Alaska Expedition 2

First entry complete, longer/2nd pass for orientation… complete; there’s only the wonders-phase left!

 

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Table of Contents:

1. Introduction
2. Overall/Initial (Images Begin)
3. Yukon Border to Tok
4. Gakona; Passing the Old HAARP
5. The Pioneer-town called Glacier View
6. Perhaps the Dozenth Pyramid-shaped Mountain
7. Through the Farmland Countryside
8. Fishing the Coastal Rivers
9. Building a F.O.B.
10. Monster Trucks
11. 2024 February:  Notes About the 2018 Volunteer Work

 

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Introduction:

My second time exploring this state (after just flying in to make sure I’d made it to all 50 states) started with a punch in west from the Canadian border.  (The first time had been a punch north from the south; the Kenai all the way up past Fairbanks into the Arctic Circle.)  I’d already toured the HAARP facility on the previous expedition, so I blew right past it this time, aiming to just get settled back in.  Another 1,000 miles were charted and checked, giving me plenty of experience dealing with the unbelievably ice-damaged highway extending out into the Yukon Territory.

 

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Overall/Initial:

Alaska is a nearly-entirely untouched gorgeous vast wilderness, the kind that ends up in the best paintings and motion pictures.  It makes even spacious and scenic Montana seem relatively small and overcrowded.  I am always glad when I get to explore and relax out in places like these.

 

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Yukon Border to Tok:

It’s just such a shame that all the people I met during this first drive through this part of Canada were so rude/shitty.  If they’d been as lovely as the scenic landscapes way out/up here, I would have started great business and personal relationships with them all.  Still, I am happy that I was able to pass by them during this 2nd drive of mine through part of their nation; during my first drive into Canada, I only made it across the border enough to end up in a bar in Vancouver.  Gross.

 

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Gakona; Passing the Old HAARP:

Staff/researchers here had pretended to converse at the cafeteria table during the ‘open house’ (tour) I went to (during my first trip to/through this state), and it was so annoyingly/blatantly scripted (but it just made me chuckle quietly as I got my paper plate of snacks and walked back out to continue the tour, and I accepted what they were indirectly communicating to me; don’t bother asking any interesting or conspiracy-based questions, as they already have a script someone prepared and probably requires them to recite to anyone who asks), so I knew there was little point in returning to try and converse with them myself.  I’d already walked the grounds and gone inside some of the shipping-container facilities/devices, as well as the main buildings (where the computers and vehicles were).  I suppose that’s all I need for now.

1. first pass / round 1:  dealing with humans at a/the place
2. 2nd pass / round 2:  neutral; just passing by, already now decently-introduced to its features/inside
3. 3rd pass / round 3:  having my own even-better version of the thing

 

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The Pioneer-town called Glacier View:

The breeze in places with true (big) glaciers like here is incredibly nice-smelling, even compared to the amazingly-pristine air in most parts of Montana.  I can hardly wait to return and get much closer.  Maybe during upcoming trips back to this part of the world, I’ll even get to touch or walk on some of the glaciers.

 

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Perhaps the Dozenth Pyramid-shaped Mountain:

After learning about the ones in Bosnia and elsewhere, and how possibly every building on Earth was once a giant building that got ruined by earthquakes and pole-shift tidal-waves / mud-floods, I would love the opportunity to return to these with high-tech’ that will allow me to scan down deep beneath the dirt-buildup exterior/layer.

 

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Through the Farmland Countryside:

It was so nice getting to see all this stuff again, this time in my own vehicle, I no longer worried about keeping a rental in pristine condition.  I also was able to set any schedule/pace at all now; quite the upgrade.  I only wish I’d been able to analyze and learn from, or even somehow help with, more than just one farm.

 

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Fishing the Coastal Rivers:

I learned firsthand that if you linger on some rivers too long, the bore-tide can significantly raise or lower the water surface, and that can leave you stranded on a shrinking island or sandbar, or just struggling to climb up a steep bank back to dry/high ground.  There may also be many other people doing their best to catch as many fish as they are legally (or not) allowed to along the same stretch of the river you are on; there aren’t many towns in this state, they are clustered together, and everyone comes outside at the same time; during the few pleasant/non-frozen months.  Schedule your scouting accordingly.

