I feel my language and vernacular expanding and shifting the more I am here.”They’re seeing Silvers in the Kenai.” “The Eklutna Tailrace had some rollovers last night, but they are looking pretty blush.” In Chicago (and Madison for that matter) I never knew what a minus tide was. I guess I had an idea – it’s when the tide is out – but I never knew what it really meant, how to read a tide table, and how to plan my day around it. On July 4th there was a -5 tide, which is about as great as it gets for razor clamming at Clam Gulch (I know, stunning name. It’s right up there next to Forest Park in St Louis – beautiful park for sure along with a great art museum). The -5 tide was at 11:30 am, which is the apex of the tide if you will, so we planned on getting there around 10. We left Chugiak around 6:45 and zoomed down to Kenai. It was about 60 degrees out and fairly clear. You never know what it will be like when you actually get down to the coast on the peninsula, but in this case it stayed beautiful. The beach was filled with people for as far as the eye could see in each direction, pock marked sand everywhere between them. We had 2 buckets, a small shovel, and a clam tube. Becky’s brother told us to just look for a small dimple and then dig there. Easy. After about 10 minutes of digging at supposed dimples we still were coming up empty. People around us seemed to be tossing something into their buckets every few minutes, so they were having luck. It was starting to sink in that our trip may be a total waste. Once 11:30 comes the clock starts ticking and soon there is very little beach left to dig. Hmmm. I see what looks like a very pronounced dimple, arrogantly force the tube over it, and push down very hard. I placed my index finger over the air hole and slowly draw up the tube of sand, shaking it out onto the beach to find a beautiful razor clam. Such a relief. Soon we were getting a clam every 5-10 minutes, now that our eyes had focused in on what exactly a correct dimple looks like. Pulling up a full tube of sand is no easy task. The suction alone is a beast to wrestle. The muscles involved and the posture make it literally a deadlift – dig your heels in, look up, and pull. It felt about as difficult as a 250lb deadlift at its worst moment, which is just before it starts to break loose from its deepest point. Great workout. We ended up with about 30 razor clams by 1pm and the tide had almost fully come in. Maybe enough for clam chowder? We transferred them into a fresh bucket of saltwater (they’ll sit there for the night as they belch out all of their sand), hiked up in the new 60 degree drizzle to the truck, headed into Soldotna to use the bathroom at the Fred Meyer, and then finally ate our sandwiches in the truck marveling at how amazingly delicious leftover, cold fajita wraps can be when you are dirty, tired, and starving. A perfect 4th. By the time we returned to Chugiak it was sunny and clear and one of the warmest days of the year – 70 degrees. I’d like to go clamming again, but I’ll try next time to be there 3+ hours before the maximum minus tide. Maybe I can get 100+ clams. I ended up cleaning them the next morning and having about 1 cup of meat, which I sautéed in olive oil, and then threw in some pasta with alfredo a few days later. Delicious and extremely fresh.

…

Housesitting in Chugiak is now done. I liked the space, but I am very happy to be back to a much shorter commute and the lack of full time responsibility for 2 dogs. I love dogs but being the full time herder can wear a little thin, especially with 2 high energy animals. Give me 2 English Setters any day.
…

I’m legit now. There are Alaska plates on my truck.

…

Saturday the 19th was a truly beautiful day – mid 60’s and sunny. We accomplished something that was on the list for a long time – dinner at the Double Musky. We tried to go last November, but they were closed for a few weeks – their vacation I understand. I have always heard rumblings that it’s the greatest place to eat in the state, I should expect to wait a while, and I should expect to pay plenty. The middle one is a variable that was only 30 minutes for us, but the others were certainly true. It was an astounding meal – easily one of the top 5 of my meager little life – and it was a little pricey, though completely worth it. Since Becky went for the Filet Mignon I decided to steer towards seafood, which brought me to Shrimp Ettoufee. It was probably the best filet I’ve ever tasted and the shrimp was perfect. The gumbo was tremendous and all I could think about was trying to make it myself. I’m guessing we’ll be back about twice a year, but only for special occasions. It would be the perfect place for visitors to have an evening. All the more appetizers to share.

…


Playing HeroQuest with 2 people is fun, but not as fun as playing Warhammer Quest with 2 people. Warhammer Quest is a much better system when it comes to randomly generating the scenario, but that game is buried in my storage space for the time being. HeroQuest is a very easy and smooth system, but one that really needs a game master. Digging on the internet I was able to find some solo rules and we gave them a try a few weeks ago. This one was the best. You lose some of the building storyline that a GM will give you, but you still do pretty well. I haven’t tried it literally playing solo, but rather with 2 people that don’t want to switch off being the GM. I could see this being a very easy game for people to get an appetite for Warhammer Quest. No complaints, but I’ll probably not be hunting down game packs on ebay anytime soon.

I am a bit sad that My Winnipeg won’t be coming to Anchorage anytime soon, if at all, which is a more probable case. I’m not sure I completely understand and appreciate Guy Maddin’s films yet (or if I will ever), but I get a great deal from them, am never bored, am always excited to find something new in a subsequent viewing, and eager to digest the new stuff whenever he releases it. He never wastes my time and keeps my mind engaged. Isn’t that high praise?

My initial exposure was at a Saturday matinee at the Music Box in Chicago. I saw The Heart of the World first and was completely blown away. For a sub 10 minute film it offers more to digest and appreciate than most good full length releases. After that short they started the feature, which was appropriately Archangel. It was a bit hard follow, though the sense of the famous Maddin love triangle and the complete submersion in pre WW2 film making was easy to accept. I have not watched that movie a second time, but I strongly remember the theme of memory, how to trust it, when not to, and the way it all meshes into one continuous experience in our minds. I wouldn’t be shocked in the slightest if another viewing garnered a completely different reaction, but the sense of distrusting memory sticks in my mind right now.

A few years later Holly got me into a screening of The Saddest Music in the World at Facets where wonderfully Guy himself was present to take some questions and give some thoughts. That movie had the omnipresent Maddin love triangle, though its plot was easy to follow. Given his œuvre one would expect a weird cat visually, or at least a personality similar to a stoned Crispin Glover -- Not the case at all. He seemed like an everyday middle aged Canadian, albeit one with a tremendous knowledge of depression era films. I remember him being presented with the giddy and pregnant question of: “What new movies do you seek out?” He kind of shrugged and said something to the effect of “all the new stuff, the blockbusters, whatever. I love movies and being entertained.” I suspect he broke some hipster hearts on that one. Maybe going to the big budget movies is a pallet cleanser for him, maybe he wants to answer a question like that in a general way to keep his contemporary inspirations close to his vest, or maybe he just doesn’t worry too much about modern film beyond what he’s doing himself. Who knows, but he seemed like a regular guy that happens to be an amazing artist.

Living in Wisconsin forced me to miss the Brand Upon the Brain performances. As great as Bear Tooth is, they probably won’t be getting My Winnipeg, but it will be on dvd someday soon and there is a rumor that Anchorage now has a Netflix hub (2 day turnaround on most discs they say!).

Something about the trailer makes me think about the southside…

Big photo dump today. It’s from 2 rolls of film, yes film, that I started on the drive up here and finished last weekend on a casual ride on the coastal trail here in Anchorage. I usually spend a few dollars when developing film to get the cd for easier flickr posting, but when I got the pictures back from Walmart there was no cd and only something scrawled across the envelop: “We CD machine not work today.” Ok, so I had to scan them in and some are a bit crooked. That explains why it looks like a crackhead did it.

This weekend will be Arctic Thunder and hopefully the Matanuska Glacier, if the weather cooperates both days. I’ll be ready to go with a new roll of film that is planned to see development before the end of summer.

Like most people (hopefully), I’m constantly trying to shed bad habits and look at life changes as for opportunities for rebirth, etc. It is so hard to break so many habits, but leaving a city for a fresh opportunity is a decent amount of momentum to steer in that direction.

I had pretty good luck when I moved to Madison in dropping a great deal of my takeout food habits. Chicago is such a great town to eat in and having lived in the same neighborhood for 29 years, it was so easy to grab a burrito, some sliders, a pile of sesame chicken, or a Big Baby from Jacky’s on my walk home from the Pulaski Orange Line or my more often pedal southwest down Archer Ave. Living there so many years made it an easy afterthought to just grab a bag of grease. Moving to Madison was a chance to not make friends with any grease pits and be forced to cook at home all the more often. If I don’t know where to stop on the way home from work, then I just have to eat at home (though I did succumb to a Teddy Wedger a handful of times – “Hey, it’s summer and I’m riding a lot, I can handle one.”).

