Warren Jeffs is Alive and Well in the Hen House

(I started this a while back, but didn't quite finish it 'til now, so even though it's old hat now, I'll send it along.)


Well, I've been helping out with the milking for a week now, so am quite comfortable around the chicks and even don't have to hold my nose any more. This morning as I was waiting for Deanne and her friend who was milking the other cow to fill their pails for me to strain and bottle, I really took notice of the chickens. To be honest, the first couple days in the barn, I thought they were all roosters because they all had those little red helmets and red beards. I remember wondering why they would have so many roosters and no hens, and why some of them were sitting up in the one of the eight hutches, and when they came out there was an egg in there! Finally, on the third day I gathered up the courage to show my ignorance and asked Deanne about it. She explained that only one is actually a rooster - the prettiest of the lot, plus he has a larger helmet and larger beard, plus a larger, plummier tail. When she pointed him out, the difference was so obvious I wondered how I'd missed it!

Anyway, today it was pretty quiet in the chicken world, but suddenly one of the hens was squaking from the corner behind the cows that were being milked. The rooster trotted over to just in front of me and squaked back at the hen. She actually squaked back, then the rooster trotted around a bit, squaking up a storm, while the hen was answering him every chance she got. I had already decided his name was Warren Jeffs, so now one of his harem had gotten misplaced and he was letting her have it! "Get over here right now, or you're going to be sorry!" he screamed at her. "No, pick on one of your other wives this time 'cause I'm not going anywhere," the pathetic hen retorted. "You'd better get your little hen feathers over here right now or I'll peck them out one at a time!" he shouted. "No, no, no! I'm not doing what you say any more! Come get me if you want, but I'm not coming out of this corner!"

Well, about this time the turkey that thinks he's a chicken (they've tried twice to seperate him out, but he always returned, so they just let him be and deceive himself) happened to walk past Jeffs and caught his jealous eye. Since Jeffs couldn't get his common law wife to listen, he went after the innocent turkey. He chased that turkey around the barn, across it, and around it again 'til his anger had subsided. By that time, all the hens were squaking, some were running around, wondering what in the world got ol' Jeffs rhiled up this time. They must have figured if they all give him a piece of their minds at the same time, he can't get even with them all. Jeffs spotted my new rain boots (will explain them later) and decided in the absense of a submissive hen, they'd have to do. Unluckily for him, I saw him move toward my feet, so I moved my feet toward him, and like all bullies, he backed off. I guess he gave up after that, as he quieted down and all seemed to get back to normal. That is, until the original rebellious hen appeared - then all hen-hell let loose. It was weird, though, as rather than attack her, the rooster decided to take his anger out on a pretty white hen. Her white feathers went all the way down her legs and even fanned out at her feet. She's definitely the prettiest of the hens in the henhouse. Ol' Jeffs got her down, though, and proceeded to peck at the top of her head! Several of the other hens decided to get back on his good side by joining him. By this time I was becoming quite concerned about the welfare of the white hen and asked Deanne if I should break up the fight or just let them be. "Well," she said non-chalantly, "if they don't get too ferocious we just let them be, but if they go too far, we break it up." I decided they'd gone too far, so, waving my hands at the fighting parties, not very nicely told Jeffs and his conspiring turn-coat hens to get off her and leave the poor thing alone. They did. Every one shuffled to their corners, Warren Jeffs The Rooster fluffed his feathers, reminding his harem who's the man, and plopped himself down on the spot.

Now, my new rain boots are quite pretty. Black plastic with white geometric designs on them, kind of 60's ish. The reason I bought rain boots is this. The chicken house floor is covered with a winter's worth of chicken poop. I hear it makes great fertilizer in the spring, and insulation for the hens in the winter. In the meantime, though, the "carpet fibers" were clogging every artery in the bottoms of my tennis shoes. I knew if I let it go on any longer, my shoes would be impossible to clean, and they deserved better. So, I spent $18 to save them and now I must say I have the most fashionable feet in the hen house!

Farmer Ian & Farmeress Kathy

Yesterday Ian and I learned how to milk a cow! When Ronna asked if we'd like to help out Deanne, her oldest daughter, we jumped at the chance. After all, how hard can it be, and it's something we've never done before. What a great opportunity, we thought!

So, we mosied on down to the barn where Deanne handed Ian a pail, gave him a cow and a quick instruction. I posed my camera at him and his cow while he pulled and yanked on that teet until finally a thin stream of milky white fluid emerged. Ah-ha! He did it. He kept at it, quite proud of himself, and rightly so. Farmer Ian was born! We traded places so I could have a chance while he recorded history on the camera. It took a few tries, but finally the cow started cooperating. Between the two of us we got about an inch of milk in about half an hour, and we thought, hey, we're pretty good at this! Until Deanne showed us her full pail. I had noticed she had two teets going at a time, and I was sure we could graduate up to that. So, Ian took one side of the cow and I took the other, pulling, pulling, but only getting a thin stream again, and only from one teet each. Suddenly, without warning, the cow let loose like a race horse. No, not milk! Yukkk! All over my shoe and as I scooted back as quickly as I could react, it spashed on my pants. Now, why in the world had I put on clean clothes to go to the barn??? Obviously, the cow found this quite humorous, as if I could have read his mind at this point, he would have been thinking, "Ha, ha, you think that was bad? Wait - I feel an urge. Oh, yeah. Here it comes. You'd better move on back and hold your nose, 'cause here it comes." Sure enough, plop, plop. Yukkk again! That's when I decided there was a reason God made me a city girl. Ian, being the sport, and ofcourse having to prove he's the man, grabbed a shovel and proceeded to shovel the piles and throw them outside. Unfortunately, the smell remained. I decided at that point that I'd work in the kitchen, staining the milk and filling the jugs, but as I turned and took a step, one of the nearly 50 chickens mistook me for its perch and flew right at me! I felt like I was on the movie set of "The Birds." I'm sure I was shaking for a while, I just wanted out of that barn! I found the kitchen part much more my style and proceeded to strain the milk (twice) and pour it into glass jars. Ian actually continued to milk the cow, but we both agreed later that milking is not our forte!

