It does not have to be tall but it will not be young. The branches will be quite thick throughout, especially wide on the lower levels, and most certainly of the coniferous variety. The needles provide shelter from above in the certain event of rain and do to the trees age, there will be a thick mat of needles, shed over many many seasons, to provide a comfortable base on which to lay a hide or blanket. The lowest branches must not be too low and should provide ample headroom for sitting and in some cases even standing (if you are not too tall). Perhaps there will be smaller branches down low that have broken off upon which you may hang your hat or lantern. There will definitely be plenty of room to spread out and be comfortable, even if you must spend several days there. A Zeke Tree will always feel like home.

And more than all the physical requirements, a Zeke Tree is about a feeling. A feeling of safety and generosity. Comfort and character. No one knows just how many Zeke Trees there are, but what is known is that each is quite unique.

The tree is best understood in context to the man. Side by side. There is a darkly colored felt hat. battered and sweat stained. Holes worn in the creases of the brim. A generous salt & pepper beard conceals a warm smile below kind eyes. There is a calm confidence & openness. Perhaps he may be accompanied by a grumpy mule named Frank. Perhaps not. In any case the Man and the Tree seem at once to be perfectly suited for each-other, as if the tree had been waiting, growing for maybe a  century or more, just for the day of his arrival.

Zeke Trees.

Chapter Five – Bering Dreams

The sodium vapor lights only reach into the night, 20 or 30 yards beyond the stern and your not sure if that’s a good thing or not. On one hand you can’t really see what’s out there, and on the other, your imagination fills in the blanks. Not that your imagination has to work very hard. You thought about this for a long time and you figured it would be hard but in the end your imagination pales before the reality. You imagine it may feel like this if you were swallowed by a dragon. Or a whale. Is this how Jonah felt? But whales are graceful, floating weightless under the surface. Up here there is no grace to be found and gravity has gone insane. All of your senses scream at you, telling you, you should not be here. You don’t belong. Your a trespasser. But there is no place else to go.

And the sea stretches out beyond the Stern until it vanishes into darkness. Smoking and boiling as if alive like some obsidian lava or inky bile. It rises up, up and up and you arch your neck but still can’t see the top beyond the sodium’s and then it’s falling and falling and now there is nothing past the stern for a few moments except emptiness that hangs like an eternity until it all comes crashing back up and up and up again.

The men around you are hunched, faces buried under layers and hoods, each living separate bad dreams within a collective nightmare. Eyes squinting inside pasty cracked skin rimmed with dried salt spray. Beards growing whiter and whiter as ice builds, sprouting from chin and nostril as if each minute they are growing older and older, growing impossibly old, the sea stealing more years of their lives than ever they will live until they become some strange waddling creatures that defy age altogether. As if time has no meaning here, each moment an eternity and it’s all some strange foggy dream that may have never happened or never ceases happening. You fear this will not end and you have been banished to some remote corner of hell where the fires have all burned out. And carrying all your sins and failures and mistakes on your back for all these years you still can’t understand how you deserved this fate. How did things go so wrong that you ended up here. The only blessing being that amidst all this water there are no reflections and no mirrors because if there were, then the man staring back would be a stranger to you. Would be someone you never want to see, eyes burning into you, accusing, angry. Asking why did you bring me here?

And a wave crashes down from over the shelter deck but seeming to come from everyplace at once. For a moment you are inside it and then it’s gone, leaving you on your hands and knees like a three legged dog, gasping for air and dripping and then the ship roles and your sliding, sliding on your back and the sea is reaching for you, into your pant-legs and sleeves your tightly buttoned collar and pulling you towards the rail and someplace far away there are men yelling and reaching for you and you slip by them all and slam into the rail wall and then one of them is there to pull you to your feet and you stagger away as the ice water runs like fire down your spine and your eyes burn from salt. You stagger away for something, anything to hold onto for a few seconds. To catch your breath.

- Staley Out

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Three weeks without a single stoplight and I feel like I could go three more years. Who needs em anyways. I always look both ways but rarely see a soul and when I do they’re happy to slow and let me go first. Always a nod or the tip of a hat. There’s no reason to hurry here and that’s fine with me. Who really needs to hurry anyways.

Last night while eating my canned chili for dinner, there were three rapid gunshots from right outside. A couple feet outside that is. A brown bear was looking for dinner inside the landlords kitchen wall. I’m just glad he didn’t want my chili cause they never use the door and my walls couldn’t keep him out. I guess the gunshots spooked him off. He’ll be back no doubt. They told me when I got here to never leave the front door open. I don’t mind.

