by Simon Frez-Albrecht Slogging up the south couloir on the north face of Ptarmigan Peak, my thoughts drifted to the raspberries and dipping chocolate I had waiting for me at home. I imagined I would improvise a double boiler from a pair of pots to avoid burning the chocolate; I would get some wax paper from my roommate to lay on the cookie sheet; I would then use a pair of chopsticks to dip the berries, so that they would come out smooth and pretty instead of all globbed from my fingers or a spoon. I could practically taste the sweet fruit center, cold inside the still-warm chocolate, the small…
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Mind Framing
by Evan Nasse By my freshman year in high school I had thought I finally started to really understand who I was and what I wanted in life—as many bright-eyed, idealist teenagers are wont to do so early on—until one of the more influential teachers in my life called me out on my self-serving, hubristic delusions. “You’re a fairly bright kid, but I don’t think you truly know what it is you want from yourself, so you aren’t really doing anything special by half-assing your schoolwork and maintaining a ‘good enough’ grade. You’re cheating the man in the glass and I won’t stand for it.” Mr. Gornick didn’t pull any…
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A Snowy Challenge
by Brance P. Peña Like all natural wonders, snow is just another thing of science, but there is something about it that seems almost spellbinding. To a native of Manhattan, snow is a rarity: To most New Yorkers, a nuisance, but to the few enchanted, it is pure magic. It is perhaps Tim Burton’s depiction of a snow-covered suburban neighborhood, contrasted by a lone and dilapidated mansion that instilled my love for Anchorage. That being said, it is only with the greatest respect to the natural world that I admit that snow is not all beauty and romantics. It can be an entity of great terror and even greater power. This…
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Fruity Economics
By Evan Nasse “The Blueberry Party has gone too far this time!” Cries the leader of the Red Apple Party, Red Delicious, pointing his finger accusingly in the direction where the patch of Blueberries are seated. “You can’t just decide that we’re going to pay for pesticides for all of the produce! This is an outrage and we will not sit idly by. Starting the day of the implementation of the Affordable Pesticide Act we are implementing a Cropwide Closure unless you agree to our demands to defund Obamegranatecare!” Screams the Red Apple Party representative into the microphone. “You can’t shut down all of the crops just because you disapprove…
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Hatchery Experience
by Angela Wilkinson “What’s that smell?” a first grader remarks as I lead my last tour around the William Jack Hernandez Sport Fish Hatchery. I take a deep breath and think hard about the fishy odor I have grown so used to during my three month internship here at the hatchery this past summer. I tell the first graders that it’s the smell of fish and it’s the best smell in the world. I take the opportunity to ask this group of children if any of them have caught a fish before and, as usual, I learn that less than half of the group has ever been fishing. Fishing was…
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Land Rediscovered
By Simon Frez-Albrecht Anticipation—and exasperation—had been building all summer toward this one special day. I had the fortune of stepping in right at the end to wrap up loose ends and hop on the bandwagon. By the time I showed up, hundreds of hours had gone into planning and arranging the logistics of putting all 35 first-year students at APU on the Yukon River for ten days, not to mention the 10 staff going with them. The last week before departure, the students spent their mornings in class while we shopped for food and sorted gear. In the afternoons, we conducted lessons in wilderness living, basic water rescue, and geared…
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Haunting Tales
by Brance P. Peña As October concludes in its festive glory, it is impossible not to indulge in the fashionable darkness that the western world has modestly raised us on. This day is wholly dedicated to quality scares, horrendous sights, wicked practice, and candy. Though we only get one day of the year to truly hone in on, and appreciate, these dark pleasantries, it should come as no surprise to us that fear is alive and present, every single day. This article offers three stories, petrifyingly terrible in their own unique manners. The first tale is one of a near-death experience on the Eagle River; the second, a spectral…
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Take That, “The Man”
by Evan Nasse Originally posted to the 49 Writer’s Blog When I was first asked to be a guest blogger for this website, I had already sat through a 2 hour lecture from a Pulitzer Prize winning author, and had two of my short stories passed around a 400 level college writing course to be dissected and workshopped. My work was—is—going to be exposed; some will like it, others might hate it, there will be criticisms constructive and destructive in nature. Last year I was one of three scholarship winners for writing, and each of my professors that approach me and tell me I’m a brilliant writer have only read…
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Tiny Dancer
By M. Erickson It’s funny how certain songs can define an era in your life. The chords make their way from the speakers to your ears then right on in to your heart. In high school, the movie Almost Famous was released, and with it a whole new chance to fall in love with Elton John’s “Tiny Dancer.” It’s a great sing-a-long song, you almost can’t help but join in with the chorus: Hold me closer tiny dancerrrrr, count the headlights on the highway… My friends and I sang it all the time, especially on long road trips—my friend Terry would always do this little dance with his hands to…
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The Hunt
By Evan Nasse In my garage sits the skull of a caribou. It has a misshapen rack, jutting out the top of a bright, white, sloping caricature of an animals face, pockmarked with several holes. Where there was once a mouth, for the lackadaisical chewing of cud, are now rows of cracked teeth, and further up the snout are two empty spots where once eyes beamed. There, just above the right eye socket is the hole where I unceremoniously placed a bullet, using a worn hunting rifle owned by my grandfather. The miserable creatures’ offset rack and dome-piece sit bolted onto an ornate, hand crafted, wooden mantle. It was constructed…