We rewarded ourselves by driving to Homer in the afternoon. Homer sits on a spit of land south of Kenai-Soldotna, where we are, that juts into the Kachemak Bay. One of the young summer-hires from Florida (why do Floridians all come up here to work in the summer?) went with us, as she had been there years ago with her grandmother. Once again we were graced with the most beautiful soft blue colored water surrounded by bulbuous, snow covered mountains. I'm sure they must have been a good 20-30 miles away, but they are so large that they seem much closer - until you see a boat skimming across the water, and the boat seems so small that at first we're not sure it's a boat or a fish's fin. Alaska has made their roads very sight-seer friendly. There are areas for pulling over to take pictures every 1/4 mile or so. I'm sure they did this out of necessity, as before they were completed, I can only imagine the traffic back-ups caused by tourists gaping and gawking at the views.



There really wasn't much to the town of Homer, other than the views. It's a town with a harbor from which fishing boats leave, seeking the halibut and salmon. Other than that, there are seafood restaurants and souvinier shops, and lots of coffee/latte shops. But, the mountains beckon your eyes every time you turn around. And, the water. The color comes from the iceburg run-off, I'm told. It's a unique, serene blue, and it's really a shame you get distracted at all by the little shops. Who needs another tee-shirt when you just don't get tired of staring at the same mountains over and over? Mallory, the young lady who went with us, remembered a shop where she and her grandmother got the best hot chocolate ever. We asked several shop keepers about it, and finally found someone who directed us back to the other end of town. There, she got her hot chocolate and I got some of the hot chocolate powder for little Ian, and a CD of bear songs for Cadence and Cameron. It's funny, bears are the only wildlife we haven't seen here yet. I read in today's paper that the town of Kenai, just about 2-3 miles from the Ranch, has already had a few bears breaking into houses looking for food. They have a lot of strict rules about making your house bear-proof, but sometimes people just forget or neglect something, and the bears are waking up now and looking for easy food. We see quite a few moose, of all sizes, along side the roads, eating the fresh grasses coming up.



So, today Ian finished the lean-to, which I have to paint as soon as I'm done with the sign. I worked on that a bit today and will do some more tomorrow. Ian said he's going fishing tomorrow - his first fishing trip in Alaska! I hope he brings home dinner!

Refuge in a Sign

Today was an interesting day, the kind of day that just kind of evolves. Our only plans were for Ian to continue working on the lean-to and for me to paint one of the large signs at the entrance to the Diamond M. There are two signs, one on each side of the driveway - one has large, nicely defined black letters declaring the name of the ranch, the fact that they offer an RV park, B&B, and cabins for rent, and their phone number, printed on a stark white background. Very easy to see from the road. The other sign at one time was brown wood painted brown with darker brown letters. I think the original intent was to look rustic; however, over time the two browns faded into each other, and the entire sign kind of fades into the background of trees and schrubs. So, my job was to make it as eye catching as the other sign, infact, nearly as identical as I can make it, even though I told Blair (the male half of the owners) that my skill at lettering and spacial, staight lines is wanting. He apparently has more confidence in me than I do, as he said to have at it. OK. I found the white paint in their garage and was rolling it on the picnic table in front of Montana to stir it up when Ronna (the female half of the owners) stopped by to chat about some mailers I had worked on for her yesterday. After a few minutes, she very casually drew my attention to the fact that the paint was leaking out of the can, still on its side, and pouring onto the picnic table, down the post, and onto the indoor-outdoor carpeting they had placed there. Either Ronna is a good actress or is not easily perturbed, as I think I was more upset about it than she was. Anyway, there was about half the can left, and that was just enough to put one coat of paint on the sign. I had Maddie (known to his brothers as Maggot) help me carry the ladder back up to Montana while I carried the empty paint can and other paraphanalia I took down there to give the sign time to dry.

One of the guest campers strolled by - I had met her yesterday and found her very talkative, and since I had to get the mailers to the post office and needed to run by the grocery store, I asked her if she'd like to ride along. So, off we went. Did our thing at the post office, went to Fred Meyer (northern version of K-Mart), then sat with mochas at the Starbucks stand there. From Gayle, I learned a couple things I never knew before - Shriners are evil and all good drivers are Christians. Hmmm, must be an Alaskan thing.

I was happy to get back to my sign to give it a second coat of white paint. In some spots it took several coats, as it just kept soaking into that old wood. Little Sonora, the 5 year old daughter of the owners rode her bike down and asked what I was doing. "Riding your bike," I told her. "No you're not!" she said. "What am I doing?" I asked. "You're painting!" she said. "They why did you ask?" said I. "What are your paiting?" Sonora asked. "Your bike," I said. "No you're not," she said emphatically. "What am I painting then?" I asked. Getting impatient with me, she said, "That sign!" "They why did you ask?" I asked. I did smile at her at this point. She just stared at me like I was looney tunes. Well, she hadn't just spent an hour with a woman who thinks Shriners are evil and good drivers are all Christians! Without further ado, Sonora got on her bike and rode back up the long driveway and left me in peace with my sign.

