I have created my own Arctic winter day of night, right here in Wasilla; the new Uiñiq - front cover

I think I must be homesick for Barrow and the Arctic Slope, for those long nights that extend all the way through the day with no sun ever rising; those all-day nights during which, if one wants, one can slip into the comfort of a warm cacoon of darkness, hidden and protected there from the glare of world.

I think I must be homesick for this because, to the degree that is possible, I have converted Wasilla into a place where the winter sun never rises. Actually, it does, for just a few hours, but I go to sleep before those hours begin and wake up after they have passed.

So I do not see the sun. It is as if it never rose at all.

Today, I arose at 3:38 PM, pretty much right at the moment of sundown. It was time to head out for my regular afternoon coffee break, even though I had begun no task that I needed to take a break from, and to head to the drive-through of Metro Cafe, which is exactly what I did. I took this picture along the way. Admittedly, this is not a very good picture - I missed the good picture by a few seconds. It happened while I was too far back to get it, although I could have if I had had a bigger lens on the camera.

In the good picture, the one that I missed, the school bus had stopped and all of a sudden a whole passel of kids shot out and in a line sprinted through this little patch of light.

Oh, did it look neat!

By the time I got close enough to take that excellent shot, it was gone. A straggler got off and headed through the light, so I took this picture, so that I could tell you all about the one I had missed.

A couple of hours later, Margie was about to fix dinner. For some strange reason, I felt very hungry and decided that this a night to go out for steak - something we do maybe once every couple of years or so.

So we did, and here were are, at Denali Family Restaurant, where we had never tried dinner before. Margie had a chicken fried steak. They had a special that covered their New York steaks - $3.00 off but still pretty darned expensive, so I ordered one. The baked potato was very good, the roll was delicious - tasted like it might have been fresh out of the oven - and the once frozen half-ear of corn on the cob tasted the way corn on the cobs that have been frozen tend to taste.

The New York steak - it was okay. Not great, but okay and being okay it still tasted good. One would not call it "superb," "exquisite," "mouth watering" or anything like that. It was okay. Good enough.

Afterward, our waitress asked us if we wanted dessert, but we declined and went home, where I scooped up some Rocky Road out of the carton and made myself an ice cream cone.

I am happy to report that my shingles are diminishing. They are still there, but to a much lighter and more bearable degree than just two days ago. Maybe by this time next week, they will be gone altogether. My need for copious amounts of sleep still remains, however. 

Now I need to see if I can a little work done, so that I can finish up today's tasks in time to go to bed before the sun rises.

And here is the cover of my latest Uiñiq:

This is whaling captain Billy Oyagak of Nuiqsut, standing in the middle with members of his crew on Cross Island, balleen from their whale behind them. Other successful captains and crews that fall season of 2010 were Herbert Ipalook, Thomas Napageak and Edward Nukapigak, who hosted me.

That season happened very fast. The crews left Nuiqsut almost at the very end of August and arrived at Cross Island to find the weather perfect and whales passing by in good numbers. I could not come until September 2. Originally, I thought they might possibly have landed a whale or two by then, but that there would still be at least two, maybe three strikes left for me to follow.

As it happened they had landed all four before I even got there. They were still cutting and putting up the whales, and there were polar bears wandering about. I had a good time, took lots of pictures, but still fell far short of what I had hoped to do.

So I want to go back, get in a boat at Nuiqsut and ride out to Cross Island with them. Stay for a month, come back at Naluktak and a few other times, too. I had hoped to go back this year, but irony of ironies, I could not because I was working on getting this Uiñiq done. Nuiqsut/Cross Island was the first story that I laid out and originally I laid it out huge - my first layout filled up almost the entire 120 page magazine. But then, as I worked other storeis in, I had to keep cutting it back and cutting it back and so in the end it wound up at 17 pages.

That still left it as the largest single spread in the magazine, but 17 pages wasn't enough to even begin to do Cross Island-Nuiqsut justice. I couldn't even leave my polar bear shots in, and I had a couple of magnificent polar bear shots and a fun story based on polar bears coming into and passing by camp. Elsewhere in the magazine, I had a double-truck polar bear shot I took on the sea ice off Barrow, and that took up all the space I could afford to give to polar bears in this Uiñiq.

