A follow up from before

I wrote a while back about the baby seal that was rescued (?) from its dead mother.  Anyway, here is a little blurb from Alaska magazine.

To be a hunter takes a lot

As many of you know, I have become a hunter. Well, at least up until the very last aspect of a hunter. I have all the required things a hunter needs: a gun, a camouflage jacket, a hunting accent. I even have a great hunting pose and a pretty good hunting creep. Yeah, totally a hunter. I’ve got everything – except a kill. This is the story of my attempt at a first kill and thus my induction into the world of hunting. 

The rain eased up enough today to allow Robbie and myself to get outside in search of some ducks or swans or geese or anything else that my license covers (read: snowy owls – no joke, also no limit). Robbie is the husband of one of our new teachers, hailing from Idaho, and has slightly more hunting experience that me. We were ready to get some dinner. Wandering through the tundra brought back memories of last year walking to Toksook. Ben in that deceivingly deep puddle…good times. Karma to follow, however when I, while watching an airplane, took a step backwards into a knee-deep hole.

I was excited to try out my new image. Robbie was trying out a new image of his own. Being in the Wild West, Robbie was packing some serious heat – a .44 mag pistol strapped to his hip. John Wayne – yep, that’s Robbie. Umm…a 6-5 red haired version. Turns out, neither of us lived up to our attempted images.

Sometimes I wonder why I am such an unsuccessful sportsman. Reflecting on these thoughts always bring me to the same answer. I have yet to go fishing, and now hunting, without any irony. Always it follows along, scaring away any potential prey, obviously. Perhaps it’s a safety net for my inevitable failure, or perhaps it’s my response to the cognitive dissonance I feel with a gun of my own cradled in my arms. Who knows.

I’m learning a lot of things about the great outdoors. Each trip teaches me important lessons. For example, safety glasses are awesome. But a more recurring lesson that I’m slowly coming to understand is that I am the worst sportsman in the world. I’ve been fishing about six times since getting back here in early August. I have caught nothing – except my leg. And that while trying to prod George with the end of my rod. The latest reminder came today, while hunting. I took one shot with the shotgun. I hit nothing - except my face. Seriously. Some freak ricochet sent a shotgun pellet back at me and struck me directly in the right lens of my glasses.

And so now I sit, waiting for my hamburger buns to rise – or I should put more accurately, my black bean burger buns to rise because that is what I am having for dinner. My induction has been put on hold – in all liklehood indefinitely. It’s okay. I’ve come to a realization. I’m not a hunter. I never will be. I may kill some animals. But I’m not a hunter. I also am not a fisherman. I may catch some fish, but that won’t make me a fisherman. Guns, rods, reels, cammo, accents. These are just things sportsmen have. And me I guess, I also have those things. The big difference between those people and me, however, goes beyond an image. I don’t want to be a hunter of a fisherman. My constant irony and sarcasm are proof enough. The real reason those are there is because I’d rather be doing other things. To a true hunter or fisherman this, of course, is never true.

I have friends who give me a hard time for my less typical Alaskan subsistence activities. Things like breadmaking and a hydroponics garden in my living room, not to mention my vermicompost and semi-vegetarian diet. Weird maybe. Unusual sure. But if I had to survive on my sportsmen’s skills alone I’d be dead or at the very least very hungry. And so I’m okay with my way of life.

Tununak Round Two

Am I excited to going back to Tununak?

While I wasn’t looking forward to leaving Minneapolis on Sunday, the oppressively awful temperatures made things a little easier. I don’t believe it is possible for humans to survive in weather like Minnesota has been having. Mid-nineties, dew points over seventy…miserable. Sixty in Bethel will be a welcome relief.

I am in the process of traveling, process being the key word. Yesterday was the day for bulk mailing, listening to the postal clerk telling me eleven days all the while knowing that twenty is a much better estimate. And my bike. My bike is in the mail. Right now, somewhere, my bike is being handled by the United States Post Office. This should offer me three to four weeks of stress. And now I am in between two of the three flights necessary to arrive in Bethel where I stay for a few days for district-wide inservice then one final flight to the village. Days are needed to get to my final destination.

Going back for the second year will be nice though. Teaching many of the same classes as last year, I am anticipating less time spent planning. Of course that will probably prove to me wishful thinking, I have made a number of interesting investments over the summer to fill the empty (here’s to hoping) time in my upcoming year.

As I noted before, my bike is coming along this year. Jokingly I had told people I plan on just wanting to look at it. This probably has more truth to it than I want to admit. And coupled with the fact that there aren’t any paved roads it is a little hard to deny. But if all things work out I will be getting a stationary stand for it for endless hours of going nowhere in the gym.

My other two investments deal with food. My forages into eating more vegetables and less meat has initiated a number of impulse hydroponics system buys. The first was a system I purchase from our outgoing principal at the very end of last year. The second system I purchased just earlier this week. Fresh salad in December, tomatoes in February. Maybe.