Ian has all the posts, beams and cross-beams up for the lean-to, and it's the best little lean-to in the world. Will withstand any earthquake, snowstorm or iceburg Alaska can throw its way. His next job will be to put the tin roof on. It's actually quite a good size and solid as it can possibly be. Once both Ian and I were taking a break, we went up on the viewing deck, which is actually the deck coming off the side of the owner's house. It's open for anyone to use anytime, and from there we have spectacular views of first the flat lands and marshy areas, then the town of Kenai, then the mountains still covered in snow in the distance. One mountain is especially large, even for being quite a few miles away. The view is so serene, especially with the bald eagles still circling over head as they have for days now. We could hear chirping and songs of other unidentifiable birds, and even though we could see cars on a distant road, we could not hear them. I hope Blair and Ronna and their family never tire of their view, as their living room wall is all glass, overlooking this same view.

Blair, four of their five kids, and his parents left this afternoon in his parents' motor home for Colorado to attend his grandmother's 90th birthday party. As they were leaving, with Blair driving, his long curly black hair blowing in the open window, the kids hanging out the passenger's window, yelling good-bye to us, the diesel engine loud as ever, I told Ian all they need is the peace sign on the side of their motor home and they'd look like hippies from the '60s. So, it's Ronna, her 15-year old daughter, and us running the place now. Ian right now is helping Deanna throw out hay bales for the horses and cows. In the morning we're going with her to learn how to milk the cows. I don't think we'll list those hours for compensation, but just chalk it up to a new, exciting life experience!

The chicks that were so tiny when we arrived have now at least tripled in size. They live just out side the back of us. It's amazing that Mac has no interest in chasing them. He's seen them and meandered around them a bit with us, but other than sniffing the ground they walk on, he has shown no hunting instincts. Since Heather, our Sheltie when we lived in Spokane, was once accused of killing the neighbor's chickens, we're wondering now if she was wrongly accused. Shelties are herders, not killers. Mac has proven that! Or, maybe he's just proving that he really is the wimp Ian has always said he is.

It's 8:45 p.m. and as light outside as if it were noon. It doesn't start getting dark now 'til after 11, and by 5:00 a.m. it's completely day light already. I just wonder when it's going to start warming up?? Of course, it could just be us. We're in layers and long pants, the kids here are bare-footed and light pants and a light shirt. Oh well, I'm sure they couldn't cope in Florida in August any better!

Backing up to South Dakota

Since not a lot happened today or yesterday, other than seeing 4 more moose (a mama with her baby and a couple other larger ones) and having more bald eagles soaring over head, I thought I'd back up to when we were going through S. Dakota on our way up here. We wanted to see Mt. Rushmore and the Badlands. Now, our friend Conrad in Indiana said Mt. Rushmore wasn't worth bothering with because you couldn't get close enough to see it well. Our brother-in-law Joe, in NYC, (NEEEW YOOORK CIIITY? as they say in the salsa commercial) said the Badlands were boring. Oh contrare, both of you! Maybe Mt. Rusmore has changed since Conrad was there, but as you'll soon learn we got quite close to our dead presidents. I doubt the Badlands have changed much since Joe was there, but we found them fascinating and beautiful.

As we approached the entrance to Mt. Rushmore parking deck, we proudly got out our new Senior Citizens Federal Parks Entrance pass. The lady in the booth proudly told us there was no entrance fee, BUT, we would have to pay $10 for parking, which of course is not covered by the Senior's pass. Typical. Oh, well, we parked the truck and climbed several flights of stairs 'til we were at the wide entrance, flanked on both sides by flags from every state. Each flag was hoisted above a column that named the state and the year it joined the Union. Straight ahead was the carvings of Roosevelt, Washington, Lincoln, and Jefferson. It was a sight to behold. After passing through the columns of flags, we approached a waist-high wall that not only kept us from falling down the presipice in front of the Presidents, but allowed us to be as close to them as we could be, see all four at the same time, and still appreciate their size. We even saw a couple wild goats grazing on top of Jefferson's head. The sight was quite breathtaking, what with the trees hugging their cheeks, grass growing towards the back of their heads and the rock formations below. What was truly amazing was the expressions on the Presidents' faces. How can pride and strength be carved into stone? We noticed a pathway which wound under the heads, so we followed a family with two kids. Actually, it got quite irritating, as the dad kept talking real loud like he wanted everyone in the park to hear him, and telling his kids "facts" that only a moron wouldn't already know. The older boy kept saying he knew that, he knew that, but that didn't stop dear old dad from showing what HE knew.

Anyway, the pathway was through lush forest and fawna, even for so early in the year. We even climbed through a "tunnel" cut from a large boulder (I don't know if the tunnel was man-made or weathered that way). Every time we looked up we could see one, two, three, or sometimes all four of our past presidents from a different angle.

As we drove away from Mt. Rushmore on a different route from how we got there, we still got great views of the Presidents, especially Washington, from many angles. The patience of the sculpter must have been that of Job. His dedication unimaginable. Sure makes you think that God assigns certain feats to certain people and gives them all they need to accomplish it.

The next day we headed to the Badlands. The road was quite desolate, as most in S. Dakota seem to be, but this one was extremely so. We eventually got to a town named Interior, population: 67. The business district consisted of three bars and one church. Nothing else. So, in the metropolis of Interior, you're either hell-bent or sitting at the thrown, but nowhere in between!

