airport and we went to Michigan for a big tour with my mother's car to the U P. Then Riley went on to New Mexico to spend time with his wife Betty and daughters . Betty was from San Juan Pueblo and would sometimes spend the holidays back at her home in New Mexico.

A Walk North of Anaktuvuk Pass, Alaska

Eleanor Lake, to the North of Anaktuvuk Pass is a short walk. The lake, when I lived in AKP, was a good place to get ice to melt in the winter when the village water well was frozen up. I remember one time, during a cold white-out, I was bringing two large ice-filled buckets on my dog sled back to my cabin. As I mushed through some hills over the hard pack, I realized that I had lost my depth perception when my sled was suddenly following the 5-dog team over the edge of a steep hill that looked in the whiteout as though it was more gently rolling tundra. The line of dogs, sled and myself were all rolled over and over as ice and axe were thrown from the open sled and my hands were wrenched from the sled handlebar. I watched the dog team and sled roll over to the bottom of the hill, with nary a tangle of gangline and tugs the dogs and sled went upright in unison and keep running toward the Contact Creek bridge . I picked up the axe and started to follow the sled tracks back to the village through the ice fog of tiny ice crystals. At the bridge some of the kids had stopped the team, the dogs tails lazily wagging as I walked up. I turned the dogs back to Eleanor Lake, buckets still to be filled - off for a second round of chopping ice for water to drink.
The community permafrost meat storage cellars were also here above Eleanor Lakehere (now flooded and not used with the electrification of the village and freezer use). I was awarded a section of the ice cellars by Village Chief Bob Ahgook after I took 2 caribou during my first year in AKP.
The cemetary is on a knoll above the lake. I spent some solitary time there last summer at the graves of friends there who passed on since the 1970's when I lived in AKP as the first high school teacher.

Spring 2005 on the Sturgeon River a mile before Chassell Bay.