Alaskan Homestead Kid: Part I Homestead Girl, Part Ii Homestead Teen

By Cherie Curtis

Homestead Kid is a fresh perspective of pioneering the rugged Alaskan interior. Cherie recounts her personal experiences in a childs point of view from age five to nineteen. Her family moved to Alaska in the 1970s with seven kids and a dream of living off the grid. Alaskan Homestead Kid deals with many interesting and dangerous situations and people as she survives this far-north adventure.

• Language: English
• Publisher: WestBow Press
• Release date: Mar 2, 2016
• ISBN: 9781512728187

Cherie Curtis

Born on a tropical island, Cherie Carlson was raised in the frozen Alaskan bush. At a young age she recalls the hard work of pioneering with her parents and many siblings. It was much like stepping back in time to the 1800s as she deals with hauling water, outhouses, and hunting for food. Despite the unique challenges of this life, Cherie stayed warm, persevered, and even thrived! Her plucky, positive attitude and love for adventure came in handy when the days grew short, cold, and difficult. She discovers that the Alaskan wilderness is an amazing place to grow up and develop essential life skills. Sliding down frozen creek beds, skinning bear, and journaling have all seasoned her outlook on the journey to adulthood. Cherie graduated homeschooling and attended Alaska Bible College, where she met her husband, Toby Curtis. Together they have two beautiful daughters, have owned and operated a few businesses, have lived in Alaska, Wyoming, Colorado, and Wisconsin, and have done some missionary work in Africa. Cherie enjoys writing, painting, cooking, and crafting most anything. Most importantly, she is willing to serve her awesome God with the rest of her life on earth.

Book preview

Copyright © 2016 Cherie Curtis.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

Scripture taken from the Holy Bible, NEW INTERNATIONAL VERSION®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984 by Biblica, Inc. All rights reserved worldwide. Used by permission. NEW INTERNATIONAL VERSION® and NIV® are registered trademarks of Biblica, Inc. Use of either trademark for the offering of goods or services requires the prior written consent of Biblica US, Inc.

WestBow Press

A Division of Thomas Nelson & Zondervan

1663 Liberty Drive

Bloomington, IN 47403

www.westbowpress.com

1 [phone]

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

ISBN: 978-1-5127-2819-4 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5127-2820-0 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-5127-2818-7 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2016901190

WestBow Press rev. date: 03/01/2016

This book is lovingly dedicated to the memory of

1cranberry.jpg

the Cranberry Cottage (1976–2010) and the Cozy Cabin (1978–2014).

Glossary

ALCAN—The Alaskan–Canadian highway, which starts in British Columbia, Canada, and ends in Delta Junction, Alaska

Alyeska—The Alyeska Pipeline Service Company, a group of companies that built the Trans-Alaska Pipeline and the North Slope Haul Road (Dalton Highway)

Cheechako—An inexperienced person living in Alaska, usually for a short period of time

Elliott—A road connecting the Steese Highway and the Dalton Highway

Honey bucket—An indoor portable toilet

Lower 48—Refers to the forty-eight continental United States

Outhouse—An outdoor toilet

Sourdough—An experienced person living in Alaska who has lived there for some time

Trapline—An area of wilderness in which a trapper maintains multiple traps and snares for wild animals

Yukon River—The longest and largest river in Alaska

Contents

Introduction

Part 1: Homestead Girl

Chapter 1: Preparation

Chapter 2: The Trip

Chapter 3: Alaska

Chapter 4: Harvey Houses

Chapter 5: Neighbors

Chapter 6: Spring

Chapter 7: The Griffins

Chapter 8: A New Baby

Chapter 9: The Homestead

Chapter 10: Strangers

Chapter 11: Pressure

Chapter 12: Finishing Touches

Chapter 13: Home Sweet Home

Chapter 14: Work, Work, Work

Chapter 15: Andy

Chapter 16: A Sauna

Chapter 17: Traditions

Chapter 18: Let It Snow

Chapter 19: Home Alone

Chapter 20: Bear!

