Decoded Answers to the Question, “What’s it Like to Work from Home?”

 I saw this online and the answers were so far off from my life that I thought I’d do my own…

“It’s nice not having a commute.” = Sometimes I go two weeks without ever leaving our property.

“It’s super flexible.” = I can choose the recliner, kitchen table, or sewing table as my desk.

“I don’t have a manager breathing down my neck.” = I can curse and be on Facebook all I want. I can eat and drink whatever I want while working.

“I get to work in my pajamas.” = Who am I kidding? I don’t wear pajamas! Seriously, I wear leggings and oversized shirts every day - hardly ever put on shoes except to go to the outhouse, and haven’t worn a bra in 17 months!

“It’s nice and quiet.” = I get to stream whatever I want on Netflix and Amazon Prime while I work!

“It saves money on food and transportation.” = I buy way more online than I should!

“I get to set my own schedule.” = I don’t have to call in sick to have some “me” time.

“It helps to have a good routine.” = Where did I put that scrap of paper with my to-do list on it?

“It’s great!” = It’s lonely sometimes, but I can’t imagine ever having to work by someone else’s schedule again.

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Here is the original post found at https://www.mcsweeneys.net/articles/decoded-answers-to-the-question-whats-it-like-to-work-from-home?fbclid=IwAR1zTml5LJA0aYcxepkCwhBuvOuAs_VMRalcFmvfex_NtC32z2hDhtXo8_E
“It’s nice not having a commute.” = Sometimes I go 72 hours without stepping foot outside.

“My commute is only five steps!” = Sometimes even that seems like too many.

“It’s super flexible.” = One time I went to Wendy’s for lunch and then went back to Wendy’s 45 minutes later for a Frosty.

“I don’t have a manager breathing down my neck.” = I can sit on the toilet for half an hour and no one can stop me.

“I get to work in my pajamas.” = I’ve had a bad hair day for 285 consecutive days.

“It’s nice and quiet.” = I’m so alone I can hear the roof rats scurrying around my attic.

“It saves money on food and transportation.” = Even though there’s one 5 minutes away, I will drive 15 minutes to the third closest grocery store after work to buy a second jar of mayonnaise if it means getting out of the house.

“I’m able to get stuff done around the house.” = I can unload the dishwasher over the course of eight hours instead of all at once.

“It helps if you have a good routine.” = I don’t have a routine, but I’m sure it would help me if I did.

“It’s great! = It’s terribly lonely.

Setting Beaver Traps

After several cups of coffee and a hearty breakfast of buckwheat pancakes dotted with tundra berries, eggs over easy, and cottage ham, all cooked up in our favorite cast iron skillets, it was time to bundle up and head to the boat.

Beaver dam close to home.

Forty degrees on the cabin deck meant that it would be much colder down on the windy river, so parkas and beaver hats were the gear of the day, along with waders, waterproof pants, and gloves. Waddling down the stairs to our boat launch, I could feel the excitement growing in my belly. This was the start of a new season. Trapping season. Beavers make good trapping bait for bigger animals such as wolverines, lynx, and wolves. Their fur is also great for making hats and gloves, even though it has hardly any fair market value.

We motored down the Unalakleet River, toward North River, a smaller tributary with an abundance of sloughs filled with beaver dams. Nuka, our two-year-old chocolate lab, was along for the ride, and excitedly put her front paws on the top rail of the boat and leaned into the wind, nose high in the air searching for animal scents, ears flapping comedically. On our ride toward the North, we were surrounded by birds, Merganser ducks took flight, staying low and parallel to the boat, their startling red heads leading the way. A Bald eagle Soared overhead and an Osprey crossed our path and found a resting place in the top of a pine. It was a gray-blue day with the crispness that fall brings.

Beaver Slip & Slide

Shortly after taking a hard right up the North River, we came to a slough barely as wide as our 14-foot skiff was long, and we idled slowly up, making note of the apparent beaver signs - stacks of freshly bared sticks and trails to and from the river where the tall grass was laid flat and slippery, not unlike a Slip and Slide. Beaver traps don’t require any bait, just knowledge about where to place them - in the water where those trails lead or in front of an open hole in the bank at the waterline. Wherever there are strong signs that beavers are using a route, that’s the place to set a trap, no bait needed. After setting two traps in that first slough, turning the boat around in that narrow passage proved to be a challenge. By killing the motor and using an oar to push our front end around and point it back the way we came, we were able to restart the engine and slowly motor our way out.

Our boat motor is jet propelled, no prop. It makes it easier to navigate the shallow waters of the rivers where we live in western Alaska. However, a jet is extremely hard to maneuver at low speeds because the propulsion is a result of water being forced in a rearward direction, and, like Newton’s Third Law of Motion, “every action has an equal and opposite reaction,” so, as thrust out the rear decreases, so does the directional control, or steering maneuverability. All of this is to say that slowly motoring in and out of a shallow, log-laden slough can be quite the challenge.

Bear tracks

The next slough we stopped at was littered with fresh bear tracks along the muddy bank. I was a little uneasy, but felt much better knowing Nuka was tearing off through the brush making a racket likely to scare anything away before it sniffed me out.

My main job on our trapping expedition was to secure the boat, hand my husband the traps as he needed them, and keep Nuka out of the way. The rusty traps were stiff, but Gregg’s strong hands were used to them and made short work of setting them in the water and securing them with sticks found nearby.

Reflecting on the life of a beaver, I realize it's not far off from my own. They require both trees and water for survival, are monogomous, and thrive in the winter. Also, they continue to grow throughout their lives, with women being larger than men. Having an amazing ability to change their environent to suit their needs, these remarkable creatures actually have a positive impact on climate change. In addition, they are quite resilient, rebuilding a destroyed home, known as a lodge, overnight. Finally, the English term "to beaver" means to work hard.

After setting eight traps in four different sloughs, it was time to head home to a late lunch of leftover Caribou Jalapeno Cheese hot dogs. Beavers are very active this time of year and we expect we’ll have beavers in most, if not all, of the traps by tomorrow afternoon, when it’ll be time for another adventure.

Beaver Traps

News Writing Lesson using Fractured Fairy Tales

Click on this link for the original story on which the following notes and news article were created.
 Cinderella Fractured Fairy Tale


Most Important - they lived happily ever after
Who - Cinderella and the Prince
What - slipper
When - two days after the ball
Where - in the garden
Why - to find who the mystery lady was
How - all women to try on slipper
Attribution (source of information) - Oscar, the grey mouse
When in doubt, err on the side of attribution.

Prince Finds Perfect Fit

Kathy Kysar
Roving Reporter

FAIRY TALE LAND - Yesterday, the prince found the mystery lady from the Ball locked in the garden at the Stepmother’s house. After his horses were startled by a mouse and nearly trampled Cinderella, the homeowner’s stepdaughter, the Prince discovered that the owner of the glass slipper was Cinderella, also known as Cindy. They immediately began to live happily ever after.

