tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11120020429190231052024-03-12T16:55:00.599-07:00ericAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09862710049005047992noreply@blogger.comBlogger81125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1112002042919023105.post-63217065878046567762013-11-16T17:54:00.001-08:002013-11-16T18:18:30.163-08:00Mountains, glaciers, airplanes, and brushes with death<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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-->This past summer Angie and I engaged in all of the things listed above (we
also got engaged).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><br />
<br />
Whenever I tell people that I teach in Alaska usually one of the first things out
of their mouths is a variation of “Oh I’ve heard Alaska is so beautiful!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My response has been, “I’ve heard good
things.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To be fair, western Alaska <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">is</i> nice to look at.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The gradual transition to fall with the
various tundra plants changing from deep green to oranges and reds and finally
to a very fall-like brown does attract my attention when the sun is shining and
the winds are calm.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But the gentle
subtlety of the tundra is not what the people I’ve talked to have in mind.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They picture eye-popping mountain vistas.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They see calving glaciers splashing to the
sea.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Above it all the bald eagle
surveying the scene as whale and grizzly command the water and land.<br />
<br />
So we decided that we should do the Alaskan adventure that everyone assumed
we did during the nine months a year we spent teaching.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-RpCLLQy95Hc/UoBx2QS7IWI/AAAAAAAACCs/zRx8IOPAb44/s1600/IMG_4103.JPG" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-RpCLLQy95Hc/UoBx2QS7IWI/AAAAAAAACCs/zRx8IOPAb44/s320/IMG_4103.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Glacier National Park - pretty place...until you go to Alaska. I jokes.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Our journey began in St. Paul aboard the Amtrak. We detrained (fancy train vocab!) in West Glacier, Montana for a quick
jaunt through Glacier National Park. A week there was a delight. A
note about Glacier - the name refers to the origin of the landforms, not to a
current geologic feature. Nonetheless, glaciers or no, the park is
beautiful. We spent a few days in the backcountry where Angie was
attacked by one of Glacier's most aggressive dangers - allergies. Hopped
up on Allegra, we spent the next couple of days doing some day hikes. No bears, but we did see some goats and sheep. Not quite as interesting, but much less unsettling to come across. <br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-l_zIZVaikbE/UoBwzmcYgkI/AAAAAAAACCc/5-_jDoh3FEI/s1600/IMG_4083.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-l_zIZVaikbE/UoBwzmcYgkI/AAAAAAAACCc/5-_jDoh3FEI/s400/IMG_4083.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lake McDonald - Glacier National Park</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-a-5DJ0xOPFM/UoBxl-ptoJI/AAAAAAAACCk/4p25GWCh3Gg/s1600/IMG_4102.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-a-5DJ0xOPFM/UoBxl-ptoJI/AAAAAAAACCk/4p25GWCh3Gg/s400/IMG_4102.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mountain goats. Glacier National Park.</td></tr>
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From Glacier we hopped back on the Amtrak to Portland. Two days there
putzing around then we flew up to Anchorage. We decided to splurge on a
rental car. In retrospect this was a necessity. Our trip would have
been very different without the freedom a car gives you.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-gyMcxE5wEYE/UoByOmYwgUI/AAAAAAAACC0/44cbCMHEayI/s1600/IMG_4135.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-gyMcxE5wEYE/UoByOmYwgUI/AAAAAAAACC0/44cbCMHEayI/s400/IMG_4135.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And without a car we wouldn't have had the opportunity to drive on leopard roads!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7VOicwiqpHM/UogM6rvWRQI/AAAAAAAACGo/L0Pzc4XuIHc/s1600/IMG_5028.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7VOicwiqpHM/UogM6rvWRQI/AAAAAAAACGo/L0Pzc4XuIHc/s400/IMG_5028.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And in case you are lost in the woods. Okay, it was on the side of the road.</td></tr>
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I can't begin to explain how large Alaska is. It's cliche, I
know. Who cares. It's huge. We drove from Anchorage up to
Denali National Park. Two days we spent in these little cabins.
Quite nice. We drove up to the Park those days, got our bearings, did some
day hikes, and selected our campgrounds for the next few nights. We
settled on three nights at Igloo Creek. Camping turned out to be a
wonderfully economical way to enjoy the park. One Camper Bus ticket
allowed us unlimited rides on the buses for the entire time we were
camping. Had we have chosen not to camp we would have been stuck paying
thirty-some odd dollars a day to ride the bus.<br />
<br />
Denali National Park is huge. Most people (including us) only get to
see a very small part of it. There is only one road in the park, and most
of that road is closed to the public. That's where the buses from above
come into play. Forcing visitors to use the buses cuts down significantly on traffic in the
park. It's a little annoying if you want to move at your own pace, but
it's pretty awesome if you want to see animals. From the bus we saw
caribou, sheep, fox, bear (finally), even a lone wolf one evening running off in the
distance. It's amazing how safe you feel observing the wildness of Alaska from within a metal walled bus. This changes dramatically when you see a bear and you are not in the bus anymore (this is a story for later). Hiking with the buses is also very convenient. When you want to get off and start a hike you simply signal the
driver. Without any officially maintained trails, this is theoretically
possible to do anywhere. In reality, there are more or less unofficial
trails that tend to earn reputations from other hikers or recommendations from
the bus drivers. We took advantage of the wisdom of others and took a few of these hikes.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-gf_LE5Q9OX4/UoB0LllqfkI/AAAAAAAACDg/pCJX9gLZu2Y/s1600/IMG_4265.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-gf_LE5Q9OX4/UoB0LllqfkI/AAAAAAAACDg/pCJX9gLZu2Y/s400/IMG_4265.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hiking - Alaska style. </td></tr>
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<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3546C-QLSjU/UoB1yEEwWoI/AAAAAAAACEA/pMVnQ8-xWeI/s1600/IMG_4357.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3546C-QLSjU/UoB1yEEwWoI/AAAAAAAACEA/pMVnQ8-xWeI/s400/IMG_4357.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Ah! What a lovely couple!" - Kurt Jones circa 2011</td></tr>
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<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Xy7W0y2HSgU/UogjEcsKQBI/AAAAAAAACLw/dHFJ4ZnYc8w/s1600/IMG_4379.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Xy7W0y2HSgU/UogjEcsKQBI/AAAAAAAACLw/dHFJ4ZnYc8w/s400/IMG_4379.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Just some mountains. No big deal.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
After Denali we headed over to the bizarre hippy/middle-aged tourist
haven known as Talkeetna.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was a weird
mix of awesome.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The thing about Alaska
is that it attracts well-to-do middle-aged couples (we met a 50-something newly
married couple on their honeymoon) seeking the Alaskan experience (gold
panning, salmon fishing, big game hunting) and at the same time it attracts
those of the younger generation with interests in the fields of hippie-dom,
alcohol fishing, and hitchhiking.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Imagine Duluth+San Francisco in 1969.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>These two groups of people, along with the third group – the locals
(think the “keep it local and organic” crowd + the NRA’s most vocal advocates)
all intersect in Talkeetna.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The sum of
all of this is a large number of locally-owned shops, restaurants, and tour
companies staffed by scruffy looking gen-y’ers tending to every whim of the
baby-boomers’ desires.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We, like everyone
else we met or had talked to, loved Talkeetna.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-530BzQb8Pmg/UogGJYDHDwI/AAAAAAAACEs/QPb-tBeGpzQ/s1600/IMG_4424.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-530BzQb8Pmg/UogGJYDHDwI/AAAAAAAACEs/QPb-tBeGpzQ/s400/IMG_4424.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Flight-seeing. So baller.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
From Talkeetna, we drove to Valdez.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A
small community ringed by massive mountains and the Pacific. Valdez is gorgeous. Valdez is a pretty
eerie place.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is famous for its
catastrophes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In 1964 the town was
demolished by the infamous Good Friday Earthquake.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The quake was the second largest recorded earthquake on
record (magnitude 9.2), and it caused a landslide-induced tsunami that swept away much
of the old town’s buildings.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Twenty-five
years later, again on Good Friday, the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Exxon
Valdez </i>ran aground spilling oil just outside of the town polluting the
shoreline for miles and killing sea birds, mammals, and fish.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Despite these two events, Valdez is home to
the terminus of the Trans-Alaska oil pipeline.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>We spent a few days bumming around Valdez before heading to Anchorage
