Jumping Off a Cliff - January 28, 2008

Jumping off a cliff. . .
Current mood:  drained

This afternoon I jumped off a cliff.  Well, more like slid down the side.  Kind of.  Maybe I should explain.

After school today, Amanda (one of my students) asked me if I wanted to go sliding.  It had been snowing hard for two days straight, and there was a good two feet of fresh snow on the ground.  I was sinking in up past my knees just trying to get to school this morning.  I have never been in snow that deep.  Sliding is their term for sledding.  She said she wanted me to go sliding down the "banks."  The "banks" are the cliffs right outside teacher housing.  The kids slide down the cliff on their rear ends and then climb back up.  I told her that I would watch her do it, but there was no way I was doing it myself.  When we got to my door, she gave me a sad puppy dog look and asked me to at least put on my snowpants to watch her.  I was doomed from that point on.  She kept telling me how fun it was and how other teachers had done it and so on and so forth.  How could I resist?

We got to the edge of the cliff and I told her that if she went down first and climbed back up, then I might try it.  I wanted reassurance that I wasn't going to break my neck or be stranded at the bottom of the cliff.  As I told her, I've never slid down a hill on my rear end, let alone the edge of a cliff.  She slid down and successfully climbed back up.  About that time, 3 of the older boys (4th and 5th graders) showed up and slid down ahead of me.  I bit the bullet and slid.  Down the side of a cliff covered in a sheet of ice.  All that sliding had uncovered the ice that was there before all the recent snow. 

Now all that remained was to climb back up.  The hard part.  Apparently my extra body weight made a world of difference in how easy it was to climb.  I couldn't get a foothold and kept sliding back down, mainly because of the recently exposed ice.  I tried several different routes up the cliff and couldn't do it.  By that time, the older boys had been up and down the cliff several times, and I was none too happy with Amanda.  Eventually I did make it up, obviously, but it was with the serious help of those 4th and 5th grade boys.  When I had recovered my breath, one of the boys said, "Can we have hot chocolate?  I joke."  To which I replied, "Yeah, sure.  Why not?"  So, the three boys and Amanda came over for hot chocolate.  After all, they did help me back up - I don't know how I would have done it without them.  I had to repay them somehow and since they were content with hot chocolate and marshmallows. . . .

Moral of the story:  When an 8-year-old asks you to go sliding down a cliff, just say no.  (Seems simplistic, but I've always been a slow learner!)

Our Field Trip - December 6, 2007

Our Field Trip
Current mood:  relieved

The long-awaited day finally arrived.  Ida and I have been planning this field trip since before Thanksgiving.  Originally, it was just going to be my class going to find a Christmas tree for our classroom, but I told Ida (2nd-3rd grade teacher)about it and she said she wanted to bring her class.  Ever since I told my kids about it on Monday, it's all they've talked about.  "When are we going to get our tree?"  "We're going to get a tree?"  "We get our tree today, right?"  Both Ida and I stressed that they all needed to bring their warm clothes, because it's been so cold lately.  Even yesterday, when it started snowing, it didn't warm up very much.  The wind blew 30 mph all last night, and I was afraid it was going to blow all day today.  (It didn't, praise God for that!  It's blowing really hard again now!)  As they came in this morning, I made sure they had snow pants, coats, boots, hats, gloves, everything.  I didn't want anyone getting cold. 

So, when it was about time to leave, we all got our cold weather gear on and set out.  It was so cool watching the kids run.  They were so excited!  I have some of Ida's kids for different subjects during the day, and I knew they were just as excited as my little kids.  They were rolling in the snowbanks and throwing snow at each other as they walked.  Doris (my classroom aide) was leading the way, I was somewhere in the middle, and Ida and Tracy (Ida's classroom aide) were bringing up the rear.  Somewhere along the way, we acquired 3 or 4 pre-school age little ones who were out playing and decided they wanted to join us.  I'm not entirely sure where we went, but it was somewhere out past the airport.  Most of the kids were fine tramping through the woods, but I could tell a couple of them were getting tired after about 20 minutes of slogging through snowy trails.  That's why I was relieved when Doris and about half my class announced they'd found a great tree.  The rest of us agreed, and Doris cut it down.  Ida decided to take her class a little farther to find their tree, so we parted ways.  About this time, my kids started to peel off layers of clothing.  See, by some freak accident of nature, today was about 35 degrees.  We were all sweating by the time we got back to the school. 

