I never knew I had a bucket list until I saw the movie. Not that I'm terminally ill. I'm not. And, not that I have a list of places I must go before I do kick the bucket forsaking everything else. Well, I do have a list of sorts. But, in the days after watching the movie, I slowly realized that my life has been my bucket list. I don't expect the reaper to be knocking at my door soon, but, if he dropped by a few days before the day for a chat about my life, I think I'd tell him that I've done most of the things I wanted to do. Not that I popped out of my mom's womb trailing this long list of things to do and places to go. It took me at least eight or ten years to begin the list. And, most importantly, not that I'm done with the list. I hope I'll keep crossing things off of it until the day the reaper finally says, "OK, that's it. Put down your list." But, until that day, here are some of the things off my bucket list ....... in no particular order .......

Trek the Sahara

I can't tell you what initiated my desire to trek the Sahara and sleep beneath a sky filled with stars from horizon to horizon without a light in sight. I do know it was on my list for a long time before I did it. Something piqued my interest when I was very young. Maybe it was watching French Foreign Legionnaire Buster Crabbe dash gallantly from a mud walled oasis to challenge a nefarious ne'er-do-well. I'm not sure, but the desire to walk or ride alongside a nomad into the greatest desert on the globe just grew stronger as my life progressed. And, one day I found myself boarding a plane in Anchorage bound for Ouarzazate, Morocco, a former French Foreign Legion outpost on the edge of the Sahara.

Just getting to Ouarzazate was an adventure in itself. The journey there definitely didn't happen as planned. Instead of landing at that far away destination in a plane, we found ourselves arriving there late at night after driving over the Atlas Mountains from Marrakech due a cancelled Royal Air Maroc flight that stranded us in Casablanca. That's a fun and colorful story in itself, but I need to get back to the Sahara story.

Despite the quick change in travel plans, we did get to Ouarzazate in time to meet our guide, who drove us to to Mhamid, the last village on the edge of the desert, where our Sahara odyssey began.
Our hosts served us a scrumptious lunch before piling us into a well-used Land Rover for an afternoon drive to the Sacred Oasis of Oum Laalag, where we spent the night and changed our method of transport from vehicle to camel. That night we spent our first night under the Sahara stars.

As the setting sun disappeared below the western horizon, the oven hot desert temperatures immediately began to abate. A light breeze blew up and helped cool the evening. Again, our hosts spread a small feast out for us consisting of tagine, freshly baked bread, the ever present sweet mint tea and other tasty morsels. After dinner, our guides brought armloads of rugs and blankets out into the center of the oasis and prepared sleeping pallets for us. After our long adventurous day, they felt as comfortable as our bed at home. No sooner had I laid my head upon my pillow than I fell into a deep sleep. Some hours later, about midnight I think, I awoke. I was on my back. As I slowly became aware of my surroundings, I couldn't believe what I was seeing. There was no ambient light to dim the sight above me. The sky was alive. Millions of stars brightly shined against the velvety black celestial backdrop. From horizon to horizon, the heavens poured rivers of twinkling while lights across the black sky canvas. I lay there for some time just taking in the spectacle. I was awestruck. This was what I had come for, or at least a big part of what I had come for, and I was not disappointed. As I lay beneath my warm blanket, I felt as if a vortex was pulling me up into the stars, planets, constellations and solar systems. The Milky Way, a solid white starlit skyway, slashed its way across the heavens. I didn't want to close my eyes to return to my slumber. Yet I felt so safe, so warm, so relaxed and so much a part of everything around me that I slowly slipped back into sleep. The next time I opened my eyes morning was approaching. The starry carpet still stretched across the awakening sky, but daylight was forcing its retreat.

