The Juneau Men’s Project Experience

The Beginnings

I left for Juneau on May 26 (2005) at four in the afternoon from a sunny hot Nebraska with the wind blowing across the plains, while I was saying good-bye to my father. He is a strong farming man, slowly losing some hair on top, about 4 inches under six feet, weighing about 160, almost 50 who has experienced more than I know, but on that day I saw something that is becoming a more of a regular experience, but was few and far between before. He was trying to say good-bye and good luck, and I was waiting to go through the checkpoint at the Epply airport in Omaha. People were walking by with carry on bags; the noise in the background was at a high level, and my youngest brother, Adam was there. My dad, Larry, gave me a hug with tears welling in his eyes that he was not going to let fall, because expressing love in that way was not something that he had experienced. My grand father is a good man who fought in WWII (It would change him forever) over on the islands, but he is manic-depressive, and would have depressions that would last weeks in which he would not get out of bed. So, my dad did not see a lot of love from my grand-pa from what I can piece together from the little tid-bits of information. That day, I saw how much my father cares for me, and maybe a little bit of what his dreams in life are. He said that he loved me, and that he was proud of me. With my brother piping in saying, “I am jealous, Alaska.” With a broad smile I told them that I loved them and would be back before they would know as I turned and walked up for carry-on baggage checkpoint. I glanced back and saw them walking off in the opposite direction not realizing the experience that I would have coming 3000 miles away.

The flight would be my second experience in an airport, and first being on a plane. I was in a helicopter once for about ten minutes, flying over the Bad Lands in South Dakota on vacation, and the second, I picked up my now fiancée from the same airport. I waited nervously for them to start boarding the flight, hoping that it would be a smooth ride to Denver and that I would not get sick from the ride. As I and the other passengers boarded and found our small seats with hardly any leg room, I thought that this was a small tin can that was going to fall apart on take off. I was thankfully wrong. I was hanging on to the armrest with white knuckles as the engines revived up, and the brakes were released, and I was pushed back against my seat thinking that this was fun, but I was still nervous. Next thing I knew we were off the ground, as I was watching out the window over the person beside me, hoping that I could see the airport where I just came from and where I would see my family for the last time in the next 11 weeks. It was a smooth ride to Denver, and I had an hour and a half layover, in the airport, as I walked around admiring the hundreds of passengers waiting to go somewhere different than Denver. I was wondering if they were going to make any impact where they were going. From there I went to Seattle, and talked to an African American man (in the airport) in his late twenties raising money to send inner city kids to a camp. He was a Christian man who had no car and would walk 6 miles with a yellow safety jacket at night after his job to the airport to raise money. This man had done some amazing things with God's help, like started an orphanage, a food drive, built homes, and now sending kids to camp. I gave him 10 dollars out of the 80 I had, that I was going to use to live on for the first couple of weeks, waiting for a paycheck if I had a job yet. My checking account was empty along with my savings account. The money had gone to my $750 plane ticket. I told God that if I give this man money that you (God) would have to bless me when I get up there. And he would, by giving me the best job on project.

I made it to Juneau safely after the sleepless eight hours on my Seattle overnight layover. The airport was small. The baggage claim was one room that was about 30 x 30 feet. I had meet two guys from the project, one in Seattle and the other in the Juneau Airport because of my Campus Crusade for Christ baby blue t-shirt that we made at school. We had no idea where to go in this mystery wonder land of never ending rain, forest covered mountains, treacherous ocean, glaciers and the occasional sunny day that comes once a month if you’re a lucky. We found where to go after a taxi, and a two-hour meander. Then began one of the best summers of fellowship, devotion, worship, and a new one for me evangelism on the quest to be an ambassador for Christ.

An ambassador of Christ is a man of integrity or in other words an authentic man. This in tales rejecting passivity, accepting responsibility, leading courageously, and expecting the greater reward. In addition, it involves a daily relation with God through word and prayer, and proclaiming the Gospel of Jesus Christ to the world with words and actions. Last but not least, to seek mentors and to mentor others.

The first night that I was there, the staff made us Alaskan food that consisted of dungenous crab caught fresh from the ocean, moose spaghetti, and other food that I can not recall because the crab was so delicious, especially for me since the ocean is no-where close back home and had not eaten for about 24 hours. After we were done eating, the project director, Jason Coorts stood up and asked us to tell stories about support raising. Each one of the 36 males (that includes me) had to raise $2400 in order to go, and extra could be raise to cover travel expenses and food.

I had exceeded my limit and had enough to cover my plane ticket. I raised my support by sending letters to friends of my family, relatives, and old bible study leaders. In addition to that, I set up a congregational breakfast at my church, St. Peters Lutheran church in Orchard. My parents donated the donuts from Casey’s in Neligh, milk, and the orange juice. That would be there contribution to my support. Pastor Sollberger, who I talked to the day before, told me that I would have to get up and talk to the congregation, and in addition to that, they could ask questions. This made me a little on edge, but my confidence was at an all time high because I was doing what the Lord had put on my heart. Anyway, I talked about the four spiritual laws.

1. God loves you and created you to know him personally. He has a wonderful plan for your life.

2. People are sinful and separated from God, so we cannot know Him personally or experience His love and plan.

3. Jesus Christ is our only provision for our sin. Through him alone we can know God personally and experience God’s love and plan.

4. We must individually receive Jesus Christ as Savior and Lord; then we can know God personally and experience His love and plan.

