#884

It's not divisible by three but it's still a good number and one that Scott wore on Saturday morning when he came in first place for his first Juneau race – “Racing the Tide” Springtime Scramble. Organized by the Southeast Roadrunners, this is an annual race that is meant for (in my non-runner mind) crazy people, people who want to immerse themselves into waist-high freezing cold water as they run across the tidal flats from North Douglas to the Juneau Airport and back. And that’s the easy part. The more challenging part is scrambling up Fish Creek Trail when it’s covered in snow so the trail isn’t actually visible but it’s still booby-trapped with devils club and tree roots that stick out in such angles perfect for tripping and all manners of natural obstacles that make the trail hard to just walk on. In typical Alaska fashion, for a ‘springtime’ race, mother nature decided to descend snow mixed with rain (or as Scott calls it “snain”) instead of sunshine.

I went out on the flats with Anthony, whose wife Lori was also running the race, and their two kids Eli and Serena to see who would be leading the race on the home stretch to the airport before running back across the flats to the finish line. Anthony had an inkling it would be Scott. I was hoping it’d be Scott, but not knowing the running scene in Juneau at all, I really didn’t know. Around fifteen minutes passed before we saw the first runner sliding down the hill from the road to the flats and running towards us. It took us a minute or so to be certain but, indeed, the person running towards us was Scott. Two other runners followed but Scott seemed to have a pretty good lead. Anthony, Eli, Serena, and I jumped in the car and rode to the finish line to meet Scott there.

These aren't pretty photos as Anthony took them during the actual race, and most people aren't at their most attractive while running a race, especially one like this one. Above: Crossing the finish line. Below: Running the flats.

Here is a Juneau Empire blurb on the race. The Empire mistakens Scott for being a decade older than he really is. http://juneauempire.com/sports/2013-04-28/racing-tide-spring-tide-scramble

April (Snow) Showers

They're playing the song "White Christmas" on the radio. I love it. Christmas songs in spring.

We went to bed last night listening to the hard rain and woke up this morning to silence. Without even looking outside, I knew it was snowing, and indeed it was, and still is.

      ... where the tree tops glisten...

The view outside our front door

When to Say No to a Mini Hotdog



My new name tag

I’ve had many jobs. I probably couldn’t name all of them without thinking really hard, but here is a sample – indoor games specialist, commercial fishing deckhand, pizza delivery order taker, production assistant, visiting tutor, jewelry story assistant, along with a couple jobs that I don’t even know the titles of. Soon I’ll be adding Naturalist to the list.

Besides the normal routine of applying, interviewing, getting the offer, and accepting the job, I’ve had to do a few things in preparation that I’ve never done before.

I had to take an online test to get my Alaska State Food Workers Card. I did this early last week when my job with Gavel to Gavel had ended and I was figuring out what was next. Most jobs that I’ve done haven’t included a lot of pre-work, but for being a Naturalist on board a whale watching boat, the list seems endless. I decided getting a Food Workers Card was of upmost importance compared to the other things, one of which is actually studying and learning about wildlife and habitat and flora and local landmarks.

I would rank getting an Alaska State Food Workers Card as one of the easiest things I’ve ever done that included taking a test. I watched about 30 minutes worth of videos about washing your hands, washing your hands, washing your hand, and washing your hands. Actually there were a few other tidbits of knowledge thrown in, like safe temperatures to keep food at, which I’ve been thinking about a lot.

After living in developing countries and eating meat that I knew had been hanging outside for hours in hot weather with flies all around, I’m pretty immune to the concept of what’s considered “safe” or “unsafe” to eat. (I could name a dozen more examples of sketchy eating situations that I’ve come to not think twice about). Plus, I think about all the times I’ve incorrectly defrosted, according to these state videos, or left food out in the “danger zone” for over four hours, and how I’ve always been fine. The only time I was adamant about not eating something because it had gone bad was a very severe and obvious case. Scott and I were on one of our breaks during teaching in Tanzania and we were doing a lot of camping and traveling by bus. To make things more affordable we’d oftentimes buy groceries at shops and carry them with us. At this point in our time abroad, we thought buying mini hotdogs was a good idea. We figured they were processed enough to last a couple days without refrigeration and while they tasted better cooked or grilled, we could, if needed, eat them straight from the package. On a particularly long bus ride, perhaps a 12-hour one, Scott felt hungry and started rummaging through his backpack to see what he could find. He pulled out an opened bag of mini hotdogs. I knew these hotdogs were on day three of being opened and had just been festering at the bottom of Scott’s bag. Not only did I turn them down when Scott offered them to me, I warned Scott to not eat them either. Do you think Scott listened to me? No. He ate not one, not two, but three mini hotdogs. All I have to say is that by the time the bus stopped at a roadside restaurant for lunch, I was happily eating some freshly cooked meat and rice while Scott was throwing up.  

While I can acknowledge that information about safe food temperatures is good to know, I’m not going to change my eating or cooking habits after watching these state videos on food safety – I know what my limits are and they’ve served me well.