I was refueling the truck this morning for my replacement and it only cost 94 dollars. I didn’t mind that either. Prices are higher with no stoplights but it’s worth it. I’m looking around the attendants office while he wrote me out a receipt and thinking you could never design a place this perfect. And he doesn’t even know it. A place like this grows over time. Evolves. Chaos and perfection. I kinda want to stay a while but he wouldn’t understand and it might get awkward. I could take a hundred pictures in that little 10 by 10 office. No one ever will.

I’m looking forward to being served a restaurant meal tonight but I’m also looking forward to coming back here next week. To no stoplights.

- Staley Out

And then I woke up late with sun streaming through the window and I could hear a magpie walking along the sill outside. Looking out I see a sky the color of blue I hadn’t witnessed since being here. I skipped coffee but toasted a sourdough English muffin, painfully aware of the lack of nutrition it contained but hoping I could keep it down. Some cliff bars and water and a carefully selected combination of layers in my daypack and I’m out the door in less than 10 minutes. The H60 went to Dutch and won’t be back until at least 3pm so I’m safe and you cant waste a day like this.

As I drive along the bluff overlooking the bay, the Aghileen Pinnacles smile at me from the Northeast. The first time they’ve shown themselves in three weeks and it feels like a gift. The normally white capped waters in the bay are smooth like glass and I can even see ducks playing in the water along the shore. Turning South I’m greeted by Frosty Mountain, naked of clouds and shining with a fresh coat of snow down to the low foothills. The first time this mile high long dead volcano revealed herself I stood gaping for probably a minute or more. I don’t really know what I expected out here but I didn’t expect mountains like that. And I’d been waiting since then for a chance to introduce myself and today is the day.

And as I draw closer, Frosty begins to change form and it occurs to me that mountains are like people. From afar they appear perhaps beautiful, or dangerous or maybe unassuming. If you get very close they can look entirely different, unrecognizable. You can even feel lost. It’s natural to be drawn to the top of a mountain, to the summit that summons your attention. But once you are upon a mountain you can no longer see the summit. But you can see more closely the dangers of the mountain. And feel them. Perhaps if you tread in the wrong parts the mountain will punish you. Or if you know mountains well you might know where to find shelter and safety. If you are lucky enough and work hard enough you might reach the summit. Only then can you see what the mountain see’s. You might revisit the mountain and she will show what has changed, in her and in yourself. As I’m driving closer I am thinking that all the metaphors that matter to me come from mountains.

I park and shoulder the pack and start up and I’m looking right into the sun and that doesn’t bother me except that I cant really see if there are any bears ahead of me. But I don’t really expect to see any up this far anyways. I clap my hands loudly every so often just to let them know I’m around. Just in case.

The terrain begins to gently grow steeper and looking back I can see the bay stretch out farther and farther as I gain altitude. It’s so beautiful. I hear the clucking of ptarmigan and looking down to my left is a steep drop-off to a valley perhaps a thousand feet bellow. There is a small winding creek and speckled, half changed for the winter ptarmigan, everywhere. Hundreds of them. I stop to rest and hydrate and marvel at how far I have come in a short time. I can tell my body is running perhaps only 60% and I am winded easily from such little cardio exercise in the last couple weeks.

I press on to the steepest part and take my time switch backing along the broken edge of the ridge through several inches of crusty snow.

It’s slower going now and I stop several times to rest but don’t mind getting to turn around and admire the view. Ocean in probably 220 degrees and the entire horizon spotted with ancient volcanoes. There must be thousands out here. I’m probably not even 1500 feet above sea level but it feels like I can see the earths curve. And then I arrive at the small plateau above the ridge-line, a saddle really, before the next easy climb and then the hard stuff. I had hoped to be able to see the summit from here but she is engulfed in clouds already and I know I will not continue. Even with the H60 gone I cant stray too far. And I cant afford to deplete my body any more than the dehydration and food poisoning already have. If there is a case, I need to be able to go.

I take a last look around and head down. As if to punctuate my choice it begins to snow. Sideways. This place is known for some of the planets worst weather and that’s about the only way I’ve ever seen anything come out of the sky. Sideways. I head down into a bowl I had seen on my right coming up. There seemed to be some old ruins I wanted to check out. I choose my steps carefully over the fairly steep, rocky ground. It’s always easier to get hurt descending and that would be pretty damn embarrassing.

I reach the ruins and it’s hard to tell what they once were. There is what must have been a water tank, it’s made of iron bound wood and is approximately 12 to 15 feet in diameter. There’s also some concrete pilings, a foundation and a couple timber poles driven into the earth. It’s all very old. I take some pictures with my iPhone and press on towards the truck. Now I’m really looking for bears as I have no place to go, no weapon and no cover. I walk fast and make a lot of noise.

And when I reach the truck and look back the mountain is once again free of clouds and smiling at me.

- Staley Out