"coppertone tan"

Speaking of tan lines....this one was bad!! Seriously, it's just about the most painful memory I have! Honestly, these were like 3rd (or 10th!) degree burns, I swear. Not my face (believe it or not, that color was normal for the summer), just my legs. I couldn't bend my legs because the backs of my knees were so swollen. It took four days to be comfortable and even now nine months later, I STILL HAVE A TAN LINE FROM IT. Yes, a faint tan line remains from a burn that happened in just a few hours. Bad choice in wardrobe by me.

Dotty

Dotty, Jet and I skijoring on my last night of the summer!


On my kennel blog, I've been trying to write a post about everyone. For memories sake, I might start that here.
Have you heard about Dotty?
I would buy her in a heartbeat. This little dog slept not only in my tent, but in my sleeping bag with me. She is the best. I miss her terribly. She's Jeff's 4 year old main (ish) leader, but I hoped all summer long that she was old and retired because I so badly wanted her for my own. I told Jeff that if she ever becomes available through any circumstance, like losing a leg, being swept away in a flood, anything at all, I'd take her without a second thought.

(Out of MontanaXMaybe.Littermate to Denali, Kona, Wolfy)

Tramp Tans

With Iditarod and all, I've been thinking about Alaska so much lately! I'm not going back this summer, but I'll try for next year. Had I been able to miss some school during fall semester, my job would have been waiting....but I decided to be an absolute (Vodka!) loser and not miss any class. Sooooooooo this summer I'll be home (well, in my home state at least), falling back on the watery crutch of those lifeguarding skills I learned at 15. I'll be at a boy scout summer camp demanding buddy checks instead of on the orientation box explaining what the dogs wear on their feet.




I'm sad about not going North this summer, but I've got some dog events planned to keep me occupied, and plus, my tan lines will be a little better this way.
Awkward tan lines are the story of a Heli-Musher's life. We compare them like gang members discussing scars from a knife fight. The sun finds ALL skin. No skin is safe. Thus, the tramp tan was born. (NOTE:these pics don't actually show a tramp tan)



I always get some pretty awesome strap lines during the summers I twirl my whistle and denounce Marco-Polo, but nothing can compare to the sliver of brown us girls all had in common in the great white north. The perfectly tan strip on our lower backs came from our trusty t-shirts shimmying up our backs when we bent over. No, it's not what you think. Bending for a few seconds multiple times per day really added up! Again, mind out of the gutter. While harnessing, unharnessing, booty-ing, un booty-ing, checking feet, cleaning up equipment and the like, that little, whorish landing strip was bathed in sunlight.




The absolute best time to see a fresh tramp tan was down in Juneau....they stick out so much better with the green backdrop.
Anyway, though this summer I plan to became an irresistible shade of bronze, it just wont quite be the same without the tan sliver adorning my lower back. I miss my tramp tan and my tramp tan misses me! The story about the "tan" lines (more like SCORCH lines) behind my knees is for a different day.

Even though these pics don't show any true Tramp Tans, I chose them because they do represent the weather on the majority of the days. Yes! T-shirts and shorts. Yes! One night we played in the lake and acted like it was a beach party. Yes! It was WARM. And, yes! I always wear the same shirt. Every day. (hahahaha these were all taken the same afternoon)

Field Trip

Ahhh I'm just in an Alaska mood. I picked a random picture to write about. The infamous "suspender pic." This was my last full day on the ice. We had been weathered in for three days I think it was. No tours. Nothing. Just a lot of card games, cookies and naps. It'd be a lie to say I didn't enjoy it a little, but I also remember being very anxious because my contract date was approaching. But of course, we still managed to have fun. After an entire summer of begging, well, not an entire summer- we only started begging after we heard that the OTHER rotations had been allowed to go, we went on a field trip. Oh man, it felt like we were breaking all of the rules. We'd been told since day one that going NEAR the mountains would invite avalanches. On this particular day, we were allowed ON them. It was pouring rain and freezing cold. Nobody cared. We were all happy to get out of camp, and in my case stop trying to dig a new modesty pit, and stretch our legs. We threw rocks off the top and had a good-bye pow-wow. It's when I start thinking about Alaska that I so badly want to go back to Alaska. I suppose it's possible and I suppose I'm considering it......

