I walk past a dog, a raven flies by, a jet soars overhead; I wander down "Moose Alley"

I hadn't gone walking about my neighborhood for a long time - either because I had been traveling, riding my bike, or because I was so busy doing other things or maybe I was just being lazy.

Yesterday, I decided it was time to start walking again - to see what I could see - to be a street photographer in Wasilla, Alaska.

I hadn't been walking long before I spotted this dog. It was a wary dog.

It did not know that I am every dog's best friend - even if I am cat person.

This dog had nothing to fear from me.

Yet, it feared me.

I spotted a raven up ahead. It spotted me, then flew over to check me out.

"Hey!" it exclaimed as it swept by, "I recognize you from last winter."

"Yes," I agreed. "I recognize you, too. How you been? I've been meaning to ask your name?"

I never got an answer.

The raven had already flown on.

A jet passed overhead.

I wondered if there were people inside eating pretzels, consuming soft drinks and beer, looking down upon Alaska, marveling at the snow mountains.

I came to the corner of Tamar and Seldon.

I looked both ways, to see if bears might be coming.

I saw no bears.

Not grizzly, not polar, not black.

No bears of any kind

Just a truck.

I decided that it was safe to cross the road and I did.

Then I was in the marsh, which is pretty dry these days and doesn't even seem like a marsh anymore. 

I walked down "Moose Alley," peering into the bushes for moose. I did not want to find myself with a mama cow on one side of me and a calf or two on the other.

I did not see any moose all.

But, late at night, I took a walk in the dark - too dark to take a picture. Suddenly, there was a moose - a cow, about ten feet to my right. I quickly looked to my left.

I saw no calves to my left.

I couldn't be sure. It was pretty dark. The cow was placid, though, so it was okay.

This morning, during the early part of dusk, I cooked myself some oatmeal and then sat down on the couch to eat it. It was then that I looked out through the back door window and saw this moose and two others in the yard.

There wasn't much light, and I did not want my oatmeal to get cold, plus I was wearing slippers and did not want to get snow in my socks, but I picked up my camera, stepped outside and shot a few underexposed frames. They looked like nothing but black in my camera, but I was able to scrape much of the blackness away in Lightroom and Photoshop and so was left with this noisy image.

I don't care if its noisy. That was the situation. Better a noisy photo than no photo.

I then came back in and ate my oatmeal.

It was still hot.

The coffee was still hot.

My day had begun.

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Geese pass by the sun; Mona, Jobe, Larry and Jim - Pioneer Peak at dusk, Joe Miller sign beneath

I headed for Anchorage about noon, picked Larry Aiken up at his hotel and then drove to the airport to meet his special friend, Mona, who had flown down from Barrow to stay with him during his cancer treatment.

As we waited at a stoplight, we saw some geese coming.

I still have not located my pocket camera (although I know it is here) and I had forgotten to bring a DSLR. That left only my iPhone and it was buried deep in my pocket. I did not think I could get it out and into camera mode in time and so decided just to let the geese pass by, unshot.

But no! To quit is not the natural way of Alaskans and it is not my way. I dug into my pocket, pulled out the iPhone, switched it to camera mode, raised it to the window and then could see nothing in it but the intense glare of the high-noon sun.

So I shot blind. I got my geese. 

Pretty soon, I expect to get a call from MOMA* in New York. As soon as they learn about this photo, they will want to hang it on their wall.

I don't know what I will do, if I will let them hang it or not. I will have to think about it.

Here is how you can know:

Go to New York, or stay there if you are already there. Visit MOMA. If you see this iPhone photo prominently displayed on the wall, then you know I said, "yes."

If you don't, then you know I said, "no."

I can be quite particular about just who I let show my photographs.

*Museum of Modern Art.

After we got to the house, Jobe charmed Mona.

Then Jim came out, to charm both Mona and Larry. 

I hardly took any pictures. I just visited and ate. I ate too much, and I still feel it today.

Jacob and Lavina came out and so did Melanie and Lisa. Caleb was already here. Only Rex and Ama were missing. They must have been out getting in some good times before she departed back to San Francisco Bay, for just a short stay.

At dusk, I drove Larry and Mona back to Anchorage.

Although it is not at all obvious in this blog-sized version, if you could see this image at full 5D II resolution, you would clearly see that the little white rectangle with the dark in the middle down at the lower right is a campaign sign pushing Joe Miller for Senate.

Given all that has come to light, it is kind of strange to see such a sign, yet, there you have it.

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iPhoning it with Rex and Ama by the Little Su, where a spineless moose lost his head - and his antlers, too

Rex and his girlfriend Ama showed up yesterday about 1:00 PM. They had wanted to take Margie and me out to lunch, but Margie had gone to town to babysit Kalib and Jobe, so they just took me. Afterwards, Rex drove Ama through his boyhood haunts toward the Little Su.

To Rex, as it is for me, the tour was one of lament, for what he saw was all the places that had been so wild and free now ruined and cut off by the development that has put an end to the hiking, skiing, and mountain biking that we used to do through all this country, but can't do anymore.

