Kites!

I think you can see every ounce of his spirit in this photo. It makes me smile so much that I made it my screensaver.

Kite construction

It says, "In memory of Lida" and the date. I said, "But I'm not dead!" She said, "But you're leaaaavvvvving!" I'm not going far. Thankfullly.





Showing his little Brother...

Today was our last day of school. Yesterday we made kites as a final little project. It was a great way to end the year. I like teaching because whether they know it or not, kids are inspiring and they absolutely make my life better.

I had only planned to stay in Alaska for two years. And until about February, leaving was my intention. But the more I thought it over, the more I knew leaving for good was not the answer for me. At least not right now. Life out here is simple and it's genuine and the people are some of the kindest, most accepting people I've ever known. That kind of appreciation makes my life meaningful and fulfilling. And I'm not ready to give that up yet.

While I love my life here in Manokotak I also knew that I would be ready for a change and a new challenge. But at the same time starting over and abandoning my life in Manokotak entirely sounded daunting and felt premature. There was however a 5th grade position opening in New Stuyahok, a neighboring village, so I decided to inquire. I was granted the transfer and on February 26th, I signed my contract to teach in New Stuyahok, AK for the 2010 - 2011 school year.

The move has been relatively easy logistically because New Stuyahok is in the same school district as Manokotak. In these last few weeks I've been able to catch a couple of district chartered flights, making moving very inexpensive. And by inexpensive, I mean free. It's also comforting to know that I'll continue to have many opportunities to be involved with Manokotak, my friends here and of course the kids because of all of the potential inter-district travel for sports, cultural events and other opportunities. New Stu is also a Yup'ik Eskimo village, so culturally things will be similar, which is a huge relief. After the Bronx and my first bush experience, I'm ready to know what to expect. I feel like I've got it coming.

Another big appeal is that I have several like minded friends in New Stu already. I'll get to coach cross country running and one a small airline flies direct to Anchorage, making holiday travel much less dicy and stressful. New Stu is also a damp village which means that alcohol can be carried in, but not purchased (alcohol is a Class C Felony in Manokotak - meaning jail time, loss of teaching license, etc.). I'm also a big fan of the principal there. He has a vision and a plan for academic growth and progress. He's a guy who finds little room for excuses and I like that. A lot.

I have visited New Stuyahok a few times now, first for wrestling in the fall, then for an observational visit to meet my new students and finally, to move my belongings for next year. I moved last weekend during graduation/prom and there was a big turnout. Everyone, from little kids, to elders were invited and everybody danced the "two-step" to the notes of New Stuyahok's live band. We also took a boat ride, saw some moose, had a swim the freshly thawed Nushagak River and before I knew it, 22 hours had passed and I was back on a plane, flying home, but with a few unforgetable stops along the way...

John, my favorite pilot, picked me up from New Stuyahok on Saturday around 5 p.m. He had some fun flying to do and invited me along for the ride. Of course I agreed. We landed on this beach first to pick up some bear hunters to transport them to a different beach.

John flew two flights over to the second beach. Here he's returning for me and the last bear hunter and most of their stuff. There's his little blue plane beneath the tiny mountain.

Heading with one of the bear hunters to the other beach.

This was our second beach landing. You can see the "runway" we landed on. To me it looked a little sketchy, but we were on our way down already.

So when people ask me why I continue to stick around, well, this is my answer.

Laura the Life Saver

My friend Laura visited last week. We've known each since elementary school. I guess that's over half of our lives now, wow. Anyway, she flew in on Tuesday and flew home to Boulder, CO on the following Monday. Laura's arrival was greatly anticipated, not only by me, but also by my students, who love meeting people and they adore the ones who love them back. From the moment we picked her up on our snowmobiles in Dillingham, Laura seemlessly slid in to my daily grind and already, everyone misses her. Especially me.

Laura and Brian heading into Dillingham.

Laura and me, just beyond the Snake River.

One of my students made this in anticipation of Laura's arrival. Laura is the first person on a snowmobile, the second is Brian and Kirsten along with their (fictional) child. The last is me, skijoring with Hank.

