Mush!

So this is what it looks like to be in the cargo area of a dog sled : 

Simply put, when the dogs are fresh, frisky and wanting to show off for you there is nothing on this Earth - I mean nothing - that accelerates with as much G-force as that dog sled. It'll snap your neck, man. You go from 0 - 20 in about 0.2 seconds.

We also learned these dogs are unique in mushing world, in they do not fear to blaze their own trail. According to our musher, the dogs that run the Iditarod WILL NOT leave the trail. You cannot force them off it. These dogs, on the other hand, are more than ready, willing and able to leave the beaten path and merrily drag you across God's creation on command.

There is nothing they love more than being commanded to do exactly that.

Lacking any other practical means, one literally has to throw the anchor overboard to bring these eager canines to a permanent halt. When they want to run, they want to run and brook little interference from you on the subject. While their stamina may be long, their patience is short in equal measure. They will accept brief respites to rest, but their collective minds are of but one thought : run.

When choosing which 10 will be the lucky few to go running, every dog puts on his or her best show and pleads to be let loose. Pick me! I can run! Let me show you how I can run, Master! I will run like the wind today, and twice as fast tomorrow! Oh, the cacophony.

Once harnessed, you discover the enthusiasm was not a charade. If the musher does not set anchor he will soon be short one sled, and one team. Muscles tense. Sinews tighten. Anticipation builds until... until... RAPTURE! Master wants us to run!

10 hearts... 10 minds... but one thought... RUN!

Calling It

No, there are no pictures of the dog-sled ride posted yet. No, we can't post any.

The great ride through the tundra was called on account of... rain. It was almost 40 degrees for a high temperature here in Dillingham today. I see that presently the temp is 10 degrees in Muscatine.

Not that I would rub it in or anything. Nope. Uh uh. Not me. No sirree, Bob! Negatory. Nein.

So the great ride has tentatively been rescheduled to Monday. That is :

IF the temperature takes a nose-dive, and

IF we get more snow, and

IF the rain stops melting the snow we have.

Now I know how disappointing it must be to play for the Chicago Cubs. ;-)

Mush!

Well, I done gone and did it.

This is either going to be one of my better ideas, or a frostbitten lousy one. For the Queen's Christmas present I bought her a two-hour dog sled ride.

Two Hours.

In the frozen Alaska tundra.

In the middle of Winter.

Where even if the wind isn't blowing the phrase "wind chill" is still going to be in play.

That if we don't watch what we are doing, we are going to freeze our assets off.

Pulled by hyperactive canines that have running as their idea of a good time.

In my defense, it sounded like a really, really good idea while sipping hot chocolate in a 70 degree (with wind chill) apartment. Now? Not so much.

We have been warned that if we dress warmly enough, we will have a blast. If we don't we are going to be miserable. Ok, fair enough. I already have boots and a winter coat that are both rated to -40 F., so I think I am good to go. Donna also has a coat and boots rated to -40 F., so she should be set.

The plan is to take along two smartphones with video capability so we should have some awesome pictures and video that will let you know what it's like to drag your carcass across the frozen wastes of Alaska at up to 20 MPH. We will suffer, so you don't have to.

Lord, Toto... we're not in Kansas anymore. ;-)

Tote that Bale

All I can say is I am glad the queen is finally happy. She had been stalking her prey for a while, and the USPS finally delivered up the carcasses.

I speak, of course, about Fiesta Dinnerware.

The queen ordered said carcasses during the Great Hunt of 2012 detailed in an earlier posting. The USPS notified us we had a package and take a great big, wild guess who had to schlep said dead weight back to the Huntress' lair?

Me? I would have been happy with paper plates. Oh, no! If we are to establish a proper lair it will have proper dishes, lest the Huntress be thought a slovenly housekeeper. Can't have that sort of talk running around loose, now can we?

So I schlepped the lead weights dishes back from the post office. All 2,000 50 pounds worth. For four blocks. In a blinding snowstorm. Uphill, both ways!

Well, it felt like it. :-)

Run for Your Life!

