Castle Mtn

[suvalley]

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Note from the moderator - this is a wonderful start to a story, and the writer is very skillful, however it is not finished and the writer has not logged in since Sept 2011
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(So named because I can't think of anything better)

Foreword


The Matanuska Valley proper sits basically between the Matanuska and Susitna Rivers, bounded on the south by the Palmer Hay Flats and the Knik Arm portion of Cook Inlet, and elsewhere by mountains-notably the Chugach Range where Pioneer Peak anchors the view, and by the Talkeetna Mountains which extend from the east to fall away into the Susitna Valley. Further to the west is Sleeping Lady Mountain (Mt. Susitna), whose alpenglow tinted profile is so photographed and beloved. It’s an expansive area, and runs from the coal mines in the Sutton area westward past Palmer’s farm lands, and on westward just north of the commercial core of Wasilla and beyond the former Point MacKenzie Agricultural project to end at the banks of the Little Susitna River there-or the Susitna River itself if you are quibbling with boundaries. In between are creeks, numerous swamps, and hundreds of lakes and ponds. A growing network of subdivisions, roads, arterials, and the two highways thread it all together-with a great deal of nothing in between. Nothing being the places you can’t drive through or to-yet.

Anyone who has been here even a short time, has heard about the Great Alaska Earthquake of 1964. Largest earthquake ever recorded in North America, it caused widespread damage in Anchorage proper and other communities as well. There is even Earthquake Park in Anchorage, and an award winning documentary about the quake is aired on the anniversary date each year. Everyone knows about the big fault system under Alaska’s largest city, and most know about the Denali Fault up north-but hardly any person knows about the biggest threat to Southcentral Alaska-The Castle Mountain Fault.

The Castle Mountain Fault starts near Castle Mountain, which is eastward of Sutton…and the main geological feature on the fault itself. From there, it runs in a generally southwest direction, eventually petering out just north of the village of Tyonek which is situated on the northern shore of Cook Inlet, a little south and west of Anchorage.

What makes the fault unique is both its type, and location; a strike-slip at the surface for a good many miles, and the population in the area. The fault has an average of 6 to 700 years between events, most of those between magnitude 6 and 7 as far as geologists have been able to determine. The last event was about 650 years ago, but core samples taken were impossible to analyze properly due to their composition. It’s not as long as the Denali Fault, at less than 200 km, but its proximity to the Cook Inlet complex was cause for concern-by geologists and emergency planners alike.

Most of the Valley’s population is well south of the northern side of the fault, which runs right through a wide spot on the George Parks Highway incorporated as Houston. If a person were looking at a map, and found the Little Susitna River, the fault itself runs just south of the bridge over the Lil Su (as locals call it) and continues on to the Susitna River-staying north of the popular Big Lake area and the new Port MacKenzie on the shore of Cook Inlet.

No one knew exactly how the Valley would fare when the Castle Mountain Fault finally let go. No one knew what the mix of glacial till, sand, silts, gravels and clays underneath the area would do, but now I know.

[suvalley]

Chapter One

Ah, April in Southcentral Alaska. Nothing like it anywhere on the globe. The days are getting longer and the sun is helping the remaining snow and ice melt. Mud and gravel are beginning to streak the dirt roadways, dust is curling from tires on pavement, and nearly every vehicle is the same color-break up. A few spring birds have arrived, seeking last years’ seeds and the sap is rising in the birch. The skies are a bright, washed out blue due to the angle of the sun, and while it may reach 45 degrees during the day, it’s still below freezing at night. The pussy willows have already budded and sharp eyes can see the red tinge on the birch branches-a sure sign of buds to come.

At home on Born Lazy Way, I was anxiously awaiting the end of the month. I had already delivered some vegetable starts to the big greenhouse, but it was still too cold to chance putting plants into my own-even with the heater going, due to a cold spring. I was pretty much up to my eyeballs in starts as it was, with three more plantings to manage somehow in the pantry-already crowded with the big table and two grow light racks. Each morning the lights were turned on, flats checked for dryness, and turned if needed. It was worth the extra effort to pre-germinate those seeds, as every cell was full-much better than the previous year. Over 60 flats already out of the house, 50 plus in the pantry and more at work, I was keeping pretty busy managing the germination, planting, flats, growing mix, water, and air flow. Just keeping track of what was planted when was beginning to become an issue, the further along I got into the season. Resolving to make up some sort of chart on the computer was the resolution of the day, April 12th.

But first, the rest of the household had to be attended. Snapping the lead on the Dane, I opened the side door of the garage to head to the barn. Peeking out, I could see a shimmer of slick on the discolored snow, made a quick u turn and changed from slippers into winter boots with better tread. With the sheltie at my heels and the big dog ranging ahead as normal, we hooked a right to go around the bank and head towards the anxiously waiting horses and chickens. This time, I kept the big dog in firm check as the previous morning his tug on the lead had caused me to loose my footing and take a spill. At my age, those spills leave aches and bruises and I was not about to have a repeat. When we paused for the morning ritual “only this spot will do to pee on”, I checked the skies to the north and east. Partly cloudy, temperature felt around 20 or so, and I was just thinking I should have grabbed a pair of gloves when the Dane paused to smell something. Weird dog, that Dooms. Notices everything, even watches the fans in the house some times, but I pay attention when he does. For a few seconds, I couldn’t tell what had caught his attention, but then I noticed the scrunched up piles of snow and ice across the driveway and I knew a moose had been across it recently. With a “Good doggie” we headed on up, the sheltie bounding ahead as usual.

After portioning out hay to the horse, checking stock tanks to make sure they were not frozen over (no, thank heavens), and topping the chickens’ water and feed pans in their little new winter coop, I checked the temperature. Yep, 21 degrees out, at 5:45 am. With a mental note to bring home more hay from the shop if it wasn’t going to rain or snow, we returned to the warmth of the house.

Inside, I checked the wood stove and was pleased to see the gauge reading in the active zone. I closed the damper a bit, turned on the fan, and poured myself a refill of coffee. I checked the clock and saw I had about a half hour to myself, and debated whether to watch the morning news, or check email. Email it was, but as usual it contained mostly junk. I quickly checked the NWS website for the forecast, which promised clearing skies, and raising temperatures over the coming week. Good, I thought-I have hay to get unloaded and I need to do that before the driveway softens up much more.

I rousted my son Joey awake, and got us both ready for the day. Then it was the usual scramble to get all of us into my little SUV….both dogs, 11 year old son, his back pack, and all of our winter gear. In a couple of minutes, I was dropping Joey off at our neighbors so he could catch the school bus, and I was headed on into work. Only 13 miles, but taking much longer than last year with the addition of 4 extra stop lights.

Work was work, for April. The morning passed relatively quickly with a couple deliveries completed, and the phone was fairly busy. Towards the end of the morning I called my boss and let him know it looked like it was shaping up to be a fairly good early season for the company-always welcome news. Directing my driver to refill the delivery truck for the afternoon rounds, I finally had a chance to check my work computer. The Anchorage Daily News was reporting a “swarm” of earthquakes all around Cook Inlet-none large, but I thought it rather strange I hadn’t felt anything-other people had. I quickly checked the list of quakes on the AEIC website, and was stunned to see dozens and dozens of tremors, nearly all under magnitude 2.5, but under just about everywhere. A few were over 3, and there were so many listed on the Alaska Earthquake Information Center map, I could barely make sense of what I was seeing.

With that page still up on my machine, I got distracted by another customer walking in the door. Lunging for Dooms’ leash, I managed to snag hold of it before he came around the corner of the counter and scared the guy witless. After answering his questions, he must have seen what was up on my screen because he asked what was happening. I told him I didn’t know, but that it was kind of scary, the sheer number of quakes over the past 24 hours-over 250. He just looked me hard in the eyes, made an abrupt turn and was out the door in nothing flat. About that time the phone rang again, and it was Dan, my driver. He’d been hung up at home with a small snafu, did I care if he ran a little late getting back? No problem, I told him, the two deliveries scheduled were both “anytime” in the afternoon, and relatively close by.

With that, I hung up the phone and sat down at my desk. Dooms insisted on burrowing his head into my side as I tried to learn more about the quakes, with Jethro (the Sheltie) trying to get into my lap as well. Not finding much, I shot off an email to a couple friends about it, with a warning. As I was searching the news for information, I called my sis at her work, and told her-she’d heard nothing about it. I made her promise to head for higher ground at the very first hint of a good rolling quake, because she worked at nearly sea level in Eklutna. Both dogs curled up on their beds along the office wall, as I called my good friend Karen to let her know too.

About that time, Dooms popped to his feet, on alert. I didn’t hear anything but the normal traffic whizzing by on the highway about 50 yards away, so I stood up to see out the window. Jethro began spinning circles the way he does when he’s excited, but Dooms….Dooms was rock still, and as I glanced at him, I saw the hackles start to rise down his back. Dropping the phone onto the desk, I reached out to stroke his neck-the dog was literally vibrating now with tension. As I was wondering what the heck, he leapt over to the office window and stood up with his front paws on the sill. And the growls started. Deep, quiet growls, the growls that mean business from a big dog. I am looking out the window and I can’t see anything-just the highway, the stop light at the corner, the bike path with no one on it, no one is pulling up to the shop, nothing seemed amiss. The delivery truck is parked in front of the shop doors and my car next to it, but that’s it.

And then I heard something. Just something, a little something, a far away something in the distance. A rumbling, resonating sound. A heavy truck coming down the highway heading east to Palmer? National Guard unit training flight? I wasn’t sure. I snatched onto Dooms’ collar and pulled him down away from the window, instantly afraid. My hindbrain began jabbering, telling me to run run run RUN, but from what? I glanced again out the window and caught a glimpse of power lines across the highway….they were snaking up and down and that moment is when the Castle Mountain Fault and I met.


With an increasingly loud noise like a train or landslide, the ground began to quiver under my feet-at least, that‘s what it felt like where I was. The shop building itself was banging and the metal was squeaking and groaning and I could hear things falling. I just had time for a mental “My God I hope it’s not the Big One!” when the real rolling began. Heaving waves that caused me to grab onto the counter to stay erect, the clock to come off the wall and everything on the shelves to spill off. I had a split second thought of “rock and roll, baby!” when I realized I was an idiot to be inside a steel building during an earthquake. Slamming into the counter several times, I managed to get to the door, which literally popped open as I reached for it. Glancing out, it looked fairly safe and I yelled for Jethro and out the door we dashed, onto the paved parking area.

The building was now nearly shrieking, it was so loud with metal being stressed and ripped and I watched the 15 foot shop door crumple into warped sections and pop off the tracks, just missing the front of the delivery truck. I managed to stay on my feet with legs spread, one hand on the chain link fencing until it was yanked out of my reach. I scanned towards the road and watched a pickup veer wildly across the lanes, off onto the grassy area of the bike path and then back, the driver clearly nearly unable to control the vehicle, barely missing the oncoming minivan who traveled on a 100 yards then screeched to a stop. The street lights were whipping back and forth, and power poles dancing every which way, with wires being snapped like threads as I watched in stunned disbelief. And then, I was on the ground myself, with two panicked dogs attempting to be my lap at the same time, both growly and barking and frantic with fear and I was too, as I clung to them tightly.

After that, I don’t know how long it went on. I could only close my eyes and my thoughts, if they could be called that, were for my son. I was too frightened to think of anything noble, or smart, or propehtic, honest. When the sound went away, and the ground stopped moving, I was hyperventilating and in a full blown panic myself. Eventually my wits returned, but I have no recollection of time spent on the ground there. But when I became aware of myself and what had happened, I thought one thing:

This is it.

[nhdreamer]

Great start! I can't wait to hear more, and I want to commend you on doing such a fine job of describing the hit of a big quake.

[nancy1340]

Very good start. Looking forward to seeing how she handles this.

Thank you

[mnn2300]

Great start, I like your descriptions, they really paint a picture.
Thanks!

[suvalley]

Chapter Two



For a few minutes, I could not think what to do first. Dooms was keening in distress, Jethro had somehow worked himself inside the insulated work shirt I had on over a sweatshirt, and I was rattled. We had ended up with my back towards the fenced yard of the shop, facing the south. The sun was still shining and there was a light breeze, but it was quiet. With some effort, I managed to stand up on unsteady feet, and after a few deep breaths the mental pistons began firing again.

First, check the natural gas. Which side of the building was it on? I remembered it was on the outside of the yard, and skirting around the delivery truck, I looked down the shop wall, ignoring the jumbled mess behind the chain link. The metal siding was severely buckled and had come loose completely in some spots, leaving long lengths sticking outwards. Off the pavement to the left the ground looked strange, like it had been raked in some spots, but normal in others. I noticed some deep spots had opened, like dots across the adjoining lot, but didn’t pay it much attention. The pavement itself had a few cracks but looked okay, so I quickly tied Dooms off to the delivery truck and made my way down the shop wall, ducking under and around twisted metal. I knew there had been a wrench hung on the base when it was installed but hadn’t thought to check it in years….but there it was-off it’s hook but on the ground. I couldn’t hear anything, but managed to get the wrench on and turned the valve off, just the same.

Second, check the power. Back around the building to the front door-there was no way to get in through the shop door at all….but the office door had been left wide open, stuck that way due the frame being warped. The front window was cracked, but not broken completely out. The inside of the office was a mess. Even with shelf, desk and counter contents strewn around, I could see the concrete floor had heaved and buckled upwards. Carefully, I picked my way through the rubble and found the office hand held under some papers. No dial tone of course, no power I realized.

Third, can I get a phone to work? I had two cell phones, my office one and my own, neither of which I used much. The work one was found still hooked to the charger, and with relief I saw that it had power. Yanking the charger free of the receptacle, I made my way back outside to try for a signal. All circuits busy, the automatic recording said.

Fourth-get home and get Joey.


I stood there for a minute, wondering which vehicle to take. The SUV that holds the dogs comfortably, or the flat bed delivery truck with 4 wheel drive? It should have been a no brainer, but I am not one to take things without asking and I couldn’t exactly ask my boss. As I am looking at the truck, I had a V-8 “doh!” moment, and I hopped in, fired it up, and found an AM station after some trial and error.


