Matanuska Glacier from Ken Roberts on Vimeo.
A light hearted look at the Matanuska Glacier. Only because there are around 100,000 or so ice fields in Alaska. So quite a few about. And, across the planet, accounting for about 10% of the world’s land mass. So now you know. And still no sign of Yogi….
Filming into the wild from Ken Roberts on Vimeo.
Continuing his journey east towards the Canadian border, Ken notices the scenery is very reminiscent of the Sean Penn film "Into the Wild"….
Trees and mountains from Ken Roberts on Vimeo.
On the Glenn Highway east from Palmer, Alaska, heading towards the Canadian border a week or so away, Ken discovers a perchance for trees and mountains is quite handy….
Chickaloon. Another small roadhouse. Open expanse of windswept gravel outside. Inside a bar to the left. A sign said "If assholes could fly this place would be an airport". One customer. A rotund man, white beard, Stetson and braces. I went to the right. Small cafe.
I grabbed a self-service coffee. Couple of dollars. The cinnamon rolls looked tempting, as did the Pie A la Mode, but pricey. A middle-aged couple, early fifties, were sat by the window. Italian perhaps. Tourists definitely.
A lady appeared from out the back. She’d passed me earlier she said. Had I waved, I asked hopefully? Yes. Could she see my posterior? Slightly taken aback, I agreed. Some padding, I admitted with a smile.
Grateful of a rest from the saddle, I was intrigued by the eclectic nature of the cafe. Welsh dresser in the corner, strip of replica posters, National Parks mostly, pasted around the walls where a picture rail might have been. Stainless steel bar stools in on corner. Comfy padded benches.
TV in the background. Seven or eight channels. Fox News. Political pundits debating events in Aimes, Iowa. Texan Governor Perry, it seemed, had thrown his hat – a Stetson presumably – into the ring for the Presidential race. Talk of Straw Polls, GOP, Tea Parties, Republicans and the Caucasus. I’d little concept of what they were debating.
The alternatives were less confusing. A few religious channels. Baptist services. A couple of solo preachers. Assertive rather than fire and brimstone. And then guns. Hunting skills. A programme dedicated to some serious weapons. Twin mounted water-cooled M16 carbines. Suppressed – silenced – belt fed grenade launcher. Either of which would work well on bears.
I’d felt a bit nervous returning to the surgery with some chocolates. By way of a small thank you for treating me so promptly, and with such care. Quietly mentioning I thought most things were fine in moderation. Joked I’d never met a woman who didn’t like them, and if I did there was always carob.
Despite a good night’s rest I didn’t entirely feel on full form. Little bit jaded, perhaps a bit light-headed. Combination, I thought, of various medications and anaesthetic, much of it on an empty stomach. But still magnitudes better than the previous day, for which I was immensely grateful.
Monte the dentist had called me earlier, making sure I was fine. I was keen, I explained, to drop in and thank everyone in person. When would suit best I’d asked. Lunchtime he’d suggested. Mental note to self. Don’t stay too long. Quick photograph. Doubtless the only chance they’d have to sit down all day. And I’d Betsy and Rocky to go and thank for all their kindness and help.
And who’s hockey Mom home might this be? Yep, Sarah Palin’s. Alaska’s Governor and apparent Presidential hopeful. Couldn’t pass up a chance to drop by. Tree on the left is probably some security chap. And the old tyre a cunningly disguised anti-terrorist measure.
By all accounts a pretty down-to-earth family. Often found down at the local supermarket. And, yes, the odd hockey match. No. Really. Forgive me if I seem a bit vague on the details but that is quite deliberate. Some strange people out there.
Sutton General Store from Ken Roberts on Vimeo.
Ken stops for a break at the Sutton General Store and Jonesville Cafe. Last stop before Chickaloon and then the wilderness.
Today’s special, she added, was biscuits and gravy for five bucks. What I asked, was biscuit? I’d half an idea it was some sort of cheap meat cut. But no. She showed me one. Looked like a bread roll. An idea. Could she do me a bacon and egg roll? Her turn to look quizzical. A bun I explained. Would a hamburger bun be ok? Yes. I smiled. Cheese? She quickly recited three, perhaps four choices. I could only remember the last one. Swiss. Thought she’d said something American. I plumped for that one, mostly out of curiosity.
I’d pulled off the highway at the Sutton General Store and Jonesville Cafe. First stop along the Glenn Highway east of Palmer. Maybe fifteen miles under my belt but already lunchtime. Leisurely start. Seventy five miles to cover but daylight until gone ten pm. Steady riding. Always. Tortoise and hare. Especially when you’ve been off the road, albeit even for a short while. It never gets easier. Both physically and emotionally. Parting with new found friends, no matter how much you know you must. That it’s the right thing to do.
Small cafe. I was the only customer, although the kitchen seemed busy. Couple of women toiling away in the back. Take outs I thought. The shelves of the adjacent store seemed almost as empty. I’d wondered if this was because summer was drawing to a close, but there was still a good few weeks to go. And the place struck me as being open all year. One of the few along this stretch of the Glenn Highway.
Just after three in the afternoon. Knock on the door. Betsy and Rocky. Checking up on me. Concerned they’d not seen me all day. I admitted I’d not slept, barely even dozed. Painkillers not making a dent, my face swollen with an ever present throbbing pulse. Waiting for the powerful antibiotics to reduce the swelling and permit the rogue tooth to be extracted.
They were polite but firm. I shouldn’t be accepting this degree of suffering. Betsy would run me back down to the nearby surgery. See if they could prescribe something stronger for the pain. I didn’t argue. For one thing, I knew they had my best interests at heart. They were right. So absorbed by the pain, I simply wasn’t thinking straight. I didn’t argue.
Less than fifteen minutes later I was in the chair. Feeling elated as the local anaesthetic quickly took hold. Positively savouring the absence of pain. Monte the dentist had been very clear. Such was the extent of the infection waiting any longer for the swelling to reduce wouldn’t make a jot of difference. Better to extract the tooth straightaway. I nodded in firm agreement. Just as I knew Betsy and Rocky would take care of me, I’d absolute trust in Monte from the moment I met him.
It took a while to extract the problem child. Last little bit of root proving particularly tricky. But I never felt – or saw – a thing. Eyes firmly closed. Vaguely aware of others coming and going. Almost intoxicated by the absence of suffering. A joyous feeling.
[The author is indebted to Betsy and husband Andy, Rocky, together with Monte the dentist and his team – Jennie, Rachel and Christy for all their help]
