Saturday, November 15, 2014

Lights, Camera.......and a Gravesite

Lights, Camera.....and a Gravesite

Camels have played such an important role in Arabian culture that there are over 160 words for 'camel' in the Arabic language.  In my part of the world, I am only aware of 1 word to describe an even toed ungulate bearing distinctive fatty deposits known as "humps: on its back.  As we rounded the first turn up Redington Pass Road, heading away from the lights and sounds of Tucson, Arizona Eric made reference to a possible camel sighting amid the cactus studded territory.  Sure enough, there stood a camel, in someone's yard.  

A great and a truly unique start to our little photo back road adventure.  I could have used a little movement from our humped friend, but will have to settle for a photo featuring his or her back quarters.  

Within the next couple of turns we encountered a gigantic rattle snake, a riveting golden sunset and a stunning backdrop opposite the fiery sky.  A panorama featuring our dirt road, weaving its way across the rolling landscape, set against a beautiful sky, lay before us.  The photographer side of us was in high gear.  Fortunately or unfortunately, the jeep was not in a higher gear as darkness settled in.

We had a late start so we knew that the lengthy journey from Tucson to San Manual and then to our home in Catalina would roll us into the late evening and a switch to photo's in the darkness.

Now shrouded in thick darkness, we pulled over to ‘experiment’ with our arsenal of camera’s, tripods, lenses, and a dose of creativity to blend it all together.  As Eric was setting up a tripod I explored our patch of Arizona back road.  Not much to explore, with a tiny headlight in hand, shooting a beam that was illuminating almost nothing, other than rocks and dirt within a few strides off of the dirt track.  I was rather surprised as my paltry beam resonated off of something that was not a rock or plant.   

About 30 feet down the hillside was a small cross, paying honor to Steven 1986-2010.  The chance of randomly finding a miniature cross, 30 feet down a hillside, in the dark, along a lengthy dirt road, is a little more than my mind can comprehend, so I won't kill any brain cells trying to wrap my mind around those odds.

A google session would lead me to a site called 'find a grave'.  Steven Everett Burrows was born in Fort Collins, Colorado and moved to Tucson when he was two.  He died in a rollover accident in Redington Pass.  It was noted that he was doing one of the things he loved best.

Steven Everett Burrows shrine/gravesite

Steven Everett Burrows - 1986-2010

A little light play near the gravesite

Saturday, September 27, 2014



Seconds ago I pulled up a local story on Tucson, AZ weather and the end of our monsoon season.  the story was titled 'Monsoon's Curtain Call Comes This Weekend'.  It is the last few ticks of September and the usual weather phenomenon, that is referred to as the monsoon is winding down.  

A monsoon is caused by warm air creating surface low pressure zones that in turn draw moist air from the oceans. Arizona winds usually come from the west, but shift to a southeasterly wind in the summer, bringing moisture, most often from the Gulfs of Mexico and California. The wind shift and increase in moisture combine with the surface low pressure from the desert heat to produce storms in a cycle of “bursts” (heavy rainfall) and “breaks” (reduced rainfall).

the normally dry Rillito River after a storm

The monsoon season begins on June 15 and ends on September 30, but the storms peak between mid-July and mid-August. On average, about half of Arizona receives about half of its annual rainfall during the monsoon.  Below are a few of the magnificent moments of the Monsoon season that I have captured.

over Tucson

beautiful colors over Pusch Ridge-Catalina Mountains

storm unleashing along the Catalina Mountains

a break in the storm, over the Tortolita Mountains

storm clouds building over Tucson

Tuesday, September 9, 2014

The Call came at 3 am

The Call Came at 3 am

The call came at 3 am and it was a zinger.  The voice at the other end of the line said something along the lines of 'how would you like to jump off the Royal Gorge Bridge?'.  Now that got my full and undivided attention, grogginess be gone.  I was receiving a once in a life time offer.  Bungee jumping off the Royal Gorge Bridge is illegal, but every now and then the jump is legal, for only a few days.  Go Fast, an energy drink company, will take out insurance on the bridge to run the Go Fast Games and create a festive swirl of adrenaline activities which include Base Jumping, slack lining, jet suit flights, bungee jumping, etc.  I am not sure exactly how many Go Fast Games have been run but it appears to be 5-7 times and definately not every year.