and from their flying back to Tununak to start year five.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="height: 283px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center; width: 353px;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-AG5tMxdwp6Q/UogKvDD9wbI/AAAAAAAACGE/4Qgz6vhbI9s/s1600/IMG_5069.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-AG5tMxdwp6Q/UogKvDD9wbI/AAAAAAAACGE/4Qgz6vhbI9s/s320/IMG_5069.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Popular dinner spot with the Valdez locals. We found the food to be overrated and underdone.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-K2u4Z4PKUFw/UogLBwK-ceI/AAAAAAAACGM/T1gV8XFnRWg/s1600/IMG_5059.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-K2u4Z4PKUFw/UogLBwK-ceI/AAAAAAAACGM/T1gV8XFnRWg/s320/IMG_5059.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The end of the line. Way up there on that hill.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ZBgs0pBRyIA/UogLqhs08SI/AAAAAAAACGc/cySPvToYV6w/s1600/IMG_5054.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ZBgs0pBRyIA/UogLqhs08SI/AAAAAAAACGc/cySPvToYV6w/s320/IMG_5054.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> And you are definitely not allowed to visit. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-HIIOBeJyeD8/UogjIY-jiDI/AAAAAAAACL4/GgOZKyofaSs/s1600/IMG_4395.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-HIIOBeJyeD8/UogjIY-jiDI/AAAAAAAACL4/GgOZKyofaSs/s640/IMG_4395.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Denali from Talkeetna.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09862710049005047992noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1112002042919023105.post-58684736386491427782013-11-10T22:18:00.000-08:002013-11-16T17:57:27.763-08:00Teaching is So Easy. Sometimes.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<b>Lego Robotics</b> <br />
I have been involved in Lego Robotics for the past five years now. I have to admit - I'm kind of obsessed.<br />
<br />
Here's a quick primer:<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-kauQwlz2ZEc/UoBvRCOADaI/AAAAAAAACB0/LYNgyEwc-nE/s1600/IMG_0871.JPG" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-kauQwlz2ZEc/UoBvRCOADaI/AAAAAAAACB0/LYNgyEwc-nE/s320/IMG_0871.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Running the robot during the competition</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-kauQwlz2ZEc/UoBvRCOADaI/AAAAAAAACB0/LYNgyEwc-nE/s1600/IMG_0871.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><br />
<ul style="text-align: left;">
</ul>
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>Our fifth through eighth graders have the opportunity to join an extra-curricular club/team known as robotics.</li>
<li>Each season, we, along with a couple dozen other teams across the district participate in the annual <a href="http://www.firstlegoleague.org/" target="_blank">First Lego League</a> (FLL for short) competition.</li>
<li>For the competition, each team designs, builds, and programs a robot. The robot has a series of missions that it must accomplish to earn points.</li>
<li>In addition to the robotics side, the teams also create a project that offers a solution to a problem based on a theme. The theme this year: Nature's Fury.</li>
</ul>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-uNIUMiLuP_Y/UoBvHPZRQYI/AAAAAAAACBs/2x2KGmpbVYY/s1600/IMG_0859.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-uNIUMiLuP_Y/UoBvHPZRQYI/AAAAAAAACBs/2x2KGmpbVYY/s320/IMG_0859.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Modifying programs - trying to apply a cast</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-UfSU6DvXxKM/UoBu-OLK9PI/AAAAAAAACBk/PiIpuCv-Bh8/s1600/IMG_0672.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-UfSU6DvXxKM/UoBu-OLK9PI/AAAAAAAACBk/PiIpuCv-Bh8/s320/IMG_0672.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Team Building - Building a tower to touch the ceiling</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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So that's that. Research, write, perform, build, program, compete. What I like about it so much is that it's painless to coach. Legos are just too awesome. And kids (as well as adults) just get sucked in trying to get the robot to do what it's supposed to do. Problem solving, teamwork, persistence, math, science and whatever else (meteorology and geology this year).<br />
<br />
<b>SeaPerch</b><br />
The second thing is closely related. Last summer I had the opportunity to be an instructor for a summer program for middle school students. The program, SeaPerch, was a one week camp where students traveled in from the villages to build a remote operated submersible. Over the course of a week each student built a <a href="http://www.seaperch.org/" target="_blank">SeaPerch</a> from simple materials (PVC, netting, zipties, model airplane props, and a trio of motors) that they got to take home at the end of the week. Another fascinating, easy to teach group. All the learning kids love. The easiest thing in the world to teach.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-i51vUDQPO-A/UoBsxO4TW8I/AAAAAAAACAc/HfkTrXLfA7Y/s1600/IMG_3697.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-i51vUDQPO-A/UoBsxO4TW8I/AAAAAAAACAc/HfkTrXLfA7Y/s320/IMG_3697.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">After assembly, the chassis get spray painted</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-YQQxvucbzI0/UoBtWSt2V4I/AAAAAAAACAs/ABkEnBrXRqY/s1600/IMG_3729.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-YQQxvucbzI0/UoBtWSt2V4I/AAAAAAAACAs/ABkEnBrXRqY/s320/IMG_3729.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The concept of neutral buoyancy was never easier to teach</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-_KujlcpQ-vU/UoBt-K5ffoI/AAAAAAAACA8/pu0aavW77SI/s1600/IMG_3908.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-_KujlcpQ-vU/UoBt-K5ffoI/AAAAAAAACA8/pu0aavW77SI/s320/IMG_3908.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Three days of soldering. Three long days.</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_bXOQ8Z-g2E/UoBuG3Lzq9I/AAAAAAAACBE/7xVFAedp4ak/s1600/IMG_3934.JPG" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_bXOQ8Z-g2E/UoBuG3Lzq9I/AAAAAAAACBE/7xVFAedp4ak/s640/IMG_3934.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Testing out the SeaPerches at the harbor.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iZXYSAOiA1k/UoBtFBpe_sI/AAAAAAAACAk/nO3ciXHg5RM/s1600/IMG_3704.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09862710049005047992noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1112002042919023105.post-23898969252090421942013-05-23T20:19:00.000-07:002013-05-23T20:20:03.965-07:00Booyeah Summer Break<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
School year (number four!) ended last Thursday. It snowed. Friday was a work day - the official last day for me - and it snowed some more. Saturday, the official first day of summer and we decided to go goose hunting. It is too strange to explain why it wasn't quite a success.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-WD2uEORrzCU/UZgjxaNYJKI/AAAAAAAAB7o/Kf64ypzOMjM/s1600/IMG_3668.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-WD2uEORrzCU/UZgjxaNYJKI/AAAAAAAAB7o/Kf64ypzOMjM/s400/IMG_3668.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ahhh...summer break. Finally.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-vIcdA6TccQE/UZgkbHS-kRI/AAAAAAAAB74/PiXN7OOb974/s1600/IMG_3670.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-vIcdA6TccQE/UZgkbHS-kRI/AAAAAAAAB74/PiXN7OOb974/s400/IMG_3670.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The south hill.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-f4EZp9hkENQ/UZghklRkb1I/AAAAAAAAB7I/GmB8PB3uo0w/s1600/IMG_3663.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-f4EZp9hkENQ/UZghklRkb1I/AAAAAAAAB7I/GmB8PB3uo0w/s400/IMG_3663.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ready for the zombie apocalypse</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
It is officially spring (according to the calendar) so the geese should be returning. They've been slowly making their way back, but the larger migration has yet to start. I blame it on the lack of open water. All of the ponds around Tununak are still covered in ice. Snow blankets most of the tundra. The river ice is still in place. The sea ice is still anchored to the shore. It's weird. First day of summer, and it's below freezing.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-0p8tPwhpa50/UZgix54Z2zI/AAAAAAAAB7Y/48MKK4jW8Vg/s1600/IMG_3666.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-0p8tPwhpa50/UZgix54Z2zI/AAAAAAAAB7Y/48MKK4jW8Vg/s320/IMG_3666.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kurt guarding</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
All of these disadvantages didn't stop Kurt from shooting the solo goose flying overhead. We'd posted up on the hill waiting for geese to fly over us. Boring, cold, but not so bad when you lay back on the frozen tundra. The lonely bird flew over us once, too high for a shot, when Victor began calling. The sad, lonely bird, thinking his homies were calling him in banked wide and began his descent. He came back around when - Bang!<br />
<br /><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-llQMknRxM2c/UZgmIU_meqI/AAAAAAAAB8c/KsRnTSMhFjU/s1600/IMG_3675.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-llQMknRxM2c/UZgmIU_meqI/AAAAAAAAB8c/KsRnTSMhFjU/s400/IMG_3675.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Stalking ptarmigan</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
We sat, staring up, trying to determine if he hit it. Then trying to determine if it was coming down. Then we were up running. The dead bird landed within three feet of where we were sitting, I mean guarding. Most terrifying thing in the world to see a bird fall out of the sky.<br />
<br />
We ended the day with two ptarmigan, a goose, and a brush with falling death. Not the worst start to summer break. <br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-5DJLggJqn1I/UZgmjroumLI/AAAAAAAAB8k/RwHbxlSLzCI/s1600/IMG_3676.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-5DJLggJqn1I/UZgmjroumLI/AAAAAAAAB8k/RwHbxlSLzCI/s400/IMG_3676.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Victor, Kurt, Danny, two ptarmigan, and one goose.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09862710049005047992noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1112002042919023105.post-51652072900777995282013-05-13T22:44:00.000-07:002013-05-13T22:44:01.194-07:00I now like ice fishing.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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The
first time I went ice fishing I fell in a hole. As a little kid with a
little foot I was able to fall in the little hole. It was cold and
miserable, and on top of all that I don't remember catching anything resembling
a fish. Maybe I caught a cold. Who knows? That was about
twenty-five years ago. I can now say that my opinion on the activity has
changed.<br />
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<br /></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Xu7SiIeXhEM/UYc7Hsu5fSI/AAAAAAAAB4k/xhMJDcuvaF0/s1600/Screen+shot+2013-04-15+at+10.22.15+AM.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Xu7SiIeXhEM/UYc7Hsu5fSI/AAAAAAAAB4k/xhMJDcuvaF0/s320/Screen+shot+2013-04-15+at+10.22.15+AM.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A little more than nine miles round trip.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
My
change of heart happened three weeks ago. Up for something out the
ordinary, we (Angie, Kurt, Neal, and myself) decided to go ice fishing.
