North in Alaska - 25

North in Alaska – 25

When I visited all my students this week they all insisted on calling me Professor.  The trouble is I don’t really feel like one if in fact a professor feels a certain way.  The only difference I see is that when I get one check from the School District I get another one from the university system.  I always thought Professors got paid too much for to little work and now I am certain.  I think it is a travesty but not enough of one for me to return the check.

I have a few minutes before I take off on my rounds so I thought perhaps I would address a subject that here to forth has only be implied and not topically written about.  That being, the role Bev has played during all my great adventures in the frozen north.

Men forge the trails of exploration and discovery but women it seems are the ones who bring order and civilization to the wilds.  If it were not for the organizational skills and practical abilities Bev has our tenure in the wilderness would not be as nearly rewarding or palatable.  Lets take an average day in the life of Bev.

She wakes up early each morning and starts the fire in the wood burning stove.  Puts on a fresh pot of tea and every once in awhile coffee.  She them whips up some biscuits and as not to be hum drum makes a different kind of biscuit every morning.  We have had biscuits laced with fruit, vegetable, meats, cheese and other concoctions that as of yet have been mouth watering and very tasty, except for the ones she made from otter meat.  We both decided that there was no need to try them again. 

She then goes to the fish line chops a hole in the ice and gathers the over night catch and cleans them immediately.  She then hauls water from the lake puts it on the stove to boil and fills the bathtub letting it cool down just enough so when she wakes me I can immediately have my morning bath.  We eat breakfast together and I head out to conquer the day.  Depending on what needs to be done she hops to it.  Sometime she makes small repairs to the cabin, sews things, chops wood, and  prepares for the evening meal by skinning and butchering any wild thing that may have been delivered by Big Bear the previous day.  If no animal was available she would scan the cupboard to see if any canned products were suitable and if not take her sudoko puzzles out on the porch along with a .22 rifle and wait for a squirrel or rabbit to scurry by.  You would be surprised at how many different ways you can prepared squirrel and rabbits, musk ox, moose, caribou, and the ubiquitous fish from the lake.  There is only one meal a week which she refuses to go native and that is Sunday.  She insists on having pasta and gravy (the rest of the world call it tomato sauce.)  It is a tradition she say that has been in her family and one of the customs that were brought from Sicily and there was no need to change regardless of where she lived.  In fact she has started a little cottage industry selling the “gravy” to the occasional visitor and trapper that stumble by now and then.  I have suggested she open up a restaurant for Sunday meals and we could advertise it via the rounds in the community made by Big Bear, but as of yet she has declined to be a restaurateur.

She irons by a heated iron from the stove, bought a book on how to repair the generator, fixes anything else that may need it or she thinks needs it, and keeps the cabin clean and organized.  When I come home in the evening there is always hot tea, biscuits and a bottle of home made wine she makes from the berries that she trades for her sauce and or a glass of beer she seems to brew up out of no where.  She refuses to sell or give away the alcohol because alcohol and most natives do not mix.  “Besides,” she said one day, “Our family has not been bootleggers since Uncle Al died.”  She is a little vague as to who Uncle Al was and I fear to ask.

She does a lot more but it can all be summed by stating that she is truly a renaissance woman of the first degree.  If it were not for her, life would be a little less rewarding in our little cabin in the snowy woods of central Alaska.  Salute.