~ True Story ~ Saved By the Café Del-Mundo LATTE!
It was Memorial Day Sunday. Around town activities in Anchorage seemed to be on the quiet side – as fishing and camping excitement most likely dictated such an evacuation away from the city to the great outdoors. So after a stop at the local market, it was a stop in at Café Del Mundo for a much needed cup of coffee. It meant a latte, as it was Sunday and I deserved a little extra attention. And with chores out of the way - grocery shopping and returning a DVD called “Catch and Release” - I had planned to take my dog on a nice leisurely walk. It meant either Westchester Lagoon, or for ease of location, location, location, the hillside area. I have been living in Anchorage for some 18-years by now. As an Alaskan, about 30 winters total seems to ring a bell! Now many of us realize that the Anchorage bowl has become a haven for moose, which means the bears follow suit. So I am very cautious when it comes to picking a trail to get in a little exercise getaway that is close to home. With that in mind, I headed out to the lower hillside trail system just off of Abbott Road. Now today’s trail of choice skirts the road leading into the Hill-Top Ski area. It is a very popular place to bike, hike and just hang out bird watching. With that popularity, maybe the human activities are enough to keep the bears at bay, especially the big brown ones. Over the years on these very same trails, I have noticed very little bear signs – mostly signs belonging to black bears roaming through. Both species are here, no doubt about it, but most likely scarce and avoid human encounters. As mentioned before, with years of experience living in Alaska, one cannot help but come across black bears and brown bears alike – hopefully always from a distance. I have had my exchanges with these animals, but for the most part, it has been not such a close encounter and the bears surprised are seen heading away from any curious or compromising disposition. When I lived in Valdez, it was not unusual for the brown bears heading to fishing grounds to take advantage of the dog’s food bowl, right there in front of a scared dog. We could watch these episodes unfold through the living room window, no big deal it seemed. But even though I have had bears run across my trail and surprised them while berry picking, not once have I had the unfortunate opportunity to be the “chased”. Now normally I have my dog on a leash, just as a courtesy to other dog walkers. My dog doesn’t mind the leash, but also enjoys the freedom away from such. And today the parking area at the trailhead was pretty open, which meant a lack of hikers and dogs alike, so maybe the leash wasn’t necessary. Regardless, my dog stays close by my side, a good dog she is! It was a beautiful day and the cup of coffee – that latte – just seemed to tip the scale as a luxury in that life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness sentiment. What more could one ask for? Robins sang mating chants from above. Ravens flew over, grabbing the thermals off of the ski slopes. Gorgeous, right here in my own backyard! After a few minutes on the trail towards the ski area’s parking lot, I noticed my dog acting a little strange, from something behind on the trail section we had just traversed. I thought, maybe it was just another dog heading our direction. No big deal, as my dog sticks with me and it would be very easy to get a quick leash-up. But then it happened. So quickly, time did indeed stand still. From behind, a brown bear rounded the corner. My dog’s hairdo went “spiked”. The approaching bear didn’t waste anytime picking up speed towards my position, with the dog at my side. I yelled, not once but many times. The bear seemed to heal to my commands, but it was inching closer and closer. It was over curious. There was no way that I was going to keel over and play dead, not right here and now in the middle of nowhere. What for? So we started hoofing it, to see if the bear would loose interest. It wasn’t a panic run yet, just an attempt to throw doubt that we were not an interest or threat. The bear was still coming our direction. I stopped, yelled again, and the bear seemed to once again accommodate the demands to hold-off. This continued, as I tried to figure a way out of this mess. There were no trees to climb, plus dogs don’t climb trees, even though my dog is considered part “tree” dog. So it went on and on. We would retreat, the bear would advance. Then I would some how get up the courage to let out another yell. Stopping to yell allows what safe distance there was to diminish exponentially, believe me. Seconds are so precious in situations where time is of the essence. And one-step forward for this human meant three steps forward for the beast. That is how big this thing was. It was gaining as we were loosing our ground. It had a beautiful color to its face, prime shape I remember thinking. I must have been going crazy at this stage in the game, to think about things other then survival! Like a plea bargain I guess. It was amazing how this mass of muscle and fur rambled about, so quiet and elegantly, almost like a ballerina on tiptoes. I was going crazy. Now I knew that the beaten path could be exited and I could run down the hill and easily link up with the paved road that could provide an escape. And my hope was that there would be enough traffic to scare the bear off and maybe I could find a “good” Samaritan to lend a much needed helping hand. All it would take is the blast of a horn, as noise seemed to deter the bear’s advances. So with one last gigantic all-out yell, I changed my direction and headed off the trail, hopefully to freedom at last. It was interesting how my dog stayed right by my side, without any attempt to stray away. Like maybe the yelling was enough to alarm the dog that something was indeed wrong with this situation at hand. Maybe the dog knew what was at stake if we didn’t get away. I must re-iterate, time did indeed stand still up to this point. As we hit the sloping and unfamiliar terrain, it was tough going right off the bat, as there was no real path to follow. Next thing you know, I am head over heals. My nice felt beret goes airborne. My Café Del Mundo coffee goes flying and I hit the ground and get gouged by a stubborn branch, it hurts. I am momentarily grounded. But think, that pain cannot be as bad as a claw infliction or jaw bite. I can almost feel it happening, like a glimpse into the future. An adrenalin rush to judgment I guess. I look up, hoping that maybe the bear went in the other direction. WRONG I was. There it was heading through the underbrush in a lackadaisical manner as if this animal knew this human was out of his element and there was no real reason to get overly excited about this chase. The chase seemed to be over! I started having these nightmarish flashes of how this day was going to end. It was doomsday. But then like a miracle, the bear took an interest in something that had evaded my grasp during the falling out. It started relishing the contents remaining in the coffee cup, the latte! It was lapping it down, just 10-feet away from my “grave” position. It was indeed a beautiful blonde and glossy-brown streaked bear, with a big head and stuffed animal like ears - indicative that it was a young bear. My viewing angle was so close that it showed dental problems were not yet a problem for this maybe 3-year old bruin. Now normally I do go into bear country prepared, with one of those big cans of bear spray and a few safety flares. But all I had this time around was a Café Del Mundo coffee, given away not by choice but through fate. The bear stopped its so far seemingly non-aggressive “chase” and continued licking the coffee spill. It was enough of a reprieve to get myself back on foot, realizing that this situation was still critical and it was time to get back on the course to somewhere. My dog and I found the road. But we were about to realize that when things get pretty slow around these places – like on holiday Sundays – traffic and that “good” Samaritan thing seemed to be few and far between wishful thinking. And we were just a few seconds late in flagging down the guy that runs the horse riding business out of the ski area. I would find out later that he heard somebody yelling but thought it was another horse rider. At this point in this “catch and release” game, I was totally exhausted. It was indeed nothing short of an adrenalin “high” rush that was keeping me going. To at least reach the pavement signaled success. I needed to rest, but as soon as that thought crossed my mind, the bear had also found the paved road and was trying to catch up on lost time. The bear liked playing this “game”. Where was the traffic that would normally be up and down this road? So it was again a game of pause, yell and attempt a getaway. But the bear now realized that it had fallen behind in its pursuit - by taking time to enjoy the coffee latte - wherein it necessitated a gallop approach. Again, it was a unique choreographed display of mass and muscle. My as well enjoy it I thought, as there seemed to be no way for a win on win situation here today. Then to my greatest of desires, a vehicle was just exiting the ski area parking lot - towards my direction. I noticed the lady open the doors, so the real run to freedom was on – there was hope. My dog was way ahead of me, as this faithful canine companion knew all too well what was going on, even though she looked confused. But it was easy to realize that time, even though it was standing still, had run its course. Like this was the last ditch effort action, I was so close to the finish line! But I was totally exhausted. I was ready to drop and call it quits by playing dead. But the adrenalin was still going and the fact that the bear was still playing catch-up made for another attempt to safety. It was there, just a few hundred yards away. I picked up a big stick that just happened to be hanging out on the side of the road – how convenient I thought. I guess that saying that “luck is merely a virtue of coincidence” holds water. It was the only weapon at my disposal, it would have to do. I waved it back and forth, jumping around like a crazy maniac. I was making weird like yelling sounds. I laughed to myself, don’t ask me why! Then the bear seemed to get excited and backed off. I was gaining ground, or maybe the bear was starting to have second thoughts in unfamiliar territory, like paved roads. Then I remember how good it felt to grab the door handle of the “good” Samaritan’s vehicle. I really don’t remember what transpired from the stick waving to the safety of her vehicle. The lady seemed to also be in a state of shock, as she was witnessing the entire chase right in front of her very own eyes. Where’s a camera crew when you need one? Soon the bear was spooked off, back into its own domain of woods. It took me about ten minutes to catch my composure in efforts to explain to this “good” Samaritan what had happened. She drove me back to my car and also went about to warn other hikers out and about with details of the incident. I was still recovering from the adrenalin rush. My dog was safe. I was safe. I lost a favorite hat. But in the end, I swear it was the Café Del Mundo Latte that saved my “you know what”, by buying time away from the beast of burden. Of the few sips I remember enjoying before all you know what broke loose, it was one fine cup. So thanks to that friendly “barista” that made such a fine cup. The bear seemed to like it! And thanks to that “good” Samaritan that just happened to be in the right place at the right time. If she reads this story, the latte’s on me. So let me end by telling this about that. The experts will tell you what and what not to do when a bear gives chase. It happens so quickly and quietly, one must let that adrenalin pursue the “proper” course of action. What that action is may be everything and anything. And I also offer this added advantage, by one individual that has had such an experience of “catch and release” and lived to tell about it. Bring a “latte” along with you during your off the beaten track excursions, it may be your only saving grace in the Big Wild’s of Anchorage!
CopyRight 2007 MSK Media/Eagle Rock Press – Reprinting Permitted
CopyRight 2008 – Dixie Productions/MSK Media/Eagle Rock PressContact: Storylineonline@gci.net or www.Storylineonline.com or www.chinookjournal.blogspot.com
Monday, June 30, 2008
Soccer Moms & Bears
So, with so much construction up at Kincaid this summer, it caused the 24-hour bike marathon to find a different venue. With that, we have what everybody has been waiting for and hoping not, a bear mauling. So who is to blame, if anyone? Out at Kincaid, where this race had roots, there is construction going on to build soccer fields, soccer stadiums, soccer refreshment stands and soccer mom gossiping bleaches. All for soccer! And soccer field scared animals running for cover, or like the bike racers, a new venue. About 5-years ago the little leaguers proposed and built four new ball fields on Abbot Loop Road. What was once a little off the beaten path trailhead is now a world-class parking lot with amenities. The amenities include a summertime host, as vandalism - which was for so long limited to a moose eating bark - it is now humanized. But for one thing, no longer do the residents of the nearby Zodiac Subdivision have to worry about proper placement of garbage, as bears that at one time frequented this area have moved north, towards the river. So as crowded corners makes it more and more difficult for a bear to take a shit in the woods peacefully, our activities are inundating that species livelihood. Now there are many that said it was an accident waiting to happen – this mauling. I question such premeditated wisdom, as I am not a fortune future teller. But about a year ago, I too was chased and pursued by a Brown bear. I used everything I had heard and learned about with respect to close encounters with the wild ones challenging my survival. It worked, but it scared the heck out of me. It was just too close an encounter wherein I would find myself very cognizant of where I would feel free to exercise. A place free from such encounters means a gym! For the last summer - and still gun shy - I have driven over towards the Hilltop ski area, as this used to be my favorite space, until the brown encounter. And I would wonder, as it seems what used to be a pretty limited use area is all so popular nowadays. So the clientele have increased in numbers. Kids on training bikes, people with packs of canines running free, bicycles to horses. So have the wild animals increased in numbers, as this area provides a cornucopia of provisions, for survival! So we have before us a bottle-neck situation wherein something has to give. Living in harmony works some of the time but not all of the time – like on a bad news bear day. As lands once roamed free by all continue to be stripped away for soccer and baseball, it means less room to roam for the moose and bears and us. Where does one draw the line? Just how much in combination can this Anchorage bowl put up with? We have been lucky, that it is so far been few and far between with life threatening close calls. Amen. But now we focus on that young girl struggling for life, when she was just outdoors having fun. Nobody was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Sharing has its limitations. The 1-pound bag is being tested, but the contents don’t commingle. What answers to this dilemma beg my curiosity! But my bear encounter story had a happy ending, so with that, it is re-printed, just to focus on the fact that encounters are unpredictable. For myself, it was a happy ending and now I am more focused on the issues at hand. Bears are part of the system of checks and balances around this Anchorage bowl, when I am merely a visitor allowing respect for that sentiment. Again, I have not answers, just my own experiences.
~ True Story ~ Saved By the Café Del-Mundo LATTE!
It was Memorial Day Sunday. Around town activities in Anchorage seemed to be on the quiet side – as fishing and camping excitement most likely dictated such an evacuation away from the city to the great outdoors. So after a stop at the local market, it was a stop in at Café Del Mundo for a much needed cup of coffee. It meant a latte, as it was Sunday and I deserved a little extra attention. And with chores out of the way - grocery shopping and returning a DVD called “Catch and Release” - I had planned to take my dog on a nice leisurely walk. It meant either Westchester Lagoon, or for ease of location, location, location, the hillside area. I have been living in Anchorage for some 18-years by now. As an Alaskan, about 30 winters total seems to ring a bell! Now many of us realize that the Anchorage bowl has become a haven for moose, which means the bears follow suit. So I am very cautious when it comes to picking a trail to get in a little exercise getaway that is close to home. With that in mind, I headed out to the lower hillside trail system just off of Abbott Road. Now today’s trail of choice skirts the road leading into the Hill-Top Ski area. It is a very popular place to bike, hike and just hang out bird watching. With that popularity, maybe the human activities are enough to keep the bears at bay, especially the big brown ones. Over the years on these very same trails, I have noticed very little bear signs – mostly signs belonging to black bears roaming through. Both species are here, no doubt about it, but most likely scarce and avoid human encounters. As mentioned before, with years of experience living in Alaska, one cannot help but come across black bears and brown bears alike – hopefully always from a distance. I have had my exchanges with these animals, but for the most part, it has been not such a close encounter and the bears surprised are seen heading away from any curious or compromising disposition. When I lived in Valdez, it was not unusual for the brown bears heading to fishing grounds to take advantage of the dog’s food bowl, right there in front of a scared dog. We could watch these episodes unfold through the living room window, no big deal it seemed. But even though I have had bears run across my trail and surprised them while berry picking, not once have I had the unfortunate opportunity to be the “chased”. Now normally I have my dog on a leash, just as a courtesy to other dog walkers. My dog doesn’t mind the leash, but also enjoys the freedom away from such. And today the parking area at the trailhead was pretty open, which meant a lack of hikers and dogs alike, so maybe the leash wasn’t necessary. Regardless, my dog stays close by my side, a good dog she is! It was a beautiful day and the cup of coffee – that latte – just seemed to tip the scale as a luxury in that life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness sentiment. What more could one ask for? Robins sang mating chants from above. Ravens flew over, grabbing the thermals off of the ski slopes. Gorgeous, right here in my own backyard! After a few minutes on the trail towards the ski area’s parking lot, I noticed my dog acting a little strange, from something behind on the trail section we had just traversed. I thought, maybe it was just another dog heading our direction. No big deal, as my dog sticks with me and it would be very easy to get a quick leash-up. But then it happened. So quickly, time did indeed stand still. From behind, a brown bear rounded the corner. My dog’s hairdo went “spiked”. The approaching bear didn’t waste anytime picking up speed towards my position, with the dog at my side. I yelled, not once but many times. The bear seemed to heal to my commands, but it was inching closer and closer. It was over curious. There was no way that I was going to keel over and play dead, not right here and now in the middle of nowhere. What for? So we started hoofing it, to see if the bear would loose interest. It wasn’t a panic run yet, just an attempt to throw doubt that we were not an interest or threat. The bear was still coming our direction. I stopped, yelled again, and the bear seemed to once again accommodate the demands to hold-off. This continued, as I tried to figure a way out of this mess. There were no trees to climb, plus dogs don’t climb trees, even though