I drive to the 100th birthday party for Hannah Solomon, a beloved matriarch of the Gwich'in Nation

 

Hannah's daughter, Daisy Solomon, had billed it as "The Party of the Century" and I did not want to miss it. I had thought that I would drive up to Fairbanks the night before, so that I could be there early, but my wife and sons were very concerned, as I am still recovering from my broken shoulder and subsequent replacement surgery.

"What if you have to change a flat?" Margie chided. "What if you get stuck in a snowstorm?" So I relented and bought myself a ticket on Alaska Airlines.  

So why am I driving up the snowy Parks Highway, towards Fairbanks, traffic coming at me?

When I went to bed the night before, secure in the knowledge that I could sleep in and then have Margie drive me to Anchorage so that I could catch my plane, the wind had begun to blow. It picked up in intensity and soon was howling. It blasted against the house and caused it to shake.

It was the kind of wind that you wonder if it will drop a tree on the house, or blast through a window. It was a warm wind, up from the South Pacific. I knew it was melting our snow. It had collided violently with the cold air that had been sitting on us. I could hear raindrops tattering the house, like machine-gun fire.

The power went out, but was on again by the time I got up.

I sat down at my computer and learned that 20 jets had been diverted from Anchorage to Fairbanks and that Ted Stevens International Airport was now shut down, due to 100 mile-per-hour winds, severe turbulence and wind shear.

I did not want to miss the party. "I'm driving to Fairbanks," I told Margie. I got my cameras, warm clothes and a sleeping bag, climbed into the car and hit the road. 

The rain was heavy, blinding. I knew it would soon turn to snow, and it did.

I thought about turning around, but I know the country between here and Fairbanks and usually if you can make it the 100 miles from Trapper Creek through the Honolulu Creek area and then on to Cantwell, conditions will improve and you can make it all the way.

Altogether, it is a 330 mile drive from Wasilla.

It would have helped if we had already taken our summer tires off and put the studded snow-tires on, but we had not done that. In the worst stretches, I had to slow down to less than 25 miles per-hour. Then, when conditions would seem to improve a bit, I would gradually accelerate. 

Always, about the time I hit 40 or a little above, the car would start to fishtail - a couple of times, dramatically enough that I worried that I might go off the road, but I was determined not to and I didn't. As you can see, not everyone was so fortunate.

One who was not so fortunate.

I could see they felt a little silly. If you want to see just how silly, click on the image and blow it up. They needn't have, though. All of us who travel by car in Alaska do this kind of thing from time to time. And don't get the wrong idea. I am not a person who drives by someone in need of help. But they, and all others that I passed this day, had the situation under control.

Nor am I in any position to risk damage to my still weak shoulder. Plus - there was no way around it: the party was scheduled to start at 5:00 PM, Friday, October 10, and I was already going to be late. I drove past, very slowly, hardly more than a creep, but they were fine.

The Igloo hotel. It's been in Alaska for at least as long as I have and in all that time its never been open. Also, they should spell it "Iglu." This is Alaska, not Canada.

Trooper behind me. I have just gone through Cantwell. As you can see, the weather has improved. Now it is time to gather speed, and make up for lost time. The last time I got a ticket, about 25 years ago, the trooper who issued it told me that I could safely go nine miles an hour over the posted speed limit and not get ticketed. Once I hit 10 mph over, he said, they would nail me. 

So I always try to go 9 mph over the speed limit on the highway. But not when there is a trooper behind me. When there is a trooper, I stick right at the posted limit. 

And he stayed behind me for 50 miles or so.

See the name on the sign? Carlo Creek? It will take on added significance at the birthday party, so take note of it, because when the time comes, I will not remind readers of the sign. I will trust readers to remember.

Although I encountered a few more flurries, the roads stayed good the rest of the way to Fairbanks. I arrived at the party at 6:15 PM. So I was late, but I made it.

Next up: Hannah Solomon turns 100

The poodle failed in its chase

 

A poodle chases after its master, a man who had just stopped to ask me how my shoulder was doing. It's doing good, I told him. Lot's better now. Far from 100 percent, but getting there.  

Hint: click on the photo to get a bigger look at it.

The poodle returns toward its home.

The poodle looks back, to see if maybe its master has changed his mind.

The poodle does not see its master. It only sees me.

The poodle gives up and heads back to its house.

The dog that lives at the shop in the first picture where the boat is comes over to stand in front of the campaign signs placed by the master of the poodle.

I leave the dogs behind and find a leaf in a puddle.

I return home and find a dog there, too. You might wonder why I did not take Muzzy on my walk. I cannot handle Muzzy by myself. Maybe, when my shoulder is completely better, I will take Muzzy on a walk with just me.

As you can see, Muzzy is hurt that I left him home. He does not understand about my shoulder.

Target opens in Wasilla / yesterday's snow / three views of the Chugach from the Glenn Highway while driving out of Anchorage

Today, Target opened a store in Wasilla - and another in Anchorage. Being Inside continually becomes more and more like being Outside. The Grand Opening is Sunday. Maybe if I am home, I will go to Target that day, take some photographs, talk to some people, and share in the refreshments. If so, I will make a full report.

Damned exciting stuff!

Yesterday's snow:

Woman crosses Brockton after checking her mail.

Black dog in snow.

Basketball standard on the corner where the chicken crossed the road and the dog tried to kill the bunny.

Two horses in the field that lies next to the shrine where some people go to pray. This is actually from the day before yesterday.

Three views of the Chugach from the Glenn Highway while driving out of Anchorage - from today

View # 1: The car dealership.