Doris set the tree up and I started to make cups of hot chocolate (Ida and I had really been planning this).  Ida's class got back right at the end of the school day, but after my class all had their drinks, and we'd only had 2 major spills.  Well, then Nick's (4th and 5th grade) class came in.  They had gone for a Christmas tree, too, but had gone someplace else separately from the "little kids."  They heard about the hot chocolate and came in asking if they could have some.  I told them they could only if they sat down and stopped yelling.  At that point, I had about 30 kids under the age of 12 in my room.  It was a little crazy there for awhile, because I could only make hot chocolate so fast.  At one point, Ida had them singing "Silent Night" and "We Wish You A Merry Christmas."  I had kids in and out of my room for a good hour after school got out.  It was crazy, but in a good way.  I love getting my kids out of the classroom and doing something active, even if it has no academic value.  A majority of my class (and Ida's class, too) consists of boys and boys just need to run, throw themselves down snowy hills, and dive into snowbanks once in a while. 

Traveling in the Frozen North - October 25, 2007

Traveling in the Frozen North
Current mood:  relieved

It had to be this week.  Of all the weeks it could be winter weather-ish, it had to be this one.  All the staff from the school district flew to Unalakleet, where the district office is located, for a week-long in-service.  We were told that the first plane from Elim was leaving at noon on Monday, the second at 12:30, and the district plane was coming for the last 4 staff members at 2.  Yes, our district has it's own plane and pilot - how cool is that?!  Around 10, Dianna wandered into my classroom and said, "Did you hear that your flight is on hold?  Nobody's flying this morning."  We had ice-fog forming in the Sound and Nome was experiencing a snowstorm that was heading our direction.  So noon came and went with no flight, but good news that the planes were flying and would be taking off shortly.  At 1 came the announcement that the plane was 18 minutes out.  We loaded the school truck and got all our stuff and people up to the airport (it took 2 trips).  We're standing there watching the ice-fog roll inland off the water and wondering where the plane is.  We don't see it, we don't hear it, nothing.  Abel got on the radio in the truck and called Marlin, the airline agent, to ask how far out our flight was.  Marlin told us that ice was building on the plane wings and the pilot had turned back.  So, we re-loaded the truck and went back to the school.  It was like a rehearsal for the real thing.  So, then came the news that the district plane was on its way and would be there at 2, as scheduled.  Doug, the district pilot, will fly when no one else will.  He is so comfortable with his plane and knows what he can and can't do - he frequently is out on district business in snowstorms, high winds, things other pilots wouldn't dare fly in.  He's amazing.  Doug landed and took 5 staff members with him.  The rest of us were left to play the waiting game.  Dianna was on the phone with the travel person from the district office and the airline agent the rest of the afternoon.  At 3:30, she told me to go wait at home.  So then we were all sitting at home wondering when we were going to leave.  The ice-fog was so thick that it was like white-out conditions in the village.  Around 5:30, Dianna came next door and said to get comfortable and make dinner, because we most likely weren't going to get out until the next morning.  6:00 - Dianna yells into the hall, "12 minutes"  The general response was, "You've got to be kidding me."  One of Hageland's pilots was on his way and was 12 minutes out from Elim.  As we walked out the door, we realized it was snowing hard.  This time we actually got out, and the flight wasn't too bad.  We were only 7 hours late.  It's a good thing nothing big is planned for the first day - we missed the welcome and the keynote address, but none of us were super-bummed about that. 

The rest of the conference was great - of the 4 I've experienced, this one was the best.  The sessions I attended were incredible.  District technology was explained in layman's terms and we had time to play around with it and get comfortable with it.  I got ideas for learning games to make for my classroom -  and then had 5 hours to make them.  I have games ready for use on Monday.  I think it was the most productive day I've had in awhile - and coloring, cutting, and gluing is surprisingly relaxing.  The guinea pigs in the classroom we were sleeping in were a problem - my allergies were so bad I was having trouble breathing by Tuesday morning.  (It's all held in the Unalakleet school - we sleep in the classrooms, attend sessions in those same classrooms, eat in the cafeteria, etc.)

