July 9, 2021 - Friday morning

52 degrees/clear skies/calm winds

Pentoga Road

No time for words today as I overslept by three hours. I awakened at midnight and couldn't go back to sleep. Growing tired of trying, I got out of bed and came downstairs and gulped a couple of Tylenol PM's. The next thing I knew, the clock was showing 7:30.

At any rate, Hambone was a busy boy yesterday with Grandma Sargie and I running to keep up. From getting a lesson on how to safely shoot a pellet gun to using a high pressure washer and catching frogs, Hambone was a busy boy. The highlight of the day was going kayaking with Isabella and bringing Yooper Brother Mark and Pawpaw along for the ride.

It was a fun day so here it is in pictures, not necessarily in any order.

Time to go for my morning walk. On today's agenda? Why, more of the same!

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

So are the tales from Pentoga Road...

 

A tree heavy with wild plums in Pentoga Village

July 8, 2021 - Thursday morning
48 degrees/clear skies/calm winds
Pentoga Road

Unfortunately, most of the plum trees are barren, probably as a result of the hard freeze we experienced in early May that saw temperatures plummet into the mid teens. Most of our area trees were in full blossom so there'll be little fruit this year of any kind, including apples.

Wednesday was a different kind of day. Light rain persisted in falling throughout the morning. I managed to sneak in my walk between showers and arrived home unscathed. With the recent rains, Black Eyed Susans are beginning to replace the daisies that have adorned Pentoga Road for the past month.

We made a quick dash to town for Sargie's Coke with a stop at the local hardware store for a couple of needed sale items.

Back home, with the rain ending, Sargie and I finished working up the firewood from the second ash tree. It was time to move on.

The two wheeled weed trimmer is used to remove any weeds or brush so I can easily work around the base while cutting down a tree. It, along with the power saw and other equipment, was loaded into the trailer before leaving for the woods.

I was a bit fearful, not really fearful, but greatly respected, the next tree that was to be sawed. The large ash, like many, was perfectly symmetrical at the top, had no lean one way or the other, and was harder than a rock. I asked Sargie to come out with me, just in case, as I made a large notch 2/3rd's the way into the trunk, back cut on the opposite side, and used a wedge to finally make it come crashing to the ground.

In the end, I missed my mark by about ten feet, but the tree was down and I could begin cutting it into chunks.

The rest of the day was spent working alongside Sargie, cutting and hauling. Just one problem. The tree, even sawed into workable lengths, proved too heavy for the old tractor to lift very far off the ground. I often had to tease it a foot or two into the air before shoving a chunk of wood underneath so it could be sawed through.

If the tractor had a soul, I'd have felt sorry as the antique machine creaked and groaned while lifting the heavy trunk.

We slowly made progress. 

It was late afternoon before the final piece was cut. Sargie took a load to the barn while I loaded the bucket on the tractor with larger pieces and followed. We'll finish hauling what's left later today.

Later, in the shed, I quit counting the rings on a bottom piece of the tree at 125. It wouldn't surprise me if the tree was 150 to 175 years old, possibly more, before it died. Located on the main trail that runs through our property, one that was used by the local Indian tribe for their annual spring and fall migrations to the local lake, I'm sure the old ash could have told stories not written in any history books.

I did a bit of "cyphering" (as Sargie calls it) and figure that tree, alone, will supply enough firewood to heat our small home for nearly a month this coming winter. Even in death, it was a valuable addition to Pentoga Road.

It was time to meet Mel, Macrea, Cheeks, and Hambone for the Grady exchange. We had a quick, but pleasant, conversation before loading our seven year old chatty cargo into the car and returning back home.

The big news is that, I swear, I heard Cheeks say her first words. Yep, she said "Pawpaw." 

Darn straight and I wouldn't lie about something that important.

Well, that, or she might have just been blowing bubbles, but I'm pretty sure she said Pawpaw. 

If you don't believe me, just ask her.

With a ban on electronics, playing with a phone or any other electronic devices, INCLUDING watching Mine Craft videos on youtube, we had a wonderful evening. Chatty Cathy, I mean Hambone, showed us a candle he'd made at daycare and was delighted when Grandma Sargie struck a flame to the wick.

Other than my morning stroll, I'm not at all certain what's on today's agenda. Hambone and I may get a load of sand for the pond. Yooper Brother Mark made mention earlier that he and Isabella might come out and we'd go kayaking, something that's become an annual tradition when Isabella's visiting Grandma and Grandpa. She and Hambone have been buddies since they were babies. Whatever we do, the sun's up and it's time to get the day started.

So much to do, so little time.

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

So are the tales from Pentoga Road...

 

I have it pretty good, eh?

Sargie's driving me to the work site on the four wheeler.

Only 223 days and I'll be at Amacolola Falls, Georgia, with my pack on my back.

July 7, 2021 - Wednesday morning
53 degrees/cloudy skies/calm winds
Pentoga Road

Thanks to Trail Boss, Scott, for continuing to whet my hiking appetite and sending a few pictures my way. Scotty and his lovely bride, Becky, reside in the suburbs of Atlanta and were out for a ride in the mountains of northern Georgia.