This is the very first part of the Lutheran doctrine, which made my pastor happy. I explained the laws to my congregation that was listening intently to every word I had to say. I explained that our biggest goal was to grow in our faith and to share these four laws with love to the people of Juneau, and become united as a community of men. Then question time started, and a few odd questions about fishing and the weather were asked, but nothing of importance. Afterwards Carol said that Thrivant, a Lutheran organization would match up to four hundred dollars of what ever I raised. This turned out to be more of a blessing that I would realize. The small wicker basket at the front of the table, before the donuts had $550 in it, plus the $400 match, totaling $950. This made me speechless due to the generosity because the usual amount is $300 or less.

Then four days later on Thursday, the pressure to get to my goal was starting to overwhelm me, and making the nervous twitch of my right eye to show up again, which usually comes around finals week. I was talking to my fiancée on the phone when I got another call, which shown unknown on my caller ID. It was a voice that taught me one of the greatest lessons in my faith. This mans name is Bob Willits.

He said, “Hello.”

Hello.

He continues, “We got your letter today in the mail, and I took it and read it to the kids tonight (He and his wife Vickie lead a bible study in the summer for boys and girls from the surrounding area).

So, what did they think of it?

With a slight hesitation before the sentence he said, “The kids have decided to give you a thousand dollars!” said Bob.

What? A thousand dollars?

At this point I forgot that Lindsey was on the phone even when she called back twice. I was feeling so blessed that I wanted to give back to the kids.

I asked him to repeat that sentence, and said, “I want to come home and be able to talk to the kids that you work with.

Without a moments thought, What about a week from tonight?

That will work for me. I want to bring my fiancée along. Is that OK?

Mr. Willits said, “That’s better yet, I would like to meet her.”

So the nest Thursday, I drove to Wayne State College in Wayne Nebraska to pick up the beautiful blond, after a 2 and a half our drive from Wesleyan in Lincoln. We finished the drive going to my house in Orchard completing the almost four hour trip, with her helping me finish my outline for my talk in the car. I spoke about my life experiences and the truth that Bob had spoken into my life with that lesson back in high school.

Bob told us to sit down on the floor and we could do nothing, however we were supposed to get over to the light switch, which gave us freedom of movement. My friends and I sat thinking, how is that possible? We can not move. After a few more minutes went by, I came up with the idea of Bob picking me up and dragging me over to the switch. I asked my friend Karl beside me if that was a good idea, and he did not if it followed the rules to the game or not. So, I thought about it once more and then asked. Bob, being a big man around an inch over six, weighing more than 200, and lives on a dairy farm got up. He walked over to me put his arms under mine and freed me from the imprisonment of paralysis, by carrying me.

Afterwards, Bob explained the meaning behind it. He symbolized Jesus Christ and what He can and will do for us. He died a painful, unjust death on a cross for our sins that He took on that we might be freed, but the catch is that we must ask for this free gift. Then after this grace that he gives us, we have the ability to help free others, or to watch them sit there waiting in and for their future imprisonment in hell. After my talk, I had a four-hour drive back to school starting out at 11pm (That was a late night).

I stayed in an apartment style dorm room at the University of Alaska Southeast (UAS) with five other men. Aaron Witzke (also known as birdman to some) who is 8 inches taller than I, and skinner than I am, and has been the humor in the room for project. He always has a funny pose, face, or joke that catches me and the guys that I live with off guard. He has a broad range of knowledge about the Bible because of his Christian family and also due to the roll that he plays in his fraternity. He left early due to RA training and missed the last camping trip. His humor I miss everyday, since I have left, and I wonder how he is doing in Missouri.

Steven Bauer (Steve-O the rock star) is a native Nebraska like myself. He attends Wayne State College where he sees my fiancée more than I do. He is quiet most of the time, due to the fact that he does not step up and take risks. He has great potential to be a leader in the Christian community, but he needs to be learned a little more and have discipline not to always rely on his guitar playing skills that never cease entertaining my ears during the hours spent in the room. He would be a bearded man until that last week of project.

Nick Brennen shares a room with me. He had to talk to Craig Johring to come on project, and said, “I need male relationships, and that is why I need to go.” While Nick is sleeping, he will grunt a little, roll over, and then let out a huge fart about every hour. He likes to sleep in a warm room around 75 degrees and that get on my nerves due to the fact that I wake up in sweats at night and can not go back to sleep. If I try to open the window he gets cold and closes it about as soon as I opened it. But that is all right. He was in Broken Bow, and now home is Montana. He has a ten-inch scar on his left arm due a wrestling match back in middle school. He has grown a lot in his faith and made some amazing relationships that will serve as an example for the rest of his life. (We also lived with Phillip Robinson for a while, but I did not get a chance to get to know him).

These three guys would be under my care for the last fives weeks of project after the staff left, but would be under the care of Chris Hruska for the first five weeks. This would include mentoring them with problems and the weekly topic, continually encouraging them, and praying for them. Chris grew up in North Omaha in an African American section of town. He grew up very poor, had no father for a while, lost one to cancer after about two years of knowing him, and now has a third one. He always talks like he is black. Lots of slang, loudness, and the blame never lands on him. He is very good at basketball, and that is an understatement. Chris is a very good mentor, and I respect him for that. He also attends Wayne State, was the president of Campus Crusade for Christ, and Wayne State was the feature article in World Wide Challenge.