To Ama, who grew up in New York and now hails from the San Francisco Bay area, it appeared as though we were driving through a rural, nearly pristine area, with just a few houses here and there, and a gas station.

Ama and Rex met last summer when she came to Alaska to do some adventuring and they hit it off. She had a great time in Alaska and did some things that I still haven't done - such as kayak in Prince William Sound, but she was pretty certain that she would not want to be a winter-time Alaskan.

Rex went and spent some time with her in the Bay area in September and, judging from Facebook, they had a great time.

Now she is back in Alaska. She might have even found a job here. She is ready to try winter-time Alaska, ready to become an Alaskan.

You will note how bundled up she is - hat, gloves, multi-layers and what she probably believes to be a winter coat.

You will note how Rex is not bundled up at all.

I was even less bundled.

It's often like that, when people come to visit from other places. 

Next year, I suspect, she will be dressed just like us.

To me, the air only seemed disgustingly warm for this time of year. The ground should be covered in snow. All the lakes should be frozen over. Some are, and some are freezing, but some have little ice at all.

The bank of the Little Su should be completely rimmed in ice.

It's disgusting, really. I can hardly stand it.

The other day we were talking with Jacob and Lavina about Halloween, and how the kids would go out, sometimes in sub-zero weather, and come back with icy pant legs and their costumes crisp and frozen.

It could still happen that way this year, but I wouldn't count on it.

Rex skips a rock.

What is that he has spotted? A log, drifted almost to the bank?

Why, it's a moose head! As you can see, someone has cut the antlers away from the skull. Soon, perhaps, they will hang on someone's wall, or be placed over a doorway or put on display in a yard. Maybe they already have been.

I wonder where the moose was shot and butchered? This is a place by the road and bridge where many people gather to picnic, skip rocks, cast a line, drink beer, smoke dope or do whatever. It would be very rude to butcher a moose in such a place and just leave the leftovers behind, so I speculate that perhaps it was done upstream and the skull just washed to this place.

A short distance away, we found the spine. There was a significant amount of moose hair on the rocks on the bank.

So I am not sure. It might have drifted down, but someone might have butchered it right here.

Coming into the main channel is a little estuary that has frozen over. 

Whoever left this to freeze into the estuary definitely is rude. I hate to say it, but an awful lot of this kind of thing happens around here.

There are many people who live in this area who do not know where they live.

Oh, yes - they will tell you, perhaps proudly, "I live in Alaska!"

But they don't even know it.

Frozen moose print. I had forgotten my camera, by the way. I had to take all these pictures with my iPhone. I like the iPhone camera, but the lens has become very smudged and hazy.

Ama studies the scientific properties of a frozen puddle.

I find a nice little shell along the bank - a 9 mm. I still have it. It's in my pocket.

Ama observes a scorched tree trunk. Trees here do not have long tap roots that extend deep into the ground. Here, the roots spread out beneath the tree and form a platform for it.

Rex gets an idea for some iron art involving salmon that he wants to create. So he takes a few pictures of this dead one for later study.

The dead salmon.

Later, we go to Little Miller's for coffee as we listen to the afternoon news on the radio. We could not go to Metro, because Metro is closed on Sundays.

The lady at the window accepts Rex's cash.

Such was Sunday.

Now it is Monday.

I don't want to do anything.

I suppose that I had better.

I am tired, though. Really, really, tired.

I don't want to do anything.

But how can I do nothing at all?

That would be boring.

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Cross Island - where polar bears can come knocking at your door - or window - or just go through the wall

A nanuq on Cross Island.*

A polar bear punched this hole in the wall.

Mother and child.

Please note the unfinished wood behind Maniksaq Nukapigak. It was placed there as part of a major repair job after a nanuq smashed through the wall when no one was home and helped itself to all that it desired. It moved things around and trashed the inside of the cabin.

Handsome young one.

The fellow in the mirror fragment is Maniksaq's dad - whaling captain Isaac Nukapigak. After the bear went through the outside wall and entered the cabin it came face to face with itself in a mirror on the opposite wall. It smashed the bear in the mirror.

There she is - Ms. Nanuq with her two, nearly grown, cubs.

This is James Tuckfield, "Jamie." In the early morning of this day, he was inside the cabin, sitting against the wall opposite this window when he saw something round and black appear at the spot where his finger is. It was a polar bear nose.

Nanuq siblings.

The nose began to slide up the window. Jamie demonstrates the facial gestures and paw movements that he saw the bear make as it rose up behind the window.

The siblings seem to get along well.

Jamie continues to describe what he saw.

Momma nanuq, once again.

That bear got pretty animated. On the inside, Jamie and others in the cabin also got animated as they put on a frightening show, hoping to scare the bear away.

Cub follows mom.

The bear left. All was good. There was a new story to tell.

Jamie invites me in to visit. He is famous for his maktak soup and is cooking up a pot right now. I will have a bowl later - and another after that. Jamie's fame is well deserved. 

