CHAPTER 16 – A WELL-EARNED VACATION
Nome, Alaska. Population: 3,500 in 1998.
16:25 (Alaska Time)
Tuesday, March 3, 1998 ‘C’
Nome Airport, Alaska, U.S.A.
Greta surprised the other passengers disembarking from the small twin-turboprop aircraft that had brought her to Nome from Anchorage by rolling in the snow covering the tarmac of the small airport while screaming with joy. When she got back on her feet, one of the passengers, a mature woman with native Inuit features, smiled to her.
‘’Let me guess, miss: Nome is your home and you missed it a lot.’’
‘’That is correct, madam. I also missed snow a lot: I just spent four months in Northern Africa.’’
‘’North Africa?! I would probably die from the heat over there, miss.’’
‘’You could die from a lot of things in Somalia, madam, including from the heat.’’
‘’Somalia? Dear God! That place looked like Hell in the news. What were you doing there? Humanitarian work?’’
‘’Of sorts, madam.’’ replied Greta, not wanting to publicize the fact that she had been fighting in Somalia as a marine. She was actually hoping that her three-week vacation time, apart from allowing her to see her father again, would bring her some much-needed peace and rest after the killing and fighting she had done in Somalia. Grabbing back her big backpack and her rifle case, she walked to the entrance of the airport’s terminal, which was part of an aircraft hangar building used by Bering Air, the airline company she had just used. Once inside, she went right away to the main entrance, heading for the taxi station outside. Luckily, she was able to grab the second and last taxi present at that station before it could be commandeered by another passenger from Anchorage. The driver, well enveloped in warm winter clothes in order to stave off the minus sixteen degrees Celsius cold, smiled to her via his mirror.
‘’Where to, miss?’’
‘’My family home, at the northern end of Steadman Street. It will actually be the very last house on the street.’’
‘’Steadman Street it is!’’ pronounced the driver while starting his engine and rolling out of his parking spot. As the taxi started driving down the snow-covered streets of Nome, Greta looked around her with delight: Nome actually looked a lot like her native village of Skaulo in Sweden, one reason her father had come to live here after leaving Sweden in order to forget the loss of his wife, who had died from a cancer. However, with a population of 3,500 persons, half of whom were native Inuit, Nome was much bigger than Skaulo had been but its economy was nonetheless based mainly on subsistence activities like fishing, hunting and trapping, like in Skaulo. Excitement grew gradually in her as her taxi approached her father’s house and then stopped in front of it. Leaving a good tip to the driver, Greta nearly ran with her two pieces of luggage to the front door of her family house and knocked on the door, her heart beating fast in her chest. After half a minute or so and another series of knocks by Greta, the front door opened, revealing her father, Bjorn Visby, clad in a turtleneck sweater and dark trousers. Both screamed with joy at the same time while throwing themselves in each other’s arms. After hugging Greta for long seconds, her father then opened his door wide and signaled her to come in.
‘’Come in, Greta, so that you could be warm inside our house.’’
‘’Let me just grab my two things first, Father.’’ replied Greta before taking hold of her backpack and rifle case and carrying them inside. Bjorn Visby closed and locked the door behind her, then hurried to help her with her backpack.
‘’Let me carry this to your room upstairs, Greta.’’
‘’Thanks but no, Father. In the marines, we have a saying: one man, one kit. I will manage.’’
‘’As you wish, Greta. In the meantime, I will heat up a pot of strong coffee for you.’’
‘’That I won’t mind, Father.’’
She removed her snow-covered boots before climbing the wooden stairs leading to the upper floor, where the bedroom she had used as a teenage girl was. It wasn’t a very big room but, compared to the accommodations she had to use aboard the U.S.S. GUADALCANAL and in Somalia, it felt like a near-palace to her. Taking the time to strip off her winter coat, tuque and gloves, she then quickly emptied her backpack, dispersing its content inside the drawers of the big chest set against one wall and inside the clothes closet of the bedroom. Once she had finished with that, she sat for a moment on the big bed, appreciating its comfort, then went back down the stairs, finding her father in the kitchen. Approaching him from behind, Greta then put her arms around his torso and hugged him, her right cheek glued to his back.
