Raising Chickens in Alaska for Food, Yard Work, and Companionship

We raise chickens for breakfast (eggs) and rabbits for, well, dinner.  The latter is harder because rabbits are so darn cute and it is poor protocol to use such adjectives about future stew.  You never see “cute” on a restaurant menu, do you?

I recommend both animals for pets, and although my husband would prefer that I regard the animals merely as food producers, I must confess that I treat the chickens somewhat as pets and I am endeavoring not to do the same with the rabbits.  This article is about raising chickens.  A following article is about raising rabbits.

Our coop and run, with bear wire fence post

Our chickens live in an insulated green and white, 4x6 coop attached to a 4x10 roofed run, located in the lower meadow visible from our cabin.  (Both are padded by straw that we harvest in the summer.)  Together, the structures remind me of a little old fashioned train car and caboose, awaiting an engine to cart them away. To keep the water from freezing and to power a small heat lamp inside during the winter, my husband ran electric line (powered by our solar panels and wind turbines) to the buildings.  We also have a solar powered electric fence around the coop to deter hungry bears (in summer) and wayward moose, although, to our knowledge, that has not been tested yet, even though we have seen bears and moose in the yard.  The coop is elevated about 6 inches, which provides the chickens with a shady nook.

Sometimes they take naps under there and the other day, I swear, I heard one of them snoring.  The space also provides an accessible hiding place from flying predators, like eagles and owls.  ( In Alaska, we don’t have to worry about snakes or rats). Unfortunately, though,they are vulnerable to other animals.  A wily weasel dug under the run last year and killed half our flock.  Subsequently, Bryan dug down about a foot on all sides of the run and inserted a below ground “fence” of roofing metal.  We hope that will foil future attempts.   

Easy, Inexpensive Window Sill Gardening

With a minimal investment of time (1 -2 month), space (4 inches wide), and money ($25), beginning gardeners can enjoy rapid results by planting seeds in an indoor window sill garden.    

On my 4 inch wide window sills of two, four foot (double paned) windows that face south, I fit six plastic six- pack planters each (twelve packs total, 72 plant holes). Starting March 10 (still winter here - it snowed until May 3), I planted the seeds of a variety of herbs, flowers, and vegetables. My expectations were low because the setting wasn’t the greatest – the window doesn’t offer full sun all day (because of spruce and birch trees) and the temperature inside our log cabin varies from a low of 53 at night to a high of 69 during the day, and the temperatures just beyond the window were below freezing every night. 

May 3, 2013 snow fall in front of the shower house

Of the 21 plants I started indoors, below are my notes on the fastest, easiest and most robust ones that grew on my window sill from March 10 through May 5 (today), during one of the coldest Aprils in Alaskan history. Since they did so well for me, I hope the results inspire readers to try seedlings on window sills of their homes, classrooms, or perhaps, offices or hospital rooms.    

  

Appreciate Where You Are: Rural Alaska or the Big City

(the following article was recently published at  http://uuministryforearth.org/reflections ) 

One night, while preparing a labor-intensive risotto for dinner in our Houston high-rise, my husband ambled into the kitchen and asked, with studied casualness, “Honey, if I could buy a piece of undeveloped land in Alaska, under market value, would that be OK with you?” Who knew that five years later, we would be living full time in a two room log cabin with an outhouse, forty-two miles from the nearest road, having sold our high-rise and given away most of our belongings. 

March view from front porch

Obviously there are a number of “why?” and “how?” and “why?” again, questions raised by that paragraph.  Here, I'd like to focus on three things I appreciate more because of these changes but also things I appreciate about the city I left. But first, the setting:

I'm Proud of My Outhouse

I surely have one of the nicest, most women-friendly outhouses in Alaska.

For one thing, it has a door.  A surprising number of such structures lack this feature.  I don’t know if the reason is to increase circulation in order to reduce spiders and flies, or to provide a clear view of a bear approaching at one’s most vulnerable moment, but I insisted on a door.  So, for ventilation, I have two high, screened windows, and additional  vents under the eaves. 

An additional plus is that it is painted.  Most aren’t.  To increase the light load, I painted the interior a cheery, shiny, butter yellow.

