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!

Oil Tank Refill Adventure

That's the oil tank up there behind the trees.
Hey, that tank is waaaayyy up there!

So, Gregg left early to go Caribou hunting this morning and I went back to bed after he left. When I got up later, the cabin was cold. I checked and the heating oil was out! We knew it was getting low so we had a 5 gallon can of it to pour into the reserve tank, but Gregg didn't want to do that until the big tank was completely out, so that he would know exactly how much oil we still had. So, of course, the tank runs dry this morning and I had to refill it with the 40 pound, 5 gallon can. First, I had to break trail through two feet of snow uphill to the tank, and brush the snow off of the top to find the entry point.

Then, I had to slide back down the snowy hill, get tools from his shop – a wrench, hammer, and chisel, go back up the hill with these tucked in my pockets, because I needed my hands to climb up the snowy slope. I finally got the cap off of the tank and then trudged/slid back down the hill to get the oil can. In order to get it up the hill, I had to swing it a couple of feet up in front of me, take two steps, swing the can up again, take two more steps, and on and on. By the time, I got to the tank, I was out of breath for sure!

That slope is much steeper and
more treacherous than it looks!

It was 10 degrees outside and I had on snow boots, leggings, fleece jacket, and gloves. As I leaned against the metal tank to pour the oil in the top, my leggings froze to the side of the tank. Thankfully, they didn’t rip when I pulled away! That’s cold, folks!

After the 5-gallon can was empty, I screwed the tank cap back on, and slid/trudged back down the hill, can in hand, put the tools and can away, and could hardly believe that I’d actually just accomplished that all by myself.

I went inside to start the oil stove (cabin was now 54 degrees) and thought to myself that I bet Gregg does these things to me on purpose, because he knows I can take care of things, but I doubt myself. He wants me to be confident that I can do what needs to be done around here when he’s not around. I did it!

Getting Ready

It’s been two years since Gregg’s been on a caribou hunt. They’ve been too far north to make the trip feasible. I squirt a nickel-size puddle of cocoa butter oil into my palm to rub on my hands before slipping on the yellow rubber gloves I use to wash dishes. The oil absorbs into my hands as I submerse the gloves into the wash water; it’s like having a spa treatment for my hands while I wash dishes.) The water has been heating on the oil stove for an hour and is almost boiling, perfect temp for washing dishes that practically dry themselves, but impossible for my bare hands to withstand.

This year, the caribou are closer. Word from a local pilot has it that there is one large herd of a hundred and several smaller groups just 50 miles north, near Shaktoolik. I always start with the silverware, letting it soak for a few minutes in the steaming tub of soapy water. The plastic is blistered around the inside of the yellowed tub a couple of inches from the top from the scalding dish water that’s been poured into it over the past 20 years or so. Each fork, spoon, knife, and serving utensil gets a thorough scrub before being dropped into a twin tub in the next sink hole, steam raising the humidity in the small cabin to mold level. That reminds me; I need to check the floorboard behind the trash can again to see if it needs a bleach wipe down.

“What are your plans for next week?” Gregg asked as he walked in the door last night, smiling broadly. Since his small engine repair shop in town is open Tuesday through Saturday, Saturday is his Friday, which meant he had two days of trapping in front of him and he was in an exceptional mood, despite having hurt his back a few days ago lifting a snowmachine into the shop by himself. At 62, you would think he would know better and call for help, but he’s pretty damned independent, which happens after spending 30 years in bush Alaska.

“Caribou hunting!”

We had been discussing the prospect for the past several weeks, hoping for a bit more snow and word of exactly where and how many caribou were up north. The plans were now firmed up. 

We would pack up and head out Tuesday morning, intent on camping at least one night on the winter tundra, maybe two. There is a lot to do over the next two days to prepare, so while Gregg went out to check the trapline this morning, I decided to start by cleaning up the kitchen. I always hate to come home, after being away, to a pile of dirty dishes. We only wash once a week; sometimes I can eek out a day or two more, if we use soup bowls instead of plates for a meal or two. Because we have to haul our water and heat it up on the stove rather than just turn on a tap, we are mindful of dirtying dishes. Fourteen mismatched plates are stacked in the cabinet amid an assortment of bowls and glasses. In the silverware drawer sit 26 forks (yes, I counted them), and a few less spoons and knives. Since we use mostly cast iron that can be wiped clean with a paper towel or heated on the stove with less than a cup of water for tougher mess clean-up, there really isn’t a need to do dishes more than once a week for two people. Gregg uses the same coffee cup for a week. However, I change out about every third day. The dogs provide a useful plate-cleaning service after every meal so there is never dried food stuck to the dishes when wash day rolls around. We live in a very symbiotic environment.

Since Gregg came back with a fox from the trapline, he went into town to take it to the shop to thaw so that he can skin it tomorrow. He said the fox was caught in the snare with a marten that was only a skeleton. Apparently the fox had caught the marten and was carrying it in his mouth when he walked into the snare. You just never know what you’re going to find out there.

