Cacophony of Curses, Swearing and Spittle

Days Walking - 45

I've accepted an slightly odious barter deal. Adrian has Pee Bottle Duty this week, and he really hates Pee Bottle Duty (It's where you are the person to collect all the pee bottles from everyone in the morning, after their overnight use, and take them a safe distance from camp, and empty them.)

It's a pretty straightforward job, but Adrian hates it with such passion. He always manages to get himself spattered in some way. Like those coworkers whom always manage to end up wearing a portion of their lunch.

"Not my favorite tie!" they exclaim.

Simply emptying the pee bottles is not the pain - it's when the contents have partially or completely frozen and you have to warm them by / over the cook stove first. Yeah fun. It's not hard, I'd rather warm pee bottles than cook. How sad is that.

Of the group, I'm probably the biggest juice hog - -
(Juice as in electricity) because I just gotta read me some Robin Diane before sleeping. Unsurprisingly, I really dislike cranking the dynamo to power my fevered need for Conversations. Perhaps we can find some methadone in the next town, and start stepping me down.

I can quit whenever I want. I'm totally in control.
Clicky Clicky Click Click.
...Trembling...
Clicky!

Heather, you should know that you are to blame for my Dooce habit.
A few weeks ago, when I noticed that you linked to only 2 blogs, mine and someone else's, I was oh so curious to discover who could be as amazing as me. (rolling eyes at self) So I clicked on Dooce and damn, she is nothing like me in that she is viciously smart, Japanese Folded Steel Sharp, and wickedly funny. Sigh, it's depressing. Note to all - don't read Dooce just before trying to write your own blog entry, you will feel inadequate and less-than, she is so great.

So for this week I'll be emptying the pee bottles and Adrian will be cranking for fifteen minutes a day as I get my internet fix.

I need to take the time and go back, finish the Day in The Life of Litany post, and I will. But not today. I do want to get my thoughts on that day chronicled before I lose my notes/forget details. This is important to me because road-side hiking and camping is a world different from tundra hiking and camping.

On the open tundra, we had few worries beyond ourselves. We were watching for bears, wary of crossing ice-covered waterways, and so on. But now we're concerned about trucks running us down (we spend most of our time off the road, but we're following it pretty closely because if we should have an emergency, the truckers will hopefully be helpful.)

- - Or officials telling us You Can't Camp Here (though I don't know where we'd go if they did... Would they arrest us and drive us all in a paddy wagon to Fairbanks? Or just give us a ticket/fine?)

- - Or robbers in the night (An evil trucker, down on his luck after losing his whole paycheck during one hand of Gin Rummy, could see our camp from the road and kill us all in the night, stealing our gear and leaving our NAKED frozen carcasses sleepingbagless, forever locked into comfy sleeping poses).

We came upon a broken down truck this afternoon. Jason Ottakar was
the trucker, he was kinda surly at first (I think, at first - He thought we were hoping for a ride) but calmed down and got chatty and showed us pictures of his wife and FIVE CHILDREN who live in Wrangell, Ack. Five kids, woah. I feel sorry for his wife. Jason gets to come home, have some lovin, and head out again. Charlotte has five kiddies to wrangle. We hung out with Jason for about a half hour, he's cool peeps. He shared some of his thermos of coffee and oatmeal raisin cookies with us. Then a repair truck showed up for Jason and we resumed the hiking.

The whole Vow of Silence thing is going all right. Some of the group have decided that Making Litany Talk has become their goal in life, and are doing things like purposely misunderstanding my gestures, sneaking up and scaring me, and intentionally misreading my jotted notes, hoping I will erupt in a cacophony of curses, swearing and spittle, and break my vow.

I'm now sheltering with Adrian, that's a change.
I was getting along fine with Church and she with me, but we all decided to rotate roomies. We won't get sick of any one person this way, and it's a good way to get to know people. Until you've slept with (next to) a person, you don't really know them. Adrian is respectful of my privacy and doesn't talk in his sleep.

Hey my right leg is not cold anymore - Did I mention that I got new thermal underpants while we were in Deadhorse? I did. They were $35 and let that be a lesson to anyone who is baking their underthings and wants to chase bags. Resist the urge.

And caffeine! I now have two bottles of NoDoz. Well one and a half, now. Don't even ask how much $$ they cost, it was obscene. Mmmn sweet sweet arrhythmia how I've missed you.

Oh...Two ladies were startled/dismayed enough yesterday by my vocalized desire to be thoroughly used as though I were farmland that they wrote in concern for my immortal soul.

(Ladies, capital L read my blog? Why? I'm so sorry. Why??)

Thank you very much, but don't waste time praying for my soul.
Pray that the group doesn't die a horrible death. My soul is my own concern. And come on, dismayed Ladies - can you honestly tell me that the need for an utterly complete, comprehensive copulation never comes over you? Get into the corners, clean out the cobwebs? Leaving you spent, wheezing, panting and sore, ready for a long hot shower, a full bottle of Fiji Water and a 9 Hour Nap? No?

It's not Satan's wicked whispers, it's just being a mammal and having hormones. Animals are designed to breed. You can tell by the way that so many of them die right after giving birth / fertilizing their mate. We're just recently civilized animals, after all.

This is just my philosophy, I don't mean to offend anyone or force my views on you. I'm young and still have a lot to learn.

Litany Webb, signing off Everyone was Kung Fu Fighting

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Be Vewy Vewy Quiet

Days Walking - 44

Sshhhhhhhhhhh
Don't tell anyone - -
But we are hiking the Dalton Highway and camping near it at night.

Eyes Narrowed, Brows Furrowed.

We're trying to be somewhat sneaky, in what for us passes as stealth mode. See, there are no camping grounds for quite some distance down the highway, and there's all these State and Federal regs about camping in this hood.

No one has come up to us and said "You can't camp here." but we're not taking any chances.

Unfortunately, we're all garbed in bright safety colors - because
being seen, found, and rescued might one day save our lives in an emergency. The next official, permissible camp site is at Galbraith Lake, about 115 miles away.

So we're trying to camp out of sight of the road at night, and keeping lights to a minimum (a few of us have those nifty red sneaky sneaky filters for their flashlights - I do not). Hopefully if we're not brazenly having a tailgate party, getting our hoot and bonfire on (as if we would or could) and instead are being polite careful little campers, no one will feel the need to harass us.

I am sore today. From hiking, of all things. So sore. My calves, my thighs, my lower back, my neck, everything is sore. I'm doped up on Aleve and Tylenol and still, so sore. I think taking those days of rest in Deadhorse really threw my body off. It was all into the groove before, and now it expects real toilets and beds and showers and it doesn't understand and it's whining. Crunch Crunch Ow Crunch Ow Ow Crunch Ow, Crunch, Ow. Yeah, it was a noisy day to be in my head.

New commenter Sharon, welcome!! Thanks for the informed answer about those well houses! Yay. It's hard sometimes to get good information when the locals choose to mislead you. Ugh I feel like a moron. You're a sweetie, thanks thanks!

Oh the Barrow Sex Igloo? Gabe and Adrian built it as practice while we were waiting for our supplies to arrive. It was a traditional style, with all the cut pieces. If I'd known you would want to use it, we wouldn't have knocked it over!! What is it with boys and carefully building something for hours and then kicking it over?

The Sex Igloo would be an interesting tourist attraction - they could pay spend the night in an igloo. Hmn, could be a money-making idea for when we reach a town... I think there is an ice hotel they build every winter somewhere in Europe.

Ack is a cool place. We should have Seward Day in the 'Lower 48' (as the Ackians call the rest of the U.S. - What, no love for Hawaii?) Or if not Seward Day, then we should have Louisiana Purchase Day, or We Killed the Inhabitants and Stole Their Land Day. Any reason for another day off from work is a good thing in my book, especially when you get paid for staying home.

I hope you're all paying rapt attention to all these gems of knowledge I'm delivering to your desktop daily. Some day, you'll be on Jeopardy...

You: "I'll take Ack for 400, Alex."

Alex: "This U.S. Holiday is celebrated every year, on the last Monday in March."

You: "What is 'Seward Day'?"

Alex: "Hells Yeah."

You: "I'll take Wu-Tang Clan for 1000."

Alex: "Daily Double!"

And you'll be thinking, 'Bless You, Litany. Now I can afford one of those top-secret hoverboards Mattel has been selling to the uber-rich since 'Back To The Future 2' came out!'

In other news, I have taken a Vow of Silence.

Yes, really.

I know you're all aghast, because reading my ramblings must give you quite the insight into my mind, and if so, you're thinking damn this girl probably never shuts up in person.

You're thinking Litany's probably one of those girls you want to bash in the head from behind, so she'll shut up - like the link in Kato's post the other day. I've often considered doing the whole silence thing, even if just for a week. But you can't really operate in the civilized world without speaking, especially when you're going to school, work, etc.

