Sunday, July 29, 2012

Reunions and Orwell

I'm mostly a solo-going person. Surprise, surprise, who would've guessed. Some call me antisocial, but that being said, I tell a lot of my friends to come visit me, and if I extend an invitation I really mean it.
A really good high school friend of mine came up to visit Coldfoot, Alaska. As of yet, he is the only person who has ever successfully tracked me down, and to get up here involved sleeping on gravel under a trailer, hitching a ride in a pick-up, and running out of gas on the Haul Road.
Over the Yukon River. 
A friend of mine jokes that she likes to play the game "Where in the world is Carmen SanDiego" except it's "Where in the world is Natalie". I'm pretty sure my parents have lost track of where I've been the past year, not talking about the last two years, so I've drawn a crude map (sleep-deprived in the Colombian airport. My photoshop skills are better than this jpg, I swear).


Damn. That's a lot of flying. I need to start planting my carbon-reducing rainforest soon.

Anyway, life goes on.

Cooking coffee cake with a lantern hat. 
Cranny slipped her collar, dug a hole into the pen of the cannibalistic franken-chickens, and in a fit of bloodlust tore 5 chickens to shreds. The crime scene was gruesome and my boss had to tackle her to the ground as she whined and bucked with the blood of her victims all over her fur.
The Coyote Air household in all its sombrero-filled glory


Apparently my boss and wife met when she put a cat on her head thinking it was a hat. My friend decided to practice this approach with our cat Pookie. 


We saw a herd of goats up on a scree slope. This one had a mohawk. I wonder if teenage goats can get diagnosed with ADHD or Depression? It seems like everyone's getting some diagnosis of abnormality these days. What happened to people just being....normal and quirky and different? Does everyone need to fit into a tightly-defined box? I'm pretty sure if a psychologist got his hands on me he'd think Christmas came early, so maybe I'm just being defensive. I wouldn't know.

Ok. I'm done ranting. Sorry for that tangent.


Lots of rainbows on the drive, and speaking of rainbows, I just read 1984 by George Orwell-----Big Brother, crimethink, thoughtcrime, doublethink...


We get a lot of people up here in Alaska that my boss kindly refers to as "end-of-the-roaders". These are people that end up here not because they are captivated by the environment or lifestyle of Arctic living, as much as they just don't fit in anywhere else. They also tend to be single, older men with grizzled beards, that drink whiskey and think it's a good idea to feed bears in their yard (I honestly think they do it to have some company during the long winter nights).



Looking good.
Carlton Ultimate represent. 
ANWR and sun and no mosquitoes. Life happiness.

What's summer for if not for sitting on the Subi soaking in the sun, Ratatat, snowy owls, discussing the human element, physics, Simon and Garfunkel and almost driving off the road?

Brooks Mountain Range on a clear day. 
I'm getting faint stirrings of an idea to traverse the entire Brooks Range from the Canadian Yukon border, across ANWR, through the Gates of the Arctic and finish at the Bering Strait. Maybe next summer. I'd need at least 2 months, but still....

So remember the geese? Yeah, so here's my boss lovingly holding and petting one nicknamed Rubber Ducky.






Then this happened...


My boss is no longer fond of geese.

So what else is new.

Booze cruises on Shirley the Shit-Stormer----the name of the little row boat at Coldfoot.
On Shirley the Shit-Stormer on a nice evening with the crew.
My boss sent me to town to buy $300 worth of Ribeye steak. Alaskans love their meat. 


Anytime anyone goes down to Fairbanks, it's a courtesy, and let's face it, more of a requirement that you take alcohol orders (there's no place to buy any in Coldfoot). Think of it as a 13 hour drive booze run. 

 I bought $250 worth at the Fred Meyer liquor store, which elicited quite the coy grin from the cashier, even as I tried in vain to convince him that none of it was for my own consumption. 

The pickup loaded with ribeye steak, liquor, lumber and propane. 
I guess what I'm trying to say is that I miss having you in my life. Whoever you are, and if you have taken the time to read this far down into the unorganized stream-of-thoughts that is this blog, then you have time to visit me or at least email me. 

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