Overcast this morning, when we finally got up. Pete got up early in order to meet a friend who was to give him an assist fixing up the pickup that Bonnie gave us. It formerly belonged to her husband Bob, who passed away in February. I got up as he was heading out and decided on a whim to see if I could “attend” good morning yoga. I got out of the habit when on my bicycle tour and had not resumed this activity. I was able to sign on, on my own (getting onto a Zoom meeting is a multi-step process) without Pete’s assistance. It was a good class. I felt less anxious after. I have to keep reminding myself that this is worth the effort.

Bonnie and Pete check out the squash and tomatoes in the high tunnel

However, getting up early and Pete’s departure, and the appearance after several days of sunshine of the low-lying cloud cover, had made me feel disoriented. I just didn’t feel motivated to start getting things done. I forced myself to do what had to be done – I tended to the animals, typed up some dispatches, then went to the Sutton Post Office. After, I drove to the Buffalo Mine Road turnout, parked my vehicle, and walked the road/trail to the creek. My purpose in doing this walk was to check out Moose Creek and see if Pete and I might first be able to cross it by bicycle, and then by horseback.

Tomorrow Pete and I will do what I am calling a “recon” trip in preparation for the next horse portion of my Fairbanks to Valdez trip. I am now dubious. The creek water is quite deep in the middle, and the water is flowing fast. Sound is always a good indicator – and the rushing water was quite loud.

I mentioned this to Pete and he said it would be no problem to get across the creek. I had taken a video, but I could not find the cell phone. It’s in the house, somewhere. It is not out on the Hatcher Pass tundra, as is Sarah’s phone. Okay. So we’ll give it a go, tomorrow, early; early being 11 a.m. Pete will carry his bicycle all the way across and I will follow him, carrying mine. When I’m at the halfway point, he will come back and give me an assist.

I returned home and at 2:00 p.m. and lost all my remaining momentum. I decided one of the reasons was that Pete wasn’t around to bounce ideas off of. Dog, I would not do well living alone. This again brought to mine Bonnie, whose husband died. Since, she’s been inconsolable. When I think of her, I picture a robin having lost its mate. Bonnie and Bob, like Pete and I, were soulmates.

If Pete were suddenly gone, I would not stay here. There would be just too much weeding to do.

Next: 188. 7/7/20: Recon – Creek Crossing a No Go