Resurrected Blog Amid Covid-19

Not a track to be seen in the driveway!

An Easter Sunday trip to the cabin, west of Big Lake sparked the idea.  It had been forever since I posted anything on my blogger. The reasons could include any of the following: taking continuing education classes, training for a running race, writing burnout, traveling outside the state much of the summer, or the usual excuse - no time.

Ever since flying home after spring break, it has been an adjustment to find normal. Like the rest of the world, Covid-19 realities and uncertainties have reached Alaska. While I'm happy to be healthy, my usual routines aren't the same. I'm fortunate to be working as a teacher, but doing so from home. Some of my regular exercise partners have bailed, or maybe I bailed on them! Then, there's the wondering and worrying, "When will we see our kids, parents, and extended family members, who all live in the "Lower 48?" Whether it was the trip to the cabin and all its memories or the realization that I'm kind of stuck in Alaska for awhile, I thought why not resurrect "Life and Adventures in the Last Frontier" to occupy my mind and free time these days.

The middle of February was the last time we were at the cabin and it was only to shovel the roof.  We found ourselves going there less often over the years. The snowmachines weren't running, fat biking in the cold wasn't much fun, and there was a series of burglaries. Anything that thieves could carry out disappeared including our wood stove. In the end, a weekend at the cabin became more of hassle than fun. 

Enter Covid-19 and social distancing practices and suddenly a cabin on 21 acres has much more appeal. Soon the truck was loaded with a snowblower, brats were in a bag and an extra shovel was thrown in back the truck. We were off to enjoy Easter Sunday.  

Whenever we pull up, I always get this antsy, nervous feeling to see how the cabin has fared in our absence.  I stepped over the plowed berm and instantly my leg dropped, crotch deep into snow.  There was no shortage of snow!  I soon learned if I avoided the old moose track and I stepped lightly I could walk at least 10-15 steps on the hard crust before I fell in again.  While I made my way to the cabin, Bryant took on the arduous task of snowblowing a real path. 

Seeing nothing amiss in the cabin, I proceeded to gather wood for a campfire. This was no small task given the large volume of snow blocking the wood stash and the need to carry it a 100 feet across the fragile crusted surface to the firepit, which is now buried 3 feet down, somewhere?  I guesstimated accurately and hit a rock the first try.  Before too long, I had a hole dug and fire blazing.

In the meantime, Bryant managed to wrestle the blower 3/4 of the way up the drive.  Where at this point, he needed my help to soften the snow in front of it due to increased snow depth and the slight uphill angle of the path.  

While he finished blowing snow himself, I crawled back into the woodshed for another load of wood, cut us some hotdog sticks, and settled in to roasting a brat. Shortly thereafter,
Bryant joined me.

We were probably sitting about five minutes when it started to drizzle. But being good Alaskans, we sat there unfazed and watched the cheddar cheese melt from the brat into the fire.