According to Oscar, a grey mouse and personal friend of Cindy, the Prince was “totally captivated” by her at the Ball. After leaving the ball by private coach at midnight, she discovered that she had lost a shoe, a glass slipper.

The next day, sources close to the cheese-vine said that the Prince had fallen in love and was determined to search out the owner of the glass slipper he had found left behind by a woman he didn’t even know by name.

Yesterday, shortly after arriving at the Stepmother’s house, it was determined that the small shoe did not fit any of the three women in residence there. Upon the Prince’s departure, the horses, scared by a mouse, ran the carriage through the garden gate, revealing a fourth woman on the premises, who had been locked in the garden and prevented from greeting the Prince. Charges against the homeowner are pending.
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The next part of this article, should it continue, would be about the Godmother’s help in preparing Cinderella for the ball. Then, background information of Cinderella’s mistreatment would follow. However, it is unusual, except in cases of a feature article, for that much detail to be included. Your article should be at least four paragraphs long, so include as much detail as you need to get that much on paper.

Friendship Overcomes Plasticity

This is a text analysis of the lyrics, "Red Solo Cup," by Toby Keith.


"Red Solo Cup" by Toby Keith

Now red solo cup is the best receptacle
From barbecues, tailgates, fairs and festivals
And you sir do not have a pair of testicles
If you prefer drinkin' from glass

Hey red solo cup is cheap and disposable
In fourteen years they are decomposable
And unlike my home they are not foreclosable
Freddie Mac can kiss my ass, woo!

Red solo cup, I fill you up
Let's have a party, let's have a party
I love you red solo cup, I lift you up,
Proceed to party, proceed to party

Now I really love how you're easy to stack
But I really hate how you're easy to crack
Cause when beer runs down, in front of my back
Well, that, my friends, is quite yucky

But I have to admit that the ladies get smitten
Admirin' at how sharply my first name is written
On you with a Sharpie when I get to hittin'
On them, to help me get lucky

Red solo cup, I fill you up
Let's have a party, let's have a party
I love you red solo cup, I lift you up,
Proceed to party, proceed to party

Now I've seen you in blue and I've seen you in yellow
But only you red will do for this fellow
Cause you are the Abbott into my Costello
And you are the Fruit to my Loom

Red solo cup, you're more than just plastic
More than amazing, you're more than fantastic
And believe me that I'm not the least bit sarcastic
When I look at you and say:
"Red solo cup, you're not just a cup (No, no, God no)
You're my friend, yea (Lifelong)
Thank you for being my friend"

Red solo cup, I fill you up
Let's have a party, let's have a party
I love you red solo cup, I lift you up,
Proceed to party, proceed to party


Friendship Overcomes Plasticity

Ralph Waldo Emerson once wrote in his journal, “It is one of the blessings of old friends that you can afford to be stupid with them.” Toby Keith may have had that very line in mind when he wrote “Red Solo Cup.” After all, right or wrong, many people have found solace in this iconic plastic container. The theme of friendship can be traced throughout these lyrics both metaphorically and through historical references. 

The metaphor of friendship, as illustrated by a red solo cup, can be most clearly seen in the refrain of Toby Keith’s lyrics, “Red solo cup, I fill you up. / … / I love you red solo cup, I lift you up.” Friendships can often be ways of filling up a void in one’s life or one’s heart. To be a good friend, it is also necessary to metaphorically “lift up” those you hold close, to be there for them in hard times and support them in their endeavors. It is in this way that the red, solo cup literally becomes Keith’s friend. He continues this relationship reference through to the end of the lyrics, “Thank you for being my friend.”

The theme of friendship is clearly articulated by historically referencing both Abbott and Costello and Fruit of the Loom, “... you are the Abbott into my Costello / And you are the Fruit to my Loom.” Bud Abbott and Lou Costello were an American comedy team, popular in the 1940’s and 1950’s. Their most famous routine was “Who’s on First?” and they were known as inseparable friends. In a similar connection, according to Wikipedia, Fruit of the Loom, trade name for a popular underwear brand dating back to 1851, was coined to parallel the biblical phrase, “fruit of the womb.” Since womb refers to having children, this allusion seeks to create a close relationship between the product and the consumer, a sort of friendship.

Toby Keith may not have had Ralph Waldo Emerson’s journal entry in mind when he wrote the lyrics to “Red Solo Cup,” but he certainly did make some valid points about friendship, both metaphorically and through historical references. Deeper meanings can be found in the lyrics that float around us on a daily basis, if we only listen.

She's a Writer

This is a post from a couple of years ago that I have heavily rewritten to serve as an example of a Literacy Narrative for my class this week.

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“Hey, I really enjoyed what you shared today. It was really good,” thanked Dee Jay, visiting poet, heading out the door.

“Thanks.” I looked up from the papers I was quickly filing between classes.

“She’s a writer,” Teresa, Language Arts guru from the School District Office, explained as the door closed behind them, on their way to the airport.

She’s a writer. SHE’s a writer. She’s a WRITER! Those words echoed around me all afternoon.

Dee Jay DeRego was a guest speaker in my classroom a couple of years ago. He is a spoken word master from Juneau who has traveled the world sharing this art form. He writes and recites poetry, but it’s so much more than that. He bares his soul, causes the listener to reflect, and teaches students to do the same.

I was in the third grade the first time I was recognized, and recognized myself, as a writer. My teacher had sent a note home to my mother, sealed in an envelope and safety-pinned to my coat. I was a hardworking, quiet student, so it never occurred to me that I might be in trouble as I handed the envelope over to my mother that evening. She set it aside and continued stirring the spaghetti sauce.

After dinner, I heard her talking on the phone in the kitchen, leaning up against the wall and twirling the phone cord with her perfectly manicured fingers.

“Is this Mrs. Johnson?”

I stopped dead in my tracks, hand on the screen door to the back yard. I had walked through the kitchen quickly when I saw her on the phone, so as not to disturb her. My mother did NOT like to be disturbed on the phone. Mrs. Johnson was my teacher. My mother never called my teacher. I started shaking, standing there in the alcove that led to the back porch, wanting to hear but not wanting to hear.

“Hello. This is Mrs. Kysar… Yes, she did… Well… no… I can’t imagine a thing like that!... Wait-... Was that a story she was to write over last weekend?... She wrote that herself. I saw her sitting at the kitchen table writing… No, I’m telling you. She wrote that…Yes, I’m sure!... She is a very intelligent girl… Yes, I know she’s quiet… Well, thank you… Yes, I’ll continue to encourage her… No. No problem at all. Thank you, Mrs. Johnson… You, too.”

I closed the screen door quietly behind me, instead of letting it bang shut like I usually did, and walked toward the swingset, almost on tiptoe.

As my mother tucked me into bed that night, she explained to me that Mrs. Johnson thought I had copied my creative writing story that I turned in the day before. It was THAT good! I fell asleep with a smile still reaching from ear to ear.