Anyway, the flatlands gradually got more rugged, the boulders became stone sculptors, the sculptors became small mountain ranges. Then, suddenly, we were in desert scape again. Just as quickly, we were driving through a moonscape of rock. Pitted and gray, undulating as far as we could see. Another turn in the road put us in the midst of soft rock that looked like Cappidocia in Turkey. Different sized cone shapes upon each other, holes here and there that looked like open doors inviting us in. Just as quickly, we were driving along great formations of rock consisting of many layers of different colored stone. The yellows changed to orange which changed to light brown which changed to gray which changed to pale reds, then back to orange again. I'm not usually one to like rock, but this was nearly as good as the rock formations in Death Valley. Very, very impressive, and I just can't imagine anyone being bored with it!

As we drove out of the Badlands (why in the world is it called the Badlands when it is so good??), prarie dogs were everywhere. They were poking out of their holes, watchings us pass by, chasing each other in and out of the holes, standing up on their hind feet to see what they could see. WE saw lots of bison droppings, then finally the bison it self. So huge and proud. It's really a shame they're not more plentiful so we could all see them more often and in more places. We saw several that day - they seem so large and cumbersome that it's hard to imagine herds of them actually running across the praries. We also noticed that they didn't appear raggety as the ones we've seen in zoos. We also saw antelope and white tail deer by the dozens. A hawk sitting on a fence post wasn't in the least bit afraid of us - of course, he sat perfectly still, probably thinking he was fooling us into thinking he wasn't real. Back in the trees at one point was a group of wild turkeys. And, finally, the signs for Wall Drug Store. We didn't bother with that man-made splendor, as how could it measure up to all the natural, God-given wonders we'd seen this day?

Sorry, Conrad and Joe, but both Mt. Rushmore and the Badlands were well worth the stop - I hope you both return some day and see them for real!

He just had to try it....

What do you get when you take a man with his 4x4, add some soft (very soft) beach sand, a view of the Captain Cook Inlet, snow covered mountains in the background, a warning sign saying that the black beach sand is very soft, and what do you get? IAN IAN IAN! That's right, IAN! Yes, he just couldn't resist it. That view, the sand, his 4x4. After all, what was the 4x4 made for if not for driving in very soft sand at a beach in Alaska? (Maybe keeping it in tip-top condition so it can pull us out of Alaska in a few months??)

Today was very windy and very cold - too much so to work outside, so this afternoon we drove into town to get Ian's fishing license. Rather than coming straight back to the campground, we decided to take a different route that runs along the Cook Inlet. The water is still pretty gray, and fairly choppy, but the view of the mountains on the other side was spectacular. We were surprised that the few houses built along the coast were not very large, none were made of brick, there were no very large or fancy ones like you'd see along the coast of the lower 48, and there were just as many that looked like Mad Max had lived there. There was a lot of vacant land, too, which is where we found the dirt road to the beach with the warning sign. Ian had no qualms about taking the truck out onto it, even after I pointed out that the ruts already there were several inches deep, and that 4x4 usually means ATV, not a 3/4 ton truck like ours. SO, he put it into 4-wheel drive, hit the pedal, and had no problems going forward. OK, I thought, maybe it'll work after all. Nope, no such luck. The problem came when he turned the wheel. Suddenly, the tires were turning, but we were going no where but down.

I bit my tongue as slowly, but not as deeply (or, I'd have only half a tongue left), as our 4x4 sunk. Interesting, I thought, how the back end seemed quite a bit lower than the front end. Then, I thought how interesting it would be to phone Good Sam Emergency Road Service again. "What?" they'd shriek! "You used up your life time worth of privileges when we towed you 300 miles in Canada!" Plus, we weren't really on a road any more, so would they even talk to us, or just use us as fodder for office laughter?

I advised Ian that when this happened to Donna and me on the Biscayne Causeway in Miami, back when we were 18 and I was driving Mom's car, we used the rubber floor mats to get traction under the tires. It didn't work then, either, but did attack some cute guys who pulled the car out. Since there were no cute boys around today, or no one else for that matter, the floor mats would not work. "I have to let some air out of the tires," was Ian's conclusion as he jumped out into the wind. It took a while, but he finally got back in the truck, got it to go back a few feet, then gunned it forward. The truck shuddered on the sand, I was pushing the dashboard while telling Ol' Betsy she could do it, Ian kept saying it's no problem, and finally, slowly, very slowly we made our way to higher ground. As if nothing ever happened, we got to the main road once again, admired the water and mountains as we drove along, then Ian said the only thing that had concerned him was if the tide came in while we were stuck. Yeah, that would have been a problem. Well, one thing I've always said, and it's still true - life with Ian is never boring!

Just a few minutes back on the road, we saw two animals grazing along side the road. From the distance they looked like big shorn sheep. When we got close enough, we realized they were caribou! Sure wish we had our camera with us, as we were within 10 feet of them. As if that wasn't enough, a little further down the road was a moose! We had to back up to within 25 feet of him, he looked up at us and turned around, as if to say if we don't see his face, we won't see him (kind of like when Scot was little - he thought as long as he couldn't see us, we couldn't see him). Mr. Moose slowly brought his head around to check if we were still there, so we slowly rolled forward enough for him to turn around again. Lucky for us, traffic on these roads is still minimal - the tourist haven't really come in yet.

OK, the last thing I want to throw in today is some of the street's names. Today we passed Old Timer's Lane, Kalifornsky Rd, and - my favorite, Wazoo Rd. Yeah, to find my house, just go up the Wazoo!