The second food investment is a shotgun. Ignoring the above goal of reducing my meat consumption, I have borrowed a twelve gauge shotgun (don’t call it a rifle) from my grandpa. After an interesting conversation with the salesman at Gander Mountain about shells (don’t call them “bullets” or “things to shoot out of my gun”) I believe I have everything I need to take down some ducks. I acquired both the hydroponics system and the shotgun last week. It is impossible to describe how different they feel in my hands, yet both will be used for the same purpose: to provide me with fresh food.

Those things should keep me somewhat busy. And of course there is teaching. Second years aren't known for being unbelievably easier than first years. So that's it - year two is all planned out. We'll see how that goes.

This is what summer was made for.

I am loving summer.  This is my first summer since the summer after ninth grade where I haven't had a job.  I mean sure, I've been putting in random hours at the Y, but you can't really call bowling with first graders work.  Ahh the benefits of teaching.  So what have I been doing?

Well I arrived home in Minneapolis in late May.  I spent the next couple weeks on a spending binge - food, drinks, things, groceries.  Not sure what all I bought, but it had been months since the simple pleasure of immediate gratification could be fulfilled in the shopping world.  The instant return on my wants was, well, intoxicating.  Following that bender, I set off on another binge of sorts - biking.

I missed biking.  A lot.  And so I went on some bike rides.  I spent a weekend riding from Duluth to Minneapolis with the fund raising event known as the MS 150 (a charity ride for the muscular sclerosis society).  This was my second year completing the ride and, as before, it was nice.  Our team raised over $2300 (thanks to all who donated by the way) and rode about 100 out of the 150 miles in a light
drizzle.

Using the MS 150 as a warm up, I left a week later on the Amtrak with two friends, Aaron and Adam, headed for Portland.  Our bikes safely boxed were stowed aboard ready to carry us south down the Pacific Coast.  Unbelievable weather (a total of zero days of any form of precipitation and a considerable tailwind) followed our trek to San Francisco, approximately 850 miles up, down, and around the coastal mountains.  Elaborations on this ride will follow in future posts, for at the moment I am letting the experience ferment a while longer before getting into it.  Needless to say, bicycle touring is one of the most incredible ways to travel.  For anyone interested, Aaron, one of my riding partners has a nice little blog where you can read and see some nice bits of media from the ride here:  The Western Expanse.

Now I am down to about three and a half weeks left in Minnesota before I return to Alaska.  I have many things I still want to get done, but am actively looking for more things to add to that list.  If you have any ideas, want to hang out, or whatever, get ahold of me.  I am in.

Twenty-four hours, four planes, and two seasons later

I left Tununak yesterday with Ben and Sara about twenty-four hours ago. The temperature was near freezing, the clouds were about 300 feet off the ground and intermittent fog reduced visibility to under a mile at times. All three airlines were on weather hold. After two hours of stressing out, communications with the airline hinted that a plane would indeed be landing. We loaded up the trailer and instructed Brett to avoid the puddles. He failed. Not that anyone could have done any better. The house-high drifts recently had a path plowed through them resulting in a knee-deep puddle that
stretches from the BIA, through the village, almost all the way to the airport. Pretty great. Our flight was uneventful, and we caught our next flight to Anchorage without problems. After a quick meal at the Anchorage airport I said goodbye to Ben and Sara and rushed off to my gate. Ten minutes to spare - no big deal. Yeah, last to board is pretty awesome. Then Denver, now Minneapolis.


And now summer. Serious summer. The sweatshirt, coat, hat, gloves, and boots I wore out of Tununak were no longer needed. In fact, I'm pretty sure clothes in general are not needed. The thermometer states 100 degrees right now. I can't quite handle it. I am melting.

Took a journey down to the garden (about a mile downhill) on my bicycle. So good. Strawberries are raging. Tomatoes are trying to sort out the seasons, which is nice to see that I'm not the only one. Peppers are loving it. A few rogue bean stalks are erupting from the earth. Tomorrow the work begins. Trellises need to get back in, fence needs to be creature proofed, and obviously, the plants and seeds need to get in the ground. Exciting. Maybe it'll be 70 tomorrow. Probably not. Better get sunscreen.

Left the garden and thought I'd take the long way home. Here I realized some things.  Biking downhill with the wind is way easier than biking uphill into the wind after nine months of not biking. I seem to have misplaced my legs and lungs. Of course the heat didn't help. I have a bit of work to do to get back in bike shape. The five miles I rode today were annoyingly hard. Good thing I have the summer off to get some things done. Teaching is awesome.

Chickens, dogs, and wind

Necessary background information needed for this story:

• My principal has eight sled dogs
• He also has chickens
• He also has rabbits

The other weekend our principal was out of town and needed help tending his creatures.  Fellow teacher, Ben, had been enlisted to help, and I offered to help Ben a few times.  Most of my help consisted of staring at chickens and taking pictures for this here blog.  Yeah, I am helpful.

After attending to the animals we took a jaunt up the hill.  We were escorted by one of our students.  I believe she enjoyed going down the hill a bit more that going up.

But pictures will speak louder than words, so here they are.  Enjoy.

Class of 2010!

I am proud to announce that this past Friday we graduated our four seniors from Tununak High School.  Congratulations Paul, Harry, Virginia, and Carl!