‘’It is nice to be back home for a while, Father.’’
‘’After those months in Somalia? I bet! How long will you be able to stay in Nome?’’
‘’I have a three-week-long leave pass but I will have to take a plane back to Camp Lejeune on Saturday the 21st of this month.’’
‘’More time with you would have been nice but I will have to take what you can offer, Greta. The coffee is ready: fill yourself a cup and then we will talk about your experiences in Somalia, if you are willing to talk about them. I know that some soldiers prefer to keep their more difficult experiences about war to themselves.’’
‘’Some parts of my time in Somalia were indeed quite violent but I was not traumatized by them, Father. I will be happy to share my stories with you.’’
‘’Good! You reassure me.’’
Soon, she had poured herself a cup of steaming coffee and went to sit in the living room with her father. There, Bjorn patiently let her tell him her stories at her own rhythm, not pushing her for details. She spoke for a good half hour, concluding in a sober tone of voice.
‘’Overall, I believe that my experience in Somalia was a positive one, Father. While I had to fight and kill many times, I ended killing men who richly deserved death, while my actions and those of our marines made life better for thousands of poor civilians who had been suffering greatly from that obscene civil war. It was particularly gratifying for me when we were able to free a large group of hostages, many of them Europeans, from a pirate warlord. By the way, I personally killed that warlord.’’
Those last words made Bjorn grin.
‘’I know! I saw you on television, standing firm in the middle of a dirt street while aiming your rifle at an incoming car. You have become quite a celebrity here in Nome, Greta.’’
‘’Really?’’ said Greta, amused. ‘’What else did you see about me on television?’’
‘’Oh, there was that small ceremony in Somalia when your battalion commander awarded you with the Silver Star for gallantry. That earned me multiple pints of beer from the other patrons of the saloon where I saw that ceremony on television.’’
‘’Hey, maybe I should visit that saloon during my stay.’’
‘’You certainly would be most welcome at the Board of Trade Saloon, Greta. So, what would you like to do during your stay here?’’
‘’I would very much like to accompany you on some hunting, fishing or trapping excursion during my vacation, Father: I miss Alaska’s nature, especially after all these months in a desertic country with very few trees. Are you due to go on such an excursion soon, either for yourself or as a guide for some visiting tourists?’’
‘’I am! While we are still too early in the year for the legal hunting seasons on most types of big game, I was due to guide in four days a group of three visiting tourists from New York who want to visit the old ghost town of Council and do some photo hunting.’’
‘’Tourists from New York?’’ said Greta, amused. ‘’And I suppose that you will have these greenhorns{30} spend one night in the old Ophir Saloon?’’
‘’Of course! Every tourist who visits Council wants to see the Ophir Saloon. You are of course most welcome to accompany me on that excursion, Greta.’’
‘’I would be most happy to come, Father. Talking of ghost towns, I brought back from Somalia a couple of war booty pieces that you may find interesting and which I intend to pack for that excursion to Council. Let me just get my rifle case upstairs.’’
A bit intrigued and certainly curious, Bjorn waited while Greta ran upstairs, coming back down a minute later with her rigid rifle case. She smiled to her father while putting down the case on the low coffee table of the lounge and opening it.
‘’Warning: you may become envious about those two pieces, which could prove useful on hunting trips around Nome.’’
Bjorn effectively opened his eyes wide when Greta opened her rifle case, revealing her SVD DRAGUNOV sniper rifle and her gold-plated DESERT EAGLE pistol inside.
‘’My God! And you really found such marvelous pieces in a hole like Somalia?’’
‘’Somalia may effectively be a hole by American standards but it is awash in weapons from all around the World. Both this rifle and the pistol were taken by me from dead Somali gunmen. This SVD DRAGUNOV is actually the standard sniper rifle of the Russian Army and is chambered for the 7.62 X 54R cartridge, thus is powerful enough to legally hunt a moose with it. Its scope’s reticle can be illuminated, making it effective in dark environments, and I was able to consistently hit a man-sized target at 800 meters with it. As for this DESERT EAGLE, it is chambered in .44 Magnum caliber and, with the correct type of ammunition, would be suitable as a self-defense sidearm against grizzly bears. Feel free to examine them, Father.’’