So yeah. I have not spoken a peep all day. I'm taking this quiet time to observe the world around me, the people around me. Internalizing, instead of expressing every silly thought that goes through my head.

Do not misunderstand me, I hold 'silly' in high regard. Taking oneself too seriously should be added to The List of Bad Things in all religious tomes. It should be noted that laughing out loud does not count as talking, and it's a good thing because my group is made up of some funny motherf*ckers.

Note to self - next vow could be to swear less. I will one day have a child gestating within me, and as host and eventual speech-teacher to this offspring, it would be nice if Mommy didn't go around spouting "MothaF*cka!" all the time. I'll have to start practicing early, because it'll probably take me 10 years to break myself of the bad mannered habit. But not now. For now, I will enjoy cussing, and perhaps get it out of my system while I'm in my 20's.

But as I was saying, I'm not talking. Here are some things I have noticed, being all silent and observant. (There should totally be a show where this deaf mute girl solves crimes, because she's oh so observant. Like Monk, but entertaining).

Things I Silently Observed:
-Church has this little frowny dimple that happens in her right cheek before she talks about her ex-bf. I don't think I've ever seen a frowny dimple before, this should be noted by a physician someplace and studied.

-Kwame pauses often as he talks, in a halting, Chandlerian, Shatnerian (yet somehow sexy) fashion that leaves you grinning and hanging on for his next word. It's a technique I tell you! He is a wicked man and I must resist his charms.

-I am really hungry for lovin and attention and I have to be careful or one of these boys will take advantage of me. It's a very good thing there is no liquor among the supplies, or I might get myself snookered, and allow someone to plow me like the North 40. I have lain fallow too long.

-Supposedly it is Spring. It's still -30 with the wind chill. Spring can bite me.

-The UV index is a very healthy Zero

...That's about it, I guess I'm not very observant. I'm planning to keep silent for as long as possible, so hopefully some germs of wisdom or enlightenment will occur to me.

Note: If you think no one will stop to give 8 people and their gear (including Kwame's sled, hello!) a ride, you're wrong. Two truckers stopped, bless you both but we're here to walk.

Litany Webb, signing off

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Curtains For You, Mugsy

Days Walking - 43

It was surprisingly easy, once we'd done it, to show Deadhorse our backsides. Of course, we are all smugness with full tummies, clean clothes, and surplus supplies of toilet paper. We'll see what tune we're whistlin in a week or two when our socks are caked with poo and we are all out of chapstick.

Today was a productive day, made some good progress, had to tell a few concerned truck drivers that we were not broken down, and did not need assistance, and were only slightly insane.

(Instead of Utterly Insane) Speaking of insanity, there was an old dude whom we shared dinner with one evening - Aaron was his name. So we started talking, just shooting the breeze, and he asked what we were doing in Alaska, and we told him, and he flat out laughed at us.

He was like, "No, really..." And we're all "Yes, really." We described the trip from Barrow, showed him pics, and he just kept shaking his head, wondering why in the world eight people would choose to suffer so. He thinks we'd be better off finding a village in Mexico and relaxing in the sun till the money runs out.

The virtue is in the striving, Aaron my man.

After the first two trucks to pass us nearly killed Church and Kwame, we decided to walk off the road when visibility was low. It would be our fault and not the trucker's fault if they squooshed one or more of us. They're not expecting hikers / pedestrians to be on their road.

The Dalton Highway
aka State Rte 11 or North Slope Haul Road
The Dalton Highway is approximately 415 miles long and was built in 1974-75 to open trucking lines, to facilitate the construction of the Prudhoe oil facilities and the northern half of the Trans-Alaska Pipeline. The road is named for James Dalton, an Alaskan Pioneer Engineer who recognized the oil potential of the north slope.

Our guidebooks indicate that there are no services between Prudhoe Bay and Coldfoot, a distance of about 250 miles.

The Dalton Highway is not entirely paved, (supposed to be by 2008) we've heard lots of complaints about dust and gravel - during its thawed state. It's recommended to drive the road very slowly and pull over for trucks (to save your windshield).

We saw pipeline inspection / service vehicles and helicopters once in a while, but we've been cautioned not to depend on their help in an emergency. The road is famous for breaking windshields and destroying tires. It's recommended to attach a rubber car mat (bungies and duct tape!) to the underside of your gas tank, for extra protection.

My Alva Man Mike:
T-Shirts with the Deadhorse logo are indeed available, though I did not buy one. If you're down with their filthy logo, you can give the General Store a call at (907) 659-2412 and they will hook you up, bro.

('Filthy' is slang for 'muy bueno', btw)

Oh for more info about those 'well houses' - you know, I'm not positive that people live in them. I mean, I asked a guy who was walking by, and he said so, ("bunkhouses for the workers") but he kinda chuckled as he spoke. Might have been thinking, 'let's bullshit the city girl' so I'm not sure. Could be covers for some oil drills or something. Grrr. I don't like not knowing.

How many people actually live in this area? Not counting the few thousand oil workers, because while they do dwell, they do not live - - according to the U.S. Census of 2000, only 5 people actually live here. 3 Male, 2 Female. 3 of the 5 are childrens. These resident folks work at the post office, the hotel, and the general store.

Happy Sigh
It's so very nice to be wearing clean, freshly-laundered clothing, I stench of Downy and it makes me so very happy. The hotel had a laundry room which blew me away, because I thought we'd be washing stuff in the sink and hang-drying everything. We got our deliriously happy wash, dry, fluff and fold on, and the hotel people laughed at me. Next time you take toasty warm clothes out of the dryer, remember that they are a nearly holy gift and not a right.

I don't know about you guys, but I looove 'shrooms. Who knew that AK was all about mushrooms? I guess most people think of snow, polar bears, and more snow when they think about Alaska. How wrong I was! Join me Brothers an' Sisters in lamentation for our ignorance...

Kevin - nah I'm not hurt by the ruckus that resulted from the pics. If I posted pics more often, like a good girl should, it would not be such a surprise to see them. Y'all have been patiently waiting for photos, and I finally gave you a couple. It's cool, I'm happy that you guys were happy. :o) I'm a bad chronicler and should be spanked.

Waggling fanny... Please? Just a little?

The shared shower situation was kind of odd, but you get used to it. Like going to the gym, except there weren't any curtains for the stalls. The guys tell me that even at the gyms back home, guys don't have curtains. Don't the guys want curtains? Why don't they have curtains?

You can still be manly and ask for a curtain. Go ask at the desk, maybe you can sign one out? It could have sports team logos or hammers and wrenches or something else testosteronie on it. No?

Anyway, we three girls always made sure that at least two of Our Guys were with us while we were soapy and naked among the Wild Menfolk of AK. They are a very very hairy lot, by the by. Lots of facial hair, back hair, ass hair. Leg hair that begged for braiding. Even our men have gone au naturale and are sporting beards.

(We've started calling this stark, glorious, awe-inspiring state "Ack", in kick-ass Bill the Cat fashion).

So anywhoo, we head into the showers and there seemed to be only one other guy in there, we practically had the place to ourselves. Cool? Not so much. He was making loud breathing noises, and what I can only describe as grunting and panting. I was afraid to look. Was he on the receiving end of oral sex? On the receiving end of some other kind of sex? Enjoying his own company? I didn't want to look.

I looked. There are frosted, wavery glass partitions, so it's not like I was gaping at his package, but I definitely peered in his direction. He was alone, and he wasn't doing anything freaky. He was just getting his scrub on, all vigorous. He had a soapy washcloth and was going to town, soap was flying and spattering, it was all good clean fun. But wow, to listen to it... "Prurient" is the best single word for the sounds, I'd say.

Sounds like a good name for a new Herbal Essences flavor.
Pruriente - Now With Lilac.

Litany Webb, signing off

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Leaving Deadhorse

Days Walking - 42

We're Leaving Deadhorse.

Getting a late start, yes but it's really hard to leave hot showers, warm beds and real delicioso food behind. We should still make some good miles today, since sunset isn't till about 8pm.

Walking a beautiful Man Made Road instead of God Forsaken Tundra (Alaska I Love You Baby, Don't Be Mad) will greatly increase our travel time, even if it is icy, and even if will have to offer succor / right of way to the big scary trucks.

Where are we headed?
SOUTH on The Dalton Highway.
(I'll give you the lowdown on its sordid past tonight) There are a number of small work camps, one of the larger of which is called Coldfoot.

The nearest stop of any size appears to be a place about 60 miles South called '355 Mile Wayside'. That will probably be the next place with an actual porcelain potty.

Scratch that, I aint succoring nobody.
What kind of word is that anyway?

Heather! Per your sage advice, after what might be the last shower of my life (is this how the extreme elderly think about bathing?) I did not apply deodorant or antiperspirant or any perfume or chemical odors of any kind. (Supposedly, I'm going to remain fresh as a lotus blossom for weeks on end without bathing.) You'd better be right or I will not answer your questions ever again. (See? Me listen what you say)

Speaking of questions, I will answer them tonight
(tomorrow's post from your pov).