The fabled location was a ways away. Kurt and Neal had made an attempt to
find the spot an earlier weekend with no luck. In preparation for this
attempt I asked the other high school teacher how to get there. She
sketched out a quick map on my whiteboard. "Okay, got it," I
said. Armed with this knowledge we now felt ready to go. We
discussed our plan, and Kurt had heard it was shorter to go over the hill, we
set out.</div>
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<br />
<br /></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HjFQxUH7v-g/UYcvp9HemtI/AAAAAAAAByU/6t_MOvrUUcY/s1600/IMG_3587.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HjFQxUH7v-g/UYcvp9HemtI/AAAAAAAAByU/6t_MOvrUUcY/s320/IMG_3587.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kurt shoulda worn cleats. Oh well. Next time.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
We
left the BIA in the early afternoon. The sun was out, blasting the
way. As our journey up the hill started I was instantly pleased with my
last minute decision to wear my ice cleats. Angie had hers on as
well. Neal and Kurt opted to venture forth without. What had
appeared as nice soft snow turned out to be nice soft snow, except under that
layer was a much trickier layer of ice. The nice soft snow did nothing
but make the ice even more slippery. Combined with the steep incline of
the hill and the sled carrying our fishing gear, the hike up the hill took a
long time. About half way up, after both Neal and Kurt had stumbled and
fallen a number of times apiece, the clouds rolled in. The wisdom of our
route was in question.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But we were
invested in the adventure by this time. There would be no turning around.</div>
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<br /></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-GPdYaoJx9xI/UYcvfRxJI8I/AAAAAAAAByE/ZP2KGTSB-vg/s1600/IMG_3585.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-GPdYaoJx9xI/UYcvfRxJI8I/AAAAAAAAByE/ZP2KGTSB-vg/s320/IMG_3585.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Slightly reminiscent of an arctic exploratory team</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="margin-bottom: .1pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: .1pt;">
As
we neared the summit, Angie and I were out in front. We climbed the last
bit and as we came even with the top of the hill we came face to face with a
herd of musk ox. Probably fifty adults and a number of juveniles stood no
more than one hundred feet from us. The wind had been coming from the
north - they had not been able to smell us approach. We dropped to the
ground, whispering to Neal and Kurt to hurry up. Before they made it up
to us the herd figured us out and began moving away to stage their defensive
positions. Musk ox, being gigantic animals, are not the bravest of
creatures. I have heard that they will charge, but most of the time all
I've seen them do is line up, shoulder to shoulder in a display of power.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They are mighty intimidating, but after
sizing us up for a while and watching us slowly get closer they must have
recognized our true power.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am
still trying to figure out what our true power was, but they took off to the
North.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We continued to follow
their retreat as it was in the direction of our fishing spot.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-gKEgxilynQE/UYcwBkbdv8I/AAAAAAAABzE/u3GuQzr4Ehc/s1600/IMG_3594.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-gKEgxilynQE/UYcwBkbdv8I/AAAAAAAABzE/u3GuQzr4Ehc/s320/IMG_3594.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Muskox.</td></tr>
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</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-TEhmSgViOTg/UYcg_T2-j5I/AAAAAAAABp8/2I8O6Af9KPs/s1600/IMG_0839.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-TEhmSgViOTg/UYcg_T2-j5I/AAAAAAAABp8/2I8O6Af9KPs/s400/IMG_0839.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Muskox. Chillin'.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-WdfxDoTK71I/UYchfr2cF8I/AAAAAAAABqc/SbbHU9H4UK8/s1600/IMG_0857.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-WdfxDoTK71I/UYchfr2cF8I/AAAAAAAABqc/SbbHU9H4UK8/s400/IMG_0857.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rare blue sky moments are fantastic.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
The
hill we were crossing, actually the core of an ancient volcano, rises maybe one
thousand feet above the village. The top is a large flat area offering
views in all directions. From there we could just barely make out where
we were going. It was a long ways away without a very clear line
down. We continued along the ridge looking for the easiest way
down. After deciding that using the sled to bomb the hill was probably
not the best idea we opted for sliding down on our feet and butts. Slower
than sledding (we ghost rode that whip), it was much more fun that climbing the
hill. Our descent took us to about one hundred feet above the sea – to the
edge of a rocky cliff that falls to meet the shore. We would have to walk
along the cliff until we found a drainage chute to descend. A little
further on we came across a baby musk ox, completely alone. Angie and I
left Neal and Kurt at this point and we descended down a chute to the ocean
below. Kurt and Neal got much closer to the baby than I thought would
have been possible.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Kind of a
bummer to miss that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Oh well.</div>
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</div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/--kK-o7H0z30/UYcnhARtAlI/AAAAAAAABtc/50JHy2fJXMk/s1600/IMG_0900.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/--kK-o7H0z30/UYcnhARtAlI/AAAAAAAABtc/50JHy2fJXMk/s320/IMG_0900.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The baby I missed.</td></tr>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_SkHRR66HGY/UYckmIYp2wI/AAAAAAAABr8/0hQUJXs06TQ/s1600/IMG_0870.JPG" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_SkHRR66HGY/UYckmIYp2wI/AAAAAAAABr8/0hQUJXs06TQ/s320/IMG_0870.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">But I did get first tracks in the backcountry.</td></tr>
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<br />
We
arrived at the old fishing hole as two others were packing up to return to the
village. They'd had luck catching fish so we decided to get to
work. The spot we were at was on sea ice near the shore where a stream
draining the hills we'd been climbing on emptied into the ocean. This
assured that open water was available below the sea ice and fisherpeople before
us has chipped out holes to catch the fish. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-uWadK1NJ49w/UYcuZL94SZI/AAAAAAAABxE/clRzYeup94Y/s1600/IMGP0641.JPG" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-uWadK1NJ49w/UYcuZL94SZI/AAAAAAAABxE/clRzYeup94Y/s320/IMGP0641.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">You just watch for a fish - then yank!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
There
are two primary methods to catching fish where we were. Dip netting and
jigging. Nets may be the fastest method but we didn't have one. The
traditional manaq would have to do. Basically what you have is a dowel
with some fishing line connected to a hook. The most basic fishing kit
ever. I actually felt overburdened with a reel on the ice fishing rod that
I'd borrowed from another teacher. No matter, the fish were there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In a matter of speaking they were
biting, but that's not completely accurate. The method we used involves
laying on the ice, sticking your face in the hole to block out the light so that
you can see into the water. I didn't believe that I would see anything at
first, but as my eyes adjusted I was overwhelmed at the numbers of fish
swirling about under the surface. At this point all you do is lower you
naked hook into the water, wait for a fish to approach it, and yank - snagging
the fish through the lower jaw. It was unbelievable. We caught fish
after fish like this. Kurt had advised us to be content with the smaller
guys - they fry up the best. With this we were completely content pulling
whatever fish came our way up and out of the water. In about half an hour
we'd caught about sixty fish between the four of us using three rods.
That's a little less that one fish per minute per person. It was awesome.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .1pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: .1pt;">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hIEoHevbEfM/UYc3yBr583I/AAAAAAAAB3E/rDV2v1JjR7U/s1600/IMG_3633.JPG" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hIEoHevbEfM/UYc3yBr583I/AAAAAAAAB3E/rDV2v1JjR7U/s400/IMG_3633.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of sixty.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CznzpDkBSnw/UYc2Vib24UI/AAAAAAAAB2k/CKCX9H3SSJg/s1600/IMG_3627.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CznzpDkBSnw/UYc2Vib24UI/AAAAAAAAB2k/CKCX9H3SSJg/s400/IMG_3627.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I know it looks ridiculous.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="margin-bottom: .1pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: .1pt;">
<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-djTnL-Vve0g/UYcpYsRmlZI/AAAAAAAABuQ/V-19P97OfPg/s1600/IMG_0917.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-djTnL-Vve0g/UYcpYsRmlZI/AAAAAAAABuQ/V-19P97OfPg/s400/IMG_0917.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our catch.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
The
walk back, however, was not so great. After realizing that walking over
ice covered mountains was more work than walking on ice covered oceans, we
decided to take the coastal route back. Longer? Maybe. Windier?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Absolutely.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But flatter and ultimately probably faster. Our
journey concluded, arriving wind- and sunburned, starving, and tired, about six
hours later after covering a total of about nine and a half miles. Quite
the day. </div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .1pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: .1pt;">
<b>Epilogue:</b></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .1pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: .1pt;">
We
were too tired and hungry the night we returned to eat the fish we’d
caught.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After giving away
approximately half of the fish, we quickly cleaned them and put then in the
refrigerator for the next night. </div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .1pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: .1pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .1pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: .1pt;">
Filling
two frying pans with oil we fried the little guys up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Absolutely delicious. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-RG48pimHVxI/UYcrcsndR0I/AAAAAAAABvU/dFcmw-4ARyg/s1600/IMG_0931.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-RG48pimHVxI/UYcrcsndR0I/AAAAAAAABvU/dFcmw-4ARyg/s400/IMG_0931.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">About 40 fish heads.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-BvP_yIETzNc/UYc5Zb5AARI/AAAAAAAAB3s/VJDPy5mks6M/s1600/IMG_3644.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-BvP_yIETzNc/UYc5Zb5AARI/AAAAAAAAB3s/VJDPy5mks6M/s400/IMG_3644.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fryin'</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-4REmwNHv_4g/UYc5t80idAI/AAAAAAAAB30/AyqTUEB2fWA/s1600/IMG_3646.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-4REmwNHv_4g/UYc5t80idAI/AAAAAAAAB30/AyqTUEB2fWA/s400/IMG_3646.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Batter fry assembly line.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ewNRoKyxhLM/UYc6lJEOX3I/AAAAAAAAB4M/zqWj60-evuU/s1600/IMG_3651.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ewNRoKyxhLM/UYc6lJEOX3I/AAAAAAAAB4M/zqWj60-evuU/s400/IMG_3651.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Oh yeah.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-1E19pm0OH9Q/UYc605IKJAI/AAAAAAAAB4U/Q0GjBTwwF_c/s1600/IMG_3652.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-1E19pm0OH9Q/UYc605IKJAI/AAAAAAAAB4U/Q0GjBTwwF_c/s400/IMG_3652.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">So tasty.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-IZJf4SgtTDc/UYc7AT_7qfI/AAAAAAAAB4c/Ib6-yYuWvMI/s1600/IMG_0830.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div>
</div>
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09862710049005047992noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1112002042919023105.post-90488272835156060362013-05-13T22:29:00.000-07:002013-05-13T22:30:32.359-07:00Acquiring Skills For Life<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I will leave Tununak one day, and when I do I will have collected the weirdest set of experiences. For example, I have cooked the senior banquet for six seniors and their ten guests each. I have run sound effects at a district-wide art performance. I have help create high school student schedules. But the most helpful thing, I'm sure, is perfecting the art of grocery shopping. A never ending process, shopping for food has become some sort of weird obsession.<br />
<br />
First off, remember that while there are two stores in town, the prices are exorbitant and the selection miserable. So our shopping usually happens twice a year - once in the fall and again over winter break.<br />
<br />
