The first drip of the year. Let the maple season begin.

March 31, 2014 – Monday

31 degrees/cloudy/calm

Pentoga Road

The following might be of some interest to the teachers who read this.

I just finished grading a bit of research conducted by one of my graduate students at the University of Alaska – Southeast, and learned that the starting salary for a first year teacher in Alaska is around $43,000 per year with $2,000 yearly increments until the 8^th to 10^th years of teaching, at which time they increase by $4,000 a year until a maximum of approximately $83,000 is reached. And yet, Alaska has a difficult time retaining its teachers.

Lest you click your tongue at such high salaries, remember the cost of living and transportation in the Last Great Frontier. One of the biggest reasons I retired to the UP of Michigan was because my retirement dollar goes about two to three times further here than in Alaska. With that equation in mind, the starting teaching salary would only be around $14,000 to $20,000 a year with a top of $25,000 to $40,000 at the end. Doesn’t look nearly as attractive now, does it?

By the way, Alaska teacher salaries aren’t the highest in the US. As I remember, California, Illinois, Wyoming, and several eastern states and are higher. Alaska doesn’t even rank in the top five.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch…

This is just a small portion of the old spiles and spouts I've collected over the years. Most are from the Civil War era or the turn of the last century.

Sunday was maple day on Pentoga Road. I started fairly early sterilizing the spouts, cutting twine, and making a slit in the gallon freezer bags that would eventually be hanging on the spouts. Once outside, it took only a short while to remove the tubes and plastic spouts used the day before. By noon, thirty-five trees were tapped in the north woods.

Sisal twine used to secure the bags onto the spouts

A small slit is made on the upper side in which to insert the spout

Sargie and I took a break and traveled into town to run a few errands. It was a beautiful day, in the upper 40’s, sunny and bright.

We began tapping the south woods around mid-afternoon. Walking was difficult in the soft snow so I suggested we climb aboard the snowmobile. I drove, Sargie rode behind. She’s more trusting than I’d be.

We’d gone less than fifty feet when I got off the trail and the snowmobile tipped to one side, dumping us in four feet of very wet snow.

Sargie was laughing, as was I, until I felt the water seeping through my clothes and told her to hurry and get up. She couldn’t. I was lying on top of her and the snowmobile was lying over both of us. We were in such a tangled mess that all we could really do was lay there and laugh. The more we laughed, the more helpless we were.

At one point, Brutus thought he’d help and walked up, stood over me, and started licking my face, which resulted in stern rebukes and even more laughter.

The snowmobile was eventually righted, but we managed to get it stuck later on. As of now, the machine is in the woods where it will remain until colder temperatures arrive and I’m able to drive it home.

There was an exhausted pup and two very tired kids on Pentoga Road last night. 

Brutus had been at my side all day, protecting me from the countless maple monsters that roam our woods. At one point last night, the delicate pooch fell asleep while sitting on the floor with his head on my lap and almost fell over.

Sargie works early today. I’m going to do my five mile walk, then after, get the stove pipe and pans for the boiler that have been stored up in the rafters of the barn. I’ll keep what sap has run until there’s enough to make the first batch of syrup, a hundred gallons or so. With only sixty-five taps, I won’t have to boil daily unless there’s really a hard run. Collecting should only take an hour or so twice a day.

It’s time to get another cup of tea, think some deep thoughts, and listen to the news.

After all, a man’s work is never done.

So are the tales from Pentoga Road…