Not Ironic, Just Stupid

Why would you piss off the people who prepare your food? IQ tests and a copy of How to Win Friends and Influence People should be given out along with check rides.

Potlatch

A woman here at the base, Dee Dee, is holding potlatch at the end of the month for her son. I am grateful that I am astute enough to have picked up on body language and tone to realize that this was not, in this case, similar to a confirmation or a Quinceañera, and didn't get all excited about learning something new and begin to grill her, the way I am wont to do. Because, sure enough, it's not.

For two nights, there will be singing and dancing around the furs, followed by a feast. On the third night, they will honor the people who helped her son. So, she will give gifts to the man who built her son's coffin and to the man who built her son's cross and the woman who prepared her son's body.

He died in 2004. I don't know if this is a yearly ritual or if it has taken this long or ... what. Yes, I could research it, and perhaps I should. But I won't. Not this time. There are some things I don't need to know clinically, rationally, intellectually. If it happens that I can ask her without being offensive, I will. But the death of a child...You walk carefully, there, even after six years. I do know it sounds beautiful. It sounds healing.

I'm honored she chose to take her break in my room and share with me. These are the moments...

Irony

Having one's peace and quiet interrupted by the pilot who has just been restationed at the base yelling about how he doesn't like to be stationed here because everyone is so noisy.

Acclimation

A year ago, Lithus and I were bombing over the countryside of Mexico, getting a helicopter from Cancun, across the border and up to South Lake Tahoe, California. We'd been in Mexico for a little while, were well acclimated, which was a damn good thing, given that the air temperature was about 104 F. The ground temperature was pushing 120. (Note, I'll see if I can find pictures. I've got them...I just don't know if I can find them) We reached the US in time to celebrate our youngest nephew's 7th birthday. Outside, in a park, in approximately 80 degree weather.

I was so cold I had to borrow a sweater from my sister. A week later, I drove through the Nevada dessert without the air conditioning and the windows barely cracked, perfectly comfortable.

A year later, we're in Galena, Alaska. Today, we were walking back from lunch, sweating. It is hot. No, it is hot. The sun is beating down; there's almost no wind; the clouds are on the horizon. Hot.

I just checked NOAA. It's 74.

What a difference a year makes.

Oatmeal

Back in the early '70s, my grandfather went to Paris. When he returned, my mother called him, very excited to hear about the trip. As she tells it, the conversation went something like this:

"Daddy, you went to Paris!" "I had to pay $8 for a bowl of oatmeal." 

"Did you see the Eiffel Tower?" "I had to pay $8 for a bowl of oatmeal." 

"Daddy you got to fly the Concorde. What was it like?" "In Paris I had to pay $8 for a bowl of oatmeal." 

I have never really understood my grandfather until just recently. I paid $137 for shampoo, conditioner, body wash, deodorant, lotion, (the world's largest box of) tampons, disposable cups, 1 litre of spiced rum, and a 6-pack of Coke. I want to talk about Galena. I want to write about the two months leading up to getting to Galena. Hell, I want to tell you about the last year living on the road. Share some of my favorite places and stories and people with you.

But I had to pay eight dollars for a bowl of oatmeal! Let me get past that. Then I promise, we'll move on.

Galena, Alaska: The Airport and Base

Smoke Haze

On the way to work

dining "hall"

BLM-DOI HQ

(Bureau of Land Management - Department of the Interior Headquarters)

Fuel Trucks at the staging area

Gate E

Overgrown holding tanks

Back of the Galena airport

Thank God for CVS

Part of life on the road, especially in the (rotor wing side of the) aviation industry is that nothing is settled until you are actually there, doing the job, and getting paid for it. Even then, it's not a done deal the way most people consider done deals. Things can change very quickly. I remember last summer, we were driving from Salem, OR and my (step)daughter's wedding to Medford, OR and the next gig. It's about a three hour drive. In those three hours, we received four different phone calls, telling us plans had changed. It is absolutely nothing for Lithus to come home and say "We're leaving for (wherever) tomorrow morning." Sometimes, we actually do, too.

The point of this is that we have been being told we would be in Fairbanks for this fire season since before we got to Alaska...only first... First, we went to Galena. Then Lithus went to Manley, by way of Fairbanks. Then he came back here. Then we went to Fairbanks together. Then he went to Bettles. I was going to join him in Bettles but he was already turning around before I could get there. So he came back to Fairbanks. Then we were sent back to Galena. But only for three or four days.

That was two weeks ago. This past weekend, we were informed we would be staying in Galena for the rest of fire season. So much for Fairbanks. 

Here's the thing about Galena: it's a village in the Interior. Not a bad place to be. Not at all. However, not a good place to be if you've only brought enough deodorant, shampoo and shaving cream for three or four days. But guess what? CVS.com delivers. To the Alaskan Interior. At lower-48 prices, even.

I swear, I don't think thought of a new razor has ever made me so happy in my entire life.

Well, Hi There!

Welcome to Stilettos in the Outback, ramblings, descriptions, and general thoughts about living a life on the road. Thanks for coming along on the ride.

Lots of pictures, here. Lots of words (I am a writer, after all). Some of it will be rated R but mostly you're going to be looking at G to PG13 ratings, although there will be profanity. I can promise that. Otherwise, I'm not exactly sure what comes next ~ but that's part of living life on the road. You find out what comes next when it comes. Welcome to my world.