While Laura was here, we took full advantage of our surroundings and of our time together. Our evenings were jammed packed with activities like steaming, caribou dining, visits with other friends in the village and a whole lot of catching up. Yes, I think I can safely say that we covered in detail, the finer details of the last ten years of both of our lives. The intracicacies and events that Christmas coctails and river adventures don't exactly leave room for. Bush life on the other hand, does.

Since the evening Laura arrived, we'd been hounding my friend Doug to escort us by snowmobile about 100 miles "up river" to a village called New Stuyahok. Doug's a seasoned bush guy and has made the dicy trip dozens of times. We'd also done plenty of research suggesting the conditions were appropriate for travel. I wanted to go to get my recently purchased snowmobile up there because I'm relocating next year. And while there are other ways to get the machine to New Stuyahok (boat or barge), nothing appealed to me quite like the snow-go adventure. I was also really excited that my friend would have this wild Alaskan experience, get to see my next steps as well as meet some new faces along the way. The best part was that Laura loved the idea just as much as I did!

And so last Saturday morning we hustled around my house, inside and out, packing and strapping Laura's belongings to the sled in the (likely) event we decided not to make it back to Manoktoak before her Monday evening departure. Aside from the obvious safety precautions, we also carried some artsy challah bread, a small (cooked) chicken and some oatmeal cookies. In any event, we weren't going to starve. As we hurried around, I considered not wearing my helmet, complaining about feeling like a bobble head and whining that my neck would probably hurt after four hours of riding. Laura, the voice of reason didn't see any justification for not wearing the helmet, which became reason enough for me. Anyway, you see where this is going...

We left Manokotak both wearing our bobble heads (helmets). And thank God we did, because after crossing the Wood River (beyond Dillingham), seemingly out of nowhere, I spun on some ice going about 25 mph. The crazy thing is, I don't even remember feeling the track of the machine fish tail. I just remember suddenly feeling out of control, powerless, and afraid that the machine would crush me. Then the lights went out.

Aside from a few very fuzzy memories, I have no recollection of what happened from about the time of the crash until I was on Doug's machine heading to the hospital while forcing myself to jog my lazy memory. According to Laura and Doug, following the accident, there was a period of about thirty minutes where I was walking around, not exactly coharent, repeating the same questions, but not retaining their responses. The questions I asked over and over again were, "Was I wearing my helmet?" and "Was I driving that snowmobile?" Then I'd forget, get frustrated and ask again. A group of men who were out cutting wood stopped too. One of them happened to be a wilderness first responder. Based on my loss of short term memory and dilated pupils he recommended I get to the hospital ASAP.


Laura rolling on the "Christine, the Death Machine," affectionately named following the accident.


Me, on Doug's machine, post accident.

I'm fine now, thanks to Laura's 'safety first' mentality. My head is back to normal and I don't even have a bump, although I imagine my brain had a pretty good jossling in its casing. The right side of my body is bruised and my knee is not quite right. Laura's dad is an orthopedic surgen, so he coached Brian through an orthopedic exam of my knee over speakerphone. Based on the "results," the doctor figures it's just some torn cartaledge which should heal in a matter of weeks. In the meantime though, I'm home, doing floor exercises, reading, staring out the window, and only mildly obsessing about my body turning to mush. It's particularly heartbreaking since the weather these days is pretty off the hook, with bright sunshine and warm air until about 9:30 p.m.

As for the snowmobile, the track had to be put back on the machine and there's some cosmetic damage following the 360 degree roll. I think some studs for the track are in order before I get back on that bucking bronco.

Anyway, thank God for good people, accidents that we can laugh and learn from and great friends. Especially the ones who visit you in the bush, and make you wear your helmet. And although I was very disappointed that we didn't get to finish our journey, I am so thankful that Laura came out, we got to have the time of our lives and we're both still put together. What a trip...

We Made it!

On Saturday, we finally had the right conditions to make our thirty mile trek to Dillingham. Just as promised, Brian rode his bike and I cross country skied. That day is up there with one of the more extraordinary days of my life.

