Two Forks
From summer 1990 in geologic exploratory camp near McGrath, AK.
Warren asks what I will write about this camp, but it’s difficult when there are no absurdities or flagrant personalities giving fuel to biting humor.
I could make fun of the happy couple recently transformed from normal humans to a cooing, giggling, flirtatious and exclusive couple of lovesick sweeties, but making light of romance is too cynical, even for me.
I could taunt the boss, but I do that every day and it’s only entertaining when he’s there to growl retorts.
And how could anyone make fun of Those Guys the Boys? They’ve practically sanded their noses off keeping so close to the grindstone.
I see Two Forks as a unit. Physically and socially this is our Summer of ’90 with its people, institutions and laws. The first law is since two forks were found in the garbage, if another appears in the trash, you die.
This first law was written by my predecessor, Marilyn. You just never know what will be worth yelling about in camps like this.
Everyone’s entitled one peeve and Marilyn’s was forks. I have two, but they come under the same heading of “lunch”: lunch mess and the crew not eating leftovers at lunch.
Zoom really hates being called Those Guys the Boys.
Joan can’t stand it when Will won’t make up his mind or changes plans without informing her.
Matt yearns for more barbecue and fewer mushrooms.
Paul dislikes it when it’s his turn to ask for more cookies.
Warren doesn’t like sample caches.
Taku hates it when breakfast is just mush and dinner is beans.
Will, being the boss, has many peeves, but perhaps his biggest one is Joan being late for breakfast,
A recap of Two Forks laws: don’t throw anymore forks in the trash, clean up your lunch mess after eating leftovers, don’t stigmatize anyone, make up your mind and keep interested parties posted, eat less fungus and more burnt bits on the grill, make cookies more often, carry your samples with you, feed the dog only the best table scraps, and get your ass to breakfast on time.
Not bad for a society of seven humans and one dog.
And what of the people?
There’s our legendary leader William who is infamous in Alaska’s geologic circles for his arbitrary rules and ritualistic camp structure. In real life he’s just a sucker for beans. Some say his love of beans is for the flatulence he can release in close quarters. He claims Matt is the true culprit.
Matthew has had years as ship’s field mechanic to perfect the fine art of never looking busy. Leader in his own right, he knows how to supervise meal planning and preparation, keep an eye on the women folk, maintain camp equipment, and absorb snide remarks about his lethargy. His tent resembles a warehouse stocked with all tools necessary to fix anything from helicopters to gold dredges, but his specialty is travel alarms. His tent is the quintessential Alaskan home and even has a broken-down Tonka truck parked in his front lawn.
These Guys the Boys Zoom is a hardworking doctoral student doing recon by day and thesis or gold panning by night. He holds all Interior Alaska records for consuming mass quantities of food with no visible effect on his waistline.
Joan, camp bear trap, endlessly logs core and keeps Those Guy the Boys and Will in line. She sees to it camp is stocked with beer and current photos of Tom Cruise. She is the only camper with Weatherport tent so keeps her abode neat and ready for any unannounced visits by locals, recently those locals being Yogi and Boo Boo.
Those Guys the Boys Paul dutifully goes out daily to hang by his nails on cliffs to bang on those exposed alterations to get the best samples. He spends his nights in exhaustive research of Star Trek and The Next Generation. He doesn’t always eat his seaweed.
Warren, the Marlboro Light pilot, refuses to eat rice cereal but loves canned tomatoes. He is constantly in the air, making runs to town, Granite Creek, Ganes Creek, back to town, slings drill gear, then to Beaver’s, all without complaint. He is rarely seen at the cribbage table or Burn Barrel Social Hour.
And then there’s Taku:
Once there was a dog named Taku
Always smilin’, sometimes playing the fool.
He chases rocks and eats big sticks
Got tail scratched but never licked.
He bit bears’ butts and barked at ‘em, too
Without him camp wouldn’t know what to do;
He wags his tail and waits for food
Hungry eyes only table scraps can soothe.
Goes to creek and gets all wet
Goes each day and ain’t bored yet.
Anna snarls at inquiries on the time and content of dinner. From her tent she views most of the Two Forks institutions.
First, there is the office, home to all geo works. Its porch is fashionably decorated with all the latest rocks, antlers, packs and jackets.
Kitchen/laundry/shower triplex sits under a massive tarp with life-support propane tanks standing outside fueling the innards of the complex.
Unseen, but certainly not unheard, drones the diesel generator that keeps the computer running and ice cream hard.
Badminton net stands austere and unused in the middle of the Commons, giving those crossing ground something to avoid.
Hung upside down, in apparent effigy, is a propane tank tied to camp’s gateway.
Rock Saw sits beneath its blue tarp babbling away and waiting for Matt or Zoom to make it sing.
Clothesline sports towels, trendy Montana or Friend of the Earth T-shirts, and Matt’s five wool and one polypro pairs of socks hanging as strong medicine for bear deterrent.
Joan’s office, a.k.a. core logging shed and break room, stands next to the office completing the circle of institutions.
Behind Will’s tent is the outhouse. Is there a message in that?
Fourth of July Creek lies below camp beckoning gold seekers to come down and try their luck in her gravel bottoms. Forest fires leave us their smoky countenance but spare us their flames. Bugs give us a common enemy, keeping us from turning on one another.
And that’s Two Forks, more or less. Be it ever so humble, we drifters currently call it home. Soon, it will only be a memory, perhaps captured on film or paper, fading with time as a place where we once were and uh, what was that guy’s name who could eat so much and always read Star Trek? No, one ate a lot and read Sci Fi and the other one read Star Trek. Remember the cook who always made runny mush?
The mush was only runny once. At least remember that much.