I don't remember signing up for active volcanoes!

Tuesday, June 18th, 2013
11:12 p.m. local time

WOW, crazy hella' major busy week!  Cooking for only 17 people should be a WHOLE lot simpler than this, hell, I've cooked for 450 easier than this!  BUT, I've got multiple pantries on different ends of the compound and more than one kitchen I'm cooking in at any given time.  e.g.?, tonight, the bulk of supper was put together in the main kitchen at the east end of the camp.  But the main course, deep fried Chicken fried moose steak hadda' be done in the smoke house, two buildings away.  So, prepping the mashed potatoes, green bean casserole, salad (lettuce, cuq's, green onions, mushrooms, red cabbage, and red & yellow bells), and frosting the cakes first (duh), before schlepping 8 bazillion ingredients and implements to the smoke house kinda' saved my butt.  But running the finished product back to the kitchen for service while it was still hot from the deep fryer like to wore me out!  Whatever, people raved about the entire meal (thanks for your help listening for my timers Jacob!), as did some of our neighboring fauna; a brown bear (they're called "grizzlies" in the Lower 48) followed the scent of the moose steaks, dancing around in the biblically hot oil, up to the air strip!  We could tell he musta' been a big 'un, 'cuz even from far away we could make out his musculature, and he was impressive enough we were collectively glad he remained far away!  Now the fog is rolling in from the Bristol Bay, and you know I gotta' get up at least once a night to answer the call of nature; we're supposed to watch out for bears napping on the lawn in this?  Maybe I should retrieve one of the empty plastic coffee cans from the mud room...

The curious/peckish bruin was just a cap on an already mildly nerve racking day; both volcanoes Veniaminof to the east and Pavlof to the south were more than a little active all day long.  Veni' was steaming when we flew in a week and a half ago; today he (she?) was full on smoking, his (her?) ash cloud streaming first southward and then curving sharply west to sail directly overhead (in spite of the distinct breeze blowing eastward, hmmm...).  Then Pavlof, who's been completely quiet this whole time, was steaming to the point at first glance it appeared like storm clouds rolling in.  THEN, this evening while thrashing about in the kitchen, the guests were cruising through chattering about Veni rumbling.  ?!  "Rumbling?!  What rumbling, I didn't hear any 'rumbling!!, are you f'ing kidding me?!"  All that smoke and ash from Veni earlier in the day was startling enough, I had just finished my workout and was shower bound when I saw what was transpiring not 25 miles from here.  I'm rushing through my shower envisioning some people in ancient Pompei innocently showering themselves when Vesuvius decided to throw its bitch fit of an eruption, and thought "I really don't want fanny pack wearing tourists strolling past the fossilized ruins of Sandy River Lodge, and my naked form immortalized in stone tearing open a dime store shower curtain and scrambling for a towel, thank you very little!".  Needless to say, that was the fastest shower I've ever accomplished, like, ever.  Not like I think I woulda' been able to run away from an volcanic eruption, I mean, where the heck would I go?!, into the arms of the brown bear who attempted raiding my chicken fired moose steaks?!  There really ain't anyplace out here to run to, but such is where the mind goes when faced with cataclysmic fiery death.  I know; if I were one of my kids carrying on this way, I'd be reaching for the nearest statuette sized object and feign presenting it to them while intoning "And the Oscar goes to..."

Well, like I said, the fog has rolled in, which reminds me so much of being at the beach, that I'm lulled into a false sense of security, and now if either of the stupid volcanoes do go off, I'll neither see them, nor hear them, and hopefully said cataclysmic fiery death will be mercifully quick and painless, however dying like that can be "painless", but whatever.  At least I'll go down with my pantry (one of them, located literally behind a "secret panel" wall), and future tourists will be in awe of the spices I had out here in the tundra, and not snickering at some hapless clod caught bare assed in the shower when the world as I knew it came crashing to its end.

And then maybe I'm just feeling "remote cabin fever" already, and need to chillax.  Anything's possible...