Alone at Camp – November Journal Entry

Posted on December 31, 2017 by Keely

November 4-5 2017
6:00 PM

It is my first night camping alone in the arctic – or in the winter, period, I guess. I want to be someone who can do this, but I am a little nervous. So far, so good, though. It was zero when I got here. It is five below now.

As proof that I am really here doing this scary, wonderful thing, I offer this detail: – I could not make this up – the tent smells like a candy shop because of the half inch of hazelnut coffee I had to melt out of the kettle before I could make tea.

I am not far from home – town – Arctic Village. I can hear dogs, snowmachines, the occasional chainsaw. Before he left on the plane, Geoff checked with me that I would have the gear to feel safe: a radio, a satellite messaging device, a .22, bear spray, a flare gun, an axe, skis, and enough firewood for days ready to go at camp (thanks to an enthusiastic wood-chopping friend). I am probably safer here than I would be in my house. Daazhraii is with me, too. Still, my heart rate has been just a little elevated since I got on the snowmachine in the dooryard.

9:05 PM

I am doing well. I was surprised, when I got to camp, by how easy and comfortable I felt. I still had a hard time relaxing for a while, but it comes easy now. I am boiling water for dinner and overheating in my long johns. I have opened the windows to cool off, and I can see the full moon from the head of my cot. The moon and snow brighten everything. Through the window by my feet, I can make out one light from someone’s cabin on the edge of the village. I heard a lot of sno-gos earlier, but there aren’t so many now. Daazhraii stands guard outside.

4:55 AM

I am making it! I wasn’t sure I’d be brave enough, but the cheerful, cozy little stove and the quiet, reassuring company of the pup are enough for me, it seems. Boy, though, the dog can really stink up this little tent with his farts. I think that’s what woke me up. It’s snowing a little. The moon is a bright spot in the haze.

11:00 AM

I feel a little silly for how I parked the sno-go in the getaway position last night and conserved the batteries in my headlamp in case I should need them. Now I am drinking tea, starting another book, and beginning to think of doing some work at school this evening, after I go home. It’s hard not to wonder what I was so nervous about to begin with.

My First Frostbite!

Posted on December 4, 2017 by Keely

Daazhraii and Geoff among the caribou tracks on the lake at high noon

I guess I had a gap between my goggles and my neckwarmer when I was pushing the SWBravo’s land speed record (30mph) on the lake this weekend. There was this stabbing sensation like a needle pricking repeatedly across the bridge of my nose and I had to stop and slap a glove against it. Sure enough, it’s glowing all red and sore today. Photo on 12-4-17 at 4.09 PM

This fall has been the hardest since my first year of teaching, I think. There are conflicts with the district about a variety of things (including, stupidly, exactly how far away from the school we need to keep the dog), conflicts with community-members about my friends visiting, and conflicts with older students who feel that they have outgrown school. I am also a little personally conflicted: I want to apply to grad school, go and get a Masters in Creative Writing (poetry?!), but I don’t want to leave Arctic.

There aren’t resolutions for any of these, but camp is a good release valve, and I am getting comfortable with the chainsaw now, out there in the woods “rampaging around destroying woodpecker habitat” as Jesse said when he was visiting.

Geoff and Jesse, crossing the creek into ANWR

The kids, on the other hand, the elemiddles at least, are doing great. They’re reading and writing much more willingly and skillfully than they did at the beginning of the year; They made incredible hand turkeys for Thanksgiving; They look forward to our daily chunk of Harry Potter read-aloud; They seem glad to be here and willing to bear with me a little more than they used to.

Tonight is the first sewing night at the council. It’s hard to get myself moving at the end of the day, but I’m really looking forward to learning a little beadwork and hanging out with some people who aren’t either under the age of twenty or Geoff. Wish me luck.

home alone poem

Posted on November 3, 2017 by Keely

My dog comes to the door when I put on my boots

“okay” I tell him,

and he shadows into the night with a bound.

I walk out of the dooryard.

My headlamp lights the path, the block.

I raise the axe and bring it down

Spruce snicks into the sugar snow.

I reach for another log

And, as I straighten, I am stopped

Half-hunched

Staring into green-blue-lit eyes

Last winter, I stared into the eyes of a wolf

Just these eyes on a frozen night lake.

It looked its fill.

Green light lunges and snaps overhead.

Stars prickle on the back of my neck.

The spruce trees shiver.

I exhale.

Then, easily,

my dog steps into the glow of my headlamp.

His eyes melt again to chocolate.

Inside, I let firewood clatter to the floor.

He steals a piece to gnaw

gets bits of bark on the rug.

No stranger.

Daazhraii-joring

Posted on September 21, 2017 by Keely

That’s a mouthful, eh?

fall colors junjik

I have been running on the Mountain Road most clear evenings since school started. While my feet pound and my breath rushes I can let go of the day and let my mind watch the colors change on the tundra. I get to measure daily how far the snow has crept down the flanks of the big mountain at the head of the valley. Daazhraii free runs with me and, in theory, provides some warning in the case of dangerous wildlife. Mostly he lollops along with his enormous tongue hanging out and plunges around in the kettle ponds terrorizing the ducks, though now that I mention it, I realize the ducks have gone.

Last night I put on my hip belt and the dog sat sweetly while I fumbled with his harness. I clipped a bungee line to him and then to me, and Geoff took off on his bike. “Daazhraii, come on bud,” Geoff called, and we were off for the very first time.

It’s called canicross: dog assisted cross country running. It feels like flying. Daazhraii hauls with his heavy freight dog shoulders, chasing the bike, and the bungee rope stretches and pulls on my hip belt. I glide, my arms and hands free to fly.

We ran our usual route, and I didn’t feel that tightness in my belly that means I’m really pushing myself, even though we were moving faster than I usually jog. Daazhraii was focused and bouncy, a little surprised to be allowed to pull, but delighting in the freedom to guide our speed.

I was giddy. It’s fun and freeing and glorious, and it takes teamwork and energy and focus. We practiced “whoah” and “hike”. Once he gets used to pulling (he’s been trained not to pull on leash, so it’s an adjustment for him) we’ll work on “gee” and “haw” and “on by”. I can’t wait for ski season.

He’s a little young to work. You are supposed to wait until a dog is about a year old and his bones and muscles are fully developed before putting him to work in harness. Daazhraii is only ten months, but he isn’t working too hard or too often, and I want to make sure to practice “whoah” while I can still dig in my heels and stop him. On skis, that is going to be a lot harder.

What joy, though. I couldn’t keep from grinning, and Daazhraii ran laps around the driveway when we got home to the cabin, just to let some of the happy fun fizz off the top. daazhraii august snow

Shazheh ahshii

Posted on August 30, 2017 by Keely

Home sweet home, August 19

Home sweet home this morning, August 30th.

I think the title of this post means “It’s snowing at my house” in Gwich’in, but I make no promises. We’ve had snow on Nitsii Ddhaa, the big mountain at the head of the valley, since last Saturday, but snow here at just 2,000 feet was a surprise.

It’s early, just August, and I was hoping to pick cranberries for at least another week. I made a great haul – a quart in less than an hour – up at the Junjik this weekend, and I was hoping to put up a gallon for chutney and cranberry bread. I’m almost sure this means the end of the blueberries.