Note to reader. This was first published in Whispering Wind - American Indian: Past and Present, Vol. 35 No. 2
Mother
As told to Conley McAnally by Elena Wasky
My grandparents adopted my cousin and I right after we were born. Although first cousins we became brother and sister just as much as my grandmother became my mother.
My brother's name was Gabriel Joseph Meyers, we called him Joey. He died at nineteen but those were a good nineteen years. A little bit later Dad died from pneumonia. Mother and I were left behind. We became very close and I never wanted to be without her; but that was not to be.
Mother and I lived in a cabin on a hill side over looking the Yukon River. It was a very quiet place about a quarter mile from the village. During the summer we were surrounded by colorful plants sprouting from the ground, birds making nests in trees, and bees buzzing the pretty flowers of yellow, pink, and purple. Butterflies flew around enjoying the warmth. In winter we would be covered with a magical blanket of snow.
Mom worked hard all her life, but she always had time to help if others were in need. It made no difference if it was a place to stay, fish to cut, skins to prepare, or if a friend just needed an ear to talk to, she was always there. Mother loved berry picking and cutting fish during the summer. When it was not too busy and the weather was nice and breezy she and I would gather drift wood that had floated down the Yukon River and washed up on the bank. We did well together.
She taught me how to sew material and skins, to cook, and other little jobs in and around the house. Sometimes in the evening we would sit on the floor under a bright light, and my mom would sew mukluks or boots and I would crochet in an attempt to make scarf. How I miss those days.
A few years went by and I got married and had a family of my own. Two daughters were born. My first daughter, Josephine, was named after my brother Joey, and my second daughter, Agnes, was named after my Godmother's mom, Vera. My mom stayed with us because I did not want her to live alone.
She got sick after a few years. She tried ayuq, tundra tea, then cailuq, a green plant that grows in the summertime. You can also boil and drink it for medicine, but nothing helped. She died. I am still sad.
Sunday, November 21, 2010
Tundra Walk - Alaska
One day in September near Hooper Bay I decided to go for a walk on the Tundra. It had not yet snowed and the temperature, while cold, was not bone freezing and there was still water in the ponds and finger like projections that connected some of them.
The Tundra seemed to me to be made up of grass with a marsh thrown in here and there. Sometimes it was grass up to your knees and other times you walked on soft moss that reminded me of walking on a trampoline.
I saw a ridge in the distance and decided to head in that direction. After about a half hour of trekking I realised that the distance to the ridge was deceiving so I altered my plan and veered left toward what I guessed was the direction of the Bering Sea.
Because of ponds and connecting water ways I could not walk in a straight line and it seemed like for everyone 100 feet I went straight I went 200 feet sideways one way or another. The going was slow.
After about an hour I decided that I was not that interested in seeing the Bering Sea again so decided to return to the village. That was no problem because I never let it out of my sight. I began my weaving between the ponds and the muck and the streams and was making very little forward progress. The streams were just wide enough that I could not jump but I did find one spot that looked shallow enough for me to wade. My boots were good, having found them in the closet when I moved in, so I had no fear of them leaking. I stepped into the little stream and immediately sunk to mid calf. I put the other foot in and it did the same. Water seeped down into my boots and it was cold. I lunged forward trying to hit the opposite bank with my chest and crawled out. Not being a fast learner I repeated the process one more time until I made it back to the edge of the village.
I thought to myself what would have happened to me if it had been 40 below or something. Well if it had of been I realized I could have just walked in a straight line across the frozen Tundra and not have gotten wet.
The Tundra seemed to me to be made up of grass with a marsh thrown in here and there. Sometimes it was grass up to your knees and other times you walked on soft moss that reminded me of walking on a trampoline.
I saw a ridge in the distance and decided to head in that direction. After about a half hour of trekking I realised that the distance to the ridge was deceiving so I altered my plan and veered left toward what I guessed was the direction of the Bering Sea.
Because of ponds and connecting water ways I could not walk in a straight line and it seemed like for everyone 100 feet I went straight I went 200 feet sideways one way or another. The going was slow.
After about an hour I decided that I was not that interested in seeing the Bering Sea again so decided to return to the village. That was no problem because I never let it out of my sight. I began my weaving between the ponds and the muck and the streams and was making very little forward progress. The streams were just wide enough that I could not jump but I did find one spot that looked shallow enough for me to wade. My boots were good, having found them in the closet when I moved in, so I had no fear of them leaking. I stepped into the little stream and immediately sunk to mid calf. I put the other foot in and it did the same. Water seeped down into my boots and it was cold. I lunged forward trying to hit the opposite bank with my chest and crawled out. Not being a fast learner I repeated the process one more time until I made it back to the edge of the village.