It's been over fifty-five years that I've dreamed of standing in front of that plaque and touching it before finally taking the first of the five million steps needed to reach Mt. Katahdin in Maine, 2,200 miles to the north. 

Thanks Scott. Initially seeing the pictures, I felt like one of Pavlov's dogs and nearly drooled in anticipation.

In other news, I'm especially proud of sister-in-law, Debbie, who recently added Missouri to her wish list of wanting to run/walk a 5K in every state in the union.

She and Sargie's brother, Pat, who served in Vietnam, were in southwest Missouri for other reasons and Debbie participated in the patriotic 5K while in the state. True patriots, Debbie remarked that no one turned his back on the flag during the ceremonies. 

It's obvious that the real champions, though not Olympians, were those who participated in the 5K to honor our country.

Josh sent me a recent picture of my grandson, Cody Bear, well, it's just Cody, but Grandpa will always call him Cody Bear. It just fits.

It appears my granddaughter, Ellie, is having some luck catching bullheads. 

Continuing on:

Ah, small town America on the Fourth of July. It doesn't get any more patriotic!

Yooper Brother Mark sent these pictures of Isabella in the Iron River Fourth of July parade. Mark and Sheri's granddaughter takes baton lessons in Wyoming and participated with our local group of twirlers. 

Sarah and Isabella are back from Wyoming for a month long visit.

And finally, from Thorne Bay, Alaska, my former student, principal, and surrogate daughter and good friend, Joanna, sent this picture of the boys, Dawson and Carlyle.

Tuesday's news from Pentoga Road isn't nearly as exciting. Leaving for Green Bay after my morning walk, Sargie and I enjoyed our two and a half hour drive south before making the usual rounds of Costco, Sam's, and Aldi Foods. We arrived home late yesterday afternoon amid a beautiful rain and much lower temperatures.

It's time to strap on the hikers and go for my morning stroll. With forecast highs in the low 60's today, I'll be working up firewood. Hambone's to be with us for a couple of days, so you know there'll be nonstop action galore! I heard through the grapevine that we might be working/playing around the pond and even go kayaking on the lake.

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

So are the tales from Pentoga Road...

Taken from or near the summit of Springer Mountain, Georgia, the starting point of the Appalachian Trail.

My friend, Hanna, who is preparing for a solo trek on the Bob Marshall Trail in Montana in just a few weeks

July 6, 2021 - Tuesday morning
59 degrees/clear skies/calm winds
Pentoga Road

I first met Hanna several years ago by the Brule River. She and her husband, Joe, were crossing the bridge when they stopped their pickup truck and rolling down the window, a man said, "Hey, you're that guy who writes the blog!"

It was then and there that new friends were made. From downstate Appleton, Wisconsin, Hanna and Joe own a camp not far from Pentoga Village. 

It wasn't until later that I learned Hanna was a long distance hiker. Since, we've exchanged emails and/or conversations built around our love of backpacking.

Hanna sent an email the other day saying they were going to be at their camp and would there be any time to get together. For a fellow hiker? You bet!

And that we did. Carrying her full pack weighing almost double of what I carry, Hanna and I hiked my usual route, to the Brule River Bridge and back yesterday morning. We talked of everything hiking and in the end, with no small amount of envy, I gave her a hug, bade her goodbye, and watched as she drove down the road.

I'll be anxious to see pictures and hear stories of Hanna's eight day solo expedition through some of Montana's most rugged terrain.

In other news from Pentoga Road, well, there isn't any. With the temperature reaching near 90 and humidity to match, I played the age card and made the conscious decision to remain somewhat inactive on Monday. Well insulated, our home stays fairly cool during the day, so Sargie and I remained mostly inside.

We did take a two hour drive, enjoying the comfort of an air conditioned car, and last night, we fiddled around in the garden and watered the flowers. 

Failing any current activities to write about, I randomly selected a blog entry from January 26, 2011. I have thousands of blog entries of my Alaska days dating back to before the Millennium, of my adventures, trials, and tribulations. I've been sorting through some in preparation of writing the book (a reflection back on Alaska as I hike the Appalachian Trail) and thought you might enjoy this one.

Napaskiak is a Yupik village located along the Kuskokwim River in SW Alaska. It's remote and unfortunately, like many Alaskan villages, has its pitfalls, mostly due to alcohol abuse. Still, children are children and I enjoyed visiting my intern as she navigated her way in world of education.

Napaskiak is the red dot. Note: my home native village was Kotzebue, located far to the north, not shown off the top of the map. My other home, Sitka, is located in Southeast, on the islands far to the south. I covered all the state between the two, including supervising one intern who was located almost to the far end of the Aleutian Islands.

Hope you enjoy the following:

(My apologies for the links below not working. The Anchorage Daily News has changed hands, formats, and even names, several times since the original blog was posted.)

Napaskiak's 3rd graders. Note the little guy, second from the front, with the apple sticker on his upper lip.

