MHI Alaska :: A Dish Served Cold Pt II

NOVEMBER 14, 1934
ONE WEEK FROM MCCARTHY
WRANGELL MOUNTAINS, ALASKA



Too close!

Buck hunkered lower into the snow, trying not to mind the colt wet that slowly seeped through the elbows of his woolen jacket.

Three hundred fifty yards away, the remains of the sled team sniffed around what was left of the old miner. The dogs’ flesh hung off their bones in raggedy strips - the warm fall had really done a number on them.

He hated it when the Zulu bug got loose on sled teams - there wasn’t a more sorrowful sight in nature than once-friendly pups dripping their guts out and dragging down anything that moved.

Not many things more dangerous either. They were used to men. Men had always meant food.
… they still did.


Buck thought he'd be okay though, as long as the wind didn’t shift...

…. shit.

The first dog raised its gnarled head, sniffing the air.

Don’t howl don’t howl don’t....

The dog somehow still had enough air in its cracked and tattered chest to let out a howl. The cry echowed eerily around the broad canyon, and the rest of the team rasied their heads.

shit shit shit....

Buck raised his 1903 NRA Sporter, pulling it tight to his shoulder. Wind was quartering away, range 350, a little downhill, and....

The rifle jumped, and almost in the same instant the lead dog rolled into the dirt.

Other heads raised to sniff the air, and the pack broke towards him.

This is such a bad day.

Buck worked the bolt fast, and leaned against his sling for the next shot.

Hit.

Three rounds left. Seven more dogs. Now two hundred odd yards, at a run.

This wasn’t going to end well.

Damn!  His next shot went into the dirt, two yards shy of his target.

Two rounds left. A hundred and fifty yards. God those things could run fast.

Focus...focus...

Hit!

Seventy-five yards. One more shot.

Briefly, Buck wished he’d thought fast enough to unsling first so he could swallow that last pill himself. The next half hour wasn’t likely to be over quickly.

Make it count, make it count...

*click*

Oh hell no.
no no no no...

oh god look at that dog his teeth are cracked and I think I see his heart and is that a .. oh shit this is going to hurt ....

…. to be continued.

MHI Alaska :: A Dish Served Cold

So Friend Paul has been our resident MHI guy, and mentioned wanting to enter Larry's Patch contest. Figuring that anything worth doing is worth doing well, I present to you -

MIDNIGHT, OCT 30, 2011
PETE'S LANDING, CHITINA RIVER
WRANGELL MOUNTAINS, ALASKA


The mountains loomed high over the glacial river. Their sheer cold mass dwarfed the scratched airstrip off one bank, where one old Cessna ticked and popped in the cooling air. Nearby, the orange glow of a single window shone out alone in the night.


The wind seemed to slice right through the walls of the old homesteader's cabin, cold and wet off the glacier. Snow had been falling on and off for the last couple weeks - winter was going to set in hard this year, and soon.


Jake hunched over the old iron stove, stirring the fire inside to brighter life. He pulled off his old Carhartt work coat and tossed it to the table.


His niece Jamie reached out and picked it out of the air, grabbing it to her lap.
Her finger traced the patch on the shoulder, and for a moment stared into those evil red eyes looking back at her. Now the stitched figure of a skeletal moose seemed almost family - but she remembered how as a girl she'd close her eyes and run past her father's pack in the closet, terrified those eyes might see her.


Shaking off the memory, she looked up.
"So Uncle J - tell me about the moose here."


"What moo... oh, Harvey? Sweetie, you've heard that story a hundred times!"


"Sure - but I think Rick would like to hear it."
She grinned back at the new addition to the team, a PI fresh from Outside.


Rick looked up from the .454 he was cleaning, and raised a dubious eyebrow.
"... Harvey?"


"Yup. He's real. Well, was. Big ol' guy." Jake leaned over to peek out the tiny window, checking the moon's crescent.

"I reckon we've got some time yet.."

He leaned back, kicking up his feet to rest on the log wall.

"So there was this little dustup in my Daddy's time, back in the territory days...."

To be continued...

Frontier Pasgetti

... While eating down the pantry, I just discovered that if you heat it enough to drain off most of the fat, pemmican makes for a right nice base for a spaghetti sauce. Took a little getting used to - but it was actually good. Very "steak-y" texture. Good thing to remember - a decent ground beef substitute that can sit for weeks or months on the shelf is kinda cool.

I mentioned it to a friend of mine, and promptly got gushing praise for biltong. Guess I'll have to try it sometime soon. She's sending recipes. :)

Fish in a barrel

So after last year's visit to Colonial Williamsburg with my Dad, I've been on their mailing list.

