A Life Wasted

House Hunting

Mount Redoubt kept erupting so its ash made traveling around the Kenai difficult, or at least hard on vehicle motors, so in January we decided to do a little house hunting north of Anchorage. We'd now lived in Alaska for four months so were beginning to figure a few things out. One of those things was that the Kenai Peninsula was tame and civilized by Alaska standards so we wanted to consider the option of living in the "real Alaska." The first house we looked at was in the Big Lake area. This is north of Wasilla where Sarah Palin lives, and just south of Denali, the mountain that people not from Alaska called McKinley until last year.

The house we went to check out was down a long dirt road, though we couldn't see the dirt for the snow, which thankfully was packed down well enough to drive the van on. The home owner had marked the road where the house was located with a for sale sign or we would have never found it. The snow bank went all the way to the road and was higher than our big van. It was like driving in a narrow maze. We found the house by the for sale sign but couldn't see anything for the twelve foot high snow bank. We'd driven half a day to get here so I wasn't willing to give up. I told Mary to wait in the van with the kids and I'd see if there was a way to reach the house. All bundled up I climbed on top of the van then made foot holds in the snow bank to climb the rest of the way. Once I stood on top of the snow bank I could see the top of the two story house. But just the top. It wasn't far from the road so I slowly walked towards it. Ten feet from the house I fell through the snow.

Being buried in snow was a new experience. I wasn't actually buried since could I see the gray sky above me, but I couldn't reach it. I tried to climb out, but at the bottom of the snow it was wet, so all it did was fall in around me as I tried to climb up. After the first attempt I was wet, cold, and shaking. Realizing this could be a serious problem I stopped and forced myself to think. I was no more than fifty feet from the warm van, but that was an impossible distance. Mary wouldn't hear me if I called to her, but I wouldn't call her if she could because if she tried to get to me she would become trapped too. I wasn't far from the house so I figured that was my best bet. I began digging through the wet snow in what I hopped was the direction of the house.

Not sure how long it took but I eventually reached the house. By design the house had an extended roof over the front door that served to prevent snow from blocking the front door. So thankfully the door was free of snow. The owner had said the house was unlocked which it was. My eyes immediately spotted a wood burring stove with a box of large kitchen matches on top. I managed to open the stove's door and saw that it was loaded with paper, kilning, and wood. Set for a quick light. This was the standard way Alaskans left their home. Even a cabin that the owner wasn't returning to in the winter would leave the stove ready to light in case some one needed emergency shelter. I was very grateful for this thoughtful tradition. All I had to do was to strike one of the big wooden kitchen matches and hold it to the paper and I'd have fire and life saving heat. After getting my gloves off I managed to open the match box, which wasn't easy as I was shaking uncontrollably. What I couldn't do was hold a match in my hand. My hands shook so much that it was impossible for me to hold the match. Every time I managed to pluck a match out of the box I would drop it to the floor. Not sure how long I tried to pickup one of those matches, but I began to understand that I was going to freeze to death fifty feet from my family in our warm van and standing in front of a stove that would save me if only I could strike a match.

I was thinking how strange it would be for my life to end this way when someone stepped in front of me, took a match and effortlessly lit the fire. It wasn't until after she began rubbing my hands and talking to me that I realized it was Mary. My Mary. My Wife. Come to save me. Mary became worried when it took me too long to return so she followed my tracks. Being smarter than I, Mary crawled across the snow to distribute her body weight rather than stand and fall through as I had. After I'd warmed up enough to think I asked what she thought of the house. "Too much snow," she said deadpan. Without question Mary saved my life that day.

Having decided to stay with the tamer parts of Alaska we found a house to rent south of Soldotna in the small community of Kasilof. That single story house was also covered with snow, but at least we could drive up to it. What I remember most about the house was that our kids cut steps into the snow so they cold climb up to the roof, where they had made a slide from the roof all the way to the ground, ending near a snow fort they had dug out. They made their own winter wonderland It looked like great fun and it sure burned off their energy.

Settled now, I began to consider what I was going to do for a living. I rejected any suggestions that I do computer work. No doubt I could have and made great money doing it. My computer skills were still in high demand in the lower forty-eight states, up here I could have named my price. But I'd move to Alaska to get away from computers so that is what I intended to do. It didn't take me long to decide that I wanted to buy a commercial fishing boat. It seemed a good fit for my skills on the water and my desire to do something Alaskan. Being a commercial fisherman would definitely qualify as an Alaskan experience. Mary supported my decision so I began looking at boats.

I'd lost some of our money to Red, plus commercial fishing boats cost more than bush planes, so we didn't have enough money to get started. I still had an opportunity to sell my personal agency software in the lower forty-eight states, so I made a plan to go down there and sell enough that I could afford a commercial fishing boat. Mary didn't like me leaving the family, but she agreed to this because she knew I really wanted a boat. Since I was going to do computer work anyway, she tried to get me to consider doing it in Alaska. But I wasn't willing to make that concession. Somehow doing computer work in the lower forty-eight didn't feel like a violation of my Alaska experience, but doing it in Anchorage would ruin it for me. It was March. By this point Redoubt was still erupting so air travel was iffy, but flights were getting through. However, since I didn't have a credit card renting a car in a strange town was difficult, so I decided to drive. We had now lived in Alaska for six months yet this would be my fourth trip down the Alaska Highway. This time I'd drive it alone, which is a completely different experience.

I wasn't in a great hurry and understood it would be more dangerous driving the great distance alone so I stayed at a motel in Tok, which is the last place in Alaska to stop. Then I drove to the spot before turning onto the Cassiar Cut Off and got another motel room. Then I woke early and drove the Cassiar, hoping to run into Peter the hitchhiking East German but didn't see him. The rest of the trip was long but uneventful. I spent nearly a month in the lower forty-eight states doing various jobs. By the end of March I was headed home with enough money to buy my boat.