Gullible's Travels

♫ Yesterday♫

2012-02-19T14:06:00.000-08:00

Remember that Beatles’ song “Yesterday?”

♫Yesterday, all my troubles seemed so far away?♫

Well, yesterday I felt the same way as I was delivering mail along the 130 mile route. The weather was pretty nice, sun peeking through, temperatures around 30 or so, the previous day’s slop now turned to ice.

Everything was rocking right along. Just the usual winter things like horrendous fuel bills and horrendous snow-plowing bills. The sun was back in the valley, though with the overcast skies, you wouldn’t know it.

I saw a bald eagle in Hope, and eight more in Cooper Landing. The ones in Cooper Landing hang out along the Kenai River, waiting for a stray salmon carcass to float downstream. Two eagles were side by side in a tall cottonwood tree and three more buddied-up across the river, so close to the road I could almost have touched them.

Sorry this photo is blurry, but I was driving across the bridge and trying to grab a quick photo before traffic caught up with me.

Where the bridge crosses the mouth of the river at Kenai Lake, a few swans and their hangers-on floated at the edge of the ice while fishermen tried to catch rainbow trout.

Yes, nice day. I was thinking about all the fun projects I wanted to do when I got home. Instead of heading right for the post office to finish up, I pulled into my driveway for a quick pit stop.

Actually, I didn’t pull into my driveway so much as I bounced into my driveway over the more-than-a-foot-high mound of broken ice chunks the highway plow had piled across the top of it. I had cleared a similar mound the previous day and I wasn’t happy about this one. That stuff is heavy.

The dirty snow in the foreground was a present from the highway guys. The dirty snow in the background is why I can't shovel the new dirty snow out of my driveway.

I added “clean the top of the driveway” to my list as I headed for the bathroom for my pit stop. What met me there, I won’t describe. Suffice it to say my pit stop occurred outdoors and I added “clean up the bathroom mess” and “shovel a path to the lift station” and “call the Roto-Rooter guy” to my list of projects.

I thought I had that septic line freezing problem whipped when I hung a 100watt rough service light bulb in the lift station. That was supposed to keep the floats from freezing in place, a problem that meant the floats wouldn’t trip the “on switch” to the pump, resulting in the septic tank filling and the water backing up into the line and freezing.

♫Yesterday, all my troubles seemed so far away,
Now it looks as if they’re here to stay…♫

First things first. I finished the mail route and headed home to clean out the driveway. While I was struggling along, my friend JJ came by and offered her help. I was reluctant, but knowing what my shoulder would be like afterwards, I let her start the path to the lift station opening. The snow, variously like sugar with layers of ice, or wet and heavy, was four feet deep.

My 300 gallon propane tank is buried on the right.

I finished the drive and came back to help her, wading through the snow to where I thought the lift station was and starting to shovel while she worked her way towards me.

Everything seemed okay in the lift station. The floats weren’t frozen though the bulb had self-destructed, leaving its base in the socket. I went back to the garage to get tools and a new bulb. That’s when the right ear piece on my VERY expensive titanium eyeglasses frame broke.

♫Suddenly, I’m not half as calm as I used to be,
There’s a shadow hanging over me,
Oh, this trouble came suddenly.♫

With needle-nose pliers, I removed the base of the broken bulb and then installed the new bulb. Nothing. Apparently the heat from the light had fried the socket. I added “get a new light socket” to my list of projects, along with “go to Anchorage and hope the ophthalmologist has a new earpiece in stock and doesn’t have to order one.”

JJ finished the path and we went in the house and groused about being “property managers” all winter rather than having fun. We also talked about our various options to cure that situation.

I added “get through this winter” to the list and also “figure out what the heck you’re going to do with all this stuff” if and when you sell this house.

♫Yesterday, seemed such an easy game to play,

Now I need a place to hide away.♫

Dixie returned my call and asked if I wanted Bob the Roto-Rooter guy to come over that evening or the next morning. I told her morning would be fine.

“You sure?” she asked.

“Yeah, I still have the red bucket I peed in last winter,” I said. There was a long pause before she started laughing

“I wasn’t expecting that.” We made arrangements for Bob the Roto-Rooter guy to be here at 10 AM. I grabbed my shovel and made sure there was a pathway to the septic clean-out opening. Fortunately, that clean-out is under my front deck, which normally is an annoyance. This time, it’s a blessing, otherwise it would be under four feet of snow and ice.

One of our many blizzards this winter actually sculpted the snow like this. I only had to remove the newer snow to clear a path to get under the deck.

Back in the house, I put an artichoke on to boil and sat down to sulk and watch a movie on Starz. It was a pretty good movie, Low Down with Robert Duvall as a cranky hermit trying to arrange for own funeral to be held while he’s still alive.

Very entertaining movie. That’s why I forgot about the artichoke, which ran out of water and incinerated the lower leaves of the tasty thistle. I ate the rest of it anyway and decided I’d had quite enough of yesterday, so I went to bed right after 8 PM.

♫I’d had enough of yesterday.♫

PS: Bob is going to come by next week and install a heat trace in the septic line. That should solve that.

My hero.

NOTE: A wee bit of an apology to the Beatles for some minor lyrics changes.

Sunshine Dreaming

2012-02-15T01:33:00.000-08:00

Right on schedule, the sun made it back to my part of the valley today. I know that because it quit snowing long enough for the sun to peek through that notch in the mountains and give us a brief kiss. Then it clouded over again and the forecast is for more snow.

I would have missed it if the snow plow guy hadn't been in my yard and when I looked outside: BEHOLD THE SUN!!!

Of course.

Here are some bald eagles I saw a couple days ago.

"Sunshine on my shoulders would make me happy.

Sunshine on my wings would make e glad."

And this poor eagle with four noisy magpies around him.

Yours, Gullible

2012-02-13T23:41:00.000-08:00

(There'a something about this template color that makes me think of Pepto Bismol.)

Whatever It Takes

2012-02-13T17:33:00.000-08:00

On the front page of the Anchorage Daily News Saturday

Trouble with a Capital "T" and that Rhymes with Me....and Don't Forget about Ralph

2012-02-10T16:42:00.000-08:00

Not long after moving to Alaska, my mother almost called the cops on me. She had her hand on the phone when she saw me crossing the dirt yard of the Hale Apartments where we lived. Such was my transgression that I have little doubt the Anchorage cops would have enlisted the Territorial Police and the U.S. Marshals in hunting me down.

Desperado Daughter

“I almost called the police!” she yelled when she ran outdoors and caught me. In a desperate effort to change the subject, I presented her with a salmon to cook for dinner, but the fish served only to increase her ire.

I’m pretty sure I wasn’t the instigator in that incident. I’m pretty sure it was Ralph, who was so far my only friend in Anchorage. Ralph was a year older and had lived in the U-shaped rows of apartments at the corner of 5^th and Gambell longer. Ralph knew the lay of the land.

I didn’t. I was only six years old.

But I’m ahead of myself. In order to get into trouble, I had to get to Alaska from Detroit, and that’s where I’ll start this tale.

My mother had long wanted to live in Alaska, so when her brother-in-law Ross was transferred to Anchorage by the CAA (predecessor of the FAA), I’m sure she heard the news with much chagrin. In the spring of the following year, word from her sister Agnes that the railroad was hiring if they could be in Alaska by June 15, 1948, had Mom and Dad packing up for the move north. Whether it was by letter or a “by appointment” phone call made from the Alaska Communications System office in the Federal Building on Fifth Avenue, I really don’t know.

All I got out of the whole deal was that I was going to live in an igloo. That’s what all the kids in my first grade class told me. I’d given most of them chicken pox, but that’s beside the point.

A long journey by train to Chicago was followed by an even longer flight in a DC-4 (I think). We landed in Canada to refuel, then Fairbanks, and then at Elmendorf AFB. A large box of chocolates, a farewell gift from relatives, accompanied us on the trip.

I’m positive it wasn’t the chocolates that made me sick shortly after our plane departed Chicago because I’ve eaten many chocolates since then and never gotten sick. Instead, it was the first indication that I suffered from an extreme propensity to motion sickness. Too bad for the other passengers on that airplane.

Next thing I knew, we moved into a tiny one bedroom apartment with Ross and Agnes and my dad went to work for the railroad.

That’s where I met Ralph Daniels, the only other kid even close to my age, and we became fast friends. As I said earlier, Ralph was older by a year and had lived there longer, so it must have been his idea to wander over to 3^rd Avenue and down the steep, wooded bank to Ship Creek and the Alaska Railroad yards.

I don’t remember how far we walked toward Cook Inlet, or how long we were gone. Time means nothing when you’re having an adventure, but it must have been a fair distance because we had to have been walking the clay tidal banks of Ship Creek where we acquired the fish. Actually, if I recall correctly, we were on the way home when said fish presented itself to us.

That fish, a bright red, snaggle-toothed humpy, was well on its way to becoming one with the muck in which we’d found it lying fins up, so to speak. All I knew was this was one of the prized salmon I’d heard the grown-ups talk about. Ralph and I decided to take it home and tell them we’d caught it.

I suppose the state of the fish’s deterioration had much to do with my mother’s reaction when she spotted me after many hours of unauthorized absence. Never mind that she had been having visions of me lost forever or maybe even dead, she now had a daughter reeking of decomposing fish.

Ralph and I must have been sentenced to yard confinement after that, because our subsequent adventures consisted of tying a string to a tin can and tossing the can onto the dirt road that was 5th Avenue. Late afternoon was prime time for traffic coming from the direction of Merrill Field, so that’s when we tossed our can as far as the string would reach and waited for a vehicle to run over it and smash it flat.