One can always do better when it comes to eating properly, so I’m trying to get even better habits here in Alaska. There is no $1 menu at McDonalds here to buzz through, but rather a $1.50 menu to pick through. I’m a cheap bastard when it comes to many things, so this is good motivation to cruise on by and just head for home. I try and look at takeout and other greasy food and their prices and visualize what the cost could equate to. If I eat at home for a while I could easily afford a new wheelset, another wool cap from Lyle, bar tape, more Vampire Counts, or some metal vinyl.

I figure it’s part of an endless march away from bad habits towards better conversations, more a better books read, more and better movies viewed, more miles pedaled, more weight lifted, more models painted well, fewer hours wasted in front of mediocre television, better food, etc, etc, etc. Stay on the path and live long and strong.

I don’t miss most of the things I expected I would when I moved. I knew I would miss people and I certainly have, but thanks to friends like Lora dipping their toes into the blogging world it will be a little easier to keep in touch. I anticipated missing some of the Madison food, but that hasn’t happened (though I do miss the Wisconsin prices). Real Chili already closed long before my move. I’m on an endless Halibut and Salmon diet when dining out – no complaints.

Leaving Madison I figured that the lost cycling opportunities would be high on my list, but they have turned out to be relatively low now that I’ve settled into the trails and back roads of Anchorage and Chugiak. There are plenty of trails to whiz down and birches and spruces to speed by, smelling the fresh air along the way.

I am amazed at how much I miss my gym though. I always knew I was extremely lucky to have a great gym in Madison. It did have some drawbacks, but they were really blatant signs of just how great a gym Ford’s is. You sometimes had to wait a bit for the dead lift platform or one of the squat racks, which while that may have been inconvenient for 5 – 10 minutes, it fostered a priceless environment of proper training, focus, and competition. The proper exercises and muscle groups were always at the top of most people’s training routine – lots of squatting and dealifting with minimal attention to” beach muscles”. I found myself constantly throwing a few more plates on the bar when lifting there just to avoid any sense of complacency. Ford’s was also one of the friendliest groups around. If you looked over at the people endlessly squatting you were apt to ask why you weren’t squatting today, and when you were going to squat next. You were sucked into a friendly vortex of competition and encouragement in the exact exercises that too often drift into the ditch in other gyms. I’m now a 5 day a week guy at the World Gym here in Anchorage. It has a lot to love about it – open 24 hours, sauna/steam room, and no waiting for the squat rack or dead lift platform. You do have to wait at times for the preacher bench or to bench press. There are even a few guys that I see everyday to the point where I have correctly deduced their workout routine: Day 1 is chest, Day 2 is biceps and triceps, repeat. There may be some abdominal work thrown in, but there is certainly nothing beyond that slipping in. There are many people there like that, but also more than a few that work their legs and back as part of a wise routine. All gyms have both types of members, but Ford’s seemed to swing towards the better side of that ratio. The real answer is that I can do all the exercises I want here so it’s up to me (as it always has been). I will miss some of the chit chat at Ford’s: “Throw a 45 on it for you?” (I was planning on adding a 25) “Yeah, let’s do it.” I had the same environment when I skated with much better skaters. I was happy landing 360 flips on flat, but Pete did them faster, over hips, and then switch. Before you know it you’re pushing harder than before. Strength training is ultimately a solitary pursuit, which is probably why I love it so much. You have to embrace the constant, linear nature of the pursuit. Benching 225 is still 225 lbs, whether in Madison or Alaska. Just remember to add some more weight on for the sake of the cheeseheads that couldn’t be here.

Life is pretty good. Housesitting brought forth the following amazing comment: “Eat anything you want from the freezers and fridges. Just don’t eat the crab legs.” “All of the halibut and wild salmon?” “Yep, we have too much anyway right now.” A steady diet of wild Alaskan seafood on the grill is hard to complain about. The Chris from Madison that bought farm raised salmon as a treat now seems like an alien. I even have my own crab legs to eat ($8/lb). I suppose I’ll get tired of salmon someday and long for Northern Wisconsin walleye, but that day isn’t here, and I’d love to try and get to that day. Sounds like a good problem to have.

I feel settled in, yet I’m 3 times removed from having a permanent place. Let me explain. The majority of my life is sitting in a storage facility in South Anchorage, right off Dimond. A small subset of that is at Becky’s tidy apartment – clothing, 2 bikes, a pile of books, scrabble, and hero quest. For the past 2 weeks and the next 4 I’ll be house sitting in Chugiak, AK. It’s a longer drive to work everyday, but the house is nice and big and there are many great cycling opportunities nearby. But, now a subset of my stuff at Becky’s is now out there. My stuff is in 3 places, none of which is anywhere near close to being a permanent home. Oddly, it doesn’t bug me. I have bikes, clothing, and books. Perfect.

I didn’t get a King Salmon on the Kenai last Sunday but “we” (our boat) did – just over 20 lbs. It’s always nice not to get skunked and even better to be on such a beautiful river spending the day, but I really want to catch one of my own. Maybe next weekend.

I guess I’m settled in Alaska now. It feels like I was in Madison a year ago, and word from Chicago and Wisconsin about 90 degree days seems beyond belief. I’ve heard that people in Alaska get a touch of “island fever” at times and I can see how that might be true. Since I am living in 50-60 degree days with 19+ hours of sunlight while surrounded by mountains, green birches, the smell of spruce, and plenty of bike trails (cross and road) – why do I care what is going in the lower 48, outside of the lives of friends and family? So it appears I have a sense of an island, though in a thoroughly positive and embracing way. I suspect that will change over time, particularly in the middle of winter. But for now all is new, happy, and perfect.

Most of my life is stacked indefinitely in a storage facility. When I say most of my life I mean stereo, vinyl, cd’s, warhammer models, dvd player, kitchen stuff, and all of my gaming stuff. Given the weather and beautiful surroundings I don’t miss the miniatures and music yet, though that will change when the weather trainwrecks in the fall. I have my clothing, bikes, lots of books, and a fishing license. Becky’s kitchen and dressers handle me just fine. I have everything I need. How come I still feel like I’m in college though? Even in Madison my little apt had such a small amount of stuff in it. Being at UIC for all those years makes old habits die hard.

The plan is to start the house hunting process in a few weeks. I hope it goes smoothly and quickly, but as long as I start down that path I’m sure it will work out. It seems to be a downhill run once you crack that door open.

Indy 4 was a B-, though I suspect it will get better over time. It delivered though.

No luck fishing the Little Susitna Memorial day weekend. It looks like Sunday we’ll be trying for King Salmon on the Kenai River. I really want to catch one of those beasts. So much tasty meat and so much fight.

My repaired Orbea arrived this morning from Madison! As I’m house sitting in Chugiak for the next 5 weeks I’ll be tearing it up along the Glenn Highway towards Eagle River and Anchorage.

I spoke briefly with Becky that Wednesday night in Fort Nelson, BC. She worried that we wouldn’t make it to Anchorage by a decent time Friday afternoon, and therefore nullify our plans for food and beer at Humpy’s at 5pm. She had slept in Fort Nelson and drove the next day to Whitehorse(590 miles), which was a full day. Hmmm. We wanted to hit Tok, AK (970 miles) – a very lofty goal. Pulling a trailer over 2 lane mountain passes gave us an average speed of 45 mph. We decided to drive through the night until we had to sleep, find a turn off, and then close our eyes. We were gaining lots of daylight everyday so that was a benefit. Also, once we crossed into Alaska we gained an hour. The table was set.

Up at 5 am, we quickly destroyed as much as possible of the waffle continental breakfast and were driving at 6am. We were told that Whitehorse would take 10 - 12 hours by the guy at the gas station. We planned on 12 considering our stop at the Liard hot springs.

At various gas stations and rest stops we had been seeing a Tacoma with a blue tarp in the bed and Alabama plates. It would be ahead of us and then behind us, all the way through Alberta and British Columbia. Keeping track of this truck pulled us eagerly through the roads and towns along the way. We first saw them outside of their truck as they grab the obligatory photo in front of the Dawson Creek Alcan sign. 2 guys and 1 girl – maybe a year or 3 past college graduation. Every town would have us looking for “’Bama” and their blue tarp. As we pulled into the hot springs parking lot we joked about seeing them. Pow, there is the Tacoma! We chatted them up in the spring itself. They had plans for Tok as well, knowing that they were probably going to sleep in their truck somewhere. Turns out they left Alabama Sunday morning – the same day we left Indiana. We felt a little lazy about that, but then again they had no trailer. We wished them luck and pledged to see them in Tok, as they surely would arrive first.