 

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Building a F.O.B.:

More accurately, this was doing the kind of upgrades to this house plot that might also be done to a basic/small Forward Operating Base; adding/adjusting walkways, clearing paths, completing a perimeter (multiple barriers/fences, etc.), keeping an eye out for wildlife (such as bears and moose), learning about local edible plants, meeting locals/neighbors, noting outside cameras and lights (and checking their functions), prep’ to improve the driveway/parking, ‘satellite’ patrols/scouting to better-orient to the surroundings, etc..

 

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Monster Trucks:

Off-roading vehicles are a lot more common up here, as the terrain is a lot more challenging, not to mention the fact that there is basically only one highway (due to how expensive it is to build any permanent structures at all on permafrost), and it barely connects anything in this gigantic state.  Many vehicles are made specifically for fording (crossing) shallow rivers and flood plains.  Most of Alaska, if you didn’t know, is marsh/swamp –and be VERY prepared for its horrible swarms of mosquitos, if you go into those regions during the months when they are out.

 

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2024 February:  Notes About the 2018 Volunteer Work

It has been 5.5 years since I was there; I was there during the last 2 seasons of 2018, and it is now the first seasons of 2024 as I write this addition to this webpage.  I was so busy ever since, I didn’t even have time to find my original journal entries and transfer them to this webpage.  Wow…

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I flew into Alaska the first time. This time (Summer through Autumn of 2018), knowing I would be exploring much longer, and for an unknown amount of time, I drove in –all the way from southern California, a road-trip which took half a month, one-way.

I was extremely shocked and disappointed at the rudeness and stupidity of the border-checkpoint personnel (on Canada’s side when entering (for making me wait ~4 hours, scrutinizing me about things ~20 years in the past, and which had zero evidence, they ignoring my honesty, sobriety, peacefulness, goal, vibe, exemplary service, academic record, volunteer work, life’s work, openness, you name it, they as brainless and dark/evil as it gets, as if hypnotized by their computer screens or whatever else had corrupted these poor lost souls), and again on their side (that female officer who kept cutting me off, retardedly assuming I was lying to her) when exiting into Alaska), but at least I had seen their true colors and scouted another route to this northernmost claim of the late USA.  I certainly will never travel that route again; no good man should be spoken to the way they spoke to me.
Also, of course, there were the potholes from hell, caused by ice buildup, expansion, etc., gradually working growing craters into the only paved road (2-lane 2-way “highway”) way out here, year after year.  It looked like they were entirely neglected, which surprised me, given that, again, this is the only way to drive in/out of either state/province.  There was even one section of this road/”highway” which looked so warped and cracked that I’d be surprised if it hadn’t resulted in driving accidents, maybe even fatalities.

Trying out meeting an old battalion fellow instead of just exploring solo like before, I found it is probably always better to explore solo, or at least to stop giving the moody ‘lapdogs of the nation’ these 2nd chances at being teammates.  He was tense, creepy, full of bizarre assumptions, inappropriately pressuring me to accept medical procedures I didn’t need, even after telling me the people he wanted me to get medical treatment from had mistakenly given him chemotherapy for cancer he didn’t have.  Yes, you read that correctly; he really attempted that mindless insane crap.  He also leant me a book to read (or pretended to for some reason), but then acted like I was stealing it, wanting it back before I had a chance to read the thing at all.  …Why?

He let his trained attack dog nearly bite my hand off, waiting until after I offered to pet it… to tell me he had trained it to bite off anything that moved its way toward/through/near the stairs to his house.  Why the hell would you risk a fellow veteran getting amputated by a mad beast?  I still am struggling to believe how evil that little game/prank of his was.

Then his wife started neurotically/obsessively filling their house with chemicals, thinking it made the place clean, and I mean after every single use of their shower.  It was like the bleach equivalent of hotboxing.  I couldn’t even briefly use their spare guest room, it stank so badly.

Offering to help him work on his new fence before I had to head out, I discovered he was in a lawsuit war with his neighbor, and building that fence to block the view of his neighbor.  Accidentally touching the part of his fence he had electrified, I learned what that feels like.  Not all that bad, but certainly a decent way to deter humans and other animals.