So I hope to go back and somehow find the way to produce either a Uiñiq or a Uiñiq sized or bigger publication wholly on Cross Island and Nuiqsut. In fact, I would like to do that with every village on the Slope - and some off the Slope, too, like Fort Yukon and Arctic Village.

But how do I all this? The decades are flying by. I still think of myself as a young man, fit and strong enough to do anything, but in fact I am on the verge of becoming old - and this bout with shingles that I have just about but not quite won is kind of a telling sign. And this work is not easy to do. It is hard - both in the field and back home, when it becomes necessary to put in 20 hours, 24 hour, 30 hour and even 40 hour days to ever get it done.

I do not wish to listen to this sign the shingles have given me. Yet, if I don't, and just keep living in the manner that I have so far lived, I might just get taken down and not get anymore done at all.

And there was a great deal of material that I gathered from all over that I did not manage to get in at all. I don't why, after all this time, but when I set out to make a 116 page publication (which is what it was budgeted for but I pushed it up to 120 at my own expense) I think that gives me enough space to cover the whole world.

So I shoot this, and I shoot that; I go here, I go there, I interview this person and that person and all the time I am thinking I can work it all in and then when it comes down to it, I can only work a fraction of it in.

That's one of the reason I plan to create on online magazine. I could work it all into an online magazine. I remain at a bit of a loss on how to go about it. I have a colleague who is expert at online publishing and he says he will help me set it up. He's booked solid until January. Once he helps me set the format I want, then how do I fund it?

It ain't cheap to travel around Alaska, you know.

Still, we will see what happens then.

For sure, I need a new airplane. I don't merely want one, I need one. It seems impossible right now, but I know it's not.

Well, I've been rambling, writing more words than most visitors will ever read. Guess I'll stop now.

I've got some things I must do and I had better get at it if I want to get to bed before sunrise.

Deprived of sleep, I dream of women and Mormons; ham and eggs, toast and coffee

Thirty-one hours and 53 minutes after I got up, I went back to bed and took my iPhone with me. I had gotten everything done that I needed to in that time.

Couldn't go to sleep, though. Damn. It's like my body forgot how to sleep.

Sure do want to sleep. Sooner or later.

I think of all the sleep I have missed these past few months.

How can a person do this again and again and again?

Hell. I've been doing it for 35 years.

I gave up a bit after 3:00 PM, went out and laid down on the couch. Margie had the TV on, alternating between news channels - MSNBC, CNN, Fox.

I laid there for four hours, slipping in and out of strange dreams as pundits pundited and people vying to lead this nation demonstrated why our government has been stalled into nonsense, stupidity and ineptitude, why people are staging more and more occupations, and caused me to fear for the future of this nation that I once thought was better than this.

Then I got up, ate some mac and cheese and I'm still up. Been coming in and out of my office. Keep sitting down at my computer, trying to get some work done, but nothing happens. I go out and sit on the couch with Margie who has been watching various tv shows, all of which involve murder, mystery, crime solving and beautiful, mysterious women who make you want them but of course you cannot have them.

I watch a few minutes, get bored, then come back in here and fail to accomplish anything.

But I can always place a picture or two from the day on this blog, write a few words of nonsense.

So that is what I have just done.

I think I will go to bed now. See if I can get some sleep. 

Don't feel like I will be able to. Maybe if I lie there long enough, I will.

It is 10:47 PM now. I would tell you how long it has been since I first got up yesterday morning, but I can't do the math anymore.

I already put up a post today, so I will wait and post this tomorrow, see what happens overnight.

Overnight. I laid in bed, feeling like I would never sleep. Outside, the wind howled and tore. Jim settled down on my shoulder. He felt warm, comfy, but still I lay awake. Another cat settled at my ankles - I wasn't sure which one. Margie said she would come to bed at midnight but I was never aware of her doing so, so I guess I did go to sleep.

I awoke at just about 3:30 AM. I had imagined that I would get up about six when Mat-Su Family Restaurant opens and go there and order breakfast, but that was two-and-half hours away. So I stayed put, hoping I might go back to sleep. And I did - the in and out kind of sleep, punctuated by vivid dreams - and there were beautiful women in all of them.

Between punctuations, I would wake and check the time... 3:42.... 3:59... 4:12... 4:37...

