Along the Journey

Poor little fellow.

Most everyone knows a wild animal with her young, even a small bird, can be a fierce protector. While driving along the Kenai Peninsula Highway toward our campground, I spied a little, brownish red moose calf standing on a dirt driveway. I stopped. The driveway was surrounded by tall brush, tall grass and plenty of deadwood lying about. A 4-foot high chain link property-boundary fence was set perpendicular to the highway, deep in fire weeds and tall grass. My mind was focused on the cow moose, she couldn’t be far off. Praying the fence dividing us would be enough barrier, I moved the truck slowly, positioning it just right, door open in case I needed to make a rapid exit.

TWINS..... Glory be!

Stepping very quietly out of the truck, I approached the chain link fence with great caution. Oh my! Now there was a second calf! YIKES  :) Twins! Where can the mama moose be? I started shooting. My camera quit. Beep, digital card full! Oh. Boy! Stress! I rushed to erase a few old images mindful that my attention needed to be on my surroundings and the unseen mother. To my amazement, the little calves were moving in my direction. Oh, dear, where can their mother be! They moved curiously but cautiously toward me. I clicked off a couple more images then, Rats! Card full again! Began erasing while simultaneously creeping low along the fence.

Innocents of the Alaskan forest

Where is the mama? I stood up, lifted the camera eye piece toward my eye—there was a sound like munching. I stopped dead. Froze. My eyes scanned the nearby brush just over the fence. Wait a minute, something moved. What? A brown wall. Then munch, munch, m-m-m- munch… again. My eyes were struggling. What was that? Uh-oh! There, not eight feet from me, was the camouflaged mama moose, pulling up plants and munching. I was so close I missed her completely! Large as a barn door, coarse brown hair, her head as big as a Navy duffel bag, her ears at least 14 inches long.  So huge and so close I couldn’t recognize her in her brush cover. Her shoulder was above my head. I had to look up just to see the line of her back. Slowly I backed away. That’s what they say, don’t they? Don’t run, Gulp! I needed a wider camera view and stepped ever so lightly backward, while erasing images and watching her.

Mysterious Missing Mama Moose

I stepped on a brittle branch and it broke…..crack….   Mama bolted and roared out of the bushes scaring the devil out of me. She “bull-moosed” to more brush cover maybe fifty feet off, the calves scrambling too!

Mama Moose glaring back at me,

Moose have a peculiar ambling, John Wayne sort of gait. She stopped and stared back at me. The calves were circling around under the protection of her legs and some bushes. Camera full again!!!  Arrrggghhh. Erased more images, very frustrated.

At the end of the day I had enough successful images to be able to tell this amazing story.

And here is Mama Moose staring back at me. I suppose the calves, are still staring, must see me as an oddity, a one-eyed animal in a Lakota Indian baseball cap!

MORAL: Be sure to erase your image card after downloading your images!

Alaska Railroads Engine 3006, a workhorse with hard working staff.

Settin’ astride the tracks in Palmer, Alaska is the ol’ Engine 3006. In Alaska, as in so much of rural America, the railroad is a powerful presence. Throughout this journey trains have rattled not far off, whistled so close, made themselves known to any who would listen: from Charleston to Chattanooga, from Kansas City to Rapid City, from Calgary to Anchorage the railroad clickety-clacks its rhythm, toots its music, howls its whistle through day and night.

As is true of the lower 48 states, trains of Alaska move goods and people, but in Alaska there is an extra beauty: the luxury passenger trains that bring Alaska to you: Denali Star, Coastal Classic, Glacier Discovery, Aurora Winter Train, Hurricane Turn.

Driving along the George Parks Highway, Alaska Route 3—one parallels the route of the Denali Star, Alaska Railroad’s flagship train: Anchorage to Fairbanks and back, bisecting the state with fantastic double-deck domed railroad travel cars.

Almost midnight Danali Road, Alaska

Route 3 from Denali National Park winds through mountain valleys where one finds it quite spectacular to watch the domed cars glide by, providing their passengers a view of the the wild country like no other. Imagine the sweet luxury of the dining car and attentive staff as the train rolls you through the wildest country you will ever see, slowing for wildlife as much as for local stations in little towns that dot the map.