“………reporting from Fairbanks, back to you, John”

“BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP This is the emergency broadcast system. This is not a test. Repeat. This is not a test. The Cook Inlet area has experienced an earthquake. Preliminary magnitude of 8.2 according to the Alaska Tsunami Warning Center. The earthquake was centered just four miles west of Houston, Alaska and occurred at 12:42 Alaska time. At this time, a tsunami is not expected, however tidal surges could be quite high. All residents in low lying areas are urged to evacuate to higher ground immediately. Repeat: All residents in low lying areas or tidal zones are urged to evacuate to higher ground immediately. The Alaska National Guard, the Alaska State troopers and other local emergency personnel are responding. Be advised that travel may be difficult and all residents are urged to stay where they are, out of damaged structures.
Please stay tuned to this station for further instructions. This concludes this announcement on the emergency broadcast system BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP”

“OK, this is John at KFQD, reporting live the events that occurred just minutes ago, at 12:42 this afternoon. According to the emergency broadcast, everyone who lives in a low area should head immediately for high ground. Now, drop everything and get in your cars or on your wheelers or just run!”

“Ah, Scott in here, just want to pass along I have a report of major damage from east Anchorage, there is still no word about Eagle River, the Parks highway is impassable, I think they are closing the airport………”

“Scott, I just got word from the Alaska Tsunami Warning Center in Palmer. They are predicting a moderate tsunami, to perhaps between six and 12 feet, upper Cook Inlet, set to arrive in approximately one hour from now………”

I snapped off the radio and realized I had to pack up. Like now. Right now. What did I need to take home with me? Propane! First, I loaded the dogs, and drove around the back of the shop to the pallet where the spare bottles were kept for the forklift. Jumping out, I tipped each one to find the full ones, and drug them as quick as I could to the bed of the truck, four 20 pound bottles, lucky me.

With strength I didn’t know I had any longer, I got them onto the truck, then climbed up and secured them to the head ache rack using a cargo strap. Blowing hard, I paused a moment and thought: What else?

Back around to the office, and onto the bed went the spare paper towels, TP, coffee. With some presence of mind, I managed to remember the cash bag, the digital camera, and I snagged my two favorite photos from the debris pile-miraculously not damaged. The plant starting rack in the office had jumped halfway across the room and several flats had fallen off the top shelf. With a pang, I turned and left them, tossed the supplies into the pipe rack and it dawned on me….I should grab some pipe or something, right? Back around the shop to the rack, which was sitting askew, partially dropped into a sink hole. Okay, not the heavy wall stuff, the pvc then…..with a bit of struggle I managed to free 200 foot of pipe from the pile and get that on the rack and secured.

I am just driving through the gates and it dawns on me: I need to bring hay home. In my hurry to pack up, I had forgotten about the horse. Backing up, I spun the one ton dually around to face the 40 foot container that held the extra hay. It too, was sitting at an angle, but not as bad as the pipe rack. Luckily, the padlock was not latched, but I couldn’t get the right door open fully, even using a pry bar. The left swung open easily enough and I hastily started dragging those bales to the front. I managed to get a half dozen loaded before common sense returned and I realized that equipment was made to make life easier. The forklift was where it had been left, and fired right up as usual. With careful jockeying, I was able to get the forklift with a pallet on it, near to the door of the container. Working as fast as a 50 something woman could, I stacked hay on the pallet and then loaded that onto the flat bed. I gave it a push with the forks to move the weight up over the axles, hopped off the lift, turned off the fuel for it, and was back in the truck as fast as I could.

What else? What else? Chains. Into the bed of the truck. Extra cargo straps, ditto. Anything else? Phones. Chargers. Work gloves. First Aid kit. Ah, water! I grabbed the partial case from the shop refrigerator and dumped that in the front seat on the floor board. I made one futile attempt to close the gate before I left, but it was too out of plumb to manage so I left the forklift parked, fuel turned off, just inside across the entry. Someone would have to fire up the forklift to get into the yard itself-at least with a vehicle. With some choice words I managed to swing the office door partially shut, and that was that, I was ready.

Checking my watch, I was astounded to see that nearly 15 minutes had passed since the announcement about the tsunami.



Driving with two dogs scared out their wits was impossible. Between whines, panting and scrambling around, I was taking a beating inside the cab within 100 feet of the shop. Furious, I slammed to a stop, yelled at the Sheltie to stay put, and dragged the big dog out. Looking into his panicked eyes, I knew I had to take a couple minutes to settle him down. I pulled him closer and began the slow stroking I knew calmed and reassured him and after a minute or so, I felt the tension begin to fade away and the breathing slow. After a moment of indecision, I finally decided I had to tie him to the bed of the truck-between the hay and the propane bottles. I’d never done that before and there was a pretty good chance he’d panic and hang himself jumping off, but I had to do it. With a little coaxing he was able to make the nearly four foot jump up beside me, and I tied off his lead to the pipe rack. With a few encouraging words, I positioned myself to jump down when an aftershock smacked us a good one.

Immediately, I was dropped down onto my butt, with my legs hanging off the back-I snatched onto the rack and held on as the world rocked and jumped and bounced around me. I’ll never forget the sight of my SUV bouncing around like a basketball being dribbled, or the grinding, popping, cracking and roaring sound that came with it. I watched the fence posts get jacked up and down and the chain link rippled wildly as the metal building danced and screamed. With adrenalin pumping hard, I was about into a full blown panic myself when it finally eased and stopped. Eventually I began to hear the whines of fear from the big dog as the pounding in my own ears faded away and turned to see how he had fared during that aftershock.

One of the propane bottles had slipped loose from the strap and was tipped over, but aside from that, everything looked okay. I got back to my feet, tightened down the strap with another loop through the lifting handle, patted the dog, and hopped back down to the ground. With shaking hands and rather wobbly on my feet, I made it to the drivers’ door, crawled in, and shut it firmly. The Sheltie was on the floorboards, scared to death and the sight of his terror stricken little body got me to focus a bit. I snatched him up to my chest and we just all sat there for a few minutes or seconds-while I fought back tears and huge waves of emotion that followed one after the other.

Eventually I was able to pull myself together, with the urge to get home in the fore front of my mind. I fired up the truck again and eased the Duramax into second and off we went. Thirteen and a half miles to go.

[nancy1340]

Poor dogs.....

Thanks for a new chapter so soon.

[suvalley]

Chapter Three


Thirteen and a half miles is a cake walk, a 20 minute drive on any day. If I leave home at the right time, I can sail through all but one stoplight on my way to work, but will catch half of them on the way home. My route is pretty simple: Palmer Wasilla Highway on up to KGB Road, then nearly 8 miles down that to Sunset, then maybe a mile or so up that to the subdivision street that leads to home. It takes 45 minutes on a day with really bad roads-ice, blowing snow, things like that. On this day, it was a mix of pedal to the metal and inching through debris, downed power lines, detours, and go arounds that taxed my knowledge of roads, trails, creeks, bridges and my memory to the max. I knew my husband would be worried, but at least he was safe at work on the North Slope. We’d never really discussed in detail about what to do should we have some sort of disaster, but he did know I would get Joey and be at home. Somehow.

I turned the radio back on and found another AM station on the air:

“KENI 650, we’re live with updates on the quake that just occurred. The Alaska Tsunami Warning Center has issued an update, with a warning that a tidal surge is expected beginning at about 1:30 pm along Cook Inlet and the Knik Arm. All residents are advised to head to higher ground immediately. The surge is expected to reach at least 12 feet. Repeat: The surge is expected to reach twelve feet and people living in low lying areas should evacuate immediately. The center is advising residents to prepare for aftershocks following todays’ magnitude 8 plus, with some likely to be very strong. One large aftershock of 7.3 has already occurred……….” I hurriedly turned the dial back to 750 and listened with a sickening feeling to the list of damage already being reported: Parks and Glenn Highways impassable, with the Knik Arm bridges being down or gone. Overpasses collapsed, buildings in Anchorage down and some burning, port possibly taking heavy damage as well. All emergency systems functioning on generator power, with National Guard units already being called in for help. Residents were being urged to stay in their homes, if safe, and if not, to head to the schools where the Red Cross was being mobilized to set up shelters.

I was pretty lucky that the power poles and sagging or downed lines were on the south side of the arterial, otherwise I would have been forced into picking my way through connected subdivisions to the south. Most of the traffic was also speeding along, everyone being fairly polite about it, except at one intersection-there, someone had bailed out and was waving traffic through on foot. Brave man, was all I could think as I braked and then did a California roll right on through. Several places required some skill to negotiate busted up or tilted pavement but luckily the rotting snow banks alongside the roadway presented no huge obstacle.

I made it to the main interchange with the Parks Highway relatively quickly. The two malls were a mess, vehicles had been smacked together, people were dazed and wandering around, lots of yelling and I heard the occasional popping of a firearm. Oh great, just what we need, idiots with firearms and no patience I thought. Slowing to take a good look at the Glennwood Bypass bridge, my heart sank. Fully half of it was completely off the support pillars and hanging by twisted bits of rebar, above the railroad tracks below. One unfortunate vehicle was hanging partway into the void, but the doors were open on the minivan and I couldn’t see anyone on foot. With the bypass being built on a compound angle to begin with, and the lower section-or north side gone, that left no way to get up that hill. As I watched, a couple cars turned off the Parks and were brought to a halt at the sight. I was pretty sure the road between the two lakes was impassable because the area was nothing but peat and gravel under there. Okay, then, Plan B it is, I thought to myself.

Stopping at the highway, I had to wait a minute or two for traffic to clear as folks were having to detour around a downed pole that had fallen across three lanes. It was creating a bottleneck there, but luckily I found a small break in traffic and stomped on the accelerator, making a left onto the Parks Highway southbound. With some very careful maneuvering, I was able to get to the top of the hill and make a right onto the road that lead to Glennwood, and began cautiously picking my way along, as a portion of the roadway had slumped or sloughed off on the left. I was not the only person to have figured this out, as I was in line behind a couple other pickups. In a caravan of sorts, we made it to the left over the railroad tracks. Looking down them, I could only think it was going to be a good long time before the railroad was functioning again-they were warped and twisted and a couple had even popped loose and were sticking up at odd angles.

Proceeding into the subdivision, the roadway surface was heaved and cracked, all sorts of angles but nothing so big a person couldn’t manage to drive over or around them. I was third in line behind a Dodge pickup when we all were forced to stop at the creek side bridge-which looked impassable. We all got out to take a look, and to discuss how to get across the once placid, low creek which was now muddied and running higher than normal. As I watched the waters swirl and tumble it occurred to me that debris wouldn’t be far behind and I mentioned this to the other three drivers. The second truck was a high job with four wheel drive and a winch on the front. The 30 something year old driver was a reedy, high energy type and he was anxious to give it go if the first truck would back out of his way. He promised to wait on the other side and we’d use his winch on our rigs if we got stuck. I pointed out that I had noticed that the creek bed was very soft before, and perhaps the downstream side would be better as it was slightly wider with lower banks. The first guy had no idea, he was just used to taking the road as a shortcut when traffic was bad and had never paid attention. The driver of the second rig had been over the creek on an ATV and agreed with me, so we got out of his way so he could position for a run across. Holding my breath, I watched as he dropped the truck into 4 low, popped the clutch and began down over the brushy bank. With water and ice chunks spraying off on both sides he wallowed across like a tank without stopping, barely getting his running boards wet in the process. He pulled out the other side and stopped on the punky snow, then turned around to point the truck towards the new crossing. I looked back at the first rig and saw a tricked out fancy truck with all the bling and a nervous, scared mid 20s driver to manage the crossing. I piped up that I would go next since I had four wheel drive and plenty of pulling power to spare. With a nod, I jumped back into the truck, pushing the dog over out of my way. I managed to back up without smacking into anything, then saw that my longer wheelbase was going to be an issue when the wheels dropped into the creek bed itself-I ran a pretty good chance of getting hung up there if I slowed down the slightest. I rolled down the window and shouted to the driver across the creek to get the heck out of the way, found the 4 wheel drive, popped it into low range, and waited for space on the other side.

With my mental toes and fingers crossed, I revved up the engine and let off the brakes, and the truck surged forward into the creek. My stomach dropped as the front end did and then the back end followed, scrambling to find traction. I eased off the throttle a tad, felt the rear tires bite again, and powered on. I aimed for a spot just to the side of the first driver and it was a good thing I did. The water splashed up onto the bank had made it very slick and I darned near got stuck getting out when I lost traction on the rear end coming out. A little measured throttle work and I was out, on the other side, and plowing to a stop. Letting go of the steering wheel took a little doing, I needed to catch my breath anyway. I hopped out of the truck and the first guy and I had a quick discussion on how to get the other truck over without it getting stuck. Finally we decided the best thing to do would be to run out the winch first, and have the guy attach it to the tow hooks in front. While this was done, I got my delivery truck out of the way and facing towards the hill beyond, and got out to watch.

Sure enough, the baby truck wallowed down into the creek and promptly lost traction. The driver, losing his cool, was stomping on the accelerator like crazy, getting nowhere. With some yelling, we were able to get him to leave off that, and the winch was engaged. Slowly, it came across and started up the bank, only to bog down on the bank in the now slushy, icy snow. With that, I ran back to my truck and dug out the 25 foot chain in the tool box below the bed. I made a loop around the lift bed bar, and ran it out to the bumper of the other truck. The driver popped around, and finally introduced himself as Dave. With a quick introduction, I told him I would pull his truck, dragging the stuck one along with us. Given the angles involved, I knew I would have to head to the left, and told him to expect me to slide all over everywhere, but to keep at it on a measured count. We lashed the far end to his welded on bumper hitch and had a plan. With only time for a glance and a “good doggie” to Dooms, I hopped in and waited for the signal.

A full three minutes and a quarter acre later, we managed to get the truck unstuck and onto firm ground again. It was the worst attempt at towing I had ever been involved with, with my truck going this way and that, rear end sliding around, and tires smoking on half frozen ground to boot. We all tumbled out of our rigs with some relief and after winding up the winch and getting my chain back into the box, we were ready to tackle the hill. Looking up, my heart sank again.