After we awoke and enjoyed a tasty morning meal, it was time to begin the camel trek. The cameleers brought the camels to the entrance of the oasis, saddled them and packed our gear into the Saharan version of panniers. After a short primer on camel etiquette and riding, we mounted our beasts and then held on while they rocked to their feet. Camel riding must be an acquired taste, and I don't think I mastered it very well. Our saddles sat almost on the animal's rumps. Their gait was difficult to get used to, and the saddles were unforgiving despite the blankets piled atop them. After about an hour's ride, we came to a small oasis and stopped for some water. Following the short break, I opted to walk along with the cameleers rather than remount. We traveled until about 11:30 when I noticed one of the Nomads scanning the horizon looking for something.

"Que cherchez-vous," I asked. He was looking for a tree. Over the next hour I learned that we were looking for a large tree under which to spend the next several hours, the hottest part of the day. It would be too hot for us to be out in the desert in the midday sun. The tree appeared, the cameleers took the gear off the camels, hobbled them, and left them to find their own place to rest. Again, our hosts prepared us a traditional lunch, tagine, le pain de sable (bread baked in the sand) and hot mint tea. It seemed a bit odd that were were eating a hot meal in the intense heat, but they explained to us that our bodies actually reacted well to it. We didn't argue. The meal was terrific. After lunch, we all stretched out on rugs in the shade of the big tree and napped.

About 3:00, the Nomads stirred. They said we would be getting going again. It was a few hours trek to our overnight bivouac, the famed Chgaga Dunes. The afternoon walk in the desert was actually pleasant. Our shashes kept the direct sun off of us, but were not burdensome. It was very hot and we perspired continuously, but our hosts had plenty of water along for the trek and they urged us to drink it frequently. As the sun began to sink toward the western horizon, we arrived at our destination for the day.

The Chgaga Dunes were spectacular in the late afternoon light. We took off our shoes, grabbed our cameras and took off exploring while the Nomads made camp and began preparing our evening meal.
Our supper was predictably good. Following it, our hosts spread rugs out on the sand, took out their drums and sang. It was quite an experience sitting at the base of the massive dunes, low light emanating from a couple of candle lamps, listening to the spirited Arabic melodies.
That night my sleep was just like that of the previous night, only I kept myself awake longer in the middle of the night watching the sky. It was alive with activity. The stars twinkled. An occasional shooting star flew across the panorama. Satellites flashed as they traveled their lofty assigned paths.
Our adventure in the Sahara was an experience we still talk fondly about today. The only problem with ticking off items from the list is that we have then done them, and we no longer can look forward to that new experience. But the list still contains many adventures we can look forward to - and we do!

Have A Son

The Cuban patriot, José Martí, said that you reach the plenitude of manhood when you plant a tree, have a son, and write a book. I have planted enough trees so that anyone reading this who has not done so can borrow one of mine. The manuscript for the only book that I might have ever written was consumed inside a fiery barrel stove in the Alaska wilderness one evening when I had a couple snorts too many from my scotch bottle. And I do have two children, one each, a son and a daughter. Life is full of happenstance, and one of those is that my son and I are particularly close. I won't say that it's because we're both what he terms "knuckleheads", but, both being Taurus', we both know what it is to grab something and shake it like a pit bull. We have found a lot in common over the years. I think he's a particularly warm, fun and caring person. But what I appreciate about him a lot is that he and I share the same sense of humor (most everyone forgives us for that), irreverence for pomposity (FTITCTAJ), and joi de vivre. He's done some pretty nutty things in life, and that sets him aside from many who just never have the spirit to do such things.
I point out to him that's because he did such a sensible thing as following my example of serving our country in a time of need in the Navy (me: Viet Nam; him:the Gulf War). He corrects my reasoning by saying he followed me into the Navy because he wanted to see if he might find a clue about how to deal with my eccentricities. Life fills our schedules every day, and we probably don't get together in person as much as we should. But we both know the other is out there, never take each other for granted, and we check in with each other frequently on the phone, via texting or mentally across the miles.


