CM*D30: I blow past Mike, Hutch, and Hayden on my bicycle as they motor down to the Little Su

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.

Russia, as seen from Alaska: Ten views, including one through a living room window and another from a front porch

While roaming my computer, I came upon a shoot that I did in Little Diomede in late March, 2005. As one resident of my hometown managed to turn the very real truth that you can see Russia from Alaska into a national joke, I decided to run this series of photos that I took in Alaska, with Russia in the background.

View #1: Flying into Little Diomede, Alaska, from Nome. The smaller island in front is Little Diomede. The larger island in the back is Big Diomede, Russia.

View #2: Russia through the wind screen. The pilot banks hard to avoid flying into Russian airspace, as that would upset the Russians.

View #3: Russia as seen from the Iñupiat village of Little Diomede, where a polar bear skin hangs to dry.

View #4: Russia, as seen from a front porch in Little Diomede.

View #5: Russia, behind a sled dog tethered to Alaska.

View # 6: Orville Ahkinga Sr. looks out his Little Diomede window toward Russia.

You can't even see Russia in this picture, but where are these kids headed to? Could it be Russia? They would only have to travel about two-and-a-half miles.

View #7: The kids head off to Russia. No! I jokes! The Russians don't allow that. When you are on Little Diomede, you can look at Russia, but not touch Russia. There are military men stationed there to make certain that you don't and they will detain you if you try.

The kids are going to catch a plane that will take them to a basketball tournament down in Gambell on St. Lawrence Island - another Alaskan community from which I have photographed mountains that stand in Russia. In Gambell, the day must be very clear to see those Russian mountains, as they are 40 miles away.

In 1994, I flew to Russia in a North Slope Borough helicopter. Our route was Barrow-Nome-Gambell-Providenyia. After that, although our pilot had cleared us to fly to other places, Russian officials changed their minds and made us leave the helicopter on the ground. So we flew around in a Russian helicopter that was, essentially, a big, flying, bus.

Perhaps, one day, I will recount that trip here. It was amazing and caused me to fall in love with Russia, or at least the far east tip of the country. Everywhere I go, I seem to fall in love with the place, but I always come back to my first love - Alaska.

By the way, there is no permanent airstrip at Little Diomede, which rises sharply from the water. This is the ice of the Bering Strait.

The weather here often gets so bad that planes do not come in for days, even weeks. After the ice starts to seriously melt, the planes will not come at all.

In the summer time, the weather and waters are treacherous, making it very risky to try to come in with a float plane. There is sporadic helicopter service, weather permitting.

View #8: Returning home from the maternity ward of the Alaska Native Medical Center in Anchorage, Jamie Ahkinga places a hand over little Marcus Kobe Okpealuk, the baby that she now keeps sheltered under her Parka. While in Anchorage she also went shopping at Wal-Mart with the man who holds her hand, Lane Okpealuk, father of Marcus.

View #9: Standing on the Bering Strait, waiting to fly to Nome.

View #10: Freight is taken off the plane and luggage loaded on, with Russia looming in the background.

Just minutes ago, she stood on the Bering Strait with Russia standing behind her. My time at Little Diomede was much too short and I wanted to go back. I imagined that the next winter or spring I might come and hang out for awhile, but it didn't work out that way. Now, where is that wealthy philanthropist that is going to drop half-a-mil or so on me so that I can do this blog right? So that I can hop off to places like Little Diomede at will? In my own airplane?

FOR HELL'S SAKE! PHILANTHROPIST! Patron! WHERE ARE YOU??????

CM*D29: Kalib gets naughty at IHOP, I spot a hunter on Church

We took Kalib to IHOP today and he was naughty. Very, very, naughty - the naughtiest that he had ever been during any outing that we had ever taken him on.

He even hurled a crayon that struck a lady at the next table in the back of the head.

That's how naughty he was.

We were all quite proud of him, because he was acting just like a kid in his "terrible twos." Kalib has over too months to go before he reaches his "terrible twos."

So we knew that he is above average, advancing fast. We were so proud, our chests swelled and our bellies damn near burst right through our shirts. 

Even so, we kicked him out, shooed him away from the table and sent him outside. His dad went with him. 

Soon, he was at the window, eager to come back in and raise more chaos.