I was definitely nervous about the journey. The rivers concerned me and of course since the wolf scare in Chignik Bay, people are on high alert. While I am definitely aware of the dangers and risks involved in these sorts of activities, I can't just sit, wait and be afraid of what could happen while letting this life pass me by. Plus, I can't help but think about all the dangerous things people do in cities, like driving and crossing streets. I guess all you can do is be as prepared as possible. I had a radio, a GPS and friends coming behind me. I wasn't packing heat though. Maybe next year.

The South Trail

The first river I had to cross was the Weary River. I was nervous because I'd be crossing at high tide, alone. Luckily though, my friend Peter met me at the time he knew I'd be crossing, just in case I needed a ferry ride across.

At this point, I realized I was feeling absolutely famished. I'd been skiing for about four hours with my heart rate at a pretty consistent 160 bpm. I sat down for a snack and from the top of my little hill I noticed a bright speck in the distance. Brian had left about an hour after I had, knowing that we'd meet up eventually. Although I knew Brian would be along soon, seeing him peddling across that wide open tundra really brought happiness to my soul. I was so excited to have nearly completed what we'd promised ourselves we'd do. We only had five miles to go! Well, five for me, double for Brian. He biked home. I flew.

This was what the overflowing Snake River looked like a low tide when I arrived. Skipping around this river to find the best way to get across was challenging. It's still very well frozen, but with the constant flux of the tide, the overflow pools up. I hadn't gotten my feet wet yet, and I was determined not to let that happen. They remained dry. Thankfully.

A lovely day!


Peter and Cindy were the caboose and our knights in shining armor. They left Manokotak for Dillingham around 1 p.m. on their snowmobile and arrived after 2 p.m. Knowing that they'd eventually be along gave me great peace of mind. We all ordered the most intense burger on the menu and even after skiing for almost five hours straight, I still couldn't finish the Eagle Burger!

The Woes and Rewards of Travel

Landing in Manokotak last week on the Igushik River.

In these last weeks, I feel like I've been traveling more than I've been home. I'm not complaining though. I like going places and I really enjoy flying, especially around here when moose and caribou sightings are a regular occurrence and our bird's-eye view surroundings are in constant flux.

A few weeks ago I was set to attend a technology conference in Anchorage, AK. I was supposed to leave on a Friday and return the following Wednesday, but I knew not to get my hopes up on that foggy looking Friday afternoon. Quiem'uk, the all-purpose airline van driver and uppi (grandpa) of a good chunk of my students, picked me up at the school shouting, "Kiki! Kiki! John leave for Manokotak, right now!" I've been here long enough to know that "kiki kiki" means, "Get your ass in the van!" So Frank the maintenance man and I threw our bags in the back, while from the inside, Quiem wrestled open the only functioning passenger door (which also happens to be on the fritz), and we were on our way.

We arrived at the airport which is a gravel landing strip about four miles from my house with an empty warming trailer meant for times like this. Dense fog had set in so we knew we were in for a wait. Frank and I weren't the only ones primed to get out that Friday night either. Manokotak's five-woman basketball team was also warming up in the single-wide, cracking the kind of jokes that are only funny when you're sweet sixteen or thereabouts.

After a few hours of waiting for the weather to lift and entertaining the young ladies, it was decided that they wouldn't make their game and their flight was called off. So, it was down to Frank and me waiting in the trailer. Frank is a slight but burly guy who looks and sounds like he's done some good, hard living. Someone who at first glance I might not choose to be deserted with in the middle of nowhere, but of course, as with anyone who's done some living, Frank had things to say and managed to captivate my attention for the six or so hours we spent in limbo. So I sat, peering out the window on an unstable 2 x 4 bench and Frank reclined in his arctic attire on the linoleum floor while he told me about his life, his living and about how at this point, nothing, not even a "sh*t storm" (literally a sh*t storm), could faze him.

I most like meeting people who are real. And there was nothing unreal about this guy, just straight talk. I can't imagine I'll ever forget him for it either.

Anyway, eventually, after six hours and several landing attempts, John touched down in Manokotak and we were on our way! It's nice to get stuck with people who have really close ties with pilots.

