Point Hope: coming home from whale camp

Just to make it clear that this blog is still alive, i am posting just one picture today. And to make it easy to pick that picture on a laptop computer with a malfunctioning screen, I decided that I would choose the very last picture that I have taken so far today.

That was this one, shot about 2:00 AM this morning as we pulled back from the ice, intending to spend three hours in the village and then to head back out.

So I set my iPhone alarm for 4:50 AM as I went to bed at 2:50 AM, then slept very little because I did not want to somehow sleep past the appointed time and miss my ride back to the ice.

As hard as it was, I got up and headed to the house of whaling captain Rex Rock, Sr, where, at 5:00 AM, it was very quiet and no one was stirring. People started moving around about 10: AM and it was then that I learned that the sea had gotten rough and so we would be staying on land for awhile.

I ate a good breakfast with the Rocks, then returned here to the home of Jessie Frankson and Krystle Ahmaogak and their three young boys, Jessie Jr, Kuunnan and Jonathan, napped for a couple of hours, got up and ate another breakfast.

Thanks in large part to the heavy overcast, it still got close to being dark in the wee hours of this morning, but soon the sun will be in the sky 24 hours a day and there will be no more darkness at all.

In Barrow, the final, very brief sunset is May 10. I am not certain what day here - a day or two or three after that, I would guess.

Looking back at Point Hope from across the ice

Here I am in Point Hope, out on the sea ice at the edge of the lead in which swim bowheads, belugas, seals, polar bears and other animals, looking back at the village. I came here to take some pictures at an event in town but it should surprise no one to discover that I wound up on the ice with the whalers, anyway.

That event is now over and I plan to go back out shortly. Three bowheads have been landed thus far here.

As for this blog, it is just too hard to keep out here right now - in part because I have not yet been able to replace my laptop screen and while ghosts and lines do move erriely across my screen, I am almost working blind and I cannot do a good picture edit.

When I type, the word vanish, fall on top of themselves, shift positions and I cannot be certain what I am typing.

Then, Squarespace, the blog host that I use to make this journal is, under perfect circumsstances, a clunky and troublesome program. Comgine it with a slow connection and its problems multiply and cascade one into another.

Because I am can not really see the pictures that I am working with and could not stand the thought of trying to picture edit, I grabbed this one at random. I was able to make out that it was sea ice and it appeared that i might be sharp - but beyond that, it just aggravates my eyes to look at it,

Then, sure enough, when I went to upload it, Squarespace malfunctioned. That malfunction led to cascading malfunctions and it took me.... 45 minutes... yes... 45 minutes... to upload this single photograph!

So I fear I will not be doing much blogging while I am here.

Okay - I can't deal with this anymore. This screen is driving me nuts.  I am going to post and hope for the best.

Dog flies from Nuiqsut to Barrow; Shoshana the young writer who is not to be taken for granted and other unnamed Metro studies; lady drives off the road on Lucas

Late last night, or rather early this morning as I was bringing my work day to an end, this picture showed up on the final frames that scrolled into my editor. It is a dog, and the person owned by the dog and the dog is in an airplane that is flying from Nuiqsut to Barrow.

I have not been to Nuiqsut lately but even so, I pretty much spent all of yesterday there and on nearby Cross Island - at least in my mind and on my computer screen, as I tried to figure out how to narrow down and shape up the Nuiqsut/Cross Island portion of the big project that I am working on.

The effort left me very frustrated for a couple of reasons. For one, I have 116 pages for this project and I must divide those pages up somewhere between 20 and 30 topics, involving pictures that include hundreds of people.

Yet, I could use the entire 116 pages on Nuiqsut/Cross Island - and I would still feel that I had fallen short.

And, when I work on the other topics, I feel the same about them.

So that is one frustration.

The other is that, to finish this project and the others that appear to be following close on its tail, I would do well to just sit this blog aside for a few months and put my entire focus there.

But I really don't want to set this blog aside.

So, when I came to this picture of this dog in the airplane flying from Nuiqsut to Barrow, I thought, "I will put this dog in the blog and it will be the only picture that I blog tomorrow. If I blog but one picture a day, I will at least keep the blog alive and it won't take much time at all."

