Final Exit

Leaving for Anchorage. Woke up at eleven. Ate dry cereal and cranberries for breakfast, then miso soup, then cottage cheese and pear juice. TV dinner I bought is totally missing. Second such TV to disappear at the shop. Maybe it's a message from the spirit world not to eat such crap. Watched Alien. Yay. Tramps and Hobos signing out for the evening. Looking at hotels to split every which way. Got to pack up my stuff to go. Will miss this place. Power transformer snow and all.

Sugar Biscuit Friday

The simple pleasures in life, as I return to civilization, began with a type of pain in the neck I got from sleeping on a sofa last night. Sofa, not "thermarest" in tent. I woke up around three a.m. as I often have because my bladder is cold and full, except the issue wasn't that; it was that the dry heated air of the shop (a warehouse) made my lips and throat parched. Thus, I rummaged around for my water bottle and finished that off. This morning, I woke at eight a.m. when we have our traditional "stretch circle". It has been a time to come together and uh stretch in collective groggy silence and hazy, befuddled, sometimes caffeinated, conversation. But there was no stretch circle to miss. My back was sore. Really, I didn't appreciate the sofa. It seemed like a wonderful opportunity to escape the earth but I had moved around several times, from sofa to sofa, then laying cushions down on the concrete floor. When I woke up, I was half on one cushion. Cushions are no joke to try and stay on, they are narrow and unanchored furniture all by themselves. The same thing would happen at any couch surfing occasion, to my lament. Except this time I had been longing for the sweet cold hardness of the earth. What I thought wasn't that the floor was "more comfortable". I remember thinking, "this is more natural". "Natural", is that an unfamiliar, but distinct, preference to cling to at four in the morning?

Other happenings: J left the shop inquired whether I would stay here all weekend. We'll see. Another crew is here, so that leaves it open. And I'm perfectly comfortable here, so why not? Saturday I should try the hostel maybe. I donno. I'm thinking of calling one of my ex-youth crewmembers, they're all from Anchorage. And, I am wondering how I am going to swing a meeting with my distant cousin. Timing. So much timing.

Other thoughts: "crystal light, on the go" was super essential when we were drawing blood colored well water at Nancy Lake. But I had lost my personal stash way back and had to endure that heavy iron fortified thirst solution. After I found one last packet, I saved it since the water in Seward was sweet and delicious. Now, I regret flavoring my last water bottle of Seward stream water with the last packet.
Other note, the crappy tiny wide mouth water bottles worked but I will not be transporting them back to Minnesota with me, cause they're a waste of space.

Meanwhile, I am waiting for the Hobo and Tramps team to pick me up so I can do laundry. Tons of laundry. I'm ditching the jeans I brought up, full of holes and stained with dirt, they don't need to return with me. But I do need pants, so I've still got my decorated and gobbered up carharts on. What will I wear if my cousins want to invite me out? Man I look grizzly. Grandma would say, "Scary". Yes, Grandma, the beard does look scary. Maybe I'll cultivate a pointy beatnik beard. Perhaps I will swing over to a thrift store, eh?
I haven't had to worry about image in months and months. I recall the first time we retouched civilization after training in Skagway. We were checking out gear at REI in anchorage. All the beautiful outdoorsy people walking around, investigating quality and price on this and that. It was a pleasure, an honor and humor to be in a state of offense to other customers that day. Everything about us, our hair, clothes, skin, was dusty, dirty, smelly, rank, redolent and pungent. I remember looking at gear and my personal needs in an entirely new way. There are tons of gadgets and cool things out there, but I bought things I really needed, a rain jacket (sierra designs, better than nylon, light weight, semi-breathable, worked well for about two months, the wear and tear gradually made it more and more leaky for long days in rain), a LED headlamp (PETZEL, three aaa batteries, needed it four about another week, then useless for about two and a half months (land of the midnight sun), now couldn't live with out it. Changed batteries recently as it finally got dim.), and a camp towel (REI orange micro-fiber. It is ok. Feels smoother than other brands, it's thin, still dries faster than a terry cloth towel, but I'm not sure it dries out as fast as other brands.). That's it.

The Last Day of Work

I begin at an ending. Today, there was no sun or rain finally. I was able to air dry my tent a little as I was packing a little and taking time to read a little, and call my girlfriend a little. It was not going so quick but I finished everything, including procrastination by eleven a.m. when my chief J showed up. He is a bit of a character; it is always good to see him. Alas, he is my boss so when he asks questions like "what is going on?" He isn't addressing a vague, "wazz up!" It means he has observed something out of the ordinary or rather the expected and it is my job to identify and interpret the situation just as he has. It's training and indoctrination to make me think like him. Thankfully, I don't need to do that for a while because I'm done. But, to answer his question, there were two other crewmembers in camp. One was injured, as he knew and the other was sick and was taking a personal day, and I was getting ready to go with him. It's just one of those guilt peddling, guilty until proven innocent types of deals.
There after we walked the trail, I showed him the streambeds we had diverted and explained all the thinning of the forest that had been done. I think he might have appreciated just going for a walk since he is prone to either being stuck in the truck delivering people and goods around Alaska or being stuck in the office. By the way boss, you're looking great. The trail was an old military road. It's got a hard rock bed that has serious drainage issues as the mountain's runoff uses the tread there as a streambed from time to time. Anyway, I said good-bye to everyone again and then we headed home.
I ate a cheesy brat and a cup of Joe. Listened to MFB VOL. 6. Then did my exit paperwork and received my graduation hoodie. Huzzah.