The Liard River Hot Springs Provincial Park is so worth the time to stop and chat with whomever happens to be there soaking away. We talked with a guy heading up to work on a Halibut charter in Seward, AK and a Texan heading back to his summer place in Wasilla, AK after having bought a truck in Texas to drive up. He was sleeping in it as well, though not shooting for Tok (he’s smart). Getting back in the car after a 30 minute soak was very tough and we soon found our journey getting groggy. After some coffee at the next fillup we were back on the attack. The Sirens had not won, yet. We had only tasted the Lotus, avoiding become full fledged Lotus Eaters.

We eventually made it to Whitehorse at the 12 hour mark and began scanning the strip for gas. “There they are!” Alabama was gassing up and we knew we had to gas up there as well. We chewed the rag again, exchanging hopes for Tok and the sweet release of eventually seeing Anchorage in our front windows. A car was filling next to us with Ontario plates and many bumper stickers, the main one being “Use less, conserve more.” She was chatting with a friend while pumping her gas, during which she neglected to see that she overfilled her tank and had about 2 gallons on the cement before she noticed it. She ran in, talked to the kid behind the counter, and it was quickly accessed that the amount spilled was not a huge red flag. Greg joked with the attendant after she left about her bumper sticker, concluding with, “And she’s from Ontario. What do you expect?” Neither of us knows what this means, but we do know they are an uppity province at times, it seemed funny, and whatever – we’re from Chicago so eat it. Chuckles finished, the road called.

The Yukon is truly where the wildlife comes out at dusk – black bear, brown bear, sheep, buffalo, wolves, moose, fox, etc. The wolf was truly the surprise of the bunch. We watched an animal cross up ahead from a small horse farm in the right to the brush on the left. I though it was a caribou with its head bent over when we first spotted it, but as we grew closer it was obviously a wolf. After slowing down and staring off the left, we met him eye to eye as he stood 20 yards away – much bigger and stronger than I would have expected. So cool.

I also cannot explain how unique and frustrating the permafrost is. The way it thaws and freezes over the years plays havoc with the road in ways you would need to see to believe. The 2 lane ribbon stretches out into the Yukon dusk and it endlessly and subtly bobs up and down, forcing the trailer and hitch to bump the entire way. I’m told that over time it may bend your truck frame, explaining why some trucks in Alaska and the Yukon have permanently bent frames that appear crooked as they drive towards you. My truck made it just fine and still moves in the direction you point it.

I was riding shotgun all day, devouring the Milepost and guiding Greg, whom was content to do all of the driving. Around midnight we found ourselves fighting sleep. Heading straight into the perpetual sun down didn’t help either, having long passed the beauty of the enormous and frozen Kluane Lake. According to the Milepost Beaver Creek, YT had a few hotels and was only 30 miles from Alaska, so that was the goal. If we could get a room, great. If not, we could park there and close our eyes. I’m sure there were rooms available, but at 12:30 am in the Yukon you cannot expect to find anything open. At all of the gas stations along the way we would ask for advice on where the next gas station was and how far it was to Tok, Whitehorse, etc. We knew what the book said but also wanted to know what actual people on the road said. Also, there was probably a genuine need to connect with other human beings outside of our truck. The common theme was to not expect fuel or services beyond 8 or 9 pm. Keep in mind that almost no gas pumps in the Yukon or northern BC take credit cards – you flip up the handle, pump away, and then head inside to settle up. So driving late into the night is limited more by fuel than sleep. So, no services are open in Beaver Creek as we expected. We found a gas station with a large parking lot, parked in the gravel on the side of its lot with the truck pointing up a slight incline (Greg knows how to park properly to sleep in a car – Chicago’s finest), and promptly leaned back, glancing at the clock to see it turn to 1 am.

At 4 am I awoke to a chilly 35 degree temperature and the same dusk we went to sleep in. An arctic fox still in white dashed across the road towards us. Greg stirred, felt chilly, and started the truck. We both left the idling truck to stretch, see our breath, and take a leak only to see one of the happiest sites in a long while. The Alabama Tundra was parked in the other side of the lot! How we passed them is beyond me, but they must have been dozing as well and looking for a pull off. I’d like to think they chose this sport after seeing our rig. We flirted with the idea of a note or something on their truck, but quickly decided against accidentally startling them and giving them a heart attack. Off we went, beaming and laughing about ‘Bama.

The truck kept us warm and around 4:45 am we saw the border. I had always heard that at this point in the trip you want to kiss the American soil, and I can assure you it is true. It took about 2 minutes to hand over the passports, answer a few questions, and have our passports returned. “Welcome to America” Yes sir! And thanks for the time change as well. 3:45 am now.

About 10 miles in is a chance at gas but it turns out the pumps were off, even though they did take credit cards. We didn’t have enough gas to hit Tok but that was no problem. We had been carrying 15 gallons of fuel over 3 gas cans so we simply poured 5 gallons in. Perfect.

Tok at 7 am gave us the perfect time to call Becky in Anchorage, already midway through her morning ritual. Yep, we’ll be in Anchorage around noon. After gas in Glenallen, AK we bombed for Anchorage. The weather was now in the 50’s, coffee was in our bellies, and our moods soared as Wasilla and Anchorage loomed.

What followed was a blur of meeting Becky for the storage keys, realizing that we smelt like ass after finding ourselves in the company of clean people, filling the storage unit, returning the trailer, showering/scraping off the road and filth, and finally having a few beers at 3pm while we calmly awaited Becky’s return from work. By 5 we were at Humpy’s eating Halibut, burgers, and pasta. After plenty of socializing with Becky’s friends and family we tramped around downtown a bit before passing out around midnight.

No major mechanical problems befell my 2003 Ranger. I did gain a slight pock mark in my windshield from some gravel on the Alaska Highway. No crack yet, but that will probably happen. Everybody up here has a cracked windshield though. I was told by numerous people that this makes me an Alaskan now. Everything made it safely and here I sit working at my new job.

Victory indeed!

After paying way too much for dinner and the smoking room, we awoke at 5 am determined to leave Calgary, Edmonton and the rest of urban Alberta behind. Give us the wilderness and open road we yearned. Due to Greg’s Hilton card we triggered a free breakfast with our stay, so we lined up for that the minute it opened at 6 am. The Hilton Garden Inn does not have a continental breakfast, but rather a full buffet. Classy, and once again we planned on eating back some of our room rate, which is not classy. We sat down and were given small, laminated menus along with a felt pen. The items on the menu had underscores next to them. “Just write down the amount of each item you’d like and I’ll get it for you.” We read the instructions, which were fairly clear: ‘if you’d like 4 pancakes or pieces of French toast, mark 4. If you’d just like a full serving mark 1. If you’d like the ingredient in your omelet just check it.’ After a few moments we gave him our pre school worksheets and he questioned, “You marked 3 for French Toast. 1 means 4 slices from 2 pieces of toast.” No animosity came from us as we had accepted that Canada so far had rubbed us a little diagonally. Maybe it was us, though I now feel it was Alberta “Oh, 1 order then.” The instructions aside, the breakfast was delicious and we found ourselves outside of the city limits around 7am.

I had heard that passing directly through Edmonton was a recipe for disaster – poor signage, etc. I kind of wanted to get a picture with Wayne, but we opted for a crafty bypass that was in the Milepost. Everything went well and soon we were northwest of Edmonton without even a glimpse of its downtown. This day was going much better than the previous one and Canada looked prettier every minute.

Fort Nelson, BC was the goal that night and we reached it around 8:30 pm.

We did not stop for gas here, foolishly filling up 10 miles earlier.
I immediately regretted that fillup as we rumbled by the Sasquath Crossing.

As I walked in to pay at another place I met Greg walking out, having used the bathroom. “Cover your mouth because the guy in there has tuberculosis.” Sure enough, he endlessly coughed and spit phlegm before he paused to cough on my swiped Visa. His coughing went away when he lit up a smoke as I signed the slip.

As we got closer to BC the scenery got much denser and beautiful and our eyes went on moose alert. We saw a few munching on leaves near the tree line, but that was boring in hindsight. Across the 4 lane highway we saw a southbound pick-up truck emblazoned with official looking decals. It seemed like a county truck. Behind it was about 6 feet of rope tied to the hitch on one end while the other side was tied around the neck of a dead moose. The truck looked like it was moving about 45 mph. We can only theorize as to what was really going on. Maybe the animal was roadkill and getting gamey and the county had to dispose of it. Rather than lift the thing up and handle it he decided to just handle the head before dragging it down a back road? If so, why not just roll it into the ditch? I’m sure I’ll never know just I am also sure I’ll never forget it.

