2009 in review - April: begins with moose in the yard; ends on a crazy-hot day on the Arctic ice

April began with a mama and her calf, dining in our backyard.

This is Jim, an amateur weatherman who I sometimes come across while walking. Our winter was drawing to its end. Jim had recorded 57 days below zero at his house, several in the - 30's and a few in the - 40's. Total snowfall had been eight feet.

Wasilla, of course, is in one of Alaska's moderate climate zones.

It discourages and depresses me to walk through Serendipity too often, but occasionally I do. I did this day and Muzzy came with me. I don't know how he manages to store up so much pee, but he marked every single property on his side of the street as his.

When we entered break-up for real, I got my bike out and started to pedal. You can see I still had the brace on my right wrist. I did not yet know it, and would have thought the opposite, but bike riding would prove to be great physical therapy for my wrist and shoulder.

As long as I didn't crash.

Becky, a young neighbor who lives on Seldon, gave Muzzy some love.

I saw this little character in the Post Office parking lot.

This happened on one of those mornings that I had to get out of the house and go get breakfast at Family Restaurant. These two guys had a nice little conversation and I am certain that it was friendly.

This guy stepped onto the side of the road to remind everybody they had to pay their taxes. Thanks to my injury, I had made very little money in 2008 and hardly had to pay any tax at all.

This year, I have made a decent income, but 2008 put me so deep into the hole that it does not feel like it at all. It feels like I am drowning, going under and maybe I am.

It would be okay if it were just me, because I could move into a shack and blog about it, but I hate to take Margie there. She has gone through so much and given up so much just to be with me these past few decades. She deserves much better than that.

It looks like tax time will be hell.

But I have 3.5 months to figure it out, so maybe it will be okay.

Many times in my career, I have brought us to the very brink.

And always, something has come along to save us.

By Easter, the snow had largely left our yard. We hid Easter eggs in the bare parts. Kalib went out and found them. We did not really hide them that good.

Kalib was pleased to discover that he could use guacamole to stick a chip to his face.

As I prepared to go north, Kalib played harpoon the whale. Kalib was the harpooner, Muzzy the whale.

Size ratio just about right.

I was glad to be going north, but it was very hard to leave this guy.

To me, what you are looking at is still a bit unbelievable. I had never imagined that I would see such a thing. The date is April 27, the place, Barrow, Alaska.

Barrow does not look like this on April 27. In Barrow, everything is frozen solid on April 27. On April 27, the temperature is either below zero F, or just a few degrees above. The wind drives a continual flow of snow low over the hardened drifts.

But not this April 27. On this April 27, the snow was melting. The air felt warm. No one living had ever before seen such a thing here, nor was there any record of this having ever happened, prior to this year. No one living who knows this place at all would have believed they ever would see such a thing.

It was causing problems for the whale hunters, making ice conditions dangerous.

I would like to say that this was a complete fluke and that no one will ever see it happen again - and it did finally freeze up again - but, these days, with the summer sea ice receding to unheard of levels, with polar bears and walrus losing the summer ice they need to live on, with animals, fish, and birds that have never been here before coming up from the south, with new species of plants taking root...

Willie Hensley of Kotzebue came to Barrow while I was there and did a reading, slide show and book signing for his autobiography, Fifty Miles From Tomorrow.

I bought a copy, had him sign it and then read it on the jet to India.

It kept me completely absorbed.

What a childhood he had, living the old time Iñupiaq life - and then to go on to fill a lead role in the movement that led to the Alaska Native Land Claims Settlement Act and after that to become a politician, corporate leader and now an author.

This is one of those books that anyone who loves Alaska should read.

Might I also suggest that you read Gift of the Whale, too, if you haven't already?

You don't need to buy it - go find it in a library somewhere.

