It's midnight as I type.......I'm looking down at the weather board in the corner of my screen and all I can do it sigh. The temperature is -20 degrees Fahrenheit. Tomorrow the high- the HIGH - is predicted to be -13 degrees Fahrenheit.
A quick bit of math.......water freezes at 32F, so lets call that "freezing." I am sitting at 52 degrees BELOW FREEZING! Let's go the other way. Think of the difference between "freezing" and 84 degrees. Quite a big difference, isn't it? Well I'm that big of a difference the other way.
Normally I wouldn't complain. But now I'm a homeowner. I returned from Christmas vacation to a frozen and broken water pump and a cracked water line. After getting that fixed, my kitchen sink drain froze. After fixing that my guest bathtub drain froze. I am ignoring that for now, because shortly after that the water line to my kitchen sink froze. Oh and the overflow on my water tank froze, so I didn't get my biweekly water delivery. So like I said, normally I wouldn't complain............ It's just I haven't seen a temperature above -5F since I got back to Bethel on Dec 28th. Oh, and by the way, all these temps are without wind chill, which has dropped the temps to -40F or worse.
On the plus side, I'm learned a lot about plumbing, space heaters, spray insulation, copper and PVC pipe repair, and more. I've also learned an inordinate amount about the underside of my house. I've crawled around under there so much in the last week I don't even need my headlight anymore! Okay, that's an exaggeration. I did just smack my head on an overhead beam.
Hey look.......... -21 F. Sleep well!
-----------------------------------------
UPDATE 1/12/08 1pm: -27 F. Anyone seen a good deal on a ticket to Hawaii?
------------------------------------------
FINAL UPDATE 1/16/08 11pm +32 F. We bottomed out last week at -37F (true temp- not with wind chill) and then Monday afternoon we swung up to the positives. Ahhhhhhhhh......Heat wave!
Friday, January 11, 2008
Sunday, January 06, 2008
First Kill
Light was beginning to creep across the sky, though the sun still had an hour or so before it rose. Our party of three snowmobiles zipped down the frozen river toward the small village of Kwethluk. We came up off the river and passed through the village quickly to begin our southeast travel toward Three Step Mountain. The icy -5 degree F air - its power increased by the 30mph rate of travel- sought out any small piece of exposed skin. Yet for the most part, we were well bundled and warm. Several miles out of Kwethluk we came upon a large set of tracks crossing the river. The sun now peeked over the distant mountains creating a shimmer on the low lying ice fog. Turning to follow the tracks, we came up a small bluff and Ryan glassed the area with his binoculars. Several small herds - 20-40 animals each- dotted the horizon.
We took a break to drink some warm beverage and stretch a bit before beginning the pursuit. Leaving the well travelled trail meant a rougher, and therefore slower, ride. The tundra, frozen as it was, did not have a thick blanket of snow. The hummocks and shrubs then create a bumpy ride. After slowly riding toward our preselected herd we began to use the lower lying lakes and sloughs to creep closer and closer. The animals seemed unpeturbed by our machines noise, but they were aware of our movements. We decided to take turns, with one hunter out front and the other two trailing from a distance. Chris took the first animal down and after a brief meeting at his kill, I set off toward the herd with Ryan trailing.
The animals had run a bit, but not far. I dropped into a frozen lake bed and shot across it, popping up at a slight angle to the herd. They noticed me but didn't move much. Approaching obtusely, almost paralleling them, I got within 100-120 yards and turned off my machine. I held my breath as a gazed through the rifle scope. At this temperature the slightest moisture would ice up the glass. I could my heart's thumping excitement as I shot.............
Nothing. I looked through the scope from animal to animal. No one stumbled, no one fell. The animals walked away a bit, but then stopped again and resumed eating and resting. I watched for several minutes before convincing myself that nothing had been hit. This time I took more time, allowed myself to relax a bit. The 8x power of the scope brought the animals near as I scanned for a shot. Then a bull turned and simply stood - a perfect profile. The crack of the rifle and the fall of the animal seemed simultaneous. No jumping, no running - just a collapse. I waited and watched. The other animals moved away, startled but stopped shortly. Had the desire or need been there, I was still in range. After waiting to ensure the animal wasn't going to rise I slowly headed down. Now the rest of the herd headed off over the next hill.