I had been jumping and helping crew with Over the Edge Bungee (out of Stanley, Idaho) to help fill my adrenaline needs.  We had discussed the 1,053 foot (321 meter) Royal Gorge Bridge as the ultimate destination while packing bungee cords, carabiners, etc.

Over the Edge Bungee had been asked to run the bungee jump at the 2008 Go Fast Games.  I would help on crew, take photos and film, and of course, would be an amazing experience I will never forget.  It also appears to have been the latest, but, hopefully, not last, Go Fast Games.

I have a previous blog story on our Go Fast Games adventure so I will share the recent discovery of a slideshow I had tried to put together after the event. It was on a seriously inadequate lap top that had trouble with the project.  It essentially had problems with just about everything.

About a month ago I was offered a much newer lap top. It works.  Bells and whistles included.  While scanning my photos I  came across the  unfinished slideshow, laying dormant in a corner of the Go Fast Games file.  

An opportunity to relive a grand time and to finally share with others.  Enjoy!
Link below:
Music by Sittser

Sunday, September 7, 2014

The Plump Rattlesnake

The Plump Rattlesnake

As the sun began its dip in the western sky, Eric and I zigzagged across an embankment that I had endearingly labeled Tortoise Hill.  The narrow ridge line, filled with saguaro and prickly pear cactus, and sprinkled with other spiky desert shrubs is now surprisingly filled with a thick layer of grass due to recent monsoon activity.  It was because of my frequent encounters with the unique desert tortoise species that I had unofficially named this topographic feature. Comparing photos, I discovered that there are possibly three different desert tortoises on this hillside, with another tortoise on a slope about a half mile away.  When I formerly lived in Tucson for seven years, I had only encountered one of these lumbering, shelled creatures.  Now I could pad my count with three or four more, all seen while roaming the desert terrain over the past six weeks. Amazing!  I hoped we would see at least one on this journey.  It would make my stories a little more plausible to my friend.

I enjoy the opportunities to capture the beauty and nature of the desert and I have become a 'running photographer' to some degree.   I was now in 'love' with the desert tortoise. It has become a favorite animal to photograph.  How can you go wrong with a subject  that barely moves?  I have a history of scrambling for the nearest camera, hastily pointing in the general direction of whatever desert creature was streaking across my point of view, and coming away with blurry or missed shots.  When I find a tortoise I can actually look for my camera, adjust the camera settings, make a phone call, look up the latest gossip on Yahoo, and my model has only moved about ten feet.  A photographer’s dream.  Well, almost.  The subject can be a bit boring.

My first encounter with tortoise number one (in this area) was on one of those rare occasions when I left for a run without a camera, cell phone, or even a pencil and paper to make a drawing.  But my model wasn’t going anywhere fast, so I was able to run home, grab a camera, and run back in time to snap some photos.   

On this day, we failed to find a tortoise on Tortoise Hill, so we trekked to the neighborhood of tortoise number one.  While on our way, I became distracted and by chance spotted an enormous rattlesnake, maybe ten feet away.  Delving into the thesaurus later at home, I tried out every appropriate word that could describe him (or her): fat, chunky, paunchy, swollen, broad. None seemed to fit. This snake was so large, with a long string of rattles attached, that no word seemed to do it justice. He (or she) was simply ominous .  Of course, that snake would 'grow' each time the story was told.  

And our presence did not seem to startle this creature in the least. Silence emanated from that generous line of rattles as Eric joined me for an impromptu photo session. The entire time it lay there fat and content, taking photos of this reptile was not too different from the previously mentioned desert tortoise.  She (he?) was taking a siesta.  Lulled by a stuffed gut, she was not moving and not particularly mindful of the two humans who had invaded her neighborhood.  After about twenty minutes of snapping photos and movies, I got a little too close to the snake, causing two heart rates to bounce upward. The desert dweller finally uncoiled and slithered a few feet in the opposite direction.  That abruptly marked the end of the photo session. But it was certainly NOT boring.

Sunday, August 31, 2014

Baranof 24 Hour Endurance Run

Baranof 24 Hour Endurance Run - Sitka, AK

Note:  This is a blog that I missed posting.  The run was in November 2010.

It is currently 2:25 am and I am assisting Matthew Shepard and his Baranof 24 hour Endurance Run in Sitka, Alaska. This is a fund raiser for the American Diabetes Association. Matthew has completed just over 35 miles and 20 laps around the 1.75 mile loop that has become his domain. Lap #1 started at 6pm. Lap #21 is drawing to a close. He is now alternating running and walking.

