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I'm posting these missives in honor of longtime Talkeetna resident Mike Fisher. Mike sent me these e-mails in
August to forward to Jean Armstrong, my mother-in-law, who always enjoyed his visits, and in case there was
anything I wanted to run in the paper. Jeano always enjoyed hearing his tales of biking through Poland.
I wanted to run all of his notes to friends and family in the paper, but settled on his column at the end about
biking's heyday in Talkeetna. The last time we talked -- a few months ago at the Talkeetna Roadhouse -- I told
him I hoped we could work these into a column for a winter edition. That never happened.
Mike passed away Feb. 8, 2009 from cancer. We will miss the future columns he was going to write on biking
in Talkeetna and elsewhere, but we're happy to have the one he did write, and these writings about his travels.
We'll miss you at Jeano's annual birthday party, Mike. Thanks for sharing with me your knowledge of local
history and things that happened in our cabin, and for sharing your travel experiences with all of us.
John R. Moses, Publisher
Alaska Pioneer Press
RETURN TO POLAND: OCT 4-06
Gentlemen:
I am the white bearded American who arrived at your offices in the spring of 2000, riding a bicycle. You
made me welcome and showed me several current projects as well as some of your history. This was an
experience more Americans should enjoy and I wish to thank you for it.
I would have liked to spend more time in Mielec, but had to leave early for airline connections in
Budapest. I will be returning to Warsaw on October 10 and departing from Warsaw about a month later. This
schedule will allow me more time in Poland to renew old friendships and enjoy your beautiful country at harvest
season.
The Polish Mountaineering Expedition to Mount McKinley arrived in my town, Talkeetna, Alaska, in the
spring of 1987. I was working as a pilot for a small air service flying into the Alaska Range, and met the four
member Klub Wysokogorski climbing team when they were camped near our airport, waiting for weather.
These men were mostly from Gdansk and about the same age as Lech Walesa. Perhaps they knew him as a
young man.
Your aircraft are flown and respected all over the world, but we don't see many of them in the United
States. That is because of trade and regulatory restrictions. There has recently been some easing of these
restrictions as they apply to very light airplanes. Perhaps some good will come of it.
If you ever need a friend in Alaska, be sure to give me a call at (907) 733-2356.
Wishing you all the best,
Michael J. Fisher
Hello Michael
This is Wit. How are you doing? We met in Mielec during your first trip to Poland of 2000. I remember you
and your incredible bicycle (rover) which drove you around the Poland, Lithuania and Czech Republic. If you
will be in Poland I would like to meet you again . So I invite you to visit the Mielec to see PZL Mielec aircraft
facility. It will be my pleasure to meet with you and talk about aviation experience.
Best regards
Wit Blaszczak
A FINE AUTUMN DAY IN WARSAW, POLAND: OCT 12-06
Dear Family and Friends,
I really like this place. The people are friendly in the same way as Alaskans. There are so many interesting
sights and sounds and things to eat. Have you ever enjoyed chlodnik --- a cold soup made with sour milk and
grated, raw beet root and dill?
I took digital pictures of some incredible graffiti, freshly painted on the circular wall of a large sports coliseum.
--- Stark, powerful art. You don't need to read Polish or have a degree in political science to understand it.
The current leadership here is right wing. Half the citizens love it and the other half want it out. Remind you of
anything going on in your country? Twenty thousand demonstrators hit the streets of Warsaw last weekend.
The leaves are still bright green, with just a trace of color. Every school yard is full of kids kicking and butting
soccer balls around. --- Great exercise and lots of fun. The children all look happy and healthy, even in the
poor neighborhoods. It's harvest time and the street markets are overflowing with wonderful vegetable's,
fruits, and exotics seldom seen in Alaska. Big fat chestnut's are on the ground under the tree at my hotel's front
porch --- wish I knew how to prepare them.
My niece, Cassidy, this year's Central Michigan College graduate with a degree in hospitality, is working at a big
hotel in London, England. I picture her dicing it out with the other young tigers and blackbelts, while having
almost too much fun in pursuit of earning her credentials. We should get together and compare observations.