In bad road conditions, this was not a hill you looked forward to tackling anyway. This time of year there was some left over sand from road crews, but even then you’d want a run at it. The safety railing on the side had fallen over for the most part, and it looked as if part of it had sloughed downwards with a long crack pretty much going straight up the center of the road. With a muttered “Oh this is going to be awful” I realized I basically had no way out of this obstacle except back across the creek and more miles to pick through on a long detour. I told the guys to give me time to get up, then come up one at a time, just in case. I’d wait up beyond the brow of the hill out of the way on the right if I could.

Leaving the truck in four wheel drive high, I put it gear, and with a prayer backed up as far as I could get to the bridge approach to make a run at it. Reaching out to pull little Jethro close to me, I gave it one heck of a gun, and up we went, engine whistling and dust flying behind me. The truck lurched from side to side but I didn’t lose traction when I was forced to straddle the crack and I popped up over the hill and coasted to a stop. Nearly bawling in relief, I hugged Jethro, got out and checked the big dog. The poor thing was a nervous wreck, shaking and giving his little worried whines. With feet splayed and legs too, he had somehow managed to stay on his feet through all of that. I jogged back to the crest of the hill, waved the okay, and watched as both trucks made it up without stopping. Dave drifted to a stop along side, and asked me where I was headed. I told him, and he said “Good, we can pair up, I go as far as Vine” The other driver, whose name turned out to be Gray, thanked us both and then said he only needed to go another mile or so, he lived near the senior center. After shaking hands all around, we set off.


For a while, I thought I would have fairly smooth sailing going home. I flipped on the radio and heard that the time for the tidal surge/tsunami had passed and that damage reports were trickling in. Several planes were in the air to assess damage and announcements were going to made every 15 minutes on the Emergency Broadcast System. The Governor had already asked for a disaster declaration, and so forth. I was following along behind Dave and my thoughts began to wander as we picked our way around split and tilted lengths of pavement, or took detours onto the bike path, and went around stalled or abandoned cars and trucks-a few of which had obviously gone off the road during the main event and crashed. In one spot we were forced to drive completely around a stretch of power poles with lines down by crossing a community ball field parking lot, that had luckily been pretty much cleared of snow. A number of people were on foot, and of course quite a few dirt bikes and ATVs were out as well, people going to safety I presume. I finally noticed that the dash clock showed it had been over two hours since I had left the shop-I had about five more miles to go as we were just coming up to the grade leading down to Fairview Loop and the convenience store there.

Suddenly, the brake lights lit up in front of me and I slammed to a stop right behind Dave. He got out and motioned me forward too, so I did the same, walking up to see what the problem was. Not another 60 yards ahead of us was a big tangle of wrecked vehicles-basically blocking the entire width of the road. A couple people looked to be stuck on either side, trying to mud bog it with family sedans. With a muttered oath, I knew what we had to do to get around, and told Dave to follow me. Back into our trucks we went and I pulled a quick three point and took the first turn down into the subdivision frontage road along KGB road proper. I was stunned at the amount of damage I could see to the fancy new houses along there-busted windows, siding popped off, garage doors sprung and items knocked over and jumbled up. A few people were sitting outside, waiting for what I wasn’t sure and they watched us drive by vacantly. At the stop sign, I could see beyond to the wreck area to the road easily enough and it looked like we could sneak a path through between the mailboxes and the ditch there if we were careful. I told Dave what I planned and lead off, negotiating the tight fit with only one small clang as a mirror clipped a mailbox. Once through, I pulled on ahead and stopped on the slope to wait. Behind Dave there turned out to be a handful of vehicles, so I watched them blast right on by. Like them, I was in a hurry to get home too.

I asked Dave if he wanted me to lead and he agreed, although he said he should stop and help clear the wrecked cars. I looked at the mess and thought to myself it would take several wreckers a few hours to untangle it all, at best, and passed that along. There were only a few drivers hanging out by their cars and trucks anyway, and he agreed. With that, we headed on out Knik Goose Bay towards home.

The Tesoro station was a shambles, as was the liquor store. The clerks had stayed and were working at getting people what they needed without much fuss from what I could see. I was amazed, but then realized that there wasn’t much else they could do, otherwise they would be looted by someone, or worse. The mystery of the order was revealed when I saw two guys with shotguns standing at each entrance. That’ll work, was my thought.

We made the three or so miles to Vine without incident, easy as can be with only a few spots where we had to make detours. The largish expanse of gravel hill on the north side of the roadway nearest Vine Extension had slumped pretty badly, pretty much covering the entire road. By the time we approached, it was obvious that quite a few vehicles had driven over the loose gravel slope, and that each passing set of tires had caused more material to slide downhill. But, there had been worked into the surface, a set of tracks to follow so after checking for oncoming traffic I headed across and made it with only a few short spots feeling uncomfortably soft under the wheels.

With that, we approached Vine and KGB, a well known intersection. Easing to a stop I was discouraged to see both stop light cross members down, and a tangle of power poles and lines had caught on them, halfway down to the ground. Even the tsunami warning siren tower was canted off vertical and looked damaged. Several trucks were stopped on the far side, and a few were hung up on Vine, as there seemed to be no way around this mess either. The coffee shop looked to be partly off its foundation but I pulled into the parking area anyway and stopped. Pretty soon it began filling up behind me, and I realized I would be stuck there, about a mile from home if I didn’t figure our way out of this.

Climbing up onto the back of my truck, I shouted for attention. It took a few tries but eventually most faces were turned my way. I asked who needed to go down Vine and got a show of hands-at least six. I yelled out which roads to take to get onto Vine, and which turns to make to thread through the adjoining subdivision. Then, I asked who needed to go further out KGB, and this time there was well over a dozen. A few people on the Vine side needed to get onto KGB so they peeled off in a hurry, to follow my directions. I could only give a mental thanks that I recalled the way through that maze of streets since it had been a full decade since I’d made a delivery in there. Dave gave me a friendly grin and a thumbs up as he got in line behind the others and left.

I told the folks on Vine who needed to get south on KGB which roads to take, and where to look for the wide trail on the power line easement that would take them across to Commadore and then down to KGB. That contingent left, including a Dodge Neon I thought probably wouldn’t make the detour. That left us southbound folks to go around the mess on the south side of the road. Yelling at people to follow, I got in the truck and headed back down KGB about 100 yards, to the frontage road. There, a right turn put us all on the well screened road and off I went, quick as I could. The closer I got to home, the faster the urge was to drive, but I was still careful of debris, downed lines, poles, and the ever present damaged roadway surface. Luckily it only took a few moments to thread these obstacles beyond the mess at the intersection and further, until I could make a right across from Sunset. Pulling up at the stop sign, I paused and then waved to those behind me, powering on across the road. Almost home, was all I could think.

[suvalley]

Chapter Four

Sunset runs due west from KGB right there, and there are trails that will take you all the way to Big Lake-but you can’t drive them. Too many swamps along the way and some big hills too of course. Looking up the hill in front of me, I was not so sure I could even make it. The hillside had partly sloughed and as I was sitting there, paused, trying to decide how to get up it, there was another aftershock. This time, I could do nothing but sit inside my bouncing truck and hope it would be over soon. About the time it ended, I heard a tremendous yelp in the back and knew I had a problem there.

As soon as it seemed safe enough, I hopped out to check on the big dog. He was frantically trying to scramble away from the propane bottles, leaving huge scratches on the wood deck, nearly in a blind panic. He was pulling so hard on the lead I was sure he was going to choke himself to death, so I raced to the back of the truck and climbed up as quick as my old self could manage. Wiggling along the hay and supplies, I was able to get a hand on him, to no effect at all. Finally I pressed up against him tightly, and began crooning as soft as I could. When he still continued to scramble, I knew I had to do something-and quickly snatched onto an ear and pinched it. Hard. Gosh I hated doing that, but I had to stop him somehow. I got his muzzle in both hands and after yelling his name a couple of times, he finally seemed to focus on me. Right away, the tension left him and he began his happy, excited wriggling, tail banging away against everything as usual. The ride home had just been a bit much for him, I figured, and I might as well put him up front for the last mile. It took a little doing, getting him down but I managed without a spill, and he leapt into the front seat without urging.


Okay then. Back around and into the truck, pushing both dogs aside to shoulder my way in the drivers’ seat. After a few seconds of “get over” and “lay down here” they were both settled and I put the truck back into gear to attempt the run up Sunset. To my surprise, a large portion of the roadway had come loose and slid down quite a ways. There were large chunks and slabs of pavement sitting every which way on top of loose gravel and rocks and dirt and I was feeling pretty iffy about making it up that grade, let me tell you. There was only one way around this spot, threading through yet another housing area and that was sure to be a mess too-and included a very steep, paved hill I didn’t drive often. As I was sitting there, debating what to do, someone on an ATV crested the hill, saw the slide, and screeched to a stop. For a few seconds we looked towards each other and it dawned on me-it was Frank-my sitters’ husband. I rolled down my window and yelled up to him, asking him to check the slope for me.

He bailed off the machine and began carefully probing the surface, kicking and stomping. He got about halfway down it, then it started to come loose under his feet and he back pedaled out as well as a man in his late 50s with extra weight could manage. He reassured me I could make it, just power on through and don’t stop, the pavement was fine up on top. With his words in my mind, I did just that, feeling the rear end of the truck sinking into soft material several times, and once, losing traction for a split second and nearly spinning out. I could hear and feel loose chunks of pavement hitting the undercarriage and hoped I wouldn’t poke a hole in a fuel tank or lose anything else.

I braked to a stop across from the ATV and we both started jabbering at once. Eventually, we sorted out that his place seemed to be okay, aside from one busted window and they’d had some damage inside the house, but the shop was a mess due to stock piled steel parts rolling off his racks. As a pick up welder, he had quite a stock on hand for various projects. One of the large, beetle killed spruce on his three lot place had come down, taking out a largish fishing boat and burying his ancient dozer. He’d been heading out to see if he could locate his wife and their teenage daughter when we met and I told them about the road hazards and how I had managed to get around them. Since his wife had taken their pickup, I was pretty sure she could get home safely and he was mighty relieved to hear that. Without being too rude, we said our goodbyes, shook hands, and I was on the way.

I drove up another couple hundred yards and could see that there was a pole down across the road right near my turn street. Cautiously, I crept up but thankfully there seemed to be no energy in the lines, as this section had completely come loose from the distribution line. Scraping the passenger side on brush at the culvert ditch, I squeaked through without driving over the cross arms and immediately realized it wasn’t going to be so easy to just drive home-the roadway had turned to something I didn’t recognize-too smooth and the normal gravel surface was almost missing. In it’s place were a number of little holes dotting the surface, with water weeping out of them. The bluish color told me it was exposed clay, and I knew I might be in serious trouble, just two blocks from home. With the truck idling, I got out to look at it closer, and was distracted by a flight of chickadees which dipped down suddenly near the road, then quickly vanished off to the west. Looking to the left I could see the abandoned house on the corner had pretty much imploded on itself, with only a small portion of the roof remaining intact. The walls had given way and crumpled, dropping the roof right on top. Wow, was all I could think for a second, then I hunted around for something to probe the road with, eventually finding a limb long and straight enough to use. I poked around and like I thought, it seemed to be pretty much straight “blue goo” as we called it, saturated clay, with streaks of what had to be our local hardpan.

I didn’t know what to think….when I put weight on the stick, I couldn’t push it in further than a couple inches, yet the shiny surface just looked suspicious in the sunlight. The patch was only maybe 30 foot long, but longer than the truck so if I got mired, I would be truly stuck. The neighbor up the road had a pickup, a six wheeler and I knew there were other trucks close at hand, but was anyone home to help this time of day? I had no idea and while I was thinking this dilemma through, I heard the whining buzz of an ATV drawing closer behind me. The distinct sound of aggressive tread of ATV tires on pavement rapidly eased off as the person downshifted and then stopped. I had turned around and was walking back to the corner when I heard a shout-

“Hey, can you get through there?” came from the driver, who looked to be all of 14 years old, complete with leather riding gear and helmet on to boot.

“I don’t know, I don’t think so” I replied.

“I can’t get around the back way, I need to get over onto Hollywood Road” the young boy said. “I need to get home, I was at my buddy’s house down the road, my Mom is going to be worried sick” he continued.

“Well, I know some trails, but I need to get home myself…..how about you ride through this first, check it out, and I’ll follow if it looks okay. I live another two blocks up and I need to get home and get my wheeler too, and get to Hollywood, we can go together…..deal?” I asked.

After a short pause, he agreed, and promptly maneuvered deftly around the downed pole and to the side of my still idling truck. With a muttered oath, he flipped the lever to engage the four wheel drive on the machine, dropped it into first gear, and with gusto, thumbed the accelerator down. The medium sized ATV roared into action, and hit the wet clay surface. I saw the tires lose traction for an instant then catch and bang, he was on the other side, braking to a stop. I looked carefully at his tracks, and saw he’d only sunk about two inches, and those were rapidly filling with water. Several of the mysterious holes belched up a thick bluish liquid which oozed over the surface then subsided.

I stood there in indecision for another few seconds, then realized I had to give it a try, no matter what. I had way too much stuff on board to try walking everything by hand. I quickly told the kid to get out of the way, and that the house up on the corner probably had someone home with a truck if I got stuck. Nodding his understanding, he pulled up further, out of the way. With my stomach roiling, I pushed my way back inside the cab, ordering the dogs over and out of the way. I couldn’t back up but a truck length or two to get a run at it anyway, but I inched back until I could feel the rear tires come up firm against the downed pole behind me. Hands clenched, I revved up the motor as much as I dared, then let up off the brake. The diesel engine whined and the truck jumped forward and I only had a half second to be scared when I felt the whole rig drop out under me quite a ways and then were through. Shakily, I motioned to the kid to follow behind, and started up the last small grade to home.

I had barely noted the damage to all the houses I had passed so far, but I was taken aback by what I saw in my own neighborhood. My good neighbors’ place looked to be mostly okay, but the fancy deck with the hot tub had come loose and traveled a good five feet down slope from the foundation there. Part of their upper deck had come loose and was hanging down, nearly obscuring their main entryway, and the driveway looked to have just collapsed down onto their lower lawn area, but the main structure looked intact. I slowed and honked a couple times and I was happy to see my neighbor pop her head out the door and wave back. I’ll check with her later, I thought, she’s okay.

