CM*D30: I blow past Mike, Hutch, and Hayden on my bicycle as they motor down to the Little Su
Tuesday, October 13, 2009 at 4:10AM 
As I pedaled my bike down Shrock Road toward the Little Susistna River, I saw these two ahead of me, on the four-wheeler trail that runs down the ditch. It looked to me like there might be a third person on the first machine, so I pedaled harder, hoping to catch up so that I could find out.
;)
Sure enough, there was, and as I came pedaling past, taking their picture, they were surprised to see me, but seemed friendly. Just after I shot this frame, I came to the steep downhill, so I hurriedly slipped my camera back into my pocket, cranked the bike up into the very highest gear, then pedaled hard until I was going so fast that there was no further resistance in the pedals.
I shot far, far, ahead of them. I figured that I would see them no more.
;)
At the Little Su, I pulled off the road and went down to the bank. As I stood at the river's edge, I saw them coming down the hill. While the odds seemed against it, I hoped that they would pull off exactly where I was, so that I could learn their names and hear their life history.
And they did. They could have kept going straight or they could have chosen any one of five alternate paths from the road to the river, but they chose the same one I did.
So - the littlest guy, that is Hutch. The man with his hand on the littlest guy's head is his dad, Mike. The one in the blue jacket is Hayden.
;)
And this is their life story: they live not far from me and on their walks, often come down Sarah's Way, right past my house. They were amazed at what a beautiful warm and pleasant day it was.
And, as you can see, they are responsible four wheeler drivers. They did not take their machines past the sign prohibiting it. You can see tracks where others have.
Fourwheelers can be very hard on salmon spawn.
And a lot of salmon come here to spawn and die. If I am around more next summer or at least am here at the right time and nobody is injured and I have any time, I will show you. There used to be a huge cottonwood log that spanned the river just to the right of this spot and while the water is shallow there now, it was deep back then, about ten feet, swift, cold and crystal clear.
I would go stand upon the log and watch the salmon pass by beneath. Some would be red, some mottled green and brown, some already gray and decaying - the swimming dead. Once my dog slipped and fell in on the upstream side. There were some bad snags on the downstream side and I feared that the current would take her into those and hold her under, but somehow, and I do not know how, I managed to grab her just when she popped up on the downstream side of the log. I yanked her out of the water.
She was a an Alaskan husky, the daughter of two dogs that the late, great, Susan Butcher sold to Ketil Reitan, an Iditarod racer originally of Norway, married to an Iñupiat who was living in Kaktovik - the only village in the famous Arctic National Wildlife Refuge. He gave her to me once when I was visiting Kaktovik, so I put her in the back seat of my airplane and flew her home.
It was an interesting trip.
She is buried in the backyard, along with Thunder Paws, Clyde, Sherbert and Little Runt. Perhaps in the future, I will find ways to work all of these wonderful characters into this blog. I don't know how I would do it, but perhaps I will.
And then when the salmon all spawned out, died, and washed up on the bank, it smelled terrible, yet it was one of the smells that we in Alaska treasure so greatly.
*Cocoon mode: Until I finish up a big project that I am working on, I am keeping this blog at bare-minimum simple. I anticipate about one month.
Reader Comments (5)
Thank you so much for my daily excursions into Alaskan life. I so enjoy my coffee break with you as I get to see what is interesting in your day. Hope your work is going well.
Our animals' stories wind their way into our stories, and soon you can not tell the end of one story from the beginning of the next. I'm sure that if you ponder it, a story will come to you, and it will include Thunder Paws, Clyde, Sherbert, and Little Runt. Maybe then, we will also learn the name of the dog who swam with salmon.
I love that you go out and meet all these people and find out about them. I also love that they were responsible in not destroying salmon habitat. My father worked for years trying to educate people about salmon and spawning. I spent many many afternoons with him walking creeks and rivers, learning from him.
I'm now a daily reader of this blog. You're inspiring me.
Thanks for the great post! I've seen you three times in the last seven days, either riding your bike or walking. I always mean to stop and introduce myself, but I never do. I will one day.
I saw you down Bogard on your bike a few days ago after taking my partner to work (he is Bruce at the MacHaus...we are sort of your neighbors as we live up off Lucille on Ravenview). Then I saw you on your bike near the new coffee shop, then walking last week on Seldon.
Don't know why I had to share this but Bruce always asks me when I pick him up from work if I've had my "Bill Hess sighting of the day". If I haven't seen you on the road I then ask him if he's had his "Bill Hess sighting of the day" at the MacHaus!
I thought you might appreciate the fact that we document our "Bill Hess sightings". Seems like something that might make you chuckle, even though I've never met you!!
Keep up the great photo work; always enjoy everything you do including the Kracker Kats.
Alicia from Ravenview
Thank you, Grandma Nancy. If my work was going well, it would be all done now. I don't feel like it is ever going to be done. It did go fairly well today, though.
Debby, the dogs name was Willow, because she was born in Willow when Ketil was driving down to Anchorge from his final Iditarod training grounds near Fairbanks for the race start that year. As for the stories coming to me, that is easy. It is finding the time and justification to work them into the blog that is a little tricky, since I can never even keep up with the present.
Hi Mikey. Glad you are here. I will falter sometimes, but I hope you will keep coming back, anyway.
Tha'ts a funny story, Alicia. Makes me feel like I must be one of those odd character I used to see roaming around Missoula, Montana, when I was a kid. Say "hi" to Bruce.