Cassidy gave me an enamel emblem from a London Harley Davidson dealer as a memento of her first trip to
England. I used it as a mojo on my travels in China. The mojo this time is a sterling pin from Holly, attached to
a saddlebag. It's always good to have a mojo.
I'm going to hang around town for a few days, then head out, so long as the weather holds. Enclosed above is
a note from an old friend. These folks build aircraft of several types --- lots of them --- for many nations.
They seem to have a feel for it. Aviation is a universal language --- in common with bicycles.
Wishing you all the best.
Mike
FURTHER WANDERINGS IN POLAND: OCTOBER 24-06
Dear Family and Friends,
The weather gods have smiled on me, except for a little rain and one 20 degree F hard frost. --- Not much fun
stowing an ice covered tent. I'm nearing Krakow ---always an exciting place. There are many English speakers
around the university, and they all know where things are happening.
A common morning sight is children waiting for their school bus and running to snatch an apple from a horse
pulled wagon, filled to overflowing. Alaska kids would never do a thing like that ---- unless they got a chance.
A few old friends have questioned why I do these wanderings. I guess the short answer is: because I can. The
spirit that drives us is nicely summed up In the movie/CD: "The Worlds Fastest Indian." I recommend it.
Best wishes to all.
Mike
HANGING OUT WITH A BUNCH OF HIGH LIVING AUSSIES AND SCOTS AT MAMA'S HOSTEL IN
KRAKOW: OCT 26-06
Dear Family and Friends,
It's good to be with some English speakers again. These are the kind of educated, worldly rovers that flood
into Talkeetna every spring to take the seasonal jobs that support their travel/adventure addictions.
The region of steep ridges and fertile valleys that I zigzagged through to get here is known as Motopolska. It is
the heartland of tiny villages, farms; and regional museums of agriculture, metallurgy, and wars seldom seen by
tourists, except from the windows of a speeding train.
Abandoned narrow-gage rail crossings are everywhere. Massive trucks with names like MAN, Peugeot,
Volvo, and Tatra have pounded the county's ancient, narrow, and fragile road system to hell. In many
stretches, all you can do is get off the bike and walk. This is yet another example of how too rapid and greedy
resource extraction has produced unintended side effects. Talkeetnans have seen this in our own back yard.
Much of this damage has happened since I was last here in 2000. The efficient farm to market rail system
served the country well till it was outgrown. It took big trucks to deliver timber and other resources to Western
Europe. Speeds are necessarily low (about 43 MPH) and drivers generally considerate. Blood Alcohol limit is
0.02% --- one fourth of the limit for driving in Alaska. Still, I can no longer say that Poland is the bike friendly
place it once was. It will get better as I move away from the major centers and toward the Carpathian
mountains.
As they say in Australia: Good on Ya,
Mike
VIOLIN CONCERTS IN THE COOLNESS OF THE EVENING: OCT 30-06
Dear Family and Friends,
Krakow's night scene is an exciting one. Attractive, high-energy people from all over the world converge here.
A still beautiful older woman plays the violin just outside my hostel door every night. In my estimation, she
could easily qualify for principal chair for any major North American symphony. There is a magnetism about
her that draws and holds a throng of admirers. I hope the few zlotys tossed into the instrument's case are not
her only reward.
The cafes, pubs, and bistros are filled with mostly unaccompanied young people looking to make connections
with someone from another land. There is nothing sinister about this. It just opens up new avenues of
possibilities. How nice to know someone from London, Sydney, or San Francisco who could offer a place to
stay and possible "off the books" employment if you are an educated Pole working for a third of the North
American or West European pay scale.
I've met many Aussies, Scots, and English, along with a few North Americans. The Scots, with their extreme
regional burr, are harder to understand than the English speaking Poles.
If you are a good looking, free spending gentleman from Australia, Canada, the US, or the UK; Polish women
might offer you their company as a guide to the local hotspots. Mostly, they are restless young party animals
looking for some innocent fun. This is still a very Catholic country. I'm sure niece, Cassidy, has observed
similar happenings at her London post. On the rare occasions when a lady might direct her attention my way, in
the hope that a worldly American man might open some doors for her, I always follow the advice my mother
gave when I was five: DON'T pick that up! You don't know where it's been.