The fugliest glutton blob-monster degenerate I have seen in a long time –and I am talking Jabba the Hutt here, and that is NO exaggeration– managed to “walk” out of the neighboring house on the other side of his property, and he had the disgusting audacity to insist I go over to meet that thing.  He wasn’t even friends with it; there was no reason at all to introduce us.  All I can conclude is that he was completely insane, and hellbent on doing everything offensive and wrong with what was left of his life.

Still, the experience showed me many more evil humans and fallen communities to avoid next time (and these 2nd trips to places always were foreseen and intended to be about further orientation; zeroing in, making ideal round-three trips that much better).
It also got me to that grocery store where the almost-hot chick let me hear her voice and kneeled before me. If only I hadn’t been so turned off by the evil gross humans moments earlier, and so mistreated by many others before; I would have trusted the encounter/offering enough to give her a chance, even though it was another –like the scripted HAARP-employee “conversations”– staged event trying to lure me off my normal expedition/orienting route/system.
Anyway, now I know to just scan for and capture or evacuate/liberate such slam-pieces; they apparently lack any social skills or normalcy, just like everywhere else I’d been.  I know they are out here, where to find them, how they behave, and so on.  I just don’t yet know how many layers there are in “the telephone game” between who was listening to what I said when near my phone on the drive up here… and when someone tells them where I am heading, thus enabling/directing/guiding them to catch sight of me there.

I searched for decent rentals like every time I stop and try to stay awhile.  No luck, though.  Oh, well; it wasn’t time.

I called the universities and all farming organizations, telling them of my education (agriculture training and certifications, etc.) and relevant experience (helping start and improve other farms, and designing ones of my own), but they had money issues or were shutting down (probably due to oil- and/or shipping-based politics; people are making a TON of money keeping supply chains out here LONG and problematic; they don’t want things like locals farming resulting in more people being able to save money and sustain/feed themselves).  At least I maintained my consistency with finding meaningful work that utilizes my gifts/skills.  Always have, always will.

Eventually a “lead” was suggested, and it seemed like a good opportunity to help another veteran who was actually doing something decent with his life.
Hoping for the best, I drove several hours and off the roads (onto gravel trails and dirt paths, even) until I found the place (as off-grid as it gets; connected to no city services at all), introduced myself, and asked how I could help.
I thought things were going well after that, as I was getting many of their projects/tasking completed;

• I managed a 30-acre 28-greenhouse 400-animal operation, doing work including:
• heavy machinery operation,
• property-line marking,
• fencing,
• pulling and sorting lumber from under an awning,
• greenhouse tarp/plastic donning and doffing,
• planting,
• irrigation-system installation,
• maintenance,
• weeding by hand,
• weed-whacking/edging,
• mowing,
• setting up an outdoor shooting range,
• tilling,
• adding to the compost pile/s,
• ground burning (to combat slugs),
• driving feed to the pigs enclosure,
• feeding several types of animals,
• feed growing in a retrofitted shipping container,
• learning how to milk goats,
• learning how to protect pigs giving birth (so hungry other pigs don’t eat their newborns),
• egg collecting,
• diesel-generator operation,
• solar-panel adjustments,
• lumberjack work,
• disassembly of old/rotting wooden structures,
• site cleanup,
• storage-unit organization,
• inventorying dry-goods and other supplies,
• restocking medical supplies,
• repairing/servicing their firearms,
• setting pest traps,
• chopping lots of firewood (piles and piles of it),
• sorting used tire stacks,
• helping build from scrap a treehouse-like mini-fort for the kids,
• loading and unloading a massive cylinder of hay,
• carrying and towing picnic tables in and out of storage,
• emptying the near-house small greenhouse of random items,
• adding gravel to pot-holes/dips,
• cleaning and removing slugs from harvests,
• hauling plywood panels from the main building to greenhouse ends,
• removing and replacing rotted greenhouse floorboards,
• and supervising/babysitting the farm families’ children on the farm, at the bus stop, and at the local beaches during days off.
• They produced (to a small degree; more on this in a moment) carrots, kale (the only crop they actually had a marketable amount of), lettuce, potatoes, Swiss chard, and fruit from a variety of trees being tested in that soil and climate zone.
• I introduced the owner and farmhands to all of the high-tech’ sustainable farming technologies I studied and am certified in.  (If only they’d listened.)
• I damn-near upgraded his nearly-useless / neglected / mismanaged plot of land to a FOB; I restored easy driving and walking access to all his greenhouses and perimeter, and did so much work on my own, only stopping to get a bite to eat when hungry, and then to clean up before retiring for each evening, back at it again every morning before dawn.
• An offer was made to have me work at this farm full-time for a decade or longer; $50K/year, starting.  (Trouble was, with such a failed “farm”, there was no way that much money could even be made, let alone paid to a single employee, even a manager –and this was one of the first and soon many examples of how the owner was prone to chronic exaggeration (IOW:  extreme dishonesty) and bluffing.)
• This job was part of my transition from small farms in Montana to medium farms along the Arctic, which will be followed by large farms in polar and other remote regions.