Echo Cove, The Shrine, and Not a Job

The 35 students and I, along with the 11 staff members went out to Echo Cove Bible Ranch Camp. This was done by packing our clothes and sleeping bags on our backs from Echo Cove (which is a 20 mile drive from UAS) up along the 2.6 of beach that can only be walked during low tide that happens twice a day. Lucky for me and about four other guys our gear was late and was carried in on a wooden cart pulled by a tractor.

The beach was the first Alaskan thing I experienced. The tidal zone had grass that was cover with water at high tide. I found an eel of about three inches that was smooth skin and was green. I tried to hang onto it, but the skin was to slick and wet, but it was not slimy. Then next thing I found on the beach that consist mainly of rocks that varied from 3 inches to three feet wide, was a dungenous crab shell brought in by the tide. It was small and had a reddish color to it. After examination, I noticed that it was hollow and the top of the main shell was loose. Later on, I found out that the crabs molt their shell in order to grow (like insects and snakes). A little farther on the hike, I found a point that was rock. The salt water was still draining off, but in the tidal pools was all short of life that I had not seen before. My boots that I bought the day before and that were rubbing on my heels were crunching mussels and barnacles in every step that I took. The mussels covered the rocks, and the barnacles grew on the shells of the mussels. In the pools were small fish that would lay on the bottom motionless so that they could not be seen by birds that would eat them. It took me a while before I could spot them easily. Then I realized that the group was nowhere in site, and I was going to a mystery place that I have never been before or even seen a photo of so I better get going.

We arrived around noon. The sun was shinning, which I did not realize the rarity of a cloudless day. We each picked a cabin to stay in for the night. Then we huddled up around the camp director because we were out there to do work. The first job that was brought to our attention was planting a garden, which I volunteered for. I helped teach another guy from the project on how to plant seeds in this garden that was not soil but beach sand that consisted of shells, rocks, and sand, which was all over my feet since I took my boots off due to my sore heels. While planting the seeds for carrots, beets, cucumbers, pumpkins, squash, and about any other vegetable you could think of, we were finding carrots from the year before which I thought were thrown out due to the lack of size since they were no bigger than a pencil. I later learned all of the carrots looked like that, due to the lack of the sun and the short growing season. Hopefully the garden turned out for them. I did not get a chance to go back and see if the seeds produce a sprout that was able to stay alive, and provided food for the campers that were to come.

That night, we were assigned to an action group, which was made up of the guys I lived with excluding Phillip. This time was dedicated to telling our action group about out life story with both the highs and the lows, and how we came and went about the decision to come on project. This went on in front of a fire that consisted of driftwood, watching the sun slowly going down behind the mountains in an arch due to the tilt of the earth. The sun was turning the puff ball clouds pink on the front side, yet they stayed black on the backside, with blue sky above, and the bright orange light from the sun reflecting off of the glass like ocean that was 50 feet in front of us, that lasted for hours. Back home, a good sunset last for fifteen minutes (a few pictures were taken).

The next day was Sunday, and we got to play Frisbee out on the natural grass field, which is the only one in Juneau. Sports are played on gravel, or at the sports complex were there is field turf. The grass was a luxury that we would soon miss. After Frisbee, we walked along the field pass the horse stables, to the chapel, which looked like a two-story log cabin. It was entirely made out of wood, and the Project director Jason Coorts stood up and introduce what this project was about. He told us our mission statement: To be an ambassador of Christ for a lifetime. If we learned how to do this, the project would be a success. That is the only goal staff had set for us, and they were going to learn us on how to do this. We made it back to campus late that night soon to start our search for a job, and to begin the weekly schedule, that consists of night of reflection, evangelism night, weekly meeting, action group night, social night, manhood development, and church followed by Sunday afternoon meetings.

During that first week I thought I had found a job that would fit my major (Biopsychology) and that would pay well enough. It would have been down at the Auke Bay laboratory grinding up fish in order to study rings of a parasite the size of pencil eraser that tells researchers how warm of ocean water the salmon was in. This job would have been a fifteen minute walk down the bike path from campus, 35 hours a week, and starting at 15 and hour and up to 19. The Lady I accidentally found that day, made it sound that I had a pretty good chance of getting it, but little did I know that she would lose my number for my room twice due to unorganization, and also that they would be waiting on people returning from last year, and that they would put me off for a week and a half. I never did find out if I could have got the job or not.

The interior of this lab was an amazing sight though. When I walked through the door to my left was ten feet of aquariums, followed by a left turn with ten more feet. In the tanks was every type of sea life in Alaska. There were green and red sea anemones, shrimp, clams, coral, fish, and much more that has escaped my mind. A couple feet away from the aquariums was a wall covered with specimens. There were a dozen different types of fish, but main sight was the crab at the top of the wall. They had species at different ages of both dungenous and king crab. The king crab specimen that was aged around 18 years was five feet wide. The main shell of this crab was about ten inches, but the three legs and a claw on each side of the shell were massive with the girth being about two and a half inches and if the legs were pull straight out would have been two and a half feet long. This was a prize that I would not see anywhere else, for the rest of my time in Alaska. The display is an unforgettable sight of marvelous beauty that comes from 400 feet of depth from the cold ocean.

The McGinnis Adventure

The next week I was still jobless, and I had free time. Nick, Steve-O and I decided to climb a mountain. Mount McGinnis is the one we decided on, and it soon became an unforgettable experience.