We spent a lot of hours choking in the dust or dodging mud puddle splashes, but no vehicle ever ran over the can.

In retrospect, it’s probably a good thing there weren’t any railroad tracks close by, as I’m sure Ralph and I would have put pennies on the tracks to see if the train would derail.

Sadly, my life of crime with my partner Ralph was cut short that summer when SOMEBODY set our apartment on fire and we had to move.

I had nothing to do with that. And neither did Ralph.

After the fire at the Hale Apartments.

Alley side. Somewhere in that mess was a little white "piggy bank" in the shape of a Bible. Now it rests in the old city landfill, along with the 12 silver dollars it contained.

Desperado Dad, my role model. Looks like it ran in the family.

Sunshine Chimera

2012-02-08T19:24:00.000-08:00

I stand in the afternoon sunshine, eyes closed, jacket unzipped, no hat or gloves. In my heart, there dances a chimera.

With the rays of the sun warming my face, I am almost beguiled into believing that winter is soon over, is almost a season well on the way to being chased out of town by the lengthening daylight and the rising temperatures of spring.

Reality clamors for attention in a more sensible part of my brain, but I ignore it until the loud click of the gas nozzle indicates my truck is full. That rude interruption into my fantasy brings me back to the Costco gas station in Anchorage, the reality of $3.74 a gallon gasoline, and that the day is February 7 in Alaska. February, mind you. In Alaska, I repeat.

I replace the nozzle and the gas cap and look around the Costco parking lot. Everywhere I look, Alaskans are acting like it’s spring. No one wears hats or gloves. Jackets and coats are unzipped. Chimeras can’t be seen but I’m guessing there are many hanging out in this snow covered lot today, all working their way into receptive and willing hearts and minds.

The temperature? In the high twenties.

We aren’t out of this yet, I remind myself as I pull the receipt out of the slot and look at the total.

Seven more weeks in which the temperature can easily slide way below zero, seven more weeks in which several feet of snow can fall, seven more weeks of winter. April?

April’s a crap shoot.

One never knows what April can bring. It can be gentle; it can be ferocious. Or, as Charles Dickens wrote, “It was the best of times; it was the worse of times.” That’s April. Schizophrenia in nature. The only sure thing about April is that in thirty days it will be May, and May is much more reliable.

The drive into Anchorage was reality itself. In the space of five miles along Turnagain Arm, there is one vehicle sideways in a snow bank, and holes where five others had been. Black ice coats the asphalt, invisible ice formed by sudden warm temperatures after weeks of below zero cold. I switch to four-wheel drive for better steering and braking.

The chimera refuses to leave. It dances over my shoulder like a sun dog as I drive through Anchorage to the far side of town. All the errands on my long list are crossed off, all but the most important: Visiting a housebound friend, and delivering groceries and a prescription to her.

She greets me at the door with a hug and I watch her walk back into her condo living room. She walks better than she has in more than a year. Four weeks after hip replacement surgery, four weeks after banishing horrendous pain from her body, and she walks with confidence. Her voice is free of the pain, her face is free of the pain, her body is free of the pain.

She is a new person and one with a bright future. I leave the springtime chimera with her, where it belongs, and drive home to Moose Pass.

The Polar Bear Journals, Ch. 15, The Big Dog

2012-02-05T22:43:00.000-08:00

When Dave Daley told his wife he wanted a team of sled dogs, she said, “You better figure out how to pay for them.”

So he did.

One of those ways resulted in the busing of a couple dozen of us to his dog lot outside of Churchill, Manitoba. We were on a Road Scholar trip called Lords of the North and had spent the four previous days spotting and watching three dozen wild polar bears.

Now, on our last full day in Churchill, we were greeted by a pack of howling dogs. And the Big Dog himself—the inimitable Dave. With a line of blarney that belies his Metis (French and Cree) heritage, Dave entertains tourists with a humorous and educational spiel before giving them rides on either sleds or a carriage, depending on snow conditions, or the lack thereof.

The One and Only Big Dog, Dave Daley.

I was looking forward to this, being a retired dog musher myself. I was curious about advances in equipment, feeding methods, and training styles. And the dogs. Very much interested in the dogs.

Then I met Dave and suddenly I was in my own dog lot twenty years ago, stuffing straw in dog houses, cleaning up their deposits, and giving lots and lots of hugs. Dave talked for quite a time before we went outside to actually meet his dogs and to be introduced to the various equipment involved in running dogs.

Harnesses ready to go.

Before that, however, the inevitable subject of what happens with dogs that can no run with a team, or who are terminally sick or injured, in a land where the nearest veterinarian might be hundreds of miles away.

That’s when Dave won my heart. And made me cry.

He spoke of spending time with the ailing dog, telling to animal how much it was loved and appreciated, and how much it will be missed. Then, Dave said, he asks the dog to return in spirit to the dog lot, to be with always, either in spirit or in another dog.

That’s when the tears ran down my face. I remembered long ago dogs I loved with all my heart and how much they are missed to this day.

Dave and his sleds.

Big Dog's dog lot.

Dave is the originator of the Hudson Bay Quest race, patterned after the Iditarod and the Yukon Quest races in Alaska, which he would very much like to enter some day. His race involved travel on the ice of Hudson Bay and the likelihood of polar bear encounters, so when they blazed a completely on land routes, he breathed a sigh of relief. While there remains a chance of a bear encounter, the odds are now far against it.

Donna and Kathy.

For those snowless times.

That evening, Dave came to the Churchill Northern Studies Centre and spoke to our group.

Dave and his bear gun.

His family has lived in Churchill for several generations, and has known the bias against descendants of the First Nation peoples.

When he was a child, his mother kept telling him he was descended from the French voyageurs and he was not allowed to learn the traditional language and practices of his Aboriginal people. Now, however, Dave is considered a community leader and teaches the town children in the old ways.

Yes! Boy, do I miss this view.

He has received many awards for his volunteers efforts. A couple years ago Dave ran hid dogs from Churchill to Winnipeg, a distance of about 750 miles, all in the interest of promoting Manitoba.

With his wife Valerie, he owns and operates Wapusk General Store in downtown Churchill.

Wapusk General Store, owned and operated by Dave and his wife.

Painted boulder outside the store.

But Dave wasn't done with us just yet.

The next morning, most of us would board a Calm Air turboprop plane, bound for Winnipeg and our connections from there. Dave has worked for Calm Air for many years as an aircraft mechanic. Dave would be on our minds for a long time to come, as would the staff at Churchill Northern Studies Centre, the town and people of Churchill, and those magnificent polar bears of Hudson Bay.

Our ride to Winnipeg.

Chores and Other Stuff

2012-02-04T00:26:00.000-08:00

This was my chore for today:

This is another building on my property.

:>{

This is how I got out of it:

That's Paul up there shoveling off waist deep snow. :) :) !!!!

Other Stuff:

My neighbor Rose brought me a present today:

Two ginger molasses cookies and a dead bird.

Sorry, I ate the cookies before I thought to take a photo of them. The bird, however...

This is/was a snow bunting. Unfortunately a window was between it and its intended destination. I show it here because it's the first snow bunting I've ever seen. They are beautiful!

For a live bird, the woodpecker was back at the suet block in my bird feeder.

More other stuff:

A neighbor's tree house:

As for more stuff:

1. I've lost track of how many power outages we've had in the last four days. I think it's about seven. Some people in Moose Pass proper were out of electricity for two days.

2. Another blizzard plastered us with somewhere near a foot and a half of wet snow.

3. My phone was dead for more than 24 hours because the line sagged so low over the highway a passing truck snagged it and ripped it in half. For the umpteenth time.

4. Our local little school bus, the one that carries 15 kids and covers about 14 miles, has had a broken heater for more than three weeks. That's three weeks of kids riding 20 minutes to school in 25 below zero temperatures. In all that time, only one kid said, "Miss Judy (the driver)? When are you going to turn on the heat." The rest of them took it in stride.

Which reminds me. About taking things in stride? Fairbanks had a bit of a cold snap recently. I think it was something like six weeks and the temperature never went above zero. Most of the time it was closer to 50 below. It's a point of pride with Fairbanksians:

College kids, right? I had to look at this for a bit before I realized why they were all dressed in swim suits. Perhaps this is why Costco was selling swim suits in November.

Good for them.

Well, dog mushers getting ready for the brutal Yukon Quest race that runs from Fairbanks to the historic gold rush town of Dawson City have been having a wee bit of a problem getting their dogs to the veterinarian check up because their trucks won't start in 50 below temps.

Gotta go. Need to rest up so I can watch Paul finish my chores tomorrow.

The Polar Bear Journals, Ch. 14, Famous Fights deja vu

2012-01-31T18:55:00.000-08:00

Background:

November, 9, 1996, MGM Grand, Las Vegas

Holyfield is a considerable underdog in this comeback fight. The odds against him beating Tyson are 25-1. Tyson is one of the most unpredictable, fearsome heavyweights to ever enter the boxing ring.

Holyfield on the left; Tyson on the right.

The taller Holyfield, with a 7 inch reach advantage over Tyson, dominates the fight. He floors Tyson for only the second time in Iron Mike's career, and wins almost every round.

Against those tremendous 25-1 odds, Holyfield wins by a TKO in the 11th round, when Referee Mitch Halpern stops the fight. Tyson's camp complains bitterly about Holyfield's head-butting.

Holyfield wins the heavyweight championship belt for the third time.

Seven months later.

June 28, 1997.

The MGM Grand in Las Vegas is filled to capacity and millions more around the world watch on closed circuit and pay TV.