The next house, on the right hand corner, looked to have twisted partly off the foundation and was standing, if you could call it that, at an angle like the tower of Pisa. I knew no one was home during the day and that they didn’t have pets so I motored on by the three story frame house, checking the log house across the road. It looked perfectly fine, and I knew that the owner there too, was away at work for the day-out at the Point. Following that was an unfinished, haphazardly built place, and like I had feared, it had collapsed completely. Not seeing any vehicles there, I presumed they’d all left or been away for the day. My heart in my throat I accelerated the next block, barely paying attention to anything but the driving need to be home.

I slowed to make the left, just in case the power line that carried the service to home was down-but luckily it was not-the poles had jacked sideways and the one was leaning, but no lines were down. As I made the turn, my eyes were glued to the screen of bushes that nearly hid our driveway, looking for any signs of anything amiss.


Which a huge sigh of relief, I pulled into the driveway, slapped the truck into park, and turned the key off. The dogs began jostling around, knowing we were home, and I gave the usual “Wait a minute” and just sat and looked around at my own damage-which appeared to be pretty light. There was a crack in the bathroom window, and the screen was off on the living room window, but no doors were hanging open. The garage doors were another matter, the right hand side looked pretty weird until I figured out something must have rolled back against the door panels and pushed them outward, but it did look on track. The left hand door was a little crumpled looking, but seemed functional from the outside.

Nearly in tears, I bailed out with the dogs on my heels. I snatched up the big dogs’ lead before he could scare the crud out of the kid on the wheeler behind me. He had stepped off the machine and was taking off his helmet, as I told him the wheeler was in the garage. I needed to get inside and that meant a door since the power was out, and he nodded his head in understanding. With big eyes and a bashful grin, he accepted the big dogs’ lead when I handed it over, with instructions to hand on tight-he needed to whiz. With that, I made my way around the rather spongy feeling gravel pad to the side garage entry. I can’t tell you how happy I was to see it looking perfectly fine, really. The hidey hole where we stashed the spare key was off kilter but I saw a tiny slit in the snow underneath and fished the key out without much effort. It slid into the deadbolt and the door opened normally. Naturally, it was dark inside, and I was pretty cautious entering due to the amount of stuff that could be anywhere on the floor. Leaving the door standing wide open, I could make out the counter along the right hand wall, and carefully began making my way down it, stepping over who knows what in the gloom. Found the watchman’s flashlight tipped over, but it worked when I clicked on the switch.

A quick sweep of the flashlight revealed the reason for the garage door being damaged-the four wheeler had rolled back and was butted up against it. Firewood had tumbled off the wood box and several tools had fallen on top of it too. I popped back outside, and found the kid hanging onto the leash for dear life with the big dog straining to reach me. I told him I needed a hand inside, and tied the dog to the bed of the truck for the time being. Jethro was no where to be seen, but I knew he couldn’t be far away. In just a few minutes, we got the debris out of the way and the machine rolled back a little bit. I knew we had to unhook the motor up above, but had never done it myself. With my guidance, young Jake (as he introduced himself) was able to unhook the lever that attached the door to the track by standing on the wheeler itself. As he hopped down, I tried to raise the door but it wouldn’t go up all the way with the dents in it. I was scratching my head over that when Jake had the idea to nose into the panels with his own wheeler-I certainly didn’t want to try it with the truck so he positioned the front up against the bent area and ever so gently pushed them beck into some sort of alignment. It worked, although it almost caught on the last section.

First order of business was to survey the damage-and I’d been fairly lucky at first glance. The super heavy tool box had not moved, but some items had fallen off the upper shelves along the opposite wall, including the hand tools which were in a tangled pile. The plant starting racks looked mostly okay, although several light fixtures had come down on one end-something to be dealt with later for sure. I told Jake I needed to get the dogs put away before we took off, so I headed into the dark of the newer ranch style house to see what all was broken.

Into the pantry, scan right….hooboy, a big mess there. Doors open on the pantry cabinets and I could see stuff on the floor. The upper cabinets on the far wall had also popped open, and some things had fallen either on the floor, or onto the large growing table under the track light. I saw some glass on the floor and I knew some of my home canned goods had broken. Ok no dogs in the pantry then, so up the two steps into the main house.

First thing was to check the wood stove piping. It looked intact, but slightly out of kilter. Temperature was okay and I knew it was pretty well banked, so I just reached up and tapped the pipe straight with the watch light. The kitchen had suffered damage too, mostly just open doors with a few things fallen out of them onto the counter or floor. I quickly snatched up any food items and tossed them back in, out of the way. The sliding glass windows looked to be okay but two had cracks in them and one casement window looked to have popped partly out the frame. A quick check of the bedrooms and office showed more of the same-just some minor window damage and cracked drywall, a few spots where trim had popped loose and some pictures had fallen down. Thanking my lucky stars I had chosen a very good builder, I jogged back to the garage and rounded up the dogs, carrying their feed and water bowls into the dining area. I firmly shut the door between the house and the pantry, hoping they would be okay until I got back.

The next thing to do was to rig up for a cross country ride in the wheeler. Big Lake Elementary was an easy ten miles from the house. I grabbed a couple water bottles from the truck, the chains, extra gloves, snatched a better coat and a spare for Joey, and quickly topped the fuel from the jerry can on the far side of the garage. I asked Jake how he was doing for gas and he said he was good, so I put the gas can out of sight along the garage wall, next to the two full ones my husband had had the good sense to refill before he left. I threw a leg over the ATV, and it fired up immediately, and as I waited for it to warm up, I thought of a couple more things I should add to the box on front. In less than a minute I had spare socks, extra gloves, and the smallest Stihl chain saw we owned in hand. The socks and gloves went into the front box and I used a short cargo strap to lash the chainsaw onto the back rack firmly. I asked Jake to hang on another minute, and reversed the wheeler, and headed up to the barn.

The main drive to the barn is sometimes mistaken for a road, it was well constructed and fairly wide. A crack had opened up right across the lowest spot where spring run off collected and spilled over the downhill side. It was an easy five foot wide but didn’t look too deep, with melt water slowly flowing across. I put the wheeler in 4 wheel drive, down shifted, and punched it. There was only a very small drop down, maybe a couple inches and then I was through. The muddy surface, softened due to breakup, was rutted already with trips we made to the barn each day. With a little effort I negotiated these ruts and stopped up top, at the barn. I just sat there, looking at the mess.

The fence looked mostly okay, but two of the electric tape lines had come down-which was explained by T posts being at odd angles, including one corner that looked to have nearly fallen in. I quickly snatched up the lines and popped them back onto the insulators and the fence was functional if not hot. Back through the aisle way, to the back and I popped my head through the feed door to check on the old man. I found him standing in the corner of his double stall, wide eyed and very tense. With a little snort, he bolted over to my hand and accepted a couple of strokes on his face. I knew what settled him down, so I quickly tossed out some hay and checked to make sure the stock tanks were okay. I knew that having hay would keep him busy for hours so I just left it the way it was.

Picking my way back through the jumbled mess of supplies and equipment that had spilled off the shelving on the barn wall, I checked my chicken coop. The chickens had been penned for months in their coop, out of the cold and wet, and had thrived in the new coop. I was getting a few eggs nice and steady, a real treat for the household and one I intended to continue enjoying. For a wonder, the chickens seemed completely relaxed and were very upset when I lifted the sliding door to their coop, which would allow them to roam freely. They too, had food and water so there wasn’t anything else to be done.


To the left, a very deep crack had opened over the water line across the parking area-but the yard hydrant itself looked to be intact. The woodshed was a mess-standing, but some of the carefully stacked firewood had tumbled forward into the mud. The adjacent storage container was at an angle, canted off to the back a few degrees. On the downhill side, the greenhouse roof looked okay from my vantage point, although I could see that a door was open. A quick eyeball of the area showed nothing obviously amiss, thank heavens. Okay then, time to hit the road.

Making my way back across the newly formed creek at the bottom of the drive, I paused to talk with Jake for a few before we set out. Checking my watch, I was stunned to learn it was almost 5 o’clock. It only took a couple minutes to figure out he only knew the roads, not the trails. And, he needed to get to the far side of Vine somehow. There weren’t many choices, but I figured we’d probably make better time if we went further west, and then north to hook back up with Hollywood Road about two miles from Vine. That meant, working the back subdivision roads which were not well known by most. I told him my plan, and where he would be when we hit pavement again. Nodding in agreement, he fell in behind me after I made sure he knew the basics of trail riding, and off we went.

Out the driveway and to the right, we only had to dodge a couple of downed old snags that had fallen. The path to take was right, then left, then right, and right and that would take us across an airstrip and on to Hollywood. Trying not to stare at the destruction I passed, we hurried along in third gear, spinning up dust and mud on the gravel road. The most recently developed housing project to our west had underground power, and only a couple of homes built in it so far. We made pretty danged good time, only having to go around a few spots where recent dirt work had collapsed around culverts and once around what had once been a well sculpted retaining wall. I detested riding the wheeler (or anything else for that matter) that put the machine at any kind of angle on a slope, but I managed my fears and kept going.

I slowed nearly to a stop when we reached the airstrip, checking carefully for air traffic. You just never knew when someone might be coming in for a landing, but seeing no aircraft on approach, I motored on across handily. The road surface itself was getting rougher and rougher and I wasn’t sure if it was the composition of the road itself, or whether it was due to getting closer to the fault. One last obstacle remained-the berm that had been built to keep vehicle traffic out of the private runway area. I eased to a stop and decided I had better check the tangle of stumps, dirt and gravel on foot first. Jake and I got down, and a little examination proved what I already suspected-no way to drive through on the little path other wheelers had punched through the pile. Time for a little bushwhacking, then. I had the bigger machine so I told Jake I would head out first, and putting it into first, I hooked left and began driving the taxiway looking for a path through the trees. Eventually I found what looked like a game trail and nosed in. It was pretty rough going and I was braking off dead spruce debris and pushing down birch sucker bushes with the machine, my head, my arms, you name it. It was a lot of work, horsing around the handlebars and I was pretty well used up, energy wise, by the time I found a way back to the road. With a wave forward, I sped off down the gravel road to Hollywood Road, Jake hot on my heels. We braked to a stop at what remained of the paved road, to say our goodbyes. I told Jake how to get around to the Parks Highway if he couldn’t get through the swamps along Vine Road to home, and with thanks, a smile and a wave, he throttled up and was gone in a cloud of dust.

[nancy1340]

Almost? Why do I get the feeling it's not going to be that easy?

Thanks, you had me holding my breath a few times there.

[suvalley]

It's okay so far? Not too boring?

[nancy1340]

Are you crazy?

I like it very much. Now get back to work on it. ;D

[suvalley]

Chapter Five

I took a minute to gather my thoughts. The path to Hollywood wasn’t too bad, except for the trail I had punched through the trees. I knew I would have to find Joey and get back through that before dark or we’d have trouble for sure. The spongy, bumpy surface of the mosses under the trees would be very hard to manage with only headlights. I opened a bottle of water and had a long, satisfying drink, then replaced the cap and stuffed it back in the front ditty bag for safekeeping. The ditty bag carried fire starting supplies, vacuum sealed trail mix, a tiny tool kit, and a couple space blankets, lighter and nylon cord. And a little protection too. It was 5:15. With a rising surge of fear, I popped the machine into gear and made the left onto Hollywood Road, to find my son.


I was not sure I could make it all the way to the school. The road went through two longish stretches of swampy land, very low, with major spots of frost heaves here and there across them. I vaguely remembered my hub telling me there was a way around the swamps, but I had never done it except in the dark, on a snow machine in the winter. I had no idea how to get around them to the south and besides, I had told Joey several times to stay with the road. So the road it was, no matter what. I was moving along at a fairly good pace, all things considered. Only one major obstacle before the first swamp which was yet another downed power line. The entire line had come down across the road and had taken several more poles with it. With no sparks showing I had no way to know if it was still energized, but I couldn’t risk electrocution either. I was forced to go up some ones’ driveway and across their manicured lawn area, around their sheds, one garage and through a fence to get around that one, but soon enough I was back on the pavement. I passed several trucks and cars that I waved at but the drivers were too intense on where they were going to pay me much mind. Looking behind I could see them stopping at the downed lines, and figured they were stopped for good. I didn’t know of a way around at that spot, not in a truck or car.

The images of the destruction I had seen so far began to jumble up in my mind, and with mental effort, I pushed them aside and away. I needed to concentrate on where I was going, period. I knew I had told Joey to stay with the road. To walk it if he had to, and to not worry, there would be other people walking too, I was sure of it. But still, what if the school had collapsed with him inside it? I brushed that fear aside too, and kept going.

The biggest section of swamp was a challenge-the entire road surface was busted up and cracked, and some spots had sunk, while others had sprung upwards with the force of the quake. There were pools of water here and there, uprooted muskeg, and several trucks and cars mired in the mess. I saw a couple people on foot, picking their way through. On the far side, I could see a group of people gathered, but they were too far away for me to determine much. My eyes were drawn to another small group about one third of the way across. Kids! And a couple adults too, at least a couple dozen kids were very slowly making their way around and through the mess. I turned off the wheeler to wait it out, as I was not entirely sure I could make it across without becoming stuck. A winch does you no good if you have nothing to attach it to and there were no trees of any size anywhere on the swampy area.

Holding hands, some falling, some wailing, the group merged with another, and after what seemed like forever, they got closer and closer to firmer ground. I was desperately scanning the kids when I saw a gawky movement I knew only too well-Joey! Thank God, he was okay! Finally I could not help myself and bounded off the machine, slogging into the mess yelling his name. His face turned upwards to me and split into a huge smile and I knew, knew, all was right with my world, no matter what else happened. The sound of his voice calling “Mom, Mom, Mommy!” with a thread of panic rose in my ears until I pulled him forward into my arms. Hugging each other tightly, I was oblivious to the small crowd gathering as the tears began to fall. Sobbing, I could only hang onto him, clutching his thin, strong body in a tight embrace, reassuring him we’re okay, it’s okay, we’re alright, he was safe….none of which I knew to be true of course.