Good on ya,
Mike
SOME SCENES FROM THE HEARTLAND: NOV 7-06
Dear Family and Friends,
Three inches of freshly fallen snow and a temperature of minus three degrees Centigrade are conditions one
never wants to encounter when opening one's tent to an early Polish dawn. A gracious, young, English
speaking Swedish woman I met in Krakow told me that a big snowstorm was forecast to sweep Central Europe
in a couple days. I didn't take her seriously --- big mistake! With some hardship, I was able to break camp and
ride through slush and vehicle spray to a fair sized town with a hotel. That was the morning of November 2.
As of this November 6 writing, it has been steadily snowing or raining ever since.
When you come to a fork in the road, take it! Following this principle of navigation through the narrow
country lanes of Poland's rural heartland will sometimes bring you to a dead end. One such lead terminated at a
hilltop cemetery consisting of about ten acres of massive, imposing, elevated sarcophagus-like tombs. There
was more polished, sculptured and engraved marble than you could ever imagine. One can only wonder if the
monetary resources devoted to establishing these shrines and monuments might have been better spent
educating a grandchild or financing a farm. Perhaps, when a nation has lost so many through wars and political
assassinations, there is a heightened need for the survivors to proclaim: "I was here; my life meant something;
I succeeded, and I never want anyone to forget it!"
A school bus has just delivered the last few of its small passengers to waiting mothers who will walk them to
their homes in a tiny rural settlement. I am following it along a narrow country lane when it suddenly stops,
blocking the way. As I approach from a few hundred feet I see the reason why. A deer is thrashing wildly,
trying to get up and run on broken legs. Luckily, there are no children present to witness this sad event. The
creature is only twenty feet away; its agony and panic plead for an ending. The bus driver is talking on his cell
phone, but help is many miles away. In Alaska I would use a lug wrench to end the animal's suffering. On a
bike in Poland, I take a picture and press on ---- a stark reminder that any of us could be roadkill at any time.
I dismantled my bike and took a bleak and stormy five hour bus ride back to Warsaw. The skill and panache of
the driver in navigating the slippery, twisty narrow roads leading back to the capital was truly to be admired.
His rosary, suspended from the rear view mirror, swung wildly back and forth the entire ride. In some parts of
the US such a public transit display of strong faith might be banned as offensive to non-believers. Holly's little
silver chipmunk sewed to a bicycle pannier; a rosary hanging from a bus mirror; --- these icons may possess
more power than one might think. They keep us alert and ever mindful that we must do our part.
On a happier note, gleaning time is peaking. Unlike me, the farmers know that big weather is coming and are
rushing to complete the harvest. Wonderful, fresh vegetables all along the roads where they have fallen from
over-loaded wagons --- there for the taking. Cabbages are stacked in windrows twelve feet high and hundreds
of feet long. Roadside stands offer gunny sacks full of beets, onions, parsnips, carrots,and potatoes. Fresh,
pre-sliced cabbage is sold in giant plastic sacks for people to make their own sauerkraut. Crisp, tart, sweet and
flavorful apples are everywhere. In the US, such fruit would be called heirloom varieties, and available only to a
fortunate few who live near the source. The rest of us must content ourselves with the long keeping, tough
skinned, insipid tasting supermarket varieties.
I'm quite happy to experience the sights and sounds of Warsaw till my flight leaves on November 10. There is
energy and excitement here.
Well, as they say in southern Australia: Good on y'all,
Mike
FLYING HOME: NOV 9-06
Dear Family and Friends,
All Saint's Day on November first is a major holiday in Poland. Every village's cemetery has large crowds of
somber, well dressed faithful of all ages. There are incredible displays of fresh cut flowers. The entire country
shuts down, except for the flower and candle shops. Travelers without food reserves could starve. My
Swedish friend from the hostel tried to alert me to this. Again, her good counsel fell on insensitive ears and
again, it cost me. The belief that much conventional wisdom is flawed has often served me well. However,
there is price to be paid for not marching to the standard drumbeat. On occasion it is correct, and not
listening exacts a toll.
