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.