Column: Tales from Exit 22

I enjoy travel.

I enjoy being home.

I’d rather be where I am than be wishing I were somewhere else.

I worked in Southeast Alaska in November. I’ve worked in Arizona where people reminded me that it was a dry heat. In Ketchikan (holder of the highest zip code extant, 99950), 160 inches of rain falls annually, I suppose it is a dry rain. I lodged in Haines after taking a ferry from Juneau. Juneau is larger in area than Delaware and gets 85 inches of snow a year.

The trip on the LeConte ferry induced a state of drowsy contentment that I refer to as a kef. Sleep follows and it’s not safe to nap around photographers (and everyone carried a camera). Travel brings about the kind of sleep that’s not attractive for anyone older than 3. Drool was a common photographic subject.

The travel itinerary that I cobbled together included a place to stay that had both a microwave and a coffee maker. They were functional, but I dared not use them simultaneously because it would blow a fuse. It reminded me of my boyhood home that was seriously lacking in electrical outlets. Its wall sockets were overloaded with extension cords. I helped by holding a flashlight while my father replaced fuses. Our flashlights were nothing more than receptacles for dead batteries.

I’ll never forget my father’s words in appreciation of my flashlight holding skills, “What part of, ‘Hold the light so I can see,’ didn’t you understand?”

In the midst of the countless bald eagles along the Chilkat River near Haines was an eagle with white feathers on the end of its wings. It was as if it were turning into snow.

Many residents of Southeast Alaska wear brown boots called Xtratufs. Xtratufs have a rugged tread with deep grooves. Originally designed for commercial fishermen, the sole is slip resistant on boat decks and the neoprene lining keeps fish oils from penetrating the rubber. Xtratufs are made in Rock Island, Ill., by Norcross, which sells about 100,000 pairs of the boots each year — over a third of those in Alaska.

Some call them “Juneau tennis shoes.” People joke of being born wearing Xtratufs. Function becomes fashion and brides get married while wearing them. The boots go well with Carhartt pants and come in handy for road repair. When a man steps into a pothole and the water comes over the top of his boots, it’s time to fix the pothole.

Haines was icy enough that at least one store was sold out of ice cleats for shoes. The need is great enough that the fire department offers coupons for 50 percent off cleats. Cleats turn regular footwear into studded tires for humans and provide better traction in slippery environments.

A black bear fed upon apples persisting in a tree not far from our abode. Police shot it with a tranquilizer and hauled it to a place for bears that eat apples from trees. Bears take in as much as 200,000 calories a day to bulk up for winter.

Pam Randles related as to how biologists studied the hibernating temperatures of bears by entering a bruin’s den and utilizing a rectal thermometer. A dream job.

Joe Ordonez, a tour leader who lives on Mosquito Lake (aptly named) outside of Haines, told me that when his daughter Sapphire was born, he and his wife moved to a hotel in Juneau for a few weeks so they could be near a hospital. That was required because the pizza place in Haines does not deliver — pizza or babies.

Juneau, the state capital, is 90 miles from Haines and is accessible by only air or water. All roads may lead to Rome, but none led to Juneau. Sapphire is a healthy young lady. I suspect she was born wearing Xtratufs.

Joe is attempting to tie tours to a program that is featured on the Discovery Channel. “Gold Rush” tells the story of gold mining at the Porcupine Mine. I saw no one suffering from a bad back from lugging gold around.

What’s snew in Haines? Snow. It snowed so much it had to be kept in banks. It pleased snow machine (a snowmobile in Alaska) riders.

While I was in Haines, it not only snowed, it rained, it slushed, it iced, and the winds blew. It was beautiful.

Eleanor Roosevelt wrote, “The purpose of life, after all, is to live it, to taste experience to the utmost, to reach out eagerly and without fear for a newer and richer experience.”

 

Hartland resident Al Batt’s columns appear every Sunday and Wednesday.