Chapter 21: Homestead Bounty

Chapter 22: Homeschool

Chapter 23: A Dark, Cold World

Chapter 24: Prancer

Chapter 25: Guests

Chapter 26: Visitors

Chapter 27: Homestead Friends

Chapter 28: Homestead Kids

Chapter 29: Homestead Girl

Part 2: Homestead Teen

Dad and Mom’s Homestead Legacy

Chapter 30: Tween Years

Chapter 31: Tree Fort

Chapter 32: Trappers and Troublemakers

Chapter 33: A Girls’ Day In

Chapter 34: Pests

Chapter 35: Babysitting

Chapter 36: Two Runaways

Chapter 37: Wildwood General Store

Chapter 38: Hunting Season

Chapter 39: Wilderness Camp

Chapter 40: Misfit Renters

Chapter 41: Additions

Chapter 42: North Word

Chapter 43: The Norwegian Princess

Chapter 44: Screams and Squawks

Chapter 45: Roller Dating

Chapter 46: All Is Fair

Chapter 47: Sweet Sixteen

Chapter 48: Yellow Canary

Chapter 49: Tour Time

Chapter 50: Salmon Summer

Chapter 51: Arctic Circle Hot Springs

Chapter 52: Homesick

Chapter 53: ABC

Epilogue

Introduction

I have always enjoyed life, all aspects of its simple delights. Go ahead, call me an optimist or a glass-half-full person, but I know that God gave me this gift. I don’t think I’m better than anyone else, maybe just better off. What else would you call the ability to look forward to each new season (yes, even winter when you’re 120 miles from the Arctic Circle) if you don’t call it a gift from God? Maybe I am able to do this because I purposely set my expectations low. Simplicity works well in my favor on this point. When my expectations are low, I am pleasantly surprised when things go well. I think that more people should practice this skill, as they’ll get to experience things that turn out better than anticipated, kind of like when the almanac predicts a hard, cold, long winter and the winter turns out to be just a regular one. All the while, people had braced themselves for the worst. See, low expectations pay off. This is what life really is: what happens when you may have been expecting or planning something else.

I am a person who was raised on an Alaska homestead. You may wonder about what kinds of things an Alaska homestead kid enjoys. How about singing in the outhouse, sloughing off by the river, or even hunting red squirrels, to name a few activities? Oh, and as I got older, I really enjoyed reading, journaling, sketching, horseback riding, tree climbing, making crafts, baking, and target shooting. However, I had plenty of social opportunities through summer camps, roller skating, shopping, and sleepovers. Boys? you may ask. Needless to say, the Alaska bush does not have much to pick from in this area. Throughout the years, my checklist for a dream guy kept getting longer.

Now, sure, there are a couple things that I didn’t like to do that young people find unusual. For instance, I was extremely uncomfortable talking on the phone. The only phone I came into contact with was the pay phone in Fred Meyer when I had to call my best friend who lived in town. Hated it! Another thing I didn’t get pleasure from was competitive sports. I suppose I never got the chance to practice them enough in order to get good at any of them. Volleyball was the worst of all, for I am short and extremely self-conscious. And again, I had no chance to practice it. I still can’t get my head wrapped around softball, as it’s painfully slow and I could never hit the ball. I could run, though. Running was one sport that I could practice at will—and I was surprisingly fast given my short legs!

Of course, there are the things that all children or teens don’t like to do. I was no exception. Listed in random order, my least favorite things to do were chores, washing and hanging up clothes, weeding the garden, cleaning the barns, going to school, washing dishes, cutting wood, and processing meat. With a family of twelve, even a simple chore, such as doing the dishes, was multiplied out of control. You can imagine trying to keep up with a garden that has twelve mouths to feed and only three months to do it! Or think how it would be if you were washing a week’s worth of laundry (again, for twelve people) with ten gallons of water hauled from the spring. It was like living in the 1800s, only it was the 1980s. Just because I didn’t like to do these things in quantity doesn’t mean that I didn’t find enjoyment in doing them. A job done, just as long as it was done, gives a person a satisfying sense of worth and a refreshing night’s sleep—and that’s just two benefits. Now, a job well done does even more than that: it glorifies God, it gives that task meaning and purpose, and your future boss will love it! Even the wisest man who ever lived on earth once said, Whatever your hand finds to do, do it with all your might, for in the grave, where you are going, there is neither working nor planning nor knowledge nor wisdom (Ecclesiastes 9:10).