We stopped for the terrific, obligatory picture at the start of the Alaska Highway in Dawson Creek, BC (still in my camera). Greg kept unknowingly adding a Chicago possessive “s” to the name, asking often “how many miles to Dawson’s Creek.” He may also have been thinking of the show. We’ll never know where Pacey and Chicago met in his brain on this account.

When we checked in to the Super 8 in Ft. Nelson we were told they had a government employee rate, but that it was only for Canadian government employees. “Oh, I’m Chicago police.” She thought that was pretty cool and put in the government rate anyway. We then chatted a bit about how her sister is training for the Royal Canadian Mounted Police, and how she had to go down to Vancouver, and what a far drive it is, etc. She was very friendly and we quickly were formulating a new opinion about Canada. She kept hiking up her pants constantly throughout the entire 10 minute conversation. We didn’t know what to do with that. Mark it down as a little memory from the trip. Fort Nelson courting rituals? There would be a continental breakfast the next day with a build your own waffle area. We had yet another chance to eat back our hotel $.

Canada is great, but Alberta is a dud.

We awoke at 6am in Montana and devoured the Hampton Inn’s hot breakfast. The Mitchell Hampton had the eggs and English muffin concoction and the Billings location simply went for waffles – good, large waffles though. They went down easily and bananas were once again stowed away in the cab.

We rolled out at 7am right out on to the frontage road along 90 with the plan of getting on 87 and heading for Lewistown, eventually Great Falls. You could sense some rush hour traffic on the roads, though nothing to worry about. I believe we made it about 2 blocks before traffic ground to a halt. An accident? No. Arrest? No. Road damage/ truck cargo spillage? No. Police activity? It sure looked like it. We glimpsed lights flashing ahead, coming across the highway overpass. Some police cars were parked and a few crawled along the side of the oncoming lanes. Soon a group of people appeared in matching sweatshirts, walking somewhat briskly towards us, surrounded by the police cars. This is 7 am, on a weekday, on a main artery. We’re all clogged and frustrated and trying to divine just what is going on. Soon a plastic, lit torch is revealed through the doddering fleet of black sweatshirts and police escorts. As they grew closer it becomes obvious it’s for the Special Olympics (side story: My late aunt in Northern Wisconsin many years ago received a cold call asking for Special Olympics donations. Her knee jerk response: “No. I don’t care who the hell wins any of those games. Why should I give?”). This produced much swearing from our vehicle. Can’t they do that at another time or another part of the city or down some parallel street that isn’t the main drag? That would be best for everybody. Oh, and the overpass incline tired some people so they were resting on the curbs while the escort paused. Seriously, a different road at a different time. So after our 30 minutes of Chicago traffic memories relived we caught 87 and promptly smiled and beamed as the Montana you always read about rolled out in front of us. It was still a little brown and not as mountainous as western Montana, but the hills, valleys, and scattered pines made it beautiful.

Arriving in the town of Lewistown randomly gave me 4 Sprint bars so off we went calling our parents and giving updates trailed with “ … but I don’t know how long the signal will last.” I gave Becky an update on our progress and she questioned why we weren’t farther along. “The Special Olympics,” I replied plainly and let linger before explaining further.

It is a long, plain drive from Great Falls to the border. That sentence explained all you need to know.

God Bless the Canadians. They have given us Corner Gas and All Buttoned Up. However, they have not given us adequate signage, at least not in Sweet Grass, MT. Approaching the customs stalls we found the far left lane open with a sign stating “autos” and the far right lane open with a sign stating “trucks.” The middle 5 lanes were closed and had icons showing mobile homes, recreational trailers, etc. We had a Ranger with a trailer. What would your lane guess be? The state of Wisconsin made me buy truck plates. A trailer and truck does not make a car. Ergo, truck lane. There were commercial and mobile homes in it as well, so we felt we had made the right choice. Right when you get to the booth you see a smaller sign, visible only when you are that close, that explains “this lane only for commercial trucks.” We pull up to the booth for our sarcasm: “I hope you’re hauling commercial.” The Chicago attitude begins to kick in to match him: “No. You don’t have that on a sign back there. So where do we go?” After a few moments of silence as we attempt to calm down we are told to go to the commercial lot on the right, take this ticket, and go inside. Great. 45 minutes and 3 different officials later we are all squared away and told to look over towards the counter in the center of the room. We are pointed towards a small box with 2 Canadian flags sticking out of it. We see it. “Go press that button. It will give you a pass to get your vehicle out of the commercial lanes.” Nobody is manning this machine, nobody is watching it, and it is most certainly in the public area. That would have saved us 45 minutes if we knew we needed to come inside to push a button in order to drive my trailer full of whatever legally into their country. All in all it could have been longer and we were on our way so no real complaints.

About 30 miles into Alberta we heard a little “ping” and discovered that we then had no turn signals. We pulled over and went straight for the fuse box, finding the popped 15 amp fuse right in the hazard flashers slot. Of course, we had no spares. After digging through the book and deciding that the 20a one in the radio slot would do just fine we were off on our way. We ended up in Lethbridge, AB at the Canadian Tire store stocking up on 15a and 20a fuses along with a plastic fuse puller (I might not always be able to dig out my needle nose pliers). More time wasted.

The plan of sleeping in a hotel beyond Edmonton was gone thanks to the torch, improper signage, and the fuses. Calgary loomed on the horizon and according to the Hampton Inn book we snagged in Billings, 2 locations awaited.

We made it to the Hampton Inn around 8pm and only wanted to eat and sleep and put this day in the past. They’re full, but the place next door is not. Ok, but they only have suites available. “Why is it so full here in Calgary on a Tuesday night? The Flames aren’t in the playoffs anymore.” “Well, it’s always full here during the week.” Huh? Why? We ended up at the Hilton Garden Inn with the final available room, a smoking room. Off we went to Chili’s with plans of getting up at 5 to get quickly beyond Calgary and Edmonton. The scenery was calling us.

So far, Canada, not so good.

I believe we woke up in Mitchell, SD around 6 and attacked the hot continental breakfast by 7. Attacked is the precise description. It’s pretty much a standard continental breakfast with a single hot item – scrambled eggs and cheese on a English muffin. It’s the sort of concoction a bachelor would create. Not the tastiest thing (or the freshest) but we put down several. Being middle class means always finding a way to stretch a free breakfast into a full stomach well into the afternoon. It’s also what makes you figure on eating back some of your room rate, therefore “winning” as my father and I joke about. For example in a related way, if an event is charging for parking and you end up parking close by for free to the given event, you have “won.” Life it seems is an endless string of wins (“we ate back at least $20 at breakfast”) and losses (“they screwed me on parking yesterday. I had to pay”) out of which the south side polack gets ahead. It’s silly when I write it down, but it certainly makes sense in my mind.

We hit the road at 7:30 and made it off the main road towards Mt. Rushmore around noon. Mt. Rushmore is about 35 miles outside of Rapid City and involves some pretty steep roads. Very steep indeed. The descent into Keystone, SD found us on a 9%+ grade going through single lane construction. I believe Greg gained some grey hairs from that gauntlet. 10 minutes later when we parked at the monument the brakes smelled distinctly strong in the air. I dared Greg a $1 to touch the rotor but he turned me down. I got close with my finger but the heat from 2 inches away was warning enough.

The monument itself is awe inspiring. Just attempting to grasp how one goes about even creating and sculpting such a thing is plenty to chew on for me. Hearing all of the foreign languages and different American accents in the air was also fascinating and beyond what I expected. I always assumed Rapid City, SD was a little off the beaten path for a foreign family’s American odyssey. I guess not. Cool.

On we drive praying for Great Falls, MT, but as the afternoon waned we ended up settling for an 8pm Billings, MT hotel. I’m told that downtown Billings is a cool town, but peripheral Billings certainly is not. We drove by the refineries and stopped at yet another Hampton Inn (the breakfast now had a perpetual target on its back so to speak). After some Outback hamburgers and a blooming onion we dragged our bloated guts back to the room. We were a little behind our schedule and had also found that our stomachs were shrinking due to the long days of coffee, granola bars, and water. We sadly left some of the blooming onion on the table. But, our plans now had us getting up at 5am to hit the breakfast at 6am in time for a 630 am pull out.

I'm going to attempt to break these entries into daily postings for each day the trip, but I have a feeling that might be too much to chew. We shall see.