Of Bald Eagles and Cow Paddies

Ian was working up the hill in the garden, pulling up last year's plastic, and I was raking leaves around the RV park area when Ian started calling my name. Awright, I figured, is this one of those times when he calls me away from what I'm doing to do something for him that he could very well have done himself, but since he's doing something already, he can't be interrupted, but it's OK to interrupt me. Or, is it really going to be worth my while to hike up to where he is? Something in his voice told me the latter, so I dropped the rake and quickly made my way up to where he was. "There, up on those two tall trees, right there! Two bald eagles!" Sure enough, they had circled over Ian (were they waiting for him to unearth a worm, or did they think he was the worm?), then chose to perch on the tippity-tops of two tall pines. One was all brown, but the other had the famous white head. (We were told by the park owner that they don't get the white head 'til they're about 5 years old). I went and got the binoculars out of the truck and when I got back, they were still there. We watched for a little while as they swayed with the wind and turned their heads around, probably just watching out for themselves. The owners said it wasn't long ago that there were 10 bald eagles flying overhead and perching in their trees.

A little while later, one of the boys (goes by the nickname of Toad) asked me to walk with him to his grandmother's house to get his bike. It would be a welcome break, and his grandmother lives in the B&B which I hadn't seen yet, so was curious. Once we got there, the brother that goes by the nickname of Maggot joined us, apparently just to tease Toad. As we started walking back, though, Maggot pointed to a flattened pile on the dirt road, and as he reached to pick it up, asked if I knew what it was. "Eywww, of course," said I. "It's a cow paddy." "No," said he as he reached his arm behind his shoulder, then let the paddy fly out of his hand. "It's a frisbee." No laughing, no "ha, ha," just pure country truth. This wasn't the first time in the last few days that I've thought of that old children's story about the city mouse who visits its country mouse cousin.

We also observed some turkeys strutting their stuff on the property, so asked Blair the owner about them. He said turkeys that grow wild like that have only dark meat, and yes, one of them will grace their table on Thanksgiving. How do they catch them? With a 22 through the eye. Why dont' they leave the property? As long as the family keeps throwing out food for them, they won't roam. (Maybe I should whisper in their ears what's about to happen in six months!)

Blair also told us about how the southerners (anyone from the lower 48) come up to live in Alaska and think there are no restrictions any more. They let their dogs run lose, which only allows them to join up with other previously domesticated dogs, and chase the moose into the roads, which in turn get hit by the cars. So far this year there have been nearly 150 killed on the roads in the Kenai Peninsual alone! These undisciplined dogs also attack the smaller wildlife, so word is getting around that if there's a dog on your property that isn't yours, it's free game to shoot. I had a little talk with Mac this evening just in case he should think that now he's in Alaska, he can live free and wild like a wild dog from Borneo. Hopefully, he took the hint.

It was a bit windy again today and about 50 degrees, or a little more. Even though normally that would be cold, it was perfect for doing the yard work Ian and I were doing. Well, we'll see what tomorrow brings - if it's worth repeating, I'll be back!

Baby Llama

This morning was the start of a very good day. The Diamond M Ranch where we're working is a working ranch/farm in addition to having an RV park, B&B, and cabins for rent. Ronna and Blair, the owners, and parents of 5 home-schooled children, raise horses, cows, llamas, chickens, rabbits, pigs, and who knows what else. This livestock sustains their family, teaches the kids responsibility, and serves as endless learning and entertainment experiences. So, I'm sure I appeared as the stereo-type city girl when the fact that a llama had been born this morning had me thrilled, excited, and hardly able to wait to see it and take pictures. Blair, two of his children, and I hurried down to the pasture, circled slowly around the liverstock so as not to scare the mama llama (I also noticed I was the only one watching where I was stepping), and gradually got right up to the baby. She was trying to stand, a couple times made it up, just to fall back down again. She was all black and her hair was short and soft. I noticed a couple times when I tried to pet her head, she pulled it away - that's when Blair said llamas don't like their heads touched. It's surprising that it's in their genes, not a learned trait. I've heard that about alpacas, and I guess they're kissing cousins. Anyway, the mama llama stayed close by and let Blair know not to get too familiar with her offspring, but she didn't seem to mind the kids and me petting it. Blair pointed out that the baby still had her "socks" on her feet, a thick piece of skin over her hooves that protect the mama's womb shen she is inside. Hmm, I never knew that, but it makes sense. I took way too many pictures, and had little Sonoma (the soon-to-be 5-year old daughter) take a couple of me with the baby. One of these days I'll get pictures on this blog site, but one thing at a time!

Today was our first real work day, although tomorrow we'll meet with the owners to discuss what their priorities are for us to work on. Ian started making a lean-to for them today, so he was in hog heaven. I started raking the dead leaves from last fall - I found it to be a mindless job which was relaxing and allowed me time to just let my mind wander, reflect, and appreciate how fortunate we are to have this experience. After a couple hours I took a run into the town of Kenai to go to the post office and stopped for a mocha at Starbucks before returning to the leaves.

We knocked off around 4:00 and as I was making dinner a little later, Sonoma came a-knocking at the door. She came on in, made herself comfortable on the couch and proceeded to be a proper little guest. Very talkative, but not annoying. She asked if she could help me make dinner, so I invited her to stay to eat. I wrote a note which she took to her mother, and she quickly returned with her mother's permission. I've never seen a little girl eat like that - half a steak, a full baked potatoe, canned pears, and a container of yogurt with whipped cream on it! She's very sweet. Her oldest brother rides around on a uni-cycle. I'd kind of like to give it a try, but know I'd smash something. The oldest, a 15-year old girl, is very mature and serious natured. I think she has had a lot of responsibility with feeding and caring for the animals over the years. The other two, both boys, are typical boys, proud of their tree house, ride bikes everywhere on the property, and have nic-names, like Toad and Maggot, for each other. Blair, the dad, is very tall and, in Ian's opinion, resembles Weird Al Yankovich. I think he looks more like George Harrison when he had long, wavy hair. Ronna, the mom, runs the whole show - someone has to do it, and it may as well be a well organized woman, right? She keeps everything on track, running like greased wheels, yet is very sweet and layed back. It's really a nice family - I think we're going to be sorry to leave here when the time comes.