2010

Living in a remote part of Alaska, there isn't much to do that isn't related to being outside, which is a large part of why I love living here. This winter has been more of a challenge. Our late winter has yielded unfair amounts of snow which means we have to be much more creative about our outdoor activities. Last year we were snowmobiling across large rivers in the middle of December! This year, well, it's been tough.

Yesterday, for better or for worse we gave Dillingham a fighting chance. Brian, Kirk, Peter, me and two other young men from the village ventured out at 12:30 p.m. Parts of the tundra were nearly barren with only ice, while other parts were fairly snowy. The otherwise raging rivers were well frozen, but seeing the crunchy river banks with their deep cracks, resulting from the daily the twenty foot tide increase and decrease, made me focus to a degree I didn't know was possible. It wasn't pretty, but we made it and home by 12:30 a.m., making the usual hour long jaunt a solid three hour challenge.

I am most thankful for my arctic Carhart bib overalls, my beaver fur mittens, my new helmet and my good friend Brian. Phew! I won't be doing that again until we have some real snow.

Here's a view of the tundra from yesterday: Ice, snow and tundra. Nasty.

More of the same. It's still beautiful, even without snow.

I've been snowshoeing a lot in the evenings. I like how the pink sunset touches the slope. I can only imagine what it looked like beyond the left slope.

Boats by the river. You can see Hank as a little blur tearing towards me. He's the best!

This is my friend Brian. He also biked with me around Lake Superior. He's engaged to my good friend here, Kirsten. Brian just bought this amazing snow bike. It's called the Fat Bike and tailored for riding on snow trails. The plan is for him to ride his bike and me to skate ski to Dillingham and home on the snowmobile trails. I just got my skis and I'm super excited by this new expectation.

Fat Tire!

Love 'em and Leave 'em

This was a great holiday trip for me, it was hard to see end. It went like this: I spent a few days in and around Anchorage, where I shared a king bed with a generous stranger (see below). Then, headed to Denver to be with my cousin Angie for some cocktail partying and downhill skiing. Days later I left for Appleton, WI for some family and friend time and finally, I spent the new year at Sawbill in Northern Minnesota for some quality outdoor activity, fun and friendship.

All of that is incredibly hard to leave. Heartbreaking even: The packing, the goodbyes and remembering that this is the last dose of family, love and friendship, from this part of my life for a while. Reminding me just how separate my life here is from my life in the lower 48 and how the two will never really be able to mingle. When I leave either place, it feels as though I’m sealing up relationships like they are time capsules, not to be opened for several months, and never to be exactly the same again.

Loving too often and too easily has its drawbacks, but I don't know any other way to live. What fun.

I had arrived in Denver about an hour before this photograph was taken. I felt strangely displaced while half naked, drinking alcohol, and fielding questions about Alaska. I went to sleep earlier than everyone else. Despite being overwhelmed, Neil’s cocktail party was still loads of fun.

My friend Alison Bents took this photo. Sawbill is one of the places I feel most at home with friends who are more like family. We play hard and always have the kind of fun that I can only describe as outrageous. I love that.

Caitlin and I found our sled preference this year. She was much more adept at keeping her balance than I was. Sure was fun.

I left Sawbill and headed to St. Paul, MN. I did some last minute supply shopping at Super Target and found myself browsing the aisles with misty eyes. I spent the night at Koz and Tony’s house. They were the perfect pair to stay with on my final night. Tony even expert packed, drilled, duct taped and zip-tied my big container of food and supplies. I can only imagine the frustration I would have endured doing all this by myself in the slightly emotional state I was in. Koz made me a CD she cleverly titled "Connection to the Contiguous" (or songs not played on NPR). My favorite song being, "I'm in Miami Trick" by LMFAO. Tony made a killer breakfast in the morning and I was off. Gosh, they are good friends.

It's fun flying back to Alaska because it's inevitable that I will run into several people who I know. This time I met Brian and Kirsten in Minneapolis, Staci in Seattle and several others once we arrived in Anchorage. We all spent the night in Anchorage where we played darts, had a few beers and laughed before returning to our respective villages. Here's a view flying back into Dillingham.

The runway in Dillingham. What a beautiful welcome home.