Matthew Shepard

Now about 4am. Conditions have been horrid. Those outside the bubble will not realize how much more is involved in an event with these conditions for Matthew. A strong breeze with gusts to 25-30 mph and rain, a constant wall of water to slush through. We are used to unkind conditions here in the rainforest but this is mother nature being purely wicked and evil.

I met Matthew when he contacted me regarding my involvement with diabetes and the crazy array of events I seem to immerse myself in. This 24 hour run is tied in with the Rome marathon which he and some friends will be running in March for the American Diabetes Association. Their website is His interest and desire to do great things for diabtetes is due to having a girlfriend, Kate, who has diabetes. His interest in extreme events is due to....? It is a cool passion and that is why I am involved in this event. With recent knee surgery I am unable to run but will walk some laps with Matthew and I am happy to be invovled in extreme stuff on our remote island in Alaska.

We had set up run base camp at the Sitka Fire Hall. About every 18-19 minutes Matthew would cruise by, wet but determined. As the lap count began to mount, Matthew would deal with cramps, sore muscles, feet that were beginning to look like an experiment and the ever present squallish weather bearing down on a runner with a mission.

By 6am the conditions were pounding Matthew and he made the wise decision to cut the run short. It had been 12 hours since he had taken those first steps heading up Lake street. The Baranof 24 Hour Endurance Run would short of the goal but was a valiant effort by Matthew. I am encouraged by his event (and others) who are dedicated to assisting in efforts to cure and/or improve the lives of those with diabetes (and other causes). 

Wednesday, August 20, 2014

The Only Highway System That Includes Life Preservers

The Only Highway System That Includes Life Preservers

There are 656,425 square miles of rugged wilderness, scenic beauty and abundant wildlife that make up the Last Frontier, Alaska.  This means traveling in Alaska presents some unique challenges as well as opportunities. Unlike the lower 48, many of the communities are not accessible by a land based road system, making the primary means of travel to them by air or sea. The Alaska Marine Highway makes up a large part of the Alaska 'highway system' and is a route so special it has been designated National Scenic Byway and an All American Road, the only marine route with this designation.

With Sitka, Alaska being my second island home, and my family spending vacation time on a third chunk of rock (Anderson Island, WA), plus recent journeys between the Canadian mainland and Vancouver Island, I have spent a wealth of time aboard numerous ferry systems.  On a recent  excursion, to Canada, when I had to walk across 36 lanes for vehicle traffic in Nanaimo, British Columbia., I was reminded of the importance and lifeblood of the ferry system. Maybe a lane for each vehicle color?

Aboard the Malaspina Ferry

Last May I was parked  on the Malaspina, amid my life time collection of odds and ends, crammed into every nook and cranny of my bulging Subaru Legacy.  Is there a stronger word to insert, then 'crammed'?  Yes, I attempted to load everytttttttttttttttttttthhhhhhhhhhhhiiiiiiiiiiinnnnnnnnnnngggg, that I owned, into that poor, space abused vehicle.  

If you were a gear junkie thief, you could have scored brilliantly. I was forced to abandon much of my belongings, including kitchen wares, books, tools, food and generally much of what it takes to survive on your own.  Here I come Mom and Dad!

somewhere in Canadian waters

My position in Alaska had been dissolved and a job offer in Canada ended as only that.  Poutine for lunch and my hockey dreams will have to wait.  I was now making a beeline  to the Southwest desert, a vastly different terrain and climate than my world of 87 inches of rain a year afforded this drenched soul in the SE Alaska rain forest.  I will get back to the 'beeline' quip.  This journey would be anything but......

A novelty found on some of the Alaska Marine Highway ferries is the Solarium.  On the Malaspina, this is the area that is in the back of the boat, on the highest deck.  Here you will find the traveling crowd that elected not to get a cabin.  One of the beauties of the ferry system is that there are many areas that a person can throw a sleeping bag.  Instinctively, I laid my sleeping bag on a reclining plastic chair in the Solarium, under a heater (the back end of the Solarium is open to the back of the boat/sea).  This trip would slowly cruise to an end in Bellingham, Washington.  Transit time would be 2 days 16 hours, so I would need a worthy place to crash.  With the Solarium bustling, I moved camp to the aft lounge, where I was greeted with  a striking view, fully cushioned seating/bedding area, close to restrooms, and only 1 other camper on the far side of the large room.   