We actually got two stations on the TV today!! I was so happy so I could watch Dancing with the Stars and The Bachelor finale. I'm so glad he chose Shane! The reception was poor, but I'm not going to complaine when we didn't think we were going to have any TV at all.

That's about it for today, kids. It's just after 11:00 p.m. and just starting to get dark. Time to hit the sack, anyway. See ya!

Beautiful Alaska

We made it! We crossed the border a few days ago, re-entering the U.S. through NO customs. No wonder people like us get back in. Anyway, it was surreal to finally be in Alaska. It's been a life-long dream of mine to see it and a 40-year dream of Ian's to quit hearing me talk about it. So, our dreams have come true! And, here all this time, we thought they came true when we got married.

We stopped to take pictures with the "Welcome to Alaska" signs and scanned the information tablets. Apparently it took surveyors 50 years to map the border between Canada and Alaska. It was all done manually, of course, with the surveyors tramping through the woods, lakes, rivers, mountains, marking the way as they went. (I think I would have just waited for computer chips and real surveying equipment to be invented.) Anyway, we hit the road, headed for Tok, the last town on the Alaskan Highway. There, we got gas again (back down to just under $5 a gallon - in Canada it was around $7 a gallon), free coffee for Ian being military at one time (we came to find that Alaska appreciates the military members whenever they possibly can), and a sticker for Montana's back window that reads I drove the Alaska Highway. We had decided that we wanted to try dry camping (on our own, in the wilderness, not at an RV park), so we started checking out the rest areas. The snow capped mountains surrounded us continuously - it was breath taking, and we imagined how wonderful it would be to be all by ourselves, alone with nature. We had already found that in Canada, and now in Alaska, none of the rest areas have toilets (oh, I take that back - there were a couple that had an outhouse). (It really didn't matter to us since we use Montana's toilet - just thought I'd throw in that little tidbit of information.) So, of course, the rest area Ian decides is THE one, has "No Trespassing" signs posted on the trees around it. I took that to mean, no overnight camping. Ian took it to mean it meant no one else could trespass, but we could. Within no time, we're all set up, all 4 slides out, Mac is sniffing the trees and trying to eat dried droppings from some wild animal, and I'm keeping my eyes on the road, just knowing a police car will come along any minute and either give us a hefty fine or haul us off to jail. We set our lawn chairs out and watched Mother Nature at its best for a while. We didn't see any wild life, and eventually ate some dinner and went to bed. Ian fell into a dead sleep immediatley, but I kept waiting for the police to find us. When they didn't show up, I figured a gang would find us, kill us all, and take off with the truck and maybe even Montana, too. When that didn't materialize, I finally decided to heck with it, and fell asleep.

By now the days were getting longer and we were waking earlier and earlier because even with the shades down, it was daylight inside by 5 a.m. So, we were on the road again by 7. Finally, we saw wild life. Mama Moose and her baby decided to see what was on the other side of the road and crossed just in front of us. Thankfully, we weren't going too fast to stop and take pictures. A bit further down the road, a large male moose (I think it was the baby's daddy, but Ian' doesn't think so) was drinking at the edge of a pond that had started to thaw. When we stopped to take pictures, he looked up, then went about his business. I guess he figured a truck full of whackos and a fearless (ha,ha) dog was no match, so why bother?

Every turn in the road brought another mountain and/or another frozen lake. The ice in the lakes was a strange blue color, I guess from the icebergs. Some of the rivers were thawing and had ice floats moving slowly along. We actually saw where an iceberg had cut its way through the mountain, leaving its mark on the ground, and leaving some of the iceberg itself. God did a wonderful job on this state.

We eventually made our way to Anchorage and got a spot at Elmondorf AFB campground. After stocking up with groceries, we went to check out the city. What a strange place. I've never seen a more utilitarian place in my life. All the buildings were square or rectangle, very plain, no decorative doorways or windows. Not attractive at all. Of course, Ian's Scottish nose sniffed out an Irish pub that had Guinness on tap, so we pulled over and put quarters in the meter. It turned out to be probably the cleanest and nicest smelling (no smoking allowed here!) pub I've been in in a long time. The waitress made Ian's day by pouring the Guiness properly, creating just the right amount of fizz on top (there's a name for that, but Ian is asleep already, and I figure those who really care will know), and she made mine by presenting me with a beautiful piece of Bailey's Cheesecake. Wowee!! After leaving the pub, we rode around the town a bit more, decided that man had not done such a great job with the city, and returned to the base for the night.

Once we got to Anchorage we had good cell coverage again, so Ian called the insurance company and it looks like he sweet-talked them into paying for the new hitch after all. He also called the hitch company and told them what happened - can you believe that it's happened before??? Why in the world would they not have recalled them? Do we know how to spell law suit? No, we won't go that route, but will try to at least get them to pay for the gas for the 1,000 mile trip to get the new hitch. They want us to send it to them so they can examine it. You can bet your boopy that we have lots of pictures of it, just in case they "never receive" the old one.