Hey guys, this is the view of all views, as we looked of the side of the mountain at the huge Mendenhall glacier that is two miles wide and goes up the mountain side for about ten.

“The glacier is almost unreal,” said Nick.

“It looks like it is five feet away,” Said Steve-O, “I seems like you should be able to touch it yet it is a quarter mile a away.”

Look at the ice. That is wicked.

“The other side seems like a five minutes across, but that helicopter is only a small spec in the sky on the other side,” said Nick.

Well, shall we continue?

We continued up the trail through some switchbacks, and did the exact same thing for the next three look out points. At about 3000 feet up we hit our first patch of snow, and for Nebraskans this is a sight because snow disappears at the very latest in March and most of the time in February, maybe a snow storm in early April.

Hey Steve-O, watch this, as I formed a snowball, and threw it at Nick’s back.

“Hey! What was that for? I thought about throwing one at you, but I am not that mean,” said Nick.

Somebody’s got to throw one. It is snow in the summer time.

We continued on up with the snow soon covering our path almost completely, which made the trail difficult to follow, because the snow pushed down trees that has the orange ribbon marking it. Soon we found a broken shovel handle, and I started using it to find soft spots in the snow due to tree wells and melting snow beneath out feet.

Don’t step by that log. You will sink. There is a hole here by this rock.

Nick was following behind me as we were going up about a 40 degree incline at this moment on a half melted snow with sides of rock sticking up.

“Holy crap!” said Nick since he was waist deep in snow. “I almost broke my leg on this rock.”

You need to look at every step before you take it. One wrong move and I will be carrying you out on my shoulders, and I do not want to do that.

Soon we were in the alpine. The snow was very deep and only rock points were sticking out in a couple of random places.

Hey Steve-O, do you want to lead?

With a blank stare he says nothing.

What about you Nick?

“I am fine were I am at,” He replied.

This snow is killing me. My legs hurt.

Steve-O with a reply of “So do mine. How much farther?”

That next peak looks like the top. Hopefully it is not another false point. We have already pasted four.

We continued on a little more.

Crap, another false one. How many more?

“I am getting tired and want to rest here on these rocks,” said Nick.

Are you going to continue to the top?

“No, I am going to rest and eat my sandwiches. My legs are to tired,” said Nick.

Ok, stay here. We will be back for you in about an hour. You sure you don’t want to come? It would be a shame not to make it to the top!

Nick responded, “I need to rest, so I can make it back down.”

To the top Steve-O!

“To the top,” Steve-O shouted back.

What’s up with Nick, as we passed out of his listening distance.

“I don’t know,” said Steve-O, “He is going to wish that he continued. Oh well.”

By this time, I was still blazing the trail and my legs felt like tree trunks that I was trying to drag up the hill.

We’ll go 50 steps then take a rest

“That’s fine with me. TO THE TOP!” Shouted Steve-0.

TO THE TOP.

By this time Nick was out of site and the two of us were within 500 feet of the top, and we knew this was the top for sure. The sun was shining down; reflecting off the snow, slowly sun burning my chest as we continued. Still shouting the occasional TO THE TOP for motivation to keep going.

Another hundred feet Steve-O, and we will have the views of all views. We reached the top, which was snow less, and the view from 4228 feet was amazing.

Look at that. That is down town Juneau.

“It is so small, I can not believe this,” Steve-O said with excitement.

Look at that. That little white speck is campus, and there is the glacier that still looks unreal. There is the Mendehall Lake and river (The Lake was cut by the movement of the glacier and the river drains the snow runoff that flows into the lake by a 70 foot water fall and leaves on the opposite side of the glacier).

Steve-O carries on, “There is the glacier, with the waterfall, then the lake, then downtown Juneau, then the campus, and then more mountains. Look at the ice fields behind us. Those are amazing. Look at that.”

This has to be the best view of my life. And those homes down there, those are the people we are going to impact.

We sat on top finding some quartz rocks as souvenirs, as we rested our legs, drinking out of Steve-O nalgene (since my pack was five hundred feet down the mountain to make the trip lighter) as we shared his pop tarts, and wished Nick would have been with us. We watched in awe as 5 bald eagles soar on the updrafts on the backside of the mountain. After about 20 minutes of rest and a roll of film, we decided to head back down and find Nick. We climbed down about 150 feet in elevation and then the snow started again. We soon we running down the snow as fast as we could back to my pack and my shirts, thankfully since the sun had made me red. After I picked up my pack, and put my shirt on, we skied down the snow with only our hiking boots, filling our pant legs with wet cold snow that was running down our legs and slowly filling our water proof shoes, with Nick now where in sight.

Do you see him?

“No,” Said Steve-O “He should be at one of those rock points.”

Well, lets go to the next one. I think he is a little farther down (which he was not at either). Where is he? Didn’t we tell him to stay put?

“Ya, I thought so,” Said Steve-O, “But since we left him behind, maybe he got mad and headed back.”

I don’t know. I don’t know what he is like. He could be suicidal and I wouldn’t have a clue. I have only known him for a week, and we have not talked much yet. We need to watch for his tracks and see if we can tell where he went.

“Ok, that sounds like a good idea, but I think we already pasted the point that we left him at, and hopefully he is not hurt,” replied Steve-O.

Let’s keep going and try and find some tracks in the melting snow.

Soon we were almost to the tree line looking for tracks that we could not find and had completely past the spot that he stayed behind at.

Nick! NICK! No response. Just the slight breeze blowing by.

