Well here it is 10pm and Luanna's boyfriend Chad is running around in the woods behind our house chasing a moose. This moose to be exact with a bow and arrow. Now the work begins...they drove a forklift from a work site to the house and lifted it onto a trailer, took it to the Cameran Shop and are going to hang it from another forklift and gut it over the burn pile...then the cutting and slicing, cleaning, wrapping and labeling begins. Have fun Lu and Chad!!! Good night all!!!

A Pilot's Tribute

It's been a long day.

It's been a long summer.

2 summers ago, I would have summed it up as the monsoon summer of Margaret and Zach's wedding when there were way to many bear attacks.

This summer I would sum it up as the monsoon summer of plane crashes. The crazy part is, it's not due to weather or newbie mistakes. They have been old seasoned pilots who are some of the highly respected infrastructure of our greater community here in Alaska, the last great frontier. They are the pioneers of invention and tenacious ingenuity.

The monsoon part is easy to explain. We are setting records as one of the top 6 (and moving up rapidly) rainiest summers ever recorded in the short history of Alaska. The plane crashes have been chilling as one tragedy after another rock the pilot community and families here. When I first arrived in June, it was on the cusp of the first chilling accident. One of our neighbors on Lake Clark was hauling out materials from Merill Field with his family and a babysitter when he crashed into a neighborhood at the end of the strip. The plane burst into flames and valiant bystanders braved the flames to rescue all but one of the passengers. ALL involved were severely burned and most still reside in burn units from here to Oregon. They lost their 4 year old son. Horrible!

We've lost pilots before, plane crashes are not uncommon. My dad has made many rescues and pulled parts out or flown pilots and spare parts out to remote crash sites recovering wreckage or limping a plane back home to be repaired. He has one friend who has lived through more than 10 crashes and even one in the middle of a lake where he broke his back and some guy in a fishing boat happened to be there and pulled him out to safety.

I myself have witnessed a crazy lodge owner that wanted to beat other lodges to a hot fishing hole, leave too early in the morning and flip his plane right in front of our lodge while we were serving breakfast. Thanks to our guides who heard the chilling fla-whomp! and quickly drove in skiffs to rescue the passengers, everyone was okay and they had a new Beaver on floats the next day and the race was on again.

Most unfortunate was a dear friend and pillar in our community, while ferrying his family back from a fishing hole, was on his way back to get the last load and never made it. They attributed it to water in the gas tank but it really rocked our community. We are thankful that he was alone. Here is a picture of his family.

All of these memories and realities flood back when you hear of a plane going down. The closer to home it gets the more sobering the thoughts are. I remember noticing the very first sound of a plane flying over 5 days after September 11th. It was eery as if a ghost was pining for life or soloist was afraid to break the silence but wanted it's presence known. It was the first time I had realized how much air noise really tells me a lot about whats going on around me. This summer has been wet, wet, wet! The skys have been pretty quiet for the most part. I don't have to look up from my work to know that the ceiling has lifted 1000ft and we will have a rain break because the sound of a plane reassures me of it. The few times rays have escaped from the clouds, the sky just buzzes with the sound of pilots itching to get some air under their wings. This is the land of bush pilots. So many people depend on these metal soaring contraptions to bring them food and supplies.

These have been some of my thoughts as I drove to Anchorage to drop off materials for some remote village, sat at a mountain pass alone in the quiet, hiked the experimental farm as planes danced above me.

4 days before the big Elmendorf Air Show a C-17 crashed on the tarmac while practicing. 4 died, 3 of them were my age. The show went on but the air was a solemn celebration.

There was a plane of tourists that crashed on a glacier and got stuck without any supplies or gear for three days before the weather let up enough to drop supplies. A helicopter that tried to land ended up rolling leaving the count to 9 stranded cold and hungery people.

