Wilderness Blues- Ramblings from the Great Land

I went up to Hatcher Pass about ten days ago. Jan and Autumn had gone to Anchorage to go shopping, and since the day was picture perfect, I decided to take a trip back up to Hatcher even though I had been there the week before. It was amazing how fast things had changed. When I was there the first time, I went up with Jan and her sister Jill. We drove all the way up to the Independence mine, and there was no sign of snow anywhere. As you can see, that all changed rapidly. I was actually hoping to get some more pictures of the mine. When I was there the first time, the battery on my camera died- go figure. This time the gravel road that goes over to Willow and passes by a lake that I was hoping to fish, was closed. There was also a sign warning of icy roads by the toll area before the mine, so I didn't bother going up. The last thing I need is to go sliding off the road and down a mountain. The bottom picture is of the Little Susitna River. It's clear as a bell and runs really f...

  Several weeks ago here in the Mat-Su valley, we were hit with a wind storm of such a magnitude that it was considered to qualify as a hurricane in terms of wind velocity. For several days the area was buffeted by winds that at times exceeded eighty miles per hour. It was NOT fun. The trees were shedding limbs by the armload. As I was laying in bed at night listening to the wind, every now and then a limb would strike the house with a loud bang. I was praying that the windows and door would be spared any damage. About nine in the morning on that Saturday I had just come down to the office and turned on the computer when we lost power. I wasn't overly concerned. I had spoken to my neighbor who has lived in Wasilla for years, and he mentioned that at the most the power in the past was only out for about three hours. No big deal. The outdoor temperature was hovering around zero with a wind chill of about thirty below. With the wind blowing steady at between forty and fifty miles per ...

  It's hard to believe that 44 years has passed since that June day in 1976 when Jan and I drove our 72 Pinto up the ramp of the Hoonah ferry terminal into an adventure that would last for this long. Driving through the town I was wondering what I had gotten myself into. We left sunny Charleston South Carolina and came to this land of mountains and water and rain in amounts I'd never seen before. The main road was nothing more than a narrow, muddy, rut -filled lane that two cars could only pass on in select areas. Houses along the road were so covered with mud that the paint wasn't visible and if the sun did ever shine you'd never know because the windows were streaked brown with so much mud that light couldn't penetrate. People walking down the road were in no hurry to get out of your way, and stared at you like you were on display in a circus. The few cars I passed had slogans like Indian Power and Custer Had it Coming. A lot has changed in 44 years. Hoonah has be...