May 2nd was a Friday in Madison whereupon a wonderful night of metal occurred courtesy of Jason, Lora, Eric, and a plethora of Madison's bike community. Jason provided the venue and turntables, Lora the delicious food, and Eric the black, doom, and thrash vinyl. After a viewing of Heavy Metal Parking Lot and Fubar, the records were spun and a good time was had by all. Chatting about Lost, metal, bikes, roller derby, bikes, and "3" was a blast and it made it very hard to leave Madison. I think I made it home around 1:30 am, promptly mopped my apartment, threw some stuff out, and then made it to bed around 3 am (thankfully the truck had been packed before the metal began). I feared sleeping in way past the 7:30 am wake up time, but I was so nervous and eager to hit the road that it was oddly not a problem. I pulled out of Madison around 8:30 and made it to the southside of Chicago around noon, droning and driving to Eric's terrific doom laced compilation cdr's. The afternoon descended into a blur of a 63rd street Torta with steak for the road, picking up 5' x 8' trailer in Crown Point, IN, loading my life into it within a short, single hour, and finally showering before a delicious lasagna dinner from chef Mom. It was delicious without a doubt, even more so given that we knew it would be our last decent meal for a week, minimum.

The plan was to make it to Rapid City, SD by Sunday night, though this was based primarily on Tater's 75+ mph estimates that he usually maintains in his trailerless Yukon. 2000lbs attached to my Ranger will probably not get over 75mph easily, at least not without filleting my miles per gallon averages. We decided to keep it at 65mph for the trip which yielded 15mpg on flat roads and 12-13mpg on mountainous terrain. I did discover a great tidbit in the fact that the IRS will allow you to deduct your move (minus food) for a new job. Yep, the gas, trailer, hotels, and first month of storage space is all tax deductible as long as I am moving for a new job, which I am. Great news to have. We ended up leaving Indiana around 7:30 am on Sunday, stopped for lunch in Minnesota just past La Crosse, WI, and grabbed a hotel in Mitchell, SD. Driving that trailer is so easy. I'll admit it was a bit of a question mark for me and gave me a little bit of concern, but aside from backing it into tight spots and getting it up to 65mph, you never know you're pulling it.

At the end of the first night we found ourselves a few hours behind schedule, but with a reasonable room that included a hot continental breakfast we considered ourselves right on track. Not having to stop for breakfast was perfect. We were already packing our own lunches and snacks so getting a freebie breakfast (with bananas smuggled into the truck) made the day that much faster and economical. We knew we would be grabbing a sit down dinner after we found a hotel so we let that dinner be a goal and guiding light for our day.

Tired and with a belly full of Ruby Tuesday I blogged a single line about Mitchell, SD before crashing out and heading for a 6am wake up. Glancing at the map is very daunting. Great Falls, Edmonton, Fort Nelson, Whitehorse, Tok, and Anchorage are still so far away.

Victory!

Sleeping in the truck for a few hours in Beaver Creek, YT was chilly and uncomfortable, but we pulled in to Anchorage at noon on Friday. I'm unloaded and set but still living out of suitcases. Certainly there will more later but it is nice to be done driving.

Billings, MT

Kind of a dirty town, but beautiful scenery. Soooo many antelope.

Night one. Mitchell, South Dakota

We're off...

As busy as things are expectedly becoming, I still need to find the time to blog a bit and stay excited for this huge move. I have examined my piles of stuff, packed stuff, and jettisoned stuff. I can now happily conclude that it will all fit. That was always a concern, but I believe it is licked. There may even be extra room. Probably not, but I know it will all definitely fit.

The route is being sketched out as logically as can be at this point. I’m trying very hard to be flexible, though I’m certain my plan will change drastically once we get 100 miles into the trip. After loading the trailer on Saturday the 3rd in Indiana, we’ll set off in the early morning of the 4th out of Rensselaer, IN, bombing north through Madison and LaCrosse, WI (Home of the world’s largest six pack). The goal is to get to Rapid City, SD that night, which is about 15 hours. It’s doable, especially considering that we’ll be on 4 lane roads with speed limits of 70 mph. That is really the only firmly planned day. We need to get up bright and early in South Dakota on Monday and see Mount Rushmore before tearing off into Wyoming and Montana.

Monday night it would be nice to get to Calgary, but that might be pushing it. Lethbridge is more reasonable. As I’ve become a bit of a Corner Gas fan lately it would have been nice to drive through Rouleau, Saskatchewan, but time and gas $ dictate staying in the US through Montana. I suspect Alberta looks enough like Dog River to give us a chuckle though. All the days after that will be ad hoc. The Milepost will guide us towards gas and hotels and helps us make the choices as to how much further we can push it before we end up sleeping in the truck in what will certainly be chilly Canadian nights.

Tater has pulled a boat all over the midwest and driven many, many miles at all hours of the night throughout his days and travels, so I’m certain we’ll collectively be able to push some long days and nights if we feel like it. In our Boy Scout days we drove all night to the boundary waters several times, and in our adult lives we’ve driven long days and nights to get our canoes and tents to the trails and fish of the north woods of Wisconsin and Minnesota. We’ve trained for this trip since our youth so to speak. If we need to push through most of a night, so be it. I really doubt that though. I’ve negotiated a start day of May 16th at my new gig so driving reasonable distances with beds to sleep in each night is going to happen. The old plan of killing ourselves just to get to Anchorage by Thursday is now happily extinct.

Getting to Anchorage on Friday will give us the chance to not arrive too zombie-like. We’ll unpack my life into some public storage, dump off the trailer, and hopefully head to Humpy’s for some Alaskan Amber and Halibut and Chips. I suspect Becky will be amazed and fearful at how ravenous 2 Chicago Polacks can be.

Aside from Mount Rushmore there aren’t too many specific sites for us to hit. There are hot springs right along the Alaskan highway in the Yukon, so that will be a mandatory stop. Cameras will be out at all times for the wildlife I’m told frequently wanders across the Alcan. I’m also quite certain that the local population along the highway will get us chuckling and mocking as we travel along buying liters of fuel with toonies. Like all good friendships, we’ll probably descend into our own little world where everything else is funny and ripe for ridicule. I know the reality is that the 2 southsiders are out of place in Canada, but we will sing a song of being the only sane, cool ones in a world of maple leafs. Unfair and childish for sure.

Only 2 weeks!

The pain cave beckons.

Everything is winding down, the boxes are getting packed, and things are finding their way to ebay, Half Price Books, or St Vincent's on Williamson. May 3rd is the go date. A job has been secured, a trailer rented, and excitement is really setting in.

I finally got my chest touched up by Ben at Deluxe Tattoo last week. I needed it since the summer of 2005, but always put it off because Chicago was so close. Well, that will end very soon so it's time to get on these sorts of things. I asked for an additional star along with the touch up on the sparrow. No charge, even on the new ink, and he threw me a shirt as well. Great experience.

Only 3.5 weeks till I'll finally answer the call to great white north.

Embracing the Inevitable

One Way. May 4th.

Lair of the Minotaur are legit, yet tongue in cheek at the same time.

Borne back ceaselessly into the past

Lora and took a nice field trip to Chicago last Saturday where tattoos were had by all. A quick trip in and then we scurried back safely over the border back to cheese country, dreaming of Mountain Dew and Miller Lite all the way. I always wanted something old school on the rear of my calf, and have always liked sacred hearts. But sacred hearts are a bit ubiquitous, which isn't necessarily a problem. You don't see as many Immaculate Hearts, so now one more is out there. It is full of scabs right now but soon will look clean and bright. There is a bit too much blood on the photo above so a better picture will need to come soon. Addictive as ever, as soon as the inking was done I felt the need to plan the next tattoo. Alas, Kim is far away and therefore so is my sleeve.

...

I often feel I was born too late, and that the things I love are not nearly modern enough for these times -- a bit of a Luddite. Yet, I pay the bills happily writing Java and Struts websites. Alea iacta est.

I have recently found myself back on a kick of horror and crime old time radio. If this at all interests you, we are truly living in a golden age. The shows are all out of copyright and fit into 6MB mp3 files that are all over the net for free. It is such a wealth of free happiness if it's your bag. I've found the Whistler and The Witch's Tale to be a blast and well written, while The Unexpected is a bit of a constant dud. I am amazed at how often the horror tales are filled with gore and grim endings where the villain gets no comeuppance. The connection to early 50's EC horror comics is clear and sharp, and you can sense the upcoming codes that would limit the negativity and darkness of those shows. I am a little surprised by the fact that these shows have less of a moral compass that what is on tv today. Interesting.