So that is what I decided to do: to blog the dog today and nothing else.

When I got out of this plane back in September, I knew the name of the dog and of the person that it owns.

I no longer know their names. As I recall, they were headed south. Far south, like somewhere in the southern states.

I could be wrong, but that's how I hazily remember it.

So I have now blogged the dog. I am done blogging for the day. It didn't take long.

WAIT A MINUTE! I must include the above study!

Yesterday, after I pedaled my bike to Metro Cafe, Shoshana went to her car and brought in this story to give to me. She does this every now and then and then I take the stories home and read them and they are always good. 

This one was titled, Taken for granted.

These are the first three lines, which I asked her permission to include:

My life has always been anything but normal. It is unique to the point of questionable. I have often said that if my life were a movie, well, there is no doubt that it would be a drama. But not just a drama, it would be a drama/thriller/comedy; but mostly a drama nonetheless.

So I shot this young writer study, and having shot it, I decided I wanted to use it even though I was only going to blog the dog today. So here it is:

Study of the young writer, Shoshana, #6589: Shoshana, who is not to be taken for granted, with her story, Taken for granted.

Well, Hell. I also shot a couple of nameless studies while at Metro. I figure I might as well add them in as well. It won't take that much extra time. So, here is the first:

Metro Cafe nameless study, #99: Guy working at computer who told me his name and I was sure that this time I would remember so I did not write it down but I have forgotten.

Metro Cafe nameless study, #990: Carmen causes customer at drive-through window to laugh and she laughs, too. He told me his name and I was certain that I would remember so I did not write it down, but I have forgotten.

Metro Cafe nameless study, #1099: Actually, I did not forget his name. It is "Nike." I might have forgotten, but he kindly wrote it down on the back of his jacket before I took the picture so that I would not forget. Nike was born in Japan, wears cowboy boots and rides a black horse.

And then this morning, as I was driving home from breakfast at Mat-Su Valley Family Restaurant uphill on Lucas Street, I saw this car stuck off to the side of the road, a lady sitting behind the wheel.

Thus I was presented with a moral dilemma - to stop or continue. Once, there would have been no question. I would have stopped. But things are different now. Everybody has cell phones. If you were to look at a larger version of this image - such as you can find in slide show view, depending on the size of your monitor - you will clearly see the reflection of flares burning at the side of the road.

There were no signs that the lady was in distress. It appeared that she had set the flares, had undoubtedly called someone and was now sitting calmly behind the wheel waiting for the help she had summoned to arrive.

If I were to stop, there would be nothing I could do but ask if she was okay. I am not equipped to pull her out and with my artificial shoulder I cannot physically push anybody. She would answer, yes, she was just waiting for someone to come and pick her up.

So, knowing that is how it would play out, I drove past without stopping.

I am quite certain that I analyzed the situation correctly, but I am still a little uncomfortable about it. Now, I wish I had stopped. I don't think that it would have made one bit of difference in this world but still, I wish I had stopped.

And I have spent too much time on today's blog. I can't afford this. Yes, I will still put in a full day's work on my project, but if I am ever to get it done, from here forward I really need to put in two day's worth of work each day until it is finished - except, of course, for the week that I will spend in Arizona.

I plan not to work on it at all when I am in Arizona, May 11 - 19.

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iPhone shadow portrait of Margie and I approaching the movie theatre; Kalib and cousin Gracie, cooking eggs down in the Navajo Nation

Sometimes, no matter what one is working on, the soul begins to feel overwhelmed and kind of dead from hours and hours and days and days and weeks and weeks and months and months and years and years of time spent sitting where I sit right now, peering into a computer screen.

It happened last night. My soul became overwhelmed to the point that I simply could do it no longer.

The only thing that I could think of was to go to a movie. But I did not want to drive to Anchorage, the new theatre they are building in Wasilla looks complete but is not yet open, the older theatre here is tiny and sticky and awful and one can get proselyted there and it is no place to go for an enjoyable evening of relaxation.

I checked online to see what was playing in Eagle River, but the indication was that the Eagle River threatre was closed for some reason.

