Friday, November 27, 2009
IMPORTANT NOTICE--WE'RE MOVING TO A NEW SITE...
10,000 Days in Alaska is in the process moving everything you see here to a new site. If you've landed here, and want to keep abreast of new developments and announcements as book two gets closer to publication, go to the official website, www.10000daysinalaska.com and bookmark it. In the meantime, you can still order the book by following the links below.
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
Where Can I Buy 10,000 Days In Alaska?
Not yet in bookstores, you can purchase paperback or hardcover copies of this fascinating 528 page book. To get your copy, CLICK HERE.
For special requests or quantity orders, please direct your inquiry to Cloud 9 Publishing at iinadia@msn.com.
To download the ebook, CLICK HERE.
For special requests or quantity orders, please direct your inquiry to Cloud 9 Publishing at iinadia@msn.com.
Friday, October 3, 2008
10,000 Days In Alaska - The First 12 Years
Front cover image above shows the Nelchina River south of Norman and Sylvia's log home. Hunting, fishing, prospecting, friends and neighbors that share this stretch of the Glenn Highway--including photographs, they're all here in this book, in Norman's own words. To contact Norman "Rawhide" Wilkins, send an email to norman.wilkins09@gmail.com. Friday, September 12, 2008
About Norman and Sylvia Wilkins
Norman Wilkins and Slovenia-born Ladislava Kolenc (Sylvia to those who know her) met in postwar Gorizia Italy in 1946, marrying there in 1948. They moved to Iowa where Norman grew up, and farmed in several communities until 1957 when they moved to Motley, Minnesota and built the Tamarack Dell dairy farm. There, they raised their family and farmed until the late 1970’s.
Norman had long felt the pull of the north, drawn to the mystique of Alaska—“The Last American Frontier” many said, and once the children were on their own, that desire to go north grew stronger. He made more than one hunting trip to Alaska before the 1978 expedition included in this book, and as the trips unfolded, so did Norman’s desire to make Alaska his permanent home—to be a part of the expansive wilderness and yes, explore for gold!
Sylvia was not so enthusiastic in the beginning. (Bear in mind, those first few years they lived in a one-room, 12’x16’ plywood cabin with no indoor toilet, no electricity and no running water.) Once, after they settled in Nelchina, Sylvia was asked how she liked Alaska, to which she replied, “I really like the people here, but you can take Alaska and give it back to the Eskimos!”
They did find gold in Alaska. They found it in the air, the mountains, the wildlife and especially in the people—the people they worked shoulder to shoulder with and shared their table with, each one weaving an independent piece of the tapestry of everyday life along the Glenn Highway during those years.
The contents of this book have been transcribed from Norman’s notebook-style pages as originally written with the exception of occasional edits and insertions for clarity. Book two, the second part of this story is already in the planning stages.
Norman is well known as an honest man—to the nth degree. Case in point, the title of this book. He questioned it, so I did the math. The 1978 trip (August 11 to October 29) took 79 days. Eight months of work and planning prior to moving to Alaska permanently, totaled 240 days. June 29, 1979 until May 3, 2005 (when they moved back to Minnesota) encompassed 9,066 days. That gives us 9,385 days (not including trips to Alaska prior to 1978). I think we’re good with the numbers.
Norman and Sylvia currently live in Minnesota, but a big part of Norman’s heart remains in Alaska. —Nadia Giordana, RMP Books
Norman had long felt the pull of the north, drawn to the mystique of Alaska—“The Last American Frontier” many said, and once the children were on their own, that desire to go north grew stronger. He made more than one hunting trip to Alaska before the 1978 expedition included in this book, and as the trips unfolded, so did Norman’s desire to make Alaska his permanent home—to be a part of the expansive wilderness and yes, explore for gold!