Usually that amounts to a sale flyer or the like popping up in my email box. Every now and again a survey.

Yesterday, though, I came home to find a DVD from them sitting in my mailbox! Seems they'd just finished a restoration of the 1957 film "Williamsburg: the Story of a Patriot." As a particularly impressive fundraising direct mail piece, they'd send copies of it out to their mailing list.

I put it on while relaxing with a bit of sewing this evening. Very 50's. But fun.

The best bit of trivia? When they were filming the movie in the late 50's, they used locals for extras. Now women and children were easy to find, but who could they get to fill out the state house? Who could play all the politicians in town, and yell and posturing while Patrick Henry gave his speeches? All the men of the town were at work, and could hardly spare the time to play movie actor for weeks on end.


There was however a state mental hospital in town...






... you know, I don't think I even need to finish that post. :p

Kitchen knife

Since everyone has been showing off their sharp and pointys, I figure this is a good time to post a birthday present we all got together for a friend of mine up here.

See, she's a brilliant cook - even translating her own recipies out of a medieval cooking book! A..um... medieval Dutch cooking book if I recall right. Smart cookie.

For years she's been going far out of her way to help everyone with everything, often to great personal cost. So we all figured it was time to make her a little token of appreciation:

The knife is by Blacksmith Chris. Sharp sharp!

The sheath I made - the design I poked out mostly with an awl made by Dear Friend Travis (that man is *such* a handy piece of work). Former SCADians will recognize the device at the bottom. It seemed appropriate.

The finish though is what was fun. I'd been playing with an old finishing technique I was pointed to in some old book or another - a mix of neatfoot oil and beeswax. It's all in the ratio - more oil and you get nice soft supple leather. More wax - especially if you heat it - and you get a stiff piece not unlike modern leather finishes. The neat thing is how that wax just seeps through the leather, so the surface buffs up *nice* and pretty.

Anyhow, off to work. Happy Wednesday all!

The neighborhood, again.

The last few weeks had been hard. Lots of work. Little pay, and that late. Terrible combination. But I'd done all that I could, and if it wouldn't prove quite enough, well.. that's the way it would be. Thank God for full cupboards to eat down anyway.


Anyhow, I'd spent *far* too much time in front of a computer screen lately. It was time for another woodswalk.


First - the stuff. I was in mostly modern clothes, but once off the trails and out of sight, I pulled on a hunting shirt, leather pouch, and a sash from my gypsy days. No fiddle this time, but the satchel and bedroll were same as last time. This time it all handled quite well - The cape of the hunting shirt captured the pouch strap quite well and kept it off my neck, and the "bedroll hanging over knapsack" model was quite comfortable (thanks Loup!)... It's still on it's own strap though, and I did sling it off to one side now and again as comfort dictated. And I was very careful on the hills. :)

To the trip itself - LOTS of fun stuff. These little berries were all over the place:

I saw a couple rose hips here and there, but really needed a good forager like Miss D around to know what was safe to bring home or nibble on in the field.

This close in to town, it's hard not to run into signs of people. This shelter's been there for at least the last year I think. It's fairly clean though, so I'm thinking "kids having fun" instead of the sadly common in Anchorage (especially last year) sight of -  "alcoholics living in the woods."

Back to the walk though!

I'm proceeding along a ridge, and come close to a public trail. Then I see this little surprise - a geocaching station! How cool! It looks like it was put together by a younger lady - all full of stickers and neat kiddo stuff. Had to leave a note, of course.

 

Speaking of human habitation - here's the airfield. Once upon a time it was buried back quite aways from town - since then "town" has started to catch up, but this area is off limits to more building. In fact, parts seem to be getting swallowed back up - Mother Nature never rests. Here and there in the woods you'll still trip over the concrete remains of WWII era Army airfield infrastructure.

Seems once upon a time *another* outpost of the US had everything smashed at once by a surprise attack, so the powers that be thought it would be a good idea to scatter the assets at Elmendorf across the countryside. This airfield - still in use - is one of the fruits of that decision.

This was just weird -  far back from the trails, a little black parachute hanging in a tree. It's not too far off the airfield, so I'm assuming someone dropped it as a part of some game or another once upon a time. I'm assuming no one told the FAA. :)

A bit further on, cross the dogmushing trails:

After that, the walk really got good. Saw a rabbit, saw a mouse... didn't see any bear, but lots of moose scat.



Mostly though was the quiet. I had to force myself to whistle or sing occasionally so as not to unpleasantly surprise them that don't take well to surprises. As it was.. my feet just slipped into that quiet deliberate walk of the woodlands, taking in every sound and every smell. Watching the approach of wind through the trees, waiting for the first brush of it to arrive on your face. The occasional spatter of rain - and an utter obliviousness to it beyond quiet acceptance of that which is.