Women invariably comment on the décor.  My outhouse lacks magazine pictures of cars, naked women, and animal carcasses tacked to the walls.  Instead, I commissioned two stained glass pieces (of Alaska flowers) from a talented friend to hang within the window frames.  They cast rainbows on the reflective walls. 

Whereas some outhouses just have a hole cut in an increasingly splinter ready plywood bench,  I demanded a real, wooden seat.   You don’t use that in the winter, of course – the wood conducts the cold.  This year, for example, the hoar frost on the inside of the lid didn’t melt until March.  Rather, during the cold season, we keep the seat pitched up in order to sit on a ring of polystyrene, which, by virtue of the air holes, feels, if not warm, at least temperature neutral.

The building includes no magazine racks or funny books.  Let's face it: the building is unheated and uninsulated, so visits tend to be quick and business-like.

Nor does it include potpourri.  Although, come to think of it, I do keep a smoker in there in the summer (to deter black flies).  I wonder if sandalwood would work just as well...

The final advantage is its size.  Compared to some elbow clinging claustrophobic versions I've had to visit, mine is a roomy 4 x 8 with a high ceiling.  It is big enough to accommodate shelves for relevant items, including a jug of water and tin cup in the summer, a cast iron hook shaped like a leaf to hang one’s mittens, and a bin of firewood ash for occasional cupfuls down the hole.

Some people are proud of their cars or their jewelry.  Since I have neither here, I’m pretty darn proud of my outhouse.

        

An Early Autumn

Autumn is a short season here, and, in a place already rich in light and temperature dependent “now or never” opportunities, fall welcomes seasonal activities that we enjoy only this time of year.

View of home from the kayak

This summer gave clues that winter might come early, and indeed it did. By mid-August, the last fire weed flowers bloomed. That final flowering is our “old wife's tale” warning that winter is 6 weeks away and autumn is upon us. The 6 foot grasses and fireweed die back, revealing the red, yellow, and brown leaves of shorter ferns, cranberry bushes, and devil's club. The berries of the ash, elderberry, and cranberry bushes start orange and turn red and, in some cases, attain a gorgeous burgundy. The birch and aspen trees turn yellow, reflected along the lake edge, reminding me of many a Japanese screen. Over time, they shed their starry seeds and heart shaped leaves along the brown woodland paths, as though ready for a blushing bride to walk upon them. On a short shopping flight to Anchorage in late August, I saw a beautiful sight: miles and miles of yellow birch and aspen, looking, from the 500 ft vantage point of a de Havilland Beaver, like bouquets of giant daffodils as far as the eye could see.

Life with and without Plumbing

(I welcome your comments and questions through the "comments" option below any entry. --Laura)

Have you ever thought about how much water you use in a shower, dishwasher load, or washing machine?  What is it like living in a place where you have to think and plan and ration and filter water?  Below is our experience far from electrical and plumbing grids to get water and get ourselves hydrated and clean during Alaska's summer and winter (which offer very different water experiences). 

SUMMER WATER

We don't have a well, so from May through October, we rely on lake water for cooking, cleaning, and drinking.  This involves lowered expectations, high and low technology, patience, and effort. I am now much more respectful of every woman who ventured out on a covered wagon ... or who didn't and ran a home in a fifth floor walk up on Mulberry Street, NYC, as well as many contemporaries around the world who cleverly live without plumbing today.

The first summer the cabin was built, we had sitting and sleeping furniture but not much of a kitchen.  The propane and wood stoves were in place, but the rest of the kitchen was just a plywood counter on top of two saw horses.  Washing dishes (and clothes, and ourselves) was done outside, in  two deep utility sinks on the (uncovered) back porch.  By hefting 8 gallon jugs of cold water and occasional pots of stove heated water into the sink, we got by with rather greasy dishes and hair and laundry.  We drained the gray water down into a pit we filled with rocks and a perforated 55 gallon drum. This got very old, very fast, particularly on cold and rainy days, particularly since I hadn't brought any paper plates that year! 

Heat by Wood: How Much Wood/Work/Time per Year

Many of us, particularly in cities, I think, rely on “black boxes” of magic for the conveniences we enjoy. We click a switch “over here” so that lights or heat or air conditioning or TVs turn on “over there”. When they fail to work, as they do in an era of “planned obsolescence” or a power outage, we either buy something new or enlist shaman-like experts called electricians or plumbers or auto mechanics or computer technicians to wave their magic wands.

