The Spirit of The Man

I’d watched enough outback Alaska shows and read enough books about bush life in Alaska to know. I’d done my homework. I was 48 years old. I’d been around the block. Half a dozen times. I could hunt, catch, and clean wild game and fish. I could bake bread, use an iron skillet, and wash with nearly no water. I loved dogs, gardens, and the smell of wood smoke. I was prepared. Or so I thought. I was ready to meet my Mountain Man.

“Dances with Wolverines,” he was aptly named by locals.

I’d never met anyone like Gregg.  I could never have imagined anyone like Gregg.

I have a traditional education, Bachelors in English, Masters in English Education, plenty of graduate hours, and dreams of a PhD. Gregg has a high school diploma and a year of trade school, I think. However, I have never met a more well read man -deep thinker, philosopher, adventurer. I’ve never seen a larger, more well-used library in anyone’s house as I saw in his self-built cabin, eight miles upriver from the nearest year-round neighbor. The walls were lined with books, large and small, and music, CDs and cassettes, of all genres. A crossword puzzle book lay open on the kitchen table amidst the kerosene lantern, empty coffee cup and an ashtray filled with cigar ends.

Having spent more than 30 years in rural Alaska, his life has surely been rough and rugged, with an edge of deprivation, yet long stretches, several months even, completely alone in the wilderness which gifted him with time to read, observe, think, and write. Endlessly. Boundlessly. Ad infinitum. He has now spent more of his life in the Alaskan bush than in the Minnesotan civilization of his youth. He has come safely through the last, true, great wilderness of the Americas and emerged truly self-sufficient, because he has learned how to guard both body and soul, while filling dozens of spiral notebooks with his daily observations of the natural world around him and his place in it.

“The only thing of value is time,” he says with all seriousness.

For a man of 61, his strength is a constant surprise to the college-age fishing guides down at the Unalakleet River Lodge, where he works in the summers. Both the frat boys and the seasoned naturalists definitely hold Gregg in high regard, with a respect that is unmatched by anything I’ve ever seen. He’s also considered somewhat of an Alaskan novelty by the guests, earning their admiration through stories of wild animal encounters too unbelievable to be made up. In Alaska, more than anywhere else I’ve ever been, true, raw, physical strength has a much greater appeal than the strength of world-class athletes. Here, physical strength is an absolute necessity, whether it’s packing out 500 pounds of game meat a number of miles through uncut brush or pushing a beached boat 15 feet back into the water, through heavy, wet sand, during an extremely low tide. There are no choices to be made in these situations. The tasks have to be completed, and it is in that manner that physical strength is all wrapped in grit and character and hard-won knowledge.

The depth of Gregg’s spirit lies not in the immense library of adventure and survival books he has accumulated over the years, mostly through second hand stores and online sales. It doesn’t come from the daily crosswords and Sudoku puzzles that he’s constantly trying to improve his completion times on. The intensity of his life force does not come from brute strength, sheer nerve, or even absolute willpower. It is something less tangible, a sort of inborn, deep empathy for this kind of life, something akin to a perpetual identification that originates from a deep and satisfying contentment which is derived only when there is absolute freedom of thought and action.

“You just keep me around to carry heavy things,” he jokes.

There might be more to that truism than its obvious literal meaning. It’s his endless smile and love of life, balanced carefully with realism that really helps me carry the heavy things. The burdens in my heart and soul. It is the easiest thing in the world for me to love Gregg. His patience with my learning curve, devotion to making my life easier, and easy laugh all work together to make me feel like the luckiest woman in the world. How he ever came to love me is a mystery that I hope I never fully understand. What we have together is a blessing and I am proud to call him my husband.