View # 2: The gas station.

View # 3: Airplane leaving Merrill Field. 

Baby Kalib's first snow / the death of one of the great whaling captains of Barrow

 

It's not really his first snow, as he was born the day after Christmas, last year, but it would seem to be the first snow that he took conscious note of.

Do you remember feeling this kind of wonder?

And it makes him smile. He's an Alaska boy, all right!

As for Muzzy, when it comes to snow, he's an old paw at it.

Muzzy in the snow.

Kalib observes falling flakes.

He touches his first snowball. 

Martigny. I took other pictures out and about in the snow today, and I intended to put some here, but I think I will wait and share them tomorrow, maybe. This was Kalib's day.

The death of the great whaling captain, Arnold Brower Sr., Barrow

Iñupiat Eskimo Whaling Captain Arnold Brower Sr. was found dead this morning, not far from his camp on a river near Barrow. Apparently, from what little information I have so far, his snowmachine fell through the ice. I am told that he was able to get out, but even so he did not make it.

He was the father of 17 children and I have no idea how many grandchildren, great-grandchildren and great-great-grandchildren. One thing that could almost always be counted on was, come whaling season, his crew, the ABC crew, would bring home a bowhead whale to feed the community.

I took this picture inside his home three summers ago, as he fed me caribou soup. Just by the taste of it, Arnold could tell you where a caribou had been shot and in what season.

His crew will be featured in an upcoming National Geographic TV special, so keep your eye out for it.

Arnold was 85. There is no one more knowledgeable about Arctic survival then was he. I found him to be a kind and generous man; exceptionally observant and intelligent. He served as a paratrooper in World War II and since that time had been at the forefront of anything having to do with Native rights and land claims. He did all that he could to make certain that the development which had to come to the Arctic would be done with protection of land and water, mammal, fish, and bird, and the Iñupiat culture at the forefront.

I am greatly saddened by the news of his death, but find comfort in the fact that he never had to face a nursing home and that, to the very end, he lived his life the way he loved it.

This time, we did breakfast at IHOP

  

Jacob loves IHOP corn pancakes and so it has become a Sunday tradition that we meet there for breakfast. As usual, I stepped out the door to start walking, even though the Wasilla IHOP is over five miles from our house. I saw this new snow embedded in the frost that settled down on Caleb's old car - the car that doesn't run anymore.

The plan was for Jacob and Lavina to come and pick me up after I had walked a couple of miles. Then we would go wait at IHOP for a table. Hopefully, we would have one by the time Margie took her lunch break and came to meet us. This is not Jacob and Lavina in the mini-van. I don't know who it is.

These two kids came walking in the opposite direction. I told them what I was doing and they proved to be very friendly. "Have a nice day," they smiled as they continued on in their direction and I, mine. In one of her bright and witty columns, humorist Maureen Dowd of the New York Times, disparaged Wasilla, for among other things, being a place without sidewalks. She forgot to mention our great bike trails.

 

Her dog died of cancer. After I walked for somewhat less than two miles, I turned around and was surprised to see Jacob and Muzzy, jogging toward me. Shortly afterward, we crossed the street and came upon this woman. She, too, had kept a giant dog, but it had come down with cancer. It grew so miserable and pathetic that she had it have it euthanized. She felt pretty badly about that.

I still feel bad about Willow and that was what, four years ago?

Lavina picked us up in the Tahoe. We had to wait for about five minutes for a table.

Kalib charms people, wherever we go.

Jake was dismayed. "Corn pancakes have been removed from our menu," the waitress told him after he ordered some. Perhaps the tradition will change now.

Breakfast at IHOP in contemporary times.

Muzzy gets his share.

The dog that tried to kill the bunny. Remember the rooster? The one that got shot at the place where the chicken crossed the road? This dog lives there as well, as does a bunny. Last June, shortly after my second surgery, the one where I got the new shoulder, I had barely begun my walk when I saw this dog break into the bunny pen, drag the bunny out, take it across the street and then begin to kill it.

In my condition, I was helpless to rescue the bunny. The children of the dog and bunny's people were bouncing on a trampoline in sight of everything, laughing and having a great time, completely unaware.

"Your dog is killing your rabbit!" I shouted. They did not hear. I shouted again and again and again as I drew closer. Finally, they heard. By the time they rescued the rabbit, it was very still and looked dead, but one of the boys told me later that it had survived and was doing fine.

I step into the house and find Martigny on the couch.

At 4:00 PM, I drive back to Wal-Mart to pick Margie up from work. Lavina is in the car with me. She wants to get coffee.

When we get to Wal-Mart, I am surprised to see Lisa there with Margie. She has driven up from Anchorage. She leaves her car in the parking lot and gets into ours. She wants to get coffee, too.

Tony the baristo. He is new. I have never seen him before. I wish him well, and tell him how to find this blog, so that he can see his picture.

Lisa and Jim. (Lisa wants it to be clear that the face poking out from her shirt is Joe Biden's - not John McCains.)

Our backyard. As dusk settled in, it began to snow.

In the woodstove, birch logs become heat. We used to cut all our own wood, but then I no longer had time for it. Now we buy. Just two winters ago, $100 a cord. Now, $200 - and, I tell you, those cords looked to me to be less than a cord used to be.

I am quite certain of it.

As she watches Desperate Housewives, Lavina gets herself some sherbert. Kalib wants some.

Kalib got some. I wanted some, too. I didn't get any. That bowl was the last of the sherbert.

Jacob tosses Kalib around.