At the same time an Otter on floats, carrying our own Ted Stevens and Retired head of NASA and two teenagers and their parents, a retired Alaska Airlines Pilot,and two others, were headed out to a lodge for a fishing trip. In the fog, they hit the side of the mountain, from the pictures it looks as though the pilot tried to climb straight up to lessen the impact, that and the floats managed to limit the death toll to 5. 4 survived but were trapped in their seats till rescuers arrived later the next day. They were busy attempting to rescue the glacier group and pulled out and relocated to this crash site. Our state was in shock. Ted's first wife had been killed many years ago in a separate plane crash (in which he survived) at Ted Stevens International Airport. Worst part was, the pilot in this crash lost his son-in-law in the C-17 crash. Do the math for his daughter. She lost her dad and husband within two weeks of each other.

Reeling from this news, we heard that a C-123 had lost an engine and crashed. It was John Eshilmans...my mind went Eshelman, Eshelman, ESHELMAN!!!

I haven't seen Casey or Kristen since high school. We called Casey "Keebler" and his dad was just that, "dad." He pulled me out of a ditch once when I missed a hairpin turn before the airport on the way to a cross country ski team party at the Eshelmans. He was also owner of Steppers Construction so often he would swap favors with my dad's business.

He was working on a beautiful C-123 he had brought up to Wasilla from Florida in the hopes to use it to deliver supplies to those in need across Alaska. It wasn't quite ready to fly...so close! He had just talked to dad about flying a forklift and building supplies out to Lake Clark for our cabin and dad had just delivered Metal Roofing for John's new add-on. It was just weird. He was so busy doing so many good things. He was planning a trip to Israel, He was in the middle of moving a Firefighter Memorial to a more accessible and visible location. The list goes on.

Today, we went to his Memorial. We parked and walked with the masses along the taxi way only to be met by a pilots tribute as 10 beautiful planes and one helicopter flew one by one down the air strip. They came back and landed and we all cheered as they joined us. There was over 1000 people there, the Anchorage Fire dept and Wasilla Fire Departments showed as well as many pilot families and construction folk. Many Colony High alumni and faculty. He touched many communities. His brother choked through his Eulogy. It was very touching, and I learned who this person, Casey's Dad was. There were quite a few stories and from different parts of his life, an over view, an early view, and his last days view. I really liked this guy and felt the void he left behind. Crazy part is, he left but every thing he had his hand in kept going without him there. He was an amazing orchestrator, that's for sure! Two guys in parachutes landed during the stories and poems. And at the end, this man who was born on Elmendorf Air force Base and lived a die hard patriot and his hand shake was his word, was given a solute, the Steppers solution way. His son's Casey, Connor and (one more I don't know) Shot off 7 blanks while his brother Bob called them off.

I got to give Casey a big hug at the end. I'd like to actually get the time to catch up with him. Earlier this summer I drove by their place promising myself I'd go say hi later and now I wish I had taken the time to stop in.

Farewell John, you were a great guy and you will be sorely missed.

Busy Living Life

Well, I was mentioning how I was behind in my blogging AGAIN and my mom said, "Jen, you are just too busy living life." I know, and I'm loving it, but I do love to write and I do love to relive my adventures on a page of...screen? Anyway...

Last weekend was again pretty darn fun...in spite of the rain...I know I keep talking about weekends as if I don't work and have plenty of hair raising stories from that. I do actually and will comment when I have pictures to post with. Unfortunately, Kara and I both forgot our cameras this weekend, even though we were only 10 minuets from home...Again, I am ahead of myself.

Monday:
Wilson's are planing to go to Valdez. I am planning to go to Chena Hot Springs.

Tuesday:
Morris's and Wilson's decide to go to Kennicott Mine, I waffle on my plans and mom starts looking for a motorhome.

Wednesday:
We are all cool with going to McCarthy and Kennicott for the weekend.

Thursday:
Mom and Dad find a Motor home.

