Breakfast was good. Mush, dried fruit, and “grit my teeth” powdered milk. I made a loaf of bread, but had no butter, so I toasted a slice and dunked it into oil and vinegar for lunch. I dressed it up with two pickles left behind in the refrigerator. For dinner I’ll have PB&H on fresh bread. The piece de resistance will be the whipped cream.

I have not been inside anywhere but my house for 14 days. My landlord came by to give me verification of renting, so I can get a PO Box tomorrow. He is a State Trooper and he banged on the door just like the cops do on TV. It was mighty exciting. I wanted to tell him that the mayor flicks his cigarette butts onto the ground. I feel desperate to stir something up in this sleepy town, but I didn’t want to appear petty.

In anticipation of the end of my incarceration, I perused an online list of goods that MIGHT be at the store. Every third item was a different brand of cigarettes. Who knew?

The sun seemed to be pushing up sooner this morning. Before 9:00, the mountains were pink already. At -25, I wrapped myself up leaving no skin exposed, and headed down to the staging area of the Iron Dog Race . They have a mandatory 14 hour layover, and all twenty, 2 person teams, had pulled into McGrath last night. I knew some of them would be ready to pull out by 9:30.

This was a different world from the Iditarod sled dog race, which we saw twenty years ago. When mushers pulled in, they were disheveled and ragtag. On arrival they needed to make a fire and cook for the dogs. Then they inspected all of the dogs as well as their leads, harnesses, booties, sled etc. They lay down straw for the dogs’ beds. Then they take care of their needs.

The Iron Dog drivers left the restaurant with coffee mugs heading to their neatly lined up machines. The pairs had their matching fitted suits with matching sleek helmets with little ear buds and microphones like FBI agents. You could make out their fine physiques. They had swagger.

This photo shoot would be splendid with the sun rising, smoke and fumes billowing, and the racers pulling the recoil starters with their whole body. When I removed my mitt, my finger froze. My goggles were steamed making me blind. The hazards of an arctic photographer.

Some pickup trucks were idling with spectators inside. Enterprising kids had a Loco Cocoa Wagon, a walled tent stand selling hot chocolate. A couple groups of dogs were tussling. A huge fire was stoked by some men. A couple of officials and a cameraman, all underdressed, we’re scurrying and looking busy.

From a distance bathed in the sepia of orange smoke and fogged goggles, it looked like a Bruegel painting. I could see someone throwing up in a corner, a fist fight, a procession of priests, a couple petting, and even Icarus.

Then the racers gunned their engines, made a sharp jump out of the staging area, and catapulted down to the River. It was a ballet of sorts.

At 4:00 am I noticed the good morning message from Siri. I asked him what the temperature was. In that charming Irish accent he replied 16 below. I searched my Aurora app to find that on a scale of 0-9 it was a four. I suit up and head out. My only enemy was the street light. Not great but after not seeing them in years, it was thrilling.

At 9:30 I headed to the dump with my sled and the garbage. It was minus 20.

The Iron Dog Snow-machine Race is a arriving tonight. I really wanted to see them speeding up the River at 100 MPH. But not enough to stand out in the cold and dark.

I stopped to talk to a man who was overlooking the River while smoking a cigarette. When I told him I was from CA, he said he had a son and a couple grandsons in Sacramento, along with three ex wives, and that’s why he’s living here. He’s the mayor. Name’s Ralph.

I’m up each morning well before the crack of dawn. I check the Aurora forecast on my app. It was active on my second morning here, but the skies were cloudy. My next move is to step out on the deck into the freezing cold air. I look at the sky. I’ve had a couple of clear mornings and viewed The Big Dipper and the tree tops. Unintentionally, I excite all the neighboring dogs from their sleep in their doghouses. They bark and howl and spread their contagion to the next block and on it goes.

At 19 degrees above, I was over dressed for my run. I don’t know how I’ve acclimatized so quickly. After three miles, I sensed something was just behind me on my left. I had a little start when I glanced and saw something black running along side of me. It was a dog. Just yesterday I said I needed a dog. It could’ve been a puppy. It seemed pretty playful. She jumped on me and tried to get my mittens off. She ran around me playing and acting puppyish. I turned around to head for home and she turned around with me and stuck right by my side. At one point I stopped a car and asked the guy if he knew who the dog was. He said maybe she came from the house that was down by the 3 mile mark. I suspected that, but I was hoping the guy would know the owner and contact him. He said don’t worry the dog will turn back.