My living room is filled with friends, all of whom contributed to the pay per view match on TV that is billed as "The Sound and the Fury."

Holyfield made himself heard seven months prior when he and Iron Mike Tyson met. Referee Mitch Halpern stopped that fight in the 11th round, giving Holyfield a TKO. Holyfield, at 6 ft. 1 inch towers over the 5 foot 10 inch Tyson.

Round One :

(according to the Las Vegas Sun and other sources):

"The Sound and the Fury;"

On the left at 6'1" is Holyfield who made himself heard 'round the world by beating Tyson seven months prior, in the face of 25 to 1 odds against him. Tyson is 5'10" of fury and revenge.

The waiting is over, the talking is done, the re-match is here! Tyson lands a straight jab and is moving around.

Holyfield wrestles Tyson to his chest. Both fighters are intense. Tyson will not back away.

Holyfield is coming in low and picking his spots. Holyfield with a left hook and jab, then a great hook. Holyfield with a combination that hurts Tyson.

Tyson responds with a left, but Holyfield manages to hurt Tyson a little.

At 2:19 of the first round, an overhand right from Holyfield stuns Tyson, but Tyson fights back immediately, pushing Holyfield backwards.

The crowd is chanting "Holyfield, Holyfield," as Holyfield wins an action packed round.

Round 2:

At 0:32 of round two, Holyfield ducks under a right from Tyson, in so doing head butts Tyson and opens a large cut over his right eye.

Tyson has repeatedly complained about head-butting in the first bout between the two.

Tyson with a left hook. Tyson is showing more movement than in the previous fight. Tyson's right eye is bleeding, not the same eye that postponed the fight date.

Holyfield is digging in with upper cuts to the body.

Cut over Tyson's eye is pretty deep.

Tyson lands a nice right hand, but can't land the combination. Tyson looks frustrated.

ROUND 3:

As the third round is about to begin, Tyson comes out of his corner without his mouthpiece.

Lane orders Tyson back to his corner to insert it. Tyson inserts his mouthpiece, gets back into position, and the match resumes

Tyson charges Holyfield and lands several blows. Crowd is excited.

Fighters tie up.

Holyfield throwing right after right trying to punish Tyson.

Tyson with a straight right to the head of Holyfield that hurts him.

Tyson bites the ear of Holyfield and Holyfield's ear is bloody.

After Mills Lane breaks the two up...

Tyson charges Holyfield and pushes him in the back.

One point is taken away from Tyson. Commisioner comes in and says, "He bit his ear, he is out."

The doctor overrules the decision.

The fight continues with Tyson having a two point deduction.

The Holyfield camp is complaining.

Tyson bites Holyfield on the other ear. Holyfield throws his hands around to get out of the clinch and jumps back.

Lane does not stop the fight.

The two continue fighting until time expires.

The men walk back to their respective corners.

Mills Lane stops the fight.

An unbelievable occurance of events that leaves Holyfield and his camp in shock.

The crowd boos Tyson.

Lane ends the fight and disqualifies Tyson. Now a fight breaks out in the ring with Tyson trying to charge Holyfield.

Security is holding Tyson.

Crowd is chanting in anger.

Again, two sharp bites from Tyson in the ears of Holyfield ends the fight. Holyfield wins by disqualification.

Cheering crowd goes wild.

(Note: The commentary is from that actual fight, so the photos had to fit the commentary, not the reverse.)

To enlarge photos: Clicking on a photo brings up a line of thumbnails. The photo you clicked on should enlarge. Then, right click on that enlargement and click on "view image." It will appear larger. Left click on it again for full screen.

The Polar Bear Journals, Ch. 13, Living with Bears

2012-01-30T00:21:00.000-08:00

Mike looked at the bedside clock and wondered what had awakened him at 3 AM. Usually he slept through the night, so this was odd. He lay in bed, listening for any clue, anything out of the ordinary noises in his home.

All seemed well. No sirens, no smoke alarm, nothing. He rolled over, facing the window, to go back to sleep.

Staring at him through thin, breakable glass was a huge polar bear.

Such is life in Churchill, Manitoba, on the western shore of Hudson Bay, where some 900 polar bears are known to live. Changing weather has brought change for the great white bears. The ice goes out sooner in summer and forms later in winter, leaving the bears increasingly shore-bound and without access to the ringed seals that are their primary diet.

It also gives them more opportunities to wander into town in search of food, which is not a good thing for the people who live in Churchill as the polar bear is the largest land-dwelling carnivore known to stalk humans. Adult male bears can weigh three-quarters of a ton.

Mike’s story didn’t end with the bear strolling away from his bedroom window. As does everyone in Churchill who encounters a bear, Mike immediately phoned the 24-hour hot line and reported a bear in town. After convincing the responding officer that there really was a bear outside his house, Mike eventually went back to sleep, confident the patrol would chase the bear back onto to the tundra.

The next morning Mike stopped by the local café.

“Seen any more pink bears?” someone asked. At first Mike thought they were teasing him about seeing “pink bears,” a Churchill equivalent to pink elephants. Then he heard the rest of the story.

When the peeping bear left Mike’s, it wandered across town near the grain terminal. Along the way, it wrenched a fire extinguisher off its wall mount, puncturing the hose in the process. When conservation officers tracked the bear’s path, they came across the result—the wall where the extinguisher had been mounted was covered in the pink contents of the extinguisher, perfectly outlining the polar bear.

And pink tracks led revealed the bear’s route out of town.

“Mike” is Mike Goodyear, the executive director of the Churchill Northern Studies Centre located a few miles out of Churchill proper. He is also a fine ambassador on behalf of the bears. When asked if he isn’t concerned about running into bears when he jogs or bikes out of town, which is patrolled constantly for bears, Mike responds, “I’m more concerned about stroke and heart attack being the number one cause of death in men over 35.”

And so it is with people who live in bear country. They are always aware of the possibility of sudden bear encounters. They go about their lives as normally as anyone else, but always aware, always adapted to living with bears.

The last fatal bear encounter in Churchill was more than 25 years ago when a man walking home one night rummaged through the ruins of a hotel that had recently burned. He found still edible meat in the restaurant’s freezers, and loaded up his pockets.

Shortly afterwards, his cries were heard and residents rushed out and killed the polar bear that was savaging the victim. It was, unfortunately, not in time to save the man who had filled his pockets with meat. The bear’s tracks showed it had stalked the man through town and then attacked.

For now, the people of Churchill have a tenuous working relationship with the bears. They are, after all, what brings the influx of tourism to that part of the country, and tourism means jobs. During the summer, the mouth of the Churchill River can be filled with thousands of beluga whales gathering there to calve, and the tundra is covered with wildflowers.

While spotting polar bears in the summer is “iffy” because they tend to roam far inland, it isn’t impossible to encounter the occasional bear. It’s during late October and early to mid-November that the animals gather along the shore of Hudson Bay near Churchill, the place where ice usually forms first.

Arctic fox.

At these times, the tundra in the Wapusk National Park can seem like a vast wildlife theme park. Snowy owls, white Arctic fox, caribou, game birds and birds of prey also live on the sparsely-treed land. These creatures are perfectly suited for the harsh conditions of subsisting in the north, as are the bears.

Polar bear print cast.

Bear's hind foot.

Huge feet act like snowshoes, spreading the bear’s weight and enabling it to walk on barely frozen ice, the same ice that Mike attempted to walk on and found himself in cold water up to his knees. Small ears prevent freezing, and the bears’ profiles are perfect for reaching into a seal’s breathing hole in thick ice and grabbing it.

Powerful jaws kill the seal immediately and enable it to pull the fat, rotund seal through the small breathing hole. So well insulating is the bear’s thick fur that infra-red monitoring of a bear picks up only the heat transferred to the surface where the bear stepped. It cannot detect heat escaping from the rest of the bear.

This is fine when the bear is on the Arctic ice, yet with warming conditions forcing the bears onto land for longer periods, further stresses the animals.

But it takes only one look into the eyes of a hungry white bear to dispel any notions of Disneyland. Cute, white, and fuzzy aside, these are hungry predators, with tourists and residents alike below them on the food chain.

What's the Haps?

2012-01-29T00:58:00.000-08:00

I don't have anything to say.

I'll let these photos tell you what's been going on around here:

Know what caused this? No, the rails around my castle aren't crenellated.

Here's another view:

Those depressions were made by magpies landing in the snow on top of the hand rails before flying to the bird feeder. (Can you say "Cabin fever?" Doesn't take much to entertain me.)

Here's something that's been going on a lot around here, at $87 a pop:

That car port opening is 12 feet high. That is not a toy front end loader.

Once in a while when it isn't snowing:

Today's high temperature:

Last night's low temperature:

The temperature right now:

Now go back and look at those temperatures again. This time, notice the thick black bar on the left. That means below zero, not below freezing. In other words, minus 20 is 52 degrees below the freezing point of water, which is 32 degrees F. This explanation is for benefit of all you southerners who have never felt anything colder than ice cream.

Can't think of anything else to say other than I have been glued to the chair in my loft doing busy work and trying to learn Windows 7. My PC with XP is so slow, I'll die of old age before I can finish my projects. The laptop is twenty times faster, but figuring out the new formatting method is driving me crazy (-er than I already am).

Lots and lots and lots of expensive busy work....

Life in Alaska

2012-01-25T22:50:00.000-08:00

I was in Seward this evening and left there about 7 PM. I passed one car about 12 miles out of Seward and met six vehicles during the 36 mile drive home.

Dang! If I'd known there was going to be so much traffic, I'd have stayed home.