Eventually I heard his voice scolding me, to let go Mom, and I did. With one arm still around his shoulders, I became aware of our audience. A sorrier group of muddy, disheveled and upset kids you never saw, along with three adults who looked beyond tired. Nearly as one, they all began talking, with voices getting louder and more frantic and eventually I was forced to yell “Quiet!” at the top of my lungs to get them to settle down and be still. Mouths agape, the kids crowded into a huddle, and I turned to the adults. It turned out that there were two teachers and another guy who lived along Hollywood Road.

Steve, who lived on Hollywood, introduced himself and asked about damage back along the road. When he described his place to me, I was happy to reassure him that his place looked pretty much okay. The two teachers were a different story-one lived two miles from my place towards Wasilla on KGB and the other on the far side of Wasilla. The kids mostly lived along Hollywood with my Joey being the furthest distance out from Big Lake. With a bit more discussion it was decided that we’d put the smallest three kids on the back of my wheeler, and we’d all deliver the girls and boys as best we could to their homes. Several didn’t know their addresses but knew which roads they lived on, but several happened to be siblings who knew the way.

We began the slow trek towards home around six pm. I knew it would be getting dark in an hour or two, but hoped for a long twilight to help. With the wheeler in four low and first, I idled alongside the adults, braking occasionally as one or another of the kids stumbled or slowed. Sharon, the student teacher aide who had shepherded the children away from the school grounds, was very concerned about one six year old who seemed to be shocky to her. He was having trouble walking and I suggested just sitting him on the front box of the wheeler for the time being, so we could all make better time. Gary, the 4th grade teacher who had also escaped unhurt, had caught up with the group only a block or so from the school, and he had suggested walking them all home. His sense of responsibility was strong and while we all knew that maybe they didn’t have homes to go any longer, that we should try. After about five minutes, I gave up the wheeler to Joey so we could pile on more kids to make better time. With Joey driving and two behind him, we got three of the youngest on the back, and two up front, I am sure it would have horrified any safety zealot but what else could we do? Leave them behind?

Steve offered up his passenger van if it was accessible, but I had to tell him about the one downed line across the road, two or three miles back. He thought he knew how to get around it though, so that was something. As we came across side roads, one or two children would peel off from the group, with Sharon or Gary accompanying them to their houses. We’d all wait for them to return. During these periods, I learned about earthquake from shocked and frightened kids, and it wasn’t a good thing. Not at all.

Everyone in our group had been outside at recess after lunch. Luckily this had meant they all had their coats and boots on, but none had their backpacks or day bags. When the ground started shaking someone had yelled out to get away from the building, and they dashed out into the middle of the playground for safety. Hanging onto whatever they could, the play equipment and each other, they watched their school collapse into a pile of rubble right before their eyes. With a pang of dismay and fear, I realized that the majority of the people in the building were probably lost. Shocked myself, I listened to jumbled sentences describing the damage and was surprised to hear that not everyone had died in the structure-many people had made their way out somehow, and some were injured and had just staggered out and fallen. Seeing their fearful faces, I knew I needed to put a stop to reliving that, somehow. Unbidden, an old show tune from a movie musical popped out of my mouth…..one all the kids knew.

“Doe, a deer, a female deer……ray, a drop of golden sun….me, a name I call myself………” and before I knew it, most of the children were warbling along with me, even if we didn’t recall all the words. Under the chorus of high pitched voices I heard someone sobbing, and turned to find a young girl, maybe all of seven years old who had been on the wheeler, just bawling her eyes out.

“Oh honey, you’re okay, you’re okay” I said as I picked her up and held her. Her tiny hands clutched onto my shoulders as sob after heaving sob wracked her tiny body and it was all I could do not to give in and bawl with her, really. “My mommy, my mommy, I want my mommy” she cried, and it struck deep into my heart, the longing, love and fear there in her fragile voice. Stroking her tangled hair, I carefully sat her back down and gently removed her hands, clasping them in mine. Hoping for just the right words and tone, I asked her if her Mommy thought she was a big girl. A pause and a slight nod, a swipe at the runny nose. With a little cajoling I managed to calm her fears just enough that she subsided into sniffling hiccoughs. I rummaged into the ditty bag and fetched out the water bottle and gave her a small drink. With a chorus of “I’m thirsty too!” in my ears, I told Joey to get the other water bottle and that everyone needed a small drink-that was all the water I had. I saved a few swigs worth for the adults and handed that out to Steve and Sharon on their return. That made eleven down and over a dozen to go. Gary said the next stop should take care of 8 or 9 of them, he thought.

With instructions not to go into damaged houses ringing in their ears, off they went on foot, a straggly line of shell shocked elementary age kids. Gary hoofed it along side since the first house up the road would allow him to look down hill to the rest easy enough. We’d told the kids to stay at whichever house had a parent or was not hurt by the quake and the three 5th graders agreed to take care of them as best they could. I told them there was no power so not to flush the toilets, and to fill all containers with water that they could find. I asked the older kids to make sure they found the gas meters, and described how to turn them off. If they couldn’t turn it off, they shouldn’t stay in the house, no matter what. With nods all around and goodbyes said, I watched them strike off on their own, scared but determined. After a few minutes, Gary came striding back and said that it looked like three of the houses were safe enough, and two had parents at home. Okay good, the children had supervision and someone to care for them.

That left three, plus Joey. The sun was going down, and a chill began to settle with the clear skies. As we’d made our way along the road, we’d heard various sirens and horns, including what could only have been the tsunami warning system which was automated. We could see smoke rising from various fires too, but had not had any aftershocks that could be felt easily. Walking up the slight grade to the last drop off point for the kids, I was left with my thoughts jittering between my friends and family’s safety and getting back home before true dark.

With a jolt, I realized everyone else had come to a stop, the wheeler silent. It was Steve’s place and he trotted on up the drive and was back in a few seconds. I was relieved to hear that his passenger van was okay and not blocked by anything. I tried to think how to tell him to go around the snarl at KGB and Vine, when it dawned on me, all I needed was pencil and paper and I could draw him a map. He had generously offered to shuffle everyone else home as far as he could make it. In another couple of minutes I had sketched out the subdivision go around as best I could, and lined out some passable wide trails, just in case. Joey added a short cut I didn’t know about too, but I described the issue with the creek as best I could and told them I suspected they couldn’t get through Wasilla proper using the highway since it lay between the two lakes.

With hugs all around, we parted ways and that left just Joey and I with the wheeler. Nodding him to the back behind me, I threw a leg over and we were off for home. The return was much faster, because I knew the way very well. Making the right off Hollywood I took note of the fancy McMansion set back off the corner there, and saw that the imposing front pillars had come down, bringing along a good portion of the façade with it. Part of the attached garage roof had fallen in, but there didn’t seem to be anyone about. Joey was gesturing to my right at the sight when we hit a sizable bump that darned near tossed us both off. I downshifted as quick as my foot could work the pedal, applying the brakes sharply. Which threw Joey into my back with enough force to knock me forward too-I barely missed losing some teeth on the handle bars as we skidded to a stop.

Aftershock, I realized. The ground heaved and rolled around us, tilting the wheeler this way and that, as we hung on tightly. The tree tops were whipping back and forth and I wondered that they didn’t just snap right off with the force. After what seemed like forever, but was probably less then a minute, it eased off to a quiver. In fact, it felt just like you’d think it would be, if you were standing on jello, very unnerving, and I was back to hyperventilating by the time it ended. I came back to my wits, realizing Joey had a strangle hold on my middle, and he was crying too. I couldn’t help it, I joined him and there we sat, crying, almost home in the middle of the gravel road in the almost dark.

After a time, I felt drained and tired, yet somehow better too. “Okay, Joe, time to get for home, alright?” I said, and got a snotty, muffled “Okay, Mom” in return. With that, I put the ATV into gear and we were off. With a bit of dodging and ducking we made the detour around the berm much faster then I had managed on the way out. Then, I blasted for home as fast as my waning bravery would let me go. With great relief I pulled into the driveway and downshifted to a stop. Putting it in neutral, we both got off and I felt my knees buckle from the stress. Flinging an arm out to Joey, he caught me up and said “It’ll be okay Mom, we’re home” and I smiled at the irony.

[nhdreamer]

I'm loving this story. Thank you!

[nancy1340]

Thank you for a great chapter.

[kaijafon]

good story! hope you keep it up

[violet]

I was NOT ready for this chapter to end. Thanks for a great story.

[suvalley]

Oh I am not done.....just getting started Will be on and offline over the weekend.

[suvalley]

Chapter Six


It took only a few minutes to get the wheeler safely tucked inside the garage for the night. Joey had the normal joyous reunion with the dogs, and I asked him to take them out. My first thing to do was to stoke the woodstove and I gave mental thanks that we’d had it installed several years previously. With the garage door up, I could see well enough to bring in a few armloads, and carefully raked together the coals and added wood. Leaving the door ajar so it would take off faster, I looked around my living room and kitchen-so familiar and comforting. Within a few minutes, Joey and the dogs were back inside and we’d pulled the garage door down too.

Checking out the window, I knew we only had a little while to go until full dark, and we needed light. I brought out an oil lamp we had used in the past and gave it a quick check over. For the life of me I couldn’t remember where I had last seen the bottle of lamp oil, but Joey remembered and dug it out of the bottom of a curio type cabinet. Pulling off the glass chimney I set it carefully on the kitchen counter and removed the wick base. I filled up the medium sized base, replaced the wick, and told Joey we had to wait for the wick to soak up the fuel before we lit it.

Then came the questions, tumbling out one after the other from Joey. About the quake, was Dad okay, was the world going to end, what happened to everyone else, when would we have electricity again-on and on they went, each thing he needed to be reassured on somehow. I was trying my best to answer this onslaught when I finally realized it was natural, he was frightened and worried, just like I was. I suggested we get in a vehicle and listen to the news, so we’d both know and he was out the door in a flash. Closing the damper on the wood stove, I followed along, shutting the dogs inside behind me. By the time I made my way across the gravel walkway from the front door, he was already in the truck and had the key turned on to listen.

“….Emergency Broadcast System. Stay tuned for further updates, every fifteen minutes.”

The familiar tones of KFQD were heard, and over the air I heard news that made my heart sink and stomach turn……

“John Wilson here, at 750 KFQD, here are the latest updates that we have been able to learn. From the state emergency services agencies, here is a list of damage from today’s earthquake. Keep in mind that damage assessment is still being done and that all emergency personnel are responding to our disaster. There is widespread damage and we don’t know the extent as yet, but we will stay on the air until we run out of diesel for the generator here.

First, the Beluga power plant has suffered major damage, and is offline. It seems the major transmission lines across the Susitna or Little Susitna River are down, with two of the tree main towers fallen over-this according to a passing pilot. The Glenn Highway north to the Valley and points beyond is impassable, as the Eagle River bridges have collapsed, as well as two of the main overpasses. Several areas have had landslides, and others have collapsed into sink holes or cracks. Another pilot reports that a number of vehicles are stranded between the Knik Arm bridges on the Glenn, at least one of which has fallen into the river below.
The Port of Anchorage is reporting serious damage to the newly designed and constructed areas, with no idea when they might be able to accept ships. Ted Stevens International Airport is closed, due to the main runway being severely damaged, and flights are being diverted to Fairbanks, the Kenai and Juneau where possible. Merrill Field has moderate damage and two runways are operable. Several other air strips around town are also okay, but Lake Hood near Ted Stevens is closed”

“To the north, the highway crossing of the Parks at Houston near the Little Susitna is, well, just gone. Several bridges over creeks to the north have suffered damage as well and will have to be inspected for safety before opening again. It goes without saying that the Alaska Railroad is down as well, with many miles of disrupted and damaged track to replace and rebuild.”



To all Chugach Power and Enstar Natural Gas customers, I have heard from both. Chugach has every available emergency repair person working to restore power, but urges everyone to be patient and to turn off their meter bases as soon as possible. Enstar is telling us that their main lines have been severed in several places and that they have crews working on getting to them so repairs can begin. As a safety measure, everyone is being urged to turn off their gas supply at the meter. Neither utility has any idea of when they might be able to restore services, since the damage is so widespread”

I reached out and turned off the radio, plunging the cab into silence.

“Wow” said Joey, “what does all that mean, Mom?”

“It means, kiddo, it’s going to be a long time before everything is fixed”

“How long?” he asked.

“Way longer than we want it to, honey, way longer” was all I could think to say. With that, we headed into the house in the darkening night. Asking Joey to find the strike matches for me, I checked the oil lamp. Tilting the wick at an angle I could see it looked shiny, so I was hopeful it would light. Taking the box of matches from him, I struck one against the side and carefully held to the wick. It was a new looking one, and it blazed into light. I carefully replaced the glass and fiddled with the setting, eventually finding the right spot to give us a nice warm circle of light. Joey’s eyes lit up as they met mine, and he scampered off to get more lamps.

In short order we had four of them going, and my thoughts turned to feeding the ever hungry, growing boy. First order of business, eat up what is in the fridge of course. Amid the bottles and jars of condiments were a couple gallons of milk, some lunch meats, a few stray vegetables, and the beef I had taken out that morning to thaw for dinner. Pushing that aside, I snagged onto the lunch meat and constructed a couple of sandwiches for us both, which we bolted down in no time flat. I told Joey to make sure he did not open the fridge for any reason, or the freezer either, and sent him off to get the water bottles out of the truck. I was pretty sure everything would be okay for a few days, or at least until the next day and I turned my attention to the house itself.

With the lamps casting a glow on the drywall, I checked the house over carefully. The window in Joey’s room was cracked with even a shard missing and his toys and whatnot had tumbled down into the center of the room. With his help, we gathered up his blankets and quilt and carried them to the living room, shutting the door behind us. Next down the hall was the guest bathroom, and it looked okay, just the rod holding the shower curtain had come loose. After that was the spare bedroom we called the office-but which really served as the computer room and the catchall for everything else. The bookcase had fallen over, and a pile of debris blocked the door part way. The computer itself might be okay, but the monitor had slipped off the shelf and was leaning backwards, with a mountain of papers flung everywhere. The window looked to be out of the jamb from what I could see, so I asked Joey to climb in, and drop the pleated shade and that room too, was closed off. I didn’t even bother with the laundry room other than to make sure I had no spilled bleach-and I didn’t.

