Day 22, 23: Rain Delay

As appears the case with a lot of places in the Abnormal State, the farm that is now NOLS Alaska exists because of somebody else’s crackpot idea.  It’s a long and twisted tale, one involving 230 Scandinavian-American farming families and the New Deal’s FERA (Federal Emergency Relief Fund -- see “America’s Great Depression”). 

I’d really like to recount the story here, because of all the Depression talk and the part about the 230 Scandinavian families, but in the interest of possibly going salmon fishing I’ll say the 1935 Matanuska Colony Experiment wasn’t all the subjects had hoped it would be; that the Colony family who built the barns and the house I’m writing in now (which used to be farther still from anything but a lot more wolves and grizzly bears) doesn’t live here anymore.

Who does live here is the NOLS Alaska staff.  They’re an eclectic bunch, not of recent Scandinavian descent but from California, Florida, Illinois, New Jersey, Virginia, Wyoming, Chile…  They’ve welcomed us here warmly, and as quilts of rain continue to blanket the state, it’s been nice to feel warm and welcome.

Justin Thompson (issue room) is a friend from Lander, and he and his girlfriend, Renee Glynn (kitchen), have taken me into Palmer and told me of their own NOLS course adventures – Justin kayaking in Baja, Renee “self-arresting” in a crevasse – while back at the farm everyone from maintenance to management has been incredibly hospitable and supportive.

We’ve been well fed by the kitchen (Lissen Low, Mikey Kapmann, Alex Ribbentrop, Renee); well supplied by the gardens (Nic Koontz); and entirely wrapped in rubber – in Goretex pants and raincoats, besides the rubber boots – by the issue room (Chris Anderson and Justin).

Nobody sleeps in the Staff House, since on-campus staff officially live in cabins and wall tents, but when someone isn’t working he’s often doing something in here.  Making breakfast, watching a movie, checking e-mail:  There’s a big table in the den where I like to spend a lot of time looking out the window and checking weather pages, and whenever someone comes through the house he’s got a kind word of encouragement.

“Looking better!” he’ll say, or, “It’s bound to clear up soon!”

Regardless, I’m going fishing.