When I reached my block, the dog decided to visit my neighboring dogs. From inside my house, I heard the contagion of dog barks starting. Good Morning.

I’ve heard this ad on the radio over and over this week for the movie Land. “One woman travels to the wilderness and dares to imagine a new life.” Don’t we just imagine things? Where does daring come into it?

I’ve been in quarantine for 10 days. This is what I’m imagining. In four days I won’t be in quarantine anymore. I can go to the grocery store for the first time. I have never stepped foot in the grocery store, and I don’t know what it looks like or what they have. It will be an exciting day for me. I’m going to the post office, and I’m going to get a post office box. On Wednesday, I am expecting my farm box to arrive. Also I ordered a humidifier which should come on Wednesday. And I get to go to the clinic and have another Covid test.

The only thing I’ve been able to do is go on my runs. Today when I ran I saw absolutely no one except Yeti. I have not looked at another person today. I haven’t seen anybody walking. I haven’t waved to anybody. There’s no loneliness like mine.

I’m thinking of trying to capture a dog. I see the dogs on the street by themselves. They would probably like to spend some time with me. Nobody would think that I stole a dog. I’m not sure anyone knows I’m here.

I’d like to say that my writing is going well, but now I’m mad at one of my characters. She’s turned into a bitch. I not taking it personally. I guess it’s part of the fun.

If some item is getting low in our house, we replenish it before it’s gone. If we see that something is gone, we run out to the store and get it. Months ago my prospective landlord here said that while I was in quarantine, he would get food for me. I tried to plan by sending some staples to the cabin and getting a fruit and vegetable box from the CSA. Right now my supplies are low, but I decided to make due. Of course, when backpacking we can only eat what we can carry. But at home, I might run to the store just to replace a spice. How long can you go without going to the store? How creative can you be? What do you really need? I sure thought I needed a pizza cutter tonight, but I didn’t.

Today, I walked to town. It’s only one mile. It’s much warmer running. I say running but the people traveling past me in cars or trucks or mostly snow machines don’t see me as running. They instead want to know if I’m injured. Or if I know the road goes nowhere. Or if I need a lift. I know they are trying to be kind, but how do they think their solicitousness makes me feel?

My walk was not a run today because I was wearing my boots. And taking a walk. And feeling cold. I took a look around town—two guys standing in front of the store—and there was nothing going on. I’m so glad to be missing nothing.

This walk thing can be a hard concept compared to the snow machine thing.

Here is an interesting fact and concept about the racers.

At night, you cannot get out of your bivy sack to use the restroom. You will risk lowering your core body temperature to a dangerous point. And holding your bladder can actually make you colder. What is the answer? A military invented chemical that converts urine liquid into a gel.

So what do they do with the gel? And wouldn’t that plug things up? It not, I can see many applications for this.

Last Monday in Anchorage, I bought six bagels and ate one for dinner. Yesterday, I ate the last one along with the rest of my veggies. So today I baked bread. Next Tuesday I end my quarantine and on Wednesday I get my next shipment of fruits and veggies from my Seattle based CSA. Until then, I must be resourceful.

I took a photo of the sun getting ready to rise. After it starts coloring the sky, it takes about an hour and a half before it actually rises. This is my picture of the sky over the river at eight. The sun rose at 9:38 this morning.

My time outside has been lovely. Even the temperature. I can’t wait for Terry to come with the skis. That sounded like I just wanted the skis.

But I’ve come here to write and my eyes are so dry they only can take looking at a screen, or pretty much anything for three hours. It’s been a painful and troublesome experience. I been struggling with this for years, but since October, under a doctor’s care it’s . . .

The day was warm hovering just below zero. The clouds made it look colder. I spotted a Gray Jay, Boreal Chickadees, Dark-eyes Juncos, Hoary Redpolls and Ravens swooping and tumbling above the taiga . I ran out the road three miles. It was a joy to experience such silence only cracked by the cries of the Raven. The untrampled snow for my untrammeled spirit. The sun suddenly broke free.