The master bedroom looked just as messy as I had left it, with the addition of the flat screen TV which had fallen forward and was leaning up against the foot of the bed. Miraculously, it wasn’t broken and with Joey’s help we got it up and back on the stand in one piece. The only reason the free standing mirror hadn’t crashed to the floor, was the amount of clean laundry I had piled up in front over the weekend, as luck would have it. That too, was righted and put back in place. Behind the door stood the shotgun as usual, and on impulse I carried that back to the living room to keep near at hand.

With the dogs following us on our little inspection tour, I hadn’t really been paying attention to something that was bothering me. And it dawned on me, where were the cats? I stopped in my tracks in the center of the living room and voiced the question out loud. Joey immediately began calling for them both, and sure enough, out they came-Belle from the bedroom and Juice from under the kitchen table. And there we were, complete, my family. Almost.

I checked my watch as saw that it was nearly 8:30 already, where had the time gone? Joey and I decided to bed down on the couch for the night and he was busily arranging pillows and blankets when the thought struck me-I had forgot to check on Linda, the neighbor down the road. I told Joey what I had to do, and asked if he felt okay staying behind with the dogs? In a quavering voice he blurted out that he didn’t want to stay, really, but would as long as I came right back. Promising to return as fast as I could, I shrugged into my jacket and told Joey I would just walk it, it wasn’t far. Maybe 20 minutes, I promised him, and myself. Grabbing a ball cap off the stand and putting the shotgun over my shoulder, I was out the front door and halfway there before I knew it. With no electricity it was rather dark, but there was enough moonlight to keep me out of the muddiest spots as I broke into a jog back down the road. Getting too old for this, I told myself as I was forced to drop back into a walk to catch my breath. Too old, too out of shape, too fat to be running around on foot in the dark, I gave myself a good scolding on the way over. As I cleared the shrubbery and looked, I could see the motor home was up and running, with lights on. I didn’t hear the generator going, so it had to be running off battery, and I was thinking whether or not that was a good idea as I shouted out a loud “Hello the house!” After a few seconds of no response I yelled for my neighbor, adding who it was. A couple seconds later I heard her voice from the depths of their garage area.

Wide eyed and fearful, she was still her friendly outgoing self. A warm greeting and a “thank God we’re okay” moment behind us, I could tell she was very worried. With a hug and a squeeze to settle us down, I learned she’d been home when the quake struck. Her husband had been on his way home from Anchorage, she had not seen or heard from him. I asked her if she was set for roughing it for the night in the motor home, and she assured me she was, and had been listening to the radio reports all afternoon. I gave a brief recount of my trip home and finding Joey unharmed and on foot. I offered my place if she wanted to come, but she was firm in staying put since the rest of her family was sure to come looking for her. I made the suggestion that she bundle up for the night, and turn off the lights in the motor home to save the batteries and called it good. I promised to check in on her the next day, said my goodbyes, and turned around for home.

As I was walking back, the events of the day rolled over me, image after image and I was pretty well rattled by the time I got back to my driveway. I stopped at the truck and grabbed out the two cell phones, just in case. The big dog must have heard my steps as he gave out a bellowing series of barks announcing my arrival. The front door flew open and both dogs were out with Joey hollering at them, and me trying to stay on my feet as the big dog bounded forward into me, nearly knocking me down. It was a scramble getting everyone back inside and me too, without a spill, but we managed. Joey plowed into me for a hug and fiercely held on until I could pry his arms loose.

Joey had piled blankets on the couch and closed all the curtains and I agreed we’d both sleep there. With two lamps on the kitchen counter, one on the dining table and one placed in the center of the living room table, there was plenty of light to see clearly around the two rooms. As we were settling down, having shed coats and shoes, I thought to ask Joey to find me a notebook and a pen too. In a couple minutes he was back, and handed them over. Snuggling in under my arm, he asked what I was going to write, and I told him I needed to think about what we needed to do. That we were going to be roughing it here at home for a long time, and that we had an awful lot to get done to make it. I got up to turn off all but one of the lamps, which I turned down to a soft glow.

With that, I began organizing in my mind what should be priorities. In less than ten minutes I had filled a couple pages and was still writing when I realized everyone else around was sound asleep. Joey was laying alongside me, with the big dog curled up at his feet. Little Jethro had found a spot across his stomach, and both cats were on back of the couch where I could reach up and pet them easily, one on each side of my head. I smiled to myself, feeling contentment wash over me as I fell into a deep sleep.

[suvalley]

Chapter Seven

I startled awake, with images of dancing trees and snaking power lines in my mind, feeling somehow trapped and overheated. As my eyes came into focus I realized that I was still on the couch, smothered between the animals and Joey too. Casting my eyes to the windows, I could see that there was some daylight out side, and struggled out of the cocoon of blankets and to my feet. Dooms raised his head and then dropped it, obviously in no hurry to get up. Jethro of course, had bounced right down and was watching me expectantly. With a groggy yawn and a stretch that brought a wince from sore muscles, I mentally shook myself somewhat awake. I sure wanted some coffee. And I needed to take a leak too. I stood there in indecision, debating whether or not to use the toilet, or to pick a spot outside. Inside it was, but no flushing. I dropped the lid on the toilet and began thinking how to make coffee as I brushed my teeth and ran a brush through my hair.

I knew that somewhere in the jumbled mess that was the pantry, was a regular perk type coffee pot. I just had to find it, and get some heat under it. But first, the animals and the woodstove. Lighting an oil lamp, I carried it to the garage, and found a spot on the shelves for it by moving aside the milk crate stuffed full of gloves. Turning it up a bit, it gave plenty of light for that chore. I made several trips to the wood box, and in a few minutes had the fire going pretty well. Turning down the damper part way, I started putting on my hiking boots, and found the two dogs right in front of me, wagging tails and ready to go out. Joey was still soundly asleep and I wanted to let him sleep as long as he needed. Finding my coat, I got that on, found the leash for the big dog, and threaded my way through the mess in the garage to the side door.

I discovered that the new little creek on the drainage spot to the barn had frozen overnight, so it was pretty much dry boots all the way to the barn. There, my horse was awaiting breakfast and I hurriedly parceled out hay after tying the big dog to a stall door. I checked the stock tanks and saw that the insulated tanks had not frozen over as yet, peeked in on the chickens (who were quietly roosted in their coop, thank heavens) and made my way back in the growing light. Back in the garage, I found myself staring blankly at the shelves, when my eyes snapped back into focus and with a mental “Eureka!” I hurried over to grab the propane burner off the shelf. In excitement, I darn near took a header by tripping over the big dog, but managed to catch myself in time. For some reason I had thought that the burner was buried in the storage container, but I was sure glad it wasn’t. With that, a propane tank, and something to set it on, I was in business. In a few minutes I had it rigged up outside the garage door on the gravel. It took quite a bit of muscle to get the propane tank off the delivery truck but I managed without dropping it more than a foot or so. Still, it was awkward dragging it across the frozen ground, but eventually I had everything together and went back inside to find the fixings.

Joey was just stirring awake, and I told him what I was doing. With a mumbled okay, he snuggled back down into the blankets as I checked the damper on the woodstove. Yep, up into active range and with that, I closed the damper down for the day. Using the lamp, I found part of the coffee pot on the floor of the pantry and the rest still up in the cabinet. Oh yay, I thought to myself, as I rooted around in the pantry cupboard for a can of ground coffee. Eventually I found it on the bottom shelf in the back, and fished it out. Carrying this treasure out to the burner, I set it down and then was faced with the biggest issue we had: Water.

I knew there were only so many gallons in the hot water tank, and the pressure tank. Maybe a hundred if I was lucky. I was going to have to be very careful about water, since it seemed likely that it would be weeks before we got power restored, if not longer. No power, no well. With resolve to tackle that the very first thing, I chose to draw water off the hot water tank from the pantry first. I knew it held around 60 gallons or so, and was going to be our only hot water for a few days. I carefully filled the coffee pot to the mark, not wasting a drop and in a few minutes I had a flame under it, on the put together cook table. Ducking back inside I found Joey fully awake, and a bit subdued. I told him to get dressed as we needed breakfast to fuel all the work ahead.

Inside of fifteen minutes I had a steaming cup of coffee in hand, ready to check over the list I had started the night before. With the curtains up, there wasn’t any need for a lamp so I dialed down the wick, and pulled the notebook over to me. Joey asked about breakfast and I told him to go ahead and have cereal as the milk wouldn’t keep very long. I heard him gathering his bowl and spoon, the door to the fridge open and close and shortly afterwards, sounds of his crunching carried across the room. As he ate, I gave my list a careful read, and realized I hadn’t even thought of water the night before.

Flipping over to a blank page, I wrote down how much water I thought I might need for every day. Up to 20 gallons for the horse, one gallon for chickens, half gallon or more for the dogs, then some for the cats too. Cooking, who knows. Cleaning up, three to five. All my veggie starts needed nearly 20 gallons a day and would need more as they grew too. With a sinking feeling, I realized I needed nearly fifty gallons a day, every day, for who knew how long. I had a full water barrel in the pantry so that would hold me for three or four days, and the stock tanks were full-good for a week or ten days, but after that, I better have a plan. And a good one. And some way to store it too. Not only that, but I needed to process everything out of the freezer possible. Which would take umpteen gallons of water, I had no idea how much, but a lot. Overwhelmed with this dilemma, I pushed the notebook away and caught Joey heading to the bathroom. I had to tell him if he had to pee, to go outside even if it was cold out. Rolling his eyes at me, he got on a jacket, stuffed his feet into his nearly worn out winter boots and stomped out the door, leaving a pair of puzzled dogs behind. It occurred to me I needed to have a good long talk with him about the situation, and what it really meant.

With that in mind, I had him sit down at the table with me when he came back in. In typical boy fashion, he flopped down onto the chair and gave me that “what” look every mother knows so well. Clearing my throat, I informed him we had a big, big problem. Frowning, he listened as I outlined the trouble with water, and was silent for a few minutes after I asked if he could help me figure out some way to get water and lots of it. He was looking out the window to the woods, lost in thought, when he suddenly turned to me with a light in his eyes.

I knew that he was as good at solving problems in his own way as most adults, if I just gave him the leeway to figure it out. This one only took maybe two minutes as he thought through the idea, then shared it with me. I was grinning at him in pride, as he laid it all out.

First, we’d use the water barrels at the greenhouse for storage. We’d bring them up and put them under the gutters and we’d have whatever rain and melt water came our way. Second, we could lead the horse down to the swamp pond behind our property to drink if we needed to. Third, we should take the totes and put trash bags in them, put those in the back of the green four wheeler trailer. Then he could drive it down to the pond and I could siphon it up using a hose. We could then siphon it into one of the bathtubs maybe, or more totes. It was a workable solution, and I told him so. I could see a few problems with it, but wasn’t going to mention those just yet. I was so proud of him for thinking of these things, I had a smile plastered to my face and dragged him over into my lap for a hug. He deserved it.


I assured him that was what we’d do, and got to my feet for more coffee. I was just stepping outside again when I heard an ATV go past on the road beyond ours. I was somewhat happy to hear it since it meant at least some people were in the neighborhood, and we weren’t alone. But as the sound ebbed away and the quiet returned, I felt a little unease creep back in.

Remembering the mess in the pantry, I asked Joey to grab the lamp and I carefully made my way down the narrow space between the grow table and the pantry cabinets. I managed to get open the curtain on the sliding door there, and that helped me see the mess in detail. Joey got me a trash bag, a roll of paper towels and the hand brush, and I started cleaning up. A good 20 minutes later I had the floor cleared and a mental inventory of what I had lost-it could have been worse, much worse. Evidently the first jars to hit the floor had landed about the same time as some paper goods from the top of the cabinet, and that saved some that fell out the partly open doors. With Joey’s help, we unloaded the top shelves onto the floor under the grow table. I had him go find a couple empty milk crates and I used these for holding stacked pint jars instead of leaving them to fate on the slippery shelf surface. Several of the larger cooking pots had came down, bounced off the table and onto the floor, but aside from a dent or two, were okay. Luckily the heavier canners had been on the short counter and hadn’t budged, being hemmed in by sacked beans and whatnot. I looked at the cases of canning jars up above, and considered it a miracle that none of them had fallen down too, although some boxes were precariously balanced. Joey got the short step ladder from the garage and with some careful maneuvering I was able to set it up and put the cases back-after handing down at least ten to put on the floor-just in case.

The vegetable starts seemed to have survived okay, even the two flats somewhat smashed when the shop light fixture came loose on top of them. Only a few needed water, and I carefully poured water into the flats using the pitcher I kept next to the water barrel in the pantry during my grow season. The barrel was a little over three quarters full, so should be enough for another four or five days without the heat from the 600 watt HPS light above. I made a mental note that I was going to have to do something about those, too.

After that, I decided to check the radio, and was dismayed by the breadth of damage being reported. Hospitals and schools down or heavily damaged, many homes collapsed or burned down, the list of shelters being set up by the Red Cross and on and on it went. From the sounds of it, we were well and truly stranded here in the Valley, with heavy road damage in all directions with both highways impassable for who knew how long. Nothing was going to get in or out of the Ports either, not for a good long while and there was some sort of issue with the Seward Highway as well. The death count was raising, and quickly, with many areas not even reachable by emergency responders. There was also a report that the Little Susitna and a couple of creeks had changed course, causing flooding in some localized neighborhoods as they found new paths to the Knik Arm portion of Upper Cook Inlet. Overnight there had been reports of looting and sporadic gunfire was heard in Anchorage, which didn’t surprise me too much. Probably gangs, or opportunists at work and suddenly I was real glad that the roads and bridges were down. They can darn well keep them, I thought.

After that, I changed into warmer sweats and had Joey put on his snow pants and boots. We needed to check out the narrow path to the pond, see what we were up against. It was pretty rough going on foot, having to climb over a big snow bank at the back of the arena, and then on into the woods. We’d kind of tramped out a narrow pathway down there a few summers back but we didn’t have any reason to go all the way to the pond much. The snow was pretty much melted off and the moss remained fairly firm underfoot, but even so, it wasn’t an easy descent down to the pond. There were plenty of branches and brush to work through, but soon enough I could see the snow covered, frozen surface and there it was. Only an acre or two in size, it was fed entirely by spring run off and rain, there was no outlet for it that I knew about. I looked back up the hillside and realized it was going to take some trimming to get a four wheeler down it, never mind coming back up with a heavy load of water on a trailer. Not only that, but we’d need to clear out a spot down towards the bottom to turn around on too.