Friday:
10am Mom and Dad buy said Motor home. Kara calls and changes her Valdez reservation to Sunday night. I call to reserve a camp site
BRIDGE IS OUT ONLY SMALL CARS ONE DRIVER EVERYONE MUST CARRY THEIR GEAR

11am Kara and I start looking for plan "B." Mom and I go pick up RV and she heads to DMV. Office is going up in smoke, fires in Dillingham, Delta, Horse Arena, Middleton Island etc.

12pm Byers Lake (opposite direction of Valdez) Horse Arena Fire OUT

1pm I head to Anchorage. Still no decision. Delta Fire OUT

3pm I head back to Wasilla. Dad says lets do Lake Louise. Dillingham Fire Semi under control

5pm Still no decision.

6pm Kara and I look at each other with pitiful "I really want to go camping" eyes and I throw out Finger lake, she looks at the clock, "now?" "sure, it's ten minutes from home, if we need anything we can run back." Mom says maybe they will join with the new motor home later.

8pm We drive out of the driveway to go grocery shopping.

9pm We set up camp, and start a fire.

10pm All fires are out in the office and mom and dad come over for s'mores in the Mini Cooper instead!!

This is a typical weekend in the Morris house hold. Kara and I never left the camp ground. We ate steak bites and hot dogs and cold cereal the ENTIRE weekend. I kept the fire going and it POURED on us both nights. We woke up to the sound of Buddy lapping up puddles of water inside the tent...tons of it too! Saturday warmed up enough to tempt the kids to go swimming, even though their lips turned blue. Mom and dad brought dessert both nights and then Sunday Wilsons left me by the campfire for Valdez. I made myself some hot tea and knitted till mom joined me, then we broke camp and picked every last current on the property before heading home...

It was a WONDERFUL weekend. No Pictures, sorry :(

Current Sorbet anyone??

Leaving Society Behind

When dad picked me up he said, "You're out of practice."

Let me back up. It had been a long work week, actually short because Monday was a holiday and we had just got back from Clam Gultch. But by Friday, everyone was talking about going BACK to Clam Gultch for the weekend. I was not thrilled. I drive a lot already and as I previously mentioned, we drove a lot over 4th of July weekend, and here it is 4 days later and they want to turn around and do it all over again.

That's when dad asked me if I wanted him to drop me off in "The Pass." Now dad has been forever telling me of a little place of mystery and history called "The Pass" or at least that's how he has always referred to it. Up till now, I only knew that it was up high and really cool. I learned more along the way like Doc Cunningham put in the airstrip, and used to have a spot with wooden platforms for tents but the Forrest Service burnt them down since they didn't look natural. I also learned that a drop of rain could basically fall and have two choices, roll one way down the Chickaloon Pass or the other way down the Talkeetna Pass. I was at the head waters of two main rivers. Dad flew me around and oriented me to the area, set down and I unloaded my gear...then I watched him fly away.

Now don't think he left me ALL alone, Buddy was with me and I had a radio that on 121.5 could talk to the jets flying over, just in case...and Rusty's .45 of course. But I was up at 5,000ft and rarely did planes fly OVER this pass and the bears were at least two valley's down. It was just me and the sunshine and the breath of freedom. Freedom from societal norms. Freedom from convinces. Freedom from technology!! No Service!! I literally cast off my cares (and clothes) and went climbing. Buddy lost about three years off his life and turned into a happy puppy!! He wouldn't stop playing fetch and pranced every where he went. Everything was new and exciting!

Setting up camp was quick and easy. Everyone except the neighboring squirrel was happy with the site. He didn't stop chattering at me till I broke camp and went home! I was shocked and sad to find that my air-mattress wasn't holding air. I stole some duct tape off the scope box to stop up the biggest hole and ended up having to blow it up again every 3 hours. It started to rain a couple hours into my stay so into my tent I went. It was so nice to just snuggle into my fleece and down bag and listen to the rain. I read a book, started knitting a pair of gloves and slept, and slept and slept. All the sudden I realized it was Sunday and I hadn't gotten out of the tent in almost 24 hours!! It was the sudden growling from my stomach that brought me out of my slumber and back into my senses. I hadn't eaten since I left home. Oh! and did I mention it was cold? I was on the verge of freezing but had lots more clothes I could have put on. Little did I know it was snowing just above me!! I could see glimpses of it through the cloud bank that had obscured the pass the next morning.