My family has always been unusual, and not just in the way we lived. I started out as the second born into this unique family. After a couple of years, I became a middle child when we adopted a baby from Japan. Then I was bumped down to sibling number six when my parents adopted a family of four, all of whom were older than I was. Then, in my teen years, I worked my way back up to oldest, because my older siblings left home. There are still ten at home—twelve if you count Mom and Dad. Of my siblings, four are like me, natural-born, and the rest were adopted from a variety of backgrounds and countries. Tossed into the mix were some foster kids whom we sometimes took in and also the children of some friends or neighbors, whom we helped out by keeping their children for a month or two.

All families have many things for which a member can be thankful. With my large family, I find that this is still true. First of all, there was never a dull moment around our house, no siree. As soon as the chores and schoolwork were done, I found many things to occupy my well-used time. If I was tired of playing with one sibling, I had plenty others to pick from who suited me quite nicely for my next adventure. Another fact with a lot of siblings is that there were always others who were acting worse than I. Whereas a normal-size family might have one black sheep, mine had two or three who were demanding the attention (both positive and negative). One more thing that was good about having a large family was the fact that whatever I cooked was eaten—nay, devoured—and enjoyed. Later on, when I was the next up to leave home and go into the great unknown, I was pretty confident of my ability to cook and to improvise in the kitchen.

I think this introduction pretty much intimates the setting in which my story takes place. You can see me as the little blonde homestead girl who has a lot more questions than answers. Cautious and shy, I become a young woman who finds faith and purpose in life in my tiny, cold corner of the vast Arctic. I pray that you will witness the unshaken love I possess for my family and my God. You may feel the heartfelt emotions in the struggles and triumphs of the life-shaping experiences described in this book. I hope you will also be encouraged to do what others say is impossible and to live out loud your own dreams and adventures.

In His grip,

Cherie Carlson Curtis

Part 1

HOMESTEAD GIRL

2girl.JPG

Chapter 1

Preparation

Not many families consider the possibility of moving to Alaska, adopting four siblings, raising goats, or even living off the land. They may consider one or another of these things, but certainly not all of the above at once.

But the Carson family is not your typical family. Joe and Nancy Carlson are not your typical parents. With Joe just out of the navy and he and his wife recently having adopted a family of four, the Carlsons wished to try a new adventure where they could homeschool their seven children. They wanted a place where they could raise animals and grow gardens to provide for themselves.

After reading books like Living in Alaska on Pennies a Day and Cheaper by the Dozen, Nancy presented the idea to her husband. It was also around this time that they had heard of free homestead land in Alaska and thought it was worth the shot. Joe had always been a firm believer in hard work and honest living; he wanted to teach his children to honor the same. Being adventurous at heart, the couple quickly began to put their plan in motion.

Joe bought an old 1951 GMC school bus for a thousand dollars. The family, with the help of relatives and friends, rolled up their sleeves and got to work fixing it from the inside out. The bus was red with a white roof. Storage racks on top were added for the much-needed supplies. All the seats were removed, leaving the interior bare and ready for the remodel.

The remodel began at the front of the bus with a dining table on one side securely fastened to the floor with bolts so it would not move around. There was just enough space for everyone to sit—no elbow room. On the opposite side of the table were the stove, counter, and cabinets. The stove consisted of a propane burner set on the tiny countertop. On the far end of the counter was a small sink that emptied into a pail beneath. Brightly curtained windows shone cheerfully above the sink. Every bit of space was utilized efficiently.

