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!