Robin - Liv Tyler! Big Grin!! Really??
Sigh, no I wish someone had said such a thing to me ever in my life. Want to get married? When someone compares you to an elfin maiden, that's how you know that they are The One.

I asked Gabe about my resemblance to Tolkienian Movie Adapted Characters, specifically those Scions of Rock N Roll Legends, and he used his spoon to fwipp yogurt on me, and then he laughed and laughed and asked me where I was getting these highminded views of myself. He said if a guy asked me that question, they were looking to get into my pants.

Janine, thanks for the link to urban dictionary. I wish that my mention was more positive, but it's like Oscar sez: "There is only one thing in the world worse than being talked about, and that is not being talked about."

As for the offside comments from Lucas, I don't know about this guy. Should I change my settings to block people who are too chicken to link to their own blogs? God forbid someone judge/comment on their cleverness, sexyness level, or lack of. Would that be too harsh? Votes? I mean, I love comments but some people...

Also, on the questions front - I do mean to answer each and every valid query, so if I miss one, feel free to remind me, email it to me, pin a note to my jumper, whatever it takes. Sometimes a question slips through the cracks, and I don't want anyone to feel ignored/sad.

Litany Webb, signing off

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The Soup Light - New Photographic Wonder!

Days Walking - 41

Tomorrow, we head out of Deadhorse and start heading south on the Dalton Highway aka 'The Haul Road'. It’s gonna be interesting to be on an honest to gosh road for a change. Now we’ll be worried about getting run down by cargo / oil trucks, instead of being eaten by a 2000 pound carnivore in the night.

Today being Easter, I'm leaving the carefully filled out and postaged postcards behind to be mailed by the most excellent hotel staff, they rock even if they have no liquor.

All the bears in Deadhorse were killed, by the way. The bears were a safety issue, and efforts to relocate them failed, so the authorities killed them. Or Ordered Their Execution, really.

What, they couldn’t find a zoo that needed a bear?

I haven’t been giving you guys much raw data, history, factoids, etc lately, I’ll get my ass back to work here shortly. I have much info to offer, and you’ll learn it and like it.

Like it!!!
Shaking fist threateningly.

Today is picture day! You’ll enjoy snow with pipes, snow with girls, snow with buildings, snow with snow, and perhaps, if you are good, some pics of snow.

Here’s Anneli in front of the Deadhorse photo op sign:



I told you these folks had a sense of humor... Dead horse with lolling tongue and stink lines. Pride.

Here are some buildings...



And some oil processing structures of some sort...



And this is me at the hotel. I had Church, Anneli, Gabe, and Jake take about fifty pics of me, and this is the only one that's halfways decent.

It's all about finding the right lighting. I was hovering near the soup serving station, the light there was warm and friendly to blemishes.



All the makeup I'm wearing didn't hurt either, I think my skin is having a reaction to this weird substance called soap, and I'm breaking out!!

This next one is an example of the dwellings that the oil workers use for to sleep in and whatnot.



The housing units were brought up by barge from "The Lower 48" Funky, aren't they?

And here's some of the oil piping...



And some snow. Exciting...

And a couple shots of the Post Office.



and



Here's some random equipment.



And some trucks of some sort



And here's a series of piping heading to a processing area



Ha! That'll teach you picture-wanting peoples!!

Pics are a pain! Hope you like em though.

Litany Webb, signing off

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Daddy Loves His Litany

Days Walking - 40

I got my package!



Wheeeeeee! I love packages! Daddy is so sweet!

I finally got my package, and among the contents are the beautiful goodies you see here. Church was a dear and helped me dye my hair. I was gonna let the color grow out, but I had to make use of the thoughtfully sent bottles of red stain. Hee hee hee!!

The cupcakes were ever so yummy, I gave the Ding Dongs to Church as barter for the hair care.

Why oh why would a person name their town “Deadhorse?”
You have to keep in mind that this is a pretty brutal region, and the folks here are proud of their ability to deal with that, and they have a good sense of humor.

The "Where does the name Deadhorse come from?" question gets you different answers, depending on who you ask.

After I asked three people about the name, I gave up, and decided no one really knows.

One story is that in the early 1900's, some speculators from the East Coast were trying to make some money in Alaska, and were being misled by a con man. Despite the fact that they continually lost money, the con man kept finding investors. After a while, the investing community was getting pretty riled up, and it became well known that sending this guy money was like feeding a dead horse.

Another story was that the name comes from the motto:
“We’ll haul anything, even a dead horse.’

Not a very satisfying answer, is it?

Another, more realistic reasoning is that early travelers to the region saw the caribou skulls and mistook them for dead horses. But that answer isn't fun either.

Here’s a snippet from today:

“Hi. Lunch was great, can you tell me -
Where's the bar?”
“........................?”

I'm so pissed off right now, I walked a couple hundred miles, and one thing that helped me put one foot in front of the other when I was oh so tired, one thing to really look forward to, a treat, a pleasant pick-me-up, a soothing salve-for-my-sundered-soul was the idea of having a beer when we arrived.

This will not happen. Someone will pay dearly. Who was in charge of researching this? Who was assigned to the "Alcohol Availability Study" Was it me? I don't think it was me. I don't think any of us considered the idea that in The Land of Manly Men, libation would be unavailable.

You see, there are no bars in Deadhorse.
Alcohol can not be purchased. Legally, anyway. A regular joe might have some for sale / barter, but you can't walk up and put money on the counter and get a bottle of suds. Grrr. Well, odds are, as rules-conscious as these folks are, they would not sell to underage me anyway. But damn, what about the oil-workers? You can't tell me that they don't feel the need after work now and then.

...It probably makes this place a lot more orderly and peaceful...

No bars, no churches, no movie theaters, no schools. This is a place of sharp contrasts - there’s the corporate industrial elements, and the dreary, bleak rundown unkempt elements. No one really lives here, it’s more of a work camp than anything. The workers have oilfield duty for like two weeks at a time, and then they’re off for two weeks. When they’re off duty, they usually fly back to wherever home is. So there aint much here.

Yes, I have pictures, I will post them soon.

Heather - You asked some good questions:
How much juice does your laptop require? How much back-up do you have? Are you now rationing battery time?

The laptop is a juice whore. I think I royally ruined the battery, by giving it repeated daily minimal churches using the crank generator every day for over a month. After charging all night, I was running off the battery today and it died after about 40 minutes. It used to last about four hours.

We use a 'Human Powered Generator', which was like $400 and belongs to Kwame. We all barter with him for use-time. It generates 50-125 watts (1/6 HP at 12 volts) it’s a heavy duty magnet DC generator, and we use a power inverter to convert the DC to AC. The laptop desires 19 volts, and the inverter puts out 12v, so charging efficiency is impaired a bit by that. For about 45 minutes of cranking, I get about 10 minutes of battery charge. Or we can take turns cranking constantly while the other person uses it, and then trade off.

Kevin - I have to admit, the 'stopping in a random town and working' time has not been factored in to the total expedition time. There’s really no way to estimate that. So we just calculated walking time. Only time will tell what the total is.

Am I having fun? I try. Some days are good, and others are just so much slogging. This whole trip is a big jump from a typical 9-5 routine, but it’s a different kind of routine. I’m glad to be here, (on the expedition, in Alaska, in Deadhorse, take your pick) I’ll be glad to move on… It’s fun to have electricity.

~ ~ ~

Ode to the Blessed Electric Wall Socket
I move close to your smooth surface
Gazing into the winking eyes of your slots
Dreamy deep pools of possibility,
Of hidden potential,
The cool hum of electrons
Marching with a subsonic orderly hum
And flowing out into my appliances
Juicing me up and turning me on

~ ~ ~



By the way, Jake is a fan of a movie called Star Wars. You may have heard of it. This is him, in his wind-chill blocking flesh-saving mask that he modded from some ski goggles, fast drying acrylic, and a Halloween costume. He's really proud of the cold weather mask, and posed special. Jake really wants to be a storm trooper when he grows up. Anneli is surprisingly laid-back about this goal. Wait wait apparently it's clone trooper, not storm trooper. Is there really a difference?

Litany Webb, signing off

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Carol is the Keymaster

Days Walking - 39

Let's just say that today was not the day to wander uninvited onto the British Petroleum Oilfield at Prudhoe Bay.

Allow me to be clear - we didn't climb a fence or anything. No signs. It was like a meridian or something. An invisible, imaginary line. On this side, wild tundra. On that side, regulated tundra.

About three o'clock, a chopper went over. It was at like two hundred feet, and with no other distractions, it was pretty neat. We were all excited and waving.

It went away, then came back a few minutes later. It did a low, slow flyby, checking us out. We waved some more.

Hi!! Hey there pilot dudes!



It's all good, no emergency here. Just hiking.

Twenty minutes later, three very grim, stern, unsmiling, no-nonsense BP Security Officers roared up to us on snowmobiles, to inform us we were on restricted land.

Apparently, the pristine tundra is not to be disturbed, on pain of Severe Corporate Fines and Federal Infractions.

EEEEEEEK.

It's a good thing they didn't catch Our Group performing The Poop Tent Ballet.

Adrian, Kwame and Jake, being the most charismatic and knowledgeable, did all of the talking, apologizing, bowing and scraping. The rest of us just stood there with freaked-out looks on our faces.

Franklin, James, and Walter (the security guys) told us about the blast at the Texas City refinery, and how all BP plants were on high alert.

They kept repeating:
"Thousand Dollar Fine Per Person and Time Served" as if they were highly peeved robotic enforcers. (Ed209) Now don't get me wrong, I'm all about law enforcement, it's a hard, thankless, difficult duty and these guys were doing their jobs, protecting their territory.

I just tried to look small and innocent.

But I almost pee'd myself, I was afraid and chilled and it had nothing to do with the temperature. These were the first people we'd seen in weeks, and it was lots of clipped, gruff orders, stern glaring, and clenched jaws.

We apologized a thousand times, averting our gaze with respect, and all that. Adrian, Kwame and Jake walked away from the rest of us, to talk to them. I don't know exactly what A, K, and J said, but the security dudes finally downgraded to yellow alert.

The workers at the oilfield are all under very strict rules due to all the Federal Regulations which the oil company has to enforce, ensuring that the tundra is not disturbed. There is a lot of tip-toeing, since the oil folks don't want to piss off the government. Literally billions in petro-dollars are at stake. I guess I'm surprised they didn't just sniper us from the chopper. Billions? I'd snipe someone for that.

We were escorted to Deadhorse, which is where the village is. Prudhoe Bay is the waterway (obviously) and the oilfield, but the town is Deadhorse.

So we're at the hotel, and Dear Lord the shower was good. The hotel is dormitory style, with shared / communal bathrooms, but I didn't give a damn about that. I was blissfully unaware as I scrubbed every crevice, thrice. I must have been in there for like 45 minutes, I'm not exaggerating. And they never ran out of hot water, this is heaven, I have died and I can report to you that heaven is a hot shower, and the men are cute, but they have furry asses.

There's a big freakin package (Daddy!) for me behind the front desk, but it's locked up in the security cage and Carol won't be back until sometime tomorrow. Carol is the Keymaster.

They even feed you here, it's included in the room. Get a load of this crazy shit - there are places in the world where hot food comes out of a kitchen, and is placed on plates, (round, flat disks) and can be eaten with utensils (like fingers, but better, esp when it comes to soup. Potato. Cheese. Soup. Tastes like it was made by Betty Freakin Crocker herself.) while sitting at a table, as if we were a civilized species.

My package was taunting me in the night.
Liiiitannneeeee. Come pick the lock....
How hard could be, Liiitannneeee?

What the hell am I doing typing? I woke early because I have become accustomed to waking up early. I pee'd in a real live toilet! I should be sleeping on my soft soft comfy bed till at least sunset.

Dear Carol, come back soon. Love, Me.

Litany Webb, signing off

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Life IS Pain, Highness

Days Walking - 38

I'm actually typing this myself for a change.
It's a pain in my ass and I don't miss doing it.

I had the idea to do A Day In The Life of Litany before we reach town. This is what happened today.

It's gonna be long.
Those of you with short attention spans - - -
Should click to a more succinct blog.

You stubborn, read-to-the-end types - - -
Might want to get a powerbar and a sports drink.

4:23AM
I wake up and have to pee. I consider getting up and using the Night Bottle and the SannyFem, then decide it can wait. I roll over and go back to sleep.

4:37AM
Gotta pee. But it's cold. So cold. The thought of uncovering my delicate nertherparts makes me want to cry. Bite lip and wait for need to pee to fade.

4:52AM
Sanny and Bottle have been deployed from their heavy-duty freezer bag. It took some maneuvering to unpackage them without leaving my sleeping bag. I now have a nasty neck cramp. After difficult, painful equipment deployment, need to pee has faded.

5:03AM
Church talks in her sleep, saying quite distinctly:
"You bale it, I've eaten my fill."

5:07AM
Need to pee has returned with Vengeance. This time it's personal. I squirm and procrastinate. Besides, Church might wake up while I am in the midst of my squat, and who wants to see that?

5:08AM
I couldn't possibly. I'm having a random attack of shyness, and there's no way I could go potty until Church gets up and gives me a minute alone.

5:08:30AM
No No No NO.

5:09AM
Aaaaaaahhhhhhhhh.

5:10AM
I don't know what the big deal was, she never even twitched. I'm feeling much better now. Life is good again. I'm ready for breakfast and a nap and some lovin. Steak and eggs please. And pancakes. A big f*cking stack of pancakes. And bacon.

5:12AM
Ingested one Oatmeal Raisin granola bar. Am thirsty. Water bottle is too far away to reach. I suck on my tongue and think about how Shelly is a F*cking Bitch.

6:42AM
Kwame calls out "The sunrise is gorgeous! You gotta come see this."
I wake up to see Church putting away SannyFem.

I pretend I'm asleep and am glad I missed spotting the squatting.

7:03AM
Church pokes me with the friendly end of her trekking pole, from a safe distance. She knows all too well I am a flailer / biter / scatcher . "Get up. It's your turn to make food."

(We stopped calling what we do 'cooking' a long time ago).

Poke "Hey. Wake up." Poke "Hello?" I pretend to be in a deep sleep.

7:10AM
Poke poke poke poke

7:19AM
I am sitting up, a huge accomplishment.

7:22AM
All bundled up. I keep the clothes I will wear the next day in my sleeping bag, so they can be a somewhat neutral temperature for donning. I can get dressed really quickly nowawadays. Eric would be flabbergasted.

The group is grumbling because the sun has been up for almost 45 minutes and they have not yet been fed. Apologies offered for all. No one accepts.

7:35AM
The group has been eating unhealthy foods lately, I muse. They will have simple fare this morning, to remind them of their roots, their purpose.

And I am tired.

I pile a couple of gear bags in front of the stove for a wind break. I set up the collapsible wire rack to keep the stove off the ice. I use the pocket stove with fuel tablets and a pan to melt some ice and whip up some nice rehydrated Thai Veggie Slop, and some Ginger Sesame Slop.

But wait, I've skipped some steps.
- - Wavery Flashback Dissolve - -

You see, making food, like everything else out here, is a huge pain in the ass. You don't go to the cupboard to get a pan, you have to find out where it's packed (a rip-roaring mystery whodunit based on forensic evidence and who used it last) and unpack it.

Often, it's at the very ultimate bottom of whatever bag it's in. Even though it gets daily use. And if it's dirty (which it was), you have to clean it. Then you have to find a pick or a shovel, cause there's never any powder when you want some.

Where's the shovel?
I think Adrian used it last.
Where's Adrian?
I think he's 'reading the morning paper'
Where's the pick?
I don't know.
I thought the pick was yours.
It is but I loaned it to Caeled a few days ago.
Where's Caeled?
I don't know.

What the hell? It's not like he's down at the arcade, plugging Sacagawea’s into Tekken 4.

For want of a shovel, we all starve.

I angrily used my snowshoe to punish the ice until it cried uncle and cracked enough to allow me to scoop some into a pan. Once you have a decent sized crack, it's pretty easy to break off more. Crystalline fracture dynamics and et cetera.

7:58AM
Everyone suddenly appears, once the food is ready.
Where the hell were they when I needed a shovel?

7:59AM
Everyone is done with their slop, and they complain briefly about my food prep skills before vanishing - to allow me to melt enough snow for all the water bottles, clean up the pan, pack and stow the pan, pack and stow the stove. And pack the non-degradable refuse for future legal disposal. You know, so Majestic, Regal Polar Bears can dig through it at the Capitalist Slobs of U.S.A. Dump. It's just sad.

8:21AM
Gabe appears, the instant I'm done cleaning and packing.
"You were looking for me?"

"No...?"

If I had a hammer, I'd hammer out a warning.

8:33AM
I made thorough use of the poop tent.
Yes, we could use our shelters from the night before as out-houses just before our departure, but this is a no-no. If an injury, extreme weather, or other emergency occurs, you might have to return and re-use your shelters.

Um. Somehow, as of this morning, we have run out of TP.
(I suspect the sniffle-sufferers Kwame and Church used up a large portion expelling snot into our supply. Must buy cloth handkerchiefs for snorting into.) So we've started using socks which are then placed into ziplock bags. Only #2 is sock-worthy. Gross gross I know. For #1, you get to air dry. It's cold so you don’t want to wait around. Picture lots of hand-waggling, air-fanning motions, as though you're waving at your privates.