Living off-grid in Alaska has made me more aware of all that goes into those things I used to take for granted. The article below outlines how much labor we expend to generate heat for ourselves, and outlines comparisons to alternative heat sources enjoyed by people who don’t live in the middle of a forest.

Since passing chemistry (barely), I hadn’t given a thought to British Thermal Units. In Alaska though, as you can imagine, that concept means a lot. We produce the heat for our cabin by chopping down birch trees that we then cut, age, and stack to stoke a small but efficient wood stove. How much wood do we need? How long does that take to acquire? How long does it last? How much heat does it produce?

The measurement for wood is a cord (4 x 4 x 8 feet). For dry birch, which is the available wood of choice for heating our cabin, this volume weighs about 3000 lbs (“green” wood weighs much more, about 4500 lbs). We store about 8 cords, or 32 x 4 x 8 feet and 24,000 lbs in our “wood corral.”

Intentional Living in a Tiny Residence: Storage in a Log Cabin

Low  bookcase below window, bins below
love seats, storage behind one  

I have long admired the efficient use of space in boats, planes and RVs, so it was a fun challenge to figure out how to make the best use of our 750 square foot log cabin (16 x 24 x 2 stories), of which 584 sq ft is tall enough to stand in). How could I make it comfortable, inviting, and functional? Since so many readers viewed an earlier entry titled, ‘Furnishing a Tiny, Remote Log Cabin,” (Dec. 2011) in which I wrote about what you do see - the furnishings - I thought a companion piece  about storage might be in order. In any home or office, what you do see is only half the use of the space!   I welcome the suggestions of any readers who have made clever use of small spaces. 


Because our cabin is so small, I scrutinized every nook and cranny above, below, behind and between furniture, windows, and doors. It has been like an ongoing game. Any storage that could be hidden earned “bonus points” for problem solving. Extra points accumulated for storage in spaces where nothing else would work. To point out how tiny spaces can have great utility, see underused spaces below from 1 - 12 inches deep or wide. Doing all this yielded much more storage than I expected, and thus, a neater looking, more functional living space.

One inch deep:
Our cabin is on a little bluff, so the front porch is about 4.5 feet off the ground, yielding potential storage space beneath, accessible from two sides. Under the less visible western side, we store BBQ and gardening equipment. What’s the one inch reference? On the easy access lateral support holding up the deck’s floor, we screwed cup hooks and hammered in nails for those long cooking utensils, and farther away, my gardening hand tools, both in a “ready for use” applicable location. I say one inch here because of the space used by the hooks and nails, but since they are under the edge of the floor of the deck, they don’t actually project at all.

Use the space between furniture/appliances.

Three Inches wide:

In the 3” vertical space between the propane oven and the wooden box that covers our 55 gallon water cistern, I store all my flat cooking pans.

Use the space above a door or below a window.
Four Inches deep:

• In most homes, the space above the doors (and windows) is unused. But because we live in bear country and my husband is a hunter, above each door is a gun rack projecting 4 inches, holding one rifle or shotgun. Up high, in a dark corner, these are a bit out of visual field but are accessible when wanted.  (Similarly, my father-in-law installed one shelf above his closets and kitchen doors to display collectibles and jars of dry goods)

• Three 4” deep shelves, (ranging in width from 13 – 29”) in an attractive Adirondack twig and birch design, adorn one central wall. They support vases of seasonal flowers and mugs and a birch basket of tea, sugar, and snacks for handy access. (Right now, the vase showcases columbine with mustard and broccoli flowers.)

• A woodstove requires a certain minimum space around it as a safe “hot zone.” In such a small home, that space cried out to be used, particularly during the months when we don’t heat the stove! On the wall above and behind our wood stove hangs a black metal structure intended for drying hats and mittens. It is 4” deep and 24” (top) and 36” (bottom) wide. I use it to hang pots and pot holders below and lids above.

Seven inches high:
The space beneath my bed may be a bit higher, but the bottom of the horizontal supports for the mattress leaves 7” of clearance. Under one side of the bed, I store the following in six canvass and plastic zippered, rectangular bags: his and her “city clothes” that we want to store flat, DVDs, crocheting and art supplies. Under the other side of the bed, my husband stores long gun cases with cleaning supplies inside.