Davy Registe, Engineer and Ian Frazier, Conductor

At Palmer, I met Ian Frazier, Conductor, and Davy Registe, Engineer, a’settin’ in Engine 3006 on the tracks doing what they do: delivering supplies to maintenance crews who replace rails and ties, repair switches and signals and keep the railroad running smoothly throughout Alaska. Waiting on the call, they were ready to move to a trouble spot, responding on a moment’s notice to a dispatcher’s directions.

There is magic in trains that draws me like a moth to a light bulb.  Behemoth monster trains wield unimaginable power moving tons and tons of cars along miles and miles of track, all driven by men like Ian and Davy whose expertise, physical strength, skill and courage make railroads come alive.

Two stories high!

When I saw the train setting there by the side of the road I couldn’t resist running up, “helloing” up to the engineer. Taking photos of the huge engine staring up at what seemed to be at least two stories higher than me, I ran up front, to dead center between the rails as if the engine were bearing down on me along cold steel tracks, lights ablaze, engine “cooking” with a powerful diesel purr.

What a kick! Those guys came out on the platform and we had a quick chat as their radios quietly spoke the railroad language. Suddenly their eyes lit up and they waved me off— “Gotta Go… we got the call… good luck on your journey, so long and goodbye.“ They were gone. Never had time to ask so many questions. Never had time to ask, “How ‘bout a ride?” I suppose there are regulations but wouldn’t that be a kick, up there in the engine cabin watching the meters and gauges as we roar down the track jumping over moose and bears, elk and caribou. Just the dream of a boy, now a man with the heart of a boy, looking for mischief; a lover of life.

Formidable just sitting there.

“I been working on the railroad
All the live-long day.
I’ve been working on the railroad
Just to pass the time away.

Don’t you hear the whistle blowing,
Rise up so early in the morn;
Don’t you hear the captain shouting,
“Dinah, blow your horn!”

Dinah, won’t you blow,
Dinah, won’t you blow,
Dinah, won’t you blow your horn?
Dinah, won’t you blow,
Dinah, won’t you blow,
Dinah, won’t you blow your horn?

Someone’s in the kitchen with Dinah
Someone’s in the kitchen I know
Someone’s in the kitchen with Dinah
Strummin’ on the old banjo!

Singin’ fi, fie, fiddly-i-o
Fi, fie, fiddly-i-o-o-o-o
Fi, fie, fiddly-i-o
Strummin’ on the old banjo.

Someone’s makin’ love to Dinah
Someone’s making love I know.
Someone’s making love to Dinah
‘Cause I can’t hear the old banjo!”

Grassy plains and tiny oil rigs

Alberta, Canada is a huge producer of beef. Farms stretch mile upon mile in great green expanses with an occasional fence dividing properties  containing the herds. The rolling plains that are the farms are dotted with little pump houses that very quietly make Alberta the largest oil and natural gas producer in the Northern Hemisphere.

Likes waves in the ocean

Cow pies punctuate knee high prairie grasses growing unevenly as far as the eye can see. As the late afternoon sun sinks low on the horizon, wonderful purple shadows are cast upon the land by hills and knolls. Magically lonely, here is where huge buffalo herds once roamed and proud Indian warriors hunted them.

The wind blows on the prairie at a constant rate flapping trousers and jackets, turning human skin to something resembling leather, tanned and tough. In the setting sun, pasture valleys grow colder and wild animals: deer, elk and coyote, begin to wander, searching for sustenance. Not a tree exists here that wasn’t planted by a farmer and believe me that is very few.  Surely, when winter winds blow across this frozen tree-less expanse, it must resemble arctic tundra.

Always curious cattle smile for the camera

Cattle munch on prairie grasses without a prayer of keeping such vast growth under control. It would be as if someone sat you down in a gymnasium, placing before you enough perfectly cooked steaks to cover every inch of gymnasium floor space. Probably better to just munch and not worry about cleaning your plate.

