Finally to the Interior

I’m not sure exactly what to say about the ferry ride to Haines, it was a boat trip. It was a big boat, but even the biggest isn’t the same as our normal perceptions of space. We normally operate over a much wider area than we think about and its not until you’re in a confined space that you realize just how much area we’re used to occupying.

It was pleasant, the crew seemed efficient, & the cabin was small for the four of us: myself, Forrest, Donnie & his daughter Kristi. I spent much time in the lounge areas or on deck, either reading or watching the mountains go by. I’ve never been to Scandinavia, but I imagine the fiords are much like the inner passage, deep water surrounded by forested vertical peaks. Not that the peaks immediately around the water are all that tall, but they are backed up by taller snow topped mountains, sometimes with glaciers inching down them and waterfalls from the melt run-off. Everyone saw a least one whale, I think I saw a sea-otter and a seal too, and eagles. The further north we traveled, the longer the daylight & time has become distorted, it never did get dark last “night”.

The ship had selective WIFI connectivity, at its discretion, not ours; and when we were at or around a city some had cell phone connectivity, but not me.

What the isolation did for me was to make me wonder just why I prefer to pour iron. Why was I spending this much time, effort, and money to go to an end of the earth to pour iron? I’ve been on “why iron” panels at conferences, but I’ve never felt that I succinctly stated its allure. Physically its heavy, at pouring temperatures its dangerously hot, it has more intrinsic energy, when spilled it “bounces”, and at the proper temperature it runs into thin sections better than any other metal. It’s a common metal, most of the earth’s surface contains at least some iron, so its fitting for the proletariat in me that works hard at difficult tasks for not much reward. It’s a very “moral” metal, almost Puritanical in its difficultly and demand, but more positive in its feedback in the form of an object than any religion can promise. And at its most basic, its beautiful; regardless of what stage of the object making process you look at it. Fresh from the mold its black and gritty, cleaned and blasted its pristine yet soft appearing, and once it begins the patina process of corrosion it reveals nuances of color. There’s a reason why iron is the most versatile glaze colorant for potters, it runs the gamut from reds, oranges, and yellows to the celadon blues or greens to browns, a “temoku purple” and deep and mysterious black. Truly phenomenal and it lasts. We stopped at a museum with objects from the “gold rush” days and there were objects that, while not in their original usable condition, gave mute testimony to some long forgotten person’s efforts.

So I gazed at my navel when I wasn’t looking at scenery.

Now we’re in Fairbanks, Alaska having survived the potential wrath of Canadian customs officials. We didn’t have any problem, but there was this one young lady who had everything pulled out of her station wagon, had it trampled by a slobbery dog, and if there was anything illegal or embarrassing in her possessions, it surely was exposed. We never did see her after we left customs and we drove slowly because the road is good, but not that good.

The scenery through Canada was alternately spectacular and boring. You may never see anything as wondrous as a tree, but after the first couple of million your vision does get more selective. Usually it was the space between things that was most interesting. Some of the mountains were impressive, but the valleys were more comprehendible as beauty.

The major impediment to enjoyment was the weather. It was cold and rainy most of the trip, it still is as I type this. Hopefully we will get at least dryer conditions when we get to Wiseman.

And this is probably a good time to introduce our “shadow group” from Texas. All along the trail we have been in caravan with Joe & Barbra Hetricks and their grand-daughter Mandy. They have relatives in the Palmer, AK area and have known Donnie for some years now. They had the time and inclination, and have been faithful and uncomplaining companions to our lunacy.

Another welcome addition will be D’Jean Jawrunner. I was so pleased when I read Pat’s post saying that she had arrived. It was at her place in Tucumcari, NM that the conversation started that set us off in this endeavor. She certainly deserves a place at the madness.

And the link is current at IRONPOUR.COM, thank you Michael.

If dryer lint is a “feminist material”, what is belly-button lint?

Butch