The next morning we set out for Kenai, where we will spend the next 3 months. I'll save that story for next time, though. Now that you're relaxed, bored to death, and half asleep, I'll leave you be. 'Til next time!

Wowee!

I have added a new word to my vocabulary - wowee has overtaken wow. I noticed this affliction taking hold the further northwest we traveled through the Yukon Territory (anyone remember Sgt. Preston of the Yokon, and his trusted dog, King?) Wowee became the first word out of my mouth every time we took a turn in the road and feasted on the site of more snow-capped mountains, seeming to sit upon a frozen lake the color of blue ice. The mountains of the Yukon, and then in Alaska, are a strange shape, kind of like fat upside down ice-cream cones. Their fat, billowing bottoms come up to sharp peaks, pointing skyward. They don't seem to be connected, causing a fairly flat bottom across the sky like other mountain ranges we've seen. In a lot of cases, they were so high that banks of clouds circled just below the peaks.

OK, so much for mountains. Now, the roads. We have come to the conclusion that the ruts, washboard effect, and frozen ice mounds on the Canadian roads contributed to the breakdown of Montana's hitch. So, we really hoped the roads would get better once we finally left Watson Lake. No such luck. The ruts got ruttier, the ice mounds became moundier, and the washboards were still looking for a good washing. Every little creak coming from the new hitch made Ian and me freeze and quickly look in the side mirrors. After a couple days, we started relaxing and hitting the ruts again. (Not really. Well, really, but not at 10 mph any more - we upped it to 15.) Whenever we stopped for gas and mentioned the bad roads to the Canadians, they very proudly announced it was their ice heaves. One thing we found almost amusing was that a few feet before a bump in the road, there was a sign with the international symbol for bump on it. Well, sometimes there were. If not the sign, there were red flags put on the side of the road where the bump was. That didn't give you much time to slow down, but I guess it covered the Canadian DOT's you know what. If there wasn't a sign or a flag, there sometimes was an orange construction cone by the side of the road. Then, there were the bumps that came just about the time we were relaxing, relying on any of the three Canadian signs for bump. Yep, that's when the bump was there, but there was no warning! Slamming on the brakes ensued, along with "Ian, slow down!" on my part and *@#&#!+%@&$# on Ian's part. We decided in the end that it was a left wing Canadian conspiracy to see how many American vehicles could make it to Alaska with their suspension system still in tact. Let alone their campers!

Once we crossed into Alaska, the roads were considerably better. At least our tax dollars are being spent on the roads up north. Never mind that the roads in Pennsylvania and New Jersey
rattle the body's bones to slivers - the Eskimos have a good ride, whether it's on their roads or the ice.

Biggest Mall of All

OK, let's back up to Edmonton, Alberta, our first stop in Canada. Scot was going to be there on business about the same time, so we timed it so we could meet him there. In case we got there early, he said the world's largest mall is there. Well, that was enough encouragement to get us there plenty early! I should say "I" rather than "we" since Ian had no desire to see the world's biggest mall. I'll never understand him! So, I warned him the night before that I would be gone many hours, so don't be looking for me at 2:00 in the afternoon. Somehow, he didn't seem too bothered by that; and in fact, he said he'd put his free time to good use, watching "Deadwood" on the DVDs that our god-daughter gave us in Omaha. (Now, really, weigh Deadwood in one hand and the world's largest mall in the other - who wins? Shouldn't even be a question.)

Anyway, I set out about 9:30 and found my way to the mall with no problem. Isn't it funny, the first place I found was a very unique bakery. The windows displayed exquisite wedding cakes of all sizes, shapes, colors, and toppers ranging from the traditional wedding couples to spraklers. Inside, it was cafeteria style, with individual pieces of cakes, pies, cookies, all kinds of goodies, wrapped and set out on trays. After getting your empty tray at the start of the line, you pile on all you want, pay at the end, and sit outside the store, watching the other shoppers envy your table as they pass by. Now, some of the desserts were so special, that they were behind the glass and the cashier had to get it for you, like my very yummy mango-berry cheesecake. I've never thought of tht combination, but believe me, it's a good one. Even Cheesecake Factory hasn't come up with that one yet.

Leaving the bakery behind, I started my exploration of this wonderland. Store after store after store after store. The mall seemed to be made up of arms reaching in all directions from the center circle. Each arm was in a different decor, such as New Orleans or Italian, featuring restaurants and store fronts from those areas. To be honest, the stores at the mall didn't impress me much, as they're pretty much the same all over. But, my first "wow" moment came when I happened upon the ice skating rink right in the middle of the whole mall. Oh, what a surprise! It happened to be the time set aside for seniors, so I watched from above as elderly people of all ages glided both forward and backward, old couples skating in tandem, arms entwined, chatting in their own little world. One older lady actually was doing twirls and another one was skating so fast I couldn't imagine her daring. As I watched these seniors having such a gentle, romantic, energizing time to themselves, I envied their lack of self-consciousness and wondered at what a wonderful means of low impact exercise is offered the seniors of Edmonton.

I saw an IMAX theater and thought what fun it would be to watch a movie there. Unfortunately, they were only showing a rock & roll film, and after watching the iceskating, I was so relaxed that I didn't want to spoil my mood, so opted out of the IMAX. Good thing, as I strolled away, I saw that a sea lion show was getting read to start. I sat on a bench overlooking the small pool and watched as the two female trainers ran a couple sea lions through their routine. I learned these particular sea lions were from Scotland! The show rivaled any I've seen , so I was impressed once again - who'd have thought that Sea World had come to a mall in Edmonton, Canada?