Exploring these plains, wandering about on dirt roads that lead to oil wells is a real treat to a former farm boy. Years ago, Mr. Armando, a farmer in my rural Connecticut neighborhood, allowed me the joy of driving his small Ford tractor to his lower pasture by myself (age 10) to herd-in the milk cows. This was not a careless act on his part. He had allowed me to drive on a few other occasions, teaching me the important secrets of operating a tractor without falling off the seat. The seed was set. Off across the vast expanse of the barn field (vast to a 10-year-old) I drove carefully to the gate. Get-down-and-open the gate; drive through and down the lane between the ivy-covered rock fence walls, the lane center decorated with bunches of daisies. Putt-putting along down the hill approaching another gate; open it, followed by a sharp right turn beneath the towering oak trees casting huge shadows along the stone wall to the upper part of the lower pasture.
The cows, led by lead cow Rosie who always set the pace toward home, were already moving in a choreographed line toward the fence gate I had opened and on to the lane, home to the barn. Going home meant feed and the relief of milking which most cows didn’t seem to mind if you followed the rules and kept your hands warm. In fact, if someone were there to open the gates, the cows, led by Rosie, would have come home at milking time on their own. There were times when I walked to the lower pasture because the tractor was busy and Rosie would give me a ride back.

Cow pond, cool clear water!

Needless to say, when the Alberta plains open up to me with a sign that requests: “Please attend to the gate,” I turn the truck and bee-line across the cattle guard, “DDDRRRRRUUUUPPPP”. On down the dirt road with the tall grass center until it ends up at an oil rig.

Then with no road to follow I do what seems natural. Climb through the deep grass straight up the nearest hill! Shifting into low, up we go, climbing the steep grade till we see nothing but puffy clouds and blue sky over the hood! The deep grass crunches, gravity pushes us back in our seats and the engine roars with delight, all 282 horsepower.  At the crest of te hill we are astounded by the panoramic view. The cab windows and sky light are open and the feeling of riding in an old stage coach fills the senses. Kate exclaims, “Is this legal?” I don’t reply because the indications in my mind are that we will likely get away with it. Spying a small cow pond below, we roller coaster on down, smelling the wonderful fresh fragrance of open grass and sagebrush breaking under the front bumper of the truck. Yeehah!

Then with no road to follow I do what seems natural. Climb through the deep grass straight up the nearest hill! Shifting into low, up we go, climbing the steep grade till we see nothing but puffy clouds and blue sky ahead! The deep grass crunches, gravity pushes us back in our seats and the engine roars with delight.  At the crest we are astounded by the panoramic view. The cab windows and sky light are open and the feeling of riding in an old stage coach fills the senses.

Mama and duckings

The pond is home to clear, clear water and tiny blue dragonflies. A Mama Mallard with her bevy of tiny ducklings look to all the world like rubber ducks in a tub. Wildflowers abound here, surrounding the water’s edge with gentle color and sweet perfumes. Fowers of the tough and wiry prairie type, long and lean with blossoms able to withstand the blustering winds, sharing space with the tall grasses.

Short eared owl takes flight

We just drive. No road. Skipping over the cow flops, watching an occasional coyote or deer, scaring up prairie quail and, at one point, a pair of short eared owls from the deep grass. Kate, standing on the seat hanging out the sunroof, gets a fine shot of the female whose triangular marked eyes look challengingly into the camera lens.

Freedom. No lines. Zooming up and zipping down hills, sweeping around corners and straddling occasional deer trails. The setting sun indicates time to quit. At the highest point of a hill, I bring the truck to a stop. Let the dogs run. Free. No leashes. No sidewalk. No path. Just tall grass. Betsy is in heaven, rolling

Betsy and Minna climb through the talll grass up the hill

around in splendor. Minna, little short Minna, preferring not to put her paws down on scratchy, sharp, itchy prairie grass, slowly walks about like a stalking cat raising paws high with each step.

Off road, that is driving out on open range may not be for everyone. But when you do no harm and leave nothing behind but easy tire prints its a ball. In old westerns we watch old wagons and wagon trains crossing expansive plains and likely think nothing of it.  But on this journey, opportunity is everything. So as they say: JUST DO IT!

Lakota Sioux encampment diorama (courtesy Akta Lakota Museum and Cultural Center)

Since being a small boy (Cub Scout,) I have enjoyed Native American legends and stories. Our Cub Pack was once visited by a “real” Indian Chief in full Indian dress. This chief demonstrated dances and words; then told a story of Indian boys struggling to become strong braves and warriors. I was so impressed, as young minds can be, that I convinced myself I was from Irish-Indian heritage. It opened my eyes to the rich culture of Native Americans. On my bookshelf I have a small collection, which I treasure, of antique, authentic original legends of Native Americans.

Ahearn celebrates Lakota Sioux tribe with new hat.