View of ocean and beautiful scenery from the Malaspina

The sailing was a photographers dream.  Not being an actual 'photographer' on an relevant scale, I enjoy capturing the beauty and sometimes oddity around me.  The beauty of Alaska and Canada was like an award winning slide show playing upon my spirit, 24/7.  There would be unknown mountain ranges, bays, light houses, islands, etc.  All breathtaking and worth the 68 million (or so) photos I snapped. It was also a good time to reflect on life, job situation, the ugly financial chaos, wondering if by crazy chance, there are any nice/cute/adventurous  gals in Catalina, Arizona (my future home), the coming road trip and diabetes.

No trails, no gym, and no roads meant close to no exercise and additional challenge to achieving reasonable blood sugars.  I maintained some weak level of sanity with repeated loops around the perimeter of the vessel. The desperately lacking track was open all day and all night.  Perfect for laps at 1am.    

Link below is video of the Malaspina

As we  entered Washington waters I could feel the journey coming to an end.  I was thankful to step aside from the crazy, busy time that I had endured the previous months. Slugging away at the job market, packing, making monumental donations to the Salvation Army and the White Elephant Thrift Stores and watching the $$ side of life take one hit after another.  It was a welcome adventure (other than the staggering cost of floating a vehicle on a long ferry trip).  

 Less than 150 miles after exiting the Malaspina, my once-loved Subaru would break down twice and there was  a additional stirring of the nerves as a tire developed a rather serious and threatening protuberance.  I would live, temporarily, at my daughter's (Deanna) in the Seattle area, plunk down more of my dwindling resources on car repairs and eventually would toss most of my possessions in a storage unit in Seattle and catch Alaska Airlines for a very disrupted and disturbing 'beeline' to Arizona.  So glad for additional blog material!   

Malaspina at the Bellingham dock

Wednesday, May 28, 2014



My junior year in high school I occupied a small section of the bench during our high school basketball season.  I occupied that spot all season.  Yes, this was the jv team and not the highly regarded and competitive senior team.  I enjoyed basketball, or at least some aspects of it but I was not highly refined in a sport where I was way too short and generally lacking in overall ability.  The coaches did have some gleaming hopes for my bball future, though.  I clung to some of those same hopes knowing that in the ideal world I could be a superstar or at least maybe escape the clutch of the bench and play enough to break a sweat or score more than 2 points in a game.  

in Los Angeles for a Hotshot competition

Basketball had been a wake-up call for me and those involved in my little world.  During a year of junior high basketball I had a coach from hell, or some appalling community close to hell.  He had a knack for working us to the puke zone and beyond.  While holding back tears and feeling the vomit gurgling in my stomach, I occupied the bench all season.  While we all suffered through workouts that were beyond anything a junior higher should endure, I seemed to be having an extra measure of struggle on the court.  In a small world of perfect storms, my pancreas had just thrown in the towel.  Thank goodness for parents that knew that weight loss, off of a thin boy, and a thirst that only type 1 newbie’s would truly comprehend and understand, earmarked me for a hospital check up.  My blood sugar was in the neighborhood of 550? and my life, and those close to me would be forever changed.  

Those gleaming hopes of the coaches, maybe a few members of the team, my father and me were hinged on the fact that I had an extreme ability to shoot the basketball.  While I saw almost zero playing time I was one of the best shooters on the planet.  I would compete in the Pepsi Hotshot Basketball Contest and placed in the top 8 in the United States (in my age group) one year and top 24 the year before while traveling around the country competing during half time of NBA games.  Talk about pressure! That pressure does wonders for blood sugars.  The Hotshot program treated its athletes well and also bestowed travel vouchers, so that my parents could cringe and gasp, while their son competed on a national level,  with crowds in the range of 10,000 people.  I was able to use my talent in a manner much different than expected.  Sometimes life is not what it seems or should be but venturing onto the road less traveled or maybe a path that has never been traveled can be the best experience.

Sunday, May 25, 2014

Sometimes Life is Stranger than Fiction

Sometimes Life is Stranger than Fiction

Video involving the shoe incident

Life can be stranger than fiction
The link above tells most of the story:  

*  Dave does a rather unusual bungee jump

*  Dave somehow loses his shoe in the process
*  A boat scoops up his shoe and saves the day

Rather charming headlines but ohhhh, there is so much more to that story….