After several days in Barrow, I bought a ticket to Wainwright, thinking that after I spent a short time there, I would buy another to Point Lay. But I was about to discover that now that only one commuter airline serves the Arctic coast, they don't even let you do that anymore

If you want to fly from Barrow to Wainwright and then on to Point Lay, you have to buy two round trip tickets from Barrow, one to each place. That is kind of taking a trip from San Francisco to Portland and Seattle, only to find you have to buy two separate round trip tickets, one from San Francisco to Portland, and then back to San Francisco and then to Seattle.

And the prices!

If I had done both villages, my trip from Anchorage to Barrow, Wainwright and Point Lay would have cost me more than the round trip I had pending that would take me from Anchorage to Bangalore, India.

HOW RIDICULOUS IS THAT??????

In the photo above, the airplane is landing in Atqasuk, enroute to Wainwright.

For you in the south, please remember, no roads connect the villages of the Arctic to each other.

Whyborn Nungasuk boarded the plane in Atqasuk, headed for Wainwright. For those of you who have read Gift of the Whale, Whyborn is the man who organized the search for Harry Norton. He is one of those people that I am always glad to see.  I thought he must be going to do a little whaling, because Atqasuk is a land-locked village and Whyborn has often whaled in Wainwright.

"You headed to Wainwright to go whaling?" I asked.

"Not whaling," he said, "to talk about Jesus."

That night, they were having the regularly scheduled Wednesday singspiration at the Wainwright Presbyterian Church. I stopped by, to listen the listen to the gospel singing.

At a certain point, Whyborn got up to make a testimony. He told of a recent fall whale hunt that he been on in Barrow. A whale had been taken, and then roped to the boats that would pull it the landing site. Whyborn was in one of those boats, but something went wrong and he was accidently jerked out out of that boat by the rope and into the water.

He went under, and he stayed under long enough to begin to drown, perhaps to drown altogether.

As he drowned, he found himself in a pleasant, warm, place. "There were beautiful flowers, and beautiful butterflies, flying," he said. "Jesus was there."

Whyborn liked that place. He was glad to have arrived.

Then hands took hold of his parka and pulled him out of the water. Those who pulled him out revived him.

When he came too and saw that he was still alive, Whyborn looked at his brother, who had helped to save him.

"Why did you bring me back?" he asked. 

"Death," Whyborn said, "holds no fear for me now."

My wrist was still in a brace. My shoulder still hurt 100 percent of the time and felt fragile to me. I had a fear that I could not stand up to the rigors of the whaling life. I did not plan to go on the ice.

But on April 30, Jason headed out to make a boat ramp where the lead had briefly been, where he hoped it would open again. His younger sister had been planning to go out and help, but she had hurt her wrist, and couldn't.

So a snowmachine was available. I climbed on that snowmachine and found that if I did not grip the throttle in the usual way but pushed it forward with my thumb supported against my brace, I could drive it. At first, I tried to fit a glove over my hand and brace, but the weather was so warm that I found I didn't even need the glove so I took it off.

The fellow with the red on his hat in the background, that's Iceberg 14 co-whaling captain Jason Ahmaogak. The young man chucking the block of ice out of the boat ramp is Jerry Ahmaogak.

This would prove to be one of the hardest whaling seasons on record, all up and down the Arctic coast.

But in June, well after the hunt would normally have ended, Jason would guide the Iceberg 14 boat to the only whale that Wainwright would land. Jerry would harpoon it. Young Benny Ahmaogak, who is also out here building the boat ramp, would fire the shoulder gun.

Today in Wasilla: I see great beauty in the sky; a raven passes over me; a snowmachine shoots past; I hear, "North, to Alaska!"

I took my walk late this morning, shortly after the sun rose. I looked up and saw great beauty in the sky.

Further along, a raven passed over me.

As I walked, I heard the loud whine of a snow machine, being throttled nearly to the red line - maybe even over. Worried that I might be in its path, I turned and saw that it was still about a block-and-a-half away, coming extremely fast, but had gone onto Seldon Street.

I hurriedly pulled out my new pocket camera and turned it on, barely in time to get this one frame before it shot past and disappeared.