The next section in the bus was committed to being the bathroom. It was actually a portable toilet made of a bucket with a toilet seat, and it was outfitted with a medicine cabinet holding first-aid supplies, and a toothbrush hanger that Grandpa Zak had made. This last was a plaque made of wood with the made-up word kwitcherbellyakin embossed across the front. It had nine hooks along the bottom to hang the family’s toothbrushes.

Across from the bathroom was a bunk bed that held the youngest five children at night. Julie and Cherie slept on one side of the bottom bunk, and Jon slept on the other. Andy and Katie were on the top bunk across from each other. This led to a lot of playing of footsie and goofing around, but it was the best-case scenario for all.

The last section of the bus was partitioned off for a bed for Joe and Nancy. The older boys Greg and Brad slept under the bed, and a few extra things were stored there. The parents’ quarters could be accessed from inside the bus, but the boys’ area could only be accessed from the back door. This partition completed the remodel. From Joe and Nancy’s bed all the way to Joe’s driver’s seat was a small aisle.

The upcoming move was all so very exciting to Cherie as she skipped and hummed down the middle aisle. Her hand rested on the thick, comfy quilts Grandma Zak had lovingly made for the bunks; each grandchild had a unique one of his or her own. Cherie gazed dreamily at the flower-printed curtains and the pretty tablecloth on the table. Everything was clean, neat, and securely in place for the long journey to their new home. Under the hood, the engine was tuned and purring contentedly. Newer tires were put in place, a couple of spares were added, and extra fuel cans completed the bus.

Behind this magnificent setup sat a yellow and green trailer that contained household goods, canned food, and miscellaneous supplies. This was also where the animals rode. Joe partitioned off the supplies, the goats, and the dogs so they were separated from one another. He then cut some windows in the sides so the animals could peer through. Some friends had suggested that quality goats and Labrador dogs were a sure income investment in the North, because there simply were not enough in Alaska.

The dogs with purebred papers were purchased and quickly became part of the family. Sam was the larger and more powerful of the two. He was very protective and boisterous; he scared most everyone away with his fierce growls and loud barking. Mercy, the female, was much smaller and more petite. She had a very sweet personality and was as placid as a dog ever could be. Mercy was soon everyone’s favorite. She was brought onto the bus as often as the children could get away with it.

Before the bus remodel was done and before the family set off, Mercy gave birth to ten puppies! Cherie would sneak back to the trailer as much as possible to see the adorable critters as they curled under Mercy just beneath the trailer.

Now the goats were a different case. They were also of a good breed quality—for the purpose of the best resale price, of course. However, Cherie did not feel any sort of connection with them at all. She thought that they were ugly and mean, smelled awful, and were just plain weird— especially the male. Some had horns and some did not. Some had spots and some were one solid color. There were only four of them, but it seemed to her that there were a lot more. She thought they were interesting to watch from a distance, as they did the strangest things and made the strangest noises. In no time at all, the ones with horns had caught their heads in the little windows. By the time the noisy captives were released, the small windows were much larger. They now varied in size and shape, each looking like a star or a triangle.

All right, you guys, you red-eye? Joe had just sat down in the driver’s seat and was ready to put the bus in gear. This was his typically humorous way of asking if the family were ready to go.

Nancy had counted heads to make sure everyone was in his or her place. A buddy system had been assigned: Greg was with Brad, Andy was paired with Katie, Cherie was with Julie, and then there was Jon, who was left without a partner. Being the baby at age two, he was the one the whole family kept safe and secure.

The day had come to leave Minnesota. The family had never been so prepared, either physically and mentally. They had never before been so united and geared up for anything. It was quite a spectacle to behold. The bus loaded to the brim with a hippie-looking family would have been enough to put a smile on anyone’s face. Then add to this a covered trailer with animal heads peeking out and a Jeep Comanche that Uncle Paul was driving. This odd wagon train could not possibly contain more enthusiasm and excitement than was felt by the Carlson family as they headed north to the future—a future that was as uncertain and as scary as their calling was sure and exciting.