I had my first run in with a wild animal on the way into work today. You know what? They really are more scared of you than you are of them. No, sadly, it wasn't a bear. It was a fox.

Well, I rounded the corner heading to work and there he was. He was intent on scrounging up a meal, and didn't seem the least bit interested in me... until I was inside his comfort "bubble". Now keep in mind this was still in the dark. He was vaguely aware of my presence until it got through to the hinterlands of his tiny little brain there was a dark, hulking mountain about to get very close to his person. So Mr. Wily Fox did what came natural.

He froze.

All animals become invisible when they freeze in place, of course. Except, I think, those who happen to be in the visual crosshairs of a human, who happens to be wearing an LED light which is now lighting Mr. Fox up like the 4th of July. Still, can't have him lurking about scaring women and children so I stomped my foot snarled at him in a most convincing fashion.

It was at this point Mr. Fox decided his invisibility cloak must have failed, because he went from a dead stop to about 60 MPH in .0001 seconds in any direction that wasn't towards me. It was like he decided to circumnavigate around me by deciding at any given moment what the odds were of dying if he continued into the darkness. So he would oscillate between heading starkly away from me, and kinda-sorta back in my general direction. The net result being, of course, a rambling circle around me and back to the ebon darkness from which he came.

He was a beautiful reddish-brown, but smaller than I would have believed a fox would be. Perhaps he was a young pup. I would say now, however, he is a born-again believer in glowing, snarling monsters that go stomp in the night.

Dillingham Crud

Yet another, yet another proverbial land mine stepped on. File this in the "Oh, by the Way" file, in the "Things to Look Out For" Department.

The locals call it "The Dillingham Crud".

Back in Iowa it would be called "a raging case of the flu". I fell ill on Saturday and just re-joined the living today. And that was only because for the past two days I steeped myself in baths as hot as I could stand them for at least a hour at a shot.

It hits you hard, fast and takes no prisoners. You can look forward to long days and nights of hacking up pounds of phlegm and small chunks of lung. I actually think drowning would have been a pleasurable change in breathing.

The thing that shocked the locals, and I kid you not, was that it took so long for me to come down with it. But I hear what you are thinking : What about Donna?

Shaddup.

That really pissed me off. Not so much as a sniffle for her. I get sucker-punched to death's door, knocking with both hands, and she tells me she has a minor sore throat. What. The. Hell? It's too bad my fever broke before she told me that, or I would go way, way, waaaaaaay the hell out of my way to breathe, sneeze or slobber all over her.

Would have served her right. ;-)

Photo-Pa-Looza III

We had some very kind, generous teachers loaned us their vehicle for a few weeks until we move into town. That enabled us to do a little more exploring, covering more ground than we could on foot. So we took advantage of the opportunity to go down and finally see Bristol Bay proper. 

The pictures can hardly capture the true beauty of it. Strangely, the water looks almost exactly like the Mississippi, just more of it. Well, I guess that would back up my theory that I always lived in Alaska, I just didn't know it. Maybe I should start referring to Iowa as the Alaska suburbs. :-)

These are pieces of art done by the Elementary children of Dillingham. They are hanging in the entryway to the Elementary school building. They were done under the guidance of an artist, but my understanding is the kids did all the heavy lifting themselves. I have been to the Art Institute of Chicago's museum, and I have to tell you: I saw a lot worse there. I was just floored when they told me the kids did these pieces.

One of the many fishing vessels you will see out on the bay on any given day.

We got buzzed by both, man and nature. Both equally curious. 

Views of the local fish cannery

This is our new chariot, which got us to the bay. It is a 1987 Mitsubishi Mighty Max pickup. It can go from 0 - 60... eventually. Actually, it's a darn sturdy little beast. What with all the dings, dents, and rust it has a fine coat of urban camouflage that fits right in Dillingham. Maybe it's just us, but we seemed to have picked up the locals are not trusting you if you have a new car, or one without... ummmm... a few battle scars.

It seems the locals - already a friendly, helpful bunch - became even more so in the past couple of days of driving it. Looks like they are starting to accept us as one of their own. :-)