The highlight of Dee Jay’s visit to my class was when he recited his own “I am from…” poem. A reflection back on growing up homeless, it was filled with metaphors and descriptive language. He then gave the class five minutes to begin writing where they were from. After walking around the room for the first minute getting all of the students settled in to the task at hand, I sat with my own notebook and favorite blue ink pen. I began to write.

I am from broken hearts and broken homes,
Shattered dreams and drowning tears,
All washed away in this fast moving river called Life.

I am from second chances
Rising out of the darkness like a late sunrise on a winter’s day.

Writing was always an escape for me, more so than reading. When reading, it’s like watching a movie, but when writing, I become the movie. I become someone else. I literally wear someone else’s shoes. I can feel them on my feet. I can hear them as I rock back and forth. I can see the tracks they leave in the dirt.

I won the Arbor Day Writing Contest in Junior High, wrote for the school newspaper in High School, and entertained my friends by creating stories about them and their secret crushes in Tarzan and Jane stories that circulated the school faster than a trashy novel.

I finished my first novel at 28, but it was turned down by more publishers than I can name. Meanwhile, I’ve been an advertising sales rep, recruiter, radio announcer, teacher, restaurant owner, professional baker, pheasant hunting lodge caretaker and guide, and on and on. The one constant in my life has always been writing. In 2018, Mother Earth News, Alaska Trapper, Trapper’s World, and Last Frontier Magazine have all accepted and printed my articles, all nonfiction. I’m also working on novel number two. Stephen King’s first novel, Carrie, received 30 rejections before finally being published. That gives me hope.

What sticks with me the most about the day when Dee Jay came to my classroom are those three words Teresa spoke as they walked out the door. I’ve always struggled with identifying myself as such, never taken it too seriously, always had a “day job.” However, that’s who I am. That’s who I’m becoming. It’s time to jump into the deep end of the pool and do this. I’m now looking forward to the first time I introduce myself, “Hello. I’m a writer.”

Smoke on the Water

Good Book!

This morning, I climbed out of bed and as I pulled yesterday’s shirt over my head, I inhaled deeply the smell of smoked salmon. It was a good day. The smell of wood smoke has always been my favorite scent, whether it lingered in my hair after an evening campfire in the fall, or entered my classroom on the coat of a student, just returning from a spring sugarbush outing.

This morning’s musky aroma surrounded me as I drank my coffee and settled in to finish a book I’d been reading, True North, set in the Alaskan bush. The heavy scent hung in the air like a warm coat, easing the chill in the cabin caused by the fall breeze wafting through an all-night open window over the kitchen sink while I carefully labeled and stacked the dozen pints of freshly canned, smoked salmon from the night before.

My fishermen!

Putting up food for winter is a hefty endeavor out here in the last frontier. Thanks to the kitchen staff at the Unalakleet River Lodge, young men from the Lower 48 who love to fish in their chest waders standing in the River during their few precious hours off, I’ve got nine Silver Salmon, cleaned, filleted, and frozen, waiting for me to process and put away for winter. My Big Chief smoker will only hold three fish at a time - however, three of these huge fish make 12 pints when dried, smoked, and canned. That’s plenty for the two of us, with some leftover to share. Of course, I think I probably ate half of a fish yesterday, during and after they smoked! To me, the taste is better than chocolate!

It started with an overnight Teriyaki brine. After cutting the sweet, red meat into half-inch strips and three-inch fillets, removing the pinbones with needle-nosed plyers, into the washtub they go. This was my first time to smoke and can salmon by myself. After trying Gregg’s old fillet knife and my new “cheapo” ulu, I settled on the trusty chef’s knife from the block on the counter as the most efficient way to cut up the fish. The skin on a ten-pound salmon is thick and tough. Anything less than the sharpest knife in the house just won’t cut it cleanly, and I certainly didn’t want to make a mess of this fleshy, red gold on my counter. Some of the meat wasn’t completely thawed even after sitting out overnight, and I discovered that these partially frozen pieces were much easier to cut, and I made a mental note for next time.

Teriyaki Brine Recipe (for 20 lbs of fish)
2 cups Bragg’s or soy sauce (I use Bragg’s.)
8 cups water (I used rain water.)
½ cup sea salt (Don’t use the salt with iodine added.)
2 Tbsp chopped garlic
1 cup brown sugar

Big Chief, full up!

The next morning, after a 15-hour soak, I patted dry each piece of salmon with paper towels, and laid them out on my four mismatched, smoker racks. One of my racks is made from two smaller, grill racks that I “tied” together with paperclips and those needle-nosed pliers. It works like a charm! Drying and racking the salmon took me over an hour! Then, out to the smoker, after covering the drip pan with a fresh piece of aluminum foil. I had some Hickory chips left over from last year that I had put in a bowl to soak in water the night before went into the chip tray. My metal smoker is concealed inside a plywood box with a hinged door, to help keep more smoke inside. The only thing I don’t like about my smoker, other than it being too small, is that it’s electric, so I have to plug it into the generator and deal with that noise for 10 hours. But, it is what it is. Meanwhile I head down 40-some steps to where the three, full, gas cans sit on the grass near the boat launch. Time to haul those up for use in the generator.

Within 10 minutes, smoke is pouring out of the upper seam of the plywood box. Success! For the rest of the day, every hour and a half, I have to go out and dump the ashes out of the chip tray and refill it with new wet wood chips. At the six-hour mark, I took the door off of the inner smoker to take a look. The thin strips were getting nice and brown and the fillets had that beautiful, oily moisture bubbling to the surface. At eight-hours, I removed all of the fillets. The flavor was perfect and I wanted them to stay nice and soft, while I left the strips in for a couple of more hours to continue to dry and smoke until almost the color and texture of jerky. When all was finished, around 8pm, I brought the fish inside to can.

Smoked Salmon for dinner, of course!

While the salmon had been smoking, I boiled my pint jars and lids in rain water to sterilize them, questioning whether or not the orange film of pollen on top of the water was going to cause any problems. Oh well, I figured that the pollen was also sterilized by now, and chuckled to myself. I have a beautiful, 25-quart, pressure cooker/canner that Gregg gave to me over a year ago, but all I’ve used it for so far was for processing jars in a hot water bath. This was to be the first time I used the pressure canner part of it. After packing the salmon into the hot jars and making sure the lids were on tight, I set them in the canner, ready and waiting with 16 cups of water already inside. My canner has an additional rack so that I can stack jars in it, so, with eight pint jars on the first rack and four more on the top rack, it was ready to go. With our propane burner on high, it took a good 15 minutes for the canner to get up to 10 pounds of pressure, which was where it needed to stay for 110 minutes for safely canned salmon. After that, it took another 15 minutes or so to cool down to the point where I could remove the pressure canner lid. The smell of smoked salmon immediately filled the cabin. Being that it was almost 11pm, Gregg was already in bed upstairs, but even he called down about the intoxicating smell.

As I removed the jars, one by one, I could see the salmon oil still boiling inside each one. Left on a towel on the counter to cool overnight, the sight of them this morning reminds me of all the work it took to get those 12 jars, and as I step out on the porch, the fog hovering on the river is reminiscent of yesterday’s smoke. A deep breath brings the slightest tang of that deliciousness that now sits safely in the back of my pantry, and I smile as I begin my day.

