I have been in a whirlwind since my return. I have seen many landscapes in my years, but Alaska....hmmm, Alaska. The last frontier is quite the understatement. I spent a week searching for a home that would suit this recluse...and I found one....no, not the cabin/chalet I had originally had my heart set on. One with windows from floor to ceiling, one surrounded by mountainous views and a forest. A home. There is a scent there unlike any other I have ever smelled...it is subtle, not pungent; a scent that evokes visions of a dense forest in the rain with a cabin nestled in the midst...the wood wet and dank and the tickle of pipe-tobacco wafting about. The scent was intoxicating for me, even in its faintness and I could not breathe deeply enough. Ironically enough, it is the odour of decay from vegetation as the breakup of ice on the inlet, rivers, and lakes occurs. The first few days were quite lovely, sunshine and warmth abounded. Then a foot of snow fell the third day in...but it was beautiful in its own right, for there was little wind. Unlike here with gale-force winds. Of course, it isn't mid-winter anymore and I am certain it can be quite chilly there, but I have weathered cold climes and without the winds, will manage nicely.I did manage a few photos whilst I was on my search...the mountains are quite literally, breathtaking. I ventured to Denali (Mt. McKinley) on the weekend, and was in utter awe over the depth and height of her. Alas, I was not able to shoot an image...clouds were rushing in and obscuring her.In less than a month, I will return to Alaska, my new home...and perhaps for the first time in my life, will be able to settle and acquire some roots.
Battlefields are places of sorrow, no matter the location, and I am drawn to historical fields of battles...Bannockburn, Culloden, The States Civil War, etc...and I had the opportunity this week past to visit the battlefield of the Little Bighorn. It is a windy place, but it was warm - my first sunburn of the season occurred - a landscape some changed from 1876..the Little Bighorn River has altered course, trees either grow or have fallen since that time...progress and cultivation have altered the land. Still...the land remembers...one can hear the whispers of history on the winds, faint and obscure. I did. More than a hundred years has passed since that fateful day...when the battle was over nearly before it had begun. Judgement no longer can be passed; though I am a little more sympathetic to the warriors of the Sioux and Cheyenne nations as they fought to preserve their nomadic way of life and to hold the government to the 1868 Ft. Laramie Treaty. After all, the whites were in these territories illegally, if it boils down to it, the Bloody Bozeman was built in such a manner for the flights to gold. And yet, each soldier and warrior played their parts, defensive...offensive - no more or less. It was an unfortunate end for Custer and the men who fought with him. No less tragic than any other war fought. The battle itself is still surrounded by mystery this day. Custer’s judgement is still being called into check, other officers were blamed and/or vindicated. Erratic temperaments, panic, helplessness...all seemed to have figured into the defeat. All that remains are the small white marble headstones marking the last resting points of the men. Here and there red marble headstones mark the fallen spot of a warrior. Some have been placed erroneously...balanced on hazy memories and subjective assumptions. Some hold true to history. The granite marker on Last Stand Hill holds remains of men and horse alike, having been erected in 1891 when troops still found human and equine remains littering the fields. My attempts of capturing the feeling of the land, the desolation and sorrow of it are thus:This is at the Reno-Benteen Battlefield some 5 miles from Custer’s Battlefield. Whether through miscommunication or through utter fear, Custer and his men perished, even after messages commanding aide from Reno and Benteen were received by the two officers.This is called the Water Carrier Ravine or Coulee...entitled such for the men who braved scrambling to the river for much needed water.Somewhat barricaded by the natural depression and by surrounding pack mules and horses, a makeshift hospital was erected here where the white post sits now:Most of the white markers are of unknown soldiers. Most were buried in a hurried fashion, shallow graves or a few handfuls of dirt were all that was given. If the soldier was recognized, a bullet casing inscribed with his name was embedded into a wooden stake, or a wooden cross was erected. Thomas Meador:Julian Jones:The white markers far outnumber the red...Long Road:Bear With Horns:Then...Last Stand Hill. Custer and his men fought their last fight here. At his widow’s request, Custer was reinterred at West Point. Custer’s marker is emblazoned in black:It was not until the 1990’s that the name of the battlefield was changed from Custer’s Last Stand to the Battle of the Little Bighorn and the plight of the Native Americans was finally recognized. A memorial was erected in their honour...I close with a quote found at the Native American Memorial...a poignant reminder...
This has been a true Winter here in Wyoming. Snows, winds, frigid temperatures, wicked roads, wind-chills that make the mind boggle...all in constant. It has been difficult for me, caged within these walls waiting for the sun to shine once again. The opportunities for photos have been few. Lack of lighting has been one major obstacle - when the sky and horizon blend into one without a break from grey. The winds have been another obstacle to contend with...horrible and nasty winds that pierce the bones regardless of the layers donned. I have spent the time searching for homes in Alaska online...no small fete. The time is nearly on me to make my first visit to the 'last frontier' and purchase a home; the move will occur when school is finished for the summer. I have moved frequently in my life and the thought of doing so once again was a dismal one, but the company will hire a moving company to pack and move us. I cannot wait - the landscapes, the wildlife, the Aurora - all appeal to this reclusive sot.I began to realize last week the sun is now appearing more often than no..and it holds warmth now. Winds are still blustery, but wee hints of Spring now flow in it's currents. There was one day last week when it was chilly, but not overly so, the winds were calmer and the sun was trying to find it's way from behind the clouds. The river has been frozen near solid for the Winter, but I managed to find rapids where the ice could not hold. I have obtained new photo equipment and the opportunity had to be seized. ..These were shot in the beginning of the eve. Clouds were covering the sun for the first images. Then it broke through..softly glinting the crests in gold as seen here:There were a few areas where the ice was nearly clear with air forming surreal landscapes underneath.I live life fully, finding happiness in the simplest of measure.