For the grocery nerds out there is our <a href="https://docs.google.com/spreadsheet/ccc?key=0An6QwlXsV8psdG1HdFViM1hHbzdFSXIxbDAxZWVpNnc&usp=sharing">list</a>.<br />
<br />
Here's the basic plan.<br />
<ol style="text-align: left;">
<li>Inventory what's on hand in our house.</li>
<li>Using that list and previous lists, begin making the current shopping list.</li>
<li>Separate it out into dry, shelf stable items; refrigerator; and frozen. These will be coming from different locations.</li>
<li>Once separated, attempt to order as much as possible from Amazon. With free shipping it often has some incredible deals. </li>
<li>The refrigerator and frozen items, however, require far more thought. After getting frustrated with the professional shoppers (commissioned shoppers in Anchorage) we decided to try it ourselves. The process requires a number of coolers (three), some cooler bags (two), duct tape, ice packs, and a knife. </li>
<li>Show up at the airport. Thank Alaska Air for their liberal three bag free policy (when flying within the state of Alaska). Slap the stickers on and board. Pray that the village flight is not too full so that all of your coolers get to fly with you.</li>
<li>Unpack. It's like Christmas. Kind of.</li>
</ol>
Here's what are freezer looks like right now - stocked full for next school year. <br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-DlDo86lrdjA/UZG4GUbWfGI/AAAAAAAAB5Q/jvuHhFq0DnA/s1600/IMG_3578.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-DlDo86lrdjA/UZG4GUbWfGI/AAAAAAAAB5Q/jvuHhFq0DnA/s400/IMG_3578.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mmm. Frozen foods.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Fec_pWfCu4I/UZHK9lEfdwI/AAAAAAAAB5w/r61hSsujTas/s1600/IMG_3577.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Fec_pWfCu4I/UZHK9lEfdwI/AAAAAAAAB5w/r61hSsujTas/s400/IMG_3577.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Angie did all the shopping. Booyeah.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09862710049005047992noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1112002042919023105.post-20640342070894031632013-03-03T19:38:00.000-08:002013-05-13T22:31:32.100-07:00Sunday, July 1st - Amritsar<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-GDkMLpcpnXw/UFF-kS8Kp9I/AAAAAAAAAbg/Zd8Z9M3VZpA/s1600/IMG_2672.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-GDkMLpcpnXw/UFF-kS8Kp9I/AAAAAAAAAbg/Zd8Z9M3VZpA/s320/IMG_2672.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cute, huh?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Not sure if I could ever get used to India. Yesterday morning we left Dharamsala at around 7am. We were headed to Amritsar in the western border state of Punjab. We'd hired two cabs, one carrying six and ours carrying three.<br />
<br />
The journey was billed as a 5-6 hour trip. I don't know why I even think it will take that amount of time. The variables involved in Indian travel are too numerous and random to mention. Things that impacted our actual journey, however, included the following:<br />
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>The language barrier. Our driver spoke very limited English. We spoke very limited Hindi (actually about all I know is "sit down" and "repeat after me"). Combine this with the fact that the typical Indian response to a question posed in English is "yes" regardless of the whether or not the answer to the question is yes, or even whether or not the question is understood.</li>
<li>Traffic. At one point we were stopped for ten minutes for no apparent reason besides the fact that all of the cars in front of us were stopped.</li>
<li>Tea breaks. Fewer on this time around, but still too many considering the fact that it was over 100 degrees out.</li>
<li>Random additional breaks. Usually spontaneous bathroom breaks for the drivers on the side of the road. But other times for driver conferences. The reasons for these meetings are highlighted next.</li>
<li>Detours. Completely unmarked, and in reality optional, as some vehicles choose to continue along as if the road under construction was not have finished and partially paved. And you can always just drive around the massive piles of dirt and rock used in road construction.</li>
<li>Getting lost. Our drivers got lost - twice. We were driving from one giant city to another and they managed to get lost. Not that I would have done any better, but I'm paying these people because they are experts.</li>
</ul>
So back to the beginning of the journey. We left Dharamsala at about 7am. Immdediately we began the descent. Dh'sala is nestled in the foothills at around 1200m. Amritsar is well under a few hundred meters. We zipped along the winding mountain roads, our driver rarely taking heed of the helpful signs that showed up before many hairpin turn ("Do Not Dare! Drive With Care!" and "Be Gentle On My Curves"). Reaching the bottom of the mountains was relief until we realized that the temperature had risen considerably. The average 80 degree days of Dharamsala had given way what was sure to be Hellish. Barely 9:00 and it was already well above 90 degrees. Well, now is a great time to stop for tea and scrmuled egg. Thank God its hygienic. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-mcV4A4lrrWQ/UK9orgPRKiI/AAAAAAAAAt4/eVUnqkKAFK4/s1600/IMG_2675.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-mcV4A4lrrWQ/UK9orgPRKiI/AAAAAAAAAt4/eVUnqkKAFK4/s200/IMG_2675.JPG" width="200" /></a><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-BvaRUB2x4_w/UK9oj1O3O_I/AAAAAAAAAtw/gzZlUCJ-4YU/s1600/IMG_2674.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-BvaRUB2x4_w/UK9oj1O3O_I/AAAAAAAAAtw/gzZlUCJ-4YU/s200/IMG_2674.JPG" width="200" /></a></div>
<br />
From there we left Himachel Pradesh and entered Punjab in the heat and the traffic that is India. Again, I became amazed that I was still alive. What would be considered a close call in the US was becoming an hourly experience here. Passing a truck in the wrong lane while oncoming traffic squeezes past in the exact same lane is no big deal. Being nearly forced off the road when the car you are passing decides that it too would like to pass the vehicle in front of him scares the daylights out of me but doesn't even phase our driver. And then there is the dodging - of spilled goods, pedestrians, bikes, rickshaws, horse drawn carts, potholes, washed out sections of road, etc, etc, etc.<br />
<br />
After some time driving we stopped on a very small road in the middle of some rice field, lost I believe (we had left the main road due to some road construction then driven through some very small villages and side roads to end up with both drivers out of their cars conversing with the random person then turning around, retracing steps and repeating). Reconstructing our journey up to this point it seems that to avoid some unexpected road construction we'd taken an impromptu detour. We were now smack dab in the middle of a primitive farm community. Women were rolling cow pies to dry on the walls of their yards. A future source of fuel we reasoned. The diversity in India is amazing. I have to stop this post here for the sake of time. But there is much more to come. <br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Ktmaa29kr1Q/UK9pEspmLPI/AAAAAAAAAuI/G5w2hk-tqeA/s1600/IMG_2677.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Ktmaa29kr1Q/UK9pEspmLPI/AAAAAAAAAuI/G5w2hk-tqeA/s400/IMG_2677.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lost in the rice paddy. I'd like to say incompetent, but they did end up getting us to Amritsar...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09862710049005047992noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1112002042919023105.post-73085386059161707812012-11-28T21:15:00.001-08:002013-05-13T22:31:32.104-07:00Thursday, June 28th - Dharamsala<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Rumor has it that the monsoon is set to break today. Not sure exactly what that means. At the moment it's about 75, sunny with bubbling cumulus clouds to the north over the mountains. Granted, this is what it was like yesterday. Then at about 10:30 in the morning, in the middle of my volunteer placement, it began pouring. The rain poured into the windows and through the open doors. The assistant teacher attempted to combat the flood flowing across the floor with a grass broom but with little luck. She gave up, instead deciding to shut the windows and door.<br />
<br />
I know I haven't talked about my volunteer placement much - that post is coming up - but the daycare is little more than a concrete cube with metal windows and doors. I started a list of the things that they don't have, but I am going to change it to a list of what they have. About eight small tables, a red blanket, and a pair of burners to make lunch on. That's pretty much it. No electricity or running water. No paper, books, coloring supplies, etc. But more later. The point here is that with the doors and windows closed, the daycare was pitch black.<br />
<br />
So there I sat, in the middle of an Indian daycare, surrounded by twelve preschoolers as the rain fell. In the dark, over the sound of rain drops falling a child screamed and come strange man entered the daycare and began arguing with an elder demanding his umbrella. So much for doing the things we had planned. Little of anything would be accomplished until the rains stopped, which could be a long time if this truly is the monsoon.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-6J76If7aSXg/UK9FOuijKpI/AAAAAAAAAec/wa_9m5CrIHk/s1600/IMG_2503.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-6J76If7aSXg/UK9FOuijKpI/AAAAAAAAAec/wa_9m5CrIHk/s320/IMG_2503.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is not from the same day, but it's what we got.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09862710049005047992noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1112002042919023105.post-46358732544626946942012-11-28T21:10:00.000-08:002013-05-13T22:31:32.102-07:00Wednesday, July 27th - Kangra Fort<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Today we visited an ancient fort - Kangra Fort - with the CCS
crew. Entering, Angie and I rented some awesome little guided headphone
sets. Mine only spoke Hindi. Bummer. So I plugged my headphones into
the second jack on Angie's set. We were so cool!<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrpLSk_qJjrL1r0jzV9aHEKKx3CMQNbJpwd09HpIKHr151zKgGhZfvMoQIp-rb9yHbTgIBWrqeEcUZoakCO1SHp2p_JeztBuhz9W7O4W6kdKdTabqI85ENeQA-1x8hUgzH6T4INAy60K4/s1600/550977_10150990428878237_1591854360_n.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrpLSk_qJjrL1r0jzV9aHEKKx3CMQNbJpwd09HpIKHr151zKgGhZfvMoQIp-rb9yHbTgIBWrqeEcUZoakCO1SHp2p_JeztBuhz9W7O4W6kdKdTabqI85ENeQA-1x8hUgzH6T4INAy60K4/s1600/550977_10150990428878237_1591854360_n.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yep. That's what I will look like in 20 years. Angie can't wait!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-dsDl9hFIUIg/UK9kb_kqoeI/AAAAAAAAArQ/P23XO43_rFs/s320/IMG_2645.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It's old.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EqiRFRVxato/UK9lHdyR-9I/AAAAAAAAAro/FAqfBC9ncJ8/s1600/IMG_2648.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EqiRFRVxato/UK9lHdyR-9I/AAAAAAAAAro/FAqfBC9ncJ8/s320/IMG_2648.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">There is no way you could invade this place.</td></tr>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09862710049005047992noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1112002042919023105.post-58838283851787219512012-11-23T11:32:00.001-08:002012-11-23T11:32:35.193-08:00Tuesday, June 26th, 2012 - Dharamsala<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-D4fA3mwHoo0/UK9c1gQNMkI/AAAAAAAAAnw/kvUi06iP0Mc/s1600/IMG_2595.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-D4fA3mwHoo0/UK9c1gQNMkI/AAAAAAAAAnw/kvUi06iP0Mc/s320/IMG_2595.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Picnic. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Sunday was dedicated to a picnic put on by the staff at CCS. We cruised to a park about a forty-five minute drive from Dharamsala. Down a windy road, next to a river was where we staged our picnic. The weather was beatiful. Sun shining down, a single shade tree to keep the sun off the food, and a wide open field for a game of cricket. My time in New Zealand prepared my little for the game. I don't seem to be destined to fame on the cricket field, but it was enjoyable to hit and run. I still feel like I'm playing baseball the whole time, which isn't bad for me, but I think that all the cricket lovers of the world (the Kiwis, the Indians, I'm sure the British) bristle at the thought. Oh well.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-vQBBtlGu-Sw/UK9fmk9UqxI/AAAAAAAAAog/sEqb_8LsF1E/s1600/IMG_2602.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-vQBBtlGu-Sw/UK9fmk9UqxI/AAAAAAAAAog/sEqb_8LsF1E/s320/IMG_2602.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A home run!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-OcDb_GBYmyc/UK9eLZGGn9I/AAAAAAAAAoQ/b-zHh6Ks9YE/s1600/IMG_2600.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-OcDb_GBYmyc/UK9eLZGGn9I/AAAAAAAAAoQ/b-zHh6Ks9YE/s320/IMG_2600.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Great form!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