‘’I certainly will, Greta.’’ replied Bjorn before gently grabbing the DRAGUNOV and then examining it from all angles.
‘’This is a really nice rifle. Many of my hunting friends will be jealous of you.’’
‘’And I am dying to be able to hunt with it while in Alaska.’’
Putting the rifle back in the case, her father then took the DESERT EAGLE, admiring its gold-plated looks and its impressive bulk for a pistol.
‘’The .44 Magnum is effectively considered a legal caliber for hunting bears and boars. However, using it against a charging moose could prove to be a costly mistake. Well, with this rifle and pistol, you will be properly armed for that excursion to Council.’’
‘’I still would like to visit a local gun store in order to find the proper sort of hunting ammunition for them, Father.’’
‘’We can do that tomorrow, Greta…after I pay you a pint of beer at the Board of Trade Saloon tonight.’’ said Bjorn in a definitive tone.
20:09 (Alaska Time)
The Board of Trade Saloon
Front Street, Nome, Alaska
Greta went along her father’s suggestion that they walk together down Steadman Street to Front Street, the shoreside main street of Nome, to get to the Board of Trade Saloon, with the reasoning that if they drank too much beer there, then they would not have to drive under the influence and risk a severe ticket if caught. Nome being a small town, that represented a walk of only a few hundred meters and, for Greta, walking out in the Alaska cold air was something she had been missing. When they arrived at their destination, Bjorn showed with visible amusement to Greta the sign under the name of the Board of Trade Saloon.
‘’Headquarters for the sin city of Nome, Alaska. Before you left and joined the marines, you were still too young to legally drink in public. It is now time for you to be initiated to the sinful ways of Nome, Greta.’’
‘’Uh, I am okay with a beer or two, Father, but I am not a big drinker and I hate to wake up in the morning with a pounding headache. So, please show restraint towards me tonight.’’
‘’What?’’ exclaimed Bjorn in a falsely indignant tone. ‘’A marine who doesn’t like to drink? That’s blasphemous! Okay, okay: I will go easy on you tonight. Let’s go in!’’
Entering the saloon via its old, battered front door, the duo walked into the main hall, finding it half-lit and somewhat obscure, even though it was nearly full with customers drinking and conversing at tables or along the bar’s counter. The moment Greta was in, nearly all the men present snapped their heads towards her, throwing lecherous looks at her. Ignoring the looks, Greta followed her father to the bar, where he spoke to the barman.
‘’Two beers on tap for me and my daughter, Jim.’’
‘’Your daughter?’’ replied the barman while fetching two mugs. ‘’The one we saw fighting in Somalia?’’
‘’I do have only one daughter, Jim, remember?’’ said Bjorn sarcastically, making the barman smile with embarrassment.
‘’Of course!’’
The barman then filled the two mugs with blond beer and put them in front of Bjorn and Greta, smiling widely to the latter.
‘’And one beer for Sergeant Calamity Jane!’’
‘’Sergeant Calamity Jane?! They have a new nickname for me now, Father?’’
‘’Well, you got promoted to sergeant, right? So they had to promote your nickname too.’’
‘’Uh, right!’’ could only say Greta before taking a first sip from her beer.
08:43 (Alaska Time)
Saturday, March 7, 1998 ‘C’
Nome Airport
‘’Aah, here they are!’’ said Bjorn Visby, who had been waiting with Greta inside the terminal of the Nome Airport for his three customers. He then went to the small family of three, composed of a couple in its mid to late forties and of a young man barely out of his teens.
‘’Mister and Misses Riley? I am Bjorn Visby, your guide for your excursion to Council.’’
‘’Pleased to meet you, Mister Visby.’’ replied James Riley, a solidly-built man with some graying hair. ‘’This is my wife Denise and my son Richard. We came to Nome mostly for Richard’s benefit: he studies photography and wanted to do a photo safari in Alaska. Mind you, I am myself an occasional hunter and I do like nature, like my wife. I was told that this corner of Alaska has some particularly beautiful vistas.’’
