"No good deed goes . . . "

Back when we were in Wisconsin visiting The Wife's family a couple weeks ago, I was conscripted to build a cold frame for my mother-in-law.  Well, "conscripted" might not be the correct term here since, you see, I knew that Jan would accompany any project of this sort with ample quantities of top-shelf domestic macrobrew and, if it's early enough in the day, the occasional bloody mary.  I was quick to volunteer for the task.

Having grown up in the West, in places where nobody is really from, it's always fun to visit central Wisconsin.  If you grow up in rural Wisconsin and move 50 miles, it's a big move.  If you go to, say, Alaska, you might as well be in another country.  My brother-in-law, and good friend, Tyler is one of those locals with deep roots to Marathon County.  You need a used window?  He's got a guy who's got a dozen for you.  You need some lumber on Saturday when the local yard is closed?  He's got as many clear 2x10s as you might need.  Tools?  Forgetaboutit.  If Tyler wasn't such a nice guy, you'd think he was part of some Wisconsin Polish mafia.

With materials and bloody mary in hand, Tyler and I made short work of building the cold frame.

The sides are 2x10s cut to the appropriate length and width and joined like a log cabin so it can be disassembled for easy transportation or storage.

The window is on a hinge for easy access to the inside. 

And an updated picture with the fresh planting:

Of course, now that we're home and things are starting to warm up, The Wife is going garden crazy.  She's already sourced a bunch of old windows and, as the saying goes, no good deed goes unpunished.  She just better have a bloody mary waiting.

Tika!

Spring ski season is in full effect around here, and one of the great things about Anchorage is that the Chugach Front Range is a mere minutes from town. 

Brian, one of my coworkers, and I had been talking about skiing together for a while.  With weather a bit too nice to be indoors, we ditched work a little early last Friday, picked up Brian's dog, Tika, and went out for a quick ski. 

Since I forgot my camera, Brian took all the pictures.  Since Brian's dog ran off, I did all the skiing.  Bummer.  Me part way up the skin track (I'm on the left side of the run, near the rocks) while Brian skinned around the flats looking for Tika:

Brian eventually found his dog, but not until after I had turned down worried that something serious had happened. 

Well, Brian, at least we weren't still in the office.

"Of course it's cold and wet . . . "

I'm not really sure how it happened, but one of the most viewed posts on this blog is my retort of fly fishing as a quiet sport.  Another fly fishing blog that I peruse on occasion, Buster Wants to Fish, has a similar post about the suffering of winter steelhead fishing.  It's great, and anyone who's had their guides freeze in the name of steelhead should give it a read.

A picnic at the shack

The Wife and I are on assignment in Wisconsin this week, where all things revolve around cheese, cheese curds, traditional American macrobrew, the Packers . . . and Leopold's land ethic. 

Having never visited the shack and needing to catch up with our good friend Alanna, who happens to work for the Aldo Leopold Foundation, we worked our way over to Baraboo for a quick sit-down.

It's quite the place, and there's a ton of history.  Where else can you have a picnic where Leopold wrote A Sand County Almanac?  Where else can you sit in Leopold's chair, fer crying out loud?

Although, he made it look better:

Above the Arctic Circle

Work had me in Anaktuvuk Pass last night to attend an Alaska DNR public hearing on some proposed coal prospecting permits.  Anaktuvuk Pass is a Nunamiut village of about 300 people that lies on the northern foothills of the Brooks Range, just north of the Arctic Circle within Gates of the Arctic National Park.  While there's regular air taxi service and a few non-native people living in Anaktuvuk Pass, a significant portion of the population speaks Eskimo as their primary language.  A few individuals know no English.

Historically, Nunamiut people were somewhat nomadic, relying on the large caribou herds, abundant dolly varden and whitefish populations, and plentiful berries to sustain them throughout the years.  While people in Anaktuvuk Pass no longer are nomadic, subsistence hunting and fishing, berry picking, and many of the traditional values remain.  Of course, the DNR's proposed coal prospecting permits would be the first step in developing a coal mine right on top of important caribou habitat, something the locals want nothing to do with.

On to the pictures . . .

The flight up from Fairbanks was pretty awesome.  Here's the Alaska Pipeline:

And the Yukon River:

The Brooks Range:

A herd of caribou bedded down in the snow (click to make larger):

And the bustling metropolis of Anaktuvuk Pass:

It was around 5-10 degrees below zero when we landed.  We were met at the airport by Chief Cooper, local fire chief and tour guide extraordinaire.  As one of the few non-native individuals in town, Cooper insists on using the moniker "Chief" and seems to take a special interest in out-of-towners.  My boss, Vicki, is on the left; Chief Cooper is in the middle; and Emily, who works on coal issues for one of our partner organizations, is on the right.

A newly-built experimental arctic home (notice the wind and solar power generation and sod roof) which, when combined with the dump, formed two the biggest highlights on the Chief Cooper tour:

Here's a more typical Anaktuvuk Pass home (notice the inspirational dumpster on the right):

Since we were so far north and the skies were so clear, we decided to venture out late and look for the northern lights.  However, temperatures around -25 F and cutting wind made sure we didn't stay out long.  If the northern lights came out, we didn't see them.

And finally, in case you were wondering, here's what $225 per night gets you in Anaktuvuk Pass: