The Book

A plywood bear painted black has an orange arrow, also painted, bending from the bears assumed mouth to its rump. I ski 3 miles out to this place; the whole distance over white snow. Some snow has formed into Styrofoam hardened drifts called, Sastruggi. over these my skis squeak. Pockets of needle crystals and fragile flakes rest undisturbed by the wind; through these my skis whisk. The sun, midway in the sky, moving through the four O' clock, post meridian, glints a blinking diamond. I push my sun glasses back onto a spot on my face where they will function and resume gliding towards the bear. I do not look behind me yet at the camp. Above me, high in the sky, an airplane passes.
Why am I here? I find the place strange. It is not a sea of water moving underneath a keel. We are not going anywhere but are stationary. A space station. That is a station, in space. Space can be defined by any amount of time and existence taking up room in a vessel. It does not have to be only the cold death of the heavens. If I take off my parka and my mittens, my skin will not immediately crack off of my bones. It would take a few minutes for frost nip to alert the central nervous system.
Steve wants to paint my boots red because they are purposefully, 2 sizes too big for me and look like the proverbial "clown" boot. I selected them this way in order to be able to wear not only socks, but a poly propylene boot liner, a softer, more pliable felt, if you will. After many years of experimenting with different arctic grade boots, this is the warmest set up yet. I am uncertain that the color red will attribute any more solar gain this late in the season, but am willing to be humorous.
Hard buildings: 2
That is, any structure that is built of wood or steel framing having either a wood or metal enclosure.
These are the Big House and the Green House. The Big House so called exhibiting its dominance over all other structures in the camp.
The green House so called to simplify. It's sides are green corrugated sheet metal. It is really made up of several ATTCO buildings pieced together. Presently it is beginning to get buried. We anticipate its total submersion beneath the snow before we are due to leave in early November. This is a normal recurrence. If buildings are not excavated and raised up on some sort of lifting risers, it is inevitable. The Big House was raised this summer. It now stands about 20 feet above the surface.
Soft buildings: 2
The garage, and the storage barn which are both Arctic grade arched tents with inuslated walls.
Temporary buildings: 5+
Shacks, science huts and freezer trenches.
Drifting snow: after just 3 days of winds above 15 knots, will create an entirely topographical landscape. We do not bother to push these drifts away with the 'dozer, or blast them into powdery dispersal by the snow blower, but let them lay, like dogs.
Steve is building a tunnel by the bent of his brow and the heft of a shovel. He has sawn blocks out of the snow and intends to erect a Gamble roof entrance to one of the 3 doors into the Green house that has been recently sealed shut due to drifitng.
I never really gave too much thought to my being in these places; whether out on the Bering sea amidst ice flows, or up at a tiny outpost on the middle of the high, inland ice cap on the world's largest island.
Why?
Lately I have begun to think more and more about the places I have chosen to exist within.
I have also begun to think more seriously about writing "that book". In order to help myself help myself, I have chosen to read classics such as Homer and Tolstoy, listen to Opera, via pod casts (thank you Steve) and to begin researching just how and why I would write a book.
Meanwhile, I ask you this:
Do you think that our contemporary, western society is generally obsessed with or is merely interested in danger (death)?..............
I type in commercial fishing on Amazon .com, in order to get an idea of what the market is selling on the subject of commercial fishing. No surprise, Spike walker and William McCloskey dominate the list. Further searchings bring up, The Deadliest Catch, and again, no surprise, another novel written by one of the TV series's own, Time Bandit. I give you an excerpt:
"Season after season , they bond and battle with its icy depths, determined to reap yet one more rewarding harvest while eluding the ever present threat of sudden, certain death."
Aren't we all mere mortals, or have I missed something?
I do not want to write a book about threatening or cheating death in exchange for commerce. I do not want to write a book about glory, sexism, cold water or dare.
I spent some time discussing, The Deadliest Catch with An antrhopoligist I met while in Kangerlussuaq. Chris, who teaches Arctic life- styles at Berkley felt that after watching so many seasons, it has become a sham. She then mentioned the lack of documented historical aspects on the Bering sea fisheries and encouraged me to at least write an outline.
Now, as I stand on what I presume is to be the lip of another adventure in my life, a time of yielding not to the migratory sequencing of cold white and desolate, but to the thrum of the giving green world and the philosophy of simplistic home steading, I, for the first time, critically begin to wonder, what is it that has motivated me to seek these edges of the fabric of life and why might these thoughts be of interest to the world?