‘’The whole of Alaska has beautiful vistas, Mister Riley, but the region around Nome is definitely worth the look. Oh, I was about to forget to present my daughter Greta to you.’’
The Riley’s then shook hand with Greta. Bjorn didn’t miss the mutual spark of interest that appeared then in the eyes of Greta and of the young Richard Riley. To be honest, most girls would definitely find Richard Riley, an athletic blond boy with blue eyes, more than handsome. Denise Riley also noted the exchange of sparks but didn’t say a word about it, simply smiling instead. Bjorn then looked at the few sports bags and backpacks the Riley family had brought with them.
‘’Let me and Greta help you with your luggage. My car is parked in front of the terminal. Once all inside it we will start our journey to Council: it is connected to Nome by a 57 miles-long gravel road.’’
‘’And what kind of car do you have, if I may ask?’’
Bjorn beamed with pride as he answered James Riley.
‘’A Ford EXPEDITION, Trailhawk-Edition. It is the civilian variant of the U.S. Army 4 X 4 TRAILBLAZER utility vehicle. The EXPEDITION is the perfect vehicle for outdoorsmen wanting to go through rough terrain. It has extra-large tires, high ground clearance and great robustness. It also has plenty of space for up to five persons and plenty of kit. Follow me, please.’’
As the group started walking towards the terminal’s main entrance on the town side, Denise Riley started speaking with Greta, who had grabbed one of Denise’s bags.
‘’So, Greta, you hunt and trap with your father?’’
‘’Uh, not really, Misses Riley. I am presently on vacation to visit my father and just completed a tour of duty in Somalia. I am in the U.S. Marine Corps.’’
Those words had the effect of a lightning bolt on Richard Riley, who grinned while eyeing Greta.
‘’Somalia? You aren’t by chance the one they nicknamed ‘The Viking Shield Maiden’?’’
Greta hid her exasperation at this nickname business but kept smiling as she answered Richard.
‘’Yes, it’s me but I would much prefer that you simply call me ‘Greta’. The marines who fought with me were all worthy of admiration and respect.’’
Denise Riley nodded her head at that, appreciating Greta’s modesty.
‘’Our marines truly did some fine work in Somalia, cleaning up this nest of pirates.’’
Snow, pushed by a fairly strong and decidedly freezing wind, greeted the group when they emerged outside of the terminal, on the parking lot side. Thankfully, they were all clad in winter clothes made for arctic weather. Opening the rear hatch of his Ford EXPEDITION, Bjorn then loaded inside the kit brought by his customers. As for his own kit and that of Greta, it was already in his vehicle. The five of them sat in the 4 X 4, with Bjorn taking place in the driver’s seat, and they then rolled out of their parking spot. As Bjorn was driving towards the town of Nome, situated about four kilometers from the airport, he spoke to his customers, looking at them via his rear-view mirror and giving them some information about their planned excursion.
‘’As I said before, the ghost town of Council is about 57 miles from Nome, to the East. It counts 25 buildings built at the end of the 19th Century as a gold mining center. When the gold was all gone after a few decades of exploitation, the town was then abandoned. A handful of persons still lived in the town until a few years ago, living off the land, but the last of them have either died or left by now. Once in Council, we will lodge at the old Ophir Saloon during our stay there. By lodging, don’t expect comfortable bedrooms with beds and room service: the Ophir Saloon, while still in surprisingly good condition for its age, is utterly empty, like the other buildings in the town. However, it still will help us a lot by sheltering us from the snow and the wind. We will thus erect our tents inside the Saloon, where we will be able to use the old fireplace there to warm ourselves and cook our meals. When using that fireplace, you will have to be careful about not starting an accidental fire that could burn down the building. That old wood is dry and will burn easily.’’
‘’Talking of meals,’’ asked James Riley, ‘’you told us in your emails that we didn’t need to bring our own rations with us. What will we eat during our stay in Council?’’
‘’I have a large thermos crate in the back that is full of meat, canned stuff and dried rations, Mister Riley. We will have plenty for our stay. I also brought with me some fishing equipment and a panoply of rifles of various calibers in order to hunt if need be. While we are presently out of hunting season for most big game species, subsistence hunting and fishing is allowed for the local residents of the region, within reasonable limits of course.’’