Then I awoke and it was 5:54. If I could pop right up and head to Family Restaurant, I would be virtually assured of getting my favorite table... the one wedged in the corner between the window and the wall that separates the main dining area from the large, over-flow, one behind. The table where I can sit with my back to the wall so no one can shoot me in the back, the table from where I can sit and observe all the people that go in and out, from where I can watch their reflections play upon the night-blackened window and if the train passes by, that is a good seat from which to watch it.

But I didn't pop up. I dozed back off, fell back into a dream. Once again, there was a beautiful woman.

She wore a white blouse and a black skirt, which stopped at the top of her knees and her legs looked pretty good. Her hair was long, thick and black. She appeared to be about 25. She had come to the train station, which was in Iowa, to pick me up - along with the platoon of other brand, new, Mormon missionaries who had come in on the train with me. 

What the hell was I doing there? I had done this once before, decades ago, and once was enough. But, lacking the necessary conviction, I had none-the-less committed and so had to follow through.

The woman led us to a car and we got in. She was a new convert to the Mormon church and expressed firm and total faith and dedication to her new creed. She looked at me skeptically. Perhaps it was because of my age. All the other new missionaries were, like... 19, 20... perhaps it was because she sensed that I felt lust toward her, even though I knew that lust to be futile, just as it is 99.999999... percent of the time.

This is true all the time for all men, straight or gay - even those who deny it - be they monagamous or promiscuous. It doesn't matter. The Creator built this desire into men and it is always there and then we are told that God will condem us for it, even those who hold it only in their heart and remain faithful to one partner.

The beautiful woman drove us across farmland, freshly plowed. There were no mountains to be seen, there was no wilderness, the whole country was fenced and farmed and I did not want to be there. I thought about Margie, my children, my grandchildren - baby Lynxton. I would not see them for two years.

What the hell had ever gotten into me that I had agreed to do this?

Except to attend to funerals of loved ones, I hadn't been in a Mormon church in 30 years and now I was committed to a two-year mission?

The beautiful woman drove us to a church in the middle of a field. It was brick, with a tall steeple, no cross on top. She led us inside. Many people were gathered there, all Mormons, Iowa Mormons, but it looked just like Utah. The men all wore white shirts and ties, all had short, neat, hair and all were engaged in serious and earnest discussions.

I awoke again. It was 6:52.

Then a very curious thing happened. Jim, who was now lying beside me, suddenly rose into a sitting position, leaned back onto his haunches, lifted his paws into the air in front of him and sat up very straight, so that in profile he reminded me of a kangaroo. He had an intense glint in his eyes, the earnestness of which was magnified in his stiff, but spring-laden, posture. He stared intently at the south window - the same window that you see in the top frame, but now it was black beyond, because it is the darkening time of year.

Then I noticed the other two cats, Pistol-Yero and Chicago, also sitting up in very alert positions on the bed, intently staring at whatever Jim was staring at. I listened carefully, to see if I might hear a moose, or a vandal, but all I could hear was the wind and it was howling, tearing, destroying the very light snow cover that we had.

Then, in unison, all three cats began to slowly rotate their heads to the left, as though they were watching something move around the bed and into the wall. I listened as intently as I could, but, other than the wind, detected nothing. Soon, they were all looking toward the east window, the east wall.

I was fully awake now. I auto-started the car, waited until the cats settled back down and then got up. I dressed and then went out and got into the car, which was still warming up. The wind had indeed destroyed the snow cover. The ground was pretty much bare. The temperature was a warm 28 (about -2 C) and the lady on the radio said the winds were hitting 65 in some places. She said it would cool off toward evening and we could expect temperatures of about 10 (-12 C).

Still, in years past, it had not been uncommon to send the kids trick-or- treating in sub zero (sub -18 C) weather and Wasilla's lakes remain unfrozen, whereas, until recent years, they would generally freeze up in mid-October.

I drove to Family Restaurant. My corner table was waiting for me. I sat down and ordered, feeling very glad that I was here and not in Iowa, where I have never been. The ham was good, the eggs were good and so were the hash browns - not as good as Abby's, but Abby doesn't open until nine. I had Connie hold my mult-grain toast for desert, then lightly coated it with strawberry jam and washed it down with my third coffee refill.

