Turning 30

I did it, made it past the three-oh landmark that is the halfway point to retirement. Or something like that. Regardless, I have now exited my roaring 20s and entered into what is supposed to be the ripe old age of maturity. What can I say about it so far... I have learned more in the past two weeks from a couple of eskimos than I would have staring at New York Times, Google and Wikipedia all day. My favorite muscle in my hand has returned, if only for now; this year has taught me that it will leave as soon as my fingers start pounding the keyboard again, it’s a muscle that only comes with gripping things like a shovel, hammer or axe. I’ve also learned in no particular order how to maunouver a snowmachine/snogo/ snowscooter/ that-thing-that-travels- on-snow, fish under the ice, dig holes, face my fears, drive dogs, scoop their crap, speak about half a dozen words in eskimo, endure cold, colder and coldest, go without shower, telephone, internet, running water, electricity, lattes and other modern conveniences for weeks on end, sow fur things, appreciate wool, and laugh at just about anything that goes wrong.

Mostly I learned that instincts are present to be followed, and a little spontaneous behavior never hurts. I also learned that turning 30 is totally a mental thing, because I feel no different than before. On the contrary, I think it made me younger.

Photo taken by LuLu Nelson on the Kobuk Lake outside Kotzebue. It’s a Sheefish.