my dog is considered part “tree” dog. So it went on and on. We would retreat, the bear would advance. Then I would some how get up the courage to let out another yell. Stopping to yell allows what safe distance there was to diminish exponentially, believe me. Seconds are so precious in situations where time is of the essence. And one-step forward for this human meant three steps forward for the beast. That is how big this thing was. It was gaining as we were loosing our ground. It had a beautiful color to its face, prime shape I remember thinking. I must have been going crazy at this stage in the game, to think about things other then survival! Like a plea bargain I guess. It was amazing how this mass of muscle and fur rambled about, so quiet and elegantly, almost like a ballerina on tiptoes. I was going crazy. Now I knew that the beaten path could be exited and I could run down the hill and easily link up with the paved road that could provide an escape. And my hope was that there would be enough traffic to scare the bear off and maybe I could find a “good” Samaritan to lend a much needed helping hand. All it would take is the blast of a horn, as noise seemed to deter the bear’s advances. So with one last gigantic all-out yell, I changed my direction and headed off the trail, hopefully to freedom at last. It was interesting how my dog stayed right by my side, without any attempt to stray away. Like maybe the yelling was enough to alarm the dog that something was indeed wrong with this situation at hand. Maybe the dog knew what was at stake if we didn’t get away. I must re-iterate, time did indeed stand still up to this point. As we hit the sloping and unfamiliar terrain, it was tough going right off the bat, as there was no real path to follow. Next thing you know, I am head over heals. My nice felt beret goes airborne. My Café Del Mundo coffee goes flying and I hit the ground and get gouged by a stubborn branch, it hurts. I am momentarily grounded. But think, that pain cannot be as bad as a claw infliction or jaw bite. I can almost feel it happening, like a glimpse into the future. An adrenalin rush to judgment I guess. I look up, hoping that maybe the bear went in the other direction. WRONG I was. There it was heading through the underbrush in a lackadaisical manner as if this animal knew this human was out of his element and there was no real reason to get overly excited about this chase. The chase seemed to be over! I started having these nightmarish flashes of how this day was going to end. It was doomsday. But then like a miracle, the bear took an interest in something that had evaded my grasp during the falling out. It started relishing the contents remaining in the coffee cup, the latte! It was lapping it down, just 10-feet away from my “grave” position. It was indeed a beautiful blonde and glossy-brown streaked bear, with a big head and stuffed animal like ears - indicative that it was a young bear. My viewing angle was so close that it showed dental problems were not yet a problem for this maybe 3-year old bruin. Now normally I do go into bear country prepared, with one of those big cans of bear spray and a few safety flares. But all I had this time around was a Café Del Mundo coffee, given away not by choice but through fate. The bear stopped its so far seemingly non-aggressive “chase” and continued licking the coffee spill. It was enough of a reprieve to get myself back on foot, realizing that this situation was still critical and it was time to get back on the course to somewhere. My dog and I found the road. But we were about to realize that when things get pretty slow around these places – like on holiday Sundays – traffic and that “good” Samaritan thing seemed to be few and far between wishful thinking. And we were just a few seconds late in flagging down the guy that runs the horse riding business out of the ski area. I would find out later that he heard somebody yelling but thought it was another horse rider. At this point in this “catch and release” game, I was totally exhausted. It was indeed nothing short of an adrenalin “high” rush that was keeping me going. To at least reach the pavement signaled success. I needed to rest, but as soon as that thought crossed my mind, the bear had also found the paved road and was trying to catch up on lost time. The bear liked playing this “game”. Where was the traffic that would normally be up and down this road? So it was again a game of pause, yell and attempt a getaway. But the bear now realized that it had fallen behind in its pursuit - by taking time to enjoy the coffee latte - wherein it necessitated a gallop approach. Again, it was a unique choreographed display of mass and muscle. My as well enjoy it I thought, as there seemed to be no way for a win on win situation here today. Then to my greatest of desires, a vehicle was just exiting the ski area parking lot - towards my direction. I noticed the lady open the doors, so the real run to freedom was on – there was hope. My dog was way ahead of me, as this faithful canine companion knew all too well what was going on, even though she looked confused. But it was easy to realize that time, even though it was standing still, had run its course. Like this was the last ditch effort action, I was so close to the finish line! But I was totally exhausted. I was ready to drop and call it quits by playing dead. But the adrenalin was still going and the fact that the bear was still playing catch-up made for another attempt to safety. It was there, just a few hundred yards away. I picked up a big stick that just happened to be hanging out on the side of the road – how convenient I thought. I guess that saying that “luck is merely a virtue of coincidence” holds water. It was the only weapon at my disposal, it would have to do. I waved it back and forth, jumping around like a crazy maniac. I was making weird like yelling sounds. I laughed to myself, don’t ask me why! Then the bear seemed to get excited and backed off. I was gaining ground, or maybe the bear was starting to have second thoughts in unfamiliar territory, like paved roads. Then I remember how good it felt to grab the door handle of the “good” Samaritan’s vehicle. I really don’t remember what transpired from the stick waving to the safety of her vehicle. The lady seemed to also be in a state of shock, as she was witnessing the entire chase right in front of her very own eyes. Where’s a camera crew when you need one? Soon the bear was spooked off, back into its own domain of woods. It took me about ten minutes to catch my composure in efforts to explain to this “good” Samaritan what had happened. She drove me back to my car and also went about to warn other hikers out and about with details of the incident. I was still recovering from the adrenalin rush. My dog was safe. I was safe. I lost a favorite hat. But in the end, I swear it was the Café Del Mundo Latte that saved my “you know what”, by buying time away from the beast of burden. Of the few sips I remember enjoying before all you know what broke loose, it was one fine cup. So thanks to that friendly “barista” that made such a fine cup. The bear seemed to like it! And thanks to that “good” Samaritan that just happened to be in the right place at the right time. If she reads this story, the latte’s on me. So let me end by telling this about that. The experts will tell you what and what not to do when a bear gives chase. It happens so quickly and quietly, one must let that adrenalin pursue the “proper” course of action. What that action is may be everything and anything. And I also offer this added advantage, by one individual that has had such an experience of “catch and release” and lived to tell about it. Bring a “latte” along with you during your off the beaten track excursions, it may be your only saving grace in the Big Wild’s of Anchorage!
CopyRight 2007 MSK Media/Eagle Rock Press – Reprinting Permitted
CopyRight 2008 – Dixie Productions/MSK Media/Eagle Rock Press
Contact: Storylineonline@gci.net or www.Storylineonline.com or www.chinookjournal.blogspot.com
~ True Story ~ Saved By the Café Del-Mundo LATTE!