Eight inches wide:
Between the sink and the cistern (both with wooden superstructures) is an 8” gap. Into the wooden frames, we screwed in about 10 cup hooks from which dangle long cooking utensils, sieves, and cooling racks that would take up too much room anywhere else. On the floor below, I store bulky baking pans, like muffins. Above this gap, and along the wall into the corner above to cistern, heavy J hooks are screwed into the log wall to support cotton net bags that dangle 5 pounds each of potatoes, onions, citrus, garlic, etc. (Note: don’t store onions next to potatoes since they "pull: moisture from them and wrinkle them).

Eight inches deep:
We don’t have much counter space on either side of our double sink, and I hated “wasting” one side to hold an unsightly drainage pan for dishes. On line, I bought a plastic one that has extendable “arms”  that straddle most sinks and obscure most of the dishes below the lip of the sink. and when empty, it is unnoticed. I also bought a plastic “saddle” to dangle over the barrier between the two sinks to hold soap and scrubbies/sponges but the one I bought never worked well for me so I just store them in the drain pan.

Use space below a window or along a low wall.
Nine inches deep:
Low, on three walls my husband installed long shelves that are 9” deep and 12-16" off the floor. The one under the front picture window is a book shelf. If you figure that an average book is 1” thick, I can store 50 books here (spine side up for easy review from above). On the floor space below I can tuck a number of items, as well, like a birch wood bin that holds games and a laptop computer.  

On the wall between the kitchen and the loveseat area, partially obscured by a free standing, spruce storage unit, is another 6 foot shelf that supports my spice jars near the kitchen and my paper supplies at the other.  Below, I tuck small appliances, electric and manual, jugs of oils and vinegar, a trash can for paper goods and a garbage can for scraps for the animals.    

Our upstairs is built with 3.5 foot pony walls along the sides, above which the roof inclines

toward a center beam. This means that standing room for adults is limited to a central swath about 10 feet wide. How could I neatly organize 24 feet of short walls?  Along one, starting near the head of the bed, is the third long, low shelf: 9“ wide x 12 feet long and 18" off the floor. This height was chosen to partially obscure five RubberMaid bins that store dry goods, toiletries, and linens (as another house might store in pantries, linen closets, beneath a bathroom sink, or in a basement). Books line the top of the shelf with plenty of room to spare.  (We commissioned spruce dressers and cabinets to fit the other side). 

Outside, we attached a 9“ deep metal rack for drying boots (or waders) on the lateral beam that supports our elevated front deck’s floorboards. It is hidden from view by the projecting deck flooring. When not in use for boots (most of the time), we hang large BBQ racks there.

Nine inches high:
The clearance beneath the two love seats is 9”. Under the one closest to the front door is a plastic mat for storing our “inside” shoes, since we always leave our muddy or snowy boots outside on the deck. Also, under each piece is a 6 high x 15 deep x 30 wide” clear, plastic bin with a lid, small enough, given the dimensions of the love seats (about 5 ft x 3 ft), to be inconspicuous. In one I store snack foods and the herbs and spices I want nearby but don’t use every week. The other bin is awaiting a decision, but at least I know that it fits there and is unobtrusive, for whatever purpose comes to mind.

Pull furniture away from the wall to utilize space behind it.
Twelve inches deep:
• My food prep counter, which is 15 inches wide, is perpendicular to the side wall (and sink). It serves as a visual divider between the kitchen and sitting areas, and, by positioning it 12” away from the wall, it partially hides the shelf of kitchen goods described above.  From three cup hooks on the wall end of the cabinet dangle baking tools: measuring cups and spoons, a sifter, a pastry cutter, and a spatula. A wrought iron ring hang on the visible end of the sink and food prep cabinets, with kitchen and face/hand towels. (Since we don’t have an indoor bathroom, we use the kitchen sink for ablutions.) 

Twelve inches in a corner can be useful, too, for a lamp or small side table.  We brew our own beer and make wine, so we use the corner to store a carboy of whatever we are fermenting at the moment (wine or beer). It is out of the way but we can keep an eye on clarity and yeast accumulation at the bottom.  Someone else might store a hamper of children's toys or hobby supplies. 