Now, another big task awaits me and once I post this, I will get to it. I must complete it before I go to bed again. No matter how long it takes, I cannot stop until it is done. It could also take 30 hours, but I don't think so. I think I can complete it in 20.

Twenty hours. Not bad. Not bad at all.

It's going to be a good day.

Chicken and chicks at Abby's Home Cooking - all elements of this post made possible by Steve Jobs

I got up this morning, stepped outside and found that everything was frozen. I always go out for breakfast the morning after I return from a trip, so I warmed up the car, buckled Jobe into his car seat, got Margie and then jumped in to drive off to Abby's Home Cooking, but the windshield had iced-over, so I had to clean it off.

I kind of forgot about that kind of thing while I was in New York, sweltering most of the time.

I did not take my camera to Abby's, but decided that I would rely solely on my iPhone, so that is what I used to photograph this chicken and chicks that sit in a window at Abby's.

iPhone - one of Steve Job's gifts to the world. Of course, I put this post together on a Macintosh. Rather than drag Margie out here into my office to show her the post on my computer, I will show it to her on my iPad.

This Steve Jobs guy - he totally remade my life.

I'm going to miss him.

A duck swam into a moon beam - and other stunning stories from yesterday

I made a big mistake - I promised to bring this blog off hiatus on September 15, today, which is exactly what I am doing. But I should have set the date for September 20. That would have been much better for me.

But I didn't.

I set it for September 15, it is September 15, so here I am, early yesterday morning, where the lone waitress working at Denali Family Restaurant was pouring me a cup of coffee.

She did not want me to show her face, only her hand.

"I never like to have my face in a photograph," she explained.

I don't know why. She had a pretty face. She also knows how to sling two coffee pots at once.

Pretty impressive!

I would have gone to Abby's Home Cooking, which has become my favorite breakfast restaurant, but Abby's does not open until 8:00 AM and I was hungry and did not want to wait that long.

I asked for this table, just so I could sit there and look out at these mountains and watch this guy get out of his truck.

I saw myself, in shadow, sitting with an alien from another galaxy. So I shot a picture of the two of us. That alien really likes ketchup. He drank the whole bottle and then asked for more.

When I got home, I found Margie, Jobe and Kalib watching Chuggington Choo Choo. They had all been asleep when I left.

I had a huge amount of work ahead of me, but I couldn't bear to get into it without taking a walk. As I walked up Wards, a garbage truck passed me and then made a left turn.

I wondered if I would ever see that garbage truck again.

Next, a couple of young men appeared at the top of the hill, their feet on their skateboards, their skateboards on the road. It looked like they were going to roll, but then they picked up their skateboards and just stood there, looking down at me. They appeared not to know what to do next.

"Are you guys going to skate down the hill?" I shouted up to them.

"Yes," one of them shouted back.

"Good!" I shouted back. "That will make a good picture."

So they put their boards back down on the road and their feet back on the skateboards. Down they came.

And off into the distance they went.

When I reached the top of the hill, this gentleman came walking along, just as I did see the garbage truck again. It was Tony, Lola and Wolf. I can't remember which dog was Lola and which was Wolf.

Neither one of them looked a wolf to me.

They were good dogs, though, and I was proud to make their acquaintance.

When I got back to the house, I found Jobe and Kalib in the back yard, being boys.

Their new sibling could arrive any day now. The official due date is October 6, but that baby has already gotten into position, head down, ready to plunge into the world.

And the poor mother has strep throat.

That is why the boys are with us.

Kalib, the eldest of three.

A few hours later, I took my afternoon coffee break. I discovered that the dog, Booger, had been lost. Booger is the close friend of Lisa Kelly, the Ice Road Trucker. Her husband brought the poster.

I hope Booger is found.

The Ice Road Trucker needs her friend.

I then took a short drive to sip and enjoy my coffee. I drove past the Wasilla skateboard park just as a kid went almost horizontal on the ramp.

I was trying to write what will be the final story in what might be my final Uiñiq magazine, but I could not come up with the words to open it. So I took another short walk, saw this bunny rabbit, and pretty soon the lead came to me. 

After I got the lead, I came upon these three in the marsh that has dried out and become a meadow. It was Summer and her buddies, Sampson and Anonymous Dog. Summer has another name that she uses for Anonymous Dog, but I don't know what it is.