I thought to myself what would have happened to me if it had been 40 below or something. Well if it had of been I realized I could have just walked in a straight line across the frozen Tundra and not have gotten wet.
Saturday, November 20, 2010
The Appian Way - The spa
Upon arriving at the Tirrenia di Navigazione spa we were greeted with warmth and enthusiasm. The desk clerk assigned us rooms along the beach side. The men in our little contingent shared two to a room and I being a field grade officer got a suite all by myself. The room was comfortable and luxurious, at least for a guy from Independence.
The group planned on meeting in the lobby around 6:00 that evening to decide what we were going to do for dinner. I had a couple of hours left after getting settled in, so I called room service, ordered a bottle of some sort of Italian red, tried to tip the bell hop who refused my lira but did take a couple of American dollars.
I sat on the balcony in very comfortable chairs, watched the rolling Ligurian Sea and thought how nice it was to protect my country from the evils of communism. The only thing that disappointed me was that for being a nude beach there were no swimmers or sun bathers. It was in mid February and even close to southern Italy it was to cold for such things.
I left my room in plenty of time to meet up with my small band of brothers and explored the spa. There was a huge outdoor pool but no pool side loungers, a very large drinking establishment in the basement area but closed for the season, a work out room with no one there, no one in the sauna, a good sized restaurant, but again closed for the season. I started thinking that I might run in to Jack Nicholson, when I came across what was advertised as an American Bar. It was full.
After ordering some red wine it was immediately known to all in the bar that I was an American and for the next 45 minutes I never had to buy a drink. They were friendly and were not that interested in what I was doing in Tirrenia. They eluded to the fact that they knew I was a soldier and they were use to soldiers not being to specific on what they were up to or where they were from. I found out later Livorno, just down the road from Tirrenia, was the center for the Italian Communist Party. I gave no state secrets away.
My comrades and I met in the lobby and we discussed where to eat. No one but me was over the age of 21 so our food desires were not the same. One wanted to go back to Camp Darby because he saw a sign in the mess hall that informed everyone that it was Taco night at the bowling ally. Another saw a McDonald's sign as we came into town and thought that would be interesting. Yet another said he had walked a little bit around town and just down the block was a place that advertised American Pizza.
I was weary enough that I did not want to point out the obvious so I just told them we had been in each others company for over 24 hours and perhaps we ought to go our own separate ways that evening and meet up in the breakfast cafe which was on the second floor at six the next morning. Besides I said I was tired. I threw the senior sergeant my car keys and headed back to the America Bar for one more drink.
Breakfast was good. All you could eat buffet and part of the room price so we all were able to save part of our Per-Diem that morning. Eggs, bacon, sausage, something that looked like hash browns, oatmeal, flaked cereal, hard rolls, and, don't ask me why, pork and beans.
We piled into the BMW and headed to Camp Darby, that with pin and pencil we would begin doing our part to win the cold war.
The group planned on meeting in the lobby around 6:00 that evening to decide what we were going to do for dinner. I had a couple of hours left after getting settled in, so I called room service, ordered a bottle of some sort of Italian red, tried to tip the bell hop who refused my lira but did take a couple of American dollars.
I sat on the balcony in very comfortable chairs, watched the rolling Ligurian Sea and thought how nice it was to protect my country from the evils of communism. The only thing that disappointed me was that for being a nude beach there were no swimmers or sun bathers. It was in mid February and even close to southern Italy it was to cold for such things.
I left my room in plenty of time to meet up with my small band of brothers and explored the spa. There was a huge outdoor pool but no pool side loungers, a very large drinking establishment in the basement area but closed for the season, a work out room with no one there, no one in the sauna, a good sized restaurant, but again closed for the season. I started thinking that I might run in to Jack Nicholson, when I came across what was advertised as an American Bar. It was full.
After ordering some red wine it was immediately known to all in the bar that I was an American and for the next 45 minutes I never had to buy a drink. They were friendly and were not that interested in what I was doing in Tirrenia. They eluded to the fact that they knew I was a soldier and they were use to soldiers not being to specific on what they were up to or where they were from. I found out later Livorno, just down the road from Tirrenia, was the center for the Italian Communist Party. I gave no state secrets away.