After the game we sat down to a delightful meal. I don't think I'll ever get enough Indian food. It is just too delicious. Following the meal the CCS team insisted on taking a photograph of our group near the river. "Pass us your cameras," they insisted. "We'll take group shots." Sounded like a good idea. Little did we all know that an all out attack was coming. Immediately following the last pictures we were attacked from all sides and tossed into the river. So much for friendly photo ops. Refreshing yes. A little frightening yes. No matter how open minded I try to be I can't get it out of my head. The water here is unsafe to drink. Tap water - the water that comes into your house will make you sick. How safe can a river possibly be? Well, days went by and I survived. <br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mlx_MkDh3x0/UK9gzmmsW5I/AAAAAAAAAo4/Fj5OZ0S0WKM/s1600/IMG_2606.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mlx_MkDh3x0/UK9gzmmsW5I/AAAAAAAAAo4/Fj5OZ0S0WKM/s400/IMG_2606.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Swimming.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09862710049005047992noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1112002042919023105.post-74711287990530650902012-11-23T11:25:00.001-08:002012-11-28T20:38:02.192-08:00Sunday, June 24th, 2012 - Dharamsala<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Last night we traveled to McLeod. The experience began before the journey. About half an hour before the cabs were to arrive the storm broke. For the next thirty minutes raindrops the size of marbles fell from the sky. Then marbles turned to ice and hail ensued. Wind swiftly followed sending hail and rain through the open upstairs windows of the volunteer house. Rain water was pouring down the stairs as the two girls upstairs struggled to close the windows against the pre-monsoon wind. And then as suddenly as it started the rains and hail and wind stopped, and the taxis arrived.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-njczWiWrRbQ/UK9UkUaPcJI/AAAAAAAAAl8/0w5lML2Ngtg/s1600/IMG_2577.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-njczWiWrRbQ/UK9UkUaPcJI/AAAAAAAAAl8/0w5lML2Ngtg/s400/IMG_2577.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Just a little pre-monsoon shower.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Worried about the roads we paid the drivers an extra 200 rupees to take the slower, safer way. Split four ways it worked out to a little less than a dollar to avoid the possibility of testing gravity in the foothills of the Himalayas. Climbing three thousand feet through the skinny Indian roads with the threat of another drenching we felt the money well spent.<br />
<br />
The driving was beginning to shock me less. I'm not sure if this was a good thing. The driving itself had become no less chaotic. But order is beginning to become evident. Typically the largest vehicle has the right of way. Honking happens constantly, but not randomly and not as a means of conveying anger. Rounding blind turns, a honk alerts oncoming traffic. Passing a car, motorcycle, pedestrian, cow, etc. - a friendly beep. Just when I thought I'd grown accustomed to the chaos, all hell broke loose nearing McLeod. A little more than a kilometer away traffic came to a complete standstill. Ahead on the road, the skinny mountain road - cliff on the left, sheer drop of the right - a bus was a attempting to turn around. Three point turn yeah right. The driver was on about point forty and wasn't getting close. He was, however, effectively blocking both lanes of traffic as he'd gotten himself halfway around. A foot forward, crank it the other way, a foot in reverse, all the time being pounded on and yelled to by helpful assistants, the bus was going nowhere fast. And neither were we. Rather than witness a bus full of people topple over a cliff, and to avoid waiting an hour of more to travel a kilometer we left our taxis making note of the license plate as the same car and driver was responsible for taking us home later that evening.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Cn06qp8VXNo/UK9VZ4cnMCI/AAAAAAAAAms/s8u6iycUv3c/s1600/IMG_2584.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Cn06qp8VXNo/UK9VZ4cnMCI/AAAAAAAAAms/s8u6iycUv3c/s320/IMG_2584.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">She looks how we felt.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
During our five minute walk to McLeod traffic did not budge. Approaching the city center we discovered the reason the bus was attempting a life threatening U-turn to begin with. The city center itself marked the convergence of McLeod's main roads. Here was also the convergence of everything that was India. Cars, motorcycles, people, vendors, taxis, cows, goats, monks, tourists, dogs, garbage, and so many more things that my overloaded brain couldn't possibly record. And then the sounds, and the smells, and everything else. Movement through the mess of humanity and livestock was inversely related to size with the exception of the cows who moved where and when they wanted. Needless to say, we were pretty well sized to move through the congestion.<br />
<br />
Exploring McLeod tapped skills I'd acquired after years of attending punk rock shows and would prove useful over and over again when navigating Indian crowds. The basics consist of three things.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-i7fBQRo8vr0/UK9Vp8_995I/AAAAAAAAAm0/HLeswP-OQC4/s1600/IMG_2585.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-i7fBQRo8vr0/UK9Vp8_995I/AAAAAAAAAm0/HLeswP-OQC4/s320/IMG_2585.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Just more of the fun that is India.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
(1) Always keep moving forward taking advantage of the little openings that occur between people.<br />
(2) Look backward often to assure that your people are still with you (and to keep an eye out for potential pickpockets).<br />
(3) Move to the side when you hear a horn blast. Okay - this skill has nothing to do with punk rock shows. At least that I've been to.<br />
<br />
In addition to crowd navigation we also got a chance to work on our haggling skills. Angie was successful in bringing down the price on two different pairs of earrings after much back and forth. To this day I have no idea if we received a fair price or not, but it's a start.<br />
<br />
The evening ended with dinner at a restaurant near the main city center. For how insanely busy the streets were, the restaurants were fairly empty. Cool beer, some random items from the menu - all good things.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-_EPGNmrvpD8/UK9cRdLtk2I/AAAAAAAAAng/R-0RoxIKvmI/s1600/IMG_2589.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-_EPGNmrvpD8/UK9cRdLtk2I/AAAAAAAAAng/R-0RoxIKvmI/s400/IMG_2589.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The CCS crowd. Note the bottled waters. Not an unecessary precaution as that glass of grape juice to my right contained some gut emptying critters that knocked the owner off her feet for a couple of days.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Of course the night can't end on a calm note. After dinner we decided to grab ice cream at the shop below the restaurant at the street level. While waiting for our change the power in half of McLeod cut out leaving our shop and our entire side of the street in the dark. And the rain began to fall again. The crowd cheered. We took our change and looked for shelter from the rain.<br />
<br />
We regrouped under the overhang of a building. It was time to find our taxi. We needed to find the same car that drove us - a seemingly impossible task. With all the people and taxis and rain and questionable power we doubted ever finding our man. But we turned the corner and there he was, waiting patiently. The return journey in the dark seemed like it took half the time. We arrived back at the volunteer houses safe and sound, racking up a total fare of 700 rupees. </div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09862710049005047992noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1112002042919023105.post-11145836574846298202012-11-23T01:32:00.002-08:002012-11-23T01:32:22.377-08:00Happy Thanksgiving<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Officially, Thanksgiving ended here in Alaska twenty minutes ago. I
love this holiday for so many reasons. The food, obviously. But also I
love the concept of celebrating the act of making it through another year. And
taking time to reflect back on the reasons for that success. Spending
part of my year in India and Nepal has made me ever more thankful for
what I have in my life. <br />
<br />
I have wanted to get more of those experiences recorded here. If anything because their current place of residence is scattered on about twenty loose leaf sheets of paper and also in a bright pink/purple mini journal. So stay tuned for future posts. And have a Happy Day After Thanksgiving.<br />
<br />
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09862710049005047992noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1112002042919023105.post-83996784333505578392012-08-05T11:19:00.002-07:002012-08-05T11:19:40.010-07:00Thursday, June 21st, 2012 - Dharamsala<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Flights on Thursday were cancelled again. Same line: "Low clouds and poor visibility." Far more unrest with the passengers this time, however. Through them I believe an alternate story may be more accurate.<br />
<br />
Kingfisher Airlines (who also happens to own one of the major beer companies in India - conveniently sharing a name) is going through bankruptcy at the moment. When there aren't enough seats sold, the plane is simply allocated somewhere else. This means that we've spent the previous two days sitting in an airport waiting for a flight that was never going to fly.<br />
<br />
Another call to Bela, the CCS administrator, another taxi ride back to CCS home base, and now an overnight taxi has been set up for the two of us. Vicky, our guy from the first night, will be accompanying us as he'll be helping run the program in Dharamsala provided we ever end up arriving there.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/eric_ellefson/7718740678/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_2498 by Eric_Ellefson, on Flickr"><img alt="IMG_2498" height="300" src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8291/7718740678_33b7ac107e.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Another cancelled flight. At least they treat the monks the same way...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
In the process of reclaiming our luggage and canceling our tickets (again) we met two young women in the same boat as us. The first woman, heading to Dharamsala to study Tibetan, is originally from Germany. The second is from Chennai in India and had plans of visiting a friend. The two met while waiting, and now have met us, and our seeking our assistance. We've offered Bela's assistance to them, who kindly booked them a taxi of their own to follow ours through the night.<br />
<br />
The taxi was a experience - superior to flying. Ten and a half hours overnight past trucks, buses, motorcycles, horse drawn carts, cows... I really can't get over the diversity of things on the road. The actual drive was done primarily in the dark, so we couldn't see much, but based on the frequent brakes slamming and general overall speed, there were a lot of other things in the road in front of us. And of course there was the road itself. We'd be cruising along when suddenly I'd be jolted from my light sleep as the driver was slowing down as a section of the pavement would be missing for a couple hundred yards. We'd clear that and speeds would increase again.<br />
<br />
Every hour or two we'd pull over at a roadside tea house called a <i>dhaba.</i> A set of about five propane burners topped with large steel pots would house hot chai (<i>chai </i>means tea so chai tea is redundant). The owner of the dhaba would awaken from his sleep in a chair nearby and serve us and anyone else passing by a cup of delicious, spiced chai and we'd be on our way. This proved to be a wonderful way to keep our driver of the evening awake and alert.<br />
<br />
Around five in the morning the sky began to brighten revealing the lowest of the Himalayas. We stopped next to a Hindu temple for the drivers to take half hour power naps. As morning prayers began inside we sat overlooking the mountains. Monkeys leaped from tree to tree as the sun climbed above the mountains. Our drivers awoke and the journey continued. Two hours later we were there - Dharamsala at last.</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09862710049005047992noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1112002042919023105.post-58225744172350993222012-06-25T01:37:00.003-07:002012-06-25T01:37:33.983-07:00A noteAt the moment all posts are being done with an iPad. It's pretty annoying as formatting and auto-correcting can inadvertently change my words without me knowing. If you catch an error or can't understand, send me a message. In addition, all photos will be uploaded after I have a chance to upload pictures to a computer - maybe not until I get back to the US.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09862710049005047992noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1112002042919023105.post-41941901630158065322012-06-18T23:59:00.001-07:002012-08-05T10:54:02.128-07:00An initiation<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
We were supposed to be in Dharamsala by now. Apparently low clouds and rain can cancel flights in India as well as in Tununak. So now we are a day and a half late to our placement provided the weather has cleared. After reclaiming our luggage and being rebooked, we were responsible for taking a taxi back to the apartment complex we'd been staying in. It sounded like an easy task until the taxi driver brought us to where we told him. We had provided the driver the wrong address, which he dutifully weaved through a packed market to get us there. Luckily our driver had a cell phone and command of Hindi and discovered our address mistake. A few minutes later we were back to our apartment. <br />
<br />
The CCS staff fed us (and we kind of crashed a birthday) and told us to go walk down the road a ways to check out the chaos that is New Delhi. After a short walk, and successfully beating Frogger twice to cross the road and back, we returned to our apartment. I woke up in the middle of the night unaware of even going to bed. The heat really sucks the life out of you. <br />