My visit to the Akta Lakota Museum and Cultural Center in Chamberlain South Dakota renewed my interest in these ancient people. At the center housed at St. Joseph’s Indian School in Chamberlain, South Dakota (www.aktalokota.org) the list of St. Joseph’s successes is long, dating back to 1927.

The words “Akta Lakota,” mean “to honor the people,” and were chosen because the museum is truly intended to honor and preserve the rich culture of the Lakota people and the students at St. Joseph’s Indian School.

The Museum Director, Dixie Thompson, gave us a tour and explained the symbolic Medicine Wheel that is at the heart of Lakota Sioux beliefs. She directed me to the web site to learn more. (www.aktalokota.org)

The Medicine Wheel represents the sacred hoop of life and the four cardinal directions. The belief is that everything about the wheel is representative of something. The round shape of the wheel represents the never-ending circle of life and death. It means the Alpha and the Omega, Beginning and End, and to the Lakota Sioux, unity in the Great Spirit.

Lakota Sioux Medicine Wheel

Inside the circle are two paths which cross in the center. The cross symbolizes the four directions, each offering its own lessons, color, and animal guide as well as the Four Lakota Virtues (see below.) When looking at the Medicine Wheel, begin at the Left. The West, which is the color Black (or Midnight Blue); The top is the North, which is Red; Right is the East, which is Yellow; and the bottom, which is South, is represented by the color White.

The path from East to West is the Path of Spirits, (the Blue Road) the path from South to North represents the Lakota Sioux Physical Walk (the Red Road) and at the center where the paths cross, is representative of the Heart, in this case buffalo symbol but other images such as eagle are also employed.

Above The Medicine Wheel: Freedom of Mind, Body, Spirit.
Below The Medicine Wheel: Nurturing, Mother, Life

Lakota Museum Chamberlain S.D.

The Lakota Virtues
East—Beginnings; purity, family, innocence, amazement of Life
South—Youth: passions of life, friendships, self-control
West—Adulthood: solitude, stillness, going inside oneself, reflection
North—Place of the Ancient Ones Who Have Gone Over: wisdom

St. Joseph’s school makes a huge difference in the lives of Indian children. The museum demonstrates their heritage, culture, and beliefs as well as the great craftsmanship of the Lakota tribe. The Lakota tribe culture is compelling and their story is uplifting. They were among the native peoples caught in “progress” when Europeans swept across the continent.

The Lewis and Clark Expedition traversed the North American continent in the years from 1804 to 1806. During their much celebrated remarkable journey they encountered many peoples who had been native to North America for centuries. Like so many world explorers before them, they told the natives they were now members of a much larger body of people, people who had now taken possession of the Native American lands and that this would bring them riches beyond their imaginations.

Dubbed “Indians” by Columbus, who assumed he had found the West Indies and claimed the lands in the name of Queen Isabella of Spain, Native Americans subsequently were victims of history as Europeans migrated to North America and claimed Indian lands as their own; first the Spanish, then Napoleon when the French overthrew the Spanish Government. Finally Napoleon, in need of money  to fight wars with England and Russia, realized he could not manage such distant lands successfully, determined the lands called Louisiana would be sold for 3¢ an acre to the USA.

In one fell swoop, The Louisiana Purchase doubled the lands claimed by America. Acclaimed by many, disparaged by the short-sighted of the time, the purchase likely became the most important land purchase of the previous 300-500 years.

The Native American tribes who lived for centuries on the lands claimed ownership, but soon possession was lost to the greater strength of European immigrants supported by US Calvary.

The plight of Native Americans is a sad old story familiar to most Americans. Please realize though, that the story is not over. Descendents of those tribes live on today; some on reservations and some have melded into the fiber of the conglomerate of American peoples. All are Americans. All deserve the respect of their neighbors. As with all Americans, some contribute more and some less, but the Declaration of Independence declares us all equal. “Dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal.”

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Sacred Buffalo Symbol of the Divine

The Legend of the Sacred Buffalo demonstrates how the people wasted no part of the animal and what an important symbol it was to them and their way of life.  I have reprinted it here from <www.stjo.org/site> the St. Joseph’s Indian School website because the words describe far better than I ever could, the wisdom of the Lakota people.
(Adapted from Ron Zeilinger’s LAKOTA LIFE)

“Tatanka or buffalo in Lakota lore is held in high regard by the Lakota people. Respected as a symbol of the divine because the buffalo was a ‘banquet’ for the people.