As I approached I could see the animal was bleeding heavily from the neck. It lay on its side, unmoving. I got off my machine and approached on foot. I could see the heartbeat still thumping in its side - it was alive. I reached the barrel of the rifle toward its head and it tried to pull away, but its body could not respond. With a somewhat surreal sense, I stood a few feet away and fired a point blank shot to the head. Snow and dirt kicked up from the impact. There was no movement after that. I'm not sure exactly what I felt......Excitement, pride in my success, guilt for taking a life, and even some horror that I could fire that last shot. But it was done. My first kill - an Alaskan caribou.
All three of us got a caribou-all clean shots- and we decided to bring them all together to work. As I rode with my friend Ryan to help him pick up his animal we looked over toward Three Step Mountain. The ice fog still rolled near the base of the mountain and the clear sky and bright sun make the fog and frozen ground sparkle. Between us and mountain stood the herd of caribou and beyond all that an endless landscape of open tundra. It was a scene that you wish you could capture with a camera, even knowing a photo would never even approach the beauty of that moment.
The animals won't be wasted. As we were leaving, all that remained on the tundra were the gut piles and the hides. Cleaning the caribou for me was challenging but not particularly distasteful or troubling. The heads and hooves will go to a dog mushing team of my friend Angela. The quarters, rib cages and neck meat were taken and packed on to the sleds to be processed later. Many a delicious dinners await.
We turned and headed toward home just as light was fading from the sky. As we rounded the first bend, the herd of 30-40 caribou were still right there, watching us depart into the coming night.
We took a break to drink some warm beverage and stretch a bit before beginning the pursuit. Leaving the well travelled trail meant a rougher, and therefore slower, ride. The tundra, frozen as it was, did not have a thick blanket of snow. The hummocks and shrubs then create a bumpy ride. After slowly riding toward our preselected herd we began to use the lower lying lakes and sloughs to creep closer and closer. The animals seemed unpeturbed by our machines noise, but they were aware of our movements. We decided to take turns, with one hunter out front and the other two trailing from a distance. Chris took the first animal down and after a brief meeting at his kill, I set off toward the herd with Ryan trailing.
The animals had run a bit, but not far. I dropped into a frozen lake bed and shot across it, popping up at a slight angle to the herd. They noticed me but didn't move much. Approaching obtusely, almost paralleling them, I got within 100-120 yards and turned off my machine. I held my breath as a gazed through the rifle scope. At this temperature the slightest moisture would ice up the glass. I could my heart's thumping excitement as I shot.............
Nothing. I looked through the scope from animal to animal. No one stumbled, no one fell. The animals walked away a bit, but then stopped again and resumed eating and resting. I watched for several minutes before convincing myself that nothing had been hit. This time I took more time, allowed myself to relax a bit. The 8x power of the scope brought the animals near as I scanned for a shot. Then a bull turned and simply stood - a perfect profile. The crack of the rifle and the fall of the animal seemed simultaneous. No jumping, no running - just a collapse. I waited and watched. The other animals moved away, startled but stopped shortly. Had the desire or need been there, I was still in range. After waiting to ensure the animal wasn't going to rise I slowly headed down. Now the rest of the herd headed off over the next hill.
As I approached I could see the animal was bleeding heavily from the neck. It lay on its side, unmoving. I got off my machine and approached on foot. I could see the heartbeat still thumping in its side - it was alive. I reached the barrel of the rifle toward its head and it tried to pull away, but its body could not respond. With a somewhat surreal sense, I stood a few feet away and fired a point blank shot to the head. Snow and dirt kicked up from the impact. There was no movement after that. I'm not sure exactly what I felt......Excitement, pride in my success, guilt for taking a life, and even some horror that I could fire that last shot. But it was done. My first kill - an Alaskan caribou.
All three of us got a caribou-all clean shots- and we decided to bring them all together to work. As I rode with my friend Ryan to help him pick up his animal we looked over toward Three Step Mountain. The ice fog still rolled near the base of the mountain and the clear sky and bright sun make the fog and frozen ground sparkle. Between us and mountain stood the herd of caribou and beyond all that an endless landscape of open tundra. It was a scene that you wish you could capture with a camera, even knowing a photo would never even approach the beauty of that moment.
The animals won't be wasted. As we were leaving, all that remained on the tundra were the gut piles and the hides. Cleaning the caribou for me was challenging but not particularly distasteful or troubling. The heads and hooves will go to a dog mushing team of my friend Angela. The quarters, rib cages and neck meat were taken and packed on to the sleds to be processed later. Many a delicious dinners await.
We turned and headed toward home just as light was fading from the sky. As we rounded the first bend, the herd of 30-40 caribou were still right there, watching us depart into the coming night.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
