Catching the Train

Visiting Alaska has really made me realize just how soft our living is.  We view ourselves as hardy farmers making a living on our land, but in reality we make our real living from my husband's insurance and real estate business.  We farm but not with real hardship as we do most of it with the help of a multitude of machines, from tractors to riding lawn mowers.  When I need something for supper, I hop in the car and run to the grocery and get it all fancied up in a box. 

What we saw in Alaska were people who really were self-sufficient and loved it.  As we traveled by train across the vast midland of Alaska we were treated to occasional glimpses of isolated cabins in snug little clearings in the woodlands.  Some were elegant and clearly professionally created, some were rough and clearly built with the hard work of the families themselves.  Some were neat with well cared for yards and some of the gloriously, profuse flowers I keep talking about.  Some were cluttered with all the paraphernalia of wilderness living piled on porch, yard, and walls.  Yet, all held a strong impression of competence and self-sufficiency.  These were people that relied on no one to do the work for them.  They obviously took care of their own needs in their own way. 

One of the most fascinating stretches of railroad ran for 60 miles through an area that was unreachable by road.  The people that lived in this area relied on the train for transportation when they needed to reach the outside and the benefits of civilization.  A signal was given and the train stopped at certain mile markers to pick up anyone who wanted to ride.  To reach the train tracks they arrived on their four-wheelers.  Up and down the tracks would run paths, which would follow the train tracks for a ways then shoot off into the forest and disappear.  Occasionally, we would see bright blue showing through the bush and trees beside the train.  Finally we realized that these were the four-wheelers and carts, covered with blue tarps, waiting for the return from town of their owners, ready to be loaded with supplies and taken to cabins off in the woods.

I envisioned lonely hunters living far from civilization and relishing their privacy, until our guide pointed out a neat homestead coming up ahead.  Soon we were treated to a idyllic view of a snug home in a manicured clearing surrounded by flower beds and bird houses.  Tricycles and bikes leaned against the railing of the neat deck, while clothes dried on the lines in the back yard.  The guide told us that they must be off somewhere because usually they greeted the train with waves from the yard.  It seems that this was a couple who had decided to move to Alaska from "outside", meaning the lower states.  They had arrived several years earlier and built their home and settled in.  The mother home schooled the children when they became old enough and the father did various jobs and worked at keeping them fed.  I never really figured out what he did but obviously it provided for his family. 

I looked at that neat homestead and thought of the little family it protected.  I thought about the long winter days when the sun barely shown and the snow was deep around the cabin.  I thought of all the illnesses and injuries that could happen and how far they were from medical help.  I thought about all the crises that arise that you need neighbors for help.  I wondered who the mother shared her worries with and who the father had to bolster him up.  Then I realized that these people didn't need all the things that we think are so necessary.  Medical help was available, by train, in an emergency, but for all else they had each other.  I'm sure there were others that were in the area, even if they weren't close.  There were too many four-wheeler paths for the area to be totally uninhabited, but still these people had reached down inside themselves and found a strength and fortitude that I found awe inspiring.   These were the types of people who settled our lands, "outside", many years ago. 

 I guess I thought all the heroes and pioneers were long gone.  No they still live and thrive in Alaska.