The creature gave up its own flesh and life to feed them. It provided for their every need by way of sheltering them with its hide over their tipis; covering their bodies as clothing and their feet as moccasins.

Tatanka also provided everyday utensils such as needle and thread, awls, bowls and more. In this way, the buffalo was a true relative for the people—making life possible.

Because of the buffalo’s great importance to the people, a buffalo symbol or buffalo skull is present in all sacred Lakota rituals. It stands as a reminder of this great animal which gives completely of itself for others.

The buffalo is a symbol of self-sacrifice; it gives until there is nothing left. This was imitated by the people in their lives. To be generous and give what you have to others in need, or to honor them, is one of the most highly respected ways of acting or being.”

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A code to which we can all aspire.

The incredible Corn Palace in Mitchell, South Dakota

Conceptual Mural Art

One might imagine that the Corn Palace is “corny”—but in reality  its magic gathers the townspeople of Mitchell together in a most unique way. Mitchell, South Dakota is the farm country home of the original Corn Palace. The people of the town are enthusiastic, as well they might be, because the real show is the endless heart and pride the community contributes to their own one-of-a-kind attraction. AND it is FREE for everyone to see.

Traveling along the byway, it’s mighty easy as the billboards pass by, to judge the “Corn Palace” as just another one of those attractions that stretch the pocketbook without delivering the goods. The Corn Palace is NOT one of these. This is a down-home, farm-town art, great products, and eco-information center. An artistic transformation of dried corn-on-the-cob to extraordinarily beautiful graphic art. The theme changes annually: this year’s is “American Pride”—Uncle Sam Needs You, apple pie, family church, sporty Mustang and much more.

Superbly executed corn-cob murals

As CP director, Mark Schilling, related to me: “Eight years before the turn of the 20th century -1892- when Mitchell, South Dakota was a small, 12-year-old city of 3,000 inhabitants—the WORLD’S ONLY CORN PALACE—was established on the city’s Main Street.  During its over 100 years of existence, it has become known worldwide and now attracts more than a half a million visitors annually. The palace was conceived as a gathering place where city residents and their rural neighbors could enjoy a fall festival with extraordinary stage entertainment – a celebration to climax a crop-growing season and harvest.  This tradition continues today with the annual Corn Palace Festival this year, August 23rd – August 28th, 2011.“Some 500,000 tourists come from around the nation each year to see the uniquely designed corn murals which are changed to new designs each year. The city’s first Corn Palace was built as a way to prove to the world that South Dakota had a healthy agricultural climate,” he said.

“The Palace is redecorated each year with naturally colored corn and other grains and native grasses to make it ‘the agricultural showplace of the world.’ We currently use 13 different colors or shades of corn to decorate the Corn Palace: red, brown, black, blue, white, orange, calico, yellow and now we have green corn!  A different theme is chosen each year, and murals are designed to reflect that theme.  Ear by ear the corn is nailed to the Corn Palace to create a scene.”

The remarkable thing about this corn edifice is that generations of families here and in surrounding communities have started their life journeys working together contributing to the Corn Palace effort. Whether by imagining the art, decorating the center, growing the special corn, helping with construction, manning the booths, many learned residents contributing as docents to the education of visitors, or other innumerable tasks, the region celebrates teamwork while it spotlights the history and benefits of that amazingly versatile vegetable: CORN.

There is a plethora of corn history here-abouts in Mitchell, South Dakota. This combines with a wealth of good humor, and unique family fun for all. Try taste-tempting foods and snacks whose origins date back to 19th century county and Grange fairs.

Ahearn View Mt Rushmore

(And, of course, while you are in South Dakota don’t forget to take the time to visit the Presidents at Mount Rushmore and  other South Dakota wonders.
When asked, one South Dakota resident informed me:
“Mount Rushmore? About two looks that-a-way.”
“What’s a look,” I asked.
“Well, ya take a look down the road as far as ya can see, then drive to that spot and look again, then you’ll see it.”
More about SD in later posts.)

The Dakotans are a marvelous, down-to-earth people: carved by frigid winters and tanned by life on warm rolling plains; hot summer days; skin burning winds and sideways driven snow—forming a solid American-farming way of life on the plains Lewis and Clark admired so much.