I dangle cotton net bags full of apples and oranges over the back posts of my love seats. Someone else might store TV remotes or coasters this way. 

• Because the roof inclines above 3.5 ft high pony walls, our dressers (taller than 3.5 feet) obscure a hidden storage space behind them. This space is twelve inch deep (narrowing at the top) times the height and width of each dresser. We store a great deal there: suitcases (storing within them backpacks, duffel bags and smaller suitcases), yoga mats, bins of 25 lb bags of dry goods, and even an extra office printer. Since the dressers are 18 inches deep, we leave a cubby hole in between them and between them and the corners. In these we store our hampers, chamber pot, portable heater and propane, and a tall stack of bins holding bulky winter clothes, extra linens, and 124 lbs of freeze dried food!

Repurposing:

• I rarely use our largest baking and broiling pans, but when I do, it is usually for a big brisket or rack of ribs cooked in the propane smoker. So I store those pans inside that appliance.

• In many homes, under stairs storage is great.  But we have a fully visible spiral staircase. How could I use that space? I bought willow creels, to function in ways that other houses would use medicine cabinets and desk or kitchen drawers for odds and ends. The creels dangle from their leather straps wrapped around the rungs of lower stairs. Similar creels sit on the front porch (carrying bug spray, binoculars, and sunglasses) and on top of each of our dressers for small personal items.

• Since floor space is at a premium, my bedroom “trash can” is actually a lidded pewter pot, on top of my dresser.

• We bought a nice big marine cooler that has been very useful in every season. In the winter, my husband stores groceries in it that we don’t want to freeze on the three hour snow machine commute from the nearest town to our cabin. Once here, we put the cooler on the back porch for frozen food accessible to us but not to hungry ravens. In the summer, we keep it in a shed to store boxes and jars of condiments and dry goods we want to keep from voles. 

Conclusions: I wonder if consumers often buy new things as a way out of other decision making, like "do I really wear/read/use the things I already own and store? Can I actually find the item I seek amidst all the crapola around it?"

A lot of satisfaction can come, for me at least, from fewer, well chosen items, like three really good kitchen knives instead of a block of poor ones, or one favorite mug that fits my hand well, or a comfortable chair or bed. Realizing this enabled me to shed quite a lot of stuff before moving out to our little cabin, and creative storage helped me enjoy a soothing rather than chaotic setting once settled in. I can look at the woods and the lake outside, and the soft sheen of the log walls and muted colors of the braided rugs inside, while making bread in my little kitchen. Nice.

Whether one lives in a large or small home, being intentional about furnishings, decorations, and storage will likely make the space more functional for you and more inviting for your visitors.

I welcome any of your clever ideas! Send them through the comment field below this entry. Thanks. –Laura Emerson

Easy Recipes from a Tiny, Remote Kitchen: Appetizers (that double up for other meals)

(I welcome your comments, recipe suggestions, and questions through the "comments" option below any entry. --Laura)

UPDATED: See Tomato Nut tapenade and Tomato Puff Pastry at the very bottom of list.

Do you have a tiny kitchen, limited time, a bare pantry?  Perhaps the following recipes will appeal to you. 

Living a half-hour flight from a town, out in the boonies, I cook 2-4 meals a day for months at a time.  No restaurants.  No pizza take out.  As a break, my husband kindly offers to cook all day once a month (which usually means “do you want the bag of green leftovers or brown leftovers?”)

 So by the combination of frequent necessity and boredom, I endeavored to make the process of cooking easier and more interesting to me, within the constraints of a tiny kitchen and no spontaneous access to a supermarket.  My favorite recipes, such as those below, meet the following criteria: 1) few ingredients (most below use only 3-5 ingredients, not including herbs), 2) few preparation steps/bowls/space requirements, 3) ingredients that store well or expand easily for groups or large harvests of produce or fish.  4) Less than ten minutes of preparation time (other than cooking or making dough) and, in most cases, 5) versatile.  Most of the 14 recipes below include 2-5 alternatives, each, and most can be used in various ways, for example, as a dip one day, a sandwich spread later, and a sauce for meat or pasta on another occasion.   