The Polish National Aviation Museum at Krakow is one of the top ten in Europe. Eastern Bloc primary and
advanced training aircraft from cold war era are especially well represented. Their historic engine collection is
one of the best I've seen. In the early twentieth century, while the Wright brothers and the Loenings were
fighting over the use of ailerons, there were a few years when Europe surged ahead of the US in aircraft
development ... a generous gift from our attorney friends to our foreign competitors. That brief period is well
represented at Krakow.
It was my good fortune to arrive at the museum on some sort of a national day. The big hangar was set up to
host artwork, costumed folk dancing, and verbal essays, all by children. After that, a military band consisting
of about 80 members presented a wide ranging concert. These guys (no women) were hot. As the score
emphasized different instruments, the director would have that section take center stage. It is really something
to hear five French horns in perfect harmony with all others playing behind them.
With reservations re-confirmed, I must leave the hotel at 2:00 AM tomorrow (Friday) to catch an early flight to
Amsterdam and home.
Good on ya,
Mike
Oh, my ways are strange ways and new ways and old ways,
And deep ways and steep ways and high ways and low,
I'm at home and at ease on a track that I know not,
And restless and lost on a road that I know.
--Henry Lawson, Australian poet.
Note to John Moses: Enclosed below is some local color bicycle material that may or may not be suitable for
publication in The Pioneer Press. Feel free to publish and edit all or any part of it. MJF
Good times for "bikies"!
It was just after the turn of the 20th century. Talkeetna had a great bike shop with a Specialized Cycles
dealership. The Alaskan economy was rocking. Permanent Fund dividend checks were out. The bike shop
had a brand new "double squishy" (front and rear suspension) high end Specialized Rockhopper bike on display.
Few of us had ever seen such an amazing machine. It featured gnarly tires, a computer-designed 5 link rear
shock system, and 27 speeds. This baby could summit Denali!
My young friend was in love. Dividend check in hand, he made the biggest buy of his life. It served him well,
seeing him through most of his high school years and saving his mom lots of gas money. But in so doing, it
was damaged beyond practical repair. This was a sophisticated, highly evolved bicycle, requiring frequent
adjustments, parts replacement, lubrication, and tender, loving care. High school students participating in
sports, academics, music, part time jobs, and the social scene don't have much time for wrenching on their
bikes.
The once proud Rockhopper became a cadaver and was consigned to Mike's iron pile. Its frame, seat post,
and crankset were broken. Its tires, brakes, chain, pedals and cogs were completely worn out or missing. Its
wheels were loose and wobbly. Dead on arrival was the sad verdict. It stayed that way for quite awhile.
Then Mike got an aluminum welder and started practicing this difficult art. His friends, Rob and Harold,
provided advice and guidance. The early results were pathetic, but gradually improved. Then one day, Mike
took the bike frame in and started welding it back together. The results were encouraging. H'mmmm, it sure
would be fun to ride this great bike again! Many hours of work and hundreds of $ in parts later, it is back on
the road, but still needs more upgrades before tackling Talkeetna's renowned X-Y Lakes singletrack trail.
The old Rockhopper tracks straight and true. It rides over river gravel bar boulders as though they were
pebbles. It is, once again, a good ride. Sometimes it is good to take on projects that make little economic
sense just to remind ourselves that the almighty dollar should play only a minor role in our lives. If everything
hinged on money with high wages and no volunteerism, we would not have the pleasures of Denali Drama, the
new Wildwood Park for children, drag racing at Alaska Raceway Park, the Sunshine Food Bank, our system
of non-motorized wilderness trails, the Free Box program, and the Oossic Classic ski race. Many other cultural
and sports pursuits would go away without supporters who work with little or no compensation. Be kind to
volunteers.
I think Talkeetna is wide open for a combined bicycle, ski, and sporting goods shop. One would hope that a
local family with a bright, mechanically talented kid could budget $2800.00 for tuition at one of the nation's two
bike technician schools. Females seem to be particularly adept at bike technology, perhaps because of their
small, skilled hands and quick minds. One of the top biketechs at Slickrock, Utah is a woman. She charges
$60.00 per Hr. and folks are happy to pay it. A good Talkeetna location would be anywhere along our world
class 14.3 mile non-motorized trail. It's worth looking into.
Mike Fisher
"Refrain from throwing your bicycle in public. It shows poor upbringing."
