thør
Karhu-er
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Kinda so-so compared to the norm in Fairbanks when I was going to undergrad school.
North to the Future
- Thread starter thør
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thør
Karhu-er
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Make a plan!I’ve just got to see the Northern Lights before I’m too old!
Pairaclities
Literotica Guru
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Well the best ones were always multi-colored and scanning the sky in waves. But, all the bright, intense ones are great.
thør
Karhu-er
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The best ever was multi-colored and danced in waves from horizon to horizon. I swear you could hear them crackle. It was fucking cold outside and we stood and watched until we damn near froze. Then, we got back into the van (which groaned hard when starting up) and continued on the road trip.
thør
Karhu-er
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Pairaclities
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^^^^
That is a pretty incredible race, A+ for stamina.
That is a pretty incredible race, A+ for stamina.
thør
Karhu-er
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Pairaclities
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I had to laugh at the news report showing Biden telling either the US house or senate that oil will be necessity for the next 10 years in defense of the Alaska drilling approval. The lawmakers were all laughing, especially, and in particular, with repect to his comments when he cancelled the Keystone pipeline.
thør
Karhu-er
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10 years is fairly short sighted.
Yet, at the Alpine Oilfield, ConocoPhillips is testing two electric F-150s and so far, are pleasantly surprised at how they're working out. Vehicles in the arctic are a bitch to maintain. If those 150s turn out to be equal or better than ICE, for sure, there will be a pile of them ordered. It's not like they have to drive very far, they just have to be reliable and not leak fluids.
Let's not even talk about leaked emails.....
Yet, at the Alpine Oilfield, ConocoPhillips is testing two electric F-150s and so far, are pleasantly surprised at how they're working out. Vehicles in the arctic are a bitch to maintain. If those 150s turn out to be equal or better than ICE, for sure, there will be a pile of them ordered. It's not like they have to drive very far, they just have to be reliable and not leak fluids.
Let's not even talk about leaked emails.....
thør
Karhu-er
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"
Prologue from The Call of the Last Frontier
I am alone on a beach in Alaska. I have been isolated here for eighteen months and might as well be on another planet. It is wintertime, and a storm is blowing mist off the Bering Sea waves as they crash onto the black sand at my feet. I cradle my frozen self and stare out across the endless white caps of the angry sea. My coat is soaked, but I don’t care. I know people are out there, I remind myself, for all the good they will do me here.
Memories from my childhood in Detroit surface, and I leave this sandy spit for the busy city streets, if only in my imagination. I remember the hustle of people along the city sidewalks and the conversations heard as people pass by, hurrying to their destinations. I picture myself standing on a busy street corner with the smell of fresh wet pavement and the sound of water splashing under the tires. A sprinkle of spring rain touches my face and then I am pulled back to my reality. Thick Alaskan raindrops painfully pelt my tender skin as the wind picks up. Cold rain runs down my bright red cheeks, and the sting shifts to a freezing numbness. My tongue licks the ocean’s salty mist from my lips.
A rusty blue Suburban sits on a dune in the distance, overlooking the beach from a primitive road. My family awaits my return, watching the storm’s action from the warmth of the old school vehicle. No one else ventured out today.
“Come out of the storm!” The raging waves and wind drown out my husband’s voice. He is becoming impatient and worried as I stand in the furious wind. He hollers to me. “You’re soaked. Let’s go!”
I steal another moment of solitude. Efforts to transplant myself back to Detroit fail. I face the turbulent sea before me. Not a soul is in sight; I feel so alone on this spit. How did I end up here of all places? I feel stuck, helpless to change my circumstances. The tiny Aleut village of thirty winter residents is a mile down the black sand road. I seldom see any of them. Only nine school-aged children cross my path daily.
The creak of the rusty Suburban door is lost in the ferocious wind. My husband’s voice radiates across the beach as he steps out into the storm. “Come on!” He is worried about me. Am I losing my grip as he did last winter? He recognizes the signs of cabin fever.
As I turn my back to the sea, the wind presses my red coat against my body. Rain peppers my backside, drenching my remaining dry spots as I work my way back down the beach and climb the hill to my waiting family. They are all I have out here. We spend every waking hour together, and yet my loneliness reaches to the depths of my soul at times.
