Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2 THREE WEEKS EARLIER MONDAY, MARCH 9, 1964 4:30 IN THE AFTERNOON 120 MILES FROM VALDEZ, DEEP IN THE WILDERNESS "I don't think we'll be having fish for dinner tonight," Mom said, flicking a small icicle from

her eyelash. Jackson peered down into the hole he and Dad had chopped through the thick river ice. They'd been fishing for hours. So far, not even a nibble. Needles of cold jabbed at Jackson's toes. It wasn't too cold today—around 5 degrees. But he still should have worn a third pair of socks. Jackson stared down into the dark water. "I know you're down there, fish!"

Dad chuckled, and Mom let out one of her famous barking laughs. She sounded like a seal. "A very jolly seal," Dad always said. It was that laugh that had caught Dad's attention all those years ago, when he and Mom were in college in Ohio. Back then, Dad was already dreaming of living on his own in the Alaskan bush. That's what people called the wild parts of Alaska that were far from roads and towns. It turned out Mom was ready for an adventure, too. They came up here after college, found a patch of land near the river, and started building the cabin. What a disaster! Eying his parents, Jackson thought of all the horror stories they'd told him about their first year in the bush. They ran out of food halfway through the winter. They got lost in the forest and nearly froze. Mom ate a poisonous mushroom and puked her guts out for a week. Finally, it was summer—and they were practically eaten alive by swarms of bloodthirsty Alaska mosquitoes.

"We were idiots," Mom liked to say. "We had no idea what we were doing." "We almost died ten times," Dad would add, shaking his head. But each mistake taught Mom and Dad something new. And when they weren't hungry or freezing or being devoured by bloodsuckers, they were falling more and more in love with each other—and with the wild land around them. Jackson was born two years later. He'd spent his whole life in the tiny cabin Mom and Dad had built about two miles from the river. Lucky me, Jackson thought, smiling to himself and giving his freezing toes a wriggle. "So, what should we have for dinner?" Dad asked. "How about moose stew," Mom said. "Or we could have moose burgers or moose meatloaf… or moose meatballs." "Or moose chili?" Jackson asked. "Oh, that would hit the spot," Dad said.

"Moose chili it is," Mom said. By this time of year, they were all sick to death of moose meat. It was their main food in the winter. Most other animals they could eat were hiding underground or hibernating during the coldest months. One male moose had six hundred pounds of meat. They'd hunt one down, butcher the animal, cut up the meat, and preserve it in jars they sealed shut in boiling water. By now Jackson had eaten so much moose meat he was surprised he didn't have antlers. But he never complained. Three years ago, they couldn't find a moose before winter blasted in. They barely had any meat all winter. Luckily, they had their winter supply of rice and beans and noodles. But they had to be careful. Because if they ran out, they couldn't just drive to a store. They had no car. There were no roads in the bush. The nearest store was in a town about twenty miles away.

No, living here wasn't always easy. Their cabin had no electricity or running water; their toilet was a hole in the ground. The forest was filled with grizzlies and wolves. A person had to be tough to live in the bush—Alaska tough. Jackson looked around now, shivering a little. His toes were numb. But he smiled to himself as he looked up the river. It curled like an icy blue ribbon through the thick green forest. He'd always felt lucky to live in such an amazing place. Mom led the way on the two-mile journey back home. The sun was starting to go down when the cabin finally came into sight. It was small and plain—just four walls made of logs, with moss stuffed into the cracks to keep out the cold. They were a few steps from the front porch when Mom stopped short. "What's wrong?" Dad asked.