Crap! I am too tired to try and go back up after him. Plus who knows. He could be half way down the mountain, and we would have no clue.

With reluctance Steve-O said, “Should we go and risk leaving him?”

The tree line would make a good waiting point to meet him at.

So we continued down to the tree line yelling and whistling at the top of our lungs for Nick, with no response from anywhere. As we debated on what to do, two hikers, a guy and a girl who looked like a couple with snow protectors that went over their boots and up past their calves, asked if we were yelling for a dog. We filled them in on what was going on, and they had not seen him or fresh tracks going back down. They were kind enough and said that if they spotted him that they would tell him that we were in front of us. We followed them back up the mountain for about 100 feet, and I fell over in the snow because of my exhausted legs.

I cannot go back up looking for him. They can find him for us.

“I agree,” said Steve-O as we waited eagerly to find him. We heard some talking above us, and Nick appears at the top of the false peak running down after us for his life.

“I can’t believe that you left me. I saw you guys coming down, and I tried to catch up with you,” said Nick breathlessly.

I though we told you to stay where you were.

“Ya, I know. I got bored waiting for you guys and wanted to explore a little bit,” said Nick. “I heard you guys yelling for me. Didn’t you here me?”

No, we had no idea were you went. You disappeared. We tried to find you tracks, but the sun had melted most of them, and we could not tell if the were going up or down. Why didn’t you stay put?

“Let’s just drop it. I am back, and wanting to get to the bottom,” said Nick as he jetted out front.

Steve-O, I am so mad. Why did he not stay in that spot?

“I don’t know,” He replied

He probably got bored and wanted to do something, but that put us in a really bad position of making the choice of going or staying.

“Ya, that sucked,” remarked Steve-O.

We made it slowly down the side of the mountain on tired legs and having to stop and rest a couple of times. Well, I had to stop and rest, due to the fact of every step going up I would sink back 8 inches in the snow while the other guys used my tracks as steps. At this point in time, Nick was nowhere in sight on the trail. He was out front somewhere. Steve-O and I eventually made it to the trailhead about 30 minutes after Nick did, and Chris drove us back to campus, and I passed out on the couch.

Poop and The Job

That Thursday (week two) Chris fed us food that consisted of pizza, hot brownies from the oven, and ice cream, followed by a road trip out to the shrine of St. Teresa. It is an old stone catholic church about 23 miles down the road from Juneau, out on an island which you could only get to at low tide, but a rock path has been put in. Unfortunately we did not get to go inside due to the remodeling, but we spent time on the beach.

“Don’t go too far,” said Chris “we have stuff to talk about” as the other four of us went exploring down on the wet, mussel covered rocks.

In the tidal pools (low tide) were many kinds of ocean life. The first I found happened to be sea anemones. One was a bright green color, and when I poked it with a stick, all of its hundred of tentacles curled in after the stick as it was attacking it. I called the guys over and they watched the same thing with the reddish brown one, two inches from the green one. Soon starfish were spotted in the water.

“Look at the red one,” said Nick.

You going to get one?

“They’re so deep, I don’t know if I can reach it,” said Nick.

Here give me your hand and now try, as Nick leaned out over the water on the rock bank, slowly getting his arm wet.

“It’s to deep,” he replied.

Here, hold me out, and I will get it.

“I don’t want to do that,” Nick said.

Aaron commented in a child like voice, “You can hold me (I laughed).”

Soon one was grabbed and pulled off the rocks and was held up for pictures, but due to its own weight the starfish started tearing in half. We tried for more but soon found out the task was more difficult than we thought because we were only coming up with one arm at a time. At this point Chris finally got us talked into having our bible study after we talked him out of jumping onto a rock since it was 6 feet out into the frigid ocean covered with mussels, which would have cut him up if he slipped on the wet rock.

Our bible study started out like this.

“These bible studies you guys will probably not remember after you get back home. You probably forget what I said in a week, but you will never forget the places you’re been and the people you have influenced up here in Juneau,” said Chris. As he started, “What is prayer?”

“A two way conversation between you and God,” answered Steve-O.

“That’s right,” said Chris.

Then out of the top of my eyesight I see a bird fly over which pooped right over top of us and shitbombed Nick’s bible.

“Holy crap! (no pun intended)” said Nick. “That bird just pooped on my bible.”

“What?” said Chris since he did not see the shitbombing happen.

“That crow just pooped in Matthew. I can’t believe this,” said Nick angrily.

Chris ended up being right about remembering the bible studies. I remember every place I have been to and have only remembered two pieces of our bible studies.

The day before after our Wednesday night meeting called night life in which we sing songs, have a speaker, along with a story from Joe, a skit and a personal testimony, followed by more singing. Anyway, after that I got my lead for a job. Jason Coorts came up to me and asked if I had a job yet. Which was a no and he gave me the number for Matt Wolcott, and as I was walking away, he stops me.

“Here, use my phone and call him,” said Jason.

So I did. Matt said that this guy was building a house by Amalga harbor and needed some help (at that point I had no idea where Amalaga harbor was at). Matt said that it was going to be manual labor, which was fine with me because I needed a job. On Thursday afternoon before our bible study that was going to take place at the shrine I got a phone call (I had left a message earlier that day).

“Hello.”

Hi.

“Is there a Jason there?” the voice asked.

This is him

“My name is Lynn, and I talked to Matt about getting you a job.”

Ok.

“It’s going to be hard manual labor.”