There are heroes and then there are Angels

2012-01-23T14:54:00.000-08:00

There are heroes and then there are heroes. I’m pretty sure there were many when that clumsy, otherwise occupied cruise ship captain ran his behemoth ship onto the rocks near the Italian island of Giglio. (Doesn’t that word bring “gigolo” to mind?)

And then:

In this corner there’s Dorothea, all of five feet tall and weighing in at 97 lbs. In the other corner is a moose, five feet tall at the shoulder and weighing in at half a ton, give or take a hundred pounds.

Dorothea was sitting in her pickup truck at the Willow airstrip, waiting for her husband to return from a walk with their two Golden Retrievers, when she heard the dogs barking furiously.

She saw the moose apparently attacking the older dog, 12 year old Fellar. Three year old Tut was barking and nipping at the moose’s hind legs. She ran towards the moose, which turned towards her to attack. She backed off and the moose returned to its previous victim.

She went back to the truck and grabbed a grain scoop (they are excellent snow shovels) and walked back to the moose, all the while yelling for her husband George, who was nowhere in sight, to come and help. Dorothea whacked the moose a few times with the shovel before it left.

That’s when she realized that the old dog hadn’t been the moose’s victim. It was her 82 year old husband George, who had dived into deep snow in an attempt to escape the moose.

This is not Dorothea's moose. This is a moose that was in my yard. I put it here so you can imagine the damage those hooves can do.

Oh, Dorothea, by the way, is 85. And it turns out both of them are famous in their part of Alaska.

You can read more about this event at www.adn.com. George is recuperating in the hospital in Anchorage from a severe gash on his head and other owies and ouches...

Here’s another heroine. Or is it “hero” in our overly politically correct world?

The snow that blanketed the Seattle area evoked nostalgia in a friend of mine who lives south of that metropolis. Shirley donned every piece of cold weather gear she could find and went outside into her yard.

Then she laid down in the snow and……..

(wait for it)………

made a snow angel!*

Why is she a hero?

Listen, folks. She’s older than I am. How in the heck did she get up and still leave the imprint of an angel in the snow? If I tried that, the impression would look like a train wreck. Which, come to think of it, accurately describes the hole in deep snow when I fell as I was snowshoeing to the pump house to repair an electrical problem.

And speaking of snow angels….

I made soup stock yesterday from smoked ham hocks, then put pieces of the hock fat out by the bird feeder. This morning, in the snow on my front deck, was a snow angel left by a magpie:

*http://rilly-momsnotepad.blogspot.com/2012/01/youre-never-too-old.html

To Write or Not to Write

2012-01-23T02:31:00.000-08:00

Is there anything sadder, I ask,
Penning limericks to make the time pass?
You spend all the day
with rhymes the right way,
And they only wind up in the trash.

How to Start a Vehicle during an Alaskan Winter, circa 1950s

2012-01-21T15:52:00.000-08:00

The writing prompt:

“Greta slammed the door on her 1952 GMC truck and then kicked it for good measure.”

The result:

“Stupid truck!” she yelled. “What’s the matter with you, anyway? It’s only 35 below!”

She double-checked the connection between the truck’s headbolt heater and the extension cord, walked back up the trail to the cabin, and slammed that door as well. She threw her beaver fur-trimmed seal skin hat on the couch and kicked off the heavy white Army surplus bunny boots. Leaving her parka on, she walked to the kitchen sink and turned on the hot water faucet.

Greta waited until hot water ran from the tap. She took the bar of Lava soap from its dish and started scrubbing oil stains from her hands. “Darn truck won’t start even after I drained its oil and kept it warm inside all night,” she complained out loud, as if the gritty soap could do anything about it but empathize in silence.

She dried her hands on a towel and poured another cup of coffee from the drip pot on the oil-barrel wood stove. Setting the mug on the flat plate welded to the top of the stove, she added a couple sticks of split birch to the fire. She took her mug of steaming coffee and stood at the front window, making sure the truck could see her.

Once again she set down the mug, this time on the wide spruce window sill. She slowly took off her down parka, making a show of the process so the truck would notice her short-sleeved shirt. She picked up the mug and took a sip of coffee.

Bunny boots

Fifteen minutes later, she donned all the cold weather gear and trudged down to the truck. She put a foot against the space between the truck cab and the truck bed and pulled on the door handle until the frozen door opened, then fingered the latching mechanism on the door so it would close instead of banging against the latch, and got in the truck. She pulled the choke out three feet or so, slipped off the right bunny boot so her foot would fit on the throttle pedal, and pumped the pedal five or six times.

She turned the key.

“Ernfff,” said the truck. "Nnnfff."

“You’re gonna make me late for work,” she said. By this time, her breath had frosted the windows inside so she couldn’t see out. Now she’d have to scrape ice inside and out, she thought.

She turned the key again, pumping the throttle pedal four more times.

“Click,” said the starter.

Greta got out of the Jimmy and grabbed the battery cables from behind the seat. She opened the hood and hooked up the cables, then headed back to the cabin for the spare battery. She glanced at the 1947 Studebaker pickup her dad had given her.

Nah, she thought. I haven’t started it for three years.

She went back to the cabin, doffed the boots and hat, and poured another mug of coffee. This time she added a healthy dollop of Borden’s canned evaporated milk to take the edge off the strong coffee.

Once again she stood in the big front window so the truck could she her while she drank her Sourdough latte. Ten minutes later, again clad in fur and down and rubber, she lugged the heavy battery down the path to the waiting truck.

She thought she heard a snicker from the dog lot. No, said thought. Dogs can’t laugh. Must have been a raven or a magpie.

She hooked up the other ends of the jumper cables to the proper anodes and got in the truck.

Choke out? Check.

Gas? (pump, pump, pump) Check.

Key? Check.

“NNNNNNNNRRRRRRRRRrrrrrrrrrrr…rrr…..rrr…rr..nn….n,” said the truck, but it still wouldn’t start. She pumped the throttle a few more times and turned the key. “Click,” said the truck.

Greta got out and slammed the truck’s door. This time she kicked it twice.

She walked over to the old Studebaker, pried open the frozen door with a tire iron, and got in. Again with the choke, again with the throttle pedal, again with key.

”VVVVROOOOMMMM!!” said the Studebaker.

“Oh, for Pete’s sakes,” said Greta. She got out and judged how much time it would take to shovel all the snow away from the truck so she could get out of the driveway.

Then she walked over to the wood shed beside the cabin, grabbed a handful of harnesses off the wood peg, and walked to the dog lot.

“AHHHHHHHHHHHWOOOOOOOOOOOO,” howled the dogs, which translated from Husky meant “We’re going for a run!”

And not a snicker was heard from any one of them.

Stud Muffin

2012-01-20T21:31:00.000-08:00

Made a quick trip into Anchorage today. I was halfway there and the sun still wasn't above the mountains.

Got my visits and errands done and headed home. This is what I came across a few miles out of Anchorage.

I knew right away what was happening, so I pulled over and parked, too.

I walked back to here and, sure enough, there he was.

Basking in the late afternoon sunshine, chewing his cud......

And, I swear, showing off those magnificent horns....

Turning his head this way and that, showing off his best side...

Yeah, he says. When you're the stud muffin of the Rainbow protected Dall Sheep herd, ya know when ya got it.

Time out for Fun

2012-01-20T01:14:00.000-08:00

I've been working too hard lately, on both a time-consuming, tedious, but ultimately rewarding project, and in trying to keep up with the curve balls this minus 25 weather keeps throwing at me.

Now it's time for some fun. I hope I don't regret this in the morning.

Three of a Kind isn't a Full House

There once was a ruler called Nero,

Who’s said to have played on his fiddle,

Around him Rome burned,

And duties he spurned,

Which the people considered most crim’nal.

There once was a despotic dame,

Marie Antoinette was her name,

When told there’s no bread,

She said “cake” instead,

Now the loss of her head is her fame.

There once was man named Barack,

Whose country had run off the track.

He went on vacation

To the people’s vexation,

And shook hands with a mouse to distract.*

(This is in reference to the recent "promote tourism" trip to Disney World in Florida and the big-eared, shoe-wearing mouse of fame.) Didn't he just get back from Hawaii?

I know these don't exactly follow traditional limerick form. Rhyming "Nero" with "fiddle?" Yet, it seems to work. And in the last one, six syllables instead of five for the two B lines? Oh, well, fun was the intent and fun was had.

Real or Not?

2012-01-18T01:42:00.000-08:00

You will swear these are paintings and not photographs, but my nephew Jason took these while he was skiing at Eaglecrest near Juneau, Alaska.

He said the lighting was crazy all day.

I believe him.

What Alaskan Kids Do When It's Twenty Below

2012-01-16T12:53:00.001-08:00

Long Eared Yuppy Ungulates

2012-01-15T15:02:00.000-08:00

(Scene: densely populated subdivision in Anchorage)

HALT! Who goes there?

YOU THERE with the big ears! Identify yourself.

Oh, you. I should have known.

You can always tell city moose from country moose.

Those city moose always go for the froo-froo ornamental foliage rather than that delicious birch tree right next to it.

A Four Course Feast of Seasons, Course Four

2012-01-13T23:20:00.000-08:00

Course Four

Winter

(To enlarge these photos, click on a photo. That brings up a line of thumbnails, with one enlarged. RIGHT click on the enlargement, LEFT click on VIEW IMAGE. To enlarge to full screen, left click on that enlargement.)

Then surely winter is an ice cream dessert in pastels.

Sun dog.

A Four Course Feast of Seasons, Course Three

2012-01-12T23:37:00.000-08:00

Course Three

Autumn

(To enlarge these photos, click on photo. That brings up a line of thumbnails with one photo enlarged. RIGHT click on that photo, then click on VIEW IMAGE. Left click on that enlargement for full screen.)