We trudged back up the hill to the barn, and I detoured to inspect the greenhouse and garden areas. With Joey tagging along behind, we scared up the chickens who were out exploring their new found freedom. With a squawk, they hustled back the barn as we rounded down the hill behind the greenhouse. I was none too happy with the shape that was in. From up top, looking down, everything looked pretty much okay, but from this angle I could see that the entire back end was off kilter and leaning to the side a bit. Not seriously, but definitely not level either. No cracked panels on it, and the roof was intact, which was a gift. The front doors were hanging open and I had quite the mess inside with tilted stacks of pots and trays and garden implements every which way. The riding lawn mower was okay, but it was the two water barrels I was most interested in. Aside from looking pretty nasty on the inside, they were fine, and Joey and I rolled them out to the deck. We had just crested the little hill up to the barn again when there was another aftershock.

With a scream, Joey latched onto me with a death grip as I struggled to stay on my feet with legs spread against the rolling ground. It gained strength until there was a snap-more felt than heard-and it ended. A second or so later, and the whole world felt like it was turning, for all the world like a turntable on a record player or something. Left and then back again, a sort of snaking feeling that petered away to the “jello” in a bowl effect I had felt before. That stopped too, and we just stood there, hanging onto each other.

With my son still blubbering with fear, we hightailed it to the house. Once inside, we found everything to be okay, although two of the lamps had skidded near to the edge of the tables. I had the bright idea to put a bit of the non slip shelf covering from the kitchen cabinets under them, so we spent a few minutes doing that. That seemed to settle him down some, and I suggested he just play with his toys for a while, and I would try to figure out what to do next.

I refilled my coffee cup and walked outside, for no reason really. The day was warming up rather quickly and soon it would begin to melt with the sun’s energy. Melt, melt, what was it about melting? I tossed that around for a few seconds and the memory returned. With a mental “Bingo!” I poked my head in the door and told Joey, “Screw the swamp pond, we will make our own!” Leaping to his feet, he began pelting me with questions. Smiling, I said this was a two person project and I would need his help. I explained what I wanted to do and as he saw it in his imagination, his whole face lit up like only kids can do. With “cool” and “awesome” and “You rock, Mom” ringing in my ears, we set out to build us a pond.

[suvalley]

Chapter Eight

I wasn’t really sure it would work, but what the heck, I couldn’t see letting the snow melt go to waste if I could help it. First order of business was to get the water barrels up to the house, so I sent Joey off on that chore. As he took off to get the trailer and the plastic water barrels, I strode back down the driveway to have a better look at it. On the right hand side, the land dropped away to the neighbors place, and it was heavily treed between us. Along side the driveway it was cleared back some fifteen feet and I had planted some trees there in the hopes of having a “tree lined” driveway some day. Naturally, the moose had found them irresistible and nothing but cropped down branches remained every spring. The grass seed we had thrown out had taken well hold, and there were a few baby birches coming up here and there. The main run off spot was the lowest point in the drive way of course, where my new “creek” had formed. A good three feet across and even if very shallow I knew it would carry off a lot of water in a days’ time. So the plan was to construct some sort of dam on the downhill side to catch that water for us. I had a nearly complete roll of plastic sheeting in the greenhouse and a whole bunch of spare boards and beams and several hundred pavers stacked up down there too. The trick would be finding the right combination of stuff to hold the weight of the water before it spilled over the top. Looking at the size of the snow pile, I couldn’t even imagine how much water was in it, but there were still plenty of patches of snow remaining out in the woods too, here and there under the trees. About that time, Joey appeared on the wheeler, trailer in tow, with the two water barrels in the bank. He stopped to let me hop on the back seat and in nothing flat, we were working at taking apart the gutter downspout. I had to use a screwdriver by hand, but the screws backed out easily and I carefully slid out the lower length and laid aside-just in case. I rolled the barrel under the spout and it wasn’t even close to level. I tried scuffing the ground underneath but of course it was still frozen and didn’t budge. I had Joey go back down and load up a dozen of the pavers on the trailer, and using those, was able to bridge the bumps and get a somewhat level platform for each one. I was feeling pretty good about what we’d figured out when I realized the barrels needed cleaning badly. Finding the bleach and a grabbing the liquid soap as well, I grabbed a cloth and cursing at the cold water, gave each barrel a good scrubbing. I had to wait for melted water to rinse them both which took some time, but eventually I was satisfied that we wouldn’t get sick drinking from them any time soon.

It was already nearly noon and I realized I needed to warm up and eat something. Eying what was in the fridge, I opted for a couple eggs scrambled up with the squash and cheese casserole I had left over from the other day. I found a skillet and utensils, and was out at the make shift cooking spot when I heard a vehicle turning up the road. I could hear the sound growing louder as it came on up the street, then slow, and I caught a flash of movement through the brush as it turned left onto my road.


Feeling very tense for no apparent reason, I was thrilled when it turned out to be a truck I knew very well-my neighbor Dick, Linda’s husband. The dogs let out a loud alarm, and Joey peeked out the door. With a smile I walked on out and we started answering each others questions which came tumbling out one on top of the other. He looked very tired, just about worn out, but he had thought of us alone at our house and had taken the time to come see that we were okay. Tears welled up and I stepped right over and gave him a big hug on impulse. With a final squeeze I pushed him away, wiped my face, and told him the short version of how I’d gotten home and then gone to find Joey. After thanking me for checking on his wife, he relayed his trip home. I couldn’t believe he’d made it, but eyeing the mud and dents on the big one ton truck he drove I could believe it. He’d just passed over the interchange at the Parks and Glenn when the quake struck-if he had been traveling any slower he would have been stranded down on the flats between the bridges. With a lot of effort he managed to get around the collapsed overpass at Trunk Road, on the south side, and eventually found his way over to Fairview Loop road. He tried to make it past the railroad tracks a mile in, but there was no way to get across there so he ended up working his way along Matanuska Road until he was back at the creek crossing I had been across earlier in the day. By that time, several vehicles were mired and stuck, and the approaches were pure slush and mud. With a bunch of other people helping, they got the crossing cleared. One guy had a chain saw in his truck so they felled some trees, limbed them, and laid them down crosswise in the approach. Then they just waited for the temperature to drop to freeze everything in place firmly. Along about three am, at least a dozen vehicles made the crossing in convoy. They’d found their way around the obstacles I had encountered by following other peoples’ tracks on out KGB road, but had been hung up at the Vine intersection where all the poles and lights were fouled up. With more guts than I could ever muster, the men had stopped and decided to just clear the wreckage off the road so people could get through. Using their bumpers, chains and tow straps, they were able to pull apart the entangled lights and get the hanging power pole yanked off to the side. He’d been home by five that morning, and had promptly fallen asleep, exhausted.

Joey had been anxiously hovering about, and as our conversation petered out, I asked him to get Dick some coffee if he liked, which he declined. I asked him what he planned to do, and he wasn’t really sure. They planned to wait until his adult kids showed up with their spouses, and then figure out where, or even if, to hole up until things were back to normal. I told him that I expected to have family showing up as soon as they could get here, and who knew who else would come along over time. We talked about fuel, and then water. He figured the rest of his family would probably show up later on in the day, on foot if necessary. I asked him if needed anything, and he scrubbed his chin, and said he didn’t think so. They were pretty well set with food, but my idea of the water barrels under the gutters was a good one, he was already planning on doing the same using buckets and totes. Feeling much better about having help near at hand, I watched him back out the big red diesel truck and head for home.

As I continued making our hot lunch, Joey peppered me with more questions, which I couldn’t really answer. I had no idea when the power would be back on, no idea when we’d hear from his Dad, no idea who else might show up and when, nothing. I felt pretty bad about not having answers, and just ended it by reminding him we were okay, we were smart, and we’d make it through.

Carrying the dirty dishes to the sink, I had another problem to figure out. I needed to keep some warm water handy, but couldn’t keep the propane burner going all the time either. I rooted around in the cupboard below the counter and found the thinnest aluminum pot I had, filled it with tap water, and set it carefully on top of the woodstove. There wasn’t enough room to set a large pot on there, so a gallon at a time was going to be the best I could manage. It dawned on me that an insulated cooler could keep things hot as well as cold, so I asked Joey to run up to the connex and dig out a small one from the back. Upon his return I told him what I planned to do, and said he now had a job, filling up that cooler with hot water. I set it up with the drain spout over one side of the kitchen sink, with a large metal mixing bowl under it. When I needed lots of hot water, we could heat it up on the burner or barbeque, if needed. With sanitation in mind, I realized I had another dilemma as well….what do about human waste? The toilet would still work, and we could certainly flush them using a bucket. I sent Joey back up to the barn to grab a couple empty buckets. When he returned I told him about how we would need to use the toilets, not flushing after every use. With his face scrunched up into a “euww!” expression, but I reminded him that he had to use, no matter what, the hand sanitizer every time.

While I waited for enough warm water to wash up the dishes, I poured another cup of coffee and drug a camp chair out to the front porch. Sitting down with my feet kicked out in front of me, I watched Joey herd the dogs out to do their business again. For the umpteenth time, I wished that the big dog was good for coming when he called, so I could let him loose to roam the property. We’d discovered that my semi-rescue dog basically ignored his name when he had a mind to, and no amount of firm correction with a lead seemed to work. Jethro also had a screw loose of course, and would flee to the barn with any loud sound near the house-most especially vacuums and compressors. He stuck pretty close to Joey though, and that was good enough. After that chore was handled and the dogs safely inside, I asked Joey to start loading up pavers onto the wheeler trailer. We needed to work on catching more water, and the faster the better. I was going to need a lot of water the next day, for sure. I had to start canning what was in the freezers, or I would loose it all. While he did that, I used the lukewarm water with a tiny bit of dish soap and scrubbed up the pan, utensils, and plates and set them to dry on the counter.

When I heard the wheeler pause and then turn off, I set down my cup, and walked down to our project area. I asked Joey to help me find any big rocks buried in the dead grasses, and to set them aside out of the way. It would be about ten paces wide, and if I had enough materials, an easy three foot deep or more. I had no real idea how to go about building a dam of any kind, but I had had plenty of practice using a shovel and taking runoff where it needed to go over the years. My thought was to use a mix of the pavers and scrap lumber, with braces on the downhill side, and to lay three or four thicknesses of the plastic down inside as a liner. I knew the first course or two would have to be pretty solid since that would hold the most weight and with that in mind, Joey and I set to work, laying down the pavers two and three wide. In no time at all, we’d used what he had loaded and this time, I took the wheeler down and loaded up myself. When I drove back, I could tell that we needed to level out the pavers on the downhill side somehow or other. Since there weren’t many rocks not frozen down, this was going to be a problem. I just couldn’t think what to do, and Joey asked me why I wasn’t putting more pavers down. I quickly described what the problem is, and Joey immediately gave me “Mom, you’re silly, this is easy!” to which I replied “hunh?” and with that, he was on top of the wheeler and turning around to head back to the barn. As he went by, he had a big grin on his face, and he shouted “Firewood!” and the light went off. Well doh! I thought, I have a lot of firewood. All of it split, stacked and dry too. And all of it having various angles that should work well if we wedged the narrow cut side under those pavers. In nothing flat he was back with a half dozen pieces and we set to work. We quickly figured out that we needed the smaller pieces for a good, tight fit, and he was off again, picking through what had rolled out from the quake and rummaging around through the front of the stacks too.

After a few courses of pavers were laid relatively flat across the area, I told Joey we needed to think about what to use to brace the back wall, and how to build it higher since it was obvious I didn’t have enough pavers to do the whole thing. After talking it through, we decided to use the scrap lengths of 4x4s and the loose beams we had stacked alongside the greenhouse. We’d use those, alternating with the pavers and using more firewood to brace up behind. It was some work, digging out the beams and they surely didn’t fit on the trailer very well, but eventually we had a half dozen loaded up. I paused to catch my breath, out of shape, muddy, and already feeling like I had done too much. My back was feeling pretty tight and I told Joey I was going to need a break before we finished. He drove the wheeler back to our project, and I headed on up to the house for water and some ibuprofen. Following me on foot, Joey grabbed my hand, just like he’d done as a toddler. Feeling the strength of his grip, I knew he too, was feeling rattled and scared and worried.


I was surprised to check my watch and find out it was already just after three. Where had all the time gone? With a good long drink for us both and 400 mg of ibuprofen down the hatch for me, I knew I needed to keep moving or I would stiffen up and run out of steam. With a will, we went back to work. Together, we could just barely manage the large beams and those went down first. They weren’t the right length but I sure didn’t feel up to trying to cut anything with a chain saw. They scared me silly, and I left those to people who were proficient with them. I couldn’t risk a bad injury, not now, and neither could Joey who offered to try on my behalf. Using kindling as wedges behind them, we set pavers on top of the beams, and kept going on up until we ran out of materials. It turned out to be much larger than I had thought it would be, and deeper too. I had left an opening along the back wall about four inches wide, to allow excess run off to carry over, and I had Joey set up a couple of pavers and a few rocks to set underneath that spot. Next was to figure out a brace behind the works, and the only thing I had on hand were pallets. There was a stack of them under the woodshed, that we pulled up as they were emptied of firewood. It looked like were going to need six or seven of those at least. The ever handy trailer was once again used to carry those down from the woodshed, and with much slipping and grunting, we had them leaning at an angle, tight up against the downhill side. Since the ground there was soft due to the runoff, I had the idea that we should probably figure out how to anchor them a little better, just in case. I had Joey go find the sledge hammer in the garage and I stepped carefully on the edge of our dam, and tapped the pallets down into the muck. Then, a course of firewood was banged into place under the pallets and all that remained was laying out the plastic sheeting.