<br />
In the morning we went out walking again. This time we turned and found the neighborhood we were supposed to have visited the night before. People were everywhere. Walking, driving, biking. All at the same time. You'd be walking down the road, a horn would beep behind us, and then we'd be zipped by, usually by the typical green and yellow auto-rickshaw, each making eye contact attempting to get the fare. We stopped at a street vendor for a snack. With the language barrier it is hard to tell exactly what we ordered, but I am going to guess a samosa, a deep fried pocket-type snack with a potato filling, and an idli, a fermented rice cake - but this second is only my best guess at the moment. Regardless of what we ate, they were delightful. Delightful and cheap. The pair of items set us back a total of thirteen rupees. In dollars, at about fifty rupees to the dollar, that's about twenty-six cents. Unbelievable. The feast is on. <br />
<br />
After our snack, we continued our walk. We passed two really old monument-like things. Domed, made of red brick, one served as a tomb. The dimensions of each monument was written on the plaque nearby, but not the date. Apparently they are from the Lodi period, but my knowledge of Indian history is not that great yet. We then stopped into a Hindu temple. After removing our shoes we went in. It was all white, the floor made of inlaid stones in an intricate pattern. We walked around for about two minutes, then unsure of exactly what to do, we went back to reclaim our shoes. As we continued on we came the the end road. Here another item of historical interest. <br />
<br />
We are staying in the area of New Delhi called Hauz Khas which means 'royal tank' after a large reservoir built here in the 13th century. What we had stumbled on was the religious school built overlooking the water around the same time. On the United States this would have been a major attraction. For being nearly one thousand years old, it is in remarkable shape. Made of a similar red stone, the school had a number of buildings including a mosque, a number of tombs, and what are essentially dorms for the students. <br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/eric_ellefson/7718739792/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_2484 by Eric_Ellefson, on Flickr"><img alt="IMG_2484" height="300" src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8423/7718739792_863388d0cc.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The "tank" surrounded by the school</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
The dorms were what struck me the most. Built into the walls, each room measured about five feet wide by eight feet deep. The door looked out across the water and an arched window was built above each door for additional light to enter. To study at the school must have been quite an honor. <br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/eric_ellefson/7718776580/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_2495 by Eric_Ellefson, on Flickr"><img alt="IMG_2495" height="400" src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8422/7718776580_a0dd9860bf.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A view from the ground looking into the dorms</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
After exploring for a bit, the late morning heat was taking its toll. We picked up a bottle of water and a Diet Coke for forty rupees and began the journey home. Just before recrossing the street we bought one last snack. Three rotis and some form of dumpling in a yellow sauce for twenty rupees. Delicious. <br />
<br />
For the morning, the total is below. Nice way to spend an extra day in Delhi. Some things are very different from Tununak. <br />
<br />
Samosa and idli 13 rupees <br />
Water and Diet Coke 40 rupees <br />
Roti and some dumpling 20 rupees <br />
Mango 21 rupees <br />
Total 94 rupees (less than $2)</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09862710049005047992noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1112002042919023105.post-90853686519484785242012-06-18T23:17:00.002-07:002012-08-05T10:55:38.078-07:00It begins...India<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
It appears that what is said about India is true. Maybe too grand of a statement for only being in the country for twenty-four hours, but I guess time will tell. To begin, Angie and I left from Minneapolis at about three in the afternoon. Eight hours later we were in the Amsterdam airport for five hours. Another eight hour flight brought us to New Delhi. For those adding up the travel time, that is about three hours shorter and two fewer planes than the Minneapolis-Tununak journey. It won't be the only difference between Alaska and India, I'm sure. <br />
<br />
We landed in New Delhi around ten thirty at night India time. Waiting for us was our driver from Cross Cultural Solutions, Vicky. Wearing jeans, a polo, tennis shoes, and the a turban, Vicky was our guardian for the first part of the Indian adventure. This trend, the blending of Eastern and Western cultures, is present all over India. One other volunteer was on our plane, a recent high school graduate from Guatemala, Isabella, so the four of us made our way to a taxi. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/eric_ellefson/7718737904/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_2476 by Eric_Ellefson, on Flickr"><img alt="IMG_2476" height="375" src="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7264/7718737904_defc53ea35.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Walking to the taxi, in the heat, led by Isabella</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
In the taxi we quickly discovered that what is said about driving in India is true. Road rules are not rules as much as they are "guidelines". Even at midnight, the roads are full of life. The first thing I noticed was that the painted lines mean nothing to the drivers, at least in my opinion. If there is an opening in traffic, one must zip through. A courteous honk of the horn alerts the slower vehicle that you are passing or is heard from others when being passed. I have heard it derided as chaos and anarchy. But it is anything but. The diversity of vehicles, from trucks to taxis to small cars to three-wheeled motor rickshaws to bicycles to pedestrians - everyone moves along at there own pace. I never saw any agitation in the drivers around us or in our driver. It's just the way it goes. <br />
<br />
Half an hour later we arrived at CCS's home base. Here we would be spending the next day and a half. A quick teeth brushing and it was off to bed as we began orientation first thing in the morning.<br />
<br />
The heat in India is oppressive. The night we arrived, around midnight, registered at 94 degrees. It had to be close to that at eight thirty the following Monday with a promise to increase as the day progressed. I don't like the heat. The Indians appear unfazed. Life continues as it must. Here a connection to Tununak. Where the cold sucked motivation from me, the village went on with it's business. I don't know what it is, but weather is not as big a deal as I view it to be. It shows up every day, regardless of my desires, so why stress about it.</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09862710049005047992noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1112002042919023105.post-49366437511214187072012-03-03T16:34:00.000-08:002012-03-03T17:01:28.024-08:00Dreaming of the springAlas, it's all in vain, but I want spring. Most of the time, actually. It's been a rough week. Two snow days last week. A late start. I got to be acting site administrator for a day - a day that only 40% of the students showed up due to what probably should have been the third snow day. Oh well. Here's what I do to keep my mind off the endless winter wonderland.<br />
<br />
<b>Plants</b><br />
My Alaskan answer to gardening. Hydroponics up and humming. At the moment lettuce (Romaine and red leaf), basil, green beans, and pumpkins. Yeah, pumpkins. They'll never work, but I saved the seeds from Thanksgiving, and what the heck, why not.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/eric_ellefson/6804354834/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_1797 by Eric_Ellefson, on Flickr"><img alt="IMG_1797" height="375" src="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7062/6804354834_ca097431cc.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">So little looking right now...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
I also started flowers in the window. As the days get longer I'm hoping for better results that last semester's attempts. They blossomed, but half-heartedly, and the poor sunflower it bent and bent until it finally couldn't any longer.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/eric_ellefson/6521731883/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_1692 by Eric_Ellefson, on Flickr"><img alt="IMG_1692" height="500" src="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7149/6521731883_cbd3592729.jpg" width="375" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">An Alaskan Sunflower. So nakleng.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/eric_ellefson/6804341988/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_1796 by Eric_Ellefson, on Flickr"><img alt="IMG_1796" height="500" src="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7038/6804341988_aea084fcc3.jpg" width="375" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Flowers, peas, and spider plants. Oh and some avocado pits back there.</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<b>Food and Bread</b><br />
Same old, but it's always a delight to have the smell of fresh bread wafting about. Pretty much perfected a whole wheat sandwich loaf. Bagels, also pretty legit. Ciabatta and pizza - close to perfection. Working on some others.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/eric_ellefson/6118703624/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_1658 by Eric_Ellefson, on Flickr"><img alt="IMG_1658" height="375" src="http://farm7.staticflickr.com/6200/6118703624_85ee17a0e3.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Muffalettas on ciabatta - a delight </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/eric_ellefson/6521733349/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_1671 by Eric_Ellefson, on Flickr"><img alt="IMG_1671" height="375" src="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7010/6521733349_76359080c3.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bread and bagels</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Oh, and getting close to working my way through some of my faithful bulk items. Ben and Sara - in case you were wondering -that 25 lb bag of black beans? It's gone. I ate them all. Well, there was help along the way, but it's quite an accomplishment. And almost done with the soy beans - both the end of the bag you so kindly donated and my own 25 lb bag. The dried corn and pinto beans, however - not even close. <br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/eric_ellefson/6804268446/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_1751 by Eric_Ellefson, on Flickr"><img alt="IMG_1751" height="500" src="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7039/6804268446_67ee4265b1.jpg" width="375" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The last of the 25lbs of black beans</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<b>Dancing</b><br />
Actually, watching dancing. Our dance festival was a few weekends ago. It's always a good time to see people outside the context of school. <br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/eric_ellefson/6804317492/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_1780 by Eric_Ellefson, on Flickr"><img alt="IMG_1780" height="375" src="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7207/6804317492_9c91c58a93.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A break in between songs</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/eric_ellefson/6804306374/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_1779 by Eric_Ellefson, on Flickr"><img alt="IMG_1779" height="375" src="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7049/6804306374_7d57d4efd3.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tununak dancing</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b>Photographing the Increasing Piles of Snow</b><br />
I keep taking pictures thinking <i>Wow, that's a lot of snow</i> and then it falls again. So here's a collection of pictures. I'll try and caption them with dates.<b> </b><b> </b><br />
<b> </b> <br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/eric_ellefson/6950429411/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_1785 by Eric_Ellefson, on Flickr"><img alt="IMG_1785" height="375" src="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7187/6950429411_3308c6b1df.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The BIA</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/eric_ellefson/6804285364/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_1789 by Eric_Ellefson, on Flickr"><img alt="IMG_1789" height="375" src="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7039/6804285364_7fdc074952.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">What's left of the stairs - Feb 28</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/eric_ellefson/6804276226/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_1791 by Eric_Ellefson, on Flickr"><img alt="IMG_1791" height="375" src="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7050/6804276226_57afcbbe03.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The snowmobile shed - Feb 28</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<b>Daylight</b><br />