That’s fine. I grew up on a farm in Nebraska.

“Oh, well you are ready then, do you have a vehicle?” asked Lynn.

No, I flew up here.

“Ok, well I will pay you $15 an hour and if you work hard $20. I will meet you down at the campus Library tomorrow at 8:00. Is that fine with you?” said Lynn.

I will see you there.

“See ya in the morning,” as he hung up the phone (That is the exact conversation).

The next day I walked 20 minutes to the library in my only pair of work clothes that consisted of a pair of kakis, and old black sleeveless basketball shirt from the eight grade with MOSEL on the back; and a brown, long-sleeved, plaid, cotton button up shirt; my mossy oak camouflage rain coat; and my hiking boots on my feet. He picks me up in an extended cab pickup with the topper on the bed. We make it out to Amalga harbor, through the parking lot, and up a hill on a private rock driveway through the forest, to The Knob. During the ride up, Lynn introduced me to this kid named Tyler. He was going to be helping me. We got out of his truck, and he walks us over to a ravine and says he wants his letch field here (I had a pretty good idea of what that was, a part of the sewer).

“I need a 12 x 12 hole dug down to bed rock, and start in the back corner because the excavator can not reach it,” as Lynn handed us shovels, an ax, and a grubbing hoe.

Ok. I though this was going to be an easy task because I am from Nebraska where holes are dug in the sand (I had to bury a lot of dead pigs in my day). I would soon learn that this was going to be a three-day task. We tried in our own stupidity chopping it up into pieces at first. That did not work because it was impossible to shovel. Tyler and I had to cut squares into the ground like an archeologist with an ax or the grubbing hoe. The first part was an 8-inch layer of moss. We figured out that it could be taken up like sod. Then the next layer in the forest floor was a decomposing organic layer, entangled with tree roots anywhere from 10 inches in diameter to the size of grass roots. After that layer which was anywhere from 1 to 3 feet deep was actual dirt. Well, I wish it was dirt. It was mud that was trapped in holes in the bedrock, and had enough organic materials (tannins from the trees) that it would die my hands brown along with my clothes. Tyler and I spent all of Friday, Saturday, and a part of Monday digging at this hole. Luckily we only had to dig a 12 x 6 ft hole since Lynn rented a bigger excavator. This hole ended up being 5 ft deep in the back right corner, four in the back left (we never found bed rock there) and three at the 6 ft mark. To finish up that week (week three of project), I would spend my time bucketing sand, making cement forms and bucketing more sand (Tyler and I moved around 5 yards of sand by hand) as I moved up and down the jungle gym of rock and forms.

The best part of my day though was lunch. Lynn would have sandwiches from the De Breeze Inn. These five dollar, inch and a half thick, gloriously built sandwiches would be devoured by me during story time from Lynn and the other carpenters who were now giving me rides to and from work with me meeting them at De Harts (The closest gas station to campus, on the main road, and only a ten minute walk).

Throughout the summer I got told numerous stories on lunch break. These are the good ones. The carpenter named Rod used to cut lumber for a living (lumber jack). During one of his years out there he experienced some tragedies and told us about them.

“One of the guys out there was cutting a tree when a six inch dead branch broke off above him. It hit him on top of the head breaking his neck and killing him instantly.”

“Another lumber jack who had ten years under his belt was wedging a tree because it was a leaner (the wedges are drove into the trunk to get the tree to lean the right direction before its cut). While he went to hit one during the wave of the tree (driving the wedges puts the trees into a wave like motion and then the wedges are hit during a certain point to drive easier), the leaner broke in two and fell on top of him. It killed him.” “A few months later, another guy who also had ten years under his belt, and I was working with was wedging a deadhead (top of the tree is dead, these are also known as widow makers). He looked down to hit the wedge the same time the tree broke. It fell upright and drove him into the ground. Some of the guys went over to look at it, and said there was nothing left since the hole was down to bedrock, but I didn’t look.”

“One almost got me (Rod is still talking). I was cutting the top off of one that was cantilevered over a rock. Our boss trained us to look at everything before we make a cut. Look up, look down, and look for branches. So, I went to cut this one, and the top fell and the other half bounced up due to the pressure. The top fell onto a curve log about three feet long and flung it up. The log hit my elbow, sending my 35-pound chainsaw 20 feet backwards. My elbow went numb, and my boss was yelling at me to keep moving while I was crying and rubbing my elbow.”

He concluded his stories by telling the saying of the lumberjacks. “Something out there will eventually get you.”

The last I saw of Rod, he was taking an 8 day gold panning trip somewhere up in the mountains. I wonder how he did?

Sharing

Chris and I went sharing together. We went out to the Lemon Creek area of Juneau to an apartment complex. The second door we knocked on was a group of people having fellowship time together. They invited us in and ask if we were part of the group that was here last week. We said yes, after they told a little bit more information, and then the five of them circle around Chris and I and prayed for us.

We continued on only to find no answers and the people turning their lights out. We decided that God was setting us up good. We ended up at apartment number 17. It was Chris’s turn to do the survey and to share the spiritual laws if the conversation went that way. A boy named Steven barley opened the door, and Chris asked if his parents were home. His mom was out working at her second job and his dad had no been around in years to help take care of him and his five other siblings as he slowly came out of his noisy house. Chris went through they quest survey that contains questions about the neighborhood, church going, and if they want to know more about God. Steven said, “Yes.” Chris and I looked at each other with excitement after 15 apartments of no answers. Chris proceeded to share the gospel with him, with me adding more to better explain the gospel.