My comrades and I met in the lobby and we discussed where to eat. No one but me was over the age of 21 so our food desires were not the same. One wanted to go back to Camp Darby because he saw a sign in the mess hall that informed everyone that it was Taco night at the bowling ally. Another saw a McDonald's sign as we came into town and thought that would be interesting. Yet another said he had walked a little bit around town and just down the block was a place that advertised American Pizza.
I was weary enough that I did not want to point out the obvious so I just told them we had been in each others company for over 24 hours and perhaps we ought to go our own separate ways that evening and meet up in the breakfast cafe which was on the second floor at six the next morning. Besides I said I was tired. I threw the senior sergeant my car keys and headed back to the America Bar for one more drink.
Breakfast was good. All you could eat buffet and part of the room price so we all were able to save part of our Per-Diem that morning. Eggs, bacon, sausage, something that looked like hash browns, oatmeal, flaked cereal, hard rolls, and, don't ask me why, pork and beans.
We piled into the BMW and headed to Camp Darby, that with pin and pencil we would begin doing our part to win the cold war.
Friday, November 19, 2010
Letters From the Last Frontier - Alaska, 2
3/22/2003
Dear Tucson Bunch,
Monday starts Louis Bunyon Days here in Hooper Bay. One might ask who is or was Louis Bunyon? Well I don't know. The best I can get out of anybody is that he was someone who did a lot for the community or influenced it in some way. If that be the case he might have been shot of like our own James brothers should have been. But then again no one who knows is telling me much.
Louis Bunyon Days is Hooper Bay's version of St. Patrik's Day (they have a parade,) Oktoberfest (without alcohol, lol,) Santacalogon and Rodeo Days.
The school does not close down but it might as well. Each teacher is supposed to have a four day program consisting of art and cultural Yupik stuff. The administration doesen't tell you how to do it however or provide any money to pay the locals. The shop teacher is making dog sled by scrounging up wood, another guy is making a drum, and I have a bunch of popcycle sticks I found so perhaps I will make a basket. My teaching partner George is cheating, he is hiring a local to come in and make masks and grass baskets. Of course the money he is spending is coming out of his own pocket, a dedicated guy. Perhaps I will do the same next year, or may be I will just send the kids out on the Tundra on a scavenger hunt and put on the list something like a bowling ball.
Anyway if I make it through the week I only have about seven to go. Oh, yes I have applied to teach summer school but either way I will be in the lower 48 for a visit.
Conley
Dear Tucson Bunch,
Monday starts Louis Bunyon Days here in Hooper Bay. One might ask who is or was Louis Bunyon? Well I don't know. The best I can get out of anybody is that he was someone who did a lot for the community or influenced it in some way. If that be the case he might have been shot of like our own James brothers should have been. But then again no one who knows is telling me much.
Louis Bunyon Days is Hooper Bay's version of St. Patrik's Day (they have a parade,) Oktoberfest (without alcohol, lol,) Santacalogon and Rodeo Days.
The school does not close down but it might as well. Each teacher is supposed to have a four day program consisting of art and cultural Yupik stuff. The administration doesen't tell you how to do it however or provide any money to pay the locals. The shop teacher is making dog sled by scrounging up wood, another guy is making a drum, and I have a bunch of popcycle sticks I found so perhaps I will make a basket. My teaching partner George is cheating, he is hiring a local to come in and make masks and grass baskets. Of course the money he is spending is coming out of his own pocket, a dedicated guy. Perhaps I will do the same next year, or may be I will just send the kids out on the Tundra on a scavenger hunt and put on the list something like a bowling ball.
Anyway if I make it through the week I only have about seven to go. Oh, yes I have applied to teach summer school but either way I will be in the lower 48 for a visit.
Conley
Thursday, November 18, 2010
It's Cold, It's Dark, It's Alaska
People ask now and then how I put up with the darkness and cold during the winter while living in Alaska.
That is sort of a misconception held by many in the lower 48. It is not dark all the time, at least not in Hooper Bay, Pitka's Point, or Noatak. Yes, it does get cold, but it gets cold in Independence also, albeit not for as long or perhaps as cold.
The sun usually came up around 11:30 a.m., and sat around 4:30 p.m., until the last part of December and then started to gain a few minutes of daylight every day. The only strange thing to me about that was the way the sun traversed the sky.
