Neighbor Sue, proudly showing off her new cat and best friend, BB.

January 11, 2019 - Friday evening 

22 degrees/cloudy/calm winds

Pentoga Road

Oh, and proud she is! Sue is our next door (and only permanent) neighbor who lives three-fourths of a mile to our north on Pentoga Road. 

Sue's had some hard luck this past year. First, her husband of over fifty years, John, passed away last spring, then her faithful companion, an eleven year old kitty, had to be put to sleep not long ago. 

The previous owner of BB, an elderly lady in her 90's, was extremely ill and worried what would become of her best friend. Sue had just lost her kitty, so it all worked out. Who says God doesn't work in mysterious ways.

Today was an exercise in futility. I probably should have gone back to bed after returning home from my morning walk.

Though only in the teens, the conditions were perfect for, as Dad used to say, "Pickin' 'em up and layin' 'em down."

One of my favorite area barns

 I returned home and decided it was too nice of a day to spend in the shop. The Clam/sled was hitched to the Tundra, the equipment made ready, and off I went.

It was wonderful, riding along, the snow flying beneath me. I rode through the boat landing, out onto the lake, and right into a puddle of slop.

I've encountered slush, or as we say in arctic Alaska, overflow, often in my life. It occurs when the weight of the snow pushes the ice down far enough to force water onto the surface. Last week's accumulation tipped the scales in favor of the water.

I ran into overflow often in years past. The worst was while crossing a large river between Kobuk and Ambler, Alaska. Running at fifteen to twenty miles per hour, the track of the Tundra began to sink into the slush. No amount of power would lift the machine back onto the surface of the snow.

In the end, I had to plant an ice axe into a crack in the ice and use every bit of a hundred foot rope attached to a winch to pull the machine onto solid footing. 



Today wasn't nearly as serious, but it brought up those and other memories. Thankfully, even though I was towing a heavy sled, by applying a full throttle while leaning far over the handlebars to put more weight on the skis, I was able to bring the snowmobile back to a solid surface.

Unfortunately, the Clam/sled didn't do nearly as well. By the time I sloshed through the slop, everything inside was coated with slush.

Once I arrived back on land, I turned the Tundra towards home and forgot any thought of fishing.

It took over an hour to clean all the equipment and empty the Clam of slush.

Since taking the snowmobile out onto the lake was temporarily out of the question, I dug out the old sled that I made several years ago, loaded it and the fishing equipment into the Blazer, and took off for the lake.

I waded out through the overflow with the sled in tow and finally set up.

There was just one problem. Water had been splashed onto the sonar/fish finder and gotten into the buttons. The only solution I could think of was to use the small heater to melt the ice that had formed. 

It worked. The sonar was marking fish within minutes.

After all the work of splashing through overflow, cleaning equipment, wading through slush, and thawing out the electronics, I caught one measly bluegill.

Some days are diamonds, some days are coal. Today, I mined coal.

The high point of the afternoon was a visit from Yooper Brother Mark. I had just arrived home and we had a good time catching up on life. 

Sargie opens the Vision Center again Saturday morning. I'll go for my walk then plan to spend the rest of the day in the shop. The fish had their chance and as far as I'm concerned, they missed a good opportunity to be caught.  Besides, there's still that pig and owl waiting to be carved.

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

So are the tales from Pentoga Road...