Hello winter!

Well the weather has officially changed up here in the last frontier, and we are well on our way to winter...already. The past week has seen mornings in the upper 20's and today when I got in my car to head to work it was a balmy 22. The cold isn't so bad, but we are getting our first windstorm this evening and it's been a bit blustery. Luckily, the wind is blowing out of the east and not the usual winter NE, which makes for quite a chilly day.

One thing is for certain, experiencing actual seasons really makes you appreciate the beauty of the natural world. Everything has died off or gone dormant for the season and it's a wonderful thing to know that come april life will spring forth out of the ground once again. In Florida, I never really took notice of seasonal changes until the last few years I was there, until I really got into surfing or began exploring the natural areas around oviedo and seminole county. Experiencing these changes forces you to face the world and be more in tune with whats going on in the world...well at least the natural world. No longer can I leave things outside, or expect to have the sun heat the house first thing in the morning, or even count on the fresh produce we have been recieving for the past 4 months. The time for layers is upon us, and I don't mind, because with this change comes snow, and powder and the revelation of experiencing the beautiful alpenglow on the peaks of the talkeetnas and the chugach. I can't wait for Erin and I to be able to head up to hatcher pass or even just around the corner and experience the pinkish hues on the mountains while traversing the trails on cross country skis. I love it here. We love it here and every day is a new suprise.

A little lunch break penning

I began the day in the Field by driving up to Buffalo Mine Road. The road follows the canyon, winding and bending with frost heaves, rolling dips, non-existent shoulders and eventually steep drops to Moose Creek on the Northeast side of the road. As you head deeper into the canyon, the walls begin to grow and the road eventually reaches the lower reaches of the canyon walls, with rolling benches heading North towards the castle mountain fault at the base of Arkose ridge, within the coal shale filled Moose Range, part of the Talkeetna Mountains.

My duty today was to remove all signs and flagging from the Buffalo Mine Road fire area and then place boundary markers and signs around the new firewood area we have set up. I always enjoy these days because it means time alone in the woods, a clear conscious and the sounds of a fall breeze blowing through the spindly poplar and aspen leaves. The past two days have been especially beautiful, the hues of orange, red and yellow foliage glowing brightly under the puffy clouds and snowcapped mountains of a Fall day in Alaska. The colors are bright and beautifully arranged as if painted by a master. The Fireweed glows yellow transforming into bright reds, filling up meadows often as far as the eye can see. Sometimes, if you’re lucky enough you can reach a meadow filled with fireweed blanketing the understory and willow trees that scream the color of a yellow raincoat, glowing together and begging for you to stop, watch, listen and wonder in quiet contemplation. The silence in the meadows is broken only by songbirds fluttering through the branches of the willows, singing to each other as if commenting on the beauty of the day and discussing when the first big snowfall will be.

Today unfortunately was not one of these cloudless days. A front moved in yesterday evening and filled the sky with low hanging clouds, blanketing the higher peaks with decent snowfall and leaving a drizzle among the lower and warmer portions of the valley. Still, the scenery is beautiful and I am thankful for a day of work out of the office. When I began to reach my destination, I decided to drop the truck into 4x4 and push my way up into the timber, better to get my truck off the road. My first destination brought me along the edge of Moose Creek, at the base of the canyon leading up into the Moose range. As I opened my door, I heard what I initially thought of as a dog howling, after all this is Alaska and many people have sled dog teams, especially in this area. While I stewed on this for maybe a few seconds (really how much someone can stew on something in such short time I do not know), I came to the realization that, no this was not a a dog but instead the deep bellowing howl of a wolf. I began to wonder how safe I was, after all I was about 5 miles from the nearest large road and there were serious numbers of Moose out here. As I peered in the direction of the yelping and howling something caught my eye, first a quick glimpse between the yellow birch leaves; then gone. Then I saw what looked like a very large grayish/white dog, with an unusually bushy tail running down the side of the canyon across the other side of Moose Creek. …WHOA. I had just seen two wolves and I couldn’t have been more exhilarated and fearful. I strapped on my 12 gauge and brought my bear spray with me, because for all I knew they were going after a Moose on the River, or coming to check out myself and the rig. Being alone in the woods is a beautiful thing, but being alone in the woods, with predators and no access to immediate help can be very intimidating. I made my way around the property, eventually cooling my nerves by listening to the sounds of birds, a comforting sign that no predators were lurking in the tall grass or among the willow and birch saplings. I had probably overreacted on my initial thought that the wolves were interested in me, and I’d like to say I had a dances with the wolves experience, but no, I was nervous, and I still have that suburban uneasiness when I first enter the bush alone. I think it will only fade with time, but until then a can of bear spray will do my nerves good.