Steven replied, “One of my friends just a couple of months ago took me through this book, and I accepted Christ into my heart.”

Chris asked, “Do you have a bible that you can use, because if not you can have mine?”

Steven replied, “My friend also got me a bible, and I need to go,” as Steven went back inside.

We would soon make it to Rod’s house. Chris tried to take the survey with Rod, and he said that his religious beliefs are private, and that he would not discuss them as he shut the door. At this point, Chris realized that he forgot his bible back at Steven’s as we turned to go back.

The next time I went sharing was in down town Juneau. Daniel Lynn (Dan) went with me. We talked to one guy beside the glory hole (a place for people to stay and get hot meals (homeless shelter)) for an hour. He was an older man, with three gold nuggets around his neck and had served in Korea. He was a believer of the Catholic faith and told a story about getting mugged on top of a mountain and then pushed off the side and left for dead after a 500-foot fall. He landed in an oil tank compressing both his arms to about half the length due to his bones shattering. The scars on his arms still looked fairly new since two titanium rods were put in and his shattered bones were scrapped out.

Dan and I continued on to a bus stop. Dan knew one native named Phillip. He had been drinking and Dan had shared with him one time before. Dan sat down with him, along side another handful of drunks. I was a little worried since the guy beside him was carrying an 18-inch knife and was plastered. I, after watching a little bit since Dan is a smaller guy, went a talked to a guy at a food stand. He told me many stories of the legend of kubrakabras, which are magical creature that can shift shape and lure people into the forest by looking like a relative or friend and then they are never seen again. The young man went on to tell that the only way to know is that they have red eyes and dislike smoke. “If you light a cigarette they will go away.”

While he was telling me this, an everyday occurrence was going on behind me (The native said it happens that often). The rehabilitation van pulled up and two women in there 30’s with latex gloves and scrubs on got out. They had one male already in the van and he looked like he was about ready to pass out. The two got a man off the bench that was ten feet in front of me and put him into the van and slowly talked one more into going with them. They left, and then a police officer showed up and slowly walked around checking to see if they were coherent or nor. One heavier set native woman in purple sweatpants and a sweat hood was out of it. He tried talking to her, and she said nothing. It looked like her eyes were rolled up, showing only the whites. Then pretty soon another officer showed up and the two of them tried to carry this woman to the squad car, but she resisted by dragging her feet and trying to curl up into the fetal position. Soon, one of the tenants three floors up in the apartment behind the scene was yelling at the police.

“You f----- bastards. You did this to her,” and was followed by more obscenities. Finally, after about 20 minutes, a fourth and fifth officer showed up with paramedics. They took a blood sample while she was still curled up on the cement. After the paramedics put the sample into a machine to test for drugs, the four police officers went to pick this lady up. “That what I thought. It is going to take four of you to move her. One of you should be able to do that by yourselves. Leave her alone you pigs,” the women shouted. The police seemed like they didn’t know that she was there, and barely got her up and put her in the car, and drove off.

Dan was still talking to Phillip at the bus stop as I walked over to see if he was getting to a stopping point because we had to be at the docks in ten minutes. He was still listening and telling Phillip about the gospel and stories from the bible. Soon Phillip got up and came out to me. He asked in a drunken manner, “Are you friend with Dan?”

Yes I am.

He put his arm around and whispered in my ear, “You have great patience. You good friend to Dan.” He turned around, staggered back in the bus stop, and started talking to Dan again. Twenties minutes later their conversation ended and my back hurt due to the stress fracture I got in high school. Dan and I walked to the docks, where we would have ice cream and tell stories from the night.

The next week I would see Coorts share the gospel to two coast guard men, one who believed and the other had no clue. He had never heard the gospel in that way before.

Burner’s Bay

Soon it came time to go on the mid summer project camping trip. Since I was on outfitting, I had to help with planning, meal preparation, and getting gear in and out. Me and five others guys would be doing this. We left the day before, drove up the coast to Echo Cove and filled the skiff with as much equipment as possible. I volunteered to go first, with Justin Nail driving the skiff. We landed at the beach when the tide was going out. We unloaded the boat as fast as we could and then realized that the outgoing water had stranded the skiff on the beach. Nail and I would work as fast as we could trying to work the skiff back into the water, but the tide was going out as fast as we were moving it. Soon we made enough progress that the boat was floating again and Justin left, going to get the other guys and the rest of the gear. I started carrying the gear up the 1/4 mile beach. I started with my backpack and the two propane tanks. I made it about half way and had to set the tanks down because my arms hurt. I carried my backpack up, and went back for more. I soon had 1/2 of the boatload up on the grass by the time the skiff returned.

It was loaded with four guys averaging 200, and then more gear was stuffed in. All together the boat had around 2000 pounds in it, and that is why it took them almost an hour to get out to Burners’ Bay, unlike the 20 minutes it took Justin and I.

Soon, I had a fire pit built with stones set in the ring to allow pans to set on for cooking, and cook we did. The first day that we were out there, we ate polish dogs wrapped in corn tortillas. Then on Saturday the rest of the project and staff came out. During the day, crab pots were pulled, and the crabs cleaned for the meal. Once everybody was out there, it was time to fill up on crab. I wanted some help cooking the meal, but the other guys said, “You are responsible to cook the meals that you planned,” said Brain Dye. So, I found myself trying to cook for 50 hungry men by my self. This was fairly easy, but chaotic at the same time, trying to get the plates found in the hundred of pounds of gear we brought out, ration the crab, and make brownies at the same time. I got it done, and was the last person to eat.