Our flight back was pretty interesting, as well.  We weren't scheduled to leave until 4:30, which meant we were some of the last people there.  At 4, we loaded up and headed for the airport, unloaded when we got there, and then wondered why we were there so early - it wasn't anywhere near 4:30.  The wind was brutally cold and blowing hard.  We sat inside the Hageland Aviation building with about 30 other people for almost an hour before our flight finally took off.  Half of us were on one plane and half on another, with 2 people coming in later on the district plane.  Our plane left first.  It was pretty bumpy taking off, but once the pilot got up in the clouds, it was really pretty smooth.  What was bad was the landing.  We started descending and when we get below the clouds, we were as low as I've ever flown.  The water was right there below us.  No one could really tell where we were because we couldn't see very far in any direction.  Then we saw the runway and watched it out the window as the pilot flew right by it.  He flew out aways and then turned the plane so that we were landing with or against the wind (whichever one is better - I don't know).  He cranked it around hard.  At one point, the plane wings were perpendicular to the water.  We were bouncing all over the place in the wind and not very far above the water.  I was light-headed and not sure we were going to make it down in one piece.  I trusted the pilot; he obviously wouldn't try to land in those conditions unless he was absolutely certain he knew what he was doing, but it made me a little nervous.  We made it down safely (obviously) and rode in the truck back to teacher housing in the heavily falling snow.  I'm not sure the other plane made it back.  For starters, they were in a single prop plane, meaning they had to stay within coasting distance of land (in case the engine failed) - that doubles the flight time.  We were in a double prop plane so we could do it in a straight shot across the Sound.  The pilot they had has had her license less than a year - she wouldn't try to land in those conditions - she most likely turned around and headed back to Unalakleet.  I haven't heard any planes since we got here.  I would bet they come in late tonight on the district plane after Doug finishes taking everyone else to their sites.  That would be my guess.  I'm really just glad to be home, have both feet firmly on the ground, and sleep in my own bed tonight (sleeping on the floor in a classroom leaves much to be desired). 

It was an experience - September 3, 2007

It was an experience 

 

That's right - I'm not even calling this one an adventure.  It was an experience.  Last week, Dianna (one of the teachers) asked if Katie and I wanted to join her, Nick, and Anna on the "traditional," 2nd annual, Labor Day hike to the hot springs.  She said it was 10-11 miles, over 3 mountains, and across a creek.  Well, neither Katie nor I had ever been backpacking before, but it didn't seem too bad, right?  As it turns out, it was closer to 12 miles, over 3 ginormous mountains, and across 2 rivers, with a 20 pound backpack.  We left Friday after school, and were racing the sun the entire way.  Beautiful scenery, and I enjoyed it until I saw the sun start to set.  I didn't want to get stuck out in the dark.  I had a flashlight, but it gets really dark.  By the time I got to the top of the last little hill, and could see the river, I was so ready to the done. I could see two trails that headed in that general direction, and I think I ended up on the longer, harder one.  I was sliding down a hill, walking along a creek bed at one point - pretty much bush-whacking my way across the tundra.  It took me about 6 hours, and I was at least a half an hour behind the two who were leading, and I wasn't the last one, either.  I crossed the last river in shorts and my "alligator" rubber boots.  It was pretty deep in places, and fast-moving.  The hot springs was incredible.  It wasn't super-hot, but it definitely felt good after 12 miles of  hiking.  There's a little survival cabin that had bunks and a little wood stove.  The plywood planks didn't lend themselves to a good night's sleep, but it was better than the ground.  Between the five of us, we polished off 3 pounds of dried apricots, 4 pounds of trail mix, and numerous granola bars on Saturday.  It was pretty incredible. 

The hike back on Sunday was pure torture.  I made it almost up the first mountain before I ran out of energy.  After crossing the second river, I stopped and duct-taped my heels and toes for extra protection from blisters.  It didn't do any good.  Anna and I walked most of the way back together.  It was much more pleasant to have someone to talk to, rather than myself and the bushes.  About the time we reached the halfway point, it started to rain.  Hard.  So, there we are, walking up a mountain, above the tree line (no shelter at all), in a torrential downpour.  My jeans were already rolled up to the knees (they got wet crossing the second river and I didn't feel like rolling them back down), my rain coat was doing me absolutely no good, and I was glad my camera (I've had it less than a week) was in my pocket and not still strapped to the outside of my backpack (it has not been a good year for cameras and water).  It was still torrentially downpouring when we started down the other side, but had lessened to a drizzle by the time we got to the bottom and started up the last mountain.  The last couple of miles seemed to last forever.  I gave up trying to walk around the mud puddles.  My shoes were already sopping wet; a little bit more mud and water wasn't going to hurt them at all.  Anna actually took her shoes off and walked through the puddles barefoot.  I have never been so glad to see home, although peeling duct-tape off my bloody heels and toes was no fun.  I'm sitting here chuckling to myself about it now, but it really didn't seem funny at the time.  God got us all back safe and free from serious injury, though, which is definitely something to be thankful for. 