Change is Good (for use at vending machines)

Let me put it this way: being home is great, but Alaska will always be with me. I haven't made any concrete decisions regarding next summer, but I'll be sure to up date accordingly. With that being said, I'll try to keep this page relatively current, for I'm sure I'll think of Alaska stories at random, but I'm going to start another blog, aimed primarily (if not solely) on my kennel and dog happenings. I still have a few more ideas for THIS page, but I'm itching to start writing about the home bodies. Once it's up and pretty (don't expect too much! It'll probably look just like this...), I'll link to it. If you think Alaska sounded crazy, just wait until you see what happens when you mush in the Mitten. There was this one time with some crazy French Canadians....but we'll save that for later.

"I Can See Tourists From My House."

The metropolis of Juneau is simply filled with let's call them "odd" people. Most of these people are not only weird, but they seem exceptionally lacking in the "ability to hold a normal conversation" department. One such happening occurred recently.
A friend, Sally, and I were headed downtown. Sally had tendinitis in her ankle. Because of this, she was wearing a tennis shoe on her good foot, but a flip flop on her hurt foot. I know, I know...maybe we're the weird ones.
We took a shortcut (because we're the cool type of people who know shortcuts!) that lead us past the Governor's Mansion. In Lou of recent events (*cough, cough: Sarah Palin's resignation), and not so recent events (*cough, cough....take a minute and think about the election!), I wanted a picture in front of the Mansion with my thumbs down. It would have been a giant step....for both me AND mankind, seeing as how I’ve always displayed a thumbs up in any picture I’ve ever taken. Annnnnyway, I struck a pose in the front lawn, looking dutifully forlorn, as a woman began to approach us. I should use this space to label Sally as the distract-able type. She was on the phone AND manning the camera, so needless to say, she was already in over her head. This woman kept coming. She started to ask Sally if we've ever been allowed IN the mansion. She was very serious, telling us she was miffed because the governor had invited her for tea, but she didn't know how to enter. She wanted to know if there was another door and if we had ever been through it. My friend, who, once again, was way out of her league distraction-wise, smiled and nodded "yes." (You see, she was thinking of her tour of the CAPITAL BUILDING, failing to realize we were in front of the Governor's Masion.)I simply shrugged and smiled. The woman kept asking us HOW we got a tour of the place and where she could get in. Sally stopped trying to take the picture of me and turned to The Woman, not yet understanding that she and The Woman, were speaking of two different buildings. "Oh, we...it was a weird thing, just wondered in." The Woman became intrigued.
"Hmm so I am I to believe you guys got a 'special' tour of some type?" Sally was just then ending her phone conversation and, being a little less distracted, wanted to help The Woman understand (though she failed miserably).
"Yeah, kind of special." She responded. Sally then paused, unsure of what exactly The Woman was looking for, and offered an odd explanation. "We're mushing guides...on the glacier." The Woman was now baffled....and still annoyed. She zeroed in on our tan lines.
"Oh, so that's why you've been in the sun for so long?" I laughed, slowing backing Sally and I away from the odd stranger. "Haha Yep, the weather has been great."
Sally jumped in, too. "Yeah, the weather this summer is 100 times better than last year. I'm sure it's helping you to enjoy your cruise." Sally, always the nice girl, offered a stunning smile, which usually works with tourists. The Woman had an immediate pessimistic response.
"You mean you came back two years in a row? And the weather is better? That's odd because everything is getting worse in the rest of the world." Sally and I exchanged sideways glances. What in the world had we gotten ourselves into? This woman was a damn emo grandmother. We started to walk away. Emo Grandma noticed Sally's odd footwear. "Ah what's that?" Sally glanced down and we laughed. Emo Grandma, somehow, immediately assumed the worst. "So it looks like you hurt your foot?" Sally smiled and shrugged.
"Yeah, a little I guess. Haha but this seems to help." For any remotely normal person who is even remotely capable of holding a remotely normal conversation, Sally's response would have been seen as a joke and the odd encounter would have ended. What was Emo Grandma's retort? She cringed and shrugged. Sally and I were beyond confused.
Emo Grandma then exhaled and sputtered, "Well, at least you can still walk." I busted into laughter and grabbed Sally's arm.
"Ha! Yes. Thank you." As I rolled my eyes, I wondered if I my confused thoughts betrayed my face...and my only thought was,‘What the hell?!’ Sally was still just as baffled. She simply looked at me and then to Emo Grandma, utterly confused and taken aback.
She managed, "Uhhhh..." And then Emo Grandma seemed to be done with the conversation—if one could call it that. Once again, a typical on the street goodbye would be, "Alright, well hey it was great meeting you," or something of the type.
Emo Granny merely smiled, waved and said, “Well, have a great night, girls. Maybe I’ll come for tea another time.”
Sally and I all but tripped over each other to get the hell away from Sarah Palin’s House of Crack Heads. I mean, seriously? What the hell kind of person can say that many crazy things in the span of a five minute conversation? Does…does that even happen? What?



