tundra

Correspondence from Bethel, Alaska sent
April 19:

"bethel is so different from anything i've seen. it's pure tundra. the small wood houses don't seem warm enough to keep out the cold. the people must be tucked inside, though, because the only folks i see are those darting by on snowmobiles (which they call "snowmachines" here) or riding in enormous truckes laden with icicles. everything has icicles, actually. the dogs are outside, though, howling to eachother from house to house. there are 16 mushing huskies at our place. they're beauties and seem to withstand the frigid temperatures well-enough. i had to double up on hats, wearing them in layers against the wind, and longjohns are a complete necessity. i'm staying in an old log cabin built 30 years ago by my host, fran. he chopped each log to build the place himself, then floated them 50 miles downriver to bethel. he was a real pioneer back when he was in his twenties, it seems. he keeps it cozy with a wood burning stove and layers of quilts on the beds. fran's a 50-something hearty soul with nordic red hair and long legs that make him seem younger than his years. he wears carharts and clearly works hard at several jobs which he only vaguely describes to us. "work" is a slightly different term here, i think. he greeted us with long explainations of the town (laced with our first hints of bethel gossip) and how it's grown since he arrived in the 70s, his eyebrows dancing with inflection under his furry ear-flap cap. what a talker he is! i find that's the most interesting thing about this place--the stories. everyone shares them, taking the time to create the mood and include the details. it seems to be the main form of entertainment around here and it feels right to me."