The sun appeared on the southeast horizon and then scooted along the southern edge of the earth until it eventually sat in the southwest. Purists and those who have lived up there for a long time could give you better coordinates, but you get the picture.
Some of the teachers really did have a problem with the whole thing , however, and my best friend up there suffered tremendously. So much so that he planned on only staying one year. He went into a depression about November and did not come out of it until around March.
I kept telling him it was because he was from Wisconsin and he couldn't make it to a Packers game, and the cheese he got up there was not the same, and beer was nowhere to be found at a reasonable price.
His wife installed indoor lighting designed to fight off the depression but it not work very will
It really is a problem, and I was blessed by not having the malady. The villagers seemed to adjust well and you never heard about any of them suffering from the problem, but sometimes I wonder if the higher-than-normal suicide rate and alcoholism could have been attributed to latitude.
I had the reverse problem with the sun. When I was teaching summer school it did not get completely dark until 1 a.m., and then the sun seemed to be shining like noon at 4 a.m.. This played havoc on my sleep cycle.
It is a strange sensation to be sitting looking out the window at midnight and not having to turn on the lights to read a book. Give me the dark and just a few hours of daylight anytime.
I guess if any natural happening effected me at all it was the lack of seasons. I have a brother who lives in Columbus, Ohio, and one of the reasons he moved from Tucson was that he missed the change in seasons.
There did not seem to be seasons in the places I lived in Alaska. There was winter, then a little less winter, a mild winter, and then winter again. Now and then the temperature rose to near 70 in July or August, and people complained that it was too hot and many of the kids cast off their clothes and jumped into the Bering Sea, Yukon or Noatak Rivers.
The cold is something you needed to deal with and deal with seriously. The Alaskan winter can be unforgiving. For instance if I wanted to go outside let's say for 15 minutes I would have to do the following. I slipped into a set of silk underwear and flannel pajamas I then put on a pair of insulated socks and carefully stuffed the tops up under my leggings. Over the flannel PJ's I put on a pair of jeans and a sweat shirt and top it off with a waterproof nylon set of bib overalls. I would bend down the best I could to put on insulated boots, tie them with bated breath, waddle to the closet and squeeze into my Colombian coat with hood, certified to 50 below. I'd don gloves, face mask, eye protectors, and skull cap. Putting on all that stuff did keep me warm and I hadn't been cold yet.
Some villagers now and then could be heard to say it was really cold out but did not complain. They were used to the cold and knew how to dress and survive in temperatures that fell well below the zero mark.
Besides if it gets really cold they told me they just stay inside. Very ingenious.
That is sort of a misconception held by many in the lower 48. It is not dark all the time, at least not in Hooper Bay, Pitka's Point, or Noatak. Yes, it does get cold, but it gets cold in Independence also, albeit not for as long or perhaps as cold.
The sun usually came up around 11:30 a.m., and sat around 4:30 p.m., until the last part of December and then started to gain a few minutes of daylight every day. The only strange thing to me about that was the way the sun traversed the sky.
The sun appeared on the southeast horizon and then scooted along the southern edge of the earth until it eventually sat in the southwest. Purists and those who have lived up there for a long time could give you better coordinates, but you get the picture.
Some of the teachers really did have a problem with the whole thing , however, and my best friend up there suffered tremendously. So much so that he planned on only staying one year. He went into a depression about November and did not come out of it until around March.
I kept telling him it was because he was from Wisconsin and he couldn't make it to a Packers game, and the cheese he got up there was not the same, and beer was nowhere to be found at a reasonable price.
His wife installed indoor lighting designed to fight off the depression but it not work very will
It really is a problem, and I was blessed by not having the malady. The villagers seemed to adjust well and you never heard about any of them suffering from the problem, but sometimes I wonder if the higher-than-normal suicide rate and alcoholism could have been attributed to latitude.
I had the reverse problem with the sun. When I was teaching summer school it did not get completely dark until 1 a.m., and then the sun seemed to be shining like noon at 4 a.m.. This played havoc on my sleep cycle.
It is a strange sensation to be sitting looking out the window at midnight and not having to turn on the lights to read a book. Give me the dark and just a few hours of daylight anytime.
I guess if any natural happening effected me at all it was the lack of seasons. I have a brother who lives in Columbus, Ohio, and one of the reasons he moved from Tucson was that he missed the change in seasons.