(And this highlight goes out to the Mozilla Firefox Gods. Yes, they are GODS. Even I am comfortable deeming them Gods. During the writing of this, something went haywire. My computer restarted itself and installed its own updates [pushy bastard!] and much panic ensued. However, thanks to Firefox, when the computer turned back on, I was calmly asked if I would like to “restart previous Firefox session” because it “ended abruptly.” The page re-opened itself, fixed me coffee, and began vacuuming he apartment. All words were accounted for. Amen, amen, AMEN. )

The Hump Party

I'll be home for Christmas. Alright, maybe that was irrelevant, seeing as how I was never scheduled to be away for Christmas. Anyway, I'll be home in less than a month. The summer is slipping by. To acknowledge the passage of time and to congratulate ourselves for making it this far through the season, the company threw an "Over the Hump" Party. You see, we're celebrating the downhill side of our season. We're more than halfway, hence "OVER the Hump." Want to hear a funny? You know, one of those crazy Heli-Mush mistakes? THIS we've learned: be sure to always use the FULL name in reference to the party. The people at Wal-Mart are not sure what to think when you boast that your drinks, chips, etc are for a "Hump Party." When phrased in that way, no one really shared our excitement....
The night itself was much fun. We went to the beach and cooked steak, potatoes, and corn on the grill. Management cooked AND paid for everything; it was the least I could do to make an appearance. The night was full of hacky sack, swinging, bonfires, and poem recitation. There was also a small child frolicking about wearing a bat suit. No, not a Batman suit, an actual BAT suit. Brown, furry and with "translucent" armpit/side-of-body skin. Honestly? It was adorable.
We snapped a managerial photo...in which our manager tried to discretely place bags of charcole, in hopes of a prodeal (aka discount). The next picture was of the staff; I gathered all the bottles of Alaskan Amber I could find. Hey, it's expensive and greatly appreciated in the outdoor community.
During the hacky sack festivities, a fucking weirdo on a trick bike started talking to us. His name? Travis Shanker. And don't worry, I'm not shitting you. C'mon, even I'm not creative enough to dream up a name so humiliating. He taught us the fine art of hacky sack, trick bike riding, and dealing with an energy drink company as a sponsor. What an enlightening young man. Oh wait...he simply became even more of a fucking wierdo after sharing said information. I'm sure you're dying to know the biggest lie he told us all night, eh? I'll simply quote him and you can judge his "type" for yourself. Ready? "Oh yeah? Well uhh yeah, I mean, my buddy knocked up Sarah Palin's daughter. Know who that is, don't ya?" I digress.
Even later yet (after Shanker stopped thrilling us with his stories), we made a fire and got a little crazy. Okay, fine...by "crazy," I mean that we started reciting poetry. Steven went first with his creepy Hamlet blah, blah. And then I followed with the Cremation of Sam McGee, naturally.
In the car on the way home, we listened to Cake. Add them to the list of Acceptable Glacier Music. I will allow it.
By the time the night was over, we were all happy mushers, completely humped out. (Awkward end note? It'll do.)