It was Memorial Day Sunday. Around town activities in Anchorage seemed to be on the quiet side – as fishing and camping excitement most likely dictated such an evacuation away from the city to the great outdoors. So after a stop at the local market, it was a stop in at Café Del Mundo for a much needed cup of coffee. It meant a latte, as it was Sunday and I deserved a little extra attention. And with chores out of the way - grocery shopping and returning a DVD called “Catch and Release” - I had planned to take my dog on a nice leisurely walk. It meant either Westchester Lagoon, or for ease of location, location, location, the hillside area. I have been living in Anchorage for some 18-years by now. As an Alaskan, about 30 winters total seems to ring a bell! Now many of us realize that the Anchorage bowl has become a haven for moose, which means the bears follow suit. So I am very cautious when it comes to picking a trail to get in a little exercise getaway that is close to home. With that in mind, I headed out to the lower hillside trail system just off of Abbott Road. Now today’s trail of choice skirts the road leading into the Hill-Top Ski area. It is a very popular place to bike, hike and just hang out bird watching. With that popularity, maybe the human activities are enough to keep the bears at bay, especially the big brown ones. Over the years on these very same trails, I have noticed very little bear signs – mostly signs belonging to black bears roaming through. Both species are here, no doubt about it, but most likely scarce and avoid human encounters. As mentioned before, with years of experience living in Alaska, one cannot help but come across black bears and brown bears alike – hopefully always from a distance. I have had my exchanges with these animals, but for the most part, it has been not such a close encounter and the bears surprised are seen heading away from any curious or compromising disposition. When I lived in Valdez, it was not unusual for the brown bears heading to fishing grounds to take advantage of the dog’s food bowl, right there in front of a scared dog. We could watch these episodes unfold through the living room window, no big deal it seemed. But even though I have had bears run across my trail and surprised them while berry picking, not once have I had the unfortunate opportunity to be the “chased”. Now normally I have my dog on a leash, just as a courtesy to other dog walkers. My dog doesn’t mind the leash, but also enjoys the freedom away from such. And today the parking area at the trailhead was pretty open, which meant a lack of hikers and dogs alike, so maybe the leash wasn’t necessary. Regardless, my dog stays close by my side, a good dog she is! It was a beautiful day and the cup of coffee – that latte – just seemed to tip the scale as a luxury in that life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness sentiment. What more could one ask for? Robins sang mating chants from above. Ravens flew over, grabbing the thermals off of the ski slopes. Gorgeous, right here in my own backyard! After a few minutes on the trail towards the ski area’s parking lot, I noticed my dog acting a little strange, from something behind on the trail section we had just traversed. I thought, maybe it was just another dog heading our direction. No big deal, as my dog sticks with me and it would be very easy to get a quick leash-up. But then it happened. So quickly, time did indeed stand still. From behind, a brown bear rounded the corner. My dog’s hairdo went “spiked”. The approaching bear didn’t waste anytime picking up speed towards my position, with the dog at my side. I yelled, not once but many times. The bear seemed to heal to my commands, but it was inching closer and closer. It was over curious. There was no way that I was going to keel over and play dead, not right here and now in the middle of nowhere. What for? So we started hoofing it, to see if the bear would loose interest. It wasn’t a panic run yet, just an attempt to throw doubt that we were not an interest or threat. The bear was still coming our direction. I stopped, yelled again, and the bear seemed to once again accommodate the demands to hold-off. This continued, as I tried to figure a way out of this mess. There were no trees to climb, plus dogs don’t climb trees, even though my dog is considered part “tree” dog. So it went on and on. We would retreat, the bear would advance. Then I would some how get up the courage to let out another yell. Stopping to yell allows what safe distance there was to diminish exponentially, believe me. Seconds are so precious in situations where time is of the essence. And one-step forward for this human meant three steps forward for the beast. That is how big this thing was. It was gaining as we were loosing our ground. It had a beautiful color to its face, prime shape I remember thinking. I must have been going crazy at this stage in the game, to think about things other then survival! Like a plea bargain I guess. It was amazing how this mass of muscle and fur rambled about, so quiet and elegantly, almost like a ballerina on tiptoes. I was going crazy. Now I knew that the beaten path could be exited and I could run down the hill and easily link up with the paved road that could provide an escape. And my hope was that there would be enough traffic to scare the bear off and maybe I could find a “good” Samaritan to lend a much needed helping hand. All it would take is the blast of a horn, as noise seemed to deter the bear’s advances. So with one last gigantic all-out yell, I changed my direction and headed off the trail, hopefully to freedom at last. It was interesting how my dog stayed right by my side, without any attempt to stray away. Like maybe the yelling was enough to alarm the dog that something was indeed wrong with this situation at hand. Maybe the dog knew what was at stake if we didn’t get away. I must re-iterate, time did indeed stand still up to this point. As we hit the sloping and unfamiliar terrain, it was tough going right off the bat, as there was no real path to follow. Next thing you know, I am head over heals. My nice felt beret goes airborne. My Café Del Mundo coffee goes flying and I hit the ground and get gouged by a stubborn branch, it hurts. I am momentarily grounded. But think, that pain cannot be as bad as a claw infliction or jaw bite. I can almost feel it happening, like a glimpse into the future. An adrenalin rush to judgment I guess. I look up, hoping that maybe the bear went in the other direction. WRONG I was. There it was heading through the underbrush in a lackadaisical manner as if this animal knew this human was out of his element and there was no real reason to get overly excited about this chase. The chase seemed to be over! I started having these nightmarish flashes of how this day was going to end. It was doomsday. But then like a miracle, the bear took an interest in something that had evaded my grasp during the falling out. It started relishing the contents remaining in the coffee cup, the latte! It was lapping it down, just 10-feet away from my “grave” position. It was indeed a beautiful blonde and glossy-brown streaked bear, with a big head and stuffed animal like ears - indicative that it was a young bear. My viewing angle was so close that it showed dental problems were not yet a problem for this maybe 3-year old bruin. Now normally I do go into bear country prepared, with one of those big cans of bear spray and a few safety flares. But all I had this time around was a Café Del Mundo coffee, given away not by choice but through fate. The bear stopped its so far seemingly non-aggressive “chase” and continued licking the coffee spill. It was enough of a reprieve to get myself back on foot, realizing that this situation was still critical and it was time to get back on the course to somewhere. My dog and I found the road. But we were about to realize that when things get pretty slow around these places – like on holiday Sundays – traffic and that “good” Samaritan thing seemed to be few and far between wishful thinking. And we were just a few seconds late in flagging down the guy that runs the horse riding business out of the ski area. I would find out later that he heard somebody yelling but thought it was another horse rider. At this point in this “catch and release” game, I was totally exhausted. It was indeed nothing short of an adrenalin “high” rush that was keeping me going. To at least reach the pavement signaled success. I needed to rest, but as soon as that thought crossed my mind, the bear had also found the paved road and was trying to catch up on lost time. The bear liked playing this “game”. Where was the traffic that would normally be up and down this road? So it was again a game of pause, yell and attempt a getaway. But the bear now realized that it had fallen behind in its pursuit - by taking time to enjoy the coffee latte - wherein it necessitated a gallop approach. Again, it was a unique choreographed display of mass and muscle. My as well enjoy it I thought, as there seemed to be no way for a win on win situation here today. Then to my greatest of desires, a vehicle was just exiting the ski area parking lot - towards my direction. I noticed the lady open the doors, so the real run to freedom was on – there was hope. My dog was way ahead of me, as this faithful canine companion knew all too well what was going on, even though she looked confused. But it was easy to realize that time, even though it was standing still, had run its course. Like this was the last ditch effort action, I was so close to the finish line! But I was totally exhausted. I was ready to drop and call it quits by playing dead. But the adrenalin was still going and the fact that the bear was still playing catch-up made for another attempt to safety. It was there, just a few hundred yards away. I picked up a big stick that just happened to be hanging out on the side of the road – how convenient I thought. I guess that saying that “luck is merely a virtue of coincidence” holds water. It was the only weapon at my disposal, it would have to do. I waved it back and forth, jumping around like a crazy maniac. I was making weird like yelling sounds. I laughed to myself, don’t ask me why! Then the bear seemed to get excited and backed off. I was gaining ground, or maybe the bear was starting to have second thoughts in unfamiliar territory, like paved roads. Then I remember how good it felt to grab the door handle of the “good” Samaritan’s vehicle. I really don’t remember what transpired from the stick waving to the safety of her vehicle. The lady seemed to also be in a state of shock, as she was witnessing the entire chase right in front of her very own eyes. Where’s a camera crew when you need one? Soon the bear was spooked off, back into its own domain of woods. It took me about ten minutes to catch my composure in efforts to explain to this “good” Samaritan what had happened. She drove me back to my car and also went about to warn other hikers out and about with details of the incident. I was still recovering from the adrenalin rush. My dog was safe. I was safe. I lost a favorite hat. But in the end, I swear it was the Café Del Mundo Latte that saved my “you know what”, by buying time away from the beast of burden. Of the few sips I remember enjoying before all you know what broke loose, it was one fine cup. So thanks to that friendly “barista” that made such a fine cup. The bear seemed to like it! And thanks to that “good” Samaritan that just happened to be in the right place at the right time. If she reads this story, the latte’s on me. So let me end by telling this about that. The experts will tell you what and what not to do when a bear gives chase. It happens so quickly and quietly, one must let that adrenalin pursue the “proper” course of action. What that action is may be everything and anything. And I also offer this added advantage, by one individual that has had such an experience of “catch and release” and lived to tell about it. Bring a “latte” along with you during your off the beaten track excursions, it may be your only saving grace in the Big Wild’s of Anchorage!
CopyRight 2007 MSK Media/Eagle Rock Press – Reprinting Permitted
CopyRight 2008 – Dixie Productions/MSK Media/Eagle Rock Press
Contact: Storylineonline@gci.net or www.Storylineonline.com or www.chinookjournal.blogspot.com
ALASKA, We're Out!