Live in the Alaska Wilderness

As I mentioned in a previous post, Nature and I really click. One of the items on my list took a while to engineer, but I never doubted that I'd achieve it. Finding a way to live out in the Alaska wilderness just took some perseverance. Now, this isn't the same kind of hairbrained adventure that young Chris McCandless undertook. His formula pretty well guaranteed that he'd run into trouble. As you might gather from my story about hiking the Continental Divide, big adventures don't scare me. I love 'em. But, research and planning make all the difference.

I was working in a hunting camp south of Jackson Hole. Hunters came there to mostly hunt elk, moose and mule deer. Most of the hunters came from across the 48 contiguous states. But, during one of the hunts, a man and his wife from Glennallen, Alaska came to hunt the elk and mulies. Heavens knows the moose in Alaska were huge compared to Wyoming moose, so Alaska hunters mainly came for the two critters they couldn't find in any size or quantity up there. As is wont to happen in hunting camps, folks become friends and find out a lot about each other. Well, once I got to know the Alaska couple, I said that I'd really love to go up there and live in the wilderness and maybe do the same kind of work I was then doing. It just so happened that these folks knew an old codger who had a hunting camp in a spectacular part of Alaska. They said they saw him every once in a while, and they would mention to him that they had met someone who might like to talk with him about a job.

Well, heck, you know how those things go. After a few months I forgot about the conversation. In the middle of the following winter I received a post card from the Alaska guide that the couple had told me about. He said that he understood I had some of the skills he was looking for and asked me to write him about what I could do. We exchanged a couple of letters and then he told me to meet him on a certain day in a small town in eastern Alaska. He'd pick me up and then fly me out to his camp. I had the job.

So, on May 29th, the appointed day, having made the journey from Wyoming to Alaska, I was right where he told me to be. I had a trunk, a duffel bag and my hunting rifle with me. He appeared, introduced himself, told me to get my gear into his car and off we drove for Chitina, where he kept his two airplanes. There he piled me and my gear into a Super Cub and off we went into the wild blue yonder.

Now, you talk about spectacular mountain scenery! For about and hour and a half we flew over some of the most beautiful and remote land anywhere on earth. At one point, we were winging our way through a pass that had vertical walls that must have been 1,500 ft. high. And then suddenly we popped out of the canyon, flew over the tail of a medium sized glacier, and found ourselves in a broad river valley. My new boss began to lose altitude. He pointed ahead at an island to one side of the river bar and said, "there's your new home."

The Cub came to a stop at the end of a dirt landing strip on the river's shore not far from the island. There was a small channel of watewr running between us and the island. Most of the river was on the other side of the island. We lugged my gear across a small plank bridge and found ourselves at the end of a clearing amidst towering spruce trees. A barn and corral were to our left. Several log cabins dotted the clearing. We headed for a two-story cabin in the center of things.
My digs were on the second floor of what I learned we called the "main cabin". Later I learned that this cabin had been built by a Colorado gold mining outfit in the early 1900's. The cabin logs were massive - maybe 20-24" in diameter, and the cabin had sunk 6-8" into the ground over the years.

As soon as I was settled, my new boss showed me around the place before dinner. The next morning, we were up early. We had a quick breakfast, and then we got back into the Piper. He flew me around the valley showing me where the horses normally could be found and giving me the general lay of the land. After about an hour's flight, he landed. He kept the plane running and told me to go ahead and get out. He said he had things to tend to in town and would see me in a few weeks. With that, he revved up the engine, taxied to the end of the strip, turned the Super Cub around, gunned the engine and disappeared into the air in a cloud of dust. So much for the honeymoon.

This place became home for me, and I enjoyed every minute that I spent there. During the few months of hunting season, the camp was bustling with activity. The rest of the year, it was my solo domain. Of all the months I spent there alone with no way to contact the outside world, I always felt secure and never anxious. I learned every day and experienced some things that were, to say the least, unique.

A passage from my journal reads:
January 12: -23 degrees F.
"It's good to get back outside after our second cold snap when the mercury nearly hit -70 degrees F! (-57 degrees celcius) ... temperatures in the -20's are not considered cold ...."