‘’Of course! I must say that, while my son Richard was dying to come and take pictures of the nature here, I was myself anxious to come as well. I always liked the outdoors and miss it a lot in Manhattan.’’
‘’I can understand that perfectly, Mister Riley. Me and Greta lived in the North of Sweden before emigrating to the United States, hunting, trapping and fishing for a living. I also guided the occasional visitors to our region and worked part-time as forestry warden for the authorities of the Lapland Region. When I came to Nome, I also acted here as a nature conservation officer and am still licensed in that capacity. It doesn’t pay much but, with the revenues I make from fur trapping, I manage to live decently. Living with nature is actually my biggest payback: I could never survive living in a big city. And you, Mister Riley? What kind of job do you have, if I may ask?’’
‘’Me? I am a bank executive in Manhattan and am one of the vice-presidents of my bank. I make quite a lot of money but life in New York can be expensive and the stress of the job can be high. I am hoping that this Alaska excursion will help me decompress from my financial work.’’
‘’You certainly came to the right place for that, Mister Riley.’’
‘’Please, let us drop the ‘mister’ thing: let’s go simply by our first names.’’
‘’That’s fine with me…James.’’
Driving through Nome, they soon started rolling on a simple gravel road covered with snow and ice. Bjorn slowed down, then stopped when they approached a large sign by the side of the road, so that the Riley’s could read it. Denise opened wide her eyes as she read the warning on the sign.
‘’Travel beyond this point not recommended… If you must use this road, expect extreme cold/heavy snow, carry cold weather survival gear and tell someone where you are going. Wow! You won’t see that kind of sign around Manhattan.’’
That made the other passengers and Bjorn laugh briefly in amusement, with Bjorn adding his comment to that.
‘’That’s Alaska for you, Denise.’’
‘’Let me get out for a moment and take a picture of this road sign, please.’’ pleaded Richard Riley. He then got out with his professional grade digital still camera and took three shots of it before returning into the car.
They ended up stopping another three times along the way, first to let a huge bull moose, then a whole herd of caribous and, finally, a mama black bear and her two cubs cross the gravel road. An ecstatic Richard profited from these encounters to take numerous pictures of the animals. He also was able to take distant pictures of a pair of rare Muskox and was a truly happy young man by the time that the Ford EXPEDITION approached Council. With the gravel road now running along one side of the River Niukluk, Bjorn slowed down to a near crawl, in order to let Richard take pictures of the few derelict wooden houses and buildings they passed by. However, his father had something else in mind than old buildings as he examined the nearby river.
‘’Are there fish in this river, Bjorn?’’
‘’Certainly, James! I come here often to hunt, trap and fish. You have plenty of Northern Pikes in there, which are considered a nuisance because of their tendency to eat all the other fish, and you can catch as many as you want. There are also a lot of Whitefish, whose fishing is not regulated. Unfortunately, it is still too early in the year to fish Salmon. We certainly can try catching some fish in order to vary our menu during our stay. The local species of fowl and ducks are also open to hunting year-long. With luck and good aim, we may be able to savor a nice stew or grilled fowl.’’
‘’Now, that would be really nice.’’ replied James Riley with a big smile.
Getting to what seemed to have been the center of the ghost town, Bjorn stopped and parked in front of an old, two-story building made of logs. He then pointed proudly at it to his customers.
‘’Ladies and gentleman, welcome to the Ophir Saloon, the best saloon in Council. Let’s unload our stuff and install ourselves inside.’’
The Ophir Saloon in Council, Alaska, circa 1907.
‘’Wow! It actually looks fairly nice, considering its age.’’ said Denise Riley while eyeing the old wooden structure.
‘’I helped that a bit by boarding up with plywood or covering with clear plastic sheeting the windows which were broken, so that the wind wouldn’t push snow inside and make the wooden structure rot from the inside. With our tents assembled in the upper rooms and with the old pot-bellied cast iron stoves I installed in those rooms to provide some heating, we will be quite comfortable…as Alaskan standards go, of course.’’