After each video segment on washing hands and other pertinent information related to food on the job, I’d take a practice test. After all the videos and practice tests, it was time to take the real test. I got a perfect score on the first try, which was a huge relief since the last time I had to take a state test, it took me three times to actually pass. Compared to the DMV, the DEC makes getting a card simple and stress-free. Once I passed the test (with flying colors), I paid the state $10, and now all I have to do is wait for the card to arrive in the mail. Just like that, I can officially work with food in Alaska and be trusted.

Something else I had to do before becoming a Naturalist is a little thing called a urinalysis drug test, which is commonly referred to as peeing into a cup. I’m sure many people have done this before – not just peed into a cup, but then had it tested for drugs; I haven’t. I didn’t realize how particular the process would have to be but, of course, in hindsight, it makes sense. We’re dealing with drugs, so attention to detail is of upmost importance.

After my name (Ms. Phu) was called, I walked through the door into the part of the office where all the magic happens. I had to take off my coat and put my bag down. At the sink, I was instructed to wash my hands with water but not to use soap. If I wanted to, I could dry my hands. Every move I made was being watched by this woman who was likely around my age and spoke very clearly and without any judgment. She made sure that I saw every move she made as well, like when she opened the package that the cup was in, when she took the cup out, and when she undid the lid. I was then instructed to go into the bathroom, pee into the cup up to the line (although above the line is better), and – this is the most important thing – DO NOT FLUSH THE TOILET. If I flushed the toilet, I’d have to go back to the waiting room and start the whole process a l l  o v e r  a g a i n. “It’s not fun,” the woman warned. I went into the bathroom and closed the door behind me. There were signs on the walls with big letters that read DO NOT FLUSH and the flush handle had tape over it to remind you what you weren’t supposed to do. I had no trouble filling the cup way above the line; I had been holding it for some time. I have to admit, in positioning the cup just so, I definitely got pee on my hand. When I was finished and the woman said I could wash my hands again, thank God she said I could use soap.

The first thing the woman did when I was done peeing into the cup (it’s impossible to not think about apple juice, right?) was check the temperature sticker on the cup. I passed that section. She then had to pour the urine into two plastic test tube-y looking containers. Again, she made sure I watched her every move – when she undid the lids of both tubes, when she poured the urine from the cup, and when she placed the lids back onto the tubes. She then poured the remaining urine into the toilet and flushed, as if it was the most normal thing to do in the world.

What came after was a quick series of stickering and initialing and signatures. My bladder was empty, my hands were clean, and I was confident the labs would find my urine free of cocaine, marijuana, amphetamines, PCP, codeine, morphine, heroin, and some other drug that’s way too long to type – okay, fine, I’ll type it – methylenedioxymethamphetamine. What is that?  And what form does it come in? I realize that after being out of the country for three years, I missed some things, like the fact that bath salts are now a drug. Regardless of what the hippest drug is these days, I will not be partaking in any of them since my new employer, Allen Marine, will be conducting random drug tests throughout the season.

So now, two things down, many more to go before work starts on Monday, like buying new pants for the job, taking a First Aid/CPR course, and… studying. If you were to pick a hundred random people in Southeast Alaska and ask them questions about local wildlife and trees and geography, I would likely rank at the very bottom for knowing the least. I may exaggerate sometimes, but I’m not now. I have a lot of studying to do.

A Sunday Paddle

After an attempt up Mt. Juneau, Scott and I drove way out the road (almost to the end) to Sunshine Cove and met up with a few friends. Jenny had brought two paddle boards with her and Scott took one for a spin. It was his first time.

Last Night on the Flats

The End of the Road

A glass-like Lynn Canal.

Because I was so busy the first two weeks of April, I managed to miss noting spring’s arrival to Juneau. While I love the warmer temperatures, the disappearing snow, and the appearance of so many beautiful creatures, I do hate one thing that spring welcomes – mosquitos.

These first mosquitos to show themselves in Juneau are giant and slow. They hover in the air and are easy to avoid, except if you’re sleeping. Work had officially ended and I spent some of this past Monday outside on the deck socking in the warm sun. Unfortunately, I fell asleep, and one of these lumbering mosquitoes found its way to my lip.

*

A couple weekends ago, on a bright Sunday, Scott and I drove out the road in Juneau as far as one possibly can. Neither of us like to waste gas, but there’s something amazing about driving to the end of a road, not turning around until one must. In Juneau, that translates into more than 40 miles of road, the last section of which is extremely pot-holed. We weren’t the only ones doing it. We passed several cars and followed one that had the exact same idea. When it’s sunny out people love the sheer notion of driving, driving for driving’s sake.

