Bellingham or Bust Episode Two: Dawns The Day Before

[This is the second episode in the Bainbridge to Bellingham or Bust series, edited from journals written prior to and during a solo kayak trip undertaken June 2014, from Bainbridge Island to Bellingham.]

who dreams, of

the fruition of dreams,

prepares,

perspiring over papyrus

accruing filthy lucre,

for the way

forward.

< : June 10, 2015 : Ketchikan, Alaska : >

Wellness

When drains the stores of joy, set out for the steely depths of an alloyed ocean.

Sunrise, Fossil Beach

My Country Tis of Spruce Island

My anticipation of the extended July 4th weekend was so eager, several people corrected me when I sputtered about plans to go kayak camping - on Thanksgiving Day. My mind thought that this holiday I was so thankful for couldn't be named anything else. Thursday night packing became Friday morning packing, but the boat was geared up and paddling north by noon thirty.

Seagulls standing off a rock in Ouzinkie harbor, the dome of the
village's Orthodox Church peeking out in the distance. 

Bellingham or Bust Episode One: Por Que Adventure?

[Though the Yukon series is already begun, and not yet finished, another series calls louder for explication. One year ago from tomorrow, construction of my kayak had just been completed and I was camped on Bainbridge Island, awaiting the rising sun to herald the start to a 130 mile solo paddle to Bellingham. 

In five parts (give or take a handful), please welcome Bainbridge to Bellingham or Bust - culled and edited from journals written in early-to-mid 2014, prior to and during the trip.]

14.May.2014 | Ketchikan, Alaska

​"When the great innovation appears, it will almost certainly be in a muddled, incomplete and confusing form. To the discoverer himself it will be only half-understood; to everybody else it will be a mystery. For any speculation which does not at first glance look crazy, there is no hope."

-Freeman Dyson​

Close Encounters of an Alaskan Kind: Two Early Outdoor Tales

Way back in 2012, I had the opportunity to ramble quite a bit, despite being deeply mired in the morass of graduate school. After a summer working on the Blackfeet Reservation (a story for a later installment), I flew to Fairbanks, Alaska in mid-August, where I would be working through December.

Anton Larson Paddle and Old Woman Loop Hike

John Cannon photo of a segment of Anton Larsen Road. More of his work here.

Yesterday, Tuesday here in the Emerald Isle, the sun was in full-bloom. I skipped the afternoon hours of labor to take full advantage of this rare flower of light. After strapping the boat down and tossing gear in the car, the 16 partly graveled miles out to Anton Larsen bay went by quickly.

Puffin Island Paddle

Launching from Mission Beach, sailboat visible between Bird and Holiday Island

Long Island Loop

Thanks to Seward's Folly and the State of Alaska's wisdom, Monday, March 30 was a paid holiday for me, and a floating holiday for the kayak. Set in at Mission Beach around 12:30p, out between Woody and Holiday Island, dodging fishing boats in transit to their fisheries.

An afternoon's route

Burma Road Run

Finished tasks for The (very chill) Man (who employs me), and waltzed outside to discover an afternoon kissed with sunshine. Powered the wagon home and slipped from my zoot-suit into warm running gear. Out the door again and off to Burma Road.

Yukon Episode Three: An End To Walking; Welcomed Flotation

Mary and I hitch from Fairbanks to Eagle, float a canoe to Circle, then hitch back to Fairbanks. 
This is episode three. Read the first and second episodes.

August 2013 - Yukon River

---

After the meek Pio and effusive Gabrielle disappeared from Jack Wade's Junction in a cloud of gravel dust, we cinched our packs and headed up the road towards Eagle, 67 miles onward at the terminus of this high gravel route. Two miles in we stopped to have a seat and appreciate the expansive view to the east of the Canadian border. Despite an unseemly amount of scanning the horizon, that swath of hewn trees marking the boundary between Canada and the USA did not show. We wondered if the practice of clearcutting along the 49th parallel is not perpetuated at the Alaska - Canada border, where we were observing, along the 141st meridian west.