Chapter 2

The Trip

What started out to be new and exciting quickly became dull and boring. There really was not a whole lot to do in the bus hour after hour after hour. The children played as much as possible throughout the bus’s interior, but mostly they succeeded in getting on Joe and Nancy’s nerves. Looking out the windows wasn’t much better; nothing seemed to keep the young children’s interest for very long. However, Joe stopped at as many interesting places as time would allow. At such times, the children would all get out, stretch, run around, be loud, and get some of the restless energy out of their systems. Joe would spend the time checking the tie-downs, supplies, animals, and engine. Nancy would make sandwiches or a hot dish in the recently vacated eating area.

The family became very familiar with the campground routine along the way. Campgrounds became their home at night, and usually they made friends with people staying at neighboring campsites. There was always water for washing purposes and for replenishing the supply on the bus. Showers and baths would be taken. A campground is where the older boys would empty the toilet bucket. After stopping at a campground, everyone would be refreshed.

In the middle of Canada, the Carlsons’ stay at one particular campground ended up being a weeklong visit. A river had washed out a bridge, and there was an unusually wet spring breakup. The family had no choice but to wait it out. Cherie picked up on the fact that the food supply was limited and that patience was running low. Besides this, Joe had put some earnest money down on some land close to Anchorage, and the Carlsons had to get there soon.

Cherie awoke one morning and stumbled out of her bunk. She had heard the sound of the propane burner starting and knew that her dad was in the front part of the bus brewing his early morning pot of coffee. She softly walked up the center aisle and then slipped her small hand into his rough, work-worn one.

Joe glanced down and smiled. How’s my girl this morning? Joe’s cheery greeting sounded loud in the otherwise quiet atmosphere.

Good, came Cherie’s simple reply as she stepped into his open arms for a quick hug. Then, feeling a full bladder, she pulled back and made her way to the front door.

Here, let me get that for you, Joe said as he reached out to help his young daughter with the door handle that had been firmly locked in place the night before.

On the way back from the outhouse, Cherie passed by the trailer to see the animals. There was something a little different this time. It took her a minute to figure it out. She listened and heard a new sound—a soft, small sound. Then she saw them, two little spotted, wobbly-legged, big-eyed, kid goats who were the cutest ever. She promptly ran inside the bus, yelling out to everyone and waking them up with her just-discovered news.

The goats’ names were to be Yukon and Alaska. After all, they were born during the Carlsons’ memorable trip up the ALCAN Highway. Suddenly, Cherie had a whole new opinion of those weird, smelly creatures. Those two kids were so adorable and fun that the children could hardly wait for rest stops so that they could play with them. The baby goats would run and jump and climb on most anything. Greg even found out that when you made a fist and pushed on the tops of a kid’s head, it would push back. The entertainment possibilities were endless.

At one of the rest stops, it was found that the trailer partition had broken as a result of the stress of the long trip. The break was situated between the goats and the miscellaneous supplies, a mixture that resulted in destruction. By the time the break had been discovered, the goats had torn to shreds most of the animal food and any other things that they could sink their teeth into. They scraped up as much of the feed from the floor as possible, but their extended stomachs revealed the large amounts that had already been consumed.

Fortunately, the food that had been stored there was the canned food—and the goats hadn’t damaged it much. Nonetheless, each can was thereafter missing its label, making it hard to know what was in it. The family had surprise entrées the rest of the trip. The question What’s for dinner? was an honest-to-goodness question that they didn’t know how to answer until the can was opened.

*   *   *

Mom, can we go swimming in the river now, please! Cherie, Julie, and Jon had come up to Nancy for the tenth time with this same question. It was hot out, and the water was such a draw to the young children. They knew she hadn’t said no, so she was possibly ready to give in this time.

Okay, fine, just go ahead. Only stay close to the bank, she said with a deep sigh.

The two girls squealed with delight and ran toward the