Also, I was invited to go to the beach with them and then, another day, swimming. Both times, members of two families were there, parents and all. Both times, we had a normal day off / hangout, everything seeming to go just fine.  I thought nothing of it, happy to have been included, and drove back to the horrible abandoned school bus they had volunteers live in, not at all expecting the interrogation and further abuses that were about to tidal-wave my way.
The owner was away at this time, and asked me over the phone if I had spent the night with one of the families at the hotel they had to resort to for their once-a-week showers since his side of the “farm” kept turning off their water. I was so blown away with how messed up and random and rude that pointed question of his was; he was asking if I had slept with four people, including children. To this day, I am still in shock at that insanity. I can only imagine how badly he treated -and terrified- those before me –and what they, and his wife, had to endure over the months and years when they didn’t have means like I did to get away.

So then that foulmouthed and darkness-minded owner returned (from being away those first months, our conversations by phone until now) and, sure enough, perfectly matching his horrible comments over the phone, had the worst vibe ever.
More people there started opening up to me, telling me about many bad things, such as that 68 other volunteers had been scared away (thus all those bullet-notes of work subsets I’d been taking care of for them).
I soon learned that it wasn’t a real farm at all; it was a scam to ‘farm’ grant-money (which the state made available to people who seemed like they were actually farming) being used by an extreme doomsday-prepper who thought everyone was an evil enemy.
All but 1 of 28 greenhouses were unproductive and overgrown (inside and out; most full of weeds and useless discarded lumber scraps, thus all those bullet-notes of work subsets I’d been taking care of for them). Most hadn’t even been built correctly; they were too low to get vehicles in/through (something necessary to till them), and not on terrain set level / to grade, thus there was flooding and freezing puddles to deal with, among many other things that drastically limited what and where they could grow, and drastically increased how much work was required every non-frozen year-portion to reset them.
The money desperately needed to get things on track got wasted on senseless things such as concrete for bunkers.
I did my best to keep helping as I watched critical funding blown BY THE THOUSANDS, beginning to see why it had been a decade since this “farm” started… and still no profit, no regular employees, no lines of customers, nothing.  No one came out here –ever– except those who had to live in the place, and 1 car which had apparently taken a wrong turn.
I was shown that even their cistern was in a terrible condition, also having been installed incorrectly; they had no clean/safe water for cooking or washing.  (Why the heck didn’t they take the few extra minutes it would have taken to install their cistern and green houses correctly in the first place?  Had he arrogantly and creepily scared away the contractors back then, too?)

After organizing a ‘landfill’ (terrible mess) of a shipping container and house-sized garage (completely filled with piles of stuff, no one having maintained it at all, and both spaces reminding me of the fake mother I had to deal with the hoarding of –years before), I took inventory and prepared notes for a first discussion (in person; now that the owner was back from his failed work offshore –no doubt due to his horrible treatment of everyone around out there, just like I was about to witness back here).
I would have made do with the unlivable spider-infested abandoned bus they had volunteers stay in, even though it had no electricity, insulation, plumbing, or water, (and its door didn’t even work/lock properly) and even though it required hours of chopping and carrying firewood to keep warm enough to not freeze to death in, and even though the farm kids noisily climbed up and jumped on it randomly during some days, but that meeting-discussion with him (the owner) was set in a bar of all places (the owner’s bizarre idea), and was nothing but creepy implied threats.  (He didn’t ask a single question about the notebook full of notes I’d taken during my months there while he was away; he clearly didn’t care about farming or his best worker/s at all.)  As the minutes dragged into hours, and he left a dagger on the table pointed at me, and the random tall half-Native biker guy he had for no apparent reason invited to join us also attempted to converse