I mean, this snow machine was going fast. Sixty, at the very least. I think maybe faster than that.

A bit after noon, I was in my car when "North! To Alaska!" came on the radio, sung by Johnny Horton. I am listening to it at this very moment, as I wait at the stop sign for this truck to pass.

I can't sing worth a damn - but damn! I am singing, anyway.

"North! To Alaska!"

Yeah, baby! That's right.

And God, I love it!

Don't get offended - I'm not taking the Lord's name in vain. I'm thanking Him. Or Her. Whatever you wish to believe.

I don't know.

I'm just damned thankful, that's all.

Please note: Today begins my review by month of 2009. January will go up 20 minutes after this post.

The man who owns a '56 Chevy; a school bus goes off the road; dusk horse raises its tail

This is Bill, who lives two houses down Sarah's Way in the opposite direction from the one I took yesterday. Bill owns, rebuilt and maintains a very sharp looking, smooth-running, classic 1956 Chevy that he bought for $100. He painted it black and red/orange and when you see it coming down the road, it catches your eye right away and you wish that you were riding in it, Buddy Holly on the radio, that you were young and had a pretty girl clinging to you, nibbling at your ear, giggling each time she almost makes you crash.

Perhaps next summer, I will build a blog post around that Chevy. I know there is a good story in it.

Almost nine years has now passed since my first black cat, Little Guy, the one who passed straight from his mother's womb into my waiting hands, stepped out the back door on a day with three times as much snow as this one and disappeared.

I was devastated to lose that cat and I went up and down the street, knocking on every door to see if anyone had seen Little Guy.

For weeks afterward, whenever he would see me walking past, Bill would ask me if I had found my cat. He always looked very concerned. I know he was keeping an eye out for that cat.

I still appreciate that.

Bill blows the snow off his driveway.

A cottonwood tree, bent down toward Tamar.

Muzzy and a snowplow.

As I walked one way, this school bus came driving the other. Shortly after it passed, I turned just in time to see its right wheels slip off the shoulder of the road and then slide right into the culvert. 

Anyone who lives up here long enough will do this kind of thing sooner or later, probably a few times.

It can be embarrassing, but it must be worse when you have a busload of students.

One of the students looks out at me.

As St. Bernards do when people get into trouble in the snow, Muzzy comes to help out. Unfortunately, he forgot to bring his little barrel of brandy.

It's a good thing, because the driver shouldn't be touching brandy and the kids were all too young.

If someone had brought a dog harness, we could have hitched him to that bus and he would have pulled it right out.

But nobody had a harness.

I walked on, leaving the bus and kids in it to be rescued by the school district.

Margie is in town with Lavina and Kalib and will be staying with them overnight in their new house. She left some bills on the counter for me to pay. Along the way, I saw this guy on a green snowmachine waiting for a green light so he could cross the road.

When the light changed, the left turn arrow turned green for me, which meant this guy's light was still red. As I began my turn, he gunned his throttle and shot straight across the road directly across my path. Maybe he was not waiting for a green light at all, but only for a gap in the traffic passing in front of him so that he could run a red one.

I believe this falls into the category that Melanie AND Lisa* calls, "soooooo Wasilla!"

This is what it looked like in front of Wasilla Lake. 

This person got stuck on the divider.

A school bus passed by without mishap.

I took my coffee break at the usual time. After I stopped at Metro Cafe, I took the long way home and passed by this horse as darkness drew down. The horse raised its tail and then dropped something.

*updated to include both coiners of the phrase: see Lisa's comment

Kalib moves out, part 2: He screams and cries; Today, I walk about lethargic in Wasilla and refuse to write about Sarah Palin

"Grampa! Grampa! Don't go, Grampa!" Kalib screams. "Take me back home with you!" Actually, he does not call me "Grampa." He calls me, "Gabba." "Don't go" and "take me back home with you" are phrases I have yet to hear him speak.