A Fishing Adventure - August 17, 2007

A Fishing Adventure

John (one of the teachers up here) just bought a new 4-wheeler and he's pretty excited about it. He and Nick (another teacher) decided that they wanted to go fishing after church last Sunday. They invited Katie (another teacher) and I to go with them. Well, we thought that sounded like a good idea, so we borrowed poles and joined them. I actually caught my first fish ever. . . . but we have no proof. See, the boys had talked to someone who told them about some tables to clean fish on and a place to cross the creek. We loaded our fish into a big tub and went in search of the tables. We found the tables, but John must have misunderstood where to cross the creek. We were at the mouth of the creek, where it meets the Norton Sound. As we started across, I felt the 4-wheeler shift and thought, "Oh no," and then we all went in the water. So, there we are, chest-deep in the Norton Sound, trying to keep this 4-wheeler from tipping over, because it's half-balanced on a sandbar. My camera? In my pocket. Nick's camera? In his pocket? Our fish? Floating away.

Luckily for us, there were a couple of guys fishing just up the creek who saw what happened, and came to help us out. They pulled the 4-wheeler out of the water and then towed us back to the village because John couldn't get his machine to work.

My camera doesn't work anymore; neither does Nick's. The 4-wheeler is fine. John, Katie, and I took it out berry-picking last night. The fish? Well, the same guys who helped us out, found the fish washed up about a mile down the shore and returned it to John. We're pretty lucky. No one got hurt, the 4-wheeler still runs, we got our fish back, etc. So many more things could have gone so very wrong. It was quite the adventure. . . . and we can laugh about it now!  That's why I love living in Alaska!

To Lucky Peak and Back

Last week, my sister and I rode our bikes along the Greenbelt to Lucky Peak Reservoir and back.  That's a 36 mile round trip.  We've been planning/dreaming about this since last summer.  It wasn't as ridiculous as I thought it would be.

Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed in the parking lot before we started.

The side of Lucky Peak Dam says, "Keep your forests green."  The reservoir is on the other side.  This is where the Greenbelt pretty much ends.

The Greenbelt pretty much ends at Sandy Point, which is a whale-shaped swimming area at the base of the dam.  There is a fountain that serves as the whale's eye.

This is Vicki's "angry face" about having to get back on her very uncomfortable bike seat for the ride back.

The giraffes were out at the zoo on the ride back. :-)

Anchorage

I recently spend a few days in Anchorage with my parents on the way through to the lower-48 for the summer.  Instead of a lot of my boring words, I'll let the pictures do most of the talking.

This is in Earthquake Park.  Before March 1964, the ground went straight across and was filled with houses.  The ground in that whole area turned into liquid when the earth started shaking.  Now, it drops off, slopes down into mud flats, and is heavily wooded. 

Eisenhower Statehood Memorial and Captain Cook Memorial

 In true tourist fashion, we stopped to take pictures of the moose that Mom spotted along the highway.

Denali.  Fortunately, there were no clouds obscuring the view that day.  Apparently, the mountain is so tall that it creates its own weather systems, hence the reason it is enveloped in clouds most of the time.  Trivia: When measured from sea level to the summit, Mt. Everest is the tallest mountain on earth.  When measured from the base of the mountain to the summit, Denali is actually taller.

4 guys, aided by copious amounts of alcohol and very little common sense, decided to summit Denali.  Amazingly enough, they made it to the top and back.  Alive.

Everything is Alaska is bigger.  And the days last so much longer.  This is 10:00 at night. 

Flattop Mountain.  Yeah, I climbed it.

The last 100 feet or so up was climbing rocks.  It was awesome.  And so much easier to go up than to go down.

Byron Glacier.  We had to hike through sink-y snow to get there.  It was an adventure trying to find places to step where we wouldn't sink in up past our knees.

Jawbones of a blue whale on display at the Alaska Native Heritage Center.

Gray whale at the Alaska Native Heritage Center.

That's just a little bit of what we saw while we were there.  My dad took over 500 pictures over the course of 10 days in Elim, Nome, and Anchorage.