‘’Uh, what about the toilets? Do they work?’’ asked rather naively Richard, making Bjorn grin.
‘’Of course not, for the good reason that they never installed toilets in Council. However, the outhouses still work perfectly well. The winter cold is even making them more bearable to use, as the shit at the bottom of the sewer pits is frozen and stinks less.’’
Everybody then laughed at the face the poor Richard made at those words. However, Bjorn gave a reassuring smile to the young man.
‘’Don’t worry about needing to freeze your butt while relieving yourself, Richard: the Ophir Saloon still has a well-equipped bathroom with an old-fashioned bathtub, no water pipes included, a counter with two wash basins and a pierced chair with a bucket under it, plus a wood stove right in the bathroom if you want hot water for your bath. However, if you use the pierced chair, you will then have to go out to empty it in the outhouse situated behind the saloon.’’
That made James Riley laugh even more.
‘’God! I really needed this to forget about my paperwork in Manhattan.’’
Emptying the big Ford EXPEDITION of its kit and supplies and bringing the lot inside the old saloon took the group a half-hour, with their tents taking another half-hour to assemble and erect them inside two of the upper floor rooms. With that done, Bjorn rubbed his hands together while smiling to his customers and guests.
‘’Well, what do you say about going to the river and try our luck there with our fishing poles, to see if we could catch something fresh for lunch? In the meantime, Greta could go hunt for small game and bring Richard along, so that he could photograph the nature and fauna at the same time.’’
‘’That sounds like a great idea, Bjorn. Let’s get our fishing gear.’’
With Richard, who already had his photo equipment with him, following her, Greta went to her own kit bag and backpack, in order to select her weapons and equipment for their short hunting and sightseeing excursion. She ended up picking her binoculars, a thermos full of hot coffee, a first-aid kit, a big hunting knife, a .22 caliber bolt-action rifle for hunting small game like hares, a pump-action 12-gauge shotgun for birds and, finally, her big gold-plated DESERT EAGLE for self-protection. Added to that was a small pocket radio, which she switched on before placing it in a cargo pocket of her winter parka.
‘’That’s so that we stay in communication with my father, who has his own radio. In the wild of Alaska, it is always a good idea to keep in contact with someone else, if at all feasible, in case of an accident or misadventure.’’
‘’Uh, what kind of misadventure could happen to us, Greta?’’
‘’Oh, you could fall and break a leg or sprain an ankle, or we could be attacked by a famished bear. Bears are in fact in the process of coming out of their winter hibernation and they will then wake up mightily hungry and will attack about anything edible they will find.’’
‘’Oh, I see! And this huge pistol, it can stop a bear?’’
‘’If you know how to aim it correctly, yes! However, don’t miss your shot or simply wound the bear, or you will have it doubly angry at you. By the way, bears run faster than a man can.’’
‘’Oh!’’ could only say the poor Richard, with his facial expression making Greta giggle.
‘’You’re ready? Then let’s go!’’
Leaving together the old saloon, Greta led Richard towards the nearby river but went to the opposite direction of the one taken by her father and Richard’s parents. Walking rather quickly for the first 200 meters, she then slowed down her pace while scanning the surrounding landscape, stopping briefly from time to time in order to use her binoculars. At one point she stopped and put one knee down, motioning to Richard to do the same before pointing something to him in the distance.
‘’Use that big zoom lens you have on your camera and look in that direction: there is a hare some 400 feet away. That hare’s fur is white, so it won’t be evident at first.’’
Rising and pointing his digital camera and adjusting the focus on his zoom lens, Richard was able to spot the hare after quite a few seconds of searching for it.
‘’Damn! That hare is really difficult to spot with its white fur over the white snow. You have an excellent vision indeed, Greta.’’
‘’Thanks! Is that hare close enough for you to be able to take a good picture of it?’’
‘’Uh, it is still a bit far for that. If we could get to within 200 feet or less of it…’’
‘’I doubt that it will let us get that close to it, Richard, but we will try to approach it slowly. If it spots us and flees, then I will have to shoot at it then: we do need to catch something for lunch, after all.’’