I then went into my house, wrote the lead and got to work on the story.

That final story would be very short, but it was taking me a long time to write it. At one point, I realized that I would never finish it if I did not eat a chocolate covered ice cream cone. So I climbed into the car and drove off to get one, but I got to day dreaming and passed right by Dairy Queen. I turned around by Wasilla Lake and noticed the moon. I stopped and took this picture.

Then I saw this duck swim into a moon beam.

"Hey Bill!" the duck quacked. "Is that you?"

"Yes, Fernanda," I quacked back. "It is me! It's been a long time!"

"It has... 1021 years."

It was true. Fernanda and I had not seen each other for over 1000 years.

"How's your report coming?" she asked.

I knew it. She had been sent to check up on me.

"I'm struggling with it," I answered. "But don't worry. You can tell the other ducks that I'll get it done."

I will, too, but in the meantime, I have a Uiñiq magazine to finish.

That final story is now written, but there is still a significant amount of work that must be completed before I go to press Monday.

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We celebrate my birthday in Anchorage to the taste of Arctic char from Kaktovik

On the evening of my birthday, I drove into Anchorage where most of the rest of my family already was. Margie had been staying with Jacob and Lavina since the day that I left for Kaktovik, as Jobe had been a little under the weather and she needed to take care of him while Lavina worked.

Soon after I arrived, Lavina threw a few of the Arctic char that I had brought back from Kaktovik onto the grill.

These particular char were given to me by Marie Rexford. Elizabeth Rexford also gave me a generous number from the cache of she and husband Fenton.

Oh, boy, was it tasty! Char is one of my favorite fish - right up there with salmon, halibut and trout.

Thank you, Marie, Fenton and Elizabeth - your generosity made my birthday extra special.

I will still try to work a few char fishing pictures in here, maybe tomorrow, maybe Sunday, maybe Monday.

I am told that Kalib still wields the spatula - usually on a weekend morning when he is cooking eggs, but I have not personally seen him carry the spatula for awhile.

It had been rainy and cool when I drove out of Wasilla, but when I got out of the car at Jacob and Lavina's house, the sun shone brightly upon me and I was surprised by how hot it felt - just like I remember from the southern Arizona desert.

Well, maybe not quite that hot.

We ate on the table that graces the back deck of Jacob and Lavina's house. When I sit here, I am always amazed at the typical American suburban environs my son and daughter-in-law have planted themselves in and how comfortable they seem within.

After dinner, a few of us sat in the living room and talked while others readied something out in the kitchen that I was not supposed to see just yet.

It was Lisa whose stories dominated the conversation, and they were mostly about the dogs that she had been caring for while their owners were away. One day, she came to the house to find that one of the dogs had pooped on important tax papers. She had to save those papers, and the process involved rubber gloves and drying and sterilizing things and it was not pleasant.

Charlie said the dog had only done what everybody wants to do.

After she told the story, Jacob came out with Jobe. Jobe tackled Jacob.

Look up there, on the wall. It's Jobe's Apache cradleboard, the one made especially for him by one of the most skilled cradleboard makers on the White Mountain Apache Reservation - his Aunt LeeAnn.

Jobe will never sleep in it again.

That makes me kind of sad, yet I so greatly enjoy watching him grow, learn and experience.

Margie came out, pulled the curtains and turned out the lights. Then Melanie entered from the kitchen, followed by Kalib, Margie and Lavina. She carried the object that I had not been allowed to see until now. It was a flaming cake that she had made, just for me.

Count the number of candles and you will see that on my birthday, I turned younger than I had been for five decades.

The little ones watched intently as grandma inhaled a deep breath. Could he do it? Not quite!

So Kalib, the expert candle blower-outer, finished the job.

Once again, I drove home by myself. Jobe was doing quite a bit better, but Lavina's good friend, Sandy, has hit her due date and could go into labor at any minute. She wants Lavina with her when she delivers and Lavina has promised that she will be. 

Jacob had to leave for Kipnuk early in the morning, so Margie stayed to be on hand to care for the little ones should another little one choose the next day to be born.

This is what I saw as I neared Wasilla, just a few minutes before midnight.

Midnight won't look like this for much longer.

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