The last days in the last frontier

Zeph back to Paris, 14 more days in Alaska before my visa runs out and the cold which made it hard to live in the car; yep, it was time to head south, to legal grounds, warmer winds and work opportunities.

Before I would leave Anchorage I was determent to meet up with a pretty famous photographer here in Alaska, Myron Rosenberg. We had gotten in contact through email and he had invited me to come have a look at his house-gallery.
It took me almost a week to get an appointment with him. He had just been on a trip to the Sierra’s in California and his house was in disarray he said.

Not so bad, in those days I calmed down. Worked on my journal, climbed Flattop Mt which gives an incredible view over the plain that holds the Anchorage city limits, the bay and Mt McKinley in the far distance, did some shopping, found the cheapest place in town to give the Silver Spirit an oil change and got to know the streets pretty well. I also carved a pumpkin who took a ride on the top of my car for several days, first hard frozen, later totally slumbered and soggy. Every evening I would visit one or two different establishments; to eat a cup of Soup-of-the-Day and to knit a new scarf or write my diary. The only requirement from me was a live band.
This way I got to know Nick, an extremely good guitar player. The first time I saw him it was at Blues Central and I wiggled my feet on fantastic Original Jazz. An electric piano, base guitar, saxiphone, mouth harmonica, drums and a big base all had good times. The second time I saw him was at a fancier lounge and the Jazz was more classical with a piano. All players were so good; it was super fun and pleasurable. I got to see Nicks house which had tons of instruments and two other guys engrossed in music. They all toured to play traditional Alaskan music in little towns.

So, finally, I met Myron and his four big, caged-in German Sheppard’s at his warehouse. He talked, about his life and personal issues at the moment and we sat in on a ‘how to create your own franchise on the internet’ home-sales-talk. It was so plastic and fake; the man looked like Ken from Barbie. We had to laugh hearty when we drove back.
We made spaghetti and a salad, had late night supper and I heard more of his personal daily life.

In the next three days I was hoping to get a demonstration photo-making, anything, more about the technology, about cameras, about developing (maybe he had a blackroom), about digital adjustment on the computer, about how to travel and make photo’s, about the business itself and a little about how I could improve my photo making (not my camera, but my positioning).
Myron is a nature photographer with a camera that takes half an hour to set up, so no action photos or spontaneous people. Everything is planned and set up. He had a few spots in mind that he still wanted to hike up to and make a session. I was told that we would go up two or three spots and work it all out.
To make a disappointed time less painful I will tell you that it was not totally worth hanging out with Myron. Nothing got done, I did not hear anything about photography, even my questions were answered with a dead end respond and we never got to the places of the shoot. We did drive around one day, but arrived too late to start hiking and when we did hike on the last day we started too late as well and left the equipment halfway up the trail (its very heavy stuff) to have a free and easy ascent to the top for just a view.
It was nice of Myron to let me stay in his house and that I was able to make a lot of tea, but at the end it had been a pretty uninspiring, uneventful, dragging experience. I was happy when Myron drove back to Anchorage with his personal life and I could start a new chapter.

Sometimes it’s difficult to find the hidden lessons in live. You only want to complain about not getting anything valuable out of an experience. You ask why life gave you this offer, why you took it and if you maybe didn’t listen to your intuition. It’s so important to understand that there is reason, knowledge and especially beauty in everything. If I look back on that week I realize that I learned a lot of things, especially in human relations. (And that I always have to wear a life jacket, call when I change my not changed plans and should buy woolen pants, eh Myron.)

On my way to visit one of the boys from Bear Island, where we fished together for one month, I, of course, visited Fireworks Joe. He was still living single in his big stand. The shutters were half drawn and instead in a T-shirt he came out with a fur hat, but it was still the same old Joe who made me massive waffles and cabbage/carrot/moose burger stew. We chatted half stories, he cooked and I knitted. What more do you want. Even the tea was made fresh from cranberries and rosehip.

From here on the road has been slippery and iffy. Ice patches and snow drifts make the road pretty dangerous and so the driving has been slow, full with new driving experiences and desolate stretches. It’s something; I’m amazed not more accidents happen. All those kids that try to drive as fast as possible around the bend, slip and then continue sideways. Or the ones that test their studded tires by braking as sudden as possible. Idiots. I must look like a grandma, driving only 50km/h on the highway. Well, as long as I get there safe. And its good too to have a intense look at the surroundings. Remember I’m here to see the country, not to get somewhere.

My visit with Tim was something else I tell you.
His family has 13 kids; he is third in line with 8 brothers and 5 sisters, the oldest being 25 (just got married) and the youngest 6. His parents are from Russia and after they lived in New York several years they moved here. A very strict Christian household. When I was introduced to Nicolay, 48, the father, I was asked to put on a skirt. No problem, I’m in his house, so his wishes rule.
The next 24 hours I was dragged to Tim’s church, hang out with his friends building a bonfire with stolen pallets, driving…no ripping up on the snow mobile (my first time) and we saw some vague Northern lights.

Helped cut a lot of cabbage for the family, talked with the mother about the fishing (Tim had hardly told anything) (and the other kids had to translate for me), played Mancala, ate traditional Russian Rasolnek and sat in on the home church that Nicolay held for him and the kids that were too young to choose to participate or not. It was amazing that whatever Nicolay said was related to religion, how hard the girls worked and how sad they were when I really had to leave at 5pm cause they had been kept busy and had not had any time to play with me. The mother was sick in many ways and could not take care of the household anymore, that’s way. Everyone had their own task. Fascinating.

The boarder was reached, I was back in Canada without any trouble. I slept along the highway, hiked one of the best hikes in those five months, leading up to a massive hill, covered by 30cm deep snow and surrounded by mountain peeks. The whitest world.
It’s so sparkly and pretty everywhere. Frozen lakes,

frosted branches, snow covered houses, cars with ice pegs, fragile leaves and animal trails everywhere.

Crossing the Yukon I did not encounter much exciting to write about besides the first snowstorm with wet heavy flakes that made driving extra nerve wrecking.

Until I arrived in Watson Lake where I was lucky enough to see a big bon fire and fireworks for Halloween. The kids were all dressed up and dragging candy around. Mr Pumpkin had made it all the way from Anchorage to here and was ready to burn, so he got lost in the fire.

It was here that I met Scott and Jean who invited me to sleep over, and two days later I’m still here because….......