Today it started raining, and the wind shifted enough to blow the fire back into the previously burned areas, allowing firefighters to get it under control. We’re still learning how many houses were destroyed, but the fire appears to be finished now.

East End Road, where we just spent the last year taking care of sled dogs, and where we are set to move into our own house next month, is ablaze. A wildfire has burned over 1200 acres so far, and continues to rage. As of now, the damage has all been several miles further up the road from both the sled dogs and our future home. A shift of the wind could change all that.

The fire has mostly burned around mile 17 and further east, with the sled dogs and the house we’re buying at miles 15 and 13, respectively. We’ve spent the past couple of evenings with our friends Jason and Kelly, who live just past mile 15 with their own set of sled dogs, in case the area needs to be evacuated and we can lend a hand. Fortunately, the fire has only come close once so far, before getting blown back down the hill.

Last night, we watched 3 helicopters, 2 spotter planes, and a large tanker plane weave an intricate dance over the blaze. As trees would ignite and send flames shooting up into the sky, the choppers would fly overhead and dump huge buckets of water over the area. The tanker plane would circle to gain altitude, then swoop down and unleash it’s contents. Earlier in the day, Smoke Jumpers parachuted in, though I didn’t get to see that.

Several smoldering patches in the burned out area were identified as destroyed houses, though I don’t think anyone has been injured as of yet.

The fire continues to rage, so we’ll make our way back again tonight. Hopefully they’ll get it under control soon.

The end is near!

Each spring, Alaska experiences a phenomenon known as “Melt-out,” when all the collected snow finally begins to melt, sending sheets of water downhill and generally making a mucky, muddy mess out of everything. Usually this occurs near the end of April or even early May. This year, however, is different. The recent eruptions of Mt. Redoubt spread volcanic ash all over the south-central part of the state. That ash, now laying on top of much of the snow in the area, is acting like a solar blanket, transferring the heat of the sun into the normally reflective snow.

We may still have some snowfall left this year, but the damage has been done. We’re starting to see patches of ground where there has only been snow since October. It’s going to be really messy for a month, but then we get to enjoy the Alaskan summer!

The snow is doing just fine where the ash didn’t stick to it, making a big patchwork of white splotches and sunken gray sections all over the place.

It even works on a smaller scale, melting around small bits of white snow, leaving little towers.

Or leaving fragile glass-like footprints, suspended above the melting snow.

To finish up the story of the last eagle feeding last week, I was sent down by the Homer Tribune to take some pictures of the ceremony. I’m working as a freelance photographer and outdoor/sports writer for them now, so that’s pretty cool. I’ll post some scans when I get published.

Anyway, we went down to the Spit, expecting some sort of ceremony and statue for Jean Keane. What we found was more akin to a yard sale, with tables full of dwarf and frog statues, animal skulls, and wood carvings.

Unsurprisingly, since Jean fed the eagles daily, everything was covered in bird poo.

Eventually, the organizers brought out a box of fish, and started feeding the eagles. There are always a few eagles hanging out on the Spit, but within minutes of opening the box, the air was filled with dozens of giant birds. A few fish were tossed on the roof of Jeans house, and suddenly we were surrounded by swooping eagles.

Most of the fish were tossed out towards the beach, where the eagles would either swoop down and grab the fish, or land and try to grab what the swoopers missed. The wind was coming from that direction as well, so I got hit more than once by fish juice and eagle crap. Delightful!

I shot some video before switching back to stills, so here you go. Sorry about the wind noise, but that’s what it was like.

Unfortunately, none of the pictures got published, since the Trib was hoping for more memorial service and less eagle crap. Oh well.

Flash forward to yesterday. Around 6am, one of the sled dogs started barking. This particular dog is slightly neurotic about Nature, and tends to bark when the wind picks up, or if snow is falling, etc. So we just ignored him. At 7:45, I woke up and thought the light coming through the windows looked weird, so I got up and looked outside. Here’s what I saw:

My exact thoughts: “Oh…crap. Must check AVO (Alaska Volcano Observatory) site!”

Sure enough, Redoubt had erupted at 6am that morning. And not only had it erupted and spewed ash 50,000 feet into the sky, it was accompanied by thunder and lightning emanating from the ash cloud. No wonder it set off the dog! I wonder if it was as spectacular as this eruption in Argentina?

I got dressed and hurried out to feed the dogs before the ash started to fall, and finished feeding in record time. Before sealing up the house, I took a few more pictures.