I’m beyond excited to go Caribou hunting for my first time, even though I’ve been wearing a brace on my right arm, just below the elbow to help with pain from “tennis elbow,” basically a strained muscle that the doc doesn’t know what else to call it. Try resting your right arm, not moving it or using it, while living my life. Pretty impossible, but last week, I did wear a sling for a few days and talked Gregg into doing the dishes and some other extra chores that I usually handle. I think it did hurt less, but as soon as I started using it again, it flared back up. A couple of days ago, when Gregg mentioned that I might not be able to go on the hunt because of my arm, I smiled, sat up comically straight, and declared that I had had a miracle healing! No way was I going to miss this Caribou hunt! I can heal later! (My sister will not be so happy when she reads this. I love you, Holly!)

I was thinking that I might be able to do laundry this week at a friend's house in town. They generously let us use their washer and dryer during the winter, which usually amounts to two or three loads one day during the first week of the month, more when I wash linens every couple of months. During the summer, July-August, I use the fishing guides’ laundry space at the Unalakleet River Lodge, toting the laundry in a canvas duffle bag on my back across the quarter-mile footpath. In the shoulder seasons of spring and fall, I make use of our own small washtub, which holds five pounds of clothing at a time, and clotheslines on the porch. Since I won’t be doing laundry this week, I’ll go ahead and wash underwear and socks on the washboard in the kitchen sink tub after I dump the dirty dishwater and warm up some fresh wash water. It’s really not a big deal, just another chance for a hand spa treatment. Then, I’ll hang them on a bungee cord stretched between the kitchen cabinets and the pantry, over the oil stove, to dry since it’s not cold enough outside to freeze dry them.

Tomorrow will call for a trip to town to go through all of the camping gear stored at Gregg’s shop, and pack the sled.

VRROOOMMMM!!!

VRROOOMMMM! One one-thousand. Two one-thousand. Thr—VRROOOMMMM!

When the river became a racetrack this week, our quiet cabin sat on the front row. The world’s longest, toughest snowmobile race crosses 2,031 rugged Alaska miles from Anchorage to Fairbanks via Nome, along the Unalakleet River twice, on the way to and from the gold rush city.

This year, the race began last Sunday, February 18th, in Anchorage with 49 teams of two. The first team crossed the finish line in Fairbanks at noon today, February 24th, while I was writing this post. Less than half of the teams will finish the race due to injuries and mechanical problems.

There are checkpoints along the route approximately every 100 miles, sometimes nothing more than a tent and fuel that was air-dropped to the location months prior, and costs the racers up to $8 per gallon.

The Trail Class teams whizzed down the river Monday afternoon; one team even stopped to chat with Gregg as he was out checking his trapline. Then, the Pro teams came racing down the river in the middle of the night; 18 teams came through overnight, to be exact. Eighteen pairs of snowmachines, one just a few seconds behind the other, traveling at 80mph fifty feet below our bedroom window, over and over, all night long. The remaining five teams continued to race past until early afternoon, after which I took a much needed nap on the couch.

Because of severe weather, strong winds and blowing snow, the racers were kept in Unalakleet on a weather hold for 30 hours, before continuing the trek north to Nome. While in town, Jacob Evans, from team #15, was directed to Gregg’s small engine repair shop for a brake lever. Apparently, his had broken a hundred miles back and he had driven into Unalakleet (sometimes upward of 80mph) without brakes. Gregg, always ready to help, removed the working brake lever from a snowmachine in his shop that was going to be turned into scrap after going through the sea ice earlier this winter. He told Steve just to mail it back to him when he was through with it, since Steve had a new one waiting for him in Nome, his next major stop. With a smile on his face, he left Gregg’s shop, brake lever in hand.

After a mandatory layover in the city where gold was discovered by “Three Lucky Swedes,” the Iron Doggers began their journey to Fairbanks, which took them back south through Unalakleet, to avoid impassible mountain ranges. Thankfully, their pass through this time happened late morning through early afternoon yesterday, Thursday.

2,031 miles in six days with 37 hours of actual driving, 46 hours of mandatory layovers, and a 30 hour winter-weather hold, these tired souls crossed the finish line in Fairbanks, and this is just the start of the racing season out here.

Next up is the Iditarod Trail Invitational, a thousand-mile, bike, foot, or ski (the racer’s choice) marathon that begins in less than 24 hours just outside of Anchorage, traveling the same route to Nome that the Iron Doggers just did, right in front of our cabin. At least this race is much quieter! The world’s longest, winter marathon will have 22 competitors this year. Even though that race can last up to thirty days, the true Iditarod dogsled race will have its start in Anchorage next Saturday, March 3rd, race past our cabin around the 7^th, and the leaders will most likely cross the finish line in Nome sometime on Friday, March 9^th.

It’s a busy few weeks on the river and signals to us that spring is just around the corner, but the next few weeks are crucial. We need more cold and we need more snow in order to get the most out of our traplines and have a smoother caribou hunt next week.

www.irondog.org

www.visitnomealaska.com

www.iditarodtrailinvitational.com

Iditarod.com