I decided to take in the festivities for the 50th anniversary of statehood. In fact, after listening to U.S. Senator under investigation Ted “Ben’s Dad” Stevens on NPR, I wanted to be a real Alaskan, by using another mode of transportation to get from hilltown to downtown. So it meant the bike. Now it was June 28th, supposedly summer. But Mr. Fahrenheit said it was 48-degrees and there was this stiff wind coming out of the North, East, South and West all at the same time. So the wind acted like a cyclone wind chill – just above freezing. Now Ted and company recently made fame by winning the coveted Blue Shield award, for logging the most miles on foot as an alternative means of getting around town – way back in D.C. that is. That award allowed the lobbying insurance firm to give a hefty donation to the “Special Olympics”, in honor of Ted. Remember, Alaska State Senator under investigation Ben “Ted’s Son” Stevens was president of the “Alaskan Special Olympics” and made over 2-million dollars, by honor of Ted. See, statehood has been very lucrative to the Stevens’ fan club. Anyway, Ted’s office logged some 7000-miles! Wow. According to Ted, no the pedometers were not attached to pet dogs. Now lets face the facts, Ted has “zero” credibility with the “Public”, so he made this “crap” up on the air. Isn’t there a reason for the FCC? It goes to show desperate times upon us when Ted has to move over to public radio for coverage. Now according to Ted, his staff won the award because Alaskans walk a whole lot. We also get obese a whole, whole lot! Just the fact that Alaskans are outsiders, doesn’t mean spending a lot of time outside. And Ted, if not yet informed, in Anchorage it is well known that to walk or bike is definitely taking an outsiders approach at reality. It is dangerous! This city has less of a walking public then the North Pole. In fact, try walking in the wintertime. It is not possible as the roads get plowed but not the sidewalks! Anyway, I headed down to the festivities, good thing I had my headband. Ah, statehood I pondered. Roads in disrepair, failed project after project, all funded by the unwilling U.S. taxpayers, because we “Are In”. As the aroma of sewage systems on overload made it mandatory to pull the headband down around my nose, I contemplated success, at least it is not the “Honey Buckets” anymore. The path of my ventures took me past modern homes made from cardboard. This was within eyesight of the bike and walking paths. Yes, one can find homeless shelters from the hillside all the way to downtown. Now these shelters have become “camps”, to house not individuals but families. And rape is a major problem along the paths. So I would have to say that the litmus test of success upon statehood granted is still out for the verdict. Sure this sate has a mind boggling list of failed projects that should have never been allowed to get off the drawing boards, but we never tried to succeed at the basic necessities, as we were too busy trying to make a name for the state and instead we fell down on our nerdy knees and became welfare central. And our destiny was controlled by corruption, therefore we gained the label of the “Corrupt Bastard State”, controlled by the Corrupt Bastards Club. Actually, I honestly thought that the 50th should have been cancelled, as this state can’t even keep a dairy in operation. There is not one other state in the Union that doesn’t have a “dairy”. The basic necessities of life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness come from the cream! Anyway, I just happened to make it downtown when Mrs. Vogue Mature - a.k.a. governess Sarah Palin - was giving her speech. With the wind blowing, nobody could hear what she was saying. I am sure it was a pitch for AGIA, her failed gas line proposal. And did you get a look at all the angry faces out and about the festivities? From tourists who were told it was summer in Alaska! It was brutally cold! And with the cloud cover the last few weeks, the visiting population is convinced that the “Big Mountain” is a myth. I always wonder what statehood has actually done for this state. After all these years and efforts and money, there is no infrastructure to boast about. Just look across the Knik bay. That ugly looking thing protruding out across the water is Don Young’s failed wood chip money waste. Oh well. Soon I engaged myself in a conversation with a tourist that was shivering. I explained to him the sweet and the sour aspect of statehood. Alaska is the state with the largest oil reserves. Yes, we agreed. Alaska is also the state that is the biggest recipient of U.S. sponsored welfare, courtesy Ted, Don and MoanaLisa. When I told Mr. Interested Tourist how much this state garnishes away from the U.S. Treasury, he said he was going to stop paying taxes. Good luck, remember, Ted is ahead of everybody. I honestly believe that Ted’s staff came up with the bright idea to place the pedometers on pet dogs. It just fits what we have come to understand goes on with our cucumber incumbent nepotism representatives. Anyway, as the corny festivities went on, I sat down just to watch the tourists and crowds. Noticed a whole lot of VECO hats along with CBC sponsors – it means Corrupt Bastards Club. See, who in hell would wear a VECO hat these days? Or a CBC hat? As if we are proud of the affiliation. Now a guy named Sam became a friend. He was a homeless guy, could tell by the musty odor. He went on to tell me about his career, as a street person. He was a little on the inebriated side, but damn, it was cold out. So can’t really blame him. See, statehood allowed some things to head in the right direction but like most things in this state, ended on the road to failure. Maybe one saving grace thing about going “statehood” was settling with the rightful landowners, equitably instead of eminent domain ripping. And instead of reservations, the natives of Alaska went smart on Uncle Sam. So corporations were started, during the Native Claims Settlement Act. This was something that came from the statehood act but wasn’t rectified until the state gave away its resources for pennies on the dollar and a pipeline made the news. Anyway, money was set aside to start corporations that could become self-sufficient. The seed money was invested to create jobs. It has been one of the success stories of Alaska, of statehood. Uncle Sam put out about 35-million, as seed money for the corporations, to invest. Some of the corporations are required to distribute the wealth, over time, from good business investment strategies. For one successful corporation the preliminary dividend was tax-free only for that first distribution, sometimes allowing a shareholder a $50,000-dollar award, for being a bonafide native - a shareholder to the land ownership. Now the distribution policy is take it or loose it back into the corporation. So during the first go around there came a grace period, as many had no idea what was accomplished through this settlement agreement and the reason behind the corporations. And that kind of loot is like winning a lottery, as many Native Alaskans are poor on the income scale, but rich on the spiritual scale, as subsistence hunting and fishing requires a spiritual ego or else go hungry. Now when Alaska became a state, it meant things were going to change, for the good and bad. Like lawyers infiltrating the state. And there exist lawyers out there that would sell Ted pedometers, so he could win. So this is what keeps some of the homeless population going strong. With the grace period for claiming ownership of a whole bunch of money and more money to come, lawyers came rushing to the scene. They said it was unfair for the corporation to absorb the distribution of a shareholder if it went unclaimed. So a few lawyers decided it would be correct under the umbrella of the law to seek out the rightful owners of the distributions that went unclaimed, in efforts to get the money to those rightful owners. It had to do with demonstrating a best efforts approach and fairness. And with a very big homeless population - many natives that failed at city life - there existed a goldmine for the sleazebag attorneys who convinced the authorities that this was being done for the good of statehood. Now most of the street people are stuck on the booze bottle. So with that income some how or another presented to the rightful owner, it could foster a relationship. It was very easy for a sleazebag lawyer to seek and hide the money. And here is where it gets sad. The money distributed has no checks and balance. A lawyer can take the money in its entirety and invest it, say in real estate. All it required is some semblance of distribution. And since there is only a verbal contract between a person schooled in “Rip Off 101” with a guy hooked on cough medicine, there is required no interest. Income interest or interest in general! So as long as Joe Blow attorney shows up once a month with a clean white envelope with some cash, who cares. In the meantime the money is making the attorney rich. It is all legal! There is nothing anybody can do about it. Sam didn’t seem distressed over it, as he received enough to keep him going, as a street person. In fact, he smiled, or was it a sickening laugh. So this is what statehood has given us, sleazebag robbery. Can you imagine somebody promoting this? Maybe the tourists are right, as like that mountain, independence is a mirage! Bottom line, Alaska has failed America. After all these years, we have nothing to show except “missing” oil. To boast the largest oil fields in North America and at the same time rely on so much U.S. Treasury welfare, pork, earmarks and pork chops, we should have something worthwhile to show off. There is nothing – but failures. Again, when we can’t even keep a dairy producing milk and cheese, there is something “missing”. But the money tree made many wealthy. That wasn’t the intent. As a young state, we should have taken all the failures from other states and done it right. Had Alaska remained independent, there would be not confusing talk today of a natural gas pipeline, as it would have already been built and flowing gas. Maybe it is time to re-coup the loses, secession for independence is the best thing that could arrive to make Alaska what it deserves to be, “Free”! This state on its own is “Success”, as continued statehood is only a “mirage” of freedom and independence! Time for some real cheese.
