October 26, 2008

• Out at the Crack of Dawn

  Even before there was light on the horizon today, Doug and I started getting ready for a water run.  After we emptied the pitcher to fill the dog and cats’ water and poured the last from a jug to make coffee, we were down to a single 2-gallon kitty litter jug of water, and that water in the kitty litter jugs is for washing, not for drinking.

   

  I went out first, after suiting up for the cold.  It was too cold for just one little watch cap, so I wore two.  I got the 50-foot extension cord from the storage cabin, and strung it out from the end of another cord at the corner of the house, to the car at the end of the driveway, to plug in the engine block heater.  Then, when Doug went back to the bathroom, where the other extension cord plugs into a power strip whenever we need it in cold weather to make the car easier (or possible, in really cold weather) to start, each time he plugged it in, it tripped the power strip’s circuit breaker.  The problem could be in the car’s heater, or in the wiring, or  could simply be that it draws more power than the breaker is rated for.  I might find out later today.  Roger the electrician called yesterday and said he’d be here “noonish” today to work on our wiring.

  As soon as the day began to dawn, Doug started carrying empty jugs out and I started trying to start the car.  It was balky, and I was glad for the manual choke installed by the previous owner.  Automatic chokes are one of the reasons cars don’t start in cold weather.  Oil that turns from a lubricant to an adhesive at low temperatures is another reason.  It fired, sputtered, faltered and died a few times before it would keep running, and then it ran at about 200 RPM for a few minutes before I could rev it up any further without having it die.  At first, all the idiot lights were glowing red.  Finally, after I’d managed to rev it up to 1500 RPM, the last lights, brake fluid and parking brake, went out and the engine smoothed out.

  We bumped and rattled out of the driveway on square tires — radial tires tend to flatten out on the bottom side when parked, and retain that shape until they warm up — and I drove around a block on this side of the highway, crossed over and drove around a block on the other side, checking out the old home place, noticing that it’s still standing.  By then, the tires had rounded out and the frost on the inside of the windshield had softened enough that Doug could scrape it off without damaging the plastic scraper.

  First thing I noticed after I pulled onto the highway was the mountain glowing deep pink in my rear view mirror.  Denali, AKA Mount McKinley, was catching morning light that hadn’t made it this far yet.  The sun rose at the spring as Doug filled jugs and buckets and I sat with my hands curled in my pockets and my gloves lying on the defroster vent.  Traffic was normal for an early Sunday morning in winter.  While we were there, 21 vehicles passed headed north and seven went by headed south, all but one of the latter after sunrise.  While Doug was carrying full buckets up the path, our neighbor Al Fisher came from the north, filled one 4-gallon kitty litter jug, and headed back home again.  Of the 21 vehicles going northward, nine were either pickups with snowmachines in the back, or SUVs pulling snowmachines (AKA “snowmobiles”) on trailers.  One vehicle going each way pulled an empty snowmachine trailer.  The trailer headed south was covered with snow, and the one headed north was clean.  The first vehicle that passed headed south, before sunrise, was a methane tanker truck, headed back empty from Fairbanks or someplace else up thataway.

  Doug fell as he was bringing the last few jugs and buckets up to the car, slipped on the icy surface of the parking area.  He landed on both knees, an elbow and shoulder.   I offered to help him load the water in the hatch, but he said he could handle it.  When he’d finished up and belted himself into the shotgun seat, I pulled blissfully warm gloves onto similarly warm fingers, pulled out onto the highway, around the curve and over the hill toward home.  At the top of the hill, the sight of Denali was breathtaking.  The color had faded to a pale peachy pink, and atmospheric lensing made it loom taller than usual, twice as tall as the pink mountain had been when we were headed south.

  Sunrise today was at 8:18, almost four hours ago.  In a bit over five hours, at 5:09, the sun will set.  By now, Doug says, the only pain is an occasional twinge in his knees.
  

  • 4:01 pm
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