8:40AM
We do a quick check to confirm we're not leaving anything behind, and set out towards destination.

I have a little printed list I made while I was still in LA. It's laminated even. It's a reminder list for mornings, so I don't forget things:

- Dad Loves His Litany
- Dad Misses His Litany
- iPod
- Headphones
- Gum (been all out for weeks and weeks)
- Goggles
- Scrunchy in place?
- Extra Scrunchy on wrist
- Earplugs on lanyard

(I have been prone to ear infections in the past, and biting cold wind is to be kept at bay at all costs)

8:51AM
Walking, the snow crust is thin here. Now that I don’t need it to be. Crunch Crunch Crunch Crunch

9:37AM
A fastener on Gabe's snowshoe snapped with a loud PING sound.
We gathered around like a Doofus of Deputies. After analysis of the evidence, we determined that metal fatigue is the culprit, due to incorrect use. It seems he regularly uses his S-Shoes to dig into the ice as a shelter-building tool. What kind of moron uses their snowshoe to break ice? The snowshoe is tied back on using fishing line. It has less give, but with 250 pounds of tensile strength, it should hold. Plus Jake ties knots wicked good. I need to learn.

11:15AM
15 Minute Break. Adrian and Church do a ‘greet and speak’ with each of us, evaluating our condition, lucidity and the status of any verboten exposed skin. By now we all know the drill, and protect ourselves from the elements and Church and Adrian's scathing wrath. Not necessarily in that order.

I took this opportunity to swap ipods with Jake, part of the Share Da Love initiative. He’s all about Beastie Boys, Dead Milkmen, Butthole Surfers - you get the idea - it’s what is typically considered ‘obnoxious’ music for most people. It’s good stuff, but I have to be in the mood.

The ipod I’ve been handed is on Pause. So I hit play:

“…A little bit of Monica in my life, a little bit of Erica by my side, a little bit of Rita's all I need, a little bit of Tina is what I see, a little bit of Sandra in the sun…”

Bastard.

He’s hit me with Mambo Number 5. I have an issue with this song, once I hear it. It insinuates itself into my soul. Now I’ll be hearing it in my head for days, singing it, humming it, whistling it. And he knew that. And now he’s snickering at me. Oooh he’s such a little shit.

One of these days I’ll find out what his psycho song is, and then:
It’s War.

11:30AM
Crunch Crunch Crunch Crunch

11:45AM
Jake’s ipod battery gives out in the middle of a Pixies song, but it doesn’t matter because I’m done. My ears are starting to hurt, and clap your hands once and clap your hands twice and if it looks like this then your doing it right I’m starting to get a headache anyway.

12:05PM
Crunch Crunch Crunch
Scoot Scoot Scoot
Schoosh Schoosh Schoosh,

The texture of the ground has changed, and it’s a nice change of pace. I kind of swish my hips and get into it.

12:35PM
To me flirtin is just like a sport, anything fly - its all good let me dump it, please set in the trumpet…

1:00PM
Lunch time.
Usually, for the mid-day meal, we can’t be bothered to deploy the stoves or eating implements, so a hot meal is not our destiny. We shrug out of our packs and sit on them. Kwame and Adrian sit on their sled, aloof and above us all. They can have that damn thing. We munch down on fitness bars, granola, dried fruit. Bunny food.

1:30PM
Church and Adrian gave us another once-over. Caeled was griping about his fungus issue, but none of us felt too much sympathy, because it’s his own damn fault.

1:40PM
More hiking. Schoosh schoosh, and whatnot.

- - - - - -

Damn, this is really long and I’m only up to 2PM. I do all to fall in love with a girl like you, You can't run and you can't hide, You and me gonna touch the sky, I have notes. I’ll finish this later. Like, after I’ve showered and slept in a real bed. Which could be as soon as tomorrow.

Hee hee I can't wait!

Hmmn mnn hmm hmn hmmmm dooo dee da doo doo da da

Blogger won't let me log in for some reason. Emailing to Marina...

Litany Webb, signing off

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A Fetish for 80's Synth

Days Walking - 37

Been getting a bunch of responses for postcards!
Cool, cool. It's kinda funky to learn people's real names. But I still think of Kato as Kato, even though his real name is Boy Georgette.

Who knew that he was actually a cross-dressing lounge singer with a fetish for 80's Synth?

No, no I'm joking.
Kato is All Man, and Ladies Love Cool Kato.

Still, it's interesting to get email from people using their indoor voice, as it were. Compared to comments, that is. I'm a strange person, and I collect friends and store them in my subconscious as avatars. Sometimes Gabe or Jake or someone will quip a wisecrack, and I think "If Robin were here, she'd say blank," or "Kthrne would have a good laugh at that."

My avatar pals. Someday I will be in a jam and I will summon my Commenting Homies like undead spectral warriors. Like, let's say I'm getting mugged. I'll utter the chant and the weird green smoke rolls into the room from nowhere, and the ghostly forms will materialize. My ghostly crew efficiently kills the mugger, and then we all chill on the couch and have some Sour Cream Doritos and Code Red Mt. Dew.

Holy Cow, someone not only clicked on an ad (at the bottom of the blog) the other day, but bought something from the resulting consumer site. I have hereby earned sixty three cents, how cool is that?

(When it reaches $100, they send a check. More likely, my account will be canceled from non-use long before that.)

I put the ads on the blog just as a lark.
I was like, "Text ads based on post contents?"
"Whoo Haa sign me up!"

I was expecting all sorts of amazingly funny ads appearing, since I am wont to talk about anything and everything. But alas no. Usually it's something like "firewood at low prices" or "scuba gear extravaganza", and I read through my post to see where I mentioned scuba. Nope, no mention of scuba...

I guess the ads you see are based on your region - which means that Heather is seeing different ads than Robin, who is seeing different ads than Celia.

Hmn, let's shake up the content-scanning ad computer.
Ahem: Alfalfa. Vibrator. Sex Toy. Rockets. Cabbage. Hookers. Ummm. Lisp. Body art. Tongue Stud. Henna Hermaphrodite. Vigilante. Gigolo. Porn. Sex. Loch Ness Monster. Flaccid. Termites. Tattoo. Crabs. Shrimp. Don't Want No Scrubs. Don't Want No Short Short Man. You're Not Ready For This Jelly.

Anything good? What do you guys see for ads?
Sadly, this kind of thing entertains me.

Janine! I'm glad to see I did not offend you for all time. My folks are not divorced. They're ah separated. I don't really want to go into it right now. And have been for a long time. Dad won't take his ring off, but he will go on dates from time to time. He's silly and I love him. Don't feel too bad for him, it was a long time ago and he has lots of companionship and doesn't even have to do his own laundry.

Kevin, wow it's been like a week, I thought you'd found something better to do with your time. :o) After you described your work and responsibilities (The Munchkin!!! Do not let her out of your sight for a split second. The world is an evil place for a young girl, how well I know) I was like, Wow, this professional writing guy tolerates my ramblings? How you must cringe at my grammar!

(How you ALL must cringe, daily - you needn't be a professional to appreciate correct usage).

Clean city clothes? Ha ha ha ha ha. Nothing is clean except the one outfit of Sunday Clothes I mentioned yesterday, and that's simply because those clothes are too thin to provide insulation and are therefore useless. I started out with the intent of saving some garb for polite company, but that plan was very quickly discarded. Every other bit of clothing (sans Sunday) I'm carrying is stinky.

Financing - (insert FAQ answer data here) Each of us scraped together the initial fundage for our gear by ourselves. A couple of the guys took out loans from friends and family. Plus, you'd be surprised how little you can live on when you're not paying rent, car payments, insurance, gas money, and lunch at PF Chang's.

To date, I alone have spent about $11,000. $7,082 was from my savings. I made $1200 selling my car, and $563.22 selling the majority of my worldly possessions. Then I cashed out a chunk of my college fund.

Spending Money? A tiny bit. Gotta be careful.

It would be impossible for any group without a crazy amount of corporate funding to pay for a trip like this all at once, out of pocket. We're being as thrifty as possible, cutting every corner that does not impinge on safety.

We're gonna have to put down roots - er - tent pegs - from time to time, get temporary jobs, and refill our (imaginary) teflon-infused inflatable plastic coffers. Ugh. Not looking forward to that, really. Working some random job in some random place. I am looking forward to it, and I'm not. It will be a really good way to get to know the people in a town, and become imbued with the spirit of a place.

But what if I decide to stay in that place? Not finish the walk?
Would that be a good thing, bad thing, etc.

Making money - I hope to publish a short story or two some day, but that's just a pipe dream, and none of us are looking at my typing fingers and actually expecting them to conjure our breakfast. There was a relic in D&D, this magic bowl that you would put water into and stir, and it would make a thin gruel. Yeah. My typing fingers can't even do that.