January 26, 2011 – Wednesday evening
5:49 PM
Bethel, Alaska

I didn’t write Tuesday night. I was too tired. By the time I crawled into my sleeping bag, neither my fingers or my brain would work. I was sound asleep before 9 PM.

I arrived in Bethel slightly behind schedule, but as it turned out, that was the least of my problems. It seems the bush planes weren’t flying. There was a combination of snow, freezing rain, and a hefty wind interfering with my original plan to get to Napaskiak.

What to do? I ended up talking to an Alaska Air agent in the AK Air terminal for an hour and a half. She was raised in Kiana, Alaska, one of my most favorite villages from years ago. We knew all kinds of people in common and enjoyed chatting, but that didn’t solve my problem.

I was either going to have to find a ride out to the village or try to secure a room in Bethel, something that can be difficult to do this time of the year, especially when all flights are cancelled.

I borrowed the agent’s phone and attempted to call Napaskiak School. The phones weren’t working in the village. Shrugging my shoulders, I walked next door to Yute Air, a very small bush plane terminal, let them know I was ready should the weather improve, and settled in for a wait.

Hmm, Yute had wireless internet? I wheedled the password from a pretty and young Yupik girl and I was soon online.

The weather turned worse. I was almost ready to start calling around the village for an available room when I decided to try the Napaskiak School phone one more time using Skype. This time it rang through.

Classtime in Napaskiak on Wednesday

I got hold of my buddy, Joe, the school secretary, who agreed to come up river and get me. I pay Joe the same as I would a bush pilot, a good deal for him and beneficial to me. I would much rather have the money go to someone in the village than a company.

I dressed for a very cold snowmobile ride, but was delighted when I saw Joe drive up in a fairly new pickup truck. I was taken to Napaskiak in luxury right down the middle of a very frozen Kuskokwim River. Asked how much ice was covering the water, Joe said there was around three or four feet, enough to hold a fleet of tractor/trailers.

We passed several pieces of construction equipment coming and going to various villages while reroute. The villagers take advantage of the frozen waterways to travel fairly cheaply this time of the year. What is a very remote village many miles out of the hub city of Bethel in the summer months soon becomes a town on a fairly busy highway after freeze up. People think nothing of traveling a hundred or more miles and more on the ice to purchase groceries and other needed supplies.

A contrast... a heavy-duty forklift being followed by a snowmobile

A highway on the Kuskokwim River. Tree branches serve as markers to keep travelers who are caught out in blizzards from getting lost.

I found Napaskiak much as I left it in late November. There are so many things that are sad, just really sad. A few in the village were still talking about the boy from Kipnuk who was caught out in a blizzard last week and was found frozen to death. http://community.adn.com/?q=adn/node/155458

We were talking today about a small child who was killed by sled dogs last May in Napaskiak. http://www.adn.com/2010/05/21/1288936/child-killed-after-wandering-into.html.  It’s just a sad place in many ways.

It reminds me of how sad Brother Elmer gets when he talks of, while attending Mt. Edgecumbe High School in Sitka, he received a call from Kotzebue saying his baby sister had been mauled and killed by sled dogs. When Elmer tells the story, it still causes him great pain, even after almost sixty years.

My intern is doing wonderfully in the high school. Despite low attendance by many of her students, she hangs right in there and works hard to get the most from her students. At times, it can be a thankless task, yet she hopes she might get a full time job in the village school next year. I’d say her chances are pretty good.

Father Vassilie (Russian Orthodox) and my intern Seraphima. Both priests of the village church are also employed in the school.

I left the village this afternoon with Joe, the secretary, and rode in style back to Bethel. Tonight I’m at the local hotel with plans to be at Bethel High School by 8 in the morning. I’ll be visiting my intern there. Danielle teaches freshman English. This young Yupik woman is a dynamo teacher who is also 8 ½ months pregnant. We’re going to make a roadmap for her to finish this year. She’s got a lot of work ahead in the next 6 months, but she’s capable. 

Naturally, there are blizzard warnings out for Bethel beginning tomorrow afternoon. My plane leaves at 2 so I’m hoping I might sneak out of town before it happens. If not, I’m liable to be here for the next day or two... or possibly a week or two. It happens all the time.

I’m going to try to get this uploaded and settle in for the evening. I am at the Long House Hotel, the nicest place in Bethel, where the rooms are clean, a no alcohol policy is strictly enforced so it's generally quiet, and unfortunately, the internet is very slow and not entirely reliable.

So for tonight, all is well in Bethel, Alaska…

Its the end of the day and SCHOOL'S OUT in Napaskiak!

Back to Pentoga Road:

So there you have it. I should catalog all my writings, boxes of paper and computer disks filled with them, but I doubt that will ever happen. Maybe someday after I'm but a distant memory, a grandchild or great grandchild will take interest. If not, like so many things that seem valuable in our lives, they will simply disappear and fade off into the sunset and that's okay. Life moves on and I've had a good one.

Speaking of moving forward, it's much cooler today. I've got a few miles to put on under my feet before I tackle yet another large ash tree.

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

So are the tales from Pentoga Road...