And if autumn is a harvest buffet,

(to be continued)

True Life Rescue Dramas in Alaska

2012-01-10T15:33:00.000-08:00

I took this photo the evening of Jan. 8. Moonlight reflecting off the snow provided enough light. Of course, the tripod that had been under my nose for months was now hiding where I'd "put it away" and I couldn't find it.

As a result, there's bit of a blur from a hand-held camera with bare hands at 5 below zero.

But this post isn't about me taking photos. It's about some drama taking place right now in other parts of Alaska.

Closest to home is the tremendous snowfalls that continue to occur in Valdez and Cordova, towns that have their toes in the water of Prince William Sound and their backs against the mountains. It isn't unusual for these two towns to have lots of snow.

What is unusual is for that snow to accumulate as quickly as it has in the last few weeks, one huge wet dump after another. Valdez is used to coping with snow. It averages more than 300 inches a year. That's 25 feetm folks, and much of it stays until spring. The record year was 560 inches. That's 47 feet!

Cordova is used to lots of snow, too, but is getting plastered with wet, heavy snow, with some estimates of 10 feet in the last few weeks and 15 feet for this winter.

Last weekend's storm turned to rain and the existing snow soaked it up like a sponge, adding tremendous weight to snow on roofs. Seventy men and women from the Alaska National Guard landed in Cordova a couple days ago to help the town dig out before more roofs collapsed. Now there's a shortage of snow shovels. With none available from the big stores in Anchorage, town officials are looking to Outside stores for help.

Here's the address of reader-submitted photos from Valdez: http://www.adn.com/2012/01/06/2249732/january-valdez-snowstorm.html#id=2249729&view=large_view

And for photos from Cordova:

http://www.adn.com/2012/01/09/2254598/reader-photos-cordova-snow.html

There are some phenomenal photos there Well worth the time to look.

Now, farther north:

Photo of Russian tanker Renda as published in Anchorage Daily News. US Coast Guard photo.

The town of Nome, where the Iditarod sled dog race finishes on the western coast of Alaska, had to look outside the US for help in avoiding a fuel shortage. Northern Alaska is suffering one of the worst cold spells in memory. A ferocious storm last fall prevented the last fuel barge of the season from reaching Nome, and the town was faced with the possibility of having to bring in heating oil and gasoline by air.

The probability of nine dollar a gallon fuel staring them in the face, Nome looked for help from an unusual source: Russia. Specifically, the oil tanker Renda.

Weeks of negotiations passed before the ship was given special exemption from the Jones Act, a law that prohibits foreign registered vessels from sailing from one US port to another US port. This is why US cruise ships have to sail from Vancouver, Canada, to ports in Alaska.

The tanker picked up one million gallons of diesel fuel in South Korea, then sailed to Dutch Harbor in the Aleutian Chain of Alaska and on-loaded 300,000 gallons of gasoline. A hundred miles out of Dutch Harbor, bound for Nome, the tanker had to return to Dutch Harbor for a mechanical repair.

Three hundred miles from Nome, the tanker encountered ice. Now, with the US Coast Guard ice breaker Healy leading the way, the tanker is about a hundred miles from Nome. It is making around 5mph through ice as thick as three feet. The hope is that the two ships can make it all the way into Nome. There is some concern that the tanker might have to unload by laying fuel lines across the last mile of ice.

Now today, the farther-north villages of Noatak and Kobuk have run out of fuel. If you go to either of the links I've posted, you can look around the Anchorage Daily News site and find those stories.

Here's a link to more stories and photos about this amazing journey:

http://www.adn.com/2012/01/10/2256355/fuel-tanker-icebreaker-make-progress.html

Take the time to check out both of these stories. Just put on a heavy sweater or a jacket before you look at the photos.

As for me, another blizzard is whipping through the valley and I suspect that my neighbor's yard is free of snow because it's all over here in my driveway. I can't tell if we're getting new snow or not with the wind whipping around the 18 inches of powder that fell in the last two snowstorms. That's on top of the three feet of heavier snow that was already on the ground.

The last time I looked, there was a three-foot drift in front of my door. I didn't even bother looking for today's newspaper. I'm not leaving the house today. Nowhere to go, anyway. The Seward highway to Anchorage is closed because of zero visibility and avalanches.

Besides, I doubt I can get out of my own driveway. If the wind settles down, I might go out and take pictures. Don't count on it, though.

A Four Course Feast of Seasons, Course Two

2012-01-09T21:49:00.000-08:00

Course Two:

Summer

(To enlarge photos, click on photo. This brings up a strip of thumbnails with one enlarged.. RIGHT click on that photo and select VIEW IMAGE. Then, if you wish, left click on that enlargement for full screen.)

And if summer is a knock-your eyes out gourmand's smörgåsbord of variations on primary colors,

(to be continued)

A Four Course Feast of Seasons

2012-01-08T23:35:00.000-08:00

Course One:

Spring

(To enlarge these photos: Click on any photo. That will bring up a line of thumbnails and an enlargement of the clicked photo. RIGHT click on that enlargement, click on VIEW IMAGE. Then, left click on that enlargement for full screen.)

If spring is a tender hors d'oeuvres,

(to be continued)

A Teaser

2012-01-07T09:37:00.000-08:00

Not much time. Gotta run. Mail route today. Here's a teaser for later. This was the first of some awesome photos taken yesterday on the route.

Mile 52, Seward Highway

Let's Play Hide and Seek

2012-01-06T22:13:00.000-08:00

Can you see my newspaper? I couldn't until the third time I searched,

The edge of my driveway is on the left in this photo. The yellow thing is a tube in which the newspaper is supposed to be left for me. In a perfect world that is. I would need snowshoes to get the paper today. Thirty feet from the driveway, fifteen feet from the highway, and probably four feet of snow.

I reported it as a missed delivery. Why should "home delivery" involve a treasure hunt?

Did you find the paper? Look again:

See it yet? Okay, look right of the spruce trees, right of the cottonwood brush.

And no, when I'm standing near the newspaper tube I cannot see over the snow banks.

Just another day at Muskeg Manor

2012-01-05T20:46:00.000-08:00

My friends in Valdez are going to laugh at this. I can hear them now.

Yesterday. Clear and cold.

When I went to bed last night, it was 12 below zero with a brilliantly clear sky. An almost full moon reflecting off the snow provided enough light that, if I had been so inclined, I could have gone skiing. At 12 below, I was not so inclined. Instead, I inclined myself in my little nest in the living room with a nice fire in the wood stove.

When I got up this morning, something felt different.

It was. Very different.

Twenty above zero--32 degrees warmer--and snowing. I donned my outdoor gear and waded out to the end of the driveway where I commenced a fruitless search for the orange plastic sack containing the daily newspaper.

Here's a question for you: How does the newspaper delivery guy expect anyone to find a newspaper if he throws it on the ground during a snowstorm?


This is the end of my driveway as seen over the hood of my truck as I approach the highway. The yellow thing is a newspaper tube, where my newspaper NEVER is placed.

I have no answer for that, but I do have a counter response. If I can't find it, I call it in as "missed delivery." I've heard it costs the guy $5 for every missed delivery. For that I feel badly, but with a yellow newspaper tube at the end of my drive, I don't feel "home delivery" should involve a treasure hunt.

Early afternoon I decided to go to the post office and the dump so I donned all that winter gear again (a fleece jacket and low waterproof boots) and headed out in four-wheel drive.

In downtown Moose Pass, the telephone guys were knocking snow off the phone lines before they sagged low enough to be caught by a passing truck. This has happened a couple times in the last month that I know about.

Then I headed five miles south to the dump, which really isn't a dump but a site that holds large roll-off containers in which we place our garbage for transfer to a facility in Soldotna.

Trail River, just an open spot through the middle.

No place for the snowplows to put the snow.

Love it when the trees are bent like this.

Then, mission accomplished, I headed for home and snow-related chores.

Specfically, finish shoveling the snow off the wood shed roof before it falls down. I'd previously done the front half. In the rear, which you can't see from this angle, the snow was four feet deep. As I worked, I could hear avalanches coming down the mountains, but couldn't see them because it was snowing.

Oh. Did I fail to mention it was snowing?

Chores all done (actually, I was done before the chores were), I retreated to the house and that aforementioned cozy nest in the living room and a fire in the wood stove.

I am not shoveling the snow off my decks this year.

I figure I can enjoy the new rails from the inside.

Now, this is the reason my friends in Valdez (pronounced val-DEEZ) will laugh: they have already gotten two feet of snow and are expecting lots more from this storm. Valdez AVERAGES more than 300 inches of snow every year, with the record being 560 inches.

The 14 inches that fell here today would be considered a "dusting" in Valdez.

Oh, hey. Need some more of this? C'mon, snuggle up.

Who am I to Question Why?

2012-01-05T00:51:00.000-08:00

Who am I to question why a poem wants to be

free to run about and play, not locked in symmetry?

Forget about the proper form, the feet and meter verse,

complaints it doesn’t scan and such. I don’t write poetry.

I simply let the words go loose to wander where they may,

touch a spot, move over there, take a hike and so.

There’s magic in the scenery when words are free to go

any where they want to be and tell us what they see.

Keep your sonnets, villanelles, triolets, and such,

they’re too much like doing math, their patterns carved in rock.

Each word chosen with such care, it loses all its joy,

dragged by serif, stuck in line, like sinner in a corner.

Let them run about, I say, though it’s so hard to do

with feet and meter pounded in when I was in high school.