There was no way Joey could manage the roll of visqueen by himself, so we both had to go, and wrestle the slippery, heavy bundle out of the greenhouse together. When it finally flopped into the trailer bed, I gave a big sigh-almost done, I thought. One more time back down to the dam, and we drug the roll off onto the driveway. Rubbing my back, I gritted my teeth as I bent over to pull out the loose end of the roll. With a little tugging and yanking, I had enough rolled out to cut, and using the utility knife from the wheeler ditty bag, I slowly made the slit. With Joey on one end, we got the visqueen unfolded, then refolded in half lengthways, and we carefully dragged it down in and across the whole works. It laid in nicely with plenty over the edges, and I watched the melt water begin to collect rather quickly so we added one more layer as a safe guard, and called it done. Hoping we hadn’t overlooked anything really sharp that would poke holes in the dam, we stood and watched it begin to fill, arms around each other’s shoulders. Five solid hours of work and I had no idea if it would hold or not.

[hickory7]

What a fabulous story. Thank You!

[fireweed]

This is a great story, good description of the area. Compared to most everyone "outside", all Alaskans are preppers. Moms really step up to the plate with dads working on the slope in normal times. I spent 11 years working on the slope and fully appreciate what moms do to keep every thing going.

[suvalley]

I thank you, fireweed More to come, I promise.........

[suvalley]

Chapter Nine

Well okay then, I thought, and headed back to the house feeling pretty proud of what we had accomplished so far. Letting myself in the front door, I decided I had earned another cup of the now cold coffee. I fired up the burner and replaced the pot to get it warming, then checked the pot on the woodstove. It was much hotter than I expected, so I dumped that into the cooler, and refilled it from the tap without thinking and replaced it on the stove. I came back outside and thought I had better check the barrels, and was happy to see them three quarters full. With the sun dropping lower in the sky I knew it wouldn’t be much longer and it would start to freeze, so I yelled for Joey to come on up. As I looked at the surface of the water in the barrels, I realized I had better find something to set over the top for the night. Casting around outside I didn’t find anything useful near to the house, so I rummaged around in the garage and discovered several smallish pieces of paneling tucked back behind some tools in the corner. They’d work perfectly, and keep leaves, critters and whatnot out when it wasn’t melting or raining.

With another cup of coffee in hand I told Joey we had one last thing to do outside, and that was the barn. The lead snapped on the big dog with Joey in tow and Jethro at my heels, we headed back up for the evening chores. It only took a couple minutes to get everyone settled for the night, and I was happy to see the chickens working their way back to the coop too. I checked their feed and added another scoop, causing them to come running up in a flurry. The big dog made a lunge at them and was pulled up short with a yell, and I sent Joey off with him for his nightly run in the arena. In a short while, the Dane had blown off his excess energy and was ready to quit for the night, tail wagging and panting happily. We tromped back toward the house and I paused at the little dam, already nearly halfway full with no sign of collapsing. Feeling pretty smug, we shared a high five and I promised a good dinner for Joey’s hard work.

As I came up the bank, it dawned on me I had one more big physical chore to get done, and I had to do it tomorrow morning for sure. The hay. There it sat on the diesel delivery truck, uncovered, over a ton. Enough hay for three or four months if I was careful, and with what I had still in the barn, I could stretch it lots further if I could find grass to graze on at green up. I had been lucky there hadn’t been a heavy frost overnight and with that in mind, I dug around inside the garage and found a tarp. We got it covered, and then it was time for dinner.
Thank heavens for cast iron, I thought, as I carefully tended our two steaks. I had already nearly burnt the pot of rice on the burner, and it was now on the woodstove to hopefully finish while the steaks cooked. I got out plates and glasses, and debated about a veggie. Well, Joey had worked very hard and we were both pretty hungry so I grabbed a store bought can of peas and hurriedly opened it, dumping the contents into a glass bowl. I set that on the opposite corner from the rice, and worked on getting the woodstove stoked for the night. About the time I had that done, so were the steaks and we both sat down to eat at the kitchen counter on the stools. On impulse, I grabbed his hand and recited:

“Bless us, our Lord, for our daily bread. Thank You for providing us shelter, and health, and for keeping us safe today. Amen”

Joey gave my hand a quick squeeze and thanked me for the blessing, small as it was and we both dug in. Fried steaks, lukewarm peas, and slightly crunchy rice, a feast for us and it tasted wonderful. In no time we had polished off our meal and I was done washing the plates too. I had Joey empty and refill the hot water pot, this time by dipping water out of the rain barrel instead of from the sink. I also had him fill one five gallon bucket halfway and take it to the bathroom, for flushing the toilet. Naturally I had to show him how it was done, and I managed to do so without splashing water all over the floor. With the new toilets only using a little over a gallon, I was hopeful we’d manage to keep flushing for however long it took.

I got us both washed up at the sink, using the soapy water, and told him I had no idea what we should do for the night. We were both used to watching television or a movie, or being online, and the deep quiet and falling night stretched out in front of us both. I suggested he just play with his toys for a while as I went around and lit the lamps. Dang, did we still have that unopened jug of kerosene? I asked Joey and he replied that he thought so, and it was in the connex. One more thing to tackle tomorrow since the two little bottles of lamp oil weren’t going to last very long with four lamps going.

Pouring a glass of milk from the fridge, I noticed that the interior was starting to get warmer, and poured one for Joey too. No point in letting it go to waste I thought. As I was finishing that bit of goodness, I happened to glance over and see Dooms on his feet, rigid and beginning to growl. Just as I was wondering what had him on alert, I heard another rumble begin. Fear leaping up inside me, I yelled to Joey “Another one, hang on!” As we shimmied sideways for however long it went on, we caught each others eyes in a terrified stare. Finally, it fell away to nothing and I grabbed for my son, tears springing and then falling and I wished to heck it would just stop. Just stop.

Assuring ourselves we were okay, and that nothing else had been damaged in the house, I popped out the door to check the new dam. Looking down from the bank I could see it still held so I did a u turn right there and decided I should probably get the news. I knew that there was no way to predict earthquakes, but I would sure feel a lot better if I knew what more to expect, even if it was speculation. I got in the truck and fired it up, scanning through the AM channels until I heard a voice-

“……..residents are reminded that aftershocks can be expected for up to three weeks after yesterday’s event on the Castle Mountain fault. They are beginning to drop in intensity, but those nearest to the actual fault will experience it much stronger due to the nature of the fault itself. You are reminded to stay out of damaged structures when possible, and to find a local shelter if you can.

In other news, no air traffic is going in or out of Ted Stevens International airport, although light planes are using Merrill Field and the Campbell strip. Airport officials, reached today by satellite phone, have not given us a firm date for air cargo flights to resume. The main runways and several taxiways are damaged and crews are already working to repair the damage. It could be over a week, they think, before limited flight service can resume.

Cargo ships en route to Anchorage have been diverted to other ports, such as Seward, where offloading is taking place. No word yet on when the Seward Highway might reopen, which has been closed since yesterday when numerous slides occurred as a result of the quake. That means that the rail line is closed as well.

The Department of Public Safety has all available personnel on duty, and they are helping the emergency service agencies get an aerial assessment completed. The local hospitals are working on back up generators and so are many other essential services. The utility companies both say they are working around the clock to repair the damage and get power restored. Some power is expected in a few select areas as early as tonight. Operations have resumed at the Beluga plant, but the Ship Creek and Eklutna plants remain out of service at this time. There is no word yet on when they will be back on line. Enstar has located the major breaks and is working to repair them, but without power for their compressors the gas supply is limited to what they can handle with their back up power facilities.

This is AM 750 KFQD, with you through this crisis, John Wilson reporting”


There followed a lengthy list of shelters for Anchorage, and where to find and get help for the disabled or those with medical needs. Not a word about the Valley I thought, as I flipped over to FM to find the local station, 99.7. I knew they would have power as they had a wind generator right there at the station, I had passed it on my way home yesterday, but I hadn’t given it much more than a glance at the time. After a little frantic scanning, I eventually found the station, weak and scratchy, but there.

“…….99.7 on your dial. Still with you through this emergency, reporting live from our studios on the Parks Highway. As you know, we are continuing to experience aftershocks, including the three yesterday which were over magnitude 7. I have not been able to reach the Alaska Tsunami Warning Center in Palmer yet for the latest report, but I will as soon as possible. The previous aftershock today was given a preliminary measure of 6.8.

The Alaska State Troopers and the Dept. of Public Safety are urging residents to use extreme caution when attempting to travel. Many roads have severe damage and most bridges are not safe, or collapsed. They are asking you all to stay home, or to get home on foot and stay there, while work crews and FEMA representatives attempt to assess the damage. This morning, work began on clearing the Parks and Glenn Highways, from the hay flats. It is not known how long that work will take and when the highways will reopen. Roadblocks are being set up at damaged points, to keep drivers from harm. They urge everyone to have patience, and to help your neighbors if they need it.

All schools and public offices, except emergency services, remain closed. A number of schools have been severely damaged if not totally destroyed. Nearly all retail stores in the Valley are closed, and only a handful of gas stations are open with backup generators on line for limited hours. I will get to those at the end of this recap, stay tuned.

Our thanks go out again to the good people of the Valley for providing communication and information for us to broadcast. Because of their generosity, I am able to provide a list of shelters the local Red Cross is setting up”.

I listened to the list of shelters, the pleas for help, and the damages, the dead and missing numbers known so far, and was sick to my stomach. It was pretty easy to figure out that the entire fault had cut loose, with most of the severe damage between Meadowlakes and South Big Lake. Right across the Parks Highway of course, and until the bridges were rebuilt on the hay flats at the Knik Arm, we were completely cut off by road.

I thought of my husband, stranded on the Slope and unable to leave. I thought of my sister, and wondered if she had made it to safety. And Karen out at the Point, and on and on, I ran the names and faces of family and friends through my mind and worried, were they okay? Were they injured? Were they even alive?

Laying my head back, I again felt overwhelmed and near to having another panic attack. I gripped the steering wheel tightly, and made a little vow to myself to get over it, grow up, no time for being foolish, you are on your own, and you have Joey and that’s that. Enough wallowing, get busy, just do something.

With that, I got out of the truck to notice Joey had put on a coat and come outside. He had been watching me have my little melt down, and his expression showed how worried he was too. With a mental kick, I realized that I couldn’t give in when he needed me to be strong, no matter what, and I smiled and said “Let’s go do something smart, shall we?” and into the house we went.

I needed ice, as much ice as I could figure out how to make, because I was going to have to dig into the freezers the next day. Since it was still below freezing at night, all I needed were containers and plastic bags and whatever coolers we had left. I told Joey my plan, and he brightened right up. Making yet one more trip to the connex, he returned with the three smaller coolers, and our big one. Grabbing a box of gallon ziplock bags, I set him to work filling those from the barrels, while I rooted around to find smaller boxes in the house. The dogs were on my heels and getting on my nerves by the time I found an even dozen receptacles that would work-shoe boxes, toy boxes, even the box that had held the file folders would work. I rapidly opened up a bunch of kitchen trash bags and set to work doubling them, then filling them with water. Each was set outside the garage door where it was fairly flat, and we laid out our array of bags too.

By the time we got done fiddling with that, it was about 7:30. On a hunch, I got out my cell phone, hoping I would hear from my husband. Normally, he called between 7:30 and 8, and I knew he must be beside himself with worry about us both. Turning it on, I tried my sisters’ number, and got a recorded message that the systems were busy. My call to my husbands phone would not even go through. I was hoping that meant they were actually working, but wasn’t sure. I slid the phone carefully into the front shirt pocket of my insulated work shirt, and went about stoking the woodstove for the evening. We’d need to bring in a lot more over the next couple days, before the driveway surface gave way to complete muck I realized. Yet another thing to tend on what seemed to be a growing list of “must get done” chores.

Even in a disaster, some chores just never go away. Joey still had to feed and water the dogs and cats, and I took a better look at our supplies in that area. The cats would be okay I knew, because I could cut back their kibble quite a bit and parcel out the canned food-I’d be good for months that way if they did a bit of hunting too. The dog food was a different issue entirely, with only maybe two months’ worth on hand. Because of this, I had to make the really hard decision of reducing the kibble I put down quite a bit. Dooms went right to work chomping up his dinner, but Jethro just picked daintily as he always did. Refilling the water bowls from the barrel, they were set until morning too. I had only a half bag of kitty litter left and knew I would have to just pick it up and force the cats to find someplace outside to do their business.

Telling Joey that having no power didn’t mean he didn’t need to brush his teeth, I flopped down on the couch. In a couple seconds, both dogs had jumped up for attention and I realized they were anxious too. Giving them my full attention, I almost missed the muffled sound of cell phone tones. With my heart leaping, I fumbled it out of the pocket, and promptly dropped it on the dog-who of course bolted off the couch, sending the phone flying. I scrambled to my feet and dove across the carpet for it, snatching it up on the third ring. I pressed the button and heard nothing but static over my panting. I was shouting, I confess, and Joey came running in to see what was going on. Mouthing “Dad” to him, I turned my attention back to the phone. All I heard was a hiss and then silence, the call was dropped. Hopes crushed, we both stared at the phone for a good ten minutes, willing it to ring, to no avail. It dawned on me, it might not have been Dad after all, and picking it up I tried to make out who had called. I couldn’t see the numbers very well without reading glasses, but Joey was able to make out that it had been my sister. With relief, I felt a weight ease off my mind, knowing she was okay, somewhere. When 8 o’clock rolled around, I turned it back off.

With the lamps lit, I remembered I hadn’t dug around for the kerosene like I should have, and that prompted me to grab the notebook and write down a reminder. Hay, kerosene, water for the chickens. Break ice on stock tanks. Dig out free standing double burner and whatever else I needed to hook up propane bottles to them. Start moving stuff from the big freezer into coolers, and set those on the north side of the house. Start canning. Check the generator, which was buried behind a bunch of stuff in the garage. I was just beginning to detail out the clean up that we needed to get done, when I heard an engine coming up the road. Once again, I was struck by how quiet the world had become, without the background noise of appliances, fans, and electronic gear.

Grabbing up the shotgun, just in case, I stood behind the door and peered out at the headlight beams I could see coming up the connecting road. When they slowed and then turned onto my road, my pulse jumped and about that time the dogs let loose, barking. I was yelling at Joey to quiet them down when I saw an unfamiliar truck pull into my driveway.

Oh God, I thought.