Glenn's Ferry Bridge
The  first ‘stranger’ aspect comes in the fact that I was even able to post a youtube video. 
We were joined on the Glenn’s Ferry bridge by a good # of adrenaline seekers.  One of them was Tom (last name escapes me).  I did not realize till well after the jump that he was filming many of the bungee jumps or that someone below was snapping photos.   Eventually, I found out about possible footage so I contacted Tom and he gladly shared that he would send footage my way.  He was in the process of piecing the short segments of footage together into a longer loop.  Sounded good to me.  Time crept forward with no footage.  No rush, but I was curious if he had the camera rolling when I did the most unusual  jump I have ever done.  

My Shoe, in flight

A year would roll by……….then it became 2 years.   I would eventually receive the prized footage but would not be able to open the main footage.  No success after many different attempts I closed the file but was glad for some short segments and a handful of photos.  One of which miraculously caught my shoe incident.  

2 more years would pass and after the piece of junk laptop was replaced by a slightly newer version of technology I would again, stumble across the unknown file that sat amidst a random bungee pile .  I had forgotten about the lost and yet to be opened file and accidentally clicked on the attachment.  4 years after the jump I had my surprise footage.  If you catch the video, the boat that rescue's my shoe was the only boat we saw that day and they were only in the area for my jump.  They left after their heroic retrieval.

Sunday, May 4, 2014

To Be Alaskan.....

To Be Alaskan......
I had ventured into the Last Frontier a number of times during my brief escapes from work and to a degree, most of civilization.  About 8 years ago, home for me was Boise, Idaho.  A great place, but I was ready for a new adventure.  Having been a bike messenger in the past, I liked the idea of combining work with a splice of adventure so decided that I would spend some internet time and see if I could find a job in the wilds of Alaska.  I had been to Juneau, Skagway, Petersburg and Sitka.  No, no, no and yes.  Sitka had been my favorite stop along the Dave/Alaska trail so I concentrated my search to the Sitka area.  I would land a position with Sitka Convention & Visitors Bureau.  I would soon learn that the first step to becoming 'Alaskan' is just getting to the state.  In my case, that would mean almost 3 days on the Alaskan Marine Highway Ferry.  Welcome to adventure!

Brown Bear print

Alaska , the name is probably a corruption of the Aleut work Alyeska, which means “the great land”.  Great is an great understatement.  First of all, Alaska is huge.  If you cut Alaska in half, Texas would be the third-largest state.  There were a number of times that I was asked or it was assumed that Sitka was close to Anchorage.  Do you consider 600 miles to be close?

Bears…….by all means Alaska has bears!  a definite thickness of the fur balls.  And to make it more interesting, we have zero black bears on our island.  If you come across a bear near Sitka, it will probably be very large and brown.  On my trail run today I was stopped by a runner who warned me about a bear he had just seen on the trail.  The trail would be free of large objects but it did remind me that there is a certain feel to Alaska and that I seriously needed to finish this blog. 

 Trever Alters on one of our No Limits kayak expeditions 

Oh, and there is that oil fund check that Alaskans receive from the state each year, rewarding us for being Alaskan and for the fact that we are rather blessed with lots of oil.  While at the Sitka Convention and Visitors Bureau, one of the many inquiring phone calls I received from prospective visitors/residents was from a gentleman who asked what he has to do to receive the $20,000 check we receive each year.  Well, Sir, it might has something to do with actually living in Alaska and no, it does not punch up your checking account $20,000, try $800-1200.  That is easily washed out by the extra expense to live here.  I have been appreciative of the extra cash, though. 

ok, no moose on Baranof Island, where I live, but I like the photo 

Being Alaskan almost demands that you own a pair of Xtra Tuff Boots. 

Halibut Head Toss (Sitka Seafood Festival) with my daughter, Deanna 

Alaskan, it turns out, is more than just somebody who lives up north.  It’s also a language with many words all it’s own, including words borrowed from English but given a peculiar, northern meaning.  Then there are words from Native languages, not to mention jargon and pidgin.
Cheechako-a newcomer to AK, usually one who has not survived a winter here. 
Cold-according to physicians, there is no such thing as cold, only an absence of heat.  Greatest absence of heat ever recorded in ak was -80 at Prospect Creek Camp on jan 23, 1971. 