Robin - thanks for asking, but my current short story in development is floundering. I try to work on it every day, and I write part of one line and then cross it off with scribbles so that no one can ever read the crappiness of it. Maybe it's just the scene I'm trying to write. I'll try skipping ahead and coming back later.

Oh - another money maker - Gabe, being an equipment designer, garnered a deal to test out several pieces of prototype camping equipment. He has to write thorough reviews (the scary kind that only an engineer can write) for the product research studies / real world evaluations, and he's gonna get a bit of cash for that, but only after the three-month test period.

He doesn't know it yet,
But he's gonna share that meager cash with us.
Bwa ha ha

Litany Webb, signing off

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Wearing Woo and Pillow Pants Too

Days Walking - 36

Heather! Dahling. Yes, we can see the glow of light pollution!! It's somewhat creepy, actually. For weeks, the only light has been the sun, the moon, and what we make. Now there's big X-Files looking glow looming ahead. Fouling up my crisp, clean, no caffeine view of the Milkiest of Ways. But I welcome our arrival.

Civilization is coming... I can feel it...
Boys, liquor, fried foods, hot running water, Electricity that pours like a holy spring from the wall (swoon), Boys, Blonde Ale...

(Oh - Email Erin -
Yes, I am NOT of legal age to drink, that was an astute observation.
I am a very bad person. I promise not to drive.)

Speaking of strangers - Attractive Alaskan Boys with their rugged good looks, strong hands, tight butts, and predilection to buy pretty girls a drink, we've decided to begin the beautification process. Anneli, being All-About Jake of late is not a free bird, but she joined in for the fun femininity of it. (And I'm sure Jake appreciates it)

Being the friendly grooming primates that we are, Church, Anneli and I got together last eve for a Girls Night of sorts. There was much picking through fur and eating of grubs, tweezing, plucking, exfoliating, and so on. Church hooked us up with a manicure. She's really good. It seems that 'Nails 101' is part of her veterinary skills, and we were well-behaved and no one had to hold us down so we wouldn't squirm or bite. She found this a refreshing change. We had to carefully warm the polish (I like to use the crook behind my knee) so that it wouldn't be globby.

"Your toes are your own problem" She said.

Anneli did a thorough, vicious, merciless job on our eyebrows, especially mine (OW!!) and I am once again suitable for display in public places. She tuhrminated one follicle too many on the right side, and now it looks slightly funky. It's silly what one single brow hair will do to your symmetry. I'll just use a gentle smudge of mascara to blend it, no worries.

I gave mini-facials with my amazing apricot scrub and cucumber rinse, and now we all have a glow to shame Aurora. That bitch. She's so shifty.

My hair will have to wait for civilization. I really need to dye my roots. The red has had a good month to grow out, and the new growth is that flat brownish (almost grayish) mouse-like color that is bland and unappealing.

I have sinfully wronged my hair with umpteen diabolical treatments since I was 12, (How could Daddy say No to such a cutie?) and now my natural color looks like ass. I'll just have to wear a hat until I can take care of the roots, that's all. I should have dyed my hair back to an ordinary brown before we started, and it wouldn't show as badly. Now I'll remember. I really like it red, though. Or reddish. It never really becomes the red I dream for.

Also, I realize now that I had not given enough thought to what I would wear while in civilization. I have one classy top and skirt combo (Dad would call them Sunday Clothes) and a lot of sweatclothes and hiking garb. How will I woo men thus clothed? I suppose that round these here parts, men are accustomed to having their women packaged in three-ply down-filled pillow pants.

"Darlin, is them your hips, or your pantaloons?
...I don't like me no bony women."

"Come find out, Sailor."

This is like a makeover episode, isn't it?
Sorry, not very interesting.

The wind is gusting up to 25mph.
Wind chill -35.

How's that for a reality check?
I'd rather talk about pillow pants.

Litany Webb, signing off

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Lips Slickery With Balm

Days Walking - 35

Gah! I got an email from my brother tonight, out of the blue. He wants a postcard. I didn’t even know he was reading the blog… I haven’t heard from him in over a year, so it was kind of odd.

We had a falling out a few years ago, and it’s been a while since we spoke. I guess during this trip is as good a time as any to start up a dialogue again. I guess. I'll tell you guys the whole story one day.

It was just a really odd moment, I’d come inside after helping Adrian and Gabe rebuild their shelter (part of it collapsed, and for once I had nothing to do with a mishap.) and booted up, connected, listening to the wind blow and the group joking around, and poof, Brother Email.

Anywhoo…

Caroline took the time to drop me an email and ask about the medical status of the group. I know that I’m bad about just talking about the things that go wrong, injuries but not remedies, etc. I'll try to provide the beginnings and endings of health escapades, from now on.

Gabe’s lips have healed up nicely, by the way. He was very careful with tending them, and we three girls harassed him endlessly, guaranteeing that his lips were always slickery with balm.

Kwame and Church are finally over their colds, and surprisingly, none of the rest of us caught their bugs. The fact that only the two of them got sick makes me wonder how they managed to share germs with one another, but no one else. Macking? Perhaps… But if so, they are very adept at keeping their actions secret. Plus, I think Church would tell me, she’s very open.

I just noticed something - My first thought always jumps to ‘Macking’. I guess it’s because I’m a big fan of kissing, and it shows. I can make out with a boyfriend for a good half an hour, with no intention of going any further. It’s just so nice. Warm and close and immediate. It takes a while for my poor men to learn that often, kissing just means kissing, even if our mouths are open.

Snog snog snog snog snog -
OK I’m ready for the leftover Chinese now!
Mmm Moo goo gai pan

My ankle is and has been all better for a while now, it gives me a surprise twinge like once every couple of days. Mebbe it’s trying to tell me something. Mebbe something is about to happen at that moment, somewhere in the world, and my wrenched ligaments are a portent. Nothing useful, of course. No lottery numbers…

“Somewhere, someone is eating a peanut butter, jelly, and cucumber sandwich! Alert!”

Twinge!

Oh - Caeled’s fungus issue was clearing up, then he lapsed in his vigilance shall we say, and he’s had a relapse. He’s a goofus. How itchy-burny down below does the man have to get before he takes care of the problem?

Litany Webb, signing off

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Sexy Brits and Assorted Sexy Europeans

Days Walking - 34

We should reach civilization in four or five days, depending on weather conditions, meteor impacts, crazed doohicky outbursts, flaming undergarments, etc. We’ll have a chance to get a lot accomplished, aside from the R&R stuff. Looking forward to that.

It’s time for you guys to let me know if you want a postcard! I know that a lot of folks feel icky giving out their addresses online. I know because I’m one of you. I appreciate my privacy (outside of blogging, of course) as much as the next girl.

So if you have an address you’re comfortable giving out, like a work address, or a post office box, or whatever - send it to me in an email, (don’t post it in a comment for the world to see) and when we get to town I’ll send you a postcard. I promise not to sell your names to a mailing list company.

Now, I don’t think more than a handful of folks read this blog, so we should be cool. But if I get 500 address emails, I’m sorry but only like 5-10 of you are going to get postcards. I’m not made of the mad cash. If you read every day but never speak up, I gotta admit, the loyal daily commenters will be getting cards before you!

If you desperately want a postcard but are too paranoid to give out your address, email and say so and I’ll get you an e-card. Least I can do for all the laughs and good advice you guys give me!

The Prisoner - oh heck yeah. Great, bizarre show. It always annoyed me though - at some level, to watch the show. There were always so many escape tricks that were so obvious that the imprisoned people never tried!

If a big anti-escape balloon ever came after me, I’d take my pointy stick and jab it. Like in The Simpsons episode where they lampoon The Prisoner. POP! That’s what I’m talking about, Homer don’t play that.

Plus, if I woke up on a comfy island with a bunch of Sexy Brits and Assorted Sexy Europeans, (I have a big weakness for exotic accents) I would enjoy life, get my groove on. At least for a month or two. Let them probe me, who cares. Let them watch my every move -

“…She likes olives on her pizza - did you get that, Mr. York?”

“Got it, Sir.”

“Capital. Oh, and it appears she likes green peppers on her pizza as well, but only for their remnant flavor - she removes them before eating the pizza.”

“Noted, Sir.”

Under such scrutiny, I’d have to stop all grooming and shaving and allow myself to become as unappealing as possible, and perform every Bad Naked maneuver I could. Bwa ha ha.

Poor spying dudes.

Litany Webb, signing off

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Yet Another Tale of Woah

Days Walking - 33

So who’s a moron? Yeah, it’s me. I had decided that it was time for the weekly washing (well, rinsing really…) of my thermal underwear bottoms -you know, whether they needed it or not.

In order to dry them, I used three walking sticks and some one-way ties to create a makeshift tri-pole (like the skeleton of a teepee) and draped my long underwear over this structure, clipping it in place.