CopyRight 2008 – Dixie Productions/MSK Media/Eagle Rock Press
Contact: Storylineonline@gci.net or www.Storylineonline.com or www.chinookjournal.blogspot.com
CopyRight 2008 – Dixie Productions/MSK Media/Eagle Rock Press
Contact: Storylineonline@gci.net or www.Storylineonline.com or www.chinookjournal.blogspot.com
Sunday, June 29, 2008
Thursday, June 26, 2008
EXXON! Thank MoanaLisa
When the smoke of disgust clears away, reality will sober up those left inebriated by fate. EXXON is free! It was a real slap in the face, not the “Axe” murder upon the original punitive award allowed by the Supreme Beings, but the fact that there existed any award at all. The Supremes would have been better off saying, “sorry”. But to take a punitive award that was in the billions and decrease it down to pennies on the dollar, it is nothing but a slap in the face for those waiting around for some 20-years by now – for justice. I was not at all thrilled by this punitive action, even though I believed it was justified in some instances. It should have not been a class-action suit, but law and order litigation by individuals - as most likely settlements would have been the preferred method of closure. But it may have been the lawyers that screwed it up. See, I was a property owner in Valdez when the tanker went aground – hard aground. I could have been a plaintiff in line for a piece of the pie. Following the wreck, I was called probably a dozen times wherein some guy tried to tell me that I was “harmed”! So early on I realized that this was a bunch of crazy attorneys trying to cash in on EXXON’s name and deep pockets. Hey, the oil didn’t reach my property some 15-miles inland! Remember, for every dollar they can claim as relief, it is money in their own pockets. So the whole damn scene turned me off. And I knew a guy who maintained a “part time” fishing guide business down on the Kenai. He was a fair weather guide at that. He didn’t need the extra income for his livelihood, as he worked for an oil company and made a very good salary. He guided as an extra-curricular activity on his time off from the slope job. But he was harmed, as the “wreck” was supposed to affect the tourist industry and some telephone soliciting lawyer convinced him that he was allowed by law to be compensated for such “damages”. So all he had to do was produce receipts from past years fishing excursions. He played into the equation of greed, so he is probably still waiting for that check. Hey, it’s in the mail. So it was stuff like this that probably screwed over those really harmed by the inconvenience of having a tanker stuck on Bligh Reef gushing overboard a few million gallons of crude oil. Anyway, what really convinced the Supremes to vacate most of the punitive award? According to Mr. Phenus J. Whoopee, it is about a penny on a dollar. And the fact that it was one of the last decisions to be made this season by the Supremes, before recess, it makes one wonder what was floating around that may have influenced the decision making process. Hey, everybody has an opinion. My opinion is supported by facts. I believe it was MoanaLisa, Alaska’s nepotism U.S. Senator. See, she tried floating a bill in the U.S. Senate that would have allowed the punitive money to be “Tax Free”. Had she been successful, it would have set precedent. It would have meant forever “Tax Free” punitive awards. It was not what the Supremes wanted, as no doubt it would have meant yet another filing, wherein they would have to re-visit the Hazzlewood follies once again. If the punitive damages were allowed to be “Tax Free”, it would have meant punishment against this country’s very own system of taxation. It would equate to a double-jeopardy, as we all know that the payout from EXXON will be absorbed by the consumers at the gas pump. And missing taxation, that same money would benefit a few and not the majority. It has happened time and time again here in Alaska. Wherein the rules are circumvented to allow a privileged population to not pay taxes. It may be justified, but it is sometimes confusing to what is really behind it all, like a secret agenda by the bill originators - our elected representatives. Think about it, had MoanaLisa been successful in getting a bill on record that allowed “Preferential Representation with No Taxation” and the award stayed, she could have been counting the votes. The other day there came a survey of how people in Alaska voted, highlighting how the fishing communities have voted time and time again for Republicans. So MoanaLisa used the opportunity to secure her future, by this tax-free “crap” preferential treatment wherein she would look like a hero. She blew it. I believe the deciding votes with the Supremes had already been made, but it was a close encounter situation and when Congress is trying to get in on the act from the sidelines, it can have repercussions. And MoanaLisa’s “I need your vote” bill seemed to coincide with the high courts delay in offering an opinion, as the Supremes kept putting it off. So if a plaintiff and you are pissed that your retirement has been garnished away, thank MoanaLisa for getting involved when she should have been doing more important things - like real estate. So EXXON, the giant energy corporation goes free! With that in mind, maybe it is time for Alaskan’s to boycott big corporations that are causing harm here in Alaska. I am not talking EXXON, but these big fish processing outfits out of Seattle. Hey, EXXON had enough and they need time to work on alternative energy stuff instead of litigation. Now this state spends from 6 to 8-million a year on anti-smoking campaigns. But one night in front of the boob tube watching the “Ugliest Catch” makes one want to take up the bad habit. This show glorifies the smoking habit, like if you want to be a rough tough fisherman, then you have to be a butthead. If MoanaLisa wants to do something worthwhile, get the FCC to ban this type of broadcast, just like happened to the Marlboro Man. That is outlawed, so why can a producer be so cruel? They could easily edit the tapes, but “No”, as smoking is cool on board a vessel out in the Bearing Sea were everybody is fighting. The only reason I watch the show is in belief that someday there will be a mutiny and a “greenhorn” son makes dad walk the plank. Actually, I don’t watch this show except when in need of a laugh, as it is ridiculous. Like a continuous re-run. Anyway, it is over with and EXXON’s stock is going back up, again! I wonder, does MoanaLisa have any EXXON stock? Hey, MoanaLisa is on live TV! She is complaining about the verdict, a photo-opportunity. She is slamming the Supremes and voicing that the verdict is unfair to Alaska, unfair to the fishermen that have waited all these years for justice. Hey, MoanaLisa, your land swindling deals were also unfair to Alaskans, take that in your pipe and smoke it! And please, don’t get involved anymore, as you seem to do your best when engaged in buying land! By the way, do you own any EXXON stock? Just in. Some guy is trying to get the state to lease the land once set aside for the Pt. McKenzie dairy industry. That land was cleared by homesteaders gone broke and with no dairy cows around, it is a fireweed haven. So what’s the interest? He wants to cultivate the “weed” as a cash crop, for “Alaskan” cigarettes!
CopyRight 2008 – Dixie Productions/MSK Media/Eagle Rock Press
Contact: Storylineonline@gci.net or www.Storylineonline.com or www.chinookjournal.blogspot.com
CopyRight 2008 – Dixie Productions/MSK Media/Eagle Rock Press
Contact: Storylineonline@gci.net or www.Storylineonline.com or www.chinookjournal.blogspot.com
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
True Alaskans
Remembering Rodney
The face looked a little familiar. But the name was a slam-dunk giveaway. You may have seen Rodney’s face, as he made it on the front page of the Anchorage Daily News. The accompanying story, about alcohol was sad, as I remember Rodney when he was just a youngster. Rodney’s dad was a guy named Mike, originally from the east coast. I knew Mike’s son, from the first marriage. Mike passed away not to long ago, but his memory lives on. When I helped his son move north, it was Mike that gave me a helping handout. He was a keeper friend with that first handshake. Maybe that was what Alaska was all about – helping out and friendships. That friendship allowed indoctrination into a culture that to this day I hold an utmost respect upon, the Native Alaskan culture. Sure there was the wilderness, the pipeline, the drugs and continued partying that followed the construction of that controversial project, but there were more important things in the “Last Frontier”. What Mike and his family introduced me too was the opportunity to experience something that most transplants to Alaska only hear or read about. I am talking this Alaskan Native culture - 10,000 years old - something that seems lost in the big cities of Anchorage and Fairbanks, or well kept under lock and key. For myself, it was like going abroad on a work-study program wherein you live with a host family, to learn their ways and means. When I first arrived to Fairbanks back in 76, it was Mike that gave me and 2-other “freeloaders” a handout. It was more then a handout. He gave us a place to stay. It meant a warm bed and he kept our bellies full. None of us had jobs at the time, and pipeline construction was gearing down, so the out of work lines at the union halls were miles long and growing each and everyday. Basically, jobs were few and far between. And winter was coming on fast and strong. Mike had a second family, married to a woman named “Babe”. She was a beautiful lady, Native Alaskan from somewhere down the Yukon River. Always smiling and not at all intimidated that her home was under attack by newcomers – white men at that, from the East Coast. Guys with weird accents! But Babe took us all in. Like hospitality was a normal preferential treatment to visitors. Maybe that is what made Alaska great in the early days. So with work becoming scarcer so, Mike would find things for us to do – chores around his place on Farmer’s Loop Road. It meant a bed and food. Besides cooking for her own family, which included 7 total, Babe also put out for the extras, with no fuss whatsoever. It would be sometimes near midnight when she would finally