There did not seem to be seasons in the places I lived in Alaska. There was winter, then a little less winter, a mild winter, and then winter again. Now and then the temperature rose to near 70 in July or August, and people complained that it was too hot and many of the kids cast off their clothes and jumped into the Bering Sea, Yukon or Noatak Rivers.
The cold is something you needed to deal with and deal with seriously. The Alaskan winter can be unforgiving. For instance if I wanted to go outside let's say for 15 minutes I would have to do the following. I slipped into a set of silk underwear and flannel pajamas I then put on a pair of insulated socks and carefully stuffed the tops up under my leggings. Over the flannel PJ's I put on a pair of jeans and a sweat shirt and top it off with a waterproof nylon set of bib overalls. I would bend down the best I could to put on insulated boots, tie them with bated breath, waddle to the closet and squeeze into my Colombian coat with hood, certified to 50 below. I'd don gloves, face mask, eye protectors, and skull cap. Putting on all that stuff did keep me warm and I hadn't been cold yet.
Some villagers now and then could be heard to say it was really cold out but did not complain. They were used to the cold and knew how to dress and survive in temperatures that fell well below the zero mark.
Besides if it gets really cold they told me they just stay inside. Very ingenious.
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
Crisp Lake Chronicles - Vol 2
The Crisp Lake Chronicle 1950
The Crisp Lake Association Board of Directors was presented with the annual environmental award given by the Standard Hauling Institute of Technology Company of Maywood. The institute gave the award this year to the organization that did the most for the community to maintain high standards or excellence concerning the local community.
Details of the reasons of the award were not given but the Chronicle has found out what really happened and that the award was not given to those who are the real deserving.
When Homer Steinbeck first noticed the green and brown sludge looking material oozing out of the drainage line that feeds Crisp Lake he immediately called the health department. The inspector did not know what the problem was so he called the county engineer who was just a confounded and subsequently called the Army Corps of Engineers who was just as baffled. The Independence Health and Roads Department said they would be glad to help but it was out of their jurisdiction.
The Crisp Lake Association board held an emergency meeting and decided the best thing to do was to dam the drainage pipe line and build a hold pond to collect the debris, then they would have the Institute in Maywood haul the waist away. The vote was unanimous, yes build the dam.
The Woman's Axillary of the Crisp Lake Association thought other wise, especially Mrs. Sullivan. She thought that it would be best to get to the root of the problem and not just put a band aid via a dam and holding pond. The male board members told her that the problem was no longer worth looking into, the problem was solved and the source of the whatever would be impossible to trace.
Mrs. Sullivan was determined to find out the real problem. She and some of the auxiliary members met early one morning at the drainage pipe. She tied a rope around her waist and started crawling though the tunnel through the merk and mire. The rope was just in case she got lost in the tunnel and needed to be pulled out. With a flashlight she followed the green and brown sludge to a broken pipe just below a man hole leading to the surface. She stood up, lifted the man hole cover and found herself in the parking lot of the Standard Hauling Institute of Technology. She went directly to the managers office, after cutting the rope and giving it three tugs to let her ladies on the other end know that she was OK, and suggested he follow her back down the man hole. He reluctantly did and that is when he saw that the sewer pipe serving the facility and half of Maywood was draining directly into the pipe and thus into Crisp Lake.
The manager was embarrassed and asked if Mrs. Sullivan would not mention the problem because of the negative publicity. She agreed if the Crisp Lake Association would be given the prestigious award for environmental protection and that the lady auxiliary be given a cash donation.
The men built the dam and the holding pool, the Standard Hauling Institute of Technology kept their reputation in tact, and the Lady's Auxiliary received a nice little cash donation.
This brought to mind an old saying from a book I once read: If you have an impossible task to perform always give it to small children and women, they don't know it can't be done.
The Crisp Lake Association Board of Directors was presented with the annual environmental award given by the Standard Hauling Institute of Technology Company of Maywood. The institute gave the award this year to the organization that did the most for the community to maintain high standards or excellence concerning the local community.
Details of the reasons of the award were not given but the Chronicle has found out what really happened and that the award was not given to those who are the real deserving.
When Homer Steinbeck first noticed the green and brown sludge looking material oozing out of the drainage line that feeds Crisp Lake he immediately called the health department. The inspector did not know what the problem was so he called the county engineer who was just a confounded and subsequently called the Army Corps of Engineers who was just as baffled. The Independence Health and Roads Department said they would be glad to help but it was out of their jurisdiction.
