Kotzebue, Alaska. The west wind off the ice has kept the bugs down, and in the sunny Arctic nights I’ve been working on a kayak for my daughter, China. Actually, I’m copying one my dad built back in the 1970s, a light hunting craft I used all my life.
These days I have cordless power tools—drills, screw guns, and a jigsaw—items that would have been magic in my youth, woodworking with handsaws, chisels, and a brace-an-bit. (Not to mention first snowshoeing out to find a tree, then hauling it home to make boards.) I’ve been surprised, though, piecing a kayak together here on a blue tarp, how impatient I am. I miss not being busy, and immersing myself in a project. Once in a while I stop and marvel at these modern riches—even this blue disposable tarp.
This winter when China and I snow-machined downriver from our home along the Kobuk, I lashed that old kayak on my sled.
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