It's getting to be perfect. Of course this only lasts a week or two as we gain about forty-five minutes of sunlight a week. But to wake up to sunlight streaming in through the windows is welcome sight.<b> </b> <br />
<b> </b> Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09862710049005047992noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1112002042919023105.post-57689844526720625682012-02-03T11:15:00.000-08:002012-02-03T11:15:39.463-08:00Well, what should I expect...I do live in Alaska.It's cold here. Really, really cold. And has been since a week before Christmas. Currently, twenty-six below zero. But only a light wind, so that's nice. The consequences of the weather can be quite frightening. I'll start at the less so, and see where it takes us.<br />
<ul>
<li>Upon returning after Christmas break, we in the BIA discovered that the pipes were quite frozen. Not all pipes, but the drain pipes. Interesting side note - when the drains are plugged, but not the supply lines, interesting fundamental lessons are learned. For example, waste pools at the lowest point. In this case - two teachers at the other side of the BIA - in their bathroom. Quite disturbing to see human waste returning through the drain in a bathtub to nearly fill the basin. No fear, the bucket brigade was put to work and overflow was kept to a minimum. And after only a week, the plumbing was working again fine. </li>
<li>School is difficult to have when the weather/wind/snow is so fierce. Since returning we have had a handful of late starts (I think last count was four) and one day cancelled completely. We nearly had school cancelled yesterday as all water lines at the school were frozen. They did thaw, however, and school went as planned - kind of.</li>
<li>Why kind of? Well, the thing is, we are running a high school at the moment with only 2/3 of our class. The remaining third - they've been stuck out of the village...since Saturday. They left for basketball tournaments (both the boys team and the girls) last Friday, and here I sit, the following Friday, and they still aren't back. So it's been a slow, quiet week.</li>
<li>The BIA suffered its latest injury yesterday. A pipe burst in the vacant apartment down the hall. This came immediately following a warning from our maintenance guy about keeping my apartment at a warm enough temperature (so much for saving the world(okay, in his defense, he probably had a point - there was a layer of ice in my shower and the water line was frozen...so...).</li>
<li>The final point is the most serious. Living in rural Alaska one becomes familiar with how dangerous life out here really is. In the past week, two people have died traveling over the tundra. Both became lost or disoriented and ended up freezing to death before search and rescue could find them. There are stories in Yup'ik lore that say that when the weather is bad, and refuses to let up, that the weather is hunting. It only lets up after getting its fill. I am not a spiritual or superstitious person. But chills run down my spine as I write this.</li>
</ul>
And with that I end this post on a brighter note. The weather is supposed to turn beginning tomorrow. We are expecting a fifty(!) degree change in temperature over the next thirty-six hours. Maybe the next post will be of me sledding or climbing the hills. I am feeling all cooped up and to be able to spend some time outside without worrying about frostbite would be amazing. Check back soon. Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09862710049005047992noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1112002042919023105.post-22806162023941202972011-11-09T19:06:00.000-08:002012-03-03T16:36:26.376-08:00Apparently I just lived through a snowicaneThe night before:<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/1D5ByU0XAGo" width="560"></iframe>
<br />
<br />
Not sure what to make of the major network news stations. I mean, the <a href="http://www.washingtonpost.com/national/alaska-storm-brings-epic-flooding-snowy-weather-and-strong-winds/2011/11/09/gIQAv4uR6M_story.html"><i>Washington Post</i></a> says that, "A storm of historic intensity continues to pound the west coast of
Alaska today. Twice the size of Texas, the storm is as deep as a
category 3 hurricane." A hurricane?! Really? Did I just live through a hurricane?<br />
<br />
I'm going to say nope. But it was kind of crazy. The weather itself was nothing out of the ordinary. The winds were high. The precipitation didn't fall (literally - it just traveled horizontally across the world). But these things are typical of Alaska storms. What was freaky was the potential storm surge. The flooding. Normally these storms happen in the dead of winter when the coast is protected by a mile or more of sea ice. High waves stay safely out to sea. The wind can't push the tide exceptionally high. Last night, however, without our safety ice, people were worried.<br />
<br />
News of the storm was buzzing throughout the village the days preceding it. Reports and rumors mixed and anxiety slowly began to build. The storm was supposed to hit around 1:00 in the afternoon. School was going to go as late as possible. It turned out that 2:45 was that time. We dismissed early, sending students home with their parents. Almost immediately following dismissal, the school was reopened for families who wished to evacuate their homes. A storm surge of 10-15 feet would threaten to breach the sea wall, essentially flooding all of Downtown, including teacher housing where all of the teachers live.<br />
<br />
Part of Downtown lost power around dinner time. At about 10:30 we received a phone call from our principal urging us to spend the night at the school as the water was continuing to rise. After sending three teachers to get a look at the ocean we made the decision to move up to school for the night. So all of us teachers from the BIA moved into a classroom for the night. Waking up a few short hours later a tired group of teachers began teaching a tired bunch of students. The weather is supposed to pick up again tonight. I'm hoping it doesn't. I need some sleep.<br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="https://www.alaskadispatch.com/article/western-alaska-villages-lose-power-storm-floodwaters-surge#.TrsvLyX7vr0.facebook">Great Pictures of TUNUNAK!</a><br />
<a href="http://www.washingtonpost.com/national/alaska-storm-brings-epic-flooding-snowy-weather-and-strong-winds/2011/11/09/gIQAv4uR6M_story.html">Washington Post article</a><br />
<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jATVJazt7XE">Diane Sawyer and the NEWS!</a>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09862710049005047992noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1112002042919023105.post-65406824964523120702011-10-10T00:27:00.000-07:002011-10-10T00:28:49.196-07:00We done got chickens (Part 1)Few weeks back my roommate, Adam, and myself ordered some chicks online. Careful now. I'm talking baby chickens. And they are the cutest little buggers.<br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/eric_ellefson/6001094392/" title="5987199129_1f285870da_b by Eric_Ellefson, on Flickr"><img alt="5987199129_1f285870da_b" height="500" src="http://farm7.static.flickr.com/6022/6001094392_2f8ac31899.jpg" width="332" /></a><br />
<br />
First website wanted to charge us something like $40 for shipping cuz we had too few creatures. They huddle for warmth apparently and five is too few for adequate warmth generating. Without the extra brothers and sisters the company inserts some fandangled heating contraption. So we went shopping elsewhere. Found a site that would ship for less but warned that they may pack in some extra chicks (most likely baby roosters) to supply that needed warmth. Sounds good we thought. Clearly we didn't think that one through.<br />
<br />
A few days later the mailman rang the doorbell. "Your chickens are here. You need to pick them up at the post office." Then he went into inquiry mode asking for details. He was interested. As everyone should be.<br />
<br />
Well off to the post office we went. At the counter we waited for an eternity. Not sure where the little things were being kept but it sure was a long ways back. We heard them before we saw them. <i>Chirp! Chirp! </i>Awwww... In the box they shuffled and chirped. We carried them out and strapped them - oh yeah, we were on bikes - to the rack on the back of Adam's bike. A few bungee cords later and we were off.<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/6U_gMOQOZ3o" width="420"></iframe>
<br />
<br />
Fifteen minutes later we were home. We open the box to check on our purchase. I was sure it would be bedlam. Poor chickens, two days in the mail, in the heat. I was worried. Those fears, thankfully, were for naught. A new problem was quickly realized. Remember those extra chickens for warmth? Yeah, we got, um, an extra eleven. Eleven extra chickens! So there were sixteen cute, fuzzy, multicolored chirpers in the box. So cute, but now a bigger problem. See, thing is, Bloomington ordinance allows for four hens (i.e. females). We'd ordered five hens and now we have, what we are assuming (as sexing chicks - careful typing - is much harder than it would seem), are an extra eleven roosters. Oh dear.<br />
<br />
Oh yeah. And their food has not arrived yet.<br />
<br />
Thankfully the book on raising chickens arrived.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/eric_ellefson/6001110728/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="5987201595_80e6520dfe_b by Eric_Ellefson, on Flickr"><img alt="5987201595_80e6520dfe_b" height="332" src="http://farm7.static.flickr.com/6127/6001110728_67bc2047dd.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It's never too late to learn.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09862710049005047992noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1112002042919023105.post-83537278665481575662011-10-10T00:18:00.000-07:002011-10-10T00:29:22.767-07:00I AM AN ARTIST! I am?Spent two weeks in Juneau, right before returning to Bethel for district-wide inservices, in what I look back on as Artist Boot Camp. I had applied last spring for the Juneau Basic Arts Institute, as it's officially called. I mean - it would be covered by a grant, I will get college credit out of it, and I get to learn some things that may be useful in my classroom. Oh, and there would be four other teachers from my school attending. Sounded pretty alright to me.<br />
<br />
Then the syllabus came. <br />
<br />
And I started to get some doubts. Dancing. Ummm... One out of the four classes would be devoted entirely to dancing. Yeah. That's a lot to ask. Turns out, however, dancing can be fun. Prancing around the room - yep - pretty entertaining. Maybe on the simple fact that I'm only moving one-fourth of the time - the other three-fourths I'm watching my classmates.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/eric_ellefson/6229354929/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_1502 by Eric_Ellefson, on Flickr"><img alt="IMG_1502" height="375" src="http://farm7.static.flickr.com/6046/6229354929_eb1a7c4855.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Just doing a little igloo building. Seriously.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
In addition to dancing we did visual art, digital art, and cultural art. Teachers were all wonderful. Juneau was wonderful. I made some things that turned out pretty well. I learned some things that are proving to be quite useful. And I got to see Juneau.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/eric_ellefson/6229870508/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_1486 by Eric_Ellefson, on Flickr"><img alt="IMG_1486" height="375" src="http://farm7.static.flickr.com/6175/6229870508_64ea257f0b.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">That's all my art. Pretty. Great.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
Juneau is a beautiful city. Located in Southeast Alaska, it is a major stopping point for the Alaska cruise ships. As a result there are a number of things to do - restaurants, bars, shops, but the major attraction is the geography itself. Mountains, rivers, the ocean, spruce trees, and the Mendenhall Glacier. Fantastic. So we hiked, climbed some mountains, saw about a hundred million bald eagles, about two hundred million spawning (ie dying) salmon. Yeah. Juneau is great.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img alt="IMG_1428" height="375" src="http://farm7.static.flickr.com/6042/6229868440_e7b7be40bd.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="500" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Angie and Marcella after they ran a half marathon.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/eric_ellefson/6229358149/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_1651 by Eric_Ellefson, on Flickr"><img alt="IMG_1651" height="375" src="http://farm7.static.flickr.com/6059/6229358149_be38de9cc0.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hands down the best picture ever taken of me. Angie looks good, too. Email me - I'll send you a copy to post as your background. It's that good.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09862710049005047992noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1112002042919023105.post-6257255410699438722011-07-28T22:46:00.000-07:002012-03-03T17:01:56.848-08:00Seal Hunting! (Videos)Okay...so seal hunting happened months ago. But now that I'm back in Alaska the urge to blog has returned. The following two videos are phenomenal in their ability to show absolutely nothing about seal hunting. <br />
<br />
Pretty though.<br />
<iframe width="425" height="349" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/8v6D7Yt9NsQ" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe><br />
<br />