Looking at my timesheets at work, I notice that I haven't had a weekend off since the new year, which is annoying to say the least. This project is a beast and our deadlines are completely unrealistic, yet we soldier on. Therefore, everyday of the week is pretty much locked into my work schedule so I end up getting up around 6:30 regardless of the day. This happened today despite my best efforts to sleep in, so I decided to head to the 7am Tridentine Easter Service. Beautiful and powerful, and it is always great to hear Latin -- I could feel much of it coming back to me.

Listening to old time radio and attending Latin mass. Sounds like the 1930's, yet with expensive bikes and Doom metal playing.

I'd write a bit about Gary Gygax passing, but Scott already nailed it.

I have always been a huge fan of Mavic wheels. I'm not sure if this started from friendly recommendations or from how burly the Elites were on my Raleigh Prestige. Either way, I make an effort to keep buying these French wheels. The SL's were sweet, but the rear one developed cracks on the rim after about 10K miles, which is ok -- it still hurt as those wheels were very pricey. Late last summer I replaced it with the Elite above and man, did I get a bad penny. After about 300 miles I had to true the thing after every mellow 30 mile Paoli loop. What a dud. I had even marked the errant spoke with a sharpie because it was the chronic culprit. Today I received my wheel back from the Mavic warranty folks and they have completely rebuilt the wheel, with all new spokes nonetheless. Perfect. Those frogs are ok.

I ride my cross bike around town whenever possible and have found that my track bike never gets ridden. It has literally sat for about 6 months. Felt like a waste so I listed it on craigslist, a Milwaukee buyer arrived with some $, and off it went. It will get ridden now, which is the important thing, along with me owning slighter fewer things, which is always good. All bikes must get ridden otherwise they need to be candidates for homes where they will get ridden.

The new Vampire Count army is out and pictured above. Wonderful and better than ever. I really like that everything in the army is now undead. That will help the ghouls a great deal. New tactics....

Hills and Valleys

I really try and not become hooked on tv shows (“it steals my time and wastes what I’ve learned!”). The idea of structuring your week around tv is certainly true for many people and I don’t think there is anything inherently wrong with it, but I guess the problem creeps in when it ends up driving your week rather than fitting into your week. At any given time I have 3 or so can’t miss shows, which isn’t too bad. I really should dump the cable and just watch dvd’s but I’m not that strong and I love TCM too much. I am proudly hooked on Lost these days, but also somewhat ashamed of being unable to miss LA Ink. The soap opera element of LA Ink annoys me endlessly, but seeing Hannah and Kim from Chicago just kill it every week artistically, while also appearing far more personally balanced than the walking train wreck and LA stereotype Kat is, makes it well worth watching. The dichotomy between the worth of both shows was never clearer than last week when LA Ink moved to 9pm on Thursdays. I watched a ridiculously stellar episode of Lost at 8pm that involved very challenging scientific concepts and plot threads to be juggled before dovetailing into a truly worthwhile emotional payoff, only to click over to LA Ink and begin getting annoyed at the Kat silliness while feeling sad that Kim is in LA and will not be able to sleeve me. It is sort of like watching football or hockey – I get to swear at the tv whenever something dumb happens, which is often and enjoyable. It’s a guilty pleasure that I allow myself, though having it right after Lost reveals just how guilty it is.

---


Wow! Jill finished the Iditarod Invitational. 350 snow covered Alaskan miles on a Pugsley. That must truly be a case of your clothing and equipment being worth far more $ than your bike.

The Blues spanked the Hawks but the game was fun. High energy and very physical. A split second after the puck drop at the start of the game a fight broke out. Division rivalries are great.

I have no idea if it is indicative of a large or small turnout, but at 7:05am I was ballot #17, meaning that 16 people had voted in the previous 5 minutes. At least it was along my walk to work. It's nice not to detour in -3 degrees and windy.

The roads here have been particularly bad since Sunday's ice/snow storm. It seems like one of the following is true to some degree: Madison has decided that there is too much salt on the roads and has thus switched to gravel exclusively, they have run out of salt, or they have run out of salt and don't feel like paying a premium for more. I know that when it gets bitter cold salt is useless, but Sunday was in the 20's so salt was a decent choice. I vote for the last theory. I assume that the city feels like it only needs to limp through the storms at this point as they hope a melt, however minor, is just around the corner. Theoretically yes, but the 10 day is still solidly below 32. Hockey is going well, cycling not so much.


Anchorage averages 70 inches of snow, Madison 42 inches. The record for Madison was 76. We're in the mid 80's right now and counting. We might as well shoot for the hundo. Yep, it's milder in Anchorage.

I am 100% caught up on Lost and hopelessly hooked. I hadn't planned on this, but here I stand.

The Blackhawks are finally on tv tonight here as the play the Blue on VS. The Hawks are definitely having an exciting year, but pesky St. Louis always is annoying. I appreciate the St Louis pork steak, but Chicago wins the pizza battle hands down. And beef sandwiches.

Tom was completely correct. When renting Lost Season 3 dvds, even though you only get to take new releases home for 2 days, go ahead and rent 2 at a time. 8 episodes in 2 days is almost not enough.

How do people wait 7 days between these episodes?

My gym is, among many other great things, a place for serious Strongman competition training. The atlas stones, milk cans filled with cement, and log press are always available for training. Sunday morning there was a large group from upstate training hard on all of the equipment, bearded and grunting and yelling away as they timed each other on each event, trying their best to simulate actual competition. You could tell that they were serious, but that they also were not around such accurate training equipment back home – they were giddy in being able to use the exact stuff they would be using in competition. I’ve seen plenty of people train with coffee or Red Bull alongside them, but this crew was training with Mt Dew cans everywhere. On Wisconsin!, indeed. I’m sure the strongmen in IL aren’t training this hard.

Hockey Names

One of the many great things about hockey is the names -- saying them, memorizing the pronunciation, etc.

On the Blackhawks now:

Jonathan Toews -- 'taves'
Dustin Byfuglien -- 'buff-lin'
Nikolai Khabibulin -- 'hab-be-boo-lin'

And a fav from the past:
Lyle Odelein -- 'oh-de-line' -- not a tough one to pronounce, but fun to drawl out.

At least a foot it seems. Work closed at 1pm so I caught up on a movie from Turner Classic Movies (Wings of Eagles) and did some reading as well. Walking to work is great on days like these.

I resisted for years when it came to buying a cell phone. It seemed like some deep surrender. Silly. I’m a computer scientist but a Luddite of sorts. My phone started to crap out the other day and I went running to Sprint for a new one as fast as I could. Can’t live without it. Just like the cocaine monkey.

Madison is not Chicago, which is usually great for me, except for today. I miss Paczki day (along with Check Please!, Chi Tung, and beef sandwiches)

I finally developed 2 rolls of film and pushed them up to flickr. The link is to the right.
Geez, one roll had June photos on it.

Cognition Caps made me possibly the greatest cycling cap ever, and a winter one as well. Solid blue with an embroidered Alaskan flag. One of a kind, fits my bigger than most head, and the perfect design for me. Lyle and Kelly have really come through on this one.

I ended up with some nice Mountain Bike shoes at the swap. An excellent deal on a decent shoe. I am now ready for next fall’s cross season. The toe cages kept me from entering more than one race last fall, but that excuse is now gone. I just need to get used to SPD pedals so I don’t eat it on the barriers, though that will happen at some point anyway.

…

More and more things are leaving my little life via ebay, half price books, and St Vincent De Paul. Aside from making a little coin, I endlessly love watching things leave without a new thing replacing them. I’m not lining myself up for a monastery by any stretch, but it was fun to prune %20 from my record collection and feel like a little less of a hoarder. Sorting through the stacks of straight edge records mostly produces smiles and nods and thoughts about playing them asap. However, many records were bought because they were a measly $6 and somebody said they were good, or because it was so easy to get first pressings from Victory. I’m glad (and my pocketbook is also glad) that people want to check these records out, but I am amazed how many people in Europe are emailing me for shipping rates. Those kids are starved for mid 90’s hardcore.

Unbroken, Skarhead, and Victory picture disc comps? Sell ‘em all.

Alone in a Crowd 7”, GB 7” first pressing, Negative Approach LP, and Confront 7”? Not for all the tea in China, buddy.

A new problem is starting to crop up though. While searching ebay for a sense of what a given LP is worth, and more importantly if it’s even worth listing, I keep coming across random records I want. They are few, but man I really want them.

Mercyful Fate ‘s Live From the Depths of Hell, Straight Ahead, Negative Approach 7”, and Side by Side 7”.