But getting to the end of the road wasn’t our only goal for the day. After we turned around, we stopped at the trail head for Point Bridget State Park. As I’ve tried to chronicle in this blog, Scott and I have been exploring various trails and spots in Juneau. Maybe it’s because Juneau is still very new and seemingly so much bigger than Wrangell, but each destination feels totally unique and different than the others – and it hardly feels like we’re even in Juneau. When we were walking along the trail to Point Bridget, or sitting on a rock overlooking the ocean, or later in the day at Eagle Beach, the town of Juneau seemed like such a distant thought, a faraway place, a very separate world from where we were at the time. It gives one the sense of traveling a great distance, of taking a trip, of escaping. That’s what it is(!) – the sense that one can escape on any given day only to return.

I won’t go into how beautiful and calm it was that day at Point Bridget, even though it was (Scott said he’d never seen Lynn Canal so glass-like and still). Or how warm the sun felt as we sat on the rock – the temperature seeming to exceed 70 making my layers silly and unwanted – looking across the water at a chain of snow-peaked mountains. Or how wondrous it felt to see those swans perched upon and eating from a mostly-frozen pond, another couple having already staked out the best look-out spot from which to observe (we saw more swans later at Eagle Beach). Or how perfectly textured Eagle Beach was, the undulating sandy ground. And the reason I won’t go into those things is because I will never be able to capture those moments or feelings or vistas in my own words. For describing nature, words have always failed me. It’s like I don’t speak that language.

Instead, here are some photos:

Our lunch spot at Point Bridget

Devil's club. Can you imagine taking a clumsy step and grabbing hold of one of these for balance?

A view of Herbert Glacier from Eagle Beach.

 

What I can write about is how I didn’t want this day out the road to end. The sense of freedom and escape combined with the warm ocean air and light, playful conversation made every element seem just right. It was the perfect spring day.

Day 90, around 8:42 pm: Thoughts from the Alaska Capitol Press Room (or IMO - I Missed Out)

There’s about three and a half hours left of the Alaska State Legislature's 90-day normal session. It’s Sunday. I’m stuck at the Capitol waiting for the Senate to start their floor session, waiting to relieve my fellow crew members, waiting for this all to be over. I got about three hours of sleep last night and I’ve been here for over 12 hours so I’m not really with it totally or barely at all.

A long time Capitol reporter, says, “This is fun,” as he fishes for a Diet Pepsi out of the small press room fridge. He’s wearing a light brown suit and a tie that bears big prints of Benjamin Franklin’s one-hundred-dollar bill face. I kind of part-laugh, part-scoff at this comment, and he replies, “I’m serious. All these tiny chess games going on.” The House floor session happening right now has been taking long at-eases (breaks). I know they’ve received the current version of the Capital Budget, SB18, the last big legislation that’s left to complete in these final hours. So I ask this reporter, “What chess game is going on right now? Why all the long at-eases?” He kind of turns his head gesturing behind him. “I can’t say. My competition is around.” Again, I kind of laugh, kind of scoff. Again, he says, “I’m serious.”

I can’t write about tonight and not mention that Scott, Amber, Cindy, Stephen, along with several Juneau friends are hanging out at a beach in North Douglas sitting around a bon fire, watching orcas and the setting sun (which, by now, has already set), eating grilled brats and just having a wonderful old time. Without me. That last (not complete) sentence was written with sadness, not anger.

Amber sent this photo via text of Scott holding a beer and sitting in front of the fire. This did not make me feel jealous. That's a lie. It did.

At one point during this beautiful April evening on a beach in North Douglas, Scott said there must have been about a dozen people there. Sounds like fun.

While my friends were doing that, I was doing this:
Behind the camera during the final Senate Floor. They adjourned around 11:30 pm and won't have another floor meeting until January 2014.

My Life Lately

Signs posted outside the House Finance committee room.

It's the final few days of the Alaska Legislature's normal session, which means there's a lot of the above. Waiting. For example, Darryl and I were scheduled to cover an 8 am House Finance meeting this morning, but it was delayed until 9:30 am. But I'm the last one that should complain. My five fellow crew members have been kind to let me get off early this week so I can spend time with visiting friends from Wrangell and enjoy the Alaska Folk Festival. I got to leave the Capitol last night at 7:30 pm (after 11 hours of working) while other Gavel to Gavel staff were working until 1:30 am when the House Floor finally adjourned. The House Finance committtee reconvened after the Floor session and didn't end their meeting until 2:30 am.

Important decisions, billion-dollar decisions (and that's not an exaggeration), that affect the entire state are being made in the wee hours of the morning by legislators who feel pressure to fit as much as they can into a 90-day session.

My emotions have been a rollercoaster the past week and a half knowing that this would end soon, 'this' being my peek into Alaska politics, my up-close look into how bills live and die, my infatuation with certain legislators and my utter disenchantment with others. The Alaska Capitol is a unique world, as I'm sure all state capitols are. And I've only done this for one year. Imagine those who've worked in this building for decades, how sucked in they must feel. I've been telling myself that life within the Capitol - the plush seats in the committee rooms, the ever spotless carpeted floors, the constant availlability of hot beverages (I won't even go into its occupants) - is not real life. It's just that the actions that take place here determine how we live our real lives.