Mermaid Tears

Since glass has been around for 4,000 years, sea glass has been around for at least 3,980. Generally, it takes 20 to 40 years for glass to become the frosty, chemically, and physically weathered gems that are found on the beach.

Ocean currents from around the world make their way to the 6,640 miles of shoreline that make up Alaska, meaning that the sea glass found here could be from anywhere in the world.

However, my favorite story includes Wyatt Earp, who came to Alaska in 1898, the year before gold was first discovered in Nome. Wyatt soon opened the biggest saloon in Nome, which was a more profitable business than gold prospecting. Back in the day, most trash was simply dumped out at sea, meaning tons of glass bottles and jars ended up in the bottom of the ocean. That glass broke down, and continues to break down, before ending up on beaches along the west coast of Alaska, including Unalakleet.

Within a year of Wyatt’s Dexter Saloon opening, up to four ships left Seattle everyday, headed up the coast to Nome. These ships were often loaded with as many as 700 people, tons of general merchandise and mining machinery, dismantled theatres, hotels, and restaurants, all bound for the west coast of Alaska to set up an “instant city” in the small fishing village of Nome. Again, glass bottles were thrown overboard to lighten the load along the way.

Being that the waters around Nome were, and still are, too shallow for ships and docks, the steamers carrying the passengers were met by smaller boats that transported them and the cargo to 30 feet from shore, where the women and cargo were carried by the men, who waded through the surf. It was quite a production!

Meanwhile, another story passed by word of mouth is that Wyatt also had a floating saloon of sorts that traveled across the Norton Sound, between Nome and St. Michael. Every empty beer and whiskey bottle was thrown overboard and it is that boat from which most of the Norton Sound sea glass comes. However, I have been unable to find any written documentation of any such occurrence.

Finally, there is a legend as old as time that when a sailor drowns at sea, the Mermaids cry, and their tears wash up on shore as colored glass

One thing is for sure; the possibilities are endless as to the history surrounding these pieces of glass, tossed around in the Bering Sea for generations. The mysteries of the surf will remain just that. 

 A friend of mine spends many hours walking her dog on the shores of the Norton Sound. She creates these beautiful earrings out of the glass treasures she finds on these adventurous outings. Combined with Swarovski Crystals and semi-precious gemstones such as turquoise, quartz, and colored agates, these Bering Sea glass earrings are a truly unique and valuable piece of jewelry, custom made in Unalakleet, Alaska.

Subsistence

Smoker less than half full.

Our lives revolve around seasons, not calendar months. I can’t really tell when the years begin and end, they just continually flow from one season to the next, each with its own unique challenges and rewards. As I write this, it is mid-July - fishing season. Because there are just two of us in our household, we don’t subsistence fish like most folks do with big nets or fish wheels. Also, since we live on the river, fresh fish are available to us year round. However, we do love smoked salmon, so we will be fishing with rod and reel to catch a couple dozen throughout the summer. We have an electric Little Chief smoker that we plug into the generator, but are looking to upgrade to a gas smoker sometime in the near future. The smoker can hold six fish at a time and I give it a good 10-hour smoke after soaking strips and filets overnight in a homemade Teriyaki brine. Then they will be canned in pint-size jars, the perfect size for salmon patties all winter. I will freeze a half dozen, unsmoked, double-filet packs for us to enjoy baked or seared during the frozen months after the salmon have all either left the river or died on its banks. The muluksuks, dead and dying Humpies, will litter the banks by September, having completed their life cycle literally in our front yard, but I’m getting ahead of myself.

Blues and Salmons

Fishing season piggybacks gardening and foraging, beginning mid-June and lasting until after the first hard freeze sometime in late September. Foraging begins with Fiddle Heads, which appear soon after the snow disappears and are the first fresh, green vegetable we’ve had in months. Then, the Dandelions appear with the Spruce Tips and Rhubarb. Dandelion Jelly tastes just like honey and it also makes a good salve for sore muscles and a soothing oil for dry skin. This year, I made a Spruce Tip-Rhubarb Jam that we fell in love with; it has the citrus taste of spruce (not piney at all) with the tartness of rhubarb and the aroma of Christmas (fresh pine). The rhubarb came from our garden, even though it does grow wild on the tundra. The tundra rhubarb tends to be very small and sparse in our area.

Moose quarter as long as a 4-wheeler!

While waiting for the Fireweed to come into full bloom, weeding the garden, and watering it and the greenhouse keeps me busy. Fireweed blooms will be made into jelly by the end of July, when the tundra berries - Salmon, Blues, and Blacks - will be ready for picking. There are hundreds of acres of berries just at the top of the hill behind our cabin. Some of these will end up frozen in quart bags in the freezer, ready to be made into pancakes, pies, and muffins throughout the winter months, while others will end up as jams and jellies to be traded or sold at the local Saturday Market in the village of Unalakleet.

They call him "Dances with Wolverines"!

As fall approaches, the cranberries will ripen and be at their peak just after the first frost. Canning and freezing of garden produce will ensure that we’ll have the vitamins and minerals we need when the days are dark and the nights are long and cold. We only hunt moose in the fall if the caribou in our freezer runs short, because we like the taste of caribou much more than the taste of moose. However, it is not unusual for someone to gift us with a moose quarter in the fall when the hunt is on, because Gregg is considered an elder, being over 60 years old. One quarter is all we need to supplement our diet for an entire year. Our community has a great tradition of sharing their catch with elders. We cut the meat off of the quarter to eat and the bones and scrap are perfect bait to begin trapping season.
After the river freezes by November, trapping begins in earnest. The skins from the animals will help us buy gasoline, which is the backbone of our existence. The meat from the animals will provide more trapping bait. Gregg traps mostly marten, wolverine, lynx, and fox, but an occasional wolf is more than welcome. Going along with him on the trapline is always an adventure! Freeze-up also gives us a chance to bring in firewood from frozen beaver ponds and other places that are inaccessible during the summer, even shooting the occasional Spruce Grouse for a little dinner variety.

Caribou quarters hanging in the conex.

Winter brings its own abundance in the form of Rose Hips and ice fishing, even if water collection becomes more difficult. We get our water from the river, no filtration system necessary. Winter means chopping a whole in the ice or snowmachining downriver a mile or so to an open spring to fill up four 5-gallon buckets at a time which last us about 10 days. The difficulty of winter water collection means fewer showers and less laundry. Collecting snow to melt is an endless task since it takes about six full buckets of snow to equal one full bucket of water, not taking into consideration all of the straining it takes to make snow melt clean.

Caribou grounds.
We live just southeast of Egavik.