But who am I to question why a poem wants to soar

about the sky and through the clouds and surf a moonbeam’s ray?

A well-thumbed book sits on a shelf with rhymes for ev’ry sound,

another way to capture words and keep them on a page.

But who am I to question why a poem wants to fly?

I’ll sit back and watch the show, ‘cause I don’t write poetry.

Things Nature

2012-01-03T00:03:00.000-08:00

Environmental artist and landscape designer Sandra Adams once said, “The essence of nature can be found in all things." I think she's onto something there.

Take, for instance, this peculiar plant that I noticed for the first time a couple years ago. I have no idea what it is, but it is suddenly prolific in this area.

I photographed it before it had fully "bloomed," or whatever it is it's doing.

Now, to illustrate Sandra Adam's point, take a look at this photo of a neighbor's fireworks on New Year's Eve.

Yesterday, I was taking pictures of the pink ribbons across the sky...

That's a half moon up there.

and a pink sunset,

I intentionally framed this photo with the icicles in it.

when I happened to glance at the bird feeder on my front deck. It's difficult to get a crisp shot of a woodpecker through two layers of glass with film in between, and avoid the reflections in the glass. Also because the bird rarely stopped moving.


First time ever for a woodpecker at the feeder.

It was after the layer of suet that covered this suet/seed block.

Resolutions, Schmezolutions

2012-01-01T22:19:00.000-08:00

My New Year’s resolutions didn’t last through the day. By mid-afternoon, I’d broken most of them so I ditched the rest. It’s a holiday, after all.

And, since Monday is a holiday, too, I probably won’t try to keep them then either.

First resolution: Wake up earlier.

I woke up earlier. Yes! I was off to a great start. Then I fell asleep again and slept for another hour.

Second resolution: Do something about the winter hibernation stores (fat) I accumulated this fall.

Well, once the cream cheese has been opened, you know it won’t keep. And why clutter up the refrigerator with a large jar containing only a little olive tapenade? And, those soft molasses cookies that jumped into my grocery cart of their own accord taste so yummy with a mandarin orange.

Third resolution: Do a little housework every day.

Does boiling the turkey carcass count? The shredded meat made such a lovely turkey salad sandwich filling.

Fourth resolution: Walk on the treadmill every day.

My intentions were good; I took a nap instead.

Fifth resolution: Go to bed earlier.

This one I think I can keep.

One out of five isn't bad. For a holiday.

(I'm going to post these shots of my neighbor's fireworks again just because it's the first time I've successfully been able to photograph them. Plus, it was five below zero and I was standing outside with a thin sweater and bare hands, so enjoy them! On fireworks mode, the shutter stays open a lo-o-o-o-ong time and I had to hold it real still.)

My Toast for You

2011-12-31T20:41:00.000-08:00

New Year’s Eve Toast

A cask of Amontillado may be all we need

To ensure our happiness in the coming New Year,

But with honor and honesty in every deed,

We can look at our face in the morning mirror.

May the wind blow softer as it passes your house,

May your thermometer rise to the highest around,

May the blocks of your igloo be perfectly shaped,

And the weight of the snow never bring them all down.

May the swallows choose your home to spend their vacations,

May moose cross your path as you hunt in the fall,

May your woodshed be filled with spruce, birch and hemlock,

May your home ring with laughter, Happy New Year to all.

Salute to the Sun

2011-12-31T15:38:00.000-08:00

Perhaps it's that I live in a valley with mountains on all sides and lose direct sunlight from mid-November through mid-February.

Perhaps, like Gerri in the photo below, warm-blooded creatures seek out the sun, even if it's the only sunbeam in the room.

Perhaps it's something else, something that kindles bewitching and commanding lighting conditions.

For whatever the reason, I could not keep my hands off the camera when the winter sun, during the shortest days of the year, tried to burn through fog, mist, and low-lying clouds.

From the frozen marshes at the far end of Turnagain Arm...

above the slack tides of the arm....

the insipid winter sun tried....

and failed to burn through the fog before it settled below the mountain peaks.

Not until it was time to set did the sun penetrate beneath the cloud layer that covered Anchorage....

blinding any drivers unlucky enough to have to drive in that direction.

But not for long, because I climbed the circular on-ramp and headed north, away from the sun.

Away from the sun and its welcome glory, but not into the cold of a short winter day, because at the end of my excursion into the big city Friday afternoon, something marvelous and exuberant and joyous awaited me.

It was so worth making my second trip to Anchorage in one week, so worth the ice-covered roads, so worth the dangerous intersections in the city, so worth the heavy traffic in the city, so worth dodging moose on the roads, so worth gasoline at $3.76 a gallon.

Worth absolutely everything above to hear the Christmas music of Mannheim Steamroller!

Happy New Year Everyone!!!

With love and hugs from Gully

Words

2011-12-29T22:27:00.000-08:00

Words. Thousands of words. Thousands and thousands and thousands of word.

I love taking photos in fog and mist. Wonderful things happen.

Misty moon.

Christmas Day Drive

2011-12-27T21:42:00.000-08:00

I left at 1 PM Christmas day for Soldotna, a drive that should take about an hour and a half through the Kenai Mountains in Cooper Landing and the vast muskeg and taiga forest of the Kenai National Wildlife Refuge. That's its newer name. It used to be the Kenai Moose Range.

We who have been here a long time still call it the Kenai Burn because of a wild fire that ravaged the area in the 1950s.

Cooper Landing is beautiful. The unusual aqua color of the lake and river enchants everyone who sees it.

The lighting that day was perfect for photography. I used to think good photos were taken only on sunny days with few clouds. I've learned better, as this photo of a mountain shrouded in fog and mist shows.

A few miles farther, another bend in the river.

I've never cared for this part of the Kenai Peninsula, these rolling flatlands. Give me mountains instead. Nevertheless, I left early because I knew I would be stopping often to take photos. It wasn't long before I made that first stop to capture the aqua water of Kenai River surrounded by frosted trees.

Once I entered the Kenai Burn, I was on extreme alert, rather than just high alert. Very soon, I saw what I'd been expecting.

Sorry about the out of focus picture. I was still moving when I shot this.

The two calves joined mom on the side of the road to nosh on birch and willow.

The calves soon tired of this spot and looked for greener pastures.

And of course, those pastures were back across the highway.

The second calf followed....

This calf is not full grown. Notice how much taller it is than the vehicle, and how it could be scooped up onto the hood of the car if it were hit. The hood, of course, would send it right into the windshield and then into the laps of the front seat passengers.

Mom looked on in exasperation.

It was a matter of time before mom and kids would be reunited on one side of the road or the other, so I drove on, flashing my lights to warn on-coming traffic.

The Kenai Mountains in Cooper Landing were in my rear view mirror and I drove across the Burn.

At Moose River, the sun was heading for the horizon and the lighting was phenomenal.

That evening, I drove through the town of Soldotna on my way home, enjoying the lighted decorations fastened to light stanchions.

Deep in the valley with the Kenai River on one side and mountains on both sides, I saw another moose. This one was standing on the snow bank, waiting for me and the vehicle behind me to pass so it could cross the road. They aren't always that polite, or road-savvy. Far too many times I've had them walk out in front of me.

Though I couldn't see the moose until I was right next to it, I knew it was there. My Moose-dar was fully operational. It's something you learn after many years of driving these highways.

Black on White

2011-12-27T13:49:00.000-08:00

Bald eagle high in a cottonwood tree on a bend of the Kenai River in Cooper Landing. You almost always find eagles in these trees.

Black-billed magpie huddled in the snow on my deck rails.

And a close-up/ Note the blue on the wing.

He was checking out the bird feeder on the front deck.

Uh-Oh

2011-12-26T13:35:00.000-08:00

This doesn't look good.

Could it be?

Runaway team?

End of the line?

Or something more nefarious?

Just as I thought.

No sign of a gang line, no traces, no brake.

Nothing.

It's been stripped clean.

Ah HA!

He traded it all in on snow machines.

Now what are the reindeer going to do?

Oh, nooooooo! Say it ain't so!!!

Merry Christmas

2011-12-24T20:59:00.000-08:00

On Dec. 24:

Blueberry pie for breakfast at my neighbors and the blueberries were from our property.

A cream cheese and black olive sandwich for lunch at home (and all the ingredients were from Costco).

Alaskan king crab for dinner at my other neighbors, with a grapefruit, avocado, jicama, lettuce, and cilantro salad.

And a yet another neighbor couple came by with their seven kids, gave me hugs, a bag of cookies, and serenaded me with "Silent Night."

Does it get any better than this?

Impossible.

♫ ♫ Please, Santa ♫ ♫

2011-12-23T14:57:00.000-08:00

(I got the melody to “Have a Holly, Jolly Christmas” stuck in my head, and couldn’t remember the title or the original words, so I made up my own.)

Please, Santa,

Don’t come down my chimney,

I’m afraid that you will fall,

The pitch is steep, the snow so deep,

And the rooftop is so tall.

I’ll leave the side door open.

You’d best come in that way.

It’s closer to the Christmas tree,

And less liability.

Please Santa,

Don’t come down my chimney,

It’s a woodstove, don’t you know,

There’s a handle for to seal it well

And the pipe is very small.

There’s a catalytic converter

To burn the smoke away.

It’s not there to break your fall,

But because of EPA.

Please, Santa,

Don’t come down my chimney,

I’m afraid that you’ll get stuck.

The fire’s hot, the coals are deep,

And screams disturb my sleep.

I didn’t leave the milk out,

It’s best there in the fridge,

‘Cause the FDA would sue my butt

If warm milk made you sick.