When I thought there couldn't possibly be any more to this mall, I happened upon the beach!! Now, I'm a beach person, so I was enthralled. Oh, how I wish I'd brought my bathing suit! The place was huge, had sand (or cement made to look like sand), beach chairs, palm trees, waves in the water that started out shallow and gradually got deep, just like the ocean. There were families riding the waves and just having a great time pretending they were somewhere a couple thousand miles south. I imagined what it must be like in December when there are three feet of snow outside, temperatures hovering around zero, to be able to go to Florida without ever buying an airline ticket.

The Edmonton mall is a secret - it's a treasure just north of our border. I've heard we have something similar in Minnesota, but who in the world wants to go to Minnesota? I think we should start a movement in the U.S. to make it madatory to have a mall in every state that provides options other than shopping. What a wonderful thing!

Well, the next day we spent getting ready for Scot and his sales rep from Seattle joining us for dinner. I made Scot's favorite cake, German Chocolate from scratch, thawed the steaks, made the salad dressing and got the taters ready. It was so surreal, but so wonderful to see him in a place we'd never been before. We had a great evening talking travel and old times. The next morning Scot returned to have breakfast with us before going to his sales meeting. After he left we did our routine for hitting the road, and got on our way, still heading north.

More next time! (Today Ian went back to Whitehorse to get the new hitch installed. Hopefully, he won't have any problems getting that done. I spoke with State Farm today, and of course our insurance doesn't cover the hitch since it wasn't caused by an accident. I told the woman, it WAS the accident, but that doesn't count. Sometimes I really wonder why we pay vehicle insurance! Ian should be back this evening, and then we'll be on our way in the morning again. As the other RVs have been pulling out the last couple mornings, we've felt like we were being left behind, out of the parade. It's time we catch up!

Don't you just hate that sound?

Don't you just hate the sound of a thud, then feel a jarring motion shove you forward a bit, and you don't know what's causing it? That was our first thought when the hitch holding the 5th wheel (goes by the name of Montana) to the truck broke into 3 pieces, allowing Montana to slam down on the sides of the truck. The full 15,000 pounds were held back by Ian's tool box and a piece of wood he'd put in the back. Oh, by the way, I was driving, so this will be forever my fault! The fact that he had a tool box there and had just thrown in that piece of wood willy-nilly was his fault, so the fact that we didn't have Montana up on the front seat with us was his fault! Anyway, needless to say, our day was spent. Previous to Montana moving, we had been enjoying a beautiful, sunny day, showcasing the unbelievable mountains, lakes, peaks, and wildlife that northern British Columbia has to offer. It's such gorgeous country - at times we felt we were in Switzerland, or western Montana, or even parts of New Foundland, but different. Towns were few and far between, and usually consisted of a gas station, and if you're lucky, an RV park, most of which weren't open yet. The day before, we drove into a raging snow storm, wondering if we should have purchased chains after all, but then, who ever heard of chains on an RV??? We decided to get gas at the top of the mountain, as did every other trucker, RV, car, and truck that made it there. Unfortunately, we couldn't get Montana turned around to continue north, so had to retrace our steps southward 'til we found an area to to a 5-prong turn. It was a blessing in disguise, though, as at the gas station we met a young couple, Katie and Chad, from Grand Rapids, MI on their way to Alaska. They asked to follow us, as this was their first experience pulling a large 5th wheel through weather conditiosn such as that. They had already gotten turned around, so waited for us to make it back to the top, and we caravanned to the next open RV park. We got to know them a bit better, and what nice young people that are, as we found out the next day when Montana decided to depart. Also, just an hour or so before Montana rebelled, we stopped at a rest area to make lunch and let Mac stretch his old legs. There, we met a couple on their way back to Alaska from Arizona, where they winter over. Another wonderful couple, as we found out shortly. OK, back to the side of the road with Montana now completely off the truck, and who should show up but Katie and Chad from the day before and the other couple from the rest area. The men examined the hitch, realizing that one side of it had already been broken a while, and we had been traveling and hauling on borrowed time. We women just stayed out of their way and gave moral support to each other. Then, another car stopped, Air Force retirees who saw our Air Force sticker on the truck and couldn't NOT stop. Well, the men got it all figured out, and before we knew it, Chad, the young man, unhitched his 5th wheel, hitched Montana to his truck (he hadn't figured out that he was dealing with a rebellious animal!), and towed it to the next rest area. Oh, I failed to mention that we had already been without cell phone service for days, and even the OnStar which touts world wide service, could not be contacted. Luckily, there was a log cabin down the road from which Ian was able to call Good Sam Emergency Road Service (thank goodness we had decided when we left Alabama to get this service, just in case!) Seven hours later, a tow truck came from the next closest town, towed Montana, as we followed, to Watson Lake (a 3 hour trip), Yukon Territory, where we now sit. Ian trucked 5 hours yesterday to the next larger town (Whitehorse) that actually had an RV supply store to find that yes, they had a hitch for us, but no, they couldn't install it 'til Monday. So, tomorrow he'll make the 10-hour round trip once again, but we should be able to be on our way Tuesday. We just may stay that night in Whitehorse!

Well, I haven't posted anything since the first posting because I couldn't figure out how. Our tekky son, Scot, though caught up with us in Edmonton, Alberta (no matter how far we go, they still find us!) and explained it, so here I am. I have a lot to catch up on, but will save it for a later blog. I don't want to overwhelm you! Just wanted to let you know of our latest little adventure inside the bigger adventure. We're OK, the truck and Montana are OK, God had this all in His hands, obviously, as it could have been so much worse! And putting the right people in the right place to make the situation so much easier to cope with is priceless.