He was just upset because something didn't go quite right, in his mind - and he was tired. He had missed his nap and would not sleep for many hours yet to come.

This is from last night, as he moved into his new house.

As I mentioned, I took a great many pictures last night and I know that there are a number of people who love Kalib and who come here just to see him, so, what I have decided to do, is spread those pictures out in a series over the next four or five days, so that those who love Kalib will have a reason to visit.

After that, maybe I can see him again, shoot a bunch more pictures and have a new series for next week.

Yet, I will also run something current from each new day.

So here I pick up right where I left off last night - with Lavina vacuuming the rug as Kalib stands by, a little perplexed.

The man they bought the house from was a heavy smoker. Lavina and Jacob had already taken steps to deodorize the place, but they are not done yet. Lavina does not like the rug at all and plans to soon replace it. 

The next step will be to paint the walls and this will create fumes that may drive Lavina and Kalib out of the house for awhile, so they may be back here tomorrow night.

I'm not sure.

Lavina is not one to leave Kalib standing forlorn and crying, so she stands up the vacuum and heads toward him.

Kalib rushes into her arms.

Mother and son sit on the couch as grandma takes over the vacuum. She tries to vacuum up Lavina's feet, which makes Kalib feel a little better.

Then Auntie Lisa comes along and tosses a big ball into the air. That makes Kalib feel better, too.

In part 3 of this series, we will see some of the other exciting ways Lisa was able to use this ball to amuse her little nephew, Kalib.

I spent today alone, except for a short time this morning. After breakfast, Margie headed into town to help Lavina out around the new house. She plans to spend the night and help tomorrow, too. Given the fact that she is still limping about and is a bit fragile, what she can do to help is limited, but she loves to hang out with Kalib and that will help quite a bit.

I have been extremely lethargic all day long. I always go through this in the winter, when daylight is dim and short.

I should have taken a long walk, but I took only a short one. I left the house at 3:30 PM with my pocket camera and came back at 4:03.

I hadn't walked far before these two scooted past on a snowmachine. I had to turn around to take the picture, because I was walking in the opposite direction, away from the road they followed.

As you can see, I have progressed further, but see that man down the road? That's the same fellow clad in the blue jacket in the previous picture. He has not made much progress at all.

What a slow poke!

This must be what they call, "dusk."

A car comes up Tamar. Actually, it's a truck - a pickup truck, but "a pickup truck comes up Tamar" has no rhyme. 

That's the Chugach Mountains in the background.

Russian immigrant children play on a fourwheeler.

A man named Buck drives his snowmachine home to his wife, his dog, his cat and the kids. Tequila is the dog. Some of you will remember her.

The first time that I met her, I put the word, "pitbull" in my title and I got a huge number of hits above the average, because readers thought I meant Sarah Palin, of course.

If I were to write about Sarah Palin every day, I could have a huge number of readers, but I refuse to do it.

Some of you - admit it, now - you came here today just because I said in the title that I refuse to write about Sarah Palin. You saw that and you wondered what I would write about her.

Some could argue that, by writing her name, I just wrote about her, but I disagree.

I merely set a lure, to see how many might bite.

I won't do it everyday, either.

Yet, I bet if I did, some of you would come, every single day - even though I fooled you the day before. You would see the name, "Sarah Palin," and you just could not stop yourselves.

You would come.

Yes, you would.

Two snowmachines in Wainwright - I will now take a short break

As I walked through Wainwright, I came upon these two snowmachines, in exactly this position.

Now I am going to take a short break from this blog. Early this morning, before I went to bed, I put considerable time into an entry that you do not see here.

You do not see it because, when I clicked the "save" button, this wonderful Squarespace program that I made the great mistake of buying into to create and build this blog, wiped out much of my work and gave me a "clean frame" instead. It took the work I had just done and destroyed it.

I am just not ready to do it all again, but I want to tell that story before I proceed further.

I have much other work to do, anyway, and so I decided I would take a short break from this blog, at least until Sunday.