As Jamie cooks, a young hunter peers through the window and spots more polar bears.

It was these three, who I first showed you last week, as they walked nonchalantly down the beach, ignoring the humans who they knew were watching them.

Now, suddenly, one of the cubs takes an interest.

Not far out of the frame, another adult bear shows up as well.

The people take an interest in the bears. He is not bringing the gun out to hunt, but, if need be, to frighten off the bears and, if absolutely need be, to down a bear in defense of human life.

The Iñupiat hunt bears and they hunt them on this island, but right now they are taking care of their whale harvest and want to save their energy for that. They do not want to be forced to shoot a bear.

They get checked out pretty closely.

He closely checks out the bear through the scope. The young hunter wants to take a closer look, too.

Buddy Napageak has decided these bears are not a threat - but he will remain ready should anything change.

I go back in to visit as Jamie continues to cook. Whaling captain Carl Brower, who owns this connex cabin, looks out the window and sees more bears. Willie reads a Louis Lamour western.

More bears. As the reader can see, the hour of deep darkness draws nigh. I have to push my ISO up to 6400.

Another mother has come with two smaller cubs, including this one.

The cubs. The one at the right will wander about 100 feet or so away from the other and a bit farther than that from the mother. Ivory, the dog who I recently introduced in a previous post, will chase after that cub.

And then the cub's mother charges Ivory. It was an amazing thing to witness the speed, power and determined force with which the sow charged after Ivory - and it was a little frightening, too. I did not succeed at photographing it - other than this blurry image. Given the low light, my camera just could not zero in on the focus in the brief moment.

Ivory comes running back.

Mom and cubs leave.

Buddy with Ivory, who is safe. Buddy loves the dog greatly, but is quick to point out that Ivory is as much the dog of his brother, whaling captain Thomas Napageak, Jr., as his.

The bears gather to pick scraps off of some bowhead skulls. It is now so dark that I can only shoot at a very slow shutter speed.

I should note that I have a special polar bear story and photo essay from this trip that I am saving exclusively for Uiñiq, so it won't be seen on this blog until well after Uiñiq has had a chance to circulate through its readership.

*A special thanks to Whaling Captain Edward Nukapigak Jr., my host and the man who made it possible for me to take the opening series of close photos. Up until the time we left, I had only been able to get distant shots, almost all in very low light. When it came time to go home, Edward's crew was the last to leave Cross Island. After we had traveled about a quarter mile offshore, Edward spotted six bears on the beach, very close to the place from which we had launched. He turned around and took me right to them.

I could have spent all day photographing those bears, but I am exceptionally grateful for the several minutes that Edward gave me.

I have thought about the Cross Island bears many times since. I want to go back and hang out with them some more. I just want to go back to Cross Island. It can be a cold, bitter, lonesome, dangerous place, but I want to go back.

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On the day of his dad's first Chemo, Branson brandishes a hockey stick; Metro Cafe is one year old; moose, dog - truck for sale on trail

When I turned off Lucille Street into the drive-through lane of Metro Cafe, I saw a tiny, heavily- bundled and padded figure run across the parking lot on the blade protectors of his hockey skates. It was five-year old Branson, who then posed for Through the Metro Window Study, #2081. True, he was outside the window, but I could still see through it to the customers behind.

Branson's father Scott had just undergone his first chemo treatment as part of his fight against the colon cancer that he is determined to beat. Today, Branson will attend his first day of kindergarten. While he is trying to prepare himself early, his first official hockey practice will not happen until late September.

I had not seen Carmen since before I left for Barrow, but she was here when I pulled in and so she came to join in with Branson. She let me know that today also marks the first anniversary of Metro Cafe's opening. She pondered all that has happened in that short year, from the family efforts to create a new kind of place in Wasilla to Scott coming down with cancer to Branson now entering kindergarten.

It has been quite a year for Carmen, Scott, Branson and Metro Cafe.

And on top of all this, Alaska buried Senator Ted Stevens yesterday.

As I drove home the long way, sipping my Metro order, this moose crossed the road in front of me. See how summer's colors have begun to give way to fall's?

Very soon, the colors will all be fall. And then, once again, it will be white... I hope. The weather just keeps getting stranger and stranger and that which we could once take for granted can no longer be counted on.

I had not walked down this way in a long time, but now I did. Tequila greeted me just as she always did in the past - barking, growling, acting tough, but I knew better. She didn't scare me.

This is one of those situations that my daughters would derisively describe with the phrase, "That's so Wasilla!" As you can see, this truck is parked across the trail that borders Seldon Street, with a "For Sale" sign on it. Another sign faces the road, so that those driving by can see it. 

This is a busy trail, used by many. Pedestrians use it, adults and children pedaling bicycles, mothers and fathers pushing baby strollers, people on four-wheelers.

It is a very busy trail, but what the hell. Someone wants to sell a truck.

So, if perchance you are looking for a truck and you are interested in this one, here is the price and phone number. Give a call, make the deal, take the truck. You will be doing many trail users a favor.

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