<iframe width="425" height="349" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/N1UINWjrSzg" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09862710049005047992noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1112002042919023105.post-59084049922807800562011-07-17T20:42:00.000-07:002012-03-03T17:02:13.260-08:00Summery things for summery timesAfter a two month hiatus from blogging (AKA summer) I'm back. Summer is full of things to do.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/eric_ellefson/5949253944/" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_1040 by Eric_Ellefson, on Flickr"><img alt="IMG_1040" height="150" src="http://farm7.static.flickr.com/6014/5949253944_fbc3489679.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bike 1.0</td></tr>
</tbody></table>School got out at the end of May. Spent a horribly boring week in Bethel afterwards mapping out high school math curriculum. Then flew home to Minnesota. Been living with a buddy and his girlfriend in south Bloomington. He doesn't have a car. I don't have a car. We are very likely have the lowest car to person ratio in the south metro. Our bike ratio, however is probably one of the higher (it's 2.67:1). Yeah, there are eight bikes in our garage.<br />
<br />
<br />
Rode the MS 150 in early June. Third year for that. <a href="http://main.nationalmssociety.org/site/TR/Bike/MNMBikeEvents?team_id=214640&pg=team&fr_id=15041">Team Night Bike</a> raised $2695 this year for the MS Society. Not bad. The weather was unbelievable. Thanks to everyone who contributed.<br />
<br />
Then Ohio for a few days then Kentucky for one (that state is terrible) where I visited the <a href="http://creationmuseum.org/?gclid=CI6D5OX5iaoCFYZrKgodYi8yzg">Creation Museum</a> (easily the dumbest place I've ever been).<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/eric_ellefson/5948702679/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="and hopefully you never will. by Eric_Ellefson, on Flickr"><img alt="and hopefully you never will." height="500" src="http://farm7.static.flickr.com/6030/5948702679_dcf56f0ae6.jpg" width="375" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="349" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/0NPeRfnQteI?rel=0" width="425"></iframe><br />
<br />
It's also been aggravatingly hot this summer. Today the dew point was 82. Heat index of 110. Stupid.<br />
<br />
So biking, a little cooking (new obsession - Indian food), happy hours, dinner parties, lakes, grocery stores, biking, oh, I got contacts but can't put them in very well yet, subbing at the Y, swimming, reading, hammocking, and constructing...a chicken coop. Lots more on the chickens to come.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/eric_ellefson/5949086892/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_1091 by Eric_Ellefson, on Flickr"><img alt="IMG_1091" height="500" src="http://farm7.static.flickr.com/6009/5949086892_2dc5a810e5.jpg" width="375" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">seriously, what is cuter than this?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09862710049005047992noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1112002042919023105.post-47345102754755432422011-04-11T19:25:00.000-07:002011-04-13T20:52:51.038-07:00Things are a little different hereThings just aren't what I expected. After living here for almost two years (I know - it's really not that long) there are weekly, if not daily, things that occur where I am caught off guard.<br />
<br />
Here's a recap of the last week and a half:<br />
<ul><li>Thursday, March 31 - The other high school teacher gives me a quick overview of her sub notes - just in case (just in case the sub doesn't show up...seriously, this happens more than it should and all of a sudden I am teaching two classes). Then she shows me Monday's plans in case she gets weathered in Bethel (she has a meeting at the district office - 125 miles west by air). <i>Whatever</i>, I think, <i>it's almost April...that weather is over.</i></li>
<li><i> </i>Friday, April 1 - The sub shows, everything goes fine</li>
<li>Saturday, April 2 - The snow starts. Winds pick up. Visibility goes down.</li>
<li>Sunday, April 3 - Same as Saturday. In like a lion, out like a lamb? I thought that was March.</li>
<li>Monday, April 4 - No planes since early Friday. Looks like those sub notes will be important. The sub works up through lunch when my fellow teacher finally gets in. Actually, she landed in Toksook, the village seven miles from us and was picked up on a snowmobile by her brother because our runway was still closed.</li>
<li>Tuesday, April 5 - State testing begins. Blizzard warnings begin (see previous post). Fantastic. Still haven't gotten any planes.</li>
<li>Wednesday, April 6 - Day 2 of testing. Blizzard begins in earnest. By noon visibility is about 100 yards. The truest whiteout I have ever seen. We end up dismissing early to waiting parents. All students are signed out to ensure their safe journey home with a responsible adult. Overkill? Nope - we ended up summoning search and rescue about four times to find lost people. All were found, however two were at the bottom of a cliff. Snowmobiles + blizzards + alcohol is a TERRIBLE idea. They both lived, miraculously, but the snowmobile is a wreck. More on this later...</li>
<li>Thursday, April 7 - Day 3 of testing. Weather okay in the morning, but predictions of 70mph winds prompts the second early release of the week. Students again are signed out as the winds begin to gust. Not sure we hit 70, but... 50mph is still pretty intense.</li>
<li>Friday, April 8 - "Eric, there's a plane on the river!" Unbelievably beautiful day. It's about 40 degrees and sunny, but our runway is still covered in snow and ice. The troopers sent out a plane with skis to med-evac the cliff faller. Not sure on the extent of the injuries, but to get a plane to fly out and land on a frozen river, they must be fairly severe.</li>
<li>Saturday and Sunday, April 9-10 - Weather blows. Literally. Constant wind. Snow falls at times. The drifts are impressive.</li>
<li>Monday, April 11 - It's cold outside (about 8 degrees with 25mph winds). It's also cold in the school. Apparently the fuel pumps for the school boilers were turned off over the weekend. Thermometer read 42 degrees in the high school when I arrived this morning. I taught four periods wearing my boots, my parka, a hat, and mittens. I tried to warm the room by playing that fireplace video from YouTube, but had little luck. We released after lunch.</li>
<li>Tuesday, April 12 - I can't wait to find out what tomorrow will bring.</li>
</ul>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09862710049005047992noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1112002042919023105.post-73465214294795130232011-04-06T09:26:00.000-07:002011-04-13T21:00:20.283-07:00So this is terrifying...You'd think that state testing happening all this week would be bad enough, but nope, how about a "Special Weather Statement" from the National Weather Service. I keep getting reminded that I live in Alaska. This is one of those times. Here is the warning:<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">SPECIAL WEATHER STATEMENT </span><br />
<div style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">NATIONAL WEATHER SERVICE ANCHORAGE AK</div><div style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><b class="fcstdate">230 PM AKDT TUE APR 5 2011</b></div><div style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><a class="zonename" href="http://www.blogger.com/post-edit.g?blogID=1112002042919023105&postID=7346521429479513023" name="AKZ155">AKZ155-161-062100- </a></div><div style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><b class="fcstwarn">...DANGEROUS ICE CONDITIONS EXPECTED TO DEVELOP ALONG THE ALASKA WEST COAST...</b></div><div style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><b class="fcstwarn">...POTENTIAL FOR COASTAL FLOODING ALONG THE SOUTHWEST COAST...</b> </div><div style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">A VERY STRONG LOW MOVING ACROSS THE BERING SEA THIS WEEK WILL RESULT IN DANGEROUS SEA ICE CONDITIONS ALONG THE WESTERN ALASKA COAST. </div><div style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">IN BRISTOL BAY STRONG ONSHORE WINDS STARTING WEDNESDAY NIGHT AND CONTINUING INTO FRIDAY MORNING WILL CAUSE ICE TO PUSH ONTO BEACHES FROM DILLINGHAM TO TOGIAK. BEACH EROSION CAN ALSO BE EXPECTED FROM NAKNEK TO TOGIAK BAY. </div><div style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">FROM CAPE NEWENHAM TO TOKSOOK BAY ICE SHOVES ARE LIKELY THURSDAY THROUGH SATURDAY. </div><div style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">MORE INFORMATION ON EXPECTED ICE CONDITIONS FOR AREAS NORTH OF THE KUSKOKWIM DELTA ALONG WITH DETAILED GRAPHICS ARE AVAILABLE AT HTTP://PAFC.ARH.NOAA.GOV/ICEGRAPHICS.PHP.</div><div style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">IN ADDITION TO DANGEROUS ICE CONDITIONS THERE IS ALSO POTENTIAL FOR MINOR COASTAL FLOODING ALONG THE SOUTHWEST ALASKA COAST THURSDAY THROUGH FRIDAY. A LONG FETCH OF WESTERLY STORM TO HURRICANE FORCE WINDS WILL BUILD SEAS UP TO AROUND 35 FEET OVER THE SOUTHERN BERING SEA BY THURSDAY MORNING. STRONG WINDS WILL THEN MOVE THESE VERY HIGH WAVES TOWARD THE SOUTHWEST ALASKA COAST THURSDAY AFTERNOON INTO FRIDAY. THE PRESENCE OF SEA ICE DOES HELP TO DAMPEN THESE WAVES. HOWEVER...THERE IS STILL A THREAT FOR STORM SURGE DURING HIGH TIDES TO PRODUCE MINOR COASTAL FLOODING. </div><div style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">THIS SITUATION CONTINUES TO BE MONITORED CLOSELY.</div><div style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">THE NEXT STATEMENT IS SCHEDULED AT 1 PM WEDNESDAY.</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09862710049005047992noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1112002042919023105.post-10399771970929027722011-03-25T23:18:00.000-07:002011-04-13T21:42:03.742-07:00Seal! (My adventure hunting for seals)What? Where?<br />
<br />
Of course at this point in time I was taking photographs of myself. I would like to reiterate that I am one of the worst hunters in the world. And in this situation it wasn't a terrible thing. I mean, I not legally allowed to hunt seals. Of course nothing is illegal about being out on the ice in close proximity to seal hunters. And so that's what Robby and I were doing.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/eric_ellefson/5560549030/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_0990 by Eric_Ellefson, on Flickr"><img alt="IMG_0990" height="300" src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5263/5560549030_b57bbb0275.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Out along the point past the break up</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Seal hunting is actually a lot more boring than it sounds. Unless you already know that hunting is boring. Then it's probably a little more exciting than other hunting. It begins with a snowmachine ride to the end of the ice. This is terrifying. The Bering Sea in March is very cold. And the ice shows signs of cracking off from the rest of the ice, and at times I was certain that I would be the sole inhabitant of the world's newest iceberg. Fortunately that did not happen.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/eric_ellefson/5559969481/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_0989 by Eric_Ellefson, on Flickr"><img alt="IMG_0989" height="300" src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5187/5559969481_886d09804b.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">That jagged white edge is about a mile out from shore - it was along this we traveled.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Once you make it to the edge you look into the water. I was supposed to be looking for the shiny head of a seal that has come up for air. Cruel - sure. Wait for the poor puppy-faced creature to come up for a breath of fresh, clean, Alaska air then BANG! Dead seal. So I wasn't the most observant watch for more than one reason. It's okay though, George has more sea spotting eyes than both Robby and myself combined and he spotted the first seal. This was the time that I was a few hundred feet up the hill taking photographs of myself. Meh. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/eric_ellefson/5559977361/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_0995 by Eric_Ellefson, on Flickr"><img alt="IMG_0995" height="400" src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5173/5559977361_025476c6c4.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nope...no seals.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>We watched for a while longer but see nothing. George leaves Robby and me and heads down along the break. Minutes later we see him crouched, rifle leveled. <i>Does he see something?</i> BANG! Then I see it - the back of a seal surface then dive. "TOO HIGH" I hear George yell. Oh. Too bad I guess. I can't really figure out if I want to see George get a seal or if I want the seal to get away. Doesn't really matter though, escape the seal did. Good for him (or her - I have no idea).<br />
<br />
After getting bored of hunting I decided that a photoshoot was in order. I still have a hard time taking hunting serious. Oh well - my talents lie elsewhere. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/eric_ellefson/5560572044/" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_1010 by Eric_Ellefson, on Flickr"><img alt="IMG_1010" height="240" src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5291/5560572044_55de019da9.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Friday in Tununak.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/eric_ellefson/5559992169/" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_1009 by Eric_Ellefson, on Flickr"><img alt="IMG_1009" height="240" src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5024/5559992169_04c0074085.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">What else do you think I would be doing?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09862710049005047992noreply@blogger.com0