On June 1, Carmen, Weatherby, and I flew down to our cabin on Alaska’s largest lake. Illiamna is just slightly larger than the State of Rhode Island. Even more than in Anchorage, summer was missing. The trees were without leaves. Snow patches were the only distraction from the after-winter brown and grey land. Nighttime temperatures were in the 30’s and daytime barely reached forty. We had some airplane problems and I found myself working on the engine in a driving sleet storm the second morning. Weather like that after one of the most brutal winters in decades can wear you down; depress you into wondering if summer will arrive at all. One wonders why people stay in that environment.
We flew home two days early figuring that at least we could prepare our yard for the possibility of summer. The next day, a cold wind and showers made it necessary to break every couple of hours and warm up. Conversation shifted to an upcoming trip to visit friends on their houseboat on Kentucky’s Lake Cumberland where temperatures are in the mid 80’s. The last eight months make Robert W. Service’s story, The Cremation of Sam McGee make sense. When you’ve been cold for months, even your funeral pyre might feel good.
But in the Far North, things can change in a moment. The next morning dawned sunny and by noon, the temperature reached 60 and was still climbing. By three in the afternoon it was warm enough to enjoy a cold beer on the deck overlooking our yard and do a little research on final titles for the new book. We looked up just as a black boar and sow wandered across the yard headed toward our neighbors. Both were fat, totally out of place for bears just out of hibernation.
Minutes later, the bears were lounging between our houses, each so focused on devouring some treat that Weatherby’s barking didn’t even phase them. A moment later the neighbor roared from his back door, pellet gun in hand, pestering the bears with pellets and shouting at the top of his lungs. Apparently, this was the second time the Biggest Black Bear I’ve Ever Seen, and his companion found his garage and raided his freezer. Discretion being the better part of valor, the bears tore up his yard leaving. That was probably a good idea because the neighbor could just as easily reached for his 30-06 rifle loaded with 180 grain noslers.
OKAY, I thought, this is a summer in Alaska thing. Carmen just smiled. “Sunshine, bears, we just need a couple more signs and maybe we can believe that summer is coming.”
Which gets us to this morning when before nine, a cow moose crossed our road followed by a newborn calf on wobbly, spindly legs. Only minutes later Carmen saw two roly-poly fat coyotes only a couple of hundred yards from the house. It reminded me of rolling my Chevy Camaro off from an Alaska ferry years ago and stepping out to stare at the mountains, forest, and crystal clear ocean. I said the same thing then that I just thought. I am in the right place and no matter what, I’m staying.