Spring comes slow, bringing with it the season of caribou hunting. While the rivers are still frozen, it is possible to travel north, across the eastern edge of the Norton Sound, by snowmachine in order to get to the fertile caribou grounds between the Ungalik and Inglutalik Rivers. It is there that we find enough red meat, four or five caribou for a family of two, to sustain us for a year, with enough to share with the occasional guest. The trip requires a party of two to travel at least 180 miles roundtrip (four hours one way) on snowmachines, towing sleds behind, each person wearing a rifle around their shoulder, an overnight camp in a thin tent in subzero temperatures, and meals of barely thawed sandwiches. It’s a taxing trip, both physically and mentally, but the reward of fresh caribou is hard to beat. After field dressing, the animals are towed home in the sled, quarters hung frozen in an old conex container that serves as a storage building, while the organs, ribs, and loose meat, back straps and tenderloins, are processed immediately on cardboard covered folding tables in Gregg’s workshop in town. The frozen quarters are thawed out six at a time and we cut them up into roasts, stew meat, and a scrap box that will be turned into sausage and burger. The bones are saved for the trapline. Very little is wasted, as is the nature of subsistence living.

Seedling window shelf

Close behind the caribou hunt comes the spring thaw. Seeds get planted in trays and set on the kitchen table to which the middle, extender board has been added, and they are lined up in the other south-facing window where Gregg has built a 12-inch deep shelf just for this purpose. While the growing sunlight works its magic, I begin to prepare the greenhouse, working in short sleeves while snowmachines are still driving past on the frozen river. Dead plants need to be pulled and fresh fertilizer, egg shells, coffee grounds, and compost added to soil in pots with plenty of water to get them ready to serve as a fast growing medium.

Break up, as spring is aptly named, brings bird season on its back, geese, ducks, and swans. Again, we are usually gifted fresh game birds because Gregg is an elder and I have a connection with former students in the village. I must admit that Swan is the best-tasting poultry I’ve ever had the pleasure of eating. Its red, breast meat most closely resembles good, grass-fed beef - no kidding! The last of the river ice floats out to sea just as the time for spring planting begins, sometime around the middle of May, signaling the time to start foraging for Fiddle Heads.

And so the circle of our seasons goes round and round, each bringing abundance and challenges.

Coming Home

Most people leave a sedentary life behind to go on an active vacation - camping, fishing, hiking, sightseeing, walking the beach, maybe even renting an ATV for a day of backcountry fun. I leave my active life behind to go on a sedentary vacation. Don’t get me wrong. I love to visit family and friends, but time away from my life is difficult for me. It’s easy to get fat and lazy in the Lower 48. After a month there, I’m convinced that I would weigh 300 pounds if I lived in a suburban neighborhood again. There, I don’t burn any calories walking down the hall to the bathroom, turning on a faucet for water, washing clothes, walking to and from the car, sitting out in the sun, pulling a few weeds in the garden right outside the front door, going out to eat (no prep or cleanup), and on and on.
I actually missed my daily hikes up and down the hill to the outhouse, usually several times a day. It gives me a chance to chatter back at the squirrels, look for new buds on the spring flowers, work my upper body pulling myself up the hill with the rope, work my legs and glutes climbing from root to root, and practice quick steps and balance coming down on wet leaves. Yes, a flush toilet is nice, but totally unnecessary.

Hands down, the one thing that I enjoyed most on our trip was warm, running water. Several years ago, when I was living in Kwethluk, Alaska, in southwestern Alaska, on the banks of the Lower Kuskokwim River, about 10 miles east of Bethel, as the crow flies, we were told, as new teachers in an introductory inservice, to be aware that village kids will want to use the bathroom all of the time, mainly to wash themselves in the sink. Then, when I first moved to the village, before I learned to say, “No,” a half dozen local, elementary age boys would knock on the door, asking, “Can we visit?” Shortly after opening the door, they beelined for the bathroom, where I had liquid soap in a pump container on the sink. They rolled up their sleeves, soaped and washed and scrubbed up to their elbows, laughing and pushing and splashing like nothing I’d ever seen. After several minutes, I had to tell them that that was enough and shoo them out of the bathroom. I never understood… until now. You see, no homes in the village, other than teacher housing, had running water. I now have complete understanding of what those children were experiencing in my bathroom all those years ago. On vacation, I washed my hands every chance I got. I also never let any dishes sit in a sink anywhere, regardless of whether there was a dishwasher or not. The sheer joy of warm, running water and the ease of keeping the kitchen counters cleared and cleaned was enough to keep me smiling as I washed, constantly. However, the ease of having warm water with just the mere twist of a nob certainly does not burn the calories of hauling it up from the river, and warming it on the stove. That lack of calorie usage combined with the accessibility to Culver’s frozen custard was not a good thing for my waistline!

I packed light for the trip, just a carry on, knowing that I would have access to a clothes washer and dryer. Changing into clean clothes every day and washing everything every few days was a real splurge for me - and the washing machines now are completely automated! They sense the load size and adjust the water level! At my daughter’s house, all I had to do was push two buttons to wash a load and two more buttons to dry them. The dryer even played a little tune when the clothes were finished, not the annoying buzzer sound of my youth! As pampering as that all felt to me, it also felt overly indulgent, and I get a lot of satisfaction from washing clothes in a hand-cranked tub with water warmed on the stove. After ringing those clothes and hanging them on the line to dry, I can stand back and look at everything I accomplished. You just don’t get that same feeling with an automated cleaning system.

As much fun as visiting the new Aldi’s grocery store in Wausau, Wisconsin, was, I would buy (and eat) way too much food if I lived there! My daughter and I just hopped into the car, which was in the attached garage, and zipped over to the store in no time at all. At home, if we run out of butter, we’re just out of butter. That’s it, until the next time I go to town, which may be tomorrow or may be next week. For me, going to the store in the summer involves gathering an empty tote from downstairs (to transport the goods back to the cabin), any trash that needs to go to town, and empty gas cans, hauling it all down the 40 steps to the boat, usually over the course of several trips, climbing down the bank (because there is no dock) and loading it in the boat, getting back out to gather the anchor, push off, and drive the 20 minutes into town, quite possibly through the rain, or bugs if it’s dry. I like the rain better. Once in town, the boat needs to be pulled out with the trailer behind the 4-wheeler (again, no dock), and driven the hundred yards to Gregg’s workshop where the boat is then unloaded. I can walk across the street to the grocery store to pick up whatever we need - don’t forget the reusable bags because they no longer use plastic. I usually grab a few things from our freezer, too - caribou meat and cheese. While I’m in town, I’ll load the empty gas cans and trash on the 4-wheeler and drive to the dumpster area to get rid of the trash and then on to the single gas pump in the village to fill the cans, stopping at the post office on my way back to the shop to pick up any boxes I might have in from Target or Amazon, where I do most of my grocery shopping. Then, all of the goods acquired have to be packed into the empty tote and loaded back into the boat along with the full gas cans. Then, the boat is returned to the water via the 4-wheeler and trailer duo and anchored while I park the duo and walk back to the boat. Time to head back upriver, goods protected from the weather by the plastic tote. Once home and the boat is anchored, everything has to be unloaded and hauled up the 40 steps to the cabin. Only then, can the groceries be unpacked and put away, storing the tote back downstairs until the next trip. Whew! All for a stick of butter!