It’s a short list and I do have a boot of the Straight Ahead record, but the itch remains for the original.

After working a handful of holiday weeks in a row and taking a random day off last week, this full work week is a killer. Almost over.

Tomorrow is the big bike swap here and I’m hoping for good luck. Two years ago I ended up with a pile of clothing for almost no $, while last year I snagged some lubricant at a cut rate and some Campy gloves and knee warmers for a fair price. That Campy stuff is never being given away, but at a lower price it can really be worth it. Without a doubt it is very well made, but I try and say that while avoiding the obvious Campy cult implications. No tattoo for me yet.

My family doesn’t eat crab that often. It’s expensive and fancy and before you know it you haven’t eaten any in years.

My parents remembered an all you can eat Snow Crab feast with another couple at Red Lobster some years ago, but all they were able to recall was that it was either when they were dating or soon after they were married. At the very least it was before I was born, so make that 32+ years ago. They focused on the fact that the staff would not take away the shells as to shame you into eating less, which did not work. Apparently they filled the table, looked obnoxious, and happily ate lbs of crab.

I think as a teenager we had a 1/2lb of King Crab as an appetizer somewhere, which isn’t much more than a taste between 3 people. Not a major event, but I do remember the taste.

All the more reason for my freezer’s liberation of its 20lbs of crab to be mentioned. For Christmas Eve 3 of us ate about 4.5 lbs of crab, which was impressive. I think being non-fancy Chicago Polacks helped. It was such a delicious treat that we just devoured it like savages. I should have photographed the pile of shells as a testament. The other 15 lbs is at my folks and they can do whatever they want with it, which will probably be to slowly eat it over the course of a year or more to best enjoy it and not get used to the taste too much, lest they develop and fancy tendencies. I hope to eat crab for a third time someday before another 15 years passes.

A pretty dull post I know, but all I can think about this week is how tasty it was.

Best Production Support Request Ever.

The headers accessed for all of our web pages when the print style sheet is used had an incorrect phone number for the company. Turns out it was a phone sex number. Modifying 20+ jsp pages has never been so fun.

A weekend always feels like an accomplishment when I take things to the thrift store and half price books to get rid of, and nothing new comes to take their place. That is an endless goal of mine: more going out than coming in. It is a losing battle though, but a good goal to have in mind. Exceptions are made, namely for small stacks of comic books each Wednesday and bikes that are endlessly, absolutely needed.

Anyone ever run across any Thomas Ligotti books? I recently read a graphic novel interpretation of some of his work and I have been duly impressed. People often refer to him as one of the best kept secrets in the last 20 years of horror. I really dug what I read and want to get the original prose, but his stuff seems to be strangely out of print, yet Dean Koontz is readily available. Blah.

A decent attempt

Didn't come up with 12 pictures, but I think it came out ok, and I did obey the 12 hour rule. It was certainly fun.

12:00pm, moving my cousin within Madison. It turns out that when it is 3 degrees out and you allow the lid of a grill to swing towards the ground (while carrying it on its back) the hinges will snap off like plastic. This was not my doing, but the grill and all its new individual pieces were moved in my truck nonetheless. Welding will be attempted, but a new grill is more likely.

1pm. Madison, west side. Notice the superior snow removal here. It was about 10 degrees by this time! Felt very comfortable.

3:30pm, within the move yet again. A very boring picture, but a memory of the hour long process to connect the dvd player to the tv. The tv is a huge first generation HD CRT, and is probably 150lbs at least. It barely fits in the entertainment center so there were many strained attempts to slide it out while someone furiously fiddled with the cables. The true problem was that the plugs on the rear of the tv kept coming loose so every time it gave us dvd audio and video it would cease doing so after we slid the behemoth back in. Boring picture, maddening memory.

6:30 pm and off the 70's and 80's themed party. I opted for tightrolled jeans. Sadly it was very easy to quickly produce a tightroll from memory.

9pm at the party. Homemade Bailey's(left) and Brandy Slush(right). Very Wisconsin.

11pm. The white elephant gift I received was a vintage, unused, mint boy scout canteen. Very nice.

12:45 am and time to head home from the party. Cold and snowy.

More than just some egotistical assertion that I feel the world would be better off knowing, I’m stating my intention to give the 12 hour photo project a shot this weekend in the simple hopes that I will be guilted into the responsibility of finishing it knowing that I had made that intention known out loud (so to speak). My weekend isn’t the busiest or most fascinating, but I will be bumming around town more than usual so it is as good a time as any to give the project a shot. The snow and ice here are quite charming so if nothing else the pictures will feel like December.

The always prolific Up In Alaska is on it.

The fair amount of snow and ice we had dumped on us Saturday forced me to linger around my apartment and get all kinds of little things done. Sadly no cycling occurred, but I did catch up on things here and there. I was forced again to confront how much stuff/crap I own. I wish I could get rid of piles and piles of it but that would be very difficult and it probably won’t happen anytime soon. Collecting comics and older AD&D stuff is by its very nature a practice in hoarding, which I ideally try to avoid. Aside from the collectable aspect of it, I have an extremely difficult time getting rid of something that can be read that I know I have enjoyed in the past and very well may enjoy in the future. Dumping comics and the like for meager dollars on ebay just cannot replace the possibility that I may find someone whom really would love to plow through runs and runs of DC titles. Eh, my kids can throw all that out after my funeral someday. I have no trouble jettisoning items here and there, but I have the toughest time getting rid of things that can be read. Makes sense to me, while the piles of long boxes tower higher and higher (as do the Lite boxes filled with fiction).

The main thing that happened Saturday was finishing my Lost season 2 dvds. I fell into that all too easy trap of just “starting” another episode with the theoretical plan of only watching 10 minutes, just to figure out which person’s back story we’ll be getting. That approach is a lie. I zipped through the last 6 episodes in no time and now eagerly await season 3. I have so many theories about what is what, what is being critiqued, which ideas are on trial (psychology), etc. I’m sure I’m very wrong about most of these things, but the ride is certainly enjoyable. A few years ago Wayne constantly pitched Lost to me with exciting and salivating gestures. I probably said something well intentioned about not wanting to take on a new show, that I felt that if I wasn’t on it from the beginning it was a futile move, and that the idea of a kooky desert island didn’t sound that interesting. Seeing that the show was successful enough to sustain a few seasons, along with the announcement that the creators do have a well defined goal and that the network has renewed the show to ensure its completion, was enough for me to spend the time to jump in. I feel gun shy about jumping on a new show without knowing it will be canned 2 months down the road, so more often than not I don’t jump. I end up watching much less tv this way and instead watch more dvds, which seems better for me. I much more appreciate being deliberate with my time rather than surfing into something. 108 minutes.

Not everything fits in a Chrome bag

I don’t dream as much as I would like. I daydream and let my mind wander a great deal when it comes to plans, hopes, and goals for the future, places, vacations, and the like. But I get very little activity when I am sleeping. I have always heard that chugging a glass of pickle juice immediately before bed produced some active dreams, but I can’t remember if it actually works, though I’m certain I tried it many years ago after Rodcore mentioned it to me. If it works, would it be a result of a lot of salt in your system? If that is the case, could a glass of saltwater do it as well? Or is it a magical density of something within a cucumber generated after it has been pickled, kind of like what crab apples do to moose if they are consumed after fermentation? I don’t know, but I’d like more than the bi weekly, random dream/nightmare.

When people came by my cube on the 16th they saw my suitcase and asked where I was heading. I answered that I was heading to Alaska over Thanksgiving week to beat the heat of Wisconsin. I had planned on some hiking, maybe skiing/snowboarding, and lots of Anchorage exploration. Frequent flyer miles made the trip very reasonable so I wasn’t too uptight about not skiing if the snow wasn’t perfect. Well, Anchorage didn’t have much snow but they had enough for the slopes to open up the 17th, only to see them closed mid week when the temps shot well above freezing, even hitting 45 one day. All the snow melted away and the slopes closed as avalanches become real possibilities. So yeah, I literally got away from the Wisconsin chill by heading to Anchorage.

Before the big melt on Wednesday, Becky and I did some excellent hiking on Monday. The waterfall near the Eklutna River was beautiful, though I’m certain the picture will not do it justice. It is very hard to photograph a fairly narrow waterfall in the midst of snow covered trees and rocks. I gave it a shot though and hopefully those will get developed fairly soon (it is far too easy to just let the undeveloped rolls pile up on the shelf). I believe that roll started in my camera back in June. The Eagle River nature center is also the start of many trails (I’d really like to hike from there to Girdwood someday – a perfect one night backpacking trip). We opted for a short hike and took some excellent photos off of the observation deck. Underneath the large deck is a fast moving the stream that offers up a great top down view of salmon come summertime. Hiking in 20 degree, snow covered Alaska is very beautiful and fairly comfortable. I’m glad the melt came on Wednesday and not Sunday.

