Post the Last

Well, dear readers, I have just arrived in Anchorage after the longest drive between the cabin and home I have ever experienced, clocking in at 8 hours. I spent the early day frantically trying not to forget any of the 3,000 things required to properly shut up the property, and I am sure I forgot at least 1,500 of them, but hopefully nothing so egregious that my parents show up and find a smoldering pile of moldy straw in a couple weeks.

Skylar was sad to see me go, but honestly, he doesn't look good. We had a really awkward goodbye, but I did make sure not to let Sancho pee on him.

I got the truck all kitted out to sustain anything that nature could possibly throw at it. I was ready for the most slippery of roads, the deepest ice wells, and the sharpest tiger traps. Observe the impressive beast ready for battle.

I got out on the road, and there were a couple spots that tried to test my metal mammoth.

In the end though, the road was much tamer than I thought it would be. An inch of snow fell and provided plenty of traction. It took me about an hour of cruising along at 15 miles an hour with the chains on before I realized I needed to change my game plan if I was going to make it home before I caught a bad case of death by old age. So I took the chains off and cruised into Chitina (35 miles from the cabin) about 2 hours after I left. I thought things would be peachy from then on out.

By the time I hit Glenallen it was completely dark and snowing profusely. Driving down the highway was like crossing the galaxy with Han Solo after Chewy kicks in the hyperdrive, and all the stars turn to lines and start zooming past. This is a great effect to observe for a second or two on television, but let me tell you it is the most mindfucky thing in the world if you trying to look out for moose in it for hours. I went pretty much the whole 300 miles at about 45 miles an hour. I had to stop three times to make sure Sancho got all the peeing he needed done. I was really worried he was going to start pooping everywhere because I gave him some bacon this morning, but he did very well and now he is playing his face off in the backyard with two of his doggy chums.

I think the time has come to declare the winner of the Memorial Anthony of Egypt National Most Hermitly Award. It has been a race to the finish as Germany, Denmark, and Ecuador appeared out of nowhere. South Africa has been coming on strong. The winner is........ (Bum badda bum bum BUM)

NEW ZEALAND!!!!

 

with Uganda coming in second and South Africa a very close third. Congratulations New Zealand! Since I now know that it was Xavier operating undercover in the Southern Hemisphere, the final addition to the prize vat is a bottle of Crown and a jug of apple juice. I am so proud of all the nations that showed their true hermity stripes.

Well, folks, its been a blast. Thanks for reading! I got 2000 hits over the course of the month, which I think shows some dedicated readership. All the comments especially I read with the greatest appreciation and contentment. I'll be seeing you....

The Atoms Start Flying Apart!

Well, dear readers, I have decided that the world is falling apart. Whatever it is that holds the cosmos together in its loose alliance has abandoned us, and the world is now coming to a close. The Apocalyptic wind that shipwrecked poor Tim has for the most part abated, but the temperature remains above freezing. My sister always tells the tale of driving the McCarthy road when she was sixteen, fresh out of sophomore year, (maybe junior year, who knows? I was probably still in junior high and seriously considering the social ramifications of wearing sweat pants instead of jeans, so I didn't have time to remember) on the hunt for a car of her own. The winning candidate was the 1990 blue and rust colored F150 that was sitting at the cabin and had to be returned to Anchorage. The way she tells it, the road was made out of Teflon, and horrible gargoyles were holding it up at a 45 degree angle so that she would slide off one side into the mouth of a tremendous Leviathan named Walter, who would devour both Stump and her unshiny F150 without remorse.

I always thought she was nuts, but now I understand. I am about to face the same sort of conditions on the morrow, when I sally forth into the unknown in hopes of reaching civilization, grocery stores, and ultimately, an airport. Grass is showing in the fields, the road looks like a speed skating rink, and Skylar has withered into the most horrifically decrepit thing you could possibly imagine. I have to get out of here, dear readers, before I am devoured whole!

I got to feeling nostalgic today, it being my last full day of hermitage and all. I went for a walk (and I do mean walk. No snowshoes, no skis, no snow, no worries. This place looks like the colony in Aliens after Sigourney Weaver torches the whole thing with a flame thrower, and then the whole shebang goes up in a nuclear explosion) with Sancho, and it really was pretty nice. I ended up walking around in a T shirt and watching the sunset, which I have to say is pretty damn strange for Alaska in February. The rest of my day has been consumed by repeat usages of the dishwasher and washing machine. I have to eliminate all evidence that I let Sancho sleep on the bed. Golly, I hope my parents don't find out (wink, wink). By the way, parents, if Sancho does jump on the bed, don't be too harsh. I was the enabler. Here is a series of photos about depicting the world falling to pieces.