The Crisp Lake Association board held an emergency meeting and decided the best thing to do was to dam the drainage pipe line and build a hold pond to collect the debris, then they would have the Institute in Maywood haul the waist away. The vote was unanimous, yes build the dam.
The Woman's Axillary of the Crisp Lake Association thought other wise, especially Mrs. Sullivan. She thought that it would be best to get to the root of the problem and not just put a band aid via a dam and holding pond. The male board members told her that the problem was no longer worth looking into, the problem was solved and the source of the whatever would be impossible to trace.
Mrs. Sullivan was determined to find out the real problem. She and some of the auxiliary members met early one morning at the drainage pipe. She tied a rope around her waist and started crawling though the tunnel through the merk and mire. The rope was just in case she got lost in the tunnel and needed to be pulled out. With a flashlight she followed the green and brown sludge to a broken pipe just below a man hole leading to the surface. She stood up, lifted the man hole cover and found herself in the parking lot of the Standard Hauling Institute of Technology. She went directly to the managers office, after cutting the rope and giving it three tugs to let her ladies on the other end know that she was OK, and suggested he follow her back down the man hole. He reluctantly did and that is when he saw that the sewer pipe serving the facility and half of Maywood was draining directly into the pipe and thus into Crisp Lake.
The manager was embarrassed and asked if Mrs. Sullivan would not mention the problem because of the negative publicity. She agreed if the Crisp Lake Association would be given the prestigious award for environmental protection and that the lady auxiliary be given a cash donation.
The men built the dam and the holding pool, the Standard Hauling Institute of Technology kept their reputation in tact, and the Lady's Auxiliary received a nice little cash donation.
This brought to mind an old saying from a book I once read: If you have an impossible task to perform always give it to small children and women, they don't know it can't be done.
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
Letters From the Last Frontier - Alaska, 1
April 2003
Hi Brother and Sister:
It is 10:30 Wednesday night, a little early to write my weekly up-date about the fun and adventures in the frozen north but nothing else to do.
I can read a newspaper while sitting outside. Why Alaska went to day light savings I have no idea. It does not get dark until around 11 and that wont be the case in a couple of weeks and this summer it really will be the Land of the Midnight Sun.
I have been trying to figure out when I will be coming through Tulsa and Chicago and will let you know later.
I walked down to the beach after school today but it ended up not being a good idea. Walking in the snow for two miles out and back and along the beach sort of wore me out. When I got to the beach I thought so what, I mean how much snow, ice and sea can one see without it becoming sort of meaningless. However I kept telling myself that not everyone goes to Alaska and I wanted the total experience. So walking along the beach along the Bering Sea 4000 miles away from home is sort of unique. I felt a little isolated, I could have dropped dead out there and my body would not be found until the middle of the summer if a wind storm came up.
The one thing I found very strange though was the silence. There was no noise. When was the last time you experienced no noise, nothing, nothing at all? It was really an odd feeling. I kept straining my ears to hear something but there was nothing. It reminded me of part of a poem, "There wasn't a breath in that land of death..." At least it was comforting to realize that I wasn't the first person to experience that, my mind must still be intact.
Love Snapper
Hi Brother and Sister:
It is 10:30 Wednesday night, a little early to write my weekly up-date about the fun and adventures in the frozen north but nothing else to do.
I can read a newspaper while sitting outside. Why Alaska went to day light savings I have no idea. It does not get dark until around 11 and that wont be the case in a couple of weeks and this summer it really will be the Land of the Midnight Sun.
I have been trying to figure out when I will be coming through Tulsa and Chicago and will let you know later.
I walked down to the beach after school today but it ended up not being a good idea. Walking in the snow for two miles out and back and along the beach sort of wore me out. When I got to the beach I thought so what, I mean how much snow, ice and sea can one see without it becoming sort of meaningless. However I kept telling myself that not everyone goes to Alaska and I wanted the total experience. So walking along the beach along the Bering Sea 4000 miles away from home is sort of unique. I felt a little isolated, I could have dropped dead out there and my body would not be found until the middle of the summer if a wind storm came up.
The one thing I found very strange though was the silence. There was no noise. When was the last time you experienced no noise, nothing, nothing at all? It was really an odd feeling. I kept straining my ears to hear something but there was nothing. It reminded me of part of a poem, "There wasn't a breath in that land of death..." At least it was comforting to realize that I wasn't the first person to experience that, my mind must still be intact.
Love Snapper
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