How Much Do You Know About Salmon? (Fisherpeople, Cooks, and Restaurant-goers)

Below are 11 questions about salmon, some for people who fish and others for people who eat.  Which facts did you know or not know? 

1.     Match the common name of a salmon species on the left with its alternative name(s) on the right (Some have more than one match).

1.     Pink	a.    Chinook
2.     Red	b.     Coho
3.     Silver	c.     Dog
4.     King	d.     Humpies or Humpbacks
5.     Chum	e.    Sockeyes
	f.     Steelhead
	g.    Blackmouth
	h.    Spring salmon
	i.      Tyee

  

2.         Which of the choices above right (letters) is a trick option because it is not really a salmon but a trout, despite its sales name, Atlantic salmon?

3.         Which species can potentially live the longest?  Which has the shortest lifespan?

4.         Which two species are the most common?

5.         Which two have the highest oil content (omega 3s), and are therefore best suited to grilling, smoking, and freezing?

6.         Which have the lowest oil content and therefore may lose texture when frozen and may dry out when cooked the wrong way?

7.    Which ones have the darkest, red-orange meat (while the others can be beige-pink)?

8.    Although the species run (migrate upstream) at different times in different parts of Alaska (and elsewhere), which of the numbered options tends to run the earliest?  The latest?

9.    Which species is exported in vast quantities to Japan and may be the one you eat at a sushi bar?

10.  Which species develops the startling green head and red body when spawning in fresh water?

11.  Which species is distinctive by its vertical stripes and deeply cut tail fin?

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How did you do?  For the answers and more information, enjoy the next blog entry, "Salmon Facts for Tourists, Cooks, and Restaurant-goers."

Preparation and Adaptability: "To go" bags and ID notebooks

(I welcome your thoughts, signed or anonymous, in the comment section below any blog entry)

Life is full of surprises, which is why adaptability and preparation go hand in hand to successfully navigate some of those twists and turns.  Most events do not surprise us BECAUSE they occur but rather because of when, where, how they inconveniently transpire. Below are three recommendations pertinent to anyone, anywhere: an identification notebook and “to go” bags at home and in the car. I’ve also described our emergency supplies for our snow machine, since that is our mode of transportation to the nearest town (42 miles) to buy food and supplies during the winter.    


The potential for natural disasters varies across the country, but virtually every region offers something catastrophic: Rapid departures or an inability to get home for unknown lengths of time can be caused by tornadoes, floods, hurricanes, earthquakes, fires, or rain or snow storms that cause extensive damage and loss of power.  


When we lived in TX, the following preparations came in handy not only during hurricanes, but also during less obvious intrusions, like street flooding and a fire in our high-rise.  My son, who never would have made such plans, has benefited from the car supplies several times when he had car trouble. Friends and relatives around the country, on the other hand, have been stranded without supplies by various catastrophes or inconveniences.  A bit of forethought can ensure greater comfort and self-sufficiency when the immediate surroundings are in turmoil.  

ID notebook

During Hurricane Katrina, about 250,000 people evacuated the flooded areas of Louisiana and Mississippi and moved to Houston, TX.  As one of the many volunteers helping to feed and shelter them, the biggest preparedness lesson I learned was the importance of keeping identification papers in an easily retrievable location.  Many people fled without clothing, food, or medicine of course, but without identification, they could not even prove who they were, to get healthcare or bank wires or start the insurance process once they reached a safe destination.  What ID might you need that you can grab in a panic situation?

Local News: What Does it Reveal about Alaska?

(Laura welcomes comments through the comment field below each blog entry)

Whenever we travel, I love reading the local newspapers.  Each town and region has its own points of pride and subjects of division and derision from which a visitor or new resident can learn a great deal. Note the organization, relative coverage and topics featured repeatedly in its newspapers.  Such news can help to entrench or eclipse assumptions about the place. Clearly, Alaska thinks of itself as different from the rest of the US, as reference to “Outside” and “the Lower 48” indicate.  In several ways, this is very true.   