I'm not a hunter - but I see why those of you that are like it so much.

There is no mediation like the timeless, ever-aware yet ego-absent zen of the woods. I so need more of that.

What a sweet day. :)

Alaskan Saturdays...

Even in town are awesome.

The morning and early afternoon was spent with IA guy at his shop, and I learned how to drill and tap a hole in metal.  For when...um... the right screws for a given application.. um.. disappear*. Wonderful day for learning new things!

After that I went to visit with one of my blacksmith friends, asking about reparing a set of (original, far as I can tell) sewing shears I came into. They were a lot more buggered up that I was expecting - but given the damage has been done, we're not thinking it'd be much of a sin to get them back in working order. Fun!

Finally, on the way home from getting dinner fixings**, there was a backup on the exit back to home.
This is why:

Not pictured is the crowd all around and the Fish and Game guy standing there with a big ol' shotgun making sure we don't molest the critters, and vice versa. Poor guy seemed a little frazzled at the todo. So did Momma, actually. But the cubs were *adorable*.

... from a distance.

(Incidentally, remember that walk I took a few months back? Momma and baby were right on it. A little less than a mile from home, actually.)


Finally, home for the evening and a bit of sewing while listening to some King's Mountain stories. (Good Lord skirts take forever to hem!)

To add to my "did not know this morning" list -
1. Via a podcast -  always cut down dead trees immediately. Something about living next door to tons of dried hardwood standing all up like a chimney being a bad idea or something.
2. My cauldron really doesn't like being used in the oven to bake beans. Sucked the seasoning right out in the food area it seems like. Might have to reseason it - bother. But at least it's a good excuse for a genuine Boston beanpot. If only I had a good excuse to visit and get one. :p



Wonderful day!

Tomorrow?
Well, it'll definitely have some highlights but I'm not expecting it to be quite so happy.

Ten years already. Woof.
Blessings, y;all.







==============
* Don't worry Mr. FAA guy. It was a frickin' vacuum cleaner. Nothing airborne. :)

** Wild salmon, fresh spinach, and brie. Sometimes living well is on sale. :)

What has she got on her shelvseses?

Oh fun!

I confess, I'm one of Those People that always wonders to the bookshelves in a friend's house to get to know 'em better, so this is a fun meme. I'll play!

Here's at least the ones that made it to my (tiny) Alaska cottage, or been acquired since. Most of my library is in storage or otherwise scattered to the winds I'm afraid.  But I'll at least show you the front room my guests see. :)

Living Room shelf one. This is the "working shelf" stuff where most of what I'm reading lives on.

• Bookshelf top: Antique writing box, quills, and inkwell - I still need a ponce pot and a document tube to keep all those papers in so I don't keep knocking them off the bookshelf every time I walk by. Those are mostly reprints of 18th c. Virginia Gazettes, along with copies of the Mayflower Compact, Washington's Inaugural Address, miscellaneous broadsides, a Concord militia roster, and chapbooks of  Common Sense, A Summary View of the Rights of British America, and an Edinburgh Shorter Catechism.
  
  On the wall above is a (still unframed) copy of Revere's Boston Massacre engraving, and modern paintings/photos from Concord Bridge and Bennington VT. I'd like to add that with some more Southern stuff at some point, and some of the pretty map reprints of New England and the Virginia colonies that Williamsburg sells - that in due course.
  
  
• Top row: Mostly Southern Mountain frontier region and Scots-Irish history. A couple historical novels by Cameron Judd. Foxfire and Eric Sloan (beautiful work!). Guides to Colonial Williamsburg and the Virginia Frontier Culture Museum.
  
  
• Middle row: Mostly more generic early American history - right side is more overview/politically oriented (I have Schweikart/Allen I got when our Borders closed but still haven't read  - I still need my own copy of Zinn). Towards the left of the shelf is mostly primary source (my nice copies of De Toqueville and Locke moved here from the kitchen shelf, along with the Montesquieu from last night). Also a couple books of archaeological finds and backcountry store records.
  
  
• Bottom row: Mark Baker's books, a little on frontier riflemen, a couple more Fischer books (Albion's Seed and Liberty and Freedom), a book of Diderot plates, an old textbook-bound book of American folktales, a year-by-year US chronology, my embroidery/sewing books and costuming books, and the start of my Classical studies - Herodotus, Livy, and Virgil's Aeneid. 

Living Room shelf two (older picture)
Geneva Bible reprint, Blackstone's Commentaries, Adams-Jefferson letters (not shown), a copy of a Revolutionary War documentary (now on loan to a friend) and some misc. philosophy.
And mah cookin' stuff. :)

Tomorrow night if I'm up for it - the back room.