Then I placed the Coleman stove under the tripod, and let it get its heat on.

I was right then called away to help chase down an escaped gear bag (they’re always trying to escape. It’s like the folks on the island in The Prisoner. Daily - someone cries out “Bag getting away!!” or sometimes “Bag Alert!“ and takes off running after it. If the wind is at 15mph or higher, and the bag is the right size (which it is, since it’s blowing away) it will get its merry tumble on, all gleeful and taunting.

I swear the bag will stop and let you get closer, and then take off again, in a new tangent. Like a playful runaway dog who thinks it's all a game.

So it’s me and Caeled and Adrian, dashing off across the snow after the bag. Adrian catches it (only fair since he’s the one who lost it) and we meet up as he’s walking back.

He does that gesture with his chin - like a guy nod but not - and we look back to camp to see a stream of grey smoke.

Yeah. My underpants were getting their serious smoke on. Like a brazen high school student who lights up in front of the Principal. So I’m yelling for someone to save my underpants as I’m running, but no one can understand me - cause you know, I’m running.

I got to the tripod and I just kicked it over, into the snow. I tried to kick some powder over it, but of course, there’s no powder right there. (Note to self, create powder pile next to stoves before lighting them, from now on). I ended up stomping my cheerily smoldering underpants thoroughly into the ice, which agreeably melted into the cloth.

Damn damn damn.

It could be worse - the majority of the right leg is now gone. Being synthetic, it melted more than it actually combusted. The leg was fused together front and back, and I had to cut it off. What’s left is blackened, and not in the delicious Cajun syle. Hell, I’d take hickory or mesquite at this point. No.

Why me? Why did I not say “Let them get the bag, I’m busy baking my thermals just now?” Because I’m easily distracted, impulse buying was invented for me. And I’m hungry for entertainment. And because being the Bag-Captor carries a special honor, ("Bagachoo, I choose you!") and I want that honor. And because up to this point, nothing of mine had caught on fire. Clearly I will be more careful going forward.

After it was clear that the fire was out, and that no one was hurt, everyone had a good laugh at my expense. We all do dumb things, today was just my day.

Um. I think this is one too many reports of myself as a dufus. Let’s change it, shall we?

…Edit edit edit…

So yeah, um… Anneli caught her thermal underpants on fire this morning, (yeah, that’s the ticket) and we had to laugh. The right leg is mostly gone, and she says that her leg is cold, and she won’t be making that mistake again.

Oh that Anneli, (hee hee!) she’s always doing something, that crazy distracted girl.

(Are they buying it?)
(I don’t think so.)

Litany Webb, signing off

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Muk-Luk Wearing Mahakalas

Days Walking - 32

News flash!
Nothing happened.
We came across a perfectly ordinary sedimentary rock that Gabriel swears is a meteor.

"Um, Gabriel, there's like a snail fossil right here."

"That's why it's such a spectacular meteoric discovery!"

Hmn.
It was too big to carry away, so we noted the coordinates for the USGS. I'm sure they'll make it their top priority. Also, sedimentary.

Janine - I'm truly sorry if I offended you, or any other readers. I don't feel that same-sex relationships are a bad thing, I just don't know if they're for me. I'm not anti, I'm not phobic, I've just never met a woman that made me want to commit to her in an physically intimate relationship. I'm sorry that your first comment was a snarky one. Let's be pals?

Mike - a group photo?
Are you the insane? Right now, we all look like well-equipped Neanderthals. My skin is blotchy and slimy (combination skin is the polite term) my hair is a total disaster. And my eyebrows - let's not go there. I'm not all that vain (being not all that attractive) but I am after all from Los Angeles. Which means I have certain overdeveloped expectations and standards for my appearance in a photo. For me to be posting a pic at this point, in this condition, in this state of disrepair, nope.

I'm thinking of you guys - Seeing me in my crusty form, you'd recoil from your keyboard in distaste and never read my blog again. (Cause I know you only come here for pics of hot chica's...) I've tried to take some pics of the group, but all I get is a torso with a blurred hand (you don't have to imagine very hard to picture the gesture the hand is suggesting) in front of the face.

No one wants to be seen right now. Jake let me take a pic the other day while he was wearing a gear bag over his head, but I doubt that's what you're looking for. I know that you guys want to put faces to all our names, (it's just so many silly words without photos).

Oh, while we're on the subject - Nice pic, Robin!

Once we arrive in Prudhoe and I can shower, condition, shower, pluck, shower, apply foundation, coverup, powder, spackle, wash and wear clean clothes, let the zit on my nose fade away, I will hook you patient people up with a photo - of myself at the very least. I promise!

How did I assemble the team - I posted queries/descriptions via online bulletin boards for insane expedition-hiking-type peoples! It took about nine months total to find everyone and narrow down the list to the final eight and alternates for each member, based on skillset. Good thing, too - three of the original people ended up bowing out. Two of em were a couple, and they got pregnant.

Kato - Ohhh, 'Dapping' is fist bopping, got it. I never knew what its proper name was, thanks. Hee hee! Dap right back atcha!

Lucas - thanks for the link to the computer voice site. I must be doing something wrong, because all I get after I type in my text and hit 'go' is a broken web page. No biggie. Exactly zero votes for mp3 posts. The populace has spoken!

Heather - Mahakalas, you say? (Mahakalas, also known as Dharmapalas, are powerful protectors for the spiritual practitioner from all kinds of obstacles. Mahakalas have a strong connection to the Karma Kagyu Tradition, one of the four great schools of Tibetan Buddhism, of which the 17th Karmapa is the guiding force. Mahakalas can tame mental obscurations or aid in overcoming difficulties arising one's life which prevent living a good life. They also are noted for clearing obstacles from the mind-stream.) Hmmm. I'll try to show them respect, feed them tasty treats, and gain their trust. Have you read the novel Lord of Light by Roger Zelazny? It's an interesting futuristic novel with lots of Buddhist, Hindu, and other religious themes. It's well done.

Also by Zelazny is a religious, futuristic short story called 'A Rose for Ecclesiastes'. I don't know if religious sci-fi is your thing, but it's surprisingly good. IMHO, Science Fiction, at its core, is the best genre for examining the human condition and morality - outside of the staid daily perspective.

Kevin - lots of bad dreams, I know. I don't know why. And yes, I'm very lucky to have in Church such a laid-back sheltermate. She has oodles of empathy. I need to learn how she does it.

Litany Webb, signing off

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Happy Sigh!

Days Walking - 31

It's another rest day. Ahhhhh.

Kato - you want to hook me up with virtual dap?
Is that sort of high-tech hair gel?
Your input does not compute, help!

Long relaxed sigh.
I woke up this morning completely at peace. Whatever has been tormenting my spirit is gone, (or back in hiding is more likely).

But there was something odd about this morning. I woke up on my left side, facing the wall of the shelter. I felt warm and safe and protected.

I just rode the glow for a few seconds, and then I realized that Church was spooned softly up against me.

I bit my lip. It was very comfy, but I did not remember inviting her to come over for a sleepover, as it were. I kinda pressed back with my butt (the universal mannerism for 'ok Babe, I'm done spooning now) but she didn't stir.

So I rolled away, into the cold cold snow wall, and turned over. She opened her eyes for a second and then closed them again.

"Hey." She said.

"Hey." I replied. "What was the snuggling thing about?" I asked softly, carefully, scanning my memory for illicit acts. Snogging? Lesbian Sex? No... Nothing... I hadn't had any alcohol last night, so. Yeah.

"Oh that." She murmured, rolling over, away from me. "You were having some freaky nightmare. Remember? You were like, whimpering."

"Oh, right. Yeah. Thanks." I said, and vacated the shelter ASAP.

I don't remember having any freaky nightmares, and I don't remember gettin my cry on, and I don't remember inviting her to cuddle. Not that she claimed I invited her. It's sweet that she did the kind and thoughtful thing, but unsettling that I don't remember it.

Blinking, bleary, frowning.

Should I tell her that for future reference, spooning should be agreed upon in writing? Or just accept the thoughtful gesture for what it was? I mean, it's not like I woke up to find her naked in my sleeping bag with me. In separate bags, and clothed we were. Hmm.

Gotta admit, I DO feel much happier today. I don't know if it was wrestling with (and defeating) my inner demons or blood sugar or hormones or what, but life is good. Grinning.

HaAHa Hee Hee! Lucas still has not come forward with his blog, (give it up, brah!) but he did send me a funny mp3. (For best results, save the file, then play it. If you try to stream it, might sound jerky.) It seems Lucas used a voice synthesizer program, and plugged some of my blog text from a few days ago.

Sounds pretty damn good, considering it's a computer talking. Mebbe Marina can use it to make mp3's for y'all. (The question is, how many people will listen to me ramble in an mp3? One? Maybe two? Who really has the patience? Votes?) But yeah, pretty good quality! I thought they all still sounded like Stephen Hawking.