finish up the chores. There were three boys in the family. They looked more native then white. It must have been Babe’s genes that made it so. Michael was the oldest, followed by Rodney and then “Little” eddy as he was called. Then there was Robin and the jewel of the family, baby Crystal. I would get to know the boys pretty well over time. Michael was like his dad, stubborn and shrewd. Rodney, well I thought he would one day be a politician, maybe a senator, he had that thing about him. Quiet, sincere and always holding a neutral position, to defend his big brother when trouble made its way into the scene, at the same time respecting the elders - his parents. Eddy, was always smiling. Robin was Mike and Babe’s daughter and Crystal was just a fun loving baby girl that consumed everybody’s attention. Michael would loose his life along the Yukon River. Sad it was. Now Mike not only gave us a place to stay for free, he was instrumental at getting us jobs up at the University of Fairbanks. Mike was a well respected man about the campus, the supervisor of the grounds crew. So he made plans for us. First it meant part-time work, snow shoveling the sidewalks when ice and snow made it difficult for students to get around. Now as others frowned at the thought of snow, we cheered it on. It paid pretty damn good! The cold was something else, but Mike warned us that only a fool would get cold with this kind of job. It meant a lot of coffee time! But this was good, as when others were going without work, at least there was something to make us feel like this was our new home with potential. It had too work, as with winter it was not an option to drive back down the Alcan Highway. That is when it was still a somewhat wilderness road. When gas had to be carried for the long haul. When if snow or rain hit the road, Mudhole Smith’s dream came true. And Mike never wanted any money in return for helping us out. He told us to save, as there would be time for payback, he would say with a laugh, during brief intermissions when his cigar was not keeping him entertained. Mike had a sidekick named Dilly, what a character! Anyway, living with this family taught me about the Native Alaskan culture, so cherished to this day that I have authored several novels wherein I try to interweave that culture upon a “white man’s” life predicaments. There is the “Alaskan Company Man”, wherein a spiritual shaman named Kahootek makes his rounds around the oil derricks on the North Slope. There is another story about a white-man from NYC that gets involved in an Eskimo whale hunt. And the another about a young athlete that befriends an entire village of Athabaskan natives out at Eklutna Lake. These novels and others are available at www:storylineonline.com. It is yet a reader-free site! I have even involved myself in learning the native Athabaskan language, talk about tough! But so interesting. So while work allowed us to save for our own place, the time with Mike and his family would leave a lasting impression of a unique family. Now even though I felt like we were intruding, I also cherished that opportunity, again to learn this Native Alaskan culture. It seemed there was always house company, Babe’s friends and relatives coming in from the villages. Like a stop-over place. It was interesting, as this is where one could sit down and listen to stories about village life, to what it meant being an Athabaskan living along the Tananna or Yukon rivers. Where one could hear the trials and tribulations of a subsistence lifestyle, on the rivers just downstream from Fairbanks. This was not some fantasy make-believe remake over old ways of life, but reality life! And smoked fish and pilot bread crackers were always the table fare for the story telling times, along with tea. And the friends and relatives in from the villages came for varying reasons. From medical to bringing in native crafts for sale. One day, a guy pulled up with some Yukon River kings. Babe was right out there showing us how to prepare the fish, and laughing at what we thought we knew. Hey, I fished all my life, but how to handle a 50-pound fish, it was a challenge. And talk about good eating. This was the prized fish, especially when it was smoked. So some of the visitors to Mike and Babe’s place were in-laws coming to town to sell things - like dried fish or mukluks. Weekends were reserved for partying. Hey, Fairbanks was a party hardy town. And when Mike introduced you to an acquaintance, that new found associate would also become a friend. So it was like a friendship tree, getting bigger and bigger. And those that Mike associated with were true Alaskans, so these were the individuals you relied upon for answers in efforts to carve out a reason to stay in Alaska. In fact I was lucky to land a job up at the university power plant, where I would become dear friends with an older Athabaskan named Fred. This guy would teach me how to navigate the Minto Flats all the way to the Yukon River and back up the Tananna. Over time, I would loose touch with Mike’s family. But the memories persist. One memorable trip we all went on was my first trip to Anchorage, the “big city”. It was planned for the weekend of the Fur Rendezvous. We landed on 4th Avenue and that is where the vehicles would remain for the next three days. It was one party after another. And like before, we didn’t need to book a hotel, as there came plenty of places to stay, mostly friends of Babe, native Alaskans. With the same hospitality as we had been accustomed too in Fairbanks. So maybe things didn’t turn out so well for Rodney’s brother Michael or himself, but I can say this about that. I learned something very special from Rodney’s family, still cherished this day. Michael was part of that learning experience. Rodney was also part of that learning experience. And maybe Rodney remembers the time I went winter camping with the three boys out on Harding Lake. We survived! Now I thought I knew something about survival, east coast type survival. It was a little different when the temperatures were hovering close to minus 20, during the daytime sun time! But the boys knew what to do, from getting a fire burning to a good shelter. Even though a few boots went missing, what’s that smell? True Athabaskan boys in my book. True Alaskans they are. First impressions are so valuable in my book. And when we were introduced to Mike and his family, it instilled such a lasting impression that I have made a career here in Alaska, for the past 30-years thanks to true Alaskan’s, some very true!
CopyRight 2008 – Dixie Productions/MSK Media/Eagle Rock Press
Contact: Storylineonline@gci.net or www.Storylineonline.com or www.chinookjournal.blogspot.com
The face looked a little familiar. But the name was a slam-dunk giveaway. You may have seen Rodney’s face, as he made it on the front page of the Anchorage Daily News. The accompanying story, about alcohol was sad, as I remember Rodney when he was just a youngster. Rodney’s dad was a guy named Mike, originally from the east coast. I knew Mike’s son, from the first marriage. Mike passed away not to long ago, but his memory lives on. When I helped his son move north, it was Mike that gave me a helping handout. He was a keeper friend with that first handshake. Maybe that was what Alaska was all about – helping out and friendships. That friendship allowed indoctrination into a culture that to this day I hold an utmost respect upon, the Native Alaskan culture. Sure there was the wilderness, the pipeline, the drugs and continued partying that followed the construction of that controversial project, but there were more important things in the “Last Frontier”. What Mike and his family introduced me too was the opportunity to experience something that most transplants to Alaska only hear or read about. I am talking this Alaskan Native culture - 10,000 years old - something that seems lost in the big cities of Anchorage and Fairbanks, or well kept under lock and key. For myself, it was like going abroad on a work-study program wherein you live with a host family, to learn their ways and means. When I first arrived to Fairbanks back in 76, it was Mike that gave me and 2-other “freeloaders” a handout. It was more then a handout. He gave us a place to stay. It meant a warm bed and he kept our bellies full. None of us had jobs at the time, and pipeline construction was gearing down, so the out of work lines at the union halls were miles long and growing each and everyday. Basically, jobs were few and far between. And winter was coming on fast and strong. Mike had a second family, married to a woman named “Babe”. She was a beautiful lady, Native Alaskan from somewhere down the Yukon River. Always smiling and not at all intimidated that her home was under attack by newcomers – white men at that, from the East Coast. Guys with weird accents! But Babe took us all in. Like hospitality was a normal preferential treatment to visitors. Maybe that is what made Alaska great in the early days. So with work becoming scarcer so, Mike would find things for us to do – chores around his place on Farmer’s Loop Road. It meant a bed and food. Besides cooking for her own family, which included 7 total, Babe also put out for the extras, with no fuss whatsoever. It would be sometimes near midnight when she would finally finish up the chores. There were three boys in the family. They looked more native then white. It must have been Babe’s genes that made it so. Michael was the oldest, followed by Rodney and then “Little” eddy as he was called. Then there was Robin and the jewel of the family, baby Crystal. I would get to know the boys pretty well over time. Michael was like his dad, stubborn and shrewd. Rodney, well I thought he would one day be a politician, maybe a senator, he had that thing about him. Quiet, sincere and always holding a neutral position, to defend his big brother when trouble made its way into the scene, at the same time respecting the elders - his parents. Eddy, was always smiling. Robin was Mike and Babe’s daughter and Crystal was just a fun loving baby girl that consumed everybody’s attention. Michael would loose his life along the Yukon River. Sad it was. Now Mike not only gave us a place to stay for free, he was instrumental at getting us jobs up at the University of Fairbanks. Mike was a well respected