 Deanna and that adorable halibut head

 photo by Deanna Rivaldo

Some basic statistics that highlight a really big and varied state:
Lakes: 3 million / 586,412 sq miles / shoreline:  33,904 miles
Climate records 100 to -80
In 1867 Alaska was purchased for .02 per acre.  from Russia.  The end amount was 7,200,000.  $200,000 was tacked on to the final price to cover the lost revenue that Russia would lose by selling ice out of Swan Lake (in Sitka).  Sitka was the capital until it was moved to Juneau in 1906.
SE Alaska contains about 1,000 of the state’s 1,800 named islands

The flag for the 49th state was designed by a 13 year old.

Of special note to being a Sitkan I have pasted one of the top April Fool day hoaxes, ever, that was pulled off by Porky Bickar, of Sitka.

On Kruzof Island, about 13 miles west of Sitka, Alaska, sits Mt Edgecumbe. The extinct volcano is 1300 feet in height and covered with snow about eight months of the year.
On April 1, 1974, a clear, beautiful morning, Porky Oliver Bickar of Sitka woke up early to see Mt. Edgecumbe through the window in all its glory. Porky whispered to his wife, Patty: "This is it. We've gotta do it today." Patty smiled sweetly, kissed Porky on the forehead, and said, "Don’t make an ass of yourself."
Porky rushed to his shop (you can see the name of his shop on Old Blue) and started calling helicopter charters. He called three charters, but when they heard his plan they respectfully declined. One said he was afraid of a white-out (snow), but since the weather was absolutely clear that didn't wash. Finally, with the help of Harry Sulser, the owner of Sitka's Pioneer Bar, Porky struck pay dirt with Temsco's Earl Walker in Petersburg. Although his chopper was fog-bound, Earl loved the idea and said he would be on the way to Sitka as soon as he could see one more telephone pole.
In the meantime, Porky made up two manila rope slings about 150 feet long...each holding about 50 old car tires. He also gathered up a batch of oily rags, a gallon of sterno, a lot of diesel oil, and a dozen smoke bombs. (He didn't want us to mention where he got those. OK, Pork.)
When Earl and his chopper arrived at the old PBY and Goose turnaround (Sitka didn't have an airport then), Porky, Earl, Larry Nelson, and Ken Stedman first loaded up the incendiaries. When Earl and Porky got off the ground and hovered the chopper, Larry and Ken hooked one sling of tires to the chopper and off they went toward Mt. Edgecumbe (with FAA "legal" clearance, of course).
Within just a few minutes, Porky and Earl were flying over Mt. Edgecumbe. They could see for miles--just water and islands--with Baranof Island to the east and the open North Pacific to the west.
Porky and Earl dropped the tires into the up-til-now extinct volcano, then swung around and set the chopper down. Porky got out and unloaded all the fuel...just the right stuff to make a lot of black, smoky fire.
When Earl lifted off headed back to Sitka for the next load of tires, Porky stacked the first load in a big circle, poured on the fuel, and started to spray-paint a huge message in the snow with 50-foot letters: APRIL FOOL. When Earl returned and dumped 50 more tires into Mt. Edgecumbe, the two boys finished the arrangement...set the whole mess ablaze...and happily headed back to Sitka.
On the way back, Earl asked the FAA tower for clearance, and Homer Sutter (the controller) said "I'll bring you in as low and inconspicuously as possible...and, by the way, the son of a gun looks fantastic!" Earl set the chopper down. Mission accomplished...
Although Porky had remembered to notify both the FAA and the Sitka Police (he was a member of the police commission), he somehow forgot to notify the Coast Guard. While Mt. Edgecumbe was busy spewing out its black smoke, the Coast Guard Commander called for a chopper to investigate and sent a whale boat over to check things out. The chopper pilot radioed back to the commander that all he saw was a bunch of smoldering tires and a big April Fool sign in the snow. This was after the commander had called the Admiral in Juneau about the apparent crisis.
Jimmy Johnson, Vice President of Alaska Airlines, had also heard about Mt. Edgecumbe's activity, and called Sitka to instruct their departing plane to fly over the mountain to give all the passengers a bird’s eye view of it all. And, in the meantime, the Sitka radio station and police station phones were ringing off the hook.
We later found out that Porky's April Fool's Day caper had made AP news...worldwide.

Link to Porky's caper on the Museum of Hoaxes website:

This is the first year in about 7 years that I did not sign up for the Alaska oil fund check.  I will be moving off the island and off the Alaska grid by May 16th.  It has been a grand adventure and I look forward to the next page in my life story.