--Maslow's-- Montesquieu's Hierarchy of Needs

Pulled out the books again some tonight - it had been too long.

Finally starting to wade into Montesquieu

So far? It's amazing how little the debate has changed.

Book One, First Section: The universe oberervationally follows fixed rules of operation. F=ma today, tomorrow, and in 2000 BC. From this we infer that there is such a thing as universal laws, for without them, the universe is not physically possible.

Mankind also has laws of our own making, but we're not so good at the "fixed" part and less good at obeying them. Which doesn't mean we're not still very subject to the universal laws. F also equals ma at the bottom of a lunar crater. ;)

Book One, Second Section: While a moral law to obey our Creator might be most important, it is not the first to emerge. Montesquieu suggests the following order

1. Peace, via avoiding of danger. He contests this point with (English) Hobbes, who had stated the natural state of mankind is war - or rather, conflict. Montequeiu believed earliest humanity would flee rather than fight their neighbors. And anything else, really.
Feel free to make French jokes, but remember in about nineteen years a wee little lad named Napoleon will be born. :)

2. Food.

3. Companionship. Most particularly of the ... um.... friendly variety.

4. Community.

That might sound a little familiar to anyone who's sat through a Psych 101 class in undergrad. :p

So far really familiar ground - but what an interesting time. More later - no more monitors tonight.





Also... my jury number still hasn't come up this week. Looking like they won't need me after all. Oh well. :)

Sunday miscellany

I think it's about time for a slow day.

I woke up this morning to a small cauldron full of baked Boston beans that had been going all night (sometimes eating down the pantry is fun) - and stopped to drool over the goodies at Circa 1820. 

May give some friends a shout this afternoon, but for the most of today - a bit of long-needed sewing, long-neglected harping, and lots of chai. 

Laters, yall. Happy Sabbath. :)

Edit - hunh.
Listening to a DVD from SmartFlix, I went on a youTube search for examples of the Great Vowel Shift.
Wherein you will find within a couple clicks a whole sub genre of folks rapping Chaucer. Something about learning the accent patterns in Middle English.

hunh. The things you learn in school these days. :) 

Me and My .30-06

So like Paul said, we headed out to the range today.
My brother let me borrow back the .30-06 Winchester from daddy, so I purchased a sling for it and a little notebook to see how much I could remember from that Appleseed a while back.


Not too terrible - I only did prone today, and not much of that to be honest. But I'm already finding half a box of ammunition paying attention and taking notes is a heck of a lot more brain-buirning and tiring than an hour or two spent plinking with a .22.

It's kinda like the fiddle that way I guess. Just playing is the fun part and will keep you from rusting up too much - but it's the monotonous "perfect as you can" scales that make you better.

< whine > self-improvement is hard < /whine > :)




skill problems (the "known unknowns")

• My inexperience at getting/keeping a good position where the rifle actually jumps and moves and makes loud noises, and I need to keep moving to work the bolt, reload it, so forth and so on. With a lower recoil semi-auto a "zen" state came pretty easy last month. This was work the whole time.
• I get tired easy. Some of that may be recoil, but I think the greater part is just plain frustration because of my position problems.

Equipment problems/frustrations:

• Biggest was eye protection. It fogged up so much, so fast that I was having real problems seeing the target. Pulling them down my nose a touch for more airflow helped a touch - I could at least get one or two shots off before I couldn't see any more. The weird thing is that I can wear eye protection in a workshop for hours and not notice it - but put me behind a rifle and I'm staring through a cloud bank inside a couple seconds. Solution - no idea.
• I think my sling loop wasn't tight enough at fist - under recoil and my movement it started creeping down my arm until it was useless. Solution - just hork the keeper down more, maybe move things around so the second keeper can lock it somehow? Dunno.
• Even the rubber pad on the stock was slipping around some, making keeping a consistent position hard. Solution - maybe some kind of friction tape on the butt? Or maybe I'm just not pulling it in tight enough?

Results? I started at around 3MOA, and as I got tired and frustrated opened up to 6MOA. Not horrid, but not good. Paul was patient enough to let me stop for a little bit the .22 side, which helped at least end the day on a happy one-raggedy-hole note.

The best part though was prolly coffee at a swank "globally conscious" coffee place Paul knew of not far away (Travis, we are SO going next time you're in town!)   It was especially fun pulling out the notebook of range notes, throwing a bunch of targets of the table, along with the  "what are you doing wrong" diagnosis notesheets from Appleseed, and reviewing everything over coffee.

Fun day - thanks Paul!



Anyhow... someday. :)