-- Mountain-biking pioneer Jacquie Phelan
August to forward to Jean Armstrong, my mother-in-law, who always enjoyed his visits, and in case there was
anything I wanted to run in the paper. Jeano always enjoyed hearing his tales of biking through Poland.
I wanted to run all of his notes to friends and family in the paper, but settled on his column at the end about
biking's heyday in Talkeetna. The last time we talked -- a few months ago at the Talkeetna Roadhouse -- I told
him I hoped we could work these into a column for a winter edition. That never happened.
Mike passed away Feb. 8, 2009 from cancer. We will miss the future columns he was going to write on biking
in Talkeetna and elsewhere, but we're happy to have the one he did write, and these writings about his travels.
We'll miss you at Jeano's annual birthday party, Mike. Thanks for sharing with me your knowledge of local
history and things that happened in our cabin, and for sharing your travel experiences with all of us.
John R. Moses, Publisher
Alaska Pioneer Press
RETURN TO POLAND: OCT 4-06
Gentlemen:
I am the white bearded American who arrived at your offices in the spring of 2000, riding a bicycle. You
made me welcome and showed me several current projects as well as some of your history. This was an
experience more Americans should enjoy and I wish to thank you for it.
I would have liked to spend more time in Mielec, but had to leave early for airline connections in
Budapest. I will be returning to Warsaw on October 10 and departing from Warsaw about a month later. This
schedule will allow me more time in Poland to renew old friendships and enjoy your beautiful country at harvest
season.
The Polish Mountaineering Expedition to Mount McKinley arrived in my town, Talkeetna, Alaska, in the
spring of 1987. I was working as a pilot for a small air service flying into the Alaska Range, and met the four
member Klub Wysokogorski climbing team when they were camped near our airport, waiting for weather.
These men were mostly from Gdansk and about the same age as Lech Walesa. Perhaps they knew him as a
young man.
Your aircraft are flown and respected all over the world, but we don't see many of them in the United
States. That is because of trade and regulatory restrictions. There has recently been some easing of these
restrictions as they apply to very light airplanes. Perhaps some good will come of it.
If you ever need a friend in Alaska, be sure to give me a call at (907) 733-2356.
Wishing you all the best,
Michael J. Fisher
Hello Michael
This is Wit. How are you doing? We met in Mielec during your first trip to Poland of 2000. I remember you
and your incredible bicycle (rover) which drove you around the Poland, Lithuania and Czech Republic. If you
will be in Poland I would like to meet you again . So I invite you to visit the Mielec to see PZL Mielec aircraft
facility. It will be my pleasure to meet with you and talk about aviation experience.
Best regards
Wit Blaszczak
A FINE AUTUMN DAY IN WARSAW, POLAND: OCT 12-06
Dear Family and Friends,
I really like this place. The people are friendly in the same way as Alaskans. There are so many interesting
sights and sounds and things to eat. Have you ever enjoyed chlodnik --- a cold soup made with sour milk and
grated, raw beet root and dill?
I took digital pictures of some incredible graffiti, freshly painted on the circular wall of a large sports coliseum.
--- Stark, powerful art. You don't need to read Polish or have a degree in political science to understand it.
The current leadership here is right wing. Half the citizens love it and the other half want it out. Remind you of
anything going on in your country? Twenty thousand demonstrators hit the streets of Warsaw last weekend.
The leaves are still bright green, with just a trace of color. Every school yard is full of kids kicking and butting
soccer balls around. --- Great exercise and lots of fun. The children all look happy and healthy, even in the
poor neighborhoods. It's harvest time and the street markets are overflowing with wonderful vegetable's,
fruits, and exotics seldom seen in Alaska. Big fat chestnut's are on the ground under the tree at my hotel's front
porch --- wish I knew how to prepare them.
My niece, Cassidy, this year's Central Michigan College graduate with a degree in hospitality, is working at a big
hotel in London, England. I picture her dicing it out with the other young tigers and blackbelts, while having
almost too much fun in pursuit of earning her credentials. We should get together and compare observations.
Cassidy gave me an enamel emblem from a London Harley Davidson dealer as a memento of her first trip to
England. I used it as a mojo on my travels in China. The mojo this time is a sterling pin from Holly, attached to
a saddlebag. It's always good to have a mojo.