So I did not know what to do. I just did not want to drive all the way to Anchorage, where we still have another free movie coming at Century 16 - thanks to Melanie.

But then Margie argued that we could just drive to the very edge of Anchorage - the close edge - where stands the new Tikahtnu Stadium 16 theatres and pay for the movie ourselves. We would not really have to drive into Anchorage at all. It is not that hard of a trip just to drive to the edge of Anchorage if you do not then venture in to the wild and wooly city.

So that is what we did. Without even checking to see what was playing and at what time, we just got in the car and drove. We left Wasilla about 7:20 PM and arrived at the theatre about 8:00 PM - right between the main showing times.

So we bought tickets for the 9:15 pm showing of Lincoln Lawyer, and then went walking into the nearby new mall, which neither of us had explored, found a place called PHO Saigon, and went in. We ordered an appetizer of 3 spring rolls and one noodle plate, which we shared between us.

I didn't take any pictures, because I had left my camera hidden in the car, but the food...

I'm going back!

Really good.

Then, a few minutes before nine, as we walked back to the theatre and on the wall I saw us, just like this.

And me, without my camera! Then I remembered that my iPhone has a perfectly decent little camera and so I did the self-portrait.

We enjoyed the movie, too. We ate too much popcorn - especially after PHO Saigon.

This morning, I was awakened to the sound of text messages coming into my iPhone. Lavina was sending me pictures and a movie from Shonto, Arizona, in the Navajo Nation of Kalib teaching cousin Gracie how to break and cook eggs.

So here they are, and I am pretty sure that is Elias looking on.

I then got out of bed and came into the kitchen wanting eggs, but Margie already had steel-cut oatmeal cooking and it was just about done.

So I ate it and it was good.

I still have a hankering for eggs. Maybe for lunch.

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Branson, Metro Cafe's 38 pound hockey player, knows how to score and celebrate; cat and baby at the door

Not long before I headed off on one of my Arctic Slope trips last fall, I promised Carmen that I would take some pictures of Branson, her five-year old son, doing some hockey stuff. Well, you know what happens to time. His regular season ended and now he is attending a hocky camp at the Mernard Sports Center.

He had sessions schedule for Saturday and Sunday afternoons and then one more on Wednesday. I was pretty sure I would not be able to make the Sunday session, couldn't say about Wednesday and so I decided that I had better go Saturday. I arrived with a little more than one-half hour of the session left.

Here he is: Branson, the 38-pound, five-year old, hockey player.

Branson was, in fact, the smallest person on the ice. And he was competing against some older and bigger boys - six and seven year olds who have been playing for years.

But you can see - Branson was skating hard.

Branson and competitor go after puck.

Who will get it?

They are fighting hard, now.

Now they are in front of the goal, Branson on offense, his competitor on defense determined to stop him.

Branson belts the puck past the defender.

The defender knocks Branson to the ice, but it doesn't matter: the puck he slammed is shooting right between the feet of the goalie and into the net.

Branson skates away from his successful goal shot in celebration.

Pretty soon, he does it again... and then again after that. 

He raises his puck in victory, but now he is also searching the bleachers for a familiar face. Could it be Mom? Is she there? Will he find her? Did she notice?

She is there and he does find her and she did notice.

After the scrimmage ends an adult skates by. "Congratulations on your goal," he tells Branson.

Branson, the hockey player.

Branson with his friends, Colin and Caroline. They do not play hockey. They play soccer ("football" to all my relatives and friends in India and the rest of the world).

Carmen is pretty proud. 

After I returned home, I came here into my office and went to work. I had not been working long before I heard a knock on the door.

Puzzled, I got up and opened it. Who do you think I saw standing on the other side?

It was Jim, my good black cat. "C'mon on in, Jim!" I invited. He entered and soon walked across my keyboard as I was typing.

Then I heard another knock. Again I got up and opened the door.

This time it was Jobe, who had just driven his mother and older brother out from Anchorage.

Jobe came in. Jim decided it was time to leave, jumped off my keyboard and walked to the door.

And this from India:

Feral street dog at Ooty tea farm.

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