Sitting outside on the porch at my sister’s house in Gig Harbor, Washington, it occured to me that there were no bugs. The obvious lack of mosquitoes in a rainforest climate made me uneasy, while affording me the luxury to relax and read, being serenaded by the sounds of construction vehicles coming through the woods just beyond my line of sight. I’m not sure if the city sprays pesticide or if it’s just because of the individual houses and the chemicals used to control pests and weeds, but it actually worried me. Of course, this morning, as I have already killed at least a dozen mosquitoes while writing, I question my pesticide concerns. Mosquitoes are so thick outside right now, that I wear a mosquito head net to do most anything - wash windows, weed the garden, walk the trail. I also shake like I’m doing the hokey pokey (you know the part where “you turn yourself around”) before going into the cabin to make sure I don’t have any freeloaders riding my back inside. Still, those little buggers are everywhere! That brings me to the idea of sitting out in the sun. It’s just not going to happen here! Although, I have noticed a conspicuous lack of those varmints in the village, because there’s usually a strong breeze and I imagine they don’t breed in the saltwater of the Bering Sea like they do in our river water upstream. Perhaps, I’m due for an afternoon in the sun on the beach. I’ll be sure to keep my eyes peeled for bears.

I was blessed to spend over two weeks with my daughter, her husband, and their new baby. Jack was less than three weeks old when I arrived and April was still recovering from a difficult C-section. Therefore, I was delighted to pick up the slack and even did some planting and weeding for her in the garden out in front of their house. It was literally two steps out their front door. At home, I have to go down a dozen steps, a few tricky steps down a steep slope, and then another two tall steps into the garden to weed (we live on the side of a mountain). In addition, I have some planters down below the greenhouse, which involves taking the 40 steps down to the riverside. Again, I’m counting calories burned here and as pretty as April’s garden is, it’s not going to get me where I need to be in order to have another one of those frozen custards!

Vacations always involve lots of eating out. This one was no different. Thankfully, my husband and I are of the same conviction to avoid fast food chains at all cost. Therefore, we usually seek out the locally run, mom and pop cafes that serve large portions of hearty food. I really wish they’d let me help cook and clean up, because just sitting in the booth while someone serves me is only adding insult to injury where the caloric burn, or lack thereof, is concerned. We were waiting for our one and only steak dinner of the trip at the Y Steak House in Park Rapids, Minnesota, to be delivered to our table while indulging in homemade rolls with soft butter, only to discover that the first bite of the perfectly cooked, medium rare steak made us look up at each other at the same time and longingly say, “This sure ain’t caribou!” Eating only caribou and moose has spoiled us both so badly that we don’t even care for beef anymore! We both had a serious case of withdrawal from our native foods by the time we got home. There’s also a great sense of satisfaction in eating meat that you chased down, shot, cleaned, and packaged yourself. It’s just one more byproduct of an active lifestyle.

I’m just one of those people who gets more done when they are busy. For example, when I was a high-school-teacher-single-mom, I was also on any number of committees, coaching any number of activities, and running two girls everywhere they needed to go all while keeping the house clean, cooking homemade meals, mowing the lawn, and growing flower gardens that were worthy of being featured in the local newspaper. However, when summer came, after I finished teaching summer school and the kids were visiting their father for a couple of weeks, I became a slug. Dishes piled up, laundry didn’t get done, I went to the drive-thru for dinner, and didn’t even take a shower most days. I’m surprised the cats got fed. I had nothing pressing to do, no deadlines, no meetings, no time schedules, nothing. Without that, I couldn’t even make myself do the most mundane tasks of keeping house. I work better under pressure, juggling too many commitments, and looming deadlines.

You may be wondering what kind of deadlines I could possibly have in my offgrid life. Well, right now, we just got back from a month in the Lower 48. The river ice only went out two days before we left. Before that, we were stuck at the cabin for almost three weeks, no way in or out. When we came back in mid-June, it was summer. I’d already missed fiddlehead season, so I was pretty bummed about that. Meanwhile, my garden had been planted the day before we left and that and the seedlings in the greenhouse had been left to their own devices for a month. If I want any harvest at all this year, I’d best get after the weeds and transplanting seedlings. Oh, but wait, the cabin is a dirty wreck from a long winter. My first priority was to get it cleaned top to bottom - windows, floors, everything. I just finished that today and the dandelions are starting to go to seed. I sure don’t want to miss that deadline, so today I’ll be picking dandelion flowers to make jelly and a healing, topical oil, and leaves for canning. Oh, and I had let my online grocery shopping slack while on vacation, so we don’t have any vegetables in the house! I just finished those orders last night.

Meanwhile, I’m keeping an eye on the berry blooms and need to get up on the tundra and pick wild rhubarb while it’s in season. I should have done that yesterday! I’m going to be working at the Unalakleet River Lodge starting mid-July and that will be a 7-day/week job until September, so I need to get my fishing and smoking and canning done in the next month. I also have magazine articles that need to be completed and turned in for looming deadlines, syllabi to write for online writing courses that I’ll be teaching this fall for the University of Alaska - Fairbanks (those are due immediately), and Saturday Market projects to finish before the next market in less than two weeks. Did I mention that I’m writing a book?

So, yeah, I have deadlines, commitments, and pressures, even if they are selfmade. I’m smiling to myself as I write that. Selfmade. I definitely live an active life. I choose every day to live this life. It’s an easy choice for me. I may not have modern conveniences common to most, but I do exactly what I want all day, every day. No ornery boss. No corporate ladder. No common core. No bullshit. That reminds me… I need to go clean up the dogshit down by the boat landing. I’ll add that to my list.

It's a New Season

Tuesday was my last day to travel by snowmachine to the village for the winter. Is this the only place where April 24 can still be considered winter? Regardless, I am now settled in at the cabin until the river ice breaks up and floats the eight miles out to the Bering Sea, carving the riverbank along the way to possibly reveal a hidden Mammoth tusk or tooth and making new channels and sandbars for us to learn to navigate this summer. I parked my machine at Gregg’s shop, between the buildings, a cover pulled over to protect it from the elements until next fall. My 4-wheeler sits parked beside it, covered since last fall, waiting for my return from the Lower 48 in June to be uncovered and revved up for summer, when I’ll drive it the 12 miles out the dirt road and across the tundra to park at the cabin for berrypicking and summer exploration trips in the vast expanse that has become my backyard. Meanwhile, we wait and pray for the river to open before our flight leaves on May 13 to carry us to the arms of family spread from Washington to Michigan.

Tires ready for planting.

I rode home on the back of Gregg’s machine, pulling a sled filled with provisions including a case of whiskey and a rubber tub filled with caribou, milk, eggs, and other essentials. We also loaded up several, old 4-wheeler tires that Gregg has stacked outside his shop, having been thrown aside when folks had him install new tires for them.  After cutting the inner rims out of the top and bottom of the tires, they will serve as vegetable and flower planters both in and out of our garden space. I’ve been doing some reading about soil-warming techniques, and, living where we do, permafrost isn’t very far down and our soil stays pretty cold all summer, even with the long days of sunshine. Cold soil makes it nearly impossible to grow most vegetables – my radishes, cabbage, and beans in the garden last year just laughed at me. This year, I’ll be planting those in raised beds courtesy of those old tires!

