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Clare
Baldwin
12th Grade, Colony High
School,
Palmer, Alaska
"There is something about uninhabited areas -- especially
mountains -- that attracts me." So writes Clare Baldwin
about her climb on Mt. Spurr in March of 2000. Clare was
part of a four-person team that attempted to reach the
7500-foot summit of this Kenai Peninsula peak. The group was
flown in by chartered plane under auspiciously sunny skies,
but in the following days they encountered first winds, then
blizzards, and finally an avalanche risk that turned them
back just 575 feet below their goal. One of the team's final
tasks was to stomp out a 32,000 square foot runway for the
plane. "After we loaded our gear into the plane," Clare
writes, "things began to seem complicated again. In our
regular lives there was no such thing as a storm day when
you could lie in your sleeping bag watching the frost turn
to water droplets on the inside of the tent."
If her first passion is
mountain-climbing, her second is writing. The 18-year-old
senior from Colony High School in Palmer, Alaska is a
founding member of that school's literary magazine, and a
reporter for The Frontiersman, a newspaper serving
the Matanuska-Susitka Valley. "I love to write -- mostly
creative writing, but newspaper reporting is a wonderful
experience. In the newsroom I am surrounded by people who
are really excited about writing." When asked about her
favorite books, Clare cites several: Arctic Dreams by
Barry Lopez, The Stars, The Snow, The Fire by John
Haines, The Stone Harp, also by John Haines,
Walden by Henry David Thoreau, My Side of the
Mountain by Jean Craighead George. It comes as no
surprise to learn that her favorite spot in Alaska is a
mountain: "My family has a cabin up in the Talkeetna
Mountains, a two-story cedar cabin about a mile below
tree-line on Bald Mountain. I've spent a lot of time living
there. When you hike above tree-line on a clear day, it
seems as if you could step off the edge of the mountains and
right into the tundra."
Reflections on the
Harriman Expedition Retraced
Writer Richard Nelson was my
mentor during the expedition. When I think of Richard, I
think of him running around the ship in black Velcro
sandals, black pile pants and a lavender sweatshirt with a
picture of a raven on it. He is laughing and telling someone
about the first time he tried to hook up his dog
team.
Chronologically, Richard is old.
It shows in the texture of his hands and the color of his
hair. But his enthusiasm and his ideas belong to someone
much younger. I remember sitting next to him during lecture
one day and glancing over to see him using binoculars to
examine the details of the slide! I burst out laughing. I
think most people would have just moved closer.
I first met Richard two years
ago when I ate lunch with him at a writing conference in
Anchorage. We were talking about school and I told him about
a scholarship I had applied for to travel along the coast of
Alaska with writers, artists, naturalists, and scientists,
retracing the Harriman Alaska Expedition of 100 years ago.
When I finished, he looked at me and grinned, "Hey," he
said, "I'm going to be on that. There's another boy in Sitka
I know who applied for it, too. I really hope you both make
it. Keep me posted."
A few months later, both Jonas
and I were asked to join the Expedition and Richard became
my mentor. I asked Richard to be my mentor because I like
the way he thinks and the way he expresses himself when he
writes. When you read something Richard has written, it's
like he's right there in the room with you, telling you a
story. He writes with the same honesty that he speaks and
often puts it in perspective with comments like, "That's
pathetic - think of how much of your life goes into
something as little as writing a book!" that make everyone
around him smile. I also knew he had spent a lot of time
working in small Native communities and addressing questions
of conservation versus economics. I found out later that he
had first come to Alaska to do anthropological fieldwork
when he was 19. He ended up getting a degree in anthropology
from the University of Wisconsin, then lived with the
Koyukon, Kobuk Eskimo, Kutchin Athapaskan, and Arctic Coast
Eskimos in Alaska before settling in Sitka, where he lives
now.
Whenever Richard talks about
these experiences, he does so humbly, pointing out that
indigenous people often call an anthropologist who lives
with them a "child." Sometimes Richard claims he still
hasn't grown up. I agree with him in a friendly kind of way.
After we had taken a zodiac trip around the Triplet Islands,
I showed Richard a kelp horn Dale had made. He played a few
notes, then told me he had a digeridoo in his cabin. That
was in addition to the wetsuit, boogie board, and chunks of
smoked salmon he had in his fridge!
I admire Richard because he puts
so much emphasis on learning to the maximum extent with your
whole body. He turned to me once and said, "Taking for
granted you are a good writer and write often, it is your
most important job to go out and climb Mt. Spurr . . . I can
live without writing, but not without what I write about."
Hence the boogie board and wetsuit. Richard lives in a way
he couldn't live anywhere else.
Richard made it a point to talk
to everyone during the Expedition. He would catch people in
groups or individually; he would smile if anyone caught his
eye. He really seemed to be at home with all the different
people on the ship. I thought it was so neat that an adult
like Richard would do this. He could be anywhere, talking to
anybody, doing anything. Yet here he was, telling me how a
northern fulmar skims the top of a wave to catch the
updraft, and how it's playful and like a dance, but
physiologically brilliant because it conserves energy when
the bird is at sea for long periods of time. All of the
scholars were more or less like this and it was so nice not
to just be dismissed as a kid.
It's been a lot of fun to work
with Richard and great proof that age is more of a mind set
than a physical condition. When we parted at the airport in
Nome, I told him that I wanted to be just as excited about
things when I was his age. I also hope I have the
opportunity to put as much time and interest into someone
else as Richard put into me.
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