We all cooked the next day breakfast, after Justin talked to the other guys. The rest of the day we were free to do what ever we wanted. Some went fishing; some went hiking, some swimming, and some laid around (that is me personally). Soon, it was time to cook again. It was spaghetti night. The outfitting team had 300 serving of spaghetti, and sauce. The pasta was cooked in a big deep fat frying pot, and was stirred with the shovel handle (looked like a witch making potions). The guys went through for one helping, them two, and some of them made three, but the main point is that everyone got full, and the team only spent $30 on the meal.

Afterward, Ron (the guy who brought out his $250k yacht, and took guys out on it) told how he because a Christian and why he was out here giving everybody a once in a life time chance, jumping off his yacht into the cold ocean naked. Coorts talked after Ron. He announced project director and associate director, but the main action came that night.

The beach-wrestling matches. These occurred at dusk, on the sandiest part that we could find, but it still had eight-inch rocks all over in it. I wrestled Jim Ageton, because he is from Doane College. Wesleyan (where I go) and Doane have about the biggest rivalry in the state. Football fields have been set on fire, tracks painted, and the freshmen go on active guard a week before we play. Jim is a bigger guy than me. He is about the same height, same muscular build, but has 50 pound on me due to his belly. I pinned him after a quick match, due to the fact that he got tired. Point for Wesleyan. Sorry Jim, Doane sucks.

The main event would soon get under way. Justin Talley, who was giving the title of associate project director, had beaten everybody that he had wrestled without trying. So he made a challenge.

“I challenge any two staff to wrestle me at the same time. If I pin one of them, they each owe me a 6 pack of Weinhard’s (the official beer of the root on the project, since alcohol is prohibited). If you pin me, I get each one of you a six pack,” said Tally. Justin Nail would step up, and then a four-minute debate of whom else was going to do it. Craig Johring, a man is his forties said, “I’ll do it.” Justin and Craig planned on how to get Tally down and Tally also prepared. Soon, it would become a stalemate, in which the two were on top of Tally but could not get him on his back. A little leeway would be made on both sides but neither was winning. Tally was a reputable wrestler in high school, and I think he never lost. Craig wrestled at Junior College. Soon Craig would catch an elbow from Justin below the eye, and the match had to end. A stream of blood was running down Craig’s face as a couple of guys huddle around him to take care of the split in the skin. The med kit was brought over and no super glue was in that one. I ran back across the rocky beach in the dark to get the good one. Craig’s face was glued up as a black eye was setting in.

The rest of the night we would be spent by making s’mores around the bon fire. The following morning we would leave this magical place of sunsets, waterfalls, and mountains remembering the two best things that happened on project the first went like this and happened the first night everybody was out there.

“GET IT OFF OF ME.”

“GET IT OFF OF ME.”

Marshall and I sat up in our tent to look at and see the tent beside us, with someone thrashing and yelling at the top his or her lungs.

“GET ME OUT OF HERE.”

Marshall picked up the short barreled, silver shotgun, clicked off the safety, and pointed at the direction of the trashing tent, while I picked up the extra box of slugs as we waited to see what moved by the front of the tent.

I whispered, Where is it?

“I don’t know’” said Marshall.

“IT’S ON TOP OF ME,” screamed Ben.

A few more second go by, and I whisper, Are we going to get out?

“We’ll shot it from the tent!” whispered Marshall.

At this point in thime I am imagineing a big old brown brown showing its teeth with drowl running down its mouth, biting and clawing at the tent to get at the prize inside, with Marshall shooting slugs through the tent making holes to kill the bear.

Ben Carlucci wiggled out from the thrashed tent and sighed in relief. Craig Johring came running over in extra toughs and in his whitey tighties, trying to figure out what was going on.

“Are you ok,” Craig asked.

“I am fine,” said Ben with his head out of his tent.

Marshall and I were still sitting in our tent trying not to have a heart attack, still waiting for a brown bear to show its teeth.

“Do you want help putting that back up?” Craig asked.

“No, I got it,” replied Ben.

In the morning we found the tent back up like nothing had happened and that Ben has night terrors, which none of the outfitting team knew. A few of the guys did not wake up to here the commotion, and most of them were too scared to get out of their tents.

The second morning, some of us were up and cooking breakfast when Jason Coorts came up with a plan.

Whoa bear, (it is the Alaskan way of letting a bear know that you are there)

Whoa bear, (I am in the middle of the tents.)

WHOA BEAR,”

RUN, RUN FOR YOU LIVES, RUN! As Justin Nail and I run through camp making a lot of noise.

“Marshall, get the gun,” screamed Coorts.

At this moment of panic and pooping sleeping bags, Chuck the Marine was unzipping Joe’s sleeping bag yanking him out of the tent, and telling him that we have to go, as he started running for the ocean. At the same time, Chance bolts out of his tent in his boxers, checked both directions in an athletical stance, and disappear behind tents.

“BANG”

“BANG” as Marshall fired two into the air.

“SHOOT HIM AGAIN,” screamed Coorts.

“BANG”

Trying not to fall to the ground laughing, Justin Nail walked into camp. “It’s breakfast time. Get up,” which is followed by murmurs and swear words coming from random tents.