We all think we understand what it took to homestead on frontier lands, the hard work and toil, but I don’t think until you truly have to face some of the harsh realities of the real world that you can truly understand how hard life is. Reading stories that lead others to idolize people like Chris McCandless, kind of make me cringe. The wilderness is no joke. It’s not there for the taking. I don’t think those of us at home in the suburbs, with our gas heating, cable tv and 16 oz mochas can understand how dangerous these penned images can be. The fear of the unknown is very real, and if you wander out there unprepared and let it take hold of you, your mind will run wild with awful images and originally unforeseen consequences. Since moving to Alaska, I have so much more respect for people who really took it upon themselves to move away from home, search for their niche in a community or in the wilderness and then actually succeed in doing so. The quiet, the immense beauty, the hard work and sometimes the failures of well thought out plans are all very special parts of life up here in the last frontier. I guess what I’m getting at is that real happiness can only come from being connected with something you love, something you have put sweat and tears into, toiled hard hours to succeed at and no amount of money, computer programs, game consoles or hilarious prime time sitcoms can change that. I hope people can understand what I’m saying and not just laugh or shrug this off because it makes them uncomfortable to think about their place in our culture. Too many people make decent wages but look unhappy or just unenthusiastic about anything. Thus, I will end this note, the rambling thoughts of a man who has the distinct pleasure, honor and very appreciated privilege of being able to work in the woods. It’s wet and pretty chilly out there right now, but who cares, I’m working in the woods and the sun is trying to break through the trees. Perhaps I’ll find some more wild currants, I’m tired of seeing only cranberries over here, because I’ll tell ya, wild cranberries are certainly not the ocean spray variety…whooeee are they sour. Ok, no complaining, I hope anyone who reads this has a wonderful day as well!

Whoa now!

Well it's definitely been a very long time since I've updated and I apologize for that. Summer time is hectic here in Alaska, and seeing as it's so short and the days are so long, we are usually out of the house most of the time. Erin and I are getting in to the swing of things, her working at trailside camp and me for the Division of Forestry.

From what she's told me and what I can see, Erin loves her job...at least the getting paid to be outside part. She comes home smiling most days, and I try too as well. My crew and I have been doing work all over south central, AK and it's been a really humbling and learning experience. These kids are so smart and I feel honored to lead them through these resource projects.

As for news on the homefront, Erin and I love our place and all of our flowers and fruits are in full bloom. Pretty soon we are going to be inundated with fireweed honey, raspberries, cranberries, rosehips, watermelon berries, strawberries and others. We've been trying to utilize as much of our natural bounty as possible and it's been a neat experience. The weather has finally warmed, relatively speaking, to a constant mid 60's to lower 70's when it's very sunny. It's been beautiful but of course mixed with days like today...I'm fogged in and feel like we're in Seattle.

I'll have Erin update next, but seeing as she's out bike camping in Eklutna for her job, it'll have to wait. Love you all!

Alaska at its best

I just want to say I love Palmer. It’s a happening place. Let me outline my day for you. First off I must admit I should have ridden my bike the 4 miles into town instead of driving. Oh well, I will do this tomorrow. It’s a beautiful springtime 45 degrees and we are in transition from winter to green springtime. I ate lunch today at one of the new restaurants in town called the Red Beet Café. It’s a pretty neat little place and every week they run a Friday art and tapas showcase. The food is all locally grown or butchered and the meals are perfect size. Also, on Friday evenings they have live music for a few hours. This was my first meal at the Red Beet and it went well beyond my expectations, it was fantastic. I’m writing this update from Vagabond Blues, our local coffee shop, located about 2 blocks from the Red Beet, just past the old train depot and borough library. I love this town and it’s getting better every month. I just have this great inclination that things are happening here and unlike most places, there’s a real attempt to keep local business alive and commercial consumer giants out.

Besides the red beet, a few more places recently opened up. A long time coming has been Turkey Red, a new restaurant serving locally baked breads, poultry and pork along with only organically and sustainably grown produce. This restaurant is really neat and adds another nice touch to the cleaned up downtown area. In the same little plaza (not ugly strip mall, but small plaza on the strip) there is the Valley Winery and a few boutiques. The winery is a really cool place where you make and bottle your own wine, and then let it ferment there. They sell wine making kits as well, and they are all about educating people on making their own beers and wines, which is pretty simple considering the amount of sugary goodness that naturally covers this beautiful state (blueberries, rosehips, strawberries, crabapples, cranberries, raspberries and fireweed).

On top of all this, my friend Tony just opened up a new bike shop, so we now have a locally owned and operated bike store to cater to Palmer residents and in going with the trend it’s in the downtown business section of town. There’s a real sense of community here and it blows away any notion I ever had of a small town, it’s beautiful. People care for each other, watch out for one another and always lend a helping hand. There’s no question about giving a person walking a ride to the top of the hill, or helping someone with car trouble. I imagine this is what Erin’s hometown Vero Beach used to be like before the developers and businessmen got their hands on the small beautiful beach town. I can’t wait for the festivals, carnivals and fireworks this summer all which will take place in downtown. I know this “downtown” district sounds weird since I’m describing a small town, but it’s kind of a misnomer. The “downtown” is a 2 block wide strip that is maybe a quarter of a mile long, with homes and residences spread out across an easily accessible grid system, just as most people would picture the quintessential small town USA. There are no strip malls, shopping malls, 1000 acre suburban sprawling developments (yet and hopefully for a while), billboards or overly manicured lawn areas.