Sylvia was not so enthusiastic in the beginning. (Bear in mind, those first few years they lived in a one-room, 12’x16’ plywood cabin with no indoor toilet, no electricity and no running water.) Once, after they settled in Nelchina, Sylvia was asked how she liked Alaska, to which she replied, “I really like the people here, but you can take Alaska and give it back to the Eskimos!”
They did find gold in Alaska. They found it in the air, the mountains, the wildlife and especially in the people—the people they worked shoulder to shoulder with and shared their table with, each one weaving an independent piece of the tapestry of everyday life along the Glenn Highway during those years.
The contents of this book have been transcribed from Norman’s notebook-style pages as originally written with the exception of occasional edits and insertions for clarity. Book two, the second part of this story is already in the planning stages.
Norman is well known as an honest man—to the nth degree. Case in point, the title of this book. He questioned it, so I did the math. The 1978 trip (August 11 to October 29) took 79 days. Eight months of work and planning prior to moving to Alaska permanently, totaled 240 days. June 29, 1979 until May 3, 2005 (when they moved back to Minnesota) encompassed 9,066 days. That gives us 9,385 days (not including trips to Alaska prior to 1978). I think we’re good with the numbers.
Norman and Sylvia currently live in Minnesota, but a big part of Norman’s heart remains in Alaska. —Nadia Giordana, RMP Books
Wednesday, July 2, 2008
Dangerous Detour--The Adventure Begins
It was 1979, and after 8 months of work and planning, loaded down with 73,000 pounds of gear and equipment, my wife Sylvia and I left Motley, Minnesota for Alaska. We were on our way to work a gold mining claim for someone we knew there.Not far into Canada, we had problems with the truck’s transmission and had to make repairs in Edmonton, leaving there early on July 7th. When we learned a bridge was washed out on the Al-can, we took a detour through Prince George and on up to the Cassiar Highway.
Coming in to Prince George, Canada, there is a long, steep hill that goes down to the river there. Then you meet the railroad track and cross the river on a bridge barely wide enough to accommodate the tracks and a narrow road on each side of them for vehicles. As I started down the hill, the load we were carrying was pushing the truck hard. The engine is a Cummins 250 and it is to be run at 1,800 to 2,200 RPMs. If you push it over 2,200 RPMs the engine can fail. So as the RPMs increased, I would kick it up another gear. That would relieve the engine, but we would run a little faster each time I did that.
It was awfully windy and one of the truck flaps got to really flapping around, knocking the valve open on the air tank causing our brakes to overheat--now we didn’t have brakes! I knew once we got to the bottom of this hill, we were going to have to make a sharp turn onto the bridge. I’m kickin’ it up another gear—and another gear—and another gear. We’re picking up speed fast. Thinking we weren’t going to make it, I told Sylvia to jump while she had the chance but she wouldn’t do it. I have to give her a lot of credit—she never screamed.
We were going faster and faster down the hill and finally at the 15th gear, the truck reaches 2,800 RPMs. I expected it to blow any second. When we reached the sharp turn approaching that narrow, 9 foot wide lane, we were looking right down into the river. I made up my mind I was gonna put that truck across the bridge. Going through the turn, our rig leaned dangerously out, threatening to go over—but it held. The trailer cracked the whip behind us and I put her right into that slot—never even touched a mirror on either side. There were only inches. The truck got started down this lane and the trailer slid over and we blew out the two outside tires on the right side of it. The truck started slowing down when we got across the bridge. There was a dirt road going straight ahead. We went down that a couple of city blocks, finally coming to a stop. We pulled over to the side and just sat there and talked a little bit to regroup ourselves.
I said to Sylvia, “You know, I think maybe we should dig that bottle of whiskey out of the grub barrel. We haven’t had a drink in a week. Maybe we need one right now.” She thought that was a good idea and we each had a drink. We stayed put and slept there for the night. ¨
Taken from the manuscript of Norman’s book, 10,000 DAYS IN ALASKA.