Standby until March 23

Programming Note

For those who partake of this blog, the author is departing his rock in the pacific for warmer climates. Fear not, for your fearless poster shall return and commence the recollection of tales not told, including a continuation of the Yukon Journals, on or about March 23. Until then, and of course after then - be well.

Yukon Episode Two: Handy Hitchers Head Hither

Mary and I hitch from Fairbanks to Eagle, float a canoe to Circle, then hitch back to Fairbanks. 
This is episode two. Read the first episode.
August 2013 - Yukon River
---

Our next lift shot past at the five mile marker, then turned around to make the retrieval. He had just roared down the highway, rocketing past a string of motorcycles and our raised ride hooks. Twenty years old and on the run from the law, our driver said he had picked us up hoping to accrue good karma. He told of his current heartache, and the tempest he was now caught up in, of rotten luck and worse associations. 

Yukon Episode One: A Tale of Two Trotting Taters

Mary and I hitch from Fairbanks to Eagle, float a canoe to Circle, then hitch back to Fairbanks. 
This is episode one of five.

August 2013 - Yukon River

---

It seemed like we started talking of floating the Yukon within 15 minutes of first meeting each other.  Maybe a bit later, but certainly a point of mutual attraction that winter of 2012, that we both wished to set out on the big river with all we would need for a week of slipping down the slippery spine of the last frontier, rolling downhill on this ancient highway. 

People  looking for home came up this self-same river long ago, in small groups, but only so far at first. Years later, on the eastern terminus, across a great swelling of lakes backing up to tree-pitched mountains, a different sort of prospector started down the river, en masse, a rowdy herd.

Transmitted: Yukon Update Inevitable

ANNOUNCEMENT - YUKON JOURNALS SOON TO APPEAR

Kind readers, bored perusers, and lost strangers, be ye known of the following facts:

The author has unearthed and edited a torrid stream of words compiled in the days following a journey he and Mary took down the Yukon, way back in the halcyon days of the year of our Alaska 2013. Within this mysterious tale, two souls hitchhike 400 miles out to that glorious river, where they uncover a canoe stowed just for them and, within its fiberglass enclosure, set out upon the liquid highway

A week of wandering will be contained within six episodes. Look it for, long for it, bate your breath and save space in your mind, for it will surely be a treat to savor for the ages.

The first episode will be promptly published, replete with photographic proof, just as soon as the editing is complete.

Near Island Afternoon Jaunt

Yesterday, a day forecast to be blustery and cruel to the outdoor enthusiast, was at first dark and somber. Eschewing footworn paths, I joined a friend at a birthday party for a 2 year old, held at the local brewery. Sip on all that incongruity with the same lingering contemplation you would accord a delicious, dark porter. Pints were quaffed as minions ran helter-skelter, faces smeared in birthday cake, little impressionistic canvases made manically mobile.

North off the Near Island Bridge

In Memoriam: Jonathan Collins, 1984 - 2015

I met Jonathan in 1997. We were both early-teen boys, and quickly found friendship in the world that revolved around that small church in rural Western North Carolina attended by both our families. I was the newcomer, and he welcomed me into his influence.

Black Hills Ghost Goat

I once drove cross-country from North Carolina to Yellowstone in a van modified for comfort and class. I slept in the back of this van and bounced from it each morning to leap about the land I was growing to love with each additional destination, each further mile traveled.

The 4WD living room, and haven from four-legged fiends.

Coastal Termination Trail

Still under the weather, my sickly soul was drawn outside by the big blooming sun, bold between the blue sky and teal waters. Tunes in my car and a short, slippery eleven miles north later I was hop-scotching across the frozen creek bank towards Monashka Bay.

Pillar Mountain Drive

Strep throat has strapped me with sickness, ever since the night of my last hike. Sequestered to home ever since, except for brief forays into the office when my co-workers were absent and thus protected from infection, I was rapidly tiring of my seclusion.