Dang, one of these days I think I might quit building. I hate being up on a ladder and working on a roof, even a flat roof that is supposed to be the 2nd story floor once the cabin is done, is still working on a roof.
The cabin is small, only 16 X 24 feet and was supposed to be a 2 story cabin which is okay for a young couple just starting out. However, due to several different reasons, it is going to only be one story so we will see how they like the togetherness this winter and if they will get around and help better next season to actually double their living space. I digress.
Yesterday and today, the stars were in alignment and everyone was doing more than their share, so an entirely unprofessional crew of (3) volunteers put the upstairs floor joists in and decked it. Then today, we added a good vapor barrier that will hopefully keep it mostly waterproof, then a layer of foam board. Some old blue stuff I have had on hand since I built the cabin near town over 25 years ago that my daughter and I unearthed from it‘s storage area farther down the hill. Then white roofing membrane.
I think the three of us that ended up on the deck are probably the worst cases of fear of heights around, although my daughter is probably at champ at that. She has managed to do some of the ladder work on this job and continues trying to get better at it. I am proud of her. My other two helpers up on top today are so welcome for their help. I could not have unfolded that white roofing membrane and spread it out as well as they did. It is salvage stuff and not without it’s problems, but it should work. We put a triple layer of foam board down the center of the roof, to keep the seams raised, since we don’t have a way to seal it. Then 16 foot 2 x 6’s were placed on top over the seam to hold the membrane until the weight of snow does the job.
I used some red tops over the sides to nail the membrane to the top plate on the walls. Yeah, I stayed on my belly and reached over. None of this just crouching over and reaching waaaay down without probably just toppling on over. Did I mention I hate heights?



Many years ago, it was illegal to leave a hitchhiker stranded, without at least offering a ride. After the population changed attitudes and values and people were getting robbed or murdered, the law was removed from the books. But it is still hard for me to pass a hitchhiker in remote areas of the road system without at least stopping and making the offer of a ride.
So, when driving back from closing our mining camp, late in the Autumn on a road that is not maintained year around and seeing a person by the side of the road, I slowed down to stop.
Light snow was falling and the wind was blowing it around in swirls on the roadbed as I came across the high tundra above the main Flats far below. I had not seen another vehicle all day and the road would close if this snow continued. The fellow far ahead had jumped down out of the road grader parked off the edge of the road, so I assumed he was the operator. (I know, I know,‘assumed”)
For some reason, I put my handgun on my lap under my jacket and held it in my left hand when I stopped to offer assistance.
The fellow jumped in my old pickup and was shivering badly, not dressed for the weather, wearing a light jacket, no hat, no gloves and no warm boots, just shoes. I was just about to let my handgun rest in my lap, to make shifting gears easier, when he slid across the seat until his knee was pressed against my thigh and one hand was on the seat back, touching the back of my neck.
I kept the gun in hand and shifted awkwardly but trying not to show how scared I suddenly was. He started fiddling with my hair and asked me if I was ever afraid of getting raped.
I pulled my gun up, cocking it as I raised it, aimed directly at him and said, “Not really.”
I thought the man was going to go right through my door he slid back across the seat so fast. I was driving at a fairly good speed by now and he hugged the door for the next 25 miles, until we reached the turn off for a small town. I held the gun on him the entire 25 miles, he kept his mouth shut and hugged the door. The gun had a hair trigger, so if one bump or rattle went wrong, this story would have had a different ending. When I slowed down at the turn, he had the door open and didn’t even wait for me to completely stop, he bailed out.
If that was supposed to be a pick up line, it was lame. If he actually had intentions to follow through, I have no idea. But since he had not actually done anything but touch me and say something inappropriate and stupid, I had no evidence to turn him in to the Troopers in town. At that time, having a concealed weapon was illegal, so I would probably have been the one in trouble.

I’m in Love


I’m in love. The first time we spent the night together, I thought it might be a passing fancy, but now I am positive it is true love. That warm feeling inside when ever I think about our time together, the longing to be together again, missing spending more time in our own little cocoon of warmth and happiness. This is the stuff of dreams.
With the onset of winter, here in Alaska, just thinking about all those cold nights we will be spending together makes me feel happy inside. Even my cats love you. Every time I see them snuggled up on you, it makes me smile. Yes, this is love.
I make sure every night when I turn on the generator, that I smooth out all the little wrinkles from your surface. An electric blanket has to be treated with care.

A Late Night in Alaska


From my Journal
May 29, 2011
Last night, my daughter and I went out to see my grandson at the mining claims and try to help them figure out what they are doing. On the way home, we saw a beautiful blond grizzly, toklat coloring, and were ooOoing and ahhhing over it running across the road, when a humungous grizzly came booking out of the brush and across in front of us, if we hadn’t of stopped he would have possibly bowled over the little toyota pickup, he was huge.
All I could think is, the hunting season is still open and if someone had stopped and shot the lovely blond griz, and started walking up to it, and that huge dark griz came tearing out of the brush, that certainly would have been an “Oh sh*t” moment.
We didn’t want to deter him on his way and don’t think if he was determined, that the truck would have been much protection, crunchy on the outside, soft and chewy, other than all that screaming, on the inside.

Jeep Tracks

You want to hear a true story about taking vehicles where they were never meant to go? My Dad took our little Jeep to the top of the north Sister, of the 3 Sisters in the Cascades Range back in the 1950‘s, using the winch. So there are Jeep tracks up there.
Same year, he was driving in two ruts he thought was a road going around a mountain in the Steens Mountains in SE Oregon, then the ruts crossed, it was cow trails and no place to turn around, so all us kids had to hang on the uphill side to keep the Jeep from rolling, (cloth top and no roll bars) Our butts were dragging the rocks and brush as he inched around the whole dang mountain. Our feet were up on the metal sides and hanging onto the string ties the roof was fastened on with. Since then, I have wondered how lucky we were to not have a string break.
He always said if it was driven once, it was a trail, twice, it’s a road and 3 times it is a highway. He was convinced he could make that Jeep go anywhere. Most of the time he was right.