The Double Musky is ranked as one of the best restaurants in the country, and from the descriptions of people that have eaten there I wouldn’t deny it. We were told to get there early as they do not take reservations and a 2 hour wait is not uncommon, order a steak or something Cajun, and expect to pay plenty and not feel swindled in the slightest. So we found ourselves a little dressed up and heading to Girdwood for dinner Friday night, only to find a piece of paper in the window with magic marker stating “closed till 12/12.” The website had none of this information. I know it is a family place but the website is well designed and therefore presumably often updated. Nah. Very disappointing and strange. How are they not open given the impending start of the ski season at Alyeska right up the street? I would have expected them to take a vacation right before the snow came, but alas. So we went to Alyeska and had a very tasty, yet odd meal. We saw people getting fresh bread and inquired about our own.

“Oh, the bread isn’t very good. It gets stale right after it leaves the warmer so I figured you wouldn’t want any.”
“Well, we’d like to give it a try.”
“Oh, then I’ll bring some.”

Yeah, the bottom of the bread was a little too hard but it certainly was edible. Good meal (crab stuffed salmon for me – steak for Becky), but odd. Next time we’ll definitely have to call ahead to the Double Musky and make sure the drive is worthwhile.


More pictures will be coming soon, and there are certainly more tales to be told. I ended up walking off the red eye at O’hare Sunday morning with a box containing 20lbs of crab (fresh from Norton Sound) and an additional 15lbs of salmon and halibut. My balcony currently contains my ice trays and freezer packs as my freezer is now a perfect block of seafood. I should post a picture of this before the crab legs head to Indy for Christmas and get replaced by piles of venison on my trip back through Chicago. Endlessly… a block of meat.

Ahhhh, Alaska

sad stuff

As Into the Wild opened in Madison last Friday, I had a chance to catch up with it on Monday night. On a side note, the Sundance theatres are very fancy and a bit pricey. Good experience, but if a given movie was playing somewhere else I’d probably lean away from Sundance.

I’ve always been fascinated by Chris McCandless and had read the book in the Spring of 1999 before my first trip to Alaska that summer. I remember becoming completely enthralled in his story, while also seeing clearly the positives and negatives in his life. He lived gloriously according to his own driven id, while simultaneously, selfishly amputating his loved ones with no notice in the name of burying pain and promoting rebirth (I understand his home environment and parents’ flaws were magnified a bit for movie, but how could one really be sure? Even if they were that bad, his selfishness is still indictable). My mother read it as well and was a little frightened for my summer trip, but I assured her easily by reminding her that I had been to BWCA and numerous other high adventure places and had the knowledge to do just fine in Denali with a backpack.

I remember feeling (probably arrogantly to a degree) that I had perhaps a bit more outdoors experience than Chris, and certainly a greater sense of what was wise and unwise in entering a wilderness, particularly one as large and unforgiving as Alaska. I guess I have a healthy fear of the untamed wild, which Chris did not. This makes me pleased and sad. I admire that about him and find it fascinating, but also find it immensely foolish and unwise, and certainly nothing to emulate. It has been surmised that he essentially desired to commit suicide by walking out with the supplies he carried, and it’s hard to disagree. He wanted to disappear into the ether like Enid at the end of Ghost World (which I always read as a metaphorical and near physical suicide) and he got his wish, though we certainly know he intended to re-enter civilization and re-connect with friends and presumably family. Alaska plays for keeps though and while it is easily one of the most beautiful places on earth, it is extremely unforgiving. Alaska has taken many wide eyed adventurers and easily will continue to do so. There is a line in The Blair Witch Project that got a chuckle in the theatre where a character asserts that by merely walking in a straight line they would eventually run into a road, as America has been thoroughly sliced up as to make endless meandering impossible. True, but not so true in Alaska.

While the book loudly sung Chris’ infectious wanderlust and joie de vivre it always tempered it alongside the facts of his story and sobering comments from Alaskans as to the reality of many people from the same cut of the cloth that the Great Land endlessly claims for good. He made many mistakes that could have been easily foreseen – bring a map, more experience storing meat, location of the hand pulley down river from his aborted return route, etc. The film doesn’t really mention these things, but they are certainly there if you stare hard enough. In his attempt to cross the river and return to civilization and human contact he maddeningly confronts the raging river that was much smaller in the winter time. The film succeeded in this sequence so powerfully that I actually though he might make it even though I already knew the conclusion well (much in the same way United 93 fooled me into the possibility of a happy ending), but it neglected to show the audience the existence of a hand pulley less than a mile up river – a fact he would have known if he had brought a map. I see no benefit in insult to injury, but it is a useful fact, though one that probably violates the sainthood Sean Penn seems to ascribe to Chris. While the book loved Chris and clearly painted his warts, the movie seemed to barely mention his warts, yet always with clear justification for their existence. I’m sure Sean Penn will disagree with that statement (and maybe punch me over it), but it definitely came across that way.

Geez, I sound like I’m really bashing this movie. I hope that is not the case, as I loved it. The direction and story structure were excellent. Several shots so perfectly used the widescreen, particularly the opening shot. You could clearly visualize how small we are in relation to the wilderness. I believe strongly that there are aspects of Chris’ life worth emulating and celebrating and that his story is well worth telling. Some of it should be cautionary, even damned in the ultimate analysis. I don’t agree with any beatification though, and probably agree with most of what Alaskans conclude.

Up in Alaska is slightly on the other side of the issue, but I can’t say I disagree with her at all.

Here is a well written, concise Alaskan point of view from a somewhat doppelganger of Chris’.

Another Alaskan pov.

Ultimately, Alaska is that magnetic of a place. I wholeheartedly agree with Chris on that one.

Hal Holbrook practically stole the move when he appeared.

Cross last weekend was ridiculously fun. I'll certainly race again this season, though probably not until mid November. My schedule is a little tight, but I will hopefully race in some snow.

I seriously loved it. I didn't finish last and did better than I had expected. You never really know where your fitness is until you test it in an actual race (I don't know if alleycats count. I guess they do, but then again that is really up to the individual. I always backed off in them in the name of safety knowing that I had no shot at winning to begin with.). I know where my fitness is at Ford's Gym because the numbers on the iron never lie. Pedaling is another story. I was able to ride with a few groups and even pass a few people on the later laps. I suspect my strength is in holding a pace over time rather than turning it on early, late or in the middle. I'll get some shoes soon and give it another shot soon. Being in the pain cave never felt so fun.

It was a road weekend, which was a good choice given the weather.

No pies this week but Into the Wild is finally in Madison so I'll need to see that and satisfy my Alaska jones for the time being. Hopefully there will enough snow to ski up there at the end of November.

I can't wait for Cognition to come out with winter caps. Can they work the Alaska flag into a blue wool cap? We shall see.

I could plead laziness in this low posting frequency, but that would not be completely true (thankfully). I was in a cabin in St Germain, WI fishing for a week with my Dad. The plan was expressly hoping for many Walleye to come home in gallon sized ziplock bags, but as these things go there was not even a single Walleye caught. Lost lake is not very large (500 some odd acres) nor extremely deep, so it was perfect for our smaller boat. We had enough time and knowledge to work the lake properly but alas no Walleye. We did catch fish everyday, albeit smaller ones some days (Smallmouth, Northern, Musky, and even a large Crappie). I donated $20 at the Lac De Flambeau casino, my father won $21, and we both put a hurt on the prime rib buffet. What is it about the northwoods that means prime rib? I don’t know. We caught some fish on a quiet lake, slept in a cabin right on the lake, didn’t have to go to work, ate prime rib and fish fry, saw the full blown fall colors, and I read the Bell Jar. No complaints at all.

We did have a large, ripe apple tree next to our cabin so I went home with about 10lbs of apples. I’m not sure of the species, but they are edible and tasty. It’s probably not the tastiest apple pie in the world, but for a first try I think I did just fine. Melissa in Portland would be so proud of me. Coupled with the blueberry pie I made in July I am genuinely on a streak. A streak of what I do not know for sure, but suffice to say I suspect some tattoos might be needed to balance it out.

My first cyclocross race is tomorrow. Lord, have mercy. I now become initiated into the pain cave.

I have started Lost Season 1 dvds. I am so hooked.