If you wonder why the two glasses and Cholla sauce are on the window sill, it is because we put them there while he was still inside so that he would not knock them across the table.

Later, in the afternoon, I was driving down Church Road when I spotted a hunter on a fourwheeler.

I wonder if he got his moose?

Do you think he was naughty when he was a toddler?

*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.

The Railroad Condos - the most elegant, pleasant, exclusive neighborhood in all of Wasilla*

Not so long ago there was a big plot of vacant land by the railroad tracks across the Parks Highway from Wasilla Lake.

We all knew that such vacant land could not be allowed to stand. When we saw the contruction begin, we wondered what someone could be building, right by the railroad tracks and the highway.

Of course. A huge condominium complex. I am quite certain that it is the hugest in all of the Matanuska-Susitna Valley.

I actually took this picture on September 17, when I was riding my bicycle back from Kendall Ford, where I had dropped the Escape off for an oil change and routine maintenance. I didn't use the picture then, so I will use it now.

I wondered why anyone would want to live here and why it is that developers insist upon doing this kind of thing to Wasilla.

Have you ever driven down the Parks Highway through Wasilla?

Truly, it is an appalling sight. And it just keeps getting worse.

One of the most beautiful locations on earth, and this is what they do to it.

And then a few days ago, I passed by at the same time as the train and I understood - at least the part about why anyone would want to live here.

A straight line from our house to the railroad tracks is about 2.2 miles. Sometimes at night when I am lying in bed, not quite asleep, I hear the train clattering down the tracks. I hear the whistle blow. And I like the sound of it. It is pleasant, dreamy and soothing.

My mind drifts off to that train, and travels with it to far away places, even beyond the reach of the Alaska Railroad. I am a child again, hoping freight trains in Montana.

And that's from 2.2 miles away!

Think how much all that pleasant, dreamy, soothiness must be amplified when you are lying in bed and the train passes by just outside your window and the engineer blows the horn.

Maybe we will sell our house and move into these condos ourselves.

As long as I'm posting pictures from September 17, I might as well post this one, too. I took it immediately after I photographed the man driving by the Railroad Condos on his motorcycle. I liked the moment so much that I was tempted to pull off the bike trail, go a little closer, stop, get off the bike and practice some careful composition - but here's the thing - when you set out to see what kind of photos you can take with a pocket camera while pedaling a bicycle it destroys the whole project if you stop, get off the bike and carefully compose.

You can only do such a project while pedaling a bicycle.

It's kind of like being a quick-draw artist on horseback as opposed to a sharp-shooter lying prone on your belly with your rifle braced on a tripod.

So I photographed the motorcycle and the condos and then, still pedaling, swung my camera 180 degrees and photographed this scene, too.

Just like Clint Eastwood, swinging his Colts from atop the back of his mule.

And just ahead was this guy. It was the first time I ever saw a person who, instead of a human head, had two dogs growing out of his neck. Can you imagine what life is like for him, when he must walk upright and there is no table for him to support his dogshead on?

I never want to see such a sight again.

This picture was really hard for me to take, but I took it.

And here's a shot I took from my bicycle today. As you can see, the leaves are pretty much down now. As I noted yesterday, by this time last year the snow had set in for good.

But it was warm today. Really warm. The temperature rose into the 50's. Maybe it was a record. It felt like it. I was sweltering. All day long I sweltered. It made me wonder if it will ever snow again.

*I'm still officially in cocoon mode: it's just that I'm feeling really lazy and burned out tonight.

A memorial to a mother, fetus and teenage girl killed by a drunk driver is destroyed*

Today I found this little angel reaching out with a flower from the tumble of stones that remain of what very recently was a memorial to a mother and a baby who died in a car crash at this place.

I did not touch the angel, I did not move it. This is exactly how I found it.

This is what the memorial looked like on May 6, 2005. Until I pedaled my bike up to it today, I had never before stopped here. I had taken a few pictures as I zipped by in the car and from my bike as well, but I never stopped. 

Other than that two lives were lost, I have no knowledge of what happened here. I do not recall reading about it in the paper, seeing the story on TV or hearing it on the radio. Perhaps someone who reads this will know and will fill me in. (Three lives, it turns out. Update at bottom.)