Please, Santa,

Don’t come down my chimney,

And leave your pipe at home

We all know your second hand smoke

Will shorten my life span.

Methodist Church

There are hand wipes in the entry,

I insist you use a few

So you don’t leave the germs that spread

That terrible swine flu.

Please, Santa,

Don’t come down my chimney

Before you’ve read my blog

It’s there I left my Christmas list

Of all the things I wish.

I put away the cookies

That were on the side table,

Lest the IRS says they’re fringe benefits

And makes them taxable.

Please, Santa,

Don’t come down my chimney

And about your reindeer team?

It’s the methane gas that they all pass

And global warming.

Inn at Tern Lake

I’ll leave a cup of chocolate,

But it won’t stay hot too long

You can nuke it in the microwave,

If you like it just that way.

Please, Santa,

Don’t come down my chimney,

Just mail my gifts to me.

I’ll pick them up and spread them ‘round

My plastic Christmas tree.

Did Jeff Foxworthy really say this?

2011-12-22T14:41:00.000-08:00

This was re-posted on a friend's Facebook page. I don't know if Jeff Foxworthy really wrote it or note, but it's so spot on, I thought I'd share it. You know Jeff Foxworthy, don't you? He of, "You might be a redneck if..."

What Jeff Foxworthy has to say about Alaskans:

If someone in a Home Depot store offers you assistance and he doesn't work there, you may live in Alaska.

If you've worn shorts and a parka at the same time, you may live in Alaska.

If you've had a lengthy telephone conversation with someone who dialed a wrong number, you may live in Alaska.

If you measure distance in hours, you may live in Alaska.

If you know several people who have hit a moose more than once, you may live in Alaska.

If you have switched from 'heat' to 'A/C' in the same day and back again, you may live in Alaska. (Okay, this one I question. I don't know anyone who has air conditioning. We just open windows.)

If you can drive 75 mph through 2 feet of snow during a raging blizzard without flinching, you may live in Alaska.

If you install security lights on your house and garage, but leave both unlocked, you may live in Alaska.

If you carry jumpers in your car and your wife knows how to use them, you may live in Alaska. (Along with a tow strap, emergency fusees, and blankets.)

If you design your kid's Halloween costume to fit over a snowsuit, you may live in Alaska.

If the speed limit on the highway is 55 mph -- you're going 80 and everybody is passing you, you may live in Alaska.

If driving is better in the winter because the potholes are filled with snow, you may live in Alaska.

If you know all 4 seasons: almost winter, winter, still winter and road construction, you may live in Alaska.

If you have more miles on your snow blower than your car, you may live in Alaska.

If you find 10 degrees 'a little chilly', you may live in Alaska.

If you actually understand these jokes, you definitely live in Alaska

Roadside Hazards

2011-12-21T22:27:00.000-08:00

I had something I really ~~needed~~ wanted to do in Anchorage today, something that I required finishing and in the mail in time for Christmas.

But, the electricity was still out from Tuesday mid-afternoon and I didn't want to leave the house unattended because it might cool off too much for that green and yellow (and red and pink and orange and blue and indigo and aqua and peach) dynamo I call Pablo. So, when it was still out at 4 a.m., I decided I would stay home and keep feeding the woodstove.

Then, at ten after 11, the power came back on and I was out of the house and on my way to the big city by 11:30.

Sunshine at 11:30 on the shortest day of the year. You can tell the sun doesn't get very high in the sky. Tern Lake is in shadow because the sun doesn't get over top of the 4000 foot mountains.

The weather couldn't have been nicer--clear, sunny and about 20 degrees. The road surface was sheer ice, but cold ice which isn't as slippery as warm ice.

I haven't been in this direction since the last few storms hit was surprised that the snow banks on the highway shoulders were four feet high, but seemed about the same in Turnagain Pass, where it usually snows much more.

The gray line through the middle of the snowbank on the right is the top of the guardrail. The highway guys use a snowblower to clear the road in this area, so the snowbank is mostly natural snowfall.

And driving down to saltwater at the bottom of the Pass, there's always this spectacular sight. That's Twenty Mile Glacier in River in the far distance. The water is Turnagain Arm (remember Capt Cook and William Bligh?).

Ah, but the real treasure was at Mile 105. Twenty feet off the edge of the highway was this sight:

It's a Dall Sheep ram. I think he's be considered a full curl if the near tip of his horn wasn't broken off. Hard to say from this angle. If I'm not mistaken, the tip has to reach the height of the eye to be considered a full curl.

I was told there's a natural salt lick right in this spot and this is why the sheep come down off the mountain. I could see him licking something and thought I saw liquid.

The sheep are protected in this area, not subject to hunting. They couldn't care less about the people who stop to watch and photograph them.

I got my chores done in town, got things in the mail, and called my neighbors to see if the power was still on. The answer was no. It hadn't stayed on after I left for Anchorage.

Imagining a ticked off parrot at home, I dropped all the other errands on my list and headed south. This is the way the story ends: the house was at 68.5 degrees, which is where I usually keep it. Pablo was angry about me being gone, but warm. A peanut M&M got him over his mad. He did require some extra cuddling, though.

Oh, What a Lovely Drive to Seward Today

2011-12-20T16:19:00.000-08:00

Not much in the way of scenery, though. Good thing I know the road.

Got home just in time for the power to go out. Here we go again.

Second Guessing

2011-12-19T13:40:00.000-08:00

I bit a bullet a few nights ago. In fact, I bit a couple bandoliers full of bullets. Metaphorically speaking, that is.

I signed up for a trip next November that will retrace Ernest Shackleton's voyage in the Endurance to Antarctica. If you haven't read that book, Endurance, do so post haste. It's one of the world's great adventure tales.

The next day I was quaking with the enormity of what I had committed myself to. I was second-guessing myself, having buyer's remorse, but oddly excited by the whole idea. I've been a Shackleton aficianado for many, many years.

Just one of the many piles of snow in my yard.

The middle of the afternoon, I drove into Moose Pass to the post office. On the return trip, I trying to calculate how many trips to Hawaii I could make for the cost of the Antarctica voyage.

Hawaii. Warm. No weekly blizzards and power outages. Snokeling and SCUBA diving. Exotic flowers. Vegging out poolside. Nothing to do but bake in the sun and read.

There was a long, pink box waiting on the doorstep for me when I got home.

A long, pink box full of exotic flowers and foliage from Hawaii. Instead of me going to Hawaii, Hawaii came to me.

I quit worrying about the expense of retracing Shackleton's expedition. C'est la vie. Some things are just meant to be.

Thank you, Bruce and Betsey.

With a Song in My Head

2011-12-14T23:57:00.000-08:00

I watched Josh Krajcik sing on the X Factor last night and I've had his second song stuck in my head ever since:

I'll stand before the Lord of Song
With nothing on my tongue but Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah

(Be sure to enlarge this one to see what's hiding in the mist.)

Hallelujah, Hallelujah

(Snowshoe hare tracks crisscrossed by vole tracks on my doorstep.)

Hallelujah, Hallelujah

Hal-le-lu-u-u-u-u-u-jah...

Leonard Cohen lyrics

(To fully appreciate these photos, click on one. That will bring up a strip of thumbnails. Click on a thumbnail to enlarge, then RIGHT click to get menu. Click on VIEW IMAGE and when the photo enlarges, click on it once more for full screen.)

The Past Couple Days

2011-12-13T14:53:00.000-08:00

Well. That was fun.

It all began Sunday around noon, just as the Packers' game was about to start. The thermometer read 33.3 degrees F and the wind was blowing from the east. I watched chickadees, nuthatches and pine grosbeaks quartering into the wind to get to the bird feeder.

I was all settled down in the living room, a nice warm fire in the wood stove, ready to switch back and forth between the Packers and their winning season and the Broncos with their winning quarterback.

Then, a message on the TV screen. My receiver had lost contact with the satellite. I looked outside. No more birds, either.

Yeah. That would do it. Oh, well. I'll get on the computer for a while and maybe the receiver can get in contact before the games are over.

I was just about to leave a message on Facebook when the power blinked. And again. And again. I was trying to shut down the computer when the power went out for good.

The rest of Sunday was perfect for doing anything you wanted, as long as it didn't involve going out of doors or required electricity. It was a whipper-snapper of a storm--trees whipping back and forth and branches and trunks snapping off. I heard later there were wind gusts close to 90 mph.

Heavy, wet snow plastered itself to the east side of everything it ran into. Then, as the storm blew itself out and the temperature dropped, that wet snow froze solid.

The storm knocked out electricity in Moose Pass, Cooper Landing, Hope, Girdwood, and much of the Hillside above Anchorage. Mine didn't come back on until 4:30 this morning, or 40 hours later.

Now I don't have any excuses not to do the housework I had planned to do Sunday during commercials in the football games.

After the storm. Note the snow plastered on one side only. That bright light in the lower right is the front end loader clearing my driveway.

The morning after. Note the black spruce saplings bent over with the weight of wet snow now frozen to them, while the larger white spruce in the background are fine.

The Grotto

2011-12-10T15:33:00.000-08:00

About twenty miles south of Anchorage on the Seward Highway, which is the only highway that leads south of the largest city in Alaska, is a place known as The Grotto. It's really just an indentation in the mountainside, overhung with cottonwood branches, with water that runs year-round down its face.

In the summer, it's a wall of small waterfalls, but in the winter it becomes an icefall wonder.

I've left the truck in the photo for size perspective.