 What do the Alaska newspapers reveal about life up here?  To me, the primary impression from the Anchorage Daily News is one of a fully embraced outdoor lifestyle.  By way of example, consider this:  the “Outdoors” section of the on-line version (www.adn.com) includes the following permanent sections:  Bears, Excursions, Fishing, Iditarod, Mushing, Skiing, Snowmachining,  and Wildlife.  Readers are invited to submit photographs and there are whole galleries devoted to cabins, the aurora borealis, and “around Alaska.” By contrast, the Houston (Texas) Chronicle (www.chron.com) doesn’t even have an Outdoors section.  The only regular outdoor activity addressed is gardening).    

Two years ago, somebody or other surveyed Anchorigians regarding their satisfaction in living there.  Over 90% said that the setting contributed to their satisfaction.  Aside from the obvious fact that Anchorage’s setting, between the Chugach Mountains and the Cook Inlet, is one of the most visually stunning in America, the paper makes clear that residents enjoy its terrain, resources, and weather.  Everyone I meet in Alaska is happy to be here.   (By contrast, what might the percentage be in many other places?  Most people I know in Houston, TX, for example, say they live there “for the job” and plan to leave.  Complaining about some aspect of the city is a ‘warm up topic” at just about any gathering.)    I must say, it is nice to get away from the whiners!     

Reflections on Recent (and upcoming) Alaskan Movies

In the past several years, probably since Sarah Palin jumped to the attention of folks in the Lower 48,  numerous movies and TV shows have been set in Alaska.  Below, I won’t critique them or give away any plot elements, but I thought I would address some of the questions that may have occurred to viewers of two recent movies, The Grey, with Liam Neeson and Big Miracle, with Drew Barrymore, and mention an upcoming one still being filmed, Frozen Ground, with John Cusack. 

1)    The Grey 2012, Liam Neeson. 

Plot: A southbound plane from the North Slope crashes somewhere in remote Alaska.  The motley group of survivors is menaced by an aggressive pack of wolves as well as inclement weather and topography.

Information about wolves:  The wolf is the largest canine, but not enormous.  Female wolves rarely top 110 lbs and males tend to weigh about 115 but some can reach 140 lbs.  By comparison to dogs, that means that wolves rarely reach the weight of a Rottweiler, and are certainly smaller than big dogs like St. Bernards and Great Danes. Some are mostly black, and others mostly white ones, but in general, their coats are multi-colored: black, gray, white, beige, like the first one the viewer sees. Wolves are opportunistic carnivores.  Depending on what is available in their vicinity, they hunt caribou, moose, deer, sheep, goats, beavers and share them with the pack, generally hunting every 2-3 days, according to tagged, observed wolves.  They also eat small mammals, birds and fish.  Generally they pursue the youngest, oldest, weakest animals available, and when they can find no live food, they will scavenge.             

Starting to Say Goodbye

Well, we have sold our home in the Lower 48 and will move to our little cabin in the woods of Alaska as a full time home in six weeks.  The sale prompts me to consider two historical analogies.  One is Cortez burning his ships in Latin America, to ensure that his men would commit to their new venture, no looking back.  The other, which more likely occurred to you, too, is Henry David Thoreau. But he only lived in his cabin on Walden Pond (land owned by Ralph Waldo Emerson, by the way) for two years, after which he moved back into town.  My husband’s goal is to live at our off-the-grid cabin F-O-R-E-V-E-R, but we both realize that health and other matters (like wanting a real bathroom) may trigger a future change.  Now, while we are both healthy, is a good time to embark on this adventure, and never say never or forever. 

Certainly we have been working toward this step over several years of learning and actions and increasing periods of time, both summer and winter.  The cabin and outbuildings and some raised gardens have been constructed and furnished and used and tweaked.  The power systems of solar, wind, and lake pumps have been tested and adjusted.  We’ve taken classes in welding, master gardening, flying, shooting, ham radio, and first aid.  We’ve bought books on relevant “how-to” subjects.  We’ve built up our inventories of supplies with a healthy set of redundancies for every breakdown of communication, power, heat, potable water, and food we could think of.  Perhaps most importantly, we’ve read lots of stories of naïve people moving up to Alaska to do exactly what we plan to do.  I hope we have learned something from their hubris and mistakes as well as their perseverance.  Perhaps most usefully, we have also developed a network of friends and service resources in South Central Alaska who are knowledgeable, resourceful, and have a good sense of humor in general, and about us!