White Mountains Trance

Feb. 20

Then the cabin was calm.  I never realize how quiet Matt and I are together sometimes until it happens abruptly.  With Jim's return to town, we were left alone for the remainder of our cabin trip.

Thanks for the fun trip, Jim!!  It was great to see you!!

Matt and I soon set about on our daily tasks.  He almost leaped in excitement when he talked about getting firewood.  Even though it was -30F outside, he bundled up and left with a smile on his face.  I think if he had his way, we'd live in a remote cabin like this, being self-sufficient and subsisting on things we produce ourselves through hard work and a little bit of ingenuity.  He would love for us to have the opportunity and time to grow our own animals and vegetables, chop our own firewood.  These cabin trips are the most fun for him.  Myself, on the other hand, have difficulties with many tasks because of my disabilities and find manual labor frustrating.  My body doesn't cooperate either in strength or two-handed dexterity.  I am confined to the stereotypical housewife duties.  Sometimes it bothers me a lot, but on days like today, I'm almost glad I don't have it.  My job includes melting snow and keeping the cabin warm.  Now's my chance to be girly.

The high for the day.

I drag Black Spruce trees inside and snap the small twiggy branches from them, stoking the fire until it is roaring with excitement.  I strip down to my booties and give myself a good cleaning.  Even though the wipes don't remove much of that oily feeling, it feels good to be released from the confines of my compressing Under Armour top.  My skin breathes naturally.  I carefully pour a cup of warm water over my head.  Since my hair is very thin, I can wash and rinse it with about 20 ounces of water.  My hair is always the place that feels disgusting first so five days worth of oil washes away.  It feels incredible and I wonder why I haven't cleaned it sooner.

Matt soon returns with a few more small trees.  I saw a few of them into stove pieces, contorted into a position that fatigues me quickly.  Because I lack strength in my left arm, I often use my left leg for things.  It looks really weird but somehow works (ask me sometime about how I get jars open).  Human adaptation at its finest.

After a quesadilla lunch cooked right on the wood stove, we decide we should at least spend some time outside for the day.  We continue along on foot, leaving our skis at the cabin, and head along the trail, moving deeper into the White Mountains.  Unsurprisingly, we are faster on foot, especially without our loaded packs.  We cross over Beaver Creek and a burned area and then move east along a ridge.

Off in the distance, the larger peaks appear.  I stare straight ahead fixated on a particularly beautiful looking mountain.  I attempt to reel it in, picking up the pace.

"I'm not sure if the drool is from the view or from my nose, but it is gorgeous."  It is a shame this is as deep as we'll get into this area.  We have a feeling that the really cool mountains are less than a day's walk away.  Reluctantly, we turn back after an hour.

After the six mile hike, we return with nothing more than a teased taste in our mouths.  I always want to know what is just out of view and behind the next turn.  That is one of the most beautiful things about Alaska, most of the state is so wild that I'm allowed to explore on a whim.

That night at the cabin, Matt and I enjoy a quiet night reading and crocheting.  On our previous cabin trips, I often brought a small crochet project.  I've completed many hats and pot holders in these small wilderness oases.  This time, I was working on wool socks.  Matt spent the evening quietly with his book on the bottom bunk, I rested on the highest perch with my yarn and hook.

"The warm spot is where the Karen is at", Matt and Jim joked with me.  I was always able to find the coziest place in each cabin and park myself there for the night.  As we slept, a light snow began to fall, keeping the temperatures from plummeting too far below -30F.  Tomorrow, we're back on skis.