I call this one "Reflections of Sancho"

I call this one "Hopes of Sancho"

This one is "Windward Spring, or Septic System Summertime"

This one is called "T-Shirt Sunset"

And this last one is "Holy Crap That Road Looks Slippery But the Surroundings Look Quite Nice"

New Zealand looks poised to claim victory in the Memorial Anthony of Egypt National Most Hermitly Award. Who could possibly challenge them?

ARRRRGH THE WIND! WHY MUST IT HAUNT ME SO?

Well, the weather decided to go absolutely batshit insane again. The Wicked Wind of the East returned in full force, raising the temperature to 42 degrees. It is blowing harder than any wind I have ever experienced out here. It has knocked everything down that used to be standing and moved everything that isn't tied down with steel cables to some other place. The windmill has been so loud all day that it sounds like an 18 wheeler A HALF MILE DOWN THE ROAD. How do I know that the windmill is that audible a half mile down the road? I will tell you later. Skylar is in absolutely terrible condition, and I am worried that he just might fall apart. His weight is way down and he generally has a really unhealthy, pockmarked aspect to him that is a cause for concern. If you need any further confirmation about how hard the wind is blowing, then observe this bird nest.

"Oh, wow, Hermit, did you have to climb a tree for that nest?" NO! I did not have to climb a tree! Know why? The nest got blown out of the tree! It was just resting in the middle of the god damn road! At least it didn't rain. OH WAIT. There was torrential downpours last night. When I woke up this morning I was pretty sure the house was cruising across the Pacific on moderately heavy seas in search of giant squid or something, because the windows were covered in spray. I couldn't even see outside most of the ground floor.

I was resigned to waste my day. Have the heavens ever granted a greater excuse for sloth that when they choose to rain on top of snow? There is absolutely NO reason to go outside. So I didn't. I decided I was going to turn in a sub par blog entry without any pictures, drink Irish whiskey until I couldn't hear the windmill thrumming away inside my mind, maybe watch a Jackie Chan movie, and pack it in. But then, dear readers, there was a knock on the door.

I just about flipped my shit. I was tempted to sprint to the bedroom and grab the 50 cal before I answered the door, but I didn't and you know why not? It wasn't because I wasn't convinced the person on the other side was going to kill me, but because I wanted to answer the door in a timely fashion. I am so conditioned to answer the door promptly I will throw all personal personal safety to the wind. I would let Ted Bundy in before getting the gun so he wouldn't have to wait. Ahhh, the things this hermitage has taught me.

So instead of grabbing some weapons I called out "Who is it?" and a voice replied "Tim Nelson". I thought, oh, great, Tim Nelson, and opened the door. He was already inside before I realized that I have no idea who Tim Nelson is. Good thing that Tim Nelson is a really nice guy, one of my neighbors (about 25 miles away) and that his car was stuck a half mile down the road, where he had been hearing an 18 wheeler despite the fact he knew there was no such thing on the McCarthy road (it was the windmill). So we went to rescue Tim's car. The road, it turns out, is like an ice rink with a swimming pool on top of it. Driving on it was like trying to drive on a submerged iceberg. So we put on the chains, and then we had to go through the whole rigamarole of attaching the winch (see Wenchy Winches if you are interested in a more detailed description of this onerous task), and pulling out Tim's car. It worked, eventually, but the problem was the road was tilted and so slippery that every time I pulled him out, his car would just slide right back off the road while at a standstill. Physics teachers could use the road today to demonstrate a perfectly frictionless surface. I saw Sancho fall down while standing still. I recognize that he is a clumsy dog, but usually he can stand up without falling on his face. Not today. No sirree. I swear to god a kitchen table would lose its legs if you tried to put it on that road. I am starting to wonder if I will make it out of this hermitage, or if I will be forever doomed to falling on my face over and over again on a frictionless surface until the end of time. Tim got turned around and headed to the neighbors to spend the night, having decided that he wasn't going to make it home. I didn't bring a camera along to document the action, so I only have this picture of my hand to prove that Tim does in fact exist, and that tire chains are dirty.

Status quo on the MAoENMHA, although Australia is all of a sudden looking like it wants to play the game. Is it too late? Only time will tell.