Chugging Along

Somehow, I’ve already been living in Alaska for over a month. I’ve been out on 9 runs with the train. Each brought unique challenges and surprises, but patterns have certainly started to emerge.

My last day off (before today) was Thursday. Much of that day was devoted to such grown-up activities as paying rent and utility bills for my house. I had to open a new bank account out here because Bank of America only has one ATM in the whole state of Alaska (located at the 5th Ave. Anchorage Mall), so now my money is stashed in 3 places instead of 1 (not to mention the little stashes of cash I tend to keep in my room, in case of emergencies, a need for bail money, or a particularly rainy day when I decide to buy a ticket elsewhere). So far I’m managing to keep good track of it all, mostly by never spending anything on anything if I can help it.

Some of you, familiar with my antipathy toward cooking and preparing food for myself may be wondering how I’m getting along in the self-feeding department. To be honest, it’s been less of a burden than I anticipated. Lunch and snacks are provided on the train when we head north-bound, as are breakfast and lunch south-bound. When we stay over in Healy, we also get dinner at the employee lodging there. The food is pretty bad, but it’s free and warm and probably has some protein, and it’s food and that’s sufficient for me. They also usually have fruit, which is a luxury I’ve come to appreciate immensely here. I’ve always liked fruit, but I took it for granted as a kid and in college. Now that I have to buy my own groceries in Alaska, I’ve turned into something of a fruit smuggler. Most food is really expensive here, because we’re at least 1500 miles from civilization (unless you count Canada ;) and much further from most sunny warm places where fruit is grown, so by the time it gets here it is both over-priced and less than inspiringly fresh. Thus, I purchase it sparingly. But I usually take at least 2 apples when they show up on the train, eat whatever orange slices are left in my garnish tray at the end of a run, and adopt a couple of apples and oranges every time I’m at the Healy Homestead, to parcel out to myself over the next day or two.

My roommates, Zack and Blair, also sometimes cook dinner and share it with me. And when I overnight with the train crew in Fairbanks, we are bussed to Fred Meyer (the local grocery superstore) where we generally buy microwavable sustenance for the night. My purchases on those excursions thus far have included: an apple with a jar of peanut butter and a pre-made tuna sandwich (which was disgusting and inedible, not a mistake I have repeated) three boxes of granola bars, a bag of grapes, a frozen burrito, a frozen Indian dish, a box of Easy Mac packets (not sufficiently thought through- those require microwavable bowls, which the BVI does not supply, so I improvised and used the flimsy ice bucket I found in my room and supervised to ensure it wouldn’t melt). As you can see, far from a glamorous or especially nutritious collection of food, but so far I have been too lazy to plan ahead and cook something to bring on the train and microwave when I get there. I am also usually too tired to do much on the nights when I return from a run to my house in Anchorage, and my supplies are limited. I’ve eaten some beans, some bean and rice mixtures, a couple of tuna sandwiches I made myself (all of which validated my decision to shell out 8 bucks for a real can opener, rather than continuing to struggle with Blair’s gadget-knife). On one of my recent days off, I actually went so far as cutting up some vegetables and adding them and a few spices to the pasta and tomato sauce I was cooking. And I made one delicious egg scramble with tuna, feta, onion and salsa in it. But that’s about as ambitious as my culinary projects have gotten. As long as survival, basic nutrition, lack of effort and frugality remain my primary kitchen concerns, this approach will have to do.

I have now been here long enough that some existential questions have begun to nag at me. I know that I will be here until the end of September. During that time, I hope to earn a lot of money, though I don’t think I’ll walk away with nearly what I imagined before I started. I also hope to see a healthy bit more of Alaska, and take advantage of some of the unique and magical properties of this place. These two goals are somewhat in conflict with one another, but I expect some kind of balance can be struck. Additionally, I would like to develop a few more friendships with my co-workers out here, if for nothing else at least to have company and assistance in seeking Epic Alaskan Adventures (since my resources and knowledge of the area and what to prioritize are severely lacking, and hiking/camping/climbing and other excursions are usually more fun when not undertaken solo.) I enjoy and am comfortable in my own company, but it’s something I prefer in moderate doses.

I’ve made some progress in the friend-making department. It’s been slow because, in addition to the fact that my standards are high and it takes some time for me to declare myself “friends” with someone new, our schedules are erratic, unpredictable and intense, so I’ve had to do a fair bit of starting fresh, rather than working with the same people multiple days or weeks in a row. Also, much of the social scene among train folks involves drinking at bars, either in Anchorage, Fairbanks or Healy, and this is something I prefer to avoid because it is an enormous and totally optional fund-sap and the effects of alcohol on my body have proven 9 times out of 10 to be more negative than positive. I still maintain, when the mood strikes, that “I’m a pirate and can drink as much as is necessary!” So I am as ever, quite susceptible to challenges. But happy to abstain for now.

In the past few days, both in and out of bars, and during down-time on the train, I’ve had some good conversations and card games and other social activities with a few of my co-workers. So seeds of friendship have been planted, anyway. Now it’s just a matter of taking advantage of when our schedules do overlap to continue getting to know each other and hopefully going out into the wild some more. I’ve barely seen the Portland/Wasilla girls. I’m considering asking the scheduling lady to try to coordinate our runs more often if she can. In the meantime, I’ll do what I can, and sleep when my body demands sleep instead of going out, and try to enjoy my solitary down-time. It’s not as though I’m starved for human contact; I endure an abundance of it every day I work on the train. The difference is that spending time acting friendly and cheerful to strangers is rather draining, while having friends is restorative and beneficial to the soul, and essential to my happiness.

I have met some wonderful, kind and engaging passengers. Usually there are a couple in each group that want to have a real conversation with me. I always enjoy that, and find something to learn. I met a lovely couple from Kentucky (hello, if you’re reading this!) who were passionate about scuba diving, which recalled my latent desire for learning that world and those skills. A possible job for some time in the next few meandering years—working as a divemaster on a sailboat somewhere warm and tropical. Sounds ideal! Yesterday I met a man from Hawaii, which reminded me that that would be a pretty sweet place to live. And I’ve had a few good chats with Australians (although in general they are unpopular on the train because they are not accustomed to tipping), and they’ve recommended some good backpacking destinations in their part of the world.

I have yet to settle on a next destination or employment goals for the near or more distant future. I have many ideas, and I still have some time to consider.

Pictures will be forthcoming soon, I promise. Technology and I don't seem to have lots of patience for each other. But I'll get to it.

I'm launching into another six days in a row of work, but I'm slightly more prepared for it this time. I hope.