Hungry! Right! So I opened the tent and in the vestibule set up the stove...(first mistake). I had bungeed the vestibule to some rocks and everything was wet wet wet! Since it was still drizzling, I decided to cook from inside the tent and use dad's stove...(second mistake). It took me a bit to figure it out get it set up and lit...so by the time the thing roared to life, I wasn't ready for the blaze it put out waiting to catch the burner or the back draft that was bringing the blaze into my tent. I was frozen in fear and stuck without a way out of my tent and no way to reach the zipper to the vestibule. Then the surge of panic and adrenalin hit me...I was flailing and and throwing and thanking God that everything was soaking wet! Somehow, the rocks with the fly still bungeed to them ended up on the other side of the tent, the stove on its side a few yards away still blazing in the rain and me breathing heavy thinking, "Did I just get away easy??" That's when the burner caught and I started laughing hysterically. I decided to cook the rest of my meal a couple feet from the tent and heck with the drizzle, it was now my new best friend.

Fed and ready to explore, Buddy and I "packed up" and took off on our adventure. I decided to follow the Talkeetna River up to it's source since I wasn't too excited about getting wet in a river crossing. I put on my new Keens and carharts and threw on my backpack and headed out. The clouds moved by quickly and gave us peeks of the peaks around us. Once in a while we even got a ray or two of sunshine! We had a great hike along river beds, across high tundra, over bolder piles left by meandering glaciers. Past lakes and caribou tracks and poop. We hiked all the way up to the glacier (Piedmont, since it ends on land.) Then I realized I hadn't brought any food, or the gun, and somehow, somewhere, I had lost the antenna to the radio. It was time to turn around and head back to the tent. We photographed rocks and mud, water and foliage, bacteria and lichen. Marmots wistled at us and birds chased us away from their nests. We even got the ground squirrel talking about our intrusion. Not once did we see a sheep or a caribou. Back at camp I realized we had been out for over 8 hours and so I cooked up some dinner, cleaned up and it started to rain again. Snuggling back down I decided if dad didn't come pick me up in the morning, I would try crossing the river to check out the huge gorge and cliff at the mouth of the Chickaloon Pass.

I woke up to sunshine streaming into my tent! It was practically a sauna!! I was excited to go exploring again so I got dressed, repacked with necessities I had forgot the day before put in first and started making breakfast. I figured if dad wasn't there by the time I was done I was heading out. Fed and cleaned up I heard a sound I hadn't heard in 3 days...the sound of an airplane coming through the pass. My heart dropped as it circled my camp and landed. It was such a beautiful day, I wanted to push dad to go hiking with me but I knew that we had a lot of catching up to do back home. Buddy ran up to the plane and to my great surprise was ready to jump in and GO!! (He hates traveling) We broke camp, much to my neighbor's delight and flew home trading stories all the way. We checked out a hanging glacier and a nursery of baby goats and a Golden Eagle!! I had such a grand time, I can't wait to do it again!!

I was unprepared for all the astonishment at my adventure. Since then I have been questioned by many Alaskans as well as others why I went on this solo trip and wasn't I scared. I think it is sad that people are so afraid of and detached from God's green earth, his creatures and his people. I loved being in a place so quiet I could hear my heart beat and my soul think. The usual fast stimulus of life sated so my eyes and feet could discover many miniature miracles and anchient earth artifacts. I was so full and rested when I got back, I wish this place of being on everyone, no matter how you get there. No, I was not scared I had my common sense and lots of comfy accommodations as well as my Buddy to keep me company.

I'm just out of practice...