man about the campus, the supervisor of the grounds crew. So he made plans for us. First it meant part-time work, snow shoveling the sidewalks when ice and snow made it difficult for students to get around. Now as others frowned at the thought of snow, we cheered it on. It paid pretty damn good! The cold was something else, but Mike warned us that only a fool would get cold with this kind of job. It meant a lot of coffee time! But this was good, as when others were going without work, at least there was something to make us feel like this was our new home with potential. It had too work, as with winter it was not an option to drive back down the Alcan Highway. That is when it was still a somewhat wilderness road. When gas had to be carried for the long haul. When if snow or rain hit the road, Mudhole Smith’s dream came true. And Mike never wanted any money in return for helping us out. He told us to save, as there would be time for payback, he would say with a laugh, during brief intermissions when his cigar was not keeping him entertained. Mike had a sidekick named Dilly, what a character! Anyway, living with this family taught me about the Native Alaskan culture, so cherished to this day that I have authored several novels wherein I try to interweave that culture upon a “white man’s” life predicaments. There is the “Alaskan Company Man”, wherein a spiritual shaman named Kahootek makes his rounds around the oil derricks on the North Slope. There is another story about a white-man from NYC that gets involved in an Eskimo whale hunt. And the another about a young athlete that befriends an entire village of Athabaskan natives out at Eklutna Lake. These novels and others are available at www:storylineonline.com. It is yet a reader-free site! I have even involved myself in learning the native Athabaskan language, talk about tough! But so interesting. So while work allowed us to save for our own place, the time with Mike and his family would leave a lasting impression of a unique family. Now even though I felt like we were intruding, I also cherished that opportunity, again to learn this Native Alaskan culture. It seemed there was always house company, Babe’s friends and relatives coming in from the villages. Like a stop-over place. It was interesting, as this is where one could sit down and listen to stories about village life, to what it meant being an Athabaskan living along the Tananna or Yukon rivers. Where one could hear the trials and tribulations of a subsistence lifestyle, on the rivers just downstream from Fairbanks. This was not some fantasy make-believe remake over old ways of life, but reality life! And smoked fish and pilot bread crackers were always the table fare for the story telling times, along with tea. And the friends and relatives in from the villages came for varying reasons. From medical to bringing in native crafts for sale. One day, a guy pulled up with some Yukon River kings. Babe was right out there showing us how to prepare the fish, and laughing at what we thought we knew. Hey, I fished all my life, but how to handle a 50-pound fish, it was a challenge. And talk about good eating. This was the prized fish, especially when it was smoked. So some of the visitors to Mike and Babe’s place were in-laws coming to town to sell things - like dried fish or mukluks. Weekends were reserved for partying. Hey, Fairbanks was a party hardy town. And when Mike introduced you to an acquaintance, that new found associate would also become a friend. So it was like a friendship tree, getting bigger and bigger. And those that Mike associated with were true Alaskans, so these were the individuals you relied upon for answers in efforts to carve out a reason to stay in Alaska. In fact I was lucky to land a job up at the university power plant, where I would become dear friends with an older Athabaskan named Fred. This guy would teach me how to navigate the Minto Flats all the way to the Yukon River and back up the Tananna. Over time, I would loose touch with Mike’s family. But the memories persist. One memorable trip we all went on was my first trip to Anchorage, the “big city”. It was planned for the weekend of the Fur Rendezvous. We landed on 4th Avenue and that is where the vehicles would remain for the next three days. It was one party after another. And like before, we didn’t need to book a hotel, as there came plenty of places to stay, mostly friends of Babe, native Alaskans. With the same hospitality as we had been accustomed too in Fairbanks. So maybe things didn’t turn out so well for Rodney’s brother Michael or himself, but I can say this about that. I learned something very special from Rodney’s family, still cherished this day. Michael was part of that learning experience. Rodney was also part of that learning experience. And maybe Rodney remembers the time I went winter camping with the three boys out on Harding Lake. We survived! Now I thought I knew something about survival, east coast type survival. It was a little different when the temperatures were hovering close to minus 20, during the daytime sun time! But the boys knew what to do, from getting a fire burning to a good shelter. Even though a few boots went missing, what’s that smell? True Athabaskan boys in my book. True Alaskans they are. First impressions are so valuable in my book. And when we were introduced to Mike and his family, it instilled such a lasting impression that I have made a career here in Alaska, for the past 30-years thanks to true Alaskan’s, some very true!
CopyRight 2008 – Dixie Productions/MSK Media/Eagle Rock Press
Contact: Storylineonline@gci.net or www.Storylineonline.com or www.chinookjournal.blogspot.com
Sunday, June 22, 2008
"War Crimes" Accomplice List
George Bush is guilty and wanted on “War Crimes”. The money sidelined to capture Osama Bin Laden - $25-million - should be re-directed to bring Bush to trial. His accomplices are signatory members of a now defunct neo-conservative organization called PNAC – Project for the New American Century. Had it not been for this powerful organization’s influence, Iraq would not have been invaded based on lies and never found Weapons of Mass Destruction. The below individuals are accomplices, for aiding and abetting such crimes, an should be considered guilty and dangerous upon this country’s Constitution:
Signatories Elliot Abrams, Gary Bauer, William J. Bennett, John Ellis “Jeb” Bush, Richard B. Cheney, Eliot A. Cohen, Midge Decter, Paula Dobriansky, Steve Forbes, Aaron Friedberg, Francis Fukuyama, Frank Gaffney, Fred C. Ikle, Donald Kagan, Zalmay Khalilzad, L. Lewis “Scooter” Libby, Norman Podhoretz, J. Danforth Quayle, Peter W. Rodman, Stephen P. Rosen, Henry S. Rowen, Donald Rumsfeld, Vin Weber, George Weigel, Paul Wolfowitz. Cofounders William Kristol and Robert Kagan. Directors Bruce P. Jackson, Mark Gerson and Randy Scheunemann. Contributing friends Richard Perle, John R. Bolten, Kenneth Adelman, Richard Armitage, Ellen Bork, Linda Chavez, Jeane Kirkpatrick and R. James Woolsey and others to be named at a later date.
Even though Bush is now considered guilty of “War Crimes” by this country’s top military brass, he was not alone when he decided to take this country on a world wind tour to promote democracy. It failed. He failed U.S.! Bush Watch-Tower is an organization that will have correspondents seated within all states of the Union to push for sanctions and fines in efforts to not allow Bush to get away with the crimes of war upon humanity. George Bush should be held responsible and also pay for the destruction in Iraq. The PNAC signatories should also bare some of that responsibility and associated costs. It should not be at the expense of the American taxpayers. That is not what we pay taxes for! We must stick up for our rights in this serious matter. Donations gladly accepted in efforts to bring those responsible to justice for all!
For further information about this grass-roots organization designed to bring George Bush and others before a “War Crimes” Tribunal and how you may help, contact: storylineonline@gci.net
Remember, George Bush is a “War Crimes” Criminal and we are the victims!
CopyRight 2008 – Dixie Productions/MSK Media/Eagle Rock Press
Contact: Storylineonline@gci.net or www.Storylineonline.com or www.chinookjournal.blogspot.com
Signatories Elliot Abrams, Gary Bauer, William J. Bennett, John Ellis “Jeb” Bush, Richard B. Cheney, Eliot A. Cohen, Midge Decter, Paula Dobriansky, Steve Forbes, Aaron Friedberg, Francis Fukuyama, Frank Gaffney, Fred C. Ikle, Donald Kagan, Zalmay Khalilzad, L. Lewis “Scooter” Libby, Norman Podhoretz, J. Danforth Quayle, Peter W. Rodman, Stephen P. Rosen, Henry S. Rowen, Donald Rumsfeld, Vin Weber, George Weigel, Paul Wolfowitz. Cofounders William Kristol and Robert Kagan. Directors Bruce P. Jackson, Mark Gerson and Randy Scheunemann. Contributing friends Richard Perle, John R. Bolten, Kenneth Adelman, Richard Armitage, Ellen Bork, Linda Chavez, Jeane Kirkpatrick and R. James Woolsey and others to be named at a later date.
Even though Bush is now considered guilty of “War Crimes” by this country’s top military brass, he was not alone when he decided to take this country on a world wind tour to promote democracy. It failed. He failed U.S.! Bush Watch-Tower is an organization that will have correspondents seated within all states of the Union to push for sanctions and fines in efforts to not allow Bush to get away with the crimes of war upon humanity. George Bush should be held responsible and also pay for the destruction in Iraq. The PNAC signatories should also bare some of that responsibility and associated costs. It should not be at the expense of the American taxpayers. That is not what we pay taxes for! We must stick up for our rights in this serious matter. Donations gladly accepted in efforts to bring those responsible to justice for all!
For further information about this grass-roots organization designed to bring George Bush and others before a “War Crimes” Tribunal and how you may help, contact: storylineonline@gci.net
Remember, George Bush is a “War Crimes” Criminal and we are the victims!
CopyRight 2008 – Dixie Productions/MSK Media/Eagle Rock Press
Contact: Storylineonline@gci.net or www.Storylineonline.com or www.chinookjournal.blogspot.com
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