It’s local, it’s natural and it’s beautiful. I think to put the icing on the cake, today I saw elementary school teacher walking their classes down the sidewalk to the library in town, while kids walked the streets heading to the bookstore and coffee shop, as cyclists rode by to head to work or play. As they say…Palmer: Alaska at it’s best.

aurora

been watching the Northern Lights the last 3 nights. You may also know this occurrence by its other nomenclature such as the “aurora”, the “aurora borealis”, or simply…“the lights.” It’s a pretty spiritual thing to watch these waves of bright light dance on the cold night sky, twisting, twirling, bulging and glowing among twinkling stars and snowcapped mountains. The lights bulge with intensity and then fade, sometimes lasting for hours, other times as quickly as a few minutes. At first you simply think to yourself…Hey, where’s that light behind the mountains coming from, what’s going on over there? You see, it’s a strange thing to see new lights on the horizon here, especially when not coming from due south. Light pollution is still pretty minute; so a backlit mountain range to the north throws you off kilter a bit. But then all of a sudden you realize, oh yeah, nothing up that direction for the next 300 plus miles, the lights must be going off!

It’s pretty weird at first, but then you just stand there dumbfounded and awestruck, silent in the winter night, staring up towards the heavens in silent unknowing praise. It’s so quiet at this point, I mean so deafeningly blank, that you can hear your heartbeat as you breath in and out trying to take in this glorious site…that is until everyone seems to oooh, ahhh and hoot all at the same time.

It’s a pretty beautiful thing, the northern lights. In this age of scientific explanations for everything, answers to supposedly all our problems, and a technology to remedy any malady…there’s still something that’s so spiritual and perplexingly mystical about this world. Science can explain the how, and possibly the what; but there’s no way anyone will ever prove the why. Why do the northern lights happen and what’s the point? Yes it’s electromagnetic fields; yes it’s photons from solar flare periods reacting with those fields; but why? No one knows, and I think its best that it has stayed that way. There’s too many answers for everything in our world and sometimes it’s still good to have a faith and belief that there’s still something special out there.

Update

Whoa, it’s been a while since I’ve updated. I can’t type much because I have to go work at Sherrod Elementary for a bit but I will quickly post some pictures. Needless to say, Erin and I had a great honeymoon in Jackson, Wyoming. It’s a place of great natural beauty and of beautiful people as well (as soon as you get below the surface façade of recreation industrial tourism). We had a great time snowboarding, saw some amazing artwork, enjoyed the classic Americana of Wyoming and the conversations with many a local residents.

These pictures are from my camera. We didn’t take many because, well, we were having fun. Erin has some great pictures, a lot better than mine, but I haven’t downloaded them yet. Maybe I’ll put them up some other time.

Erin bootpacking lower Moran

Same caption as above
Resting in the sun after attempt at the boulder section
Hiking up to hit some fluffy pillows!

Went up to Hatcher with Rob & Sierra today. Of course, after spending time making sure I could properly fasten my snowshoes to my pack, I promptly forgot my snowboard boots, thus making it wholly impossible for me to test my pack out. In the end, this dilemma turned out to be alright, and I was pleasantly surprised at how fun jumping down a mountainside with snowshoes on could be. It was pretty insane, you would just jump through the air and take 4 – 5 ft. leaps down through the fluffy stuff. The picture and short video I’ve posted are from our little avalanche pit we dug at the top.

On the drive up, the snow looked decent enough, but upon ascending the ridge we came across multiple signs of potentially high avalanche danger. Luckily, we were on a pretty low angled slope and could choose better options down. Near the top there was a large slab of wind and sun crust. This didn’t seem too bad until rob saw a propagating crack in the snow pack that started at sierra’s foot and ran about 20 ft. down the slope.

Sierra beginning to dig a pit. Notice the top layer.

Crack of settling snowpack under our weight

Holding a block of slab material

Size reference

This slab equals bad news. We had 3 weeks of frigid conditions with no snow. The snow turned mostly to facets (sugar snow), which would have been great skiing. Then it warmed for a week and wet heavy snow and rain fell on the mountains. This wet snow froze, became windblown and now has sun crust as well. The faceted snow from the cold weather has almost no support capability and acts like balls bearings under the solid slab of frozen snow on top. This leads to high avalanche danger. It was a good day to practice our avanlanche skills, that’s for sure.

Notice the sugar snow falling from the block:

This block from under my feet weighed about 30 pounds.

Rob holding the same piece. Close to 6 solid inches of slab!

Holding a piece of slab in one hand, and a handful of ball bearing like sugar snow in the other.

Sierra & Rob inspecting the chunk

The video shows how the hard layer on top has very bad support from the faceted layer of sugar snow beneath it.