I'm going to hang around town for a few days, then head out, so long as the weather holds. Enclosed above is
a note from an old friend. These folks build aircraft of several types --- lots of them --- for many nations.
They seem to have a feel for it. Aviation is a universal language --- in common with bicycles.
Wishing you all the best.
Mike
FURTHER WANDERINGS IN POLAND: OCTOBER 24-06
Dear Family and Friends,
The weather gods have smiled on me, except for a little rain and one 20 degree F hard frost. --- Not much fun
stowing an ice covered tent. I'm nearing Krakow ---always an exciting place. There are many English speakers
around the university, and they all know where things are happening.
A common morning sight is children waiting for their school bus and running to snatch an apple from a horse
pulled wagon, filled to overflowing. Alaska kids would never do a thing like that ---- unless they got a chance.
A few old friends have questioned why I do these wanderings. I guess the short answer is: because I can. The
spirit that drives us is nicely summed up In the movie/CD: "The Worlds Fastest Indian." I recommend it.
Best wishes to all.
Mike
HANGING OUT WITH A BUNCH OF HIGH LIVING AUSSIES AND SCOTS AT MAMA'S HOSTEL IN
KRAKOW: OCT 26-06
Dear Family and Friends,
It's good to be with some English speakers again. These are the kind of educated, worldly rovers that flood
into Talkeetna every spring to take the seasonal jobs that support their travel/adventure addictions.
The region of steep ridges and fertile valleys that I zigzagged through to get here is known as Motopolska. It is
the heartland of tiny villages, farms; and regional museums of agriculture, metallurgy, and wars seldom seen by
tourists, except from the windows of a speeding train.
Abandoned narrow-gage rail crossings are everywhere. Massive trucks with names like MAN, Peugeot,
Volvo, and Tatra have pounded the county's ancient, narrow, and fragile road system to hell. In many
stretches, all you can do is get off the bike and walk. This is yet another example of how too rapid and greedy
resource extraction has produced unintended side effects. Talkeetnans have seen this in our own back yard.
Much of this damage has happened since I was last here in 2000. The efficient farm to market rail system
served the country well till it was outgrown. It took big trucks to deliver timber and other resources to Western
Europe. Speeds are necessarily low (about 43 MPH) and drivers generally considerate. Blood Alcohol limit is
0.02% --- one fourth of the limit for driving in Alaska. Still, I can no longer say that Poland is the bike friendly
place it once was. It will get better as I move away from the major centers and toward the Carpathian
mountains.
As they say in Australia: Good on Ya,
Mike
VIOLIN CONCERTS IN THE COOLNESS OF THE EVENING: OCT 30-06
Dear Family and Friends,
Krakow's night scene is an exciting one. Attractive, high-energy people from all over the world converge here.
A still beautiful older woman plays the violin just outside my hostel door every night. In my estimation, she
could easily qualify for principal chair for any major North American symphony. There is a magnetism about
her that draws and holds a throng of admirers. I hope the few zlotys tossed into the instrument's case are not
her only reward.
The cafes, pubs, and bistros are filled with mostly unaccompanied young people looking to make connections
with someone from another land. There is nothing sinister about this. It just opens up new avenues of
possibilities. How nice to know someone from London, Sydney, or San Francisco who could offer a place to
stay and possible "off the books" employment if you are an educated Pole working for a third of the North
American or West European pay scale.
I've met many Aussies, Scots, and English, along with a few North Americans. The Scots, with their extreme
regional burr, are harder to understand than the English speaking Poles.
If you are a good looking, free spending gentleman from Australia, Canada, the US, or the UK; Polish women
might offer you their company as a guide to the local hotspots. Mostly, they are restless young party animals
looking for some innocent fun. This is still a very Catholic country. I'm sure niece, Cassidy, has observed
similar happenings at her London post. On the rare occasions when a lady might direct her attention my way, in
the hope that a worldly American man might open some doors for her, I always follow the advice my mother
gave when I was five: DON'T pick that up! You don't know where it's been.