When you live in a city like Detroit, it’s hard to believe there is a place like this. When you live in a place like this, it’s hard to believe there is a city like Detroit."
– Melissa L. Cook, 1996
Prologue from The Call of the Last Frontier
I am alone on a beach in Alaska. I have been isolated here for eighteen months and might as well be on another planet. It is wintertime, and a storm is blowing mist off the Bering Sea waves as they crash onto the black sand at my feet. I cradle my frozen self and stare out across the endless white caps of the angry sea. My coat is soaked, but I don’t care. I know people are out there, I remind myself, for all the good they will do me here.
Memories from my childhood in Detroit surface, and I leave this sandy spit for the busy city streets, if only in my imagination. I remember the hustle of people along the city sidewalks and the conversations heard as people pass by, hurrying to their destinations. I picture myself standing on a busy street corner with the smell of fresh wet pavement and the sound of water splashing under the tires. A sprinkle of spring rain touches my face and then I am pulled back to my reality. Thick Alaskan raindrops painfully pelt my tender skin as the wind picks up. Cold rain runs down my bright red cheeks, and the sting shifts to a freezing numbness. My tongue licks the ocean’s salty mist from my lips.
A rusty blue Suburban sits on a dune in the distance, overlooking the beach from a primitive road. My family awaits my return, watching the storm’s action from the warmth of the old school vehicle. No one else ventured out today.
“Come out of the storm!” The raging waves and wind drown out my husband’s voice. He is becoming impatient and worried as I stand in the furious wind. He hollers to me. “You’re soaked. Let’s go!”
I steal another moment of solitude. Efforts to transplant myself back to Detroit fail. I face the turbulent sea before me. Not a soul is in sight; I feel so alone on this spit. How did I end up here of all places? I feel stuck, helpless to change my circumstances. The tiny Aleut village of thirty winter residents is a mile down the black sand road. I seldom see any of them. Only nine school-aged children cross my path daily.
The creak of the rusty Suburban door is lost in the ferocious wind. My husband’s voice radiates across the beach as he steps out into the storm. “Come on!” He is worried about me. Am I losing my grip as he did last winter? He recognizes the signs of cabin fever.
As I turn my back to the sea, the wind presses my red coat against my body. Rain peppers my backside, drenching my remaining dry spots as I work my way back down the beach and climb the hill to my waiting family. They are all I have out here. We spend every waking hour together, and yet my loneliness reaches to the depths of my soul at times.
When you live in a city like Detroit, it’s hard to believe there is a place like this. When you live in a place like this, it’s hard to believe there is a city like Detroit."
– Melissa L. Cook, 1996
thør
Karhu-er
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AceDesSpades
Ramblin'Gamblin'Man
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Where's the ancient aliens guy(s) who say that sort of pictograph can only be made with alien help?
Erich von Däniken has a lot to answer for.
AceDesSpades
Ramblin'Gamblin'Man
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Strange coincidences:
The world’s top alien hunter is about to embark on his most ambitious—and potentially history-making—mission yet. Harvard physicist Avi Loeb is organizing a $1.5-million expedition to Papua New Guinea to search for fragments of a very strange meteorite that impacted just off the coast of the Pacific nation in 2014.
...
It’s worth the risk, Loeb told The Daily Beast. Any fragments the team recovers could turn out to be “technological”—that is, clearly manufactured and thus strong evidence of the existence of aliens....
https://dnyuz.com/2023/03/23/a-harv...ng-to-prove-this-meteorite-is-an-alien-probe/
The world’s top alien hunter is about to embark on his most ambitious—and potentially history-making—mission yet. Harvard physicist Avi Loeb is organizing a $1.5-million expedition to Papua New Guinea to search for fragments of a very strange meteorite that impacted just off the coast of the Pacific nation in 2014.
...
It’s worth the risk, Loeb told The Daily Beast. Any fragments the team recovers could turn out to be “technological”—that is, clearly manufactured and thus strong evidence of the existence of aliens....
https://dnyuz.com/2023/03/23/a-harv...ng-to-prove-this-meteorite-is-an-alien-probe/