Iron Dog & Iditarod Trail Markers

Gregg also made several trellises out of Iron Dog and Iditarod trail marker stakes that he gathered along the river and cross country trail between here and the village. The trails get marked with stakes every 100 yards or so in March. When the river breaks up, the stakes end up in the bottom of the river or out in the Bering Sea, so I feel like we do our part to keep the environment clean by gathering them and reusing them. It’s also free wood that can be used in a variety of ways around our homestead! They make perfect trellises for climbing vegies like cucumbers, beans, peas, and zucchini.

Wednesday, Gregg headed back to town, intending to continue making the trip until the river became unsafe, which was probably only a few days away. However, the river ice had changed so much overnight that he left town earlier than anticipated, and drove home on our oldest, smallest snowmachine, 2005 Skidoo Tundra – one that can be loaded

Ole' Trusty

onto a boat and taken back to town after the river opens. The cracks in the river are now 5-8 inches wide and the open holes are growing larger and meeting up, creating places where one has to water-skip the snowmachine from one patch of ice to the next. It’s no longer safe to drive on.

Fresh Jelly

Meanwhile, I stayed home and made jelly from blueberry juice that I had strained off of frozen berries I used in dessert bars. I hate to throw anything away, so I had saved the juice, instead of straining it down the sink. I also had some dried Lavender that a retiring teacher had given to me last week, after clearing out her kitchen pantry. After making Lavender tea (steeping the lavender in water and straining it through a cheese cloth), I mixed it with the blueberry juice and created an absolutely delightful jelly! I then made a batch of straight Lavender jelly that tastes similar to Fireweed jelly, quite a treat!

Thursday was the first day since October that not one person drove past our cabin on the river. We are settled in now for a couple of weeks of peace and quiet. It’s starting to sink in as to how truly self-sufficient Gregg and I could be if we had to. However, I sent him out to fish for dinner yesterday and the river was so muddy from the ice melting that he didn’t even get a bite. Thankfully, we have a week’s worth of semi-frozen caribou in the cooler, in addition to canned tuna, chicken, and Spam in the pantry (don’t knock it – browned Chorizo Spam is pretty darn good for breakfast!).  We certainly won’t starve.

If there was an emergency, we could probably ride out, cross country, on the little Tundra, although it would be quite a task to get it up to the top of the half-snowdrifted/half-mud hill. Once at the top, we could nurse it across the tundra to the road, drifted 10-feet high with snow the last time I saw it. In any case, I suppose it’s an option. We’ll just work smart and hope for the best.

New Clothesline

Today is Friday, and Gregg is currently building a sturdy clothesline across the deck so that I can make use of my first anniversary gift, a shiny, new wash tub and clothes wringer! We currently have a couple of bungee cords strung between posts on our porch that are barely enough to dry out wet towels and hand-washed underwear. We’ll need something more significant for workpants and shirts. Last summer, I took the heavy items like that and washed them at the Unalakleet River Lodge, where Gregg works in the summer. It was little more than a quarter-mile hike through the woods, carrying the clothes in a duffle bag on my back. However, I don’t like relying on others and wanted to be more self-sufficient… thus, my new wash tub.

Getting the Greenhouse ready.

My next project for today is to head down to the greenhouse to heavily soak all of the soil in my pots down there. The dirt is extremely dry from sitting out all winter and needs a couple of days of loving care before my little seedlings are transplanted into them. My tomato seedlings are six-inches high, so it’s time to send them to the greenhouse. We’re past hard freezes, now, and the days are amazingly long, at least 16 hours of daylight. I believe we gain an hour of sunlight every week right now. I’m counting on these vegies and herbs to not only provide us with a year’s worth of food, but also to give me a little extra to sell at Saturday Markets – I already have people asking about it. Perhaps I’ll just hang a sign out down by the river and have folks stop by here to get the produce fresh out of the greenhouse to take with them to their fish camps! That’ll be a first out here, for sure!

On The Air

We actually have a radio station right here in Unalakleet, Alaska! The KNSA studio sits on the edge of the Bering Sea and broadcasts in a way that most folks outside of the village might think is quite unique. Having very limited hours of local programming, the station simulcasts KDLG out of Dillingham, 350 miles away. Hearing want-ads and advertisements for a place that is a world away (16 hours by plane, because you have to go through Anchorage to get there) may seem a bit odd. 

However, the real fun starts when Open Line airs at 11am on weekdays. Open Line is a program where listeners from anywhere in the world can call an 800-number to leave a live message for someone in the KDLG/KNSA listening area. Usually, it’s locals wishing happy birthday to one another or summertime shout-outs to fisherman out on boats in the Bering Sea and Bristol Bay areas. You can listen to recorded shows at http://kdlg.org/programs/open-line-1-800-478-5354#stream/0. You have to hear it to believe it! I mean, where else can you hear “Happy Birthday” sung in Yupik by an elder, live. It’ll make you smile.

Also, radio stations out here in the bush have no specific demographic that they are targeting, no consistent genre for their music. However, they do occasionally have Oldies or Country as their theme for the morning, but when I hear rap songs interspersed with country music, it does make me cock my head in wonder. I suppose there is kind of a theme in not having a theme, right? It reminds me of every restaurant I ever ate in in Bethel (between Unalakleet and Dillingham). I kid you not, every single restaurant in Bethel serves burritos, sushi, chow mein, spaghetti, pizza, and hamburgers – no exception. You can get anything anywhere – no focus, no specialty, everything. Just like bush radio stations – it’s really sort of comical.

The 9:15am weather forecast as given by Sam “Wolfman” Towarak right here in Unalakleet, though, has to be my favorite part, just because Gregg and I make fun of him the whole time. Sam is a good guy, but just can’t seem to say anything without saying everything, if you know what I mean. It’s not enough that he plays the station identification jingle between every song, sometimes several different versions back to back – I counted 14 station I.D.’s during an hour one time, and plays Biance’, AC/DC, and Johnny Cash one right after the other, but when he gives the weather report, it’s the bomb. If you can keep up and actually tell me what the weather report is after he’s finished, you’re a better listener than me! [I’m giggling as I write this.] Just for kicks, I recorded the eight minute report yesterday and transcribed it here, just for you!

Anyway – uh – the forecast for today is. You know to, we were sss-, we had forecast this ‘un here to be a real nice day and everything, that it was going to be a time to go work on your allopin(?). There won’t be no ice on it, but there will be ice because of the blowin’ snow. It’ll form on top and, uh, so maybe you can’t go. (laughing to himself) Ca-Cause I’m, I’m sitting at home dissowing, you know?