Good on ya,
Mike
SOME SCENES FROM THE HEARTLAND: NOV 7-06
Dear Family and Friends,
Three inches of freshly fallen snow and a temperature of minus three degrees Centigrade are conditions one
never wants to encounter when opening one's tent to an early Polish dawn. A gracious, young, English
speaking Swedish woman I met in Krakow told me that a big snowstorm was forecast to sweep Central Europe
in a couple days. I didn't take her seriously --- big mistake! With some hardship, I was able to break camp and
ride through slush and vehicle spray to a fair sized town with a hotel. That was the morning of November 2.
As of this November 6 writing, it has been steadily snowing or raining ever since.
When you come to a fork in the road, take it! Following this principle of navigation through the narrow
country lanes of Poland's rural heartland will sometimes bring you to a dead end. One such lead terminated at a
hilltop cemetery consisting of about ten acres of massive, imposing, elevated sarcophagus-like tombs. There
was more polished, sculptured and engraved marble than you could ever imagine. One can only wonder if the
monetary resources devoted to establishing these shrines and monuments might have been better spent
educating a grandchild or financing a farm. Perhaps, when a nation has lost so many through wars and political
assassinations, there is a heightened need for the survivors to proclaim: "I was here; my life meant something;
I succeeded, and I never want anyone to forget it!"
A school bus has just delivered the last few of its small passengers to waiting mothers who will walk them to
their homes in a tiny rural settlement. I am following it along a narrow country lane when it suddenly stops,
blocking the way. As I approach from a few hundred feet I see the reason why. A deer is thrashing wildly,
trying to get up and run on broken legs. Luckily, there are no children present to witness this sad event. The
creature is only twenty feet away; its agony and panic plead for an ending. The bus driver is talking on his cell
phone, but help is many miles away. In Alaska I would use a lug wrench to end the animal's suffering. On a
bike in Poland, I take a picture and press on ---- a stark reminder that any of us could be roadkill at any time.
I dismantled my bike and took a bleak and stormy five hour bus ride back to Warsaw. The skill and panache of
the driver in navigating the slippery, twisty narrow roads leading back to the capital was truly to be admired.
His rosary, suspended from the rear view mirror, swung wildly back and forth the entire ride. In some parts of
the US such a public transit display of strong faith might be banned as offensive to non-believers. Holly's little
silver chipmunk sewed to a bicycle pannier; a rosary hanging from a bus mirror; --- these icons may possess
more power than one might think. They keep us alert and ever mindful that we must do our part.
On a happier note, gleaning time is peaking. Unlike me, the farmers know that big weather is coming and are
rushing to complete the harvest. Wonderful, fresh vegetables all along the roads where they have fallen from
over-loaded wagons --- there for the taking. Cabbages are stacked in windrows twelve feet high and hundreds
of feet long. Roadside stands offer gunny sacks full of beets, onions, parsnips, carrots,and potatoes. Fresh,
pre-sliced cabbage is sold in giant plastic sacks for people to make their own sauerkraut. Crisp, tart, sweet and
flavorful apples are everywhere. In the US, such fruit would be called heirloom varieties, and available only to a
fortunate few who live near the source. The rest of us must content ourselves with the long keeping, tough
skinned, insipid tasting supermarket varieties.
I'm quite happy to experience the sights and sounds of Warsaw till my flight leaves on November 10. There is
energy and excitement here.
Well, as they say in southern Australia: Good on y'all,
Mike
FLYING HOME: NOV 9-06
Dear Family and Friends,
All Saint's Day on November first is a major holiday in Poland. Every village's cemetery has large crowds of
somber, well dressed faithful of all ages. There are incredible displays of fresh cut flowers. The entire country
shuts down, except for the flower and candle shops. Travelers without food reserves could starve. My
Swedish friend from the hostel tried to alert me to this. Again, her good counsel fell on insensitive ears and
again, it cost me. The belief that much conventional wisdom is flawed has often served me well. However,
there is price to be paid for not marching to the standard drumbeat. On occasion it is correct, and not
listening exacts a toll.
