Wilderness Blues- Ramblings from the Great Land

  I suppose one would have to be living under a rock to be unaware of the devastation that the most recent hurricane did to the Southeastern United States about a week ago. One of the hardest hit areas was Asheville, North Carolina, where something like thirty inches of rain fell in the mountains in twenty four hours, leaving an apocalyptic landscape behind. For as long as man has been on the earth there have been natural disasters, and if you haven't lived through one yet, there is a chance, and perhaps a good one, of experiencing one in your lifetime. Regardless of where we live, we either experience drought, floods, hurricanes, tornadoes, mudslides or earthquakes or perhaps other catastrophes that aren't mentioned here. The point I'm trying to make is that none of us is exempt, and while we can watch the news of disasters in a place far away and be glad that it didn't happen to us, we're left with an opportunity to help those in need. I'm reminded of the pass...

  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 ...

 This Thursday will be Thanksgiving. It's hard to believe that it's that time of year again already. I was listening to several Christian broadcasts on Sunday, and of course the theme was on giving thanks, which is always appropriate, but seems to take center stage during the week of Thanksgiving. I believe it was Dr. Charles Stanley who mentioned that when we thank God in every situation, even when we don't really feel thankful, just the act of thanking God can bring about a change in our attitude, and sometimes even in our circumstances. For the past few weeks I've had gratitude on my mind. I'm a fairly negative person by nature. I can find the worst in just about any situation. If I catch a lot of fish I can start feeling unhappy because I have to clean them all. If I should make a good bit of money on my catch, then I have to pay more in taxes. With that kind of attitude, it's hard to win at all in anything. However, as I mentioned, I've been thinkin...

 I received phone calls from two different friends last week letting me know that the weather was great and the fishing was good out in Cross Sound. It was the incentive I needed to bite the bullet and get my behind out there. I've been dealing with some health issues this year and haven't felt up to spending the night on the boat, which a trip to the sound entails. It takes me six hours to get there, so it's not like you can just turn around and leave if you don't like it, at least not very easily. Anyway, on Tuesday I made the trip. I always have heart palpitations when I get close to South Inian Pass. Years ago when I was on my way through the pass with one of the boys, the placid water built up a wall of tidal disturbance that seemed to be about ten feet high. It's one of those places that you can't very well turn around and go back because the current is really smoking through there. We went through and buried the boat a couple time...

Down through the years I've watched countless people pass through Hoonah. They come, stay for awhile and move on. I've watched, sometimes with envy, as they packed their belongings and continued on with their lives elsewhere.Some of the families who had called Mt. Bether home moved to Hoonah for a season, had jobs and businesses and children. Then, whether listening to a still, small voice like Elijah, or answering a longing deep down, they pulled up stakes and left. If there is a downfall to making friends with people, it's that when they're gone they leave a hole in your heart. It's always great to get a Christmas card or letter from them or better yet a phone call, but it's not the same as sharing a meal or a game of cards. The latest passer through was this young gal pictured here, Renee. When she came to Hoonah several years ago to take on the job of school counselor, I don't think she was fully prepared for what she encountered. The first place she re...