The Rest of Fairbanks + The Tattoo Process

I blogged about the Denali Highway bike trip - which I think is pretty exciting - but I failed to mention the rest of the 2 weeks that I spent north of Anchorage. Most of the time I was in Fairbanks living in my tent in Carrie and Leif's backyard.



It was a nice spot with a beautiful view of the hills. They live in a cute little cabin in the woods, "little" being the key word, and the main reason I lived in a tent instead of in the house. Truthfully, I didn't mind at all. It gave everyone their own space. :) Anyway, every morning I was given a wake-up call, even if I didn't necessarily want one, by their cool dog, Munnin. He was, as Leif put it, enamored with me, and would tenaciously hope for me to wake up to play with him and his super cool red ball, laying patiently next to my tent. And he was always excited to see me. I honestly almost took him home with me.

The first weekend that I was in Fairbanks, however, was spent at Kim's new cabin. She built it last summer and invited people out to see it this year. Frankly, it's gorgeous. And the view is spectacular. It's actually kind of hard to take your eyes off of the mountains over the trees.



Carrie, Leif, and I drove out there on Saturday morning and met Stacey, who was already there, and Kim. We were lucky, too, because we didn't just get to visit and hang out and eat good food. We also got to help Kim work on the cabin.

If you look at the posts on her deck carefully, you will notice that the one on your left is burled. This is kind of - okay, not kind of, it IS - the theme of the cabin. The ultimate goal is to have all the posts be burled trees. She is pretty much always burl hunting. Before we got there her and Stacey had scoped out a couple of pretty nice enormous trees. And by enormous I do actually mean enormous.

But we are a tough group, and one pithy tree would not keep us from doing what we set out to do. Maybe a giant burl, but not a tree. The first tree was actually so big that Kim was able to cut it into two significant pieces that will serve as two different posts. The first half was a nice size - I'm guessing maybe 350-400 pounds? The good news is that the burls are beautiful. The not as good news is that the truck could not drive in as far as the tree was, which meant we did actually have to figure a way to get the tree to the truck.



We started out just simply hauling it. I'm not sure if "simple" is an appropriate adjective... Anyway, the small jabs into our sides and the awkwardness of the size made it frustratingly difficult to continue in this method. Carrie's bright idea: flip it end over end. So we did. We picked up one end, and then pushed it over long ways, so it did somersaults all the way to as far as the truck could come. Don't think that this was easy, my friends. It was not. But it worked, and it worked better (in my opinion) than hauling the tree like you see above. In any case, it got there. We all felt very successful. :)



What about the second half? You may ask. But the burl on the other part was actually so big we decided unanimously that we would not be able to carry it from where it was to the truck. Partly this was due to the fact that we had just hauled the other half. Mostly, seriously, the burl itself weighed so much there was no way we would have gotten that thing out of there, at least without seriously injuring one or more of us. But fear not; Kim will get it.

She also wants smaller burl trees for posts on her railing for the loft in the cabin. So we continued to burl hunt. Personally, this was my favorite part, mostly because I got to learn how to use the chainsaw. :)



Yeah, eat it, tree. Because after we got a few trees like this with some lovely burls, we peeled them. And peeled and peeled and peeled. It's mostly a satisfying job, if your tree is actually wet. My biggest burl was pretty dry and sappy, so it took me a long while to get it finished. But it was pleased. I even initialed it, so in 50 years one might be able to distinguished the carved "KK" in one of the railing posts and say, "I wonder if her middle name starts with a 'K.'"



Back to Fairbanks, most of my time was spent resting. Resting is an all-encompassing term that includes doing all of those things more than I generally have time for, such as, but not limited to: sleeping, sitting and doing nothing, reading, biking, wandering aimlessly, and sleeping (did I say that already?). It sounds like I might have been bored, but truthfully, not one moment that I was sitting and doing nothing, well, other than thinking, did I actually feel "bored" or like I really wanted something to do. No, I was perfectly content to have nothing to do.

I did spend time with Carrie, of course, which was great. It occurred to us that we don't actually know when we will see each other again. This is strange. As accustomed as I am to goodbyes, I was somewhat used to seeing Carrie at least once a month or more. Living in the bush creates different sorts of friendships, I have learned, so I don't necessarily feel like I'm losing a friend - I know we'll still be friends - but, how to say it, living in the village together, she's not down the street anymore, and the holiday of the weekend will provide a different family of people to be with. Not bad, just different.

I realize that I wasn't entirely exhaustive with my time in Anchorage, either. I am back in Anchorage now, but before I left for Fairbanks I did spend a lot of time with my dog.



She is living in a kennel for the summer, but everyone loves her everywhere she goes, so I'm not too worried. I took her today to spend some time with her (she was very happy and cuddly to see me) and also to take her back to the vet to complete her vaccinations. She's a very happy and healthy dog!

I also hiked up Flat Top... lovely view.



Although I didn't go all the way to the top because I had the dog with me. At the end of the hike up there is literally rock climbing. Since Star can't be trusted off the leash, and since I can't very well climb up a mountain with just one hand, we stopped just a short ways from the top for a rest and a look around. Don't think I'm done with that mountain, however. I will go back, and I will get to the top. :)

Also, the tattoo process, I thought, was pretty interesting.

Step 1: Find an artist


(Except that we found mine by chance and not by phone book)

Step 2: Prepare mentally


(I was so ready.)

Step 3: Outline the pterodactyl


Step 4: Break the enamel on my skin in order to place a permanent mark of ink, causing bleeding from what felt like a cat scratching the same spot repeatedly, OR like ripping duct tape off of my skin really fast so it tears out the hairs over and over and over


Step 5: Suffer


("It's worth it. It's worth it. It's worth it. Whose idea WAS this?!?!?!?!?" There may have been some questioning as to what the HECK I was thinking, perhaps some cursing of particular individuals who encouraged the whole thing. I really just wanted a little one, a trinity, something simple. And it somehow evolved into a prehistoric creature which was obviously not the fittest, since it did not survive, evolution.)

Step 6: Enjoy the artwork


(In truth, I do love my tattoo, and since that day I have grown quite attached to it. Good thing, since it will be with me for a while.)

Step 7: Enjoy the company


(Katie.)

I think this pretty much covers all the interesting things up until now. Cheers!