Crammed in between the walls of The Grotto and the waters of Turnagain Arm, are the tracks of the Alaska Railroad and the two-lane Alaska Scenic Highway, National Scenic Byway, All American Road known as the Seward Highway. Above The Grotto in the woods is an historic trail that once saw dog teams running back and forth from Seward to Anchorage.

The Grotto has been such a favorite place along this stretch of scenic road that when construction projects up-graded the highway some years back, protection of The Grotto was deemed important. The Grotto lost some of its depth, but it's still there.

A mile north, Dall sheep roam across the mountain, often coming right down to the shoulders of the highway as more traffic than this road was ever designed for whizzes past.

Something needs to be done to improve safety along the highway, and many suggestions have been offered. Other than declaring a portion of the highway as a safety corridor with double traffic fines, no realistic, affordable solution has been implemented thus far. Most of the accidents along here tend to be head-on collisions, indicating the scenery itself might take a driver's attention away from the road.

Since its completion in 1951, The Grotto has charmed thousands of people in both summer and winter.

The huge waist-high piles at the base is ice that lost its grip and fallen.

In 1778, Sailing Master William Bligh, he who would later become notorious because of a mutiny aboard his Bounty, sailed past this area in a small boat while Captain James Cook waited in deeper waters on the Resolution. Bligh, having already explored the northern fork of the inlet that would be named after Cook, determined (erroneously) that this southern fork also was the mouth of a large river and that they must "turn again" in their search for the fabled Northwest Passage.

A century later, explorers of a different kind traveled this area. They were known as prospectors and a minor gold rush resulted in small settlements throughout the area.

Today, The Grotto enchants many who drive past oblivious to the history of the area. They head to the ski slopes of Alyeska Resort, the saltwater and rivers of the Kenai Peninsula, rich in salmon and trout and halibut, and the clam beds of the inlet itself.

Pearl Harbor Day

2011-12-07T13:58:00.000-08:00

Seventy years. Remember.

The Polar Bear Journals, Ch. 12, The Aftermath

2011-12-06T00:27:00.000-08:00

Part Two

The Aftermath

(To enlarge these photos: Click on any photo. That will bring up a screen with photo thumbnails in a row. Click on one to enlarge. When it appears, RIGHT click on the enlargement and click on VIEW IMAGE. It will enlarge more. Click on it again and it will fill the screen.)

Cast of a polar bear print.

Tundra Buggy driver Marcus can stand it no longer. He wants to reposition the bus, so we are called back inside as he will not move the bus until everyone is seated. He moves forward and I feel the rear end of the buggy rise slightly onto higher ground.

He moves the bus perhaps thirty feet away and soon another buggy parks where we had been, but it stops sideways to the crouching bear. Thus, it is higher than our buggy had been when it we were backed into the spot where the bear jumped at us.

Inside the buggy, one of our group is rattled. The bear had leapt at him as it came from under the buggy, making the first noise I’d heard.

“I was taking a picture of it on the ground and the next thing I knew, all I could see was the side of its head in my camera,” he says.

This is the second Tundra Buggy that moved next to the bear that had jumped at ours.

For comparison, the rail is seen across the lower left in the photo. In the photo above, the bear is s till in the same place.

Julia, who was standing two or three people back from the rail when the bear hit the buggy the second time, says she looked it straight in the eyes when it slammed into the buggy.

I wasn’t at all sure I believed that. How can those bears possibly reach that high? These busses are built high off the ground for that express reason. Plus, this bear was small compared to the other bear that was sleeping nearby.

Watching, waiting.

Yet, another man, who also was two or three people back from the rail, said, “I've read about and seen footage of lunges like this at Tundra Buggies. But they don't clear the top of the railing like this one did, I was awestruck by the sheer size of the polar bear -- seeing it eyeball-to-eyeball that close. “

Later on that day, our buggy comes face to face with another buggy as the drivers lean out their windows and exchange animal sightings. A woman seated in the front seat of the other buggy is wearing a tee shirt that read “Polar Bears Rock.” I take a couple photos of her for a joke.

That evening, back at the Churchill Northern Studies Centre, I see the same woman and offer to e-mail her the photos.

I did so a week or two after I returned home and found her e-mail address. She wrote back asking if I had been in the buggy the bear jumped at.

She sent photos she had taken of the back of our buggy. I am utterly astonished when I see the photos and realize what they mean. No wonder Marcus had wigged out.

The two paw prints are on the right side. One is just above ".com." The other is to the right of that, but harder to see.

The top of the rail is just visible at the top of the photo. This wall is about four feet high, and almost five feet off the ground.

There is no longer any doubt in my mind that the bear had lunged with the intent of grabbing someone. Had anyone been leaning over or had anything dangling over the side, that bear would have had him. I no longer doubted Julia’s story about looking the bear straight in the eye over the rail—looking straight out, not looking down at it.

That's me on the right. I'm 5'2. The top of the viewing deck is a few inches higher than the bottom of the row of windows.

That's the viewing deck on a Tundra Buggy.

The Polar Bear Journals, Ch. 11, The Troubling Incident

2011-12-04T15:10:00.000-08:00

The Troubling Incident

Part One

It is our second and last day on the tundra in the huge Tundra Buggies. Marcus is our driver once again. He says he and the other drivers have noticed increased activity in the polar bears the past couple days.

The weather is colder and slush ice is forming in the more protected places along the shoreline of Hudson Bay. More bears have moved into the area, anticipating the long-awaited freeze-up.

They have not eaten for several months, other than berries and grasses that do not make a satisfying meal. The bears have used up their stores of fat. Their energy levels are low and they become over-heated quickly.

We spot our first bear shortly after leaving the Tundra Buggy loading site, and several more along the way to the remote Tundra Buggy Lodge. Marcus takes us by a different route on the WWII military roads into the Wapusk National Park, a few miles south of Churchill, and we approach the remote camp from its far side.

That's unfrozen Hudson Bay behind the bear.

A polar bear is walking towards the stationary buggies that make up the camp.

We reach the gravel pad and Marcus backs the buggy into position. I feel the rear end of the buggy drop a couple inches on the uneven pad as he backs up. By this time, the bear is underneath one of the camp cars, sniffing at moisture dripping from the gray water tank fastened beneath the sleeping unit.

It paws at the wet ice below the tank and sniffs the liquid. It turns and walks directly towards our buggy, then walks beneath the two front wheels. I take one last picture before it disappears and then I head for the rear viewing deck.

Just as I exit onto the rear deck, I hear a sound like a sledge hammer hitting the side corner of the deck. I know what caused it, but my mind refuses to believe a bear can make that noise.

A moment later, I hear the same loud bang from the far corner of the deck. There are many people on the deck crowding the rail. Just as I make my way to the rail, Marcus bursts through the door. He is highly agitated and commands everyone not to lean over the rail.

“No scarves, no camera straps, no elbows!” he demands, moving through the group and checking that all are obeying. “No lens caps,” he says as he points to mine. I briefly think this is erring on the side of extreme caution, but I grab the dangling lens cap and hold it.

Another bear, another time, but posted here to show the bears' interest in the buggies.

I am still trying to wrap my head around those two noises as I watch the bear lying on its belly behind the buggy. I’ve seen these bears looking up at the people in the buggies, and I’ve seen pictures of them standing on their hind legs and leaning against the buggy side.

I always thought it was done out of curiosity. Now as I watch the bear, I see it isn’t lying down at all. It is crouched with those massive and powerful hind quarters ready to leap if it spots an opportunity. I think about how fast it must be able to move to catch a seal that pops its head above water through a breathing hole in the ice.

The bear appears to be completely uninterested in us, but then I see it roll its eyes upward without moving its huge head. It’s waiting, waiting for someone to make the wrong move, judging the distance.

Notice the nose is turned towards the side. It is sniffing and watching, waiting for the right moment.

“It’s crouched there, ready to pounce,” I whisper to whomever is standing beside me.

I think about those two loud bangs and what a powerful lunge the bear must have made. I consider how patient the bears must be to crouch before a seal's breathing hole in the ice, and I begin to feel like prey.

At my feet, just two yards away, is the largest land-dwelling carnivore, the only predator mammal known to stalk humans.

With that, my perception of these bears and of my place in their world changes. It is a very uncomfortable change.

(to be continued--The Aftermath)

(To enlarge any photo: Click on the photo. That will bring up the photo above a line of thumbnails. RIGHT click on the photo you want to enlarge and select VIEW IMAGE. When it appears by itself, left click to enlarge to full screen. Then look at the bear's eyes and tell me it isn't stalking us.)

Mother Nature is having a hot flash...

2011-12-03T20:36:00.000-08:00

So get some hormone replacement therapy, already! Cool it off around here.

Ice skating rinks have their places and they aren't on our highways.

When the Storm Breaks

2011-12-03T14:30:00.000-08:00

The yoyo weather we've had lately keeps us guessing. Yesterday the clouds from the latest storm began breaking up. Combine that with lingering mist and fog, and you get spectacular lighting and exquisite scenes.

Noon in Moose Pass. It wasn't really this dark. I'm shooting into the sun.

Snow River valley, taken through a dirty windshield.

About 3:30 p.m. as the sun begins to set.

Trail Lake, close to 4 PM.

Hairy woodpecker.

Is a Hairy woodpecker a good thing or a bad thing to have on a power pole?

I really need to get out of the house more often.

(This is how you deal with Blogspot's new photo viewing mess. Click on the photo you want to enlarge. It will appear along with thumbnails of all the other photos in the post. Right click on the enlarged photo and then left click on "view image." It will appear by itself. Click on that enlargement and it will enlarge more.)

What happens...

2011-12-01T22:16:00.000-08:00

...when you get out of the house for a change:

Then, again, the view on the inside isn't bad at all.