We were going faster and faster down the hill and finally at the 15th gear, the truck reaches 2,800 RPMs. I expected it to blow any second. When we reached the sharp turn approaching that narrow, 9 foot wide lane, we were looking right down into the river. I made up my mind I was gonna put that truck across the bridge. Going through the turn, our rig leaned dangerously out, threatening to go over—but it held. The trailer cracked the whip behind us and I put her right into that slot—never even touched a mirror on either side. There were only inches. The truck got started down this lane and the trailer slid over and we blew out the two outside tires on the right side of it. The truck started slowing down when we got across the bridge. There was a dirt road going straight ahead. We went down that a couple of city blocks, finally coming to a stop. We pulled over to the side and just sat there and talked a little bit to regroup ourselves.
I said to Sylvia, “You know, I think maybe we should dig that bottle of whiskey out of the grub barrel. We haven’t had a drink in a week. Maybe we need one right now.” She thought that was a good idea and we each had a drink. We stayed put and slept there for the night. ¨
Taken from the manuscript of Norman’s book, 10,000 DAYS IN ALASKA.
Friday, January 11, 2008
Tuesday, January 1, 2008
Exerpt From A Letter - Nelchina, Alaska
...More has happened since I started the letter, this will fill you in to date.
About a week after the bear hunt, I took the Suzuki to the Ballanger pass trail head for a sight-seeing get-in-the-mountains trip.
Within two miles on the trail, I was seeing lots of caribou. Some of the mountain slopes had groups of several hundred animals, with many groups like that in sight. (Later I heard that a local old-timer bush pilot estimated 10,000 caribou.) I took a picture of a small bunch close to me and slowly drove down the trail, giving them all the time they needed to cross in front of me. At the top of the pass on the other side—the same view, ‘boo’ everywhere.
I shut off the machine, sat on it, took more pictures, and simply absorbed the sights and sounds. Large bulls, small bulls, yearlings, cows, calves (many at 30-100 yards), were eating, lying down, chewing their cuds, resting. The animal smell, their scent, urine and belching was strong in the air.
Aware that I was there, they largely ignored me, or so it seemed. Few made eye contact. Some cows were making a rapid, grunt-like sound. With luck, I caught a cow doing this; directly, a calf came running to her and began to nurse, butting very hard with its head in the process.
The day was beautiful, warm, sunny, some breeze. Experiencing all of this within yards of me was very moving. I felt lucky and fortunate to have been a witness.
Later, a friend said, “I wish you would have had my camcorder with you.”
Yes, it would have made an outstanding film.
—From a 1997 letter written by Norman Wilkins, Nelchina, Alaska
About a week after the bear hunt, I took the Suzuki to the Ballanger pass trail head for a sight-seeing get-in-the-mountains trip.
Within two miles on the trail, I was seeing lots of caribou. Some of the mountain slopes had groups of several hundred animals, with many groups like that in sight. (Later I heard that a local old-timer bush pilot estimated 10,000 caribou.) I took a picture of a small bunch close to me and slowly drove down the trail, giving them all the time they needed to cross in front of me. At the top of the pass on the other side—the same view, ‘boo’ everywhere.
I shut off the machine, sat on it, took more pictures, and simply absorbed the sights and sounds. Large bulls, small bulls, yearlings, cows, calves (many at 30-100 yards), were eating, lying down, chewing their cuds, resting. The animal smell, their scent, urine and belching was strong in the air.
Aware that I was there, they largely ignored me, or so it seemed. Few made eye contact. Some cows were making a rapid, grunt-like sound. With luck, I caught a cow doing this; directly, a calf came running to her and began to nurse, butting very hard with its head in the process.
The day was beautiful, warm, sunny, some breeze. Experiencing all of this within yards of me was very moving. I felt lucky and fortunate to have been a witness.
Later, a friend said, “I wish you would have had my camcorder with you.”
Yes, it would have made an outstanding film.
—From a 1997 letter written by Norman Wilkins, Nelchina, Alaska
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