The Polish National Aviation Museum at Krakow is one of the top ten in Europe. Eastern Bloc primary and
advanced training aircraft from cold war era are especially well represented. Their historic engine collection is
one of the best I've seen. In the early twentieth century, while the Wright brothers and the Loenings were
fighting over the use of ailerons, there were a few years when Europe surged ahead of the US in aircraft
development ... a generous gift from our attorney friends to our foreign competitors. That brief period is well
represented at Krakow.
It was my good fortune to arrive at the museum on some sort of a national day. The big hangar was set up to
host artwork, costumed folk dancing, and verbal essays, all by children. After that, a military band consisting
of about 80 members presented a wide ranging concert. These guys (no women) were hot. As the score
emphasized different instruments, the director would have that section take center stage. It is really something
to hear five French horns in perfect harmony with all others playing behind them.
With reservations re-confirmed, I must leave the hotel at 2:00 AM tomorrow (Friday) to catch an early flight to
Amsterdam and home.
Good on ya,
Mike
Oh, my ways are strange ways and new ways and old ways,
And deep ways and steep ways and high ways and low,
I'm at home and at ease on a track that I know not,
And restless and lost on a road that I know.
--Henry Lawson, Australian poet.
Note to John Moses: Enclosed below is some local color bicycle material that may or may not be suitable for
publication in The Pioneer Press. Feel free to publish and edit all or any part of it. MJF
Good times for "bikies"!
It was just after the turn of the 20th century. Talkeetna had a great bike shop with a Specialized Cycles
dealership. The Alaskan economy was rocking. Permanent Fund dividend checks were out. The bike shop
had a brand new "double squishy" (front and rear suspension) high end Specialized Rockhopper bike on display.
Few of us had ever seen such an amazing machine. It featured gnarly tires, a computer-designed 5 link rear
shock system, and 27 speeds. This baby could summit Denali!
My young friend was in love. Dividend check in hand, he made the biggest buy of his life. It served him well,
seeing him through most of his high school years and saving his mom lots of gas money. But in so doing, it
was damaged beyond practical repair. This was a sophisticated, highly evolved bicycle, requiring frequent
adjustments, parts replacement, lubrication, and tender, loving care. High school students participating in
sports, academics, music, part time jobs, and the social scene don't have much time for wrenching on their
bikes.
The once proud Rockhopper became a cadaver and was consigned to Mike's iron pile. Its frame, seat post,
and crankset were broken. Its tires, brakes, chain, pedals and cogs were completely worn out or missing. Its
wheels were loose and wobbly. Dead on arrival was the sad verdict. It stayed that way for quite awhile.
Then Mike got an aluminum welder and started practicing this difficult art. His friends, Rob and Harold,
provided advice and guidance. The early results were pathetic, but gradually improved. Then one day, Mike
took the bike frame in and started welding it back together. The results were encouraging. H'mmmm, it sure
would be fun to ride this great bike again! Many hours of work and hundreds of $ in parts later, it is back on
the road, but still needs more upgrades before tackling Talkeetna's renowned X-Y Lakes singletrack trail.
The old Rockhopper tracks straight and true. It rides over river gravel bar boulders as though they were
pebbles. It is, once again, a good ride. Sometimes it is good to take on projects that make little economic
sense just to remind ourselves that the almighty dollar should play only a minor role in our lives. If everything
hinged on money with high wages and no volunteerism, we would not have the pleasures of Denali Drama, the
new Wildwood Park for children, drag racing at Alaska Raceway Park, the Sunshine Food Bank, our system
of non-motorized wilderness trails, the Free Box program, and the Oossic Classic ski race. Many other cultural
and sports pursuits would go away without supporters who work with little or no compensation. Be kind to
volunteers.
I think Talkeetna is wide open for a combined bicycle, ski, and sporting goods shop. One would hope that a
local family with a bright, mechanically talented kid could budget $2800.00 for tuition at one of the nation's two
bike technician schools. Females seem to be particularly adept at bike technology, perhaps because of their
small, skilled hands and quick minds. One of the top biketechs at Slickrock, Utah is a woman. She charges
$60.00 per Hr. and folks are happy to pay it. A good Talkeetna location would be anywhere along our world
class 14.3 mile non-motorized trail. It's worth looking into.
Mike Fisher
"Refrain from throwing your bicycle in public. It shows poor upbringing."
-- Mountain-biking pioneer Jacquie Phelan