Areas of blowing snow here today after one o’clock. It’s gonna be miserable. It’s gonna be sunny with a high near, near 29. I think it was forecast for 28 yesterday. Anyway, east winds 15 to 25 miles an hour. They increased the winds on us. No wonder. It’s blowing like east at 29, now. Ain’t gonna make it out, ain’t gonna make it out ‘ere in the country. I was supposed to blow from the south, huh? Southwest or southeast or somethin’ like that. They change it on us. Anyway, tonight, snow likely, mainly between one in the morning and four in the morning. Areas of blowing snow before one in the morning. Areas of freezing fog after one in the morning. Increasing clouds with a low around 17. Let’s see here. East winds decreasing to 5 to 15 miles an hour after midnight, but it’ll blow 15 to 25 all night. The chance of precipitation for tonight is 60% new snow. Accumulations of one inch is possible. I gotta look at the map and see what it’s, where in the world it’s come from.

Friday, uh, 50 percent chance of snow mainly before 10 in the morning. Mostly cloudy with a high near 28. South winds around 5. We don’t want it to warm up. No, no, no. We want it to stay like this. Uh. We gotta. We gotta take advantage of all that snow out there. Otherwise, uh, people are gonna be goin’ up a, ya know, uh - it’s gonna melt and stuff. Everybody wants to go cruising on the flats where there’s no – they can go anywhere with. Man, ya. When it’s like that, the little crust up on top – Man! (sigh) You. When I was fishing, we’d just leave the trail. We’d leave the trail and go up on the hillside, just goof around while we’re goin’ home. Now, me and my wife, we can’t do that (fake crying sounds). Bad back.

All right. Friday night. Scattered snow showers, mainly after 4AM. Mostly cloudy with a low around 16. So, it’s, uh, 28 and 16 on Friday. Let’s see if Saturday’s any better.

Scattered showers before, uh, snow showers before 7AM, then slight chance of snow between 7 and 10. Then, it’s mostly cloudy for the rest of the day. High near 28. So, 28’s gonna bet the mantra for the rest of the weekend. East winds around 5. Hey, there’s no wind on Saturday. That might be the day. Mostly cloudy with a low around 12 on Saturday night.

Sunday’s partly sunny with a high near 26 and a low of 12 and then Monday’s mostly cloudy with a high near 22, uh, low around 15. Tuesday’s chance of snow, mostly cloudy with high near 23, low ‘round 15 and Wednesday, uh, high near 21. So, yes. We have what we want. We wanna - we – we wanna have – we don’t want that melting weather. Uh, that, I know, people want spring but you gotta think, yeah, think ahead.

Oh, let’s look at nine o’clock conditions [it’s now 9:20] before I, uh, think ahead. Uh, Gambell, cloudy, 32 degrees. Wind direction is missing. And the winds, uh. Kotzebue. Blowing snow and fog. 20 degrees. Winds out of the east at 26 with 3 miles visibility. Nome’s mostly cloudy. 25 degrees. Winds out of the east at 17 with 8 miles visibility. Savoonga. Unknown precipitation. 31 de – whoa, there’s the 31 degrees. Southeast at – oh boy, it’s blowin’ though. Southeast. That’s the wind that we’re supposed to get. Southeast at 44, gusting to 49 with 3 miles visibility. And, Umonuckuk(?). Clear. 19 degrees. It don’t blow around here. East at 25, gust to 29. 9 miles viz. And Golovin is clear. 22 degrees. Winds out of the southeast at 17. Elim. People always say, uh, “You don’t say Elim right.” Elim. E-lim. El-im. Fair skies in Elim. 22 degrees. I’m probly the only one reads Elim weather. I don’t know. Fair skies. 22 degrees and calm and 10 miles viz over there. Koyuk. I said it right. Mostly cloudy. 24 degrees and calm. Buckland cloudy. 24 degrees. Winds out of the east at 20, gusting to 25. Boy, the wind picked up today. Noatak, snow and fog. 21 degrees. Winds out of the southeast at 15, gusting to 22 with 5 miles viz over in Napaktuk. Napaktuk. And, uh, St. Michael is clear. 24 degrees with – Hey (mumble). Blue skies over there that listen. They listen over there on Kobuk Lake, and they always wanna know the weather. “This is not Kotzebue! We’re not in Kotz!” They’re closer to Noatak than they are to Kotzebue. So, that, uh, it’s for them, those guys on Kobuk Lake. Louie Senior. I wonder he in the dog race? I don’t. Sprint race. I wonder he has sprint dogs? He has to. At his age, he’s gotta have a team. And then, Buddua, ‘course. Buddua. One of these days you’ll wanna – Hey Chuck, Chuck Shafer’s up there – Buddy’s buddy. (laughing at himself). I wonder he’s still over at, if it, over at training, uh. I don’t think I. I’m wondering if he gets it. Buddua. I wonder if you could, uh, give him a call on the, uh, VHF is it. “Do you. Do you listen to Sam? He talkin’ ‘bout you now.” And, uh, I don’t know. Those guys call every once in a while. Good morning, anyway.

St. Michael is clear. 24 degrees. Winds out of the northeast at 6. And Stebbins is sunny. 26 degrees. Winds out of the northeast at 5, gusting to 8. 10 miles and clear of there in beautiful, downtown Stebbins. Good morning, Champs. Yeah, I played that song for you guys, too. And, Shaktoolik – NO. White Mountain is mostly clear. 22 degrees. Winds outta southeast at 12, gusting to 18. Shaktoolik is clear. 22 degrees. Winds outta southeast at 16. Kaltag is clear. Zero degrees and calm. Anvik is not available. I’m too lazy to go look. I’m too la- l-. Oh, that’s right, we gotta look at the, we gotta look at the, um, where the storm is coming from. I’ma put it on so we can, so we can see (pause). See, oh, there’s a little bit in between Nome and, um, Savoonga that’s that snow. There’s fog around Nome again. Ahhhhh, let’s see here, Shageluk. (pause) Doesn’t look like Anvik’s reporting. They’re correct. Sorry, I can’t give Anvik weather. Let me check, make sure. Yep, Marshall. All right, uh, St. Mary’s. S’cuse me. Clear. 21 degrees. Winds outta the east at 20. Mountain Village. It says, “Not available,” too. Ah, let’s see here. Mountain Village is 21 degrees. Winds outta east at 20. 10 miles and clear. That was at nine-ten AM. And, uhhhhummmm, (humming). Emmonak! Mostly cloudy. 25 degrees. Winds outta the southeast at 19, gusting to 26. And, uh, those guys over there? They listen. Hey, good morning! Yeah, I’m glad you tuned in, uh, a few of ‘em. Not as many as, uh, Kotlik. Kotlik there’s four people. In, um, Emmonak, there’s two. (phone rings in background) There it goes. We listen. (he speeds up) Anchorage is clear. 20 degrees. Winds outta the north at 20, gusting (phone rings again) to 28. (he begins speed-talking) Backtomoremusichere onKNSA---- (queue “Hard Day’s Night” by the Beatles)

Thanks for making me laugh, Sam, even if I don’t have a clue what the forecast is!