Yo, Stephen! I loved A Brief History of Time! You are the Alton Brown of Space/Time! But come on my man, upgrade the voice box. It's the 21st century. Hey Lucas, you forgot to tell me which voice synth program you used. And how much it is. And where Marina can buy / download it. Don't be a tease.

Kevin, wow - thanks for opening up the blog. I didn't mean to pry into your private life, I was just being curious. Your precious little one is the cutest munchkin I've seen in a long while! She looks mischievous! She'll be a heartbreaker.

Anneli noticed the clean clean spotless pan I had conjured from its layers of funk, and held it for all to see, like some kind of arcane relic rescued from the Evil Wizards castle. You know, the kind that heal the village and bring prosperity to all the realm. She stuck it under everyone's nose and proclaimed This Is What A Clean Pot Looks Like.

Being something of a hardass on the best of days, Anneli can get away with that sort of thing without seeming like a bitch, as I would. I didn't even prompt her! It made me happy that I didn't have to be a voice of dissent at the next meeting. I really prefer to be my upbeat self.

Thanks for all your advice on how to deal with my frustrations, My Homies!

Litany Webb, signing off

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Repressed Virginal Ice Phobias

Days Walking - 30

Dayum - kids in Alaska are well behaved. There's a very good reason for this. If they misbehave, they are encased in ice and spun thoroughly, as seen here:



I gotta tell ya -
If my Dad had used the Misbehavin Litany Freeze and Spin method, I might not have lost my virginity at 13. (What can I say, I already had breasts by 5th grade. That gets you a lot of attention) But if I'd lived in Alaska, I woulda been a good little girl.

A scared, repressed, bitter, virginal little girl, with Ice Phobias.

No Daddy! No! Not the ice!
I'll be good! I'll be so good!

Check out the rest of the ice carving photos -
At the Anchorage Daily News site.

On the Litany's posts as mp3's front, Dad tried capturing and converting the satellite phone voicemail to an audio file, and it sounds like sh*t, big time. I verified this assertion myself. There's a lot of distortion, there's dropout, the wind in the background creates a washed-out sound, there's static. It's crap. Apparently, Marina even has trouble understanding my voicemail with the static as it is. I'm gonna ask my old friend Greg back in La La Land if he has any ideas. He likes playing with audio files.

In other news, perhaps I should not lament the absence of trees in this area. When we do reach the treeline, I will remember this horrible incident. Yikes. So many ways to go. People just minding their own business, and Pow. It's scary. And the kids, jeez. What a camping experience to come home with. Now they're afraid of ice and trees. I'm spending a lot more of my time on edge, unnerved, unsettled. Mebbe it's like Shell Shock, but with snow. I think I'll call it "Scared To F*cking Death of Dying". I think that sums it up pretty well.

You know, if there's one thing that pisses me off, it's people who don't do their share. Being a communal type group, we rotate chores. I can't help but notice that when I do a chore, it's done correctly. And I'm not talking about my version of correctly. You don't have to do it my way for it to be the right way. Just use common sense, damn. Look ahead, and picture just how long we'll be using this gear, how expensive replacements are, and how funds are f*cking low, ok? Well not low, per se - but definitely finite.

Sometimes it seems like I'm one of the few people thinking ahead, taking my time, actually cleaning something before I put it away, untangling the cords, cables, stays, lines, and straps as designed. Kwame and Caeled are especially bad at this. They just cram whatever the item is back into its pack, pouch, or container willy nilly. There's one mess kit bag that now has bent, unusable buckles. Good grief! It's only Day 30 and this is broken. I unpacked a cook pan this morning that had like two layers of crud cooked practically right into the metal. It took me 45 minutes this evening to clean it correctly. I didn't have time this morning. Damn, people - work with me.

I didn't say anything. Not a word. After my disagreement with Gabe yesterday, I didn't want to fly off the handle again. I don't want to become The Daily Bitch Queen. But I was seething until lunch. I kinda walked off to the side, by myself a bit, to ensure that I didn't scream at someone and end up alienating a few friends. Anneli asked me if I was ok, and I said I was 'working on a story idea.' That tends to grant me some left-alone-time, with no hard feelings. It's a lot better than "leave me the f*ck alone, I'm pissed at most of you right now." Gee, I wonder why.

So anyway, I'll just have to work my equipment tending complaints into the next discussion meeting. It's about time for another one. Usually they don't take place unless someone has a complaint. But I don't wanna be the one to start a bitch session.

Aigghraaaaa!
I'd stomp my foot if it wasn't so stereotypical.
Or maybe hit someone, which isn't.

Litany Webb, signing off

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Give It Up For My Homies!!

Days Walking - 29

Let's dive right into Commenter Queries!

My Man Kato was wondering about Our Animal Friends.
We've seen damn few critters. Spotted some Willow Ptarmigans, (The State Bird of Alaska, btw) but only in flight. And closer to Barrow, we saw a few Arctic Foxes. Have not seen any of the cute lil Foxes for quite a while.

No seals, sorry.

The other day, Church mentioned spotting some swans, but also - only in flight. On their way somewhere more comfy, I hope. There's really nothing here to eat, no shrubs to hide / dwell in, no reason any living creature of sound mind would choose to be here.

I have seen not even one polar bear... I'm torn when it comes to the bears. They are such powerful, compelling creatures. Like big burly doggies. But they are very strong and very hungry, and I am food.

I'd much rather see a polar bear from a boat, at a comfortable distance. I have a fear that a bear will find our camp one day. Maybe discovering an old camp from a week ago, and start tracking us, eating our trash (we only leave biodegradable refuse, fear not) and biding his time. He'll arrive one night while we are sleeping, and tackle one of the shelters (they do this to seal dens - they just dive in, using their body weight), instantly killing the occupants.

He can then eat them at his leisure.

We really should have a night watch, in shifts.
I've suggested it, but I was voted down.

If there are more animals, (has to be more out here than we're spotting...) they must hear us coming and hide out.

Oh. Um, by the way, I found my little plastic doohickies. The ones I thought someone had stolen? Yeah. For some reason, they were in with my mess kit. Unfortunately, I didn't realize this until I actually confronted Gabe about it.

Gabe and I then had something of a tiff, and it seems that I am a whiney bitch, and he's something of a bastard. But I discovered that he had taken my sewing kit - or rather, borrowed it the other night without asking. So it wasn't a total loss. I'd thought I had mispacked it, and have been using Church's.

I feel bad about accusing him. I had gone up to him, planning to just ask nicely. It seems that I was in a bad mood yesterday (and today, according to a couple of people) so I guess that's why the conversation took on an adversarial direction. It's no excuse, I was in the wrong. You don't go accusing people. Especially when you're gonna be spending so much time with them.

Next time something goes missing, I'll be sure to be more passively concerned, and not accusing. It's pretty obvious that 'Stuff' is too important to me right now. Materialism is bad. Even when it is survival equipment. Which the plastic doohickies weren't. It turned into a The Gods Must Be Crazy moment. Ugh.

Robin and Kthrne- we tried to provide for every contingency, but of course we can't. A lot of what might seem like sage planning was convenience. A couple of high quality (expensive!!) med kits from REI will cover a lot of the items that I mentioned the other day.

Also, if a person wants to plan for an outdoor trip these days, all they have to do is type in a few simple search strings into Google, and you can see what a lot of other folks like to take on their expeditions. Like the Romans, we just steal everyone else's bright ideas. So far, so good. Wish I could claim we're geniuses.

Kthrne emailed me super thoughtful music selection suggestions, and I can't wait to check them out! (May Shatner Himself Smile Upon You)

Heather - thanks for all your quality advice!! This girl went so far as to email me with useful info while comments were down. You rock!

Celia - Hi Sweetie! Where is your blog? I clicked on your link, but nothing. Too busy skiing, I suspect! :o) Yes, your divination skills are correct - that was in fact, the Poop Tent (of Stinky Fame) in the pic the other day.

Lucas - What's the deal with posting comments, with no link to your blog, my man? Why you gotta be front'n? Hmn. Post my voicemail posts as mp3's... I'll ask Dad to look into it. Marina's not much for file conversion. Allow me to break it to you right now, Lucas - my voice is in no way sexy. The men who have claimed it was so were mistaken - and are now dead, the bodies hidden.

Kevin, what's with the hidden blog? You make me ever so curious! You post good questions, I'm sure your blog is great. Why not let us in? No pressure, dearie - just curious.

Hmn. It seems that I am forbidden to scrap my short story and start over... :o) Robin, are you offering to be the first victim / test subject? I don't want to unleash crap on an unwilling world. Thanks for the kind words about my writing!! Smiles.

My crack team of commenters are unequaled in all of virtual space!
Hugs for each of you!

Litany Webb, signing off

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