All I know is that one day, well before I took this picture, the white cross appeared. I wondered why. A lady who is now dead and who I would often see in her yard and who seemed to know about everything that ever happened anywhere near this neighborhood told me that a young mother and her baby had been killed when she crashed her car here. She thought it was a single-car crash, that she had just gone off the end of Church Road, across Shrock and into the embankment.

This might be correct, it might not be. I did some googling today, but I could not find the answer.

Later, the brown cross, decorated with the engraved bear, appeared.

Throughout the years, the memorial always seemed to be well-cared for.

It was the work of an ever-loving and forever-pained heart.

Only a very different kind of heart could vandalize it.

I chose this photo because it was the only one that my search engine found when I typed in the word, "cross."

One day very recently, as I passed by, I noticed that the white cross had been split and knocked down. It looked to me to be the work of vandals. I do not know for certain. It is possible that another car lost control here and drove over the cross and damaged it.

Perhaps someone driving a four-wheeler off the side of the road too fast after dark did not see it and ran over it.

I do not know.

But it looked like the work of vandals.

I had intended to take a photograph of the damaged cross, but I never did.

And now both crosses are gone.

If you look closely at the upper-left hand corner of the rock pile, you can see the little angel, lying at the junction of three rocks and a leaf.

And if you look to the right, you can barely make out some wilted flowers, and some plastic flowers.

These are the plastic flowers.

Not far from the destroyed memorial, I rode my bike through a blanket of downed leaves as fast as I could without losing control while reaching as far forward with my pocket camera as my arm would extend so that I could photograph the action.

It was hard, but I did it. How about that, Charlie? (Explanation in Wednesday's comments).

Later in the afternoon, as I was returning home from my coffee break, I saw this lady checking the mail. As you can see, the leaves are just about all down now.

Last year, by this day, the snow had set in for the season.

I am still in cocoon mode, but I have gone maybe 15 minutes over my time limit.

I wanted to keep my title short, anyway.

*Update, 8:42 AM: I originally posted this under the title:

A memorial to a deceased mother and baby is destroyed

Mark Dent, editor of the Alaska Newsreader at the Anchorage Daily News, read the post and sent me this ADN clipping from October 9, 1999 - ten years ago today - with an account of the fatal accident:

By S.J. Komarnitsky

Daily News Mat-Su Bureau 

Day:   Saturday 

Page:   E1 

Print Run Date:   10/9/1999 

Dateline:   Palmer -- 

Text:   A Wasilla man with a history of alcohol abuse and driving

illegally was charged with two counts of murder Friday in connection

with an August accident in which a teenager and pregnant woman were

killed.

John F. Magee, 37, was arraigned in Superior Court in Palmer on two

counts of second-degree murder, one count of first-degree assault and

driving while intoxicated. He may also face additional charges in

connection with the death of the fetus, prosecutors said. The woman was

eight months pregnant.

According to court documents, Magee was drunk and apparently driving

with broken windshield wipers in the rain in the early morning hours of

Aug. 15 when he ran a stop sign and crashed into a Subaru driven by

Laura Boles, 20, of Wasilla, at the intersection of Shrock and Church

roads. Boles was headed west on Shrock when she was hit by Magee, who

was headed north on Church, troopers said.

TX: The impact shoved both cars more than 60 feet off the road.

Killed were Boles, the fetus she was carrying, and a passenger, Mary A.

Williquette, 16, of Wasilla. A third passenger in Boles' car - Jacob

Buswell, 18, also of Wasilla - suffered severe injuries. Magee was also

injured.

According to court documents, Magee told troopers he had been drinking

at the Wasilla Bar, and the last thing he remembered was seeing a

stoplight near the Safeway grocery store in Wasilla, several miles from

the accident scene.

He registered a blood-alcohol level of 0.138 three hours after the

crash, according to court documents.

Ira See, an acquaintance who told troopers he was at the bar with Magee,

said the car Magee was driving did not have working windshield wipers

because the wiring had burned out, according to the court papers.

And while troopers said Magee had a valid driver's license when the

collision occurred, that has rarely been the case in recent years.

Over the past decade, Magee has been convicted at least six times for

driving without a license or driving while his license was revoked or

suspended. He also has been convicted of assault, criminal mischief, and

misconduct involving a controlled substance.

In 1980, he was convicted of driving while intoxicated and in 1988, he

was convicted of reckless driving.

Thank you, Mark.