This is looking northeast from the dog yard:

And this is looking southwest, towards Homer:

And another view, from the driveway, looking west:

Looks ominous, doesn’t it? Luckily, we had a steady wind coming from the northeast, which drove the ash cloud out over the bay before it could reach us! Not a single bit of ash fell on us yesterday, though Homer got hit pretty hard. We went into town last night to go a drama slam, and town looked like someone had dumped a giant bucket of dusty sand over everything.

Redoubt has now had over 5 major eruptions in the past couple of weeks, and I’ve heard that it might continue like this for months. In a week or so, we’ll be moving to a place in Anchor Point, which faces Redoubt on the coast, so I might actually get some eruption shots! (More on the move later, when I wrap up my Bucket List series)

It’s been a crazy week here in the 49th state. Monday, Mt. Redoubt finally erupted, and spewed an ash cloud over the area north of itself (Redoubt is north/northwest of us). Our boss was supposed to fly back from the Iditarod finish in Nome that day, but her flight was canceled due to the ash cloud. For some reason, the power went out shortly after the eruption, and stayed off for a few hours.

Monday night, we had high winds that drifted in our driveway, trapping me here at home for most of the day Tuesday.

I managed to make into town Wednesday morning, though it was already blowing snow when I left. While there, I received a call from the boss, who had made it to Anchorage and was boarding a flight to Homer. I went to the airport to pick her up, and watched as the pilot circled a few times in the high wind and heavy snow, contemplated the odds of crashing while landing, decided they were not in his/her favor, and then headed back to Anchorage.

By the time I returned home, I could barely see the road, and spent the last 5 miles of the drive crawling along between lulls in the wind, when the whiteout would relent for a few seconds. Skippy had gone home ahead of me, and was bearing the brunt of the storm while trying to feed the dogs and rescue the lids to their houses that the wind had blown off (yes, it was that strong!). She faced down the storm and beat it, even after being knocked flat several times by gusts of wind and flying dog house lids.

I arrived in time to help assemble kennels and move all the ice-encrusted old dogs inside. I also took some video of the storm, for your edutainment.

Here’s what it was like outside, though the wind had died down a bit by this point. As I pan to the dog yard, you might notice the blue poop sled flying in the breeze:

I moved inside, fearing for my camera’s well-being:

And this one is looking out the east window of the cabin. Don’t you just want to run outside and play?

This morning broke calm and clear. As is typical after a snow storm, we found that most of our paths had been drifted over, making walking anywhere a chore until we get them packed down again. Also, this is our driveway.

The drift was over 5′ high in places, leaving a narrow path to walk through. I sent the boss’s dog Bean down through it so I could at least get some perspective shots.

Also, check out the new rims Mother Nature gave Skippy’s truck:

It took most of the morning to dig out the dog houses and pull out whatever snow had blown into them. While we were out working, the plow arrived and started digging us out. The first couple of snows we had, back in October and November, the plow company sent a standard 4×4 pickup with a blade attached to the front. Now, in the depths of winter and snow banks on either side of the road that are 7′+ high, they bring something more substantial.

Around 10:30am, as I was preparing to go pick up the boss from the airport, a friend called and told me Redoubt had erupted again, and this time the ash was headed our way. Sure enough, the volcano had erupted and sent an ash cloud 65,000′ into the air. Had it been clear to the north of us, we probably would have been able to see it, but of course it was overcast at that point.

The boss’s flight was once again canceled, and we’re beginning to think she’ll have to build a house in Anchorage because she’s never going to get back here. We prepared for the coming rain of volcanic debris: gathering fresh water for the dogs and ourselves if the power went out again, moving the old dogs back inside, and making sure doors and windows were shut tight.

We finished up as the first flakes of ash began to fall, and celebrated by taking a 3 hour nap. When we woke up, the blinding whiteness that had surrounded us for the past 5 months was turned into a dirty gray, like those piles of plowed snow in mall parking lots.

We fed the dogs with filter masks on, since the wind was blowing again, and I don’t fancy having volcanic glass in my lungs. I also wore my glasses, since microscopic ash on contact lenses can scratch the cornea, and I don’t want that either. Of course, breathing into the mask meant my glasses kept fogging up, so I eventually just took them off and worked in my nearsighted blur.

Here’s a special message, written in volcanic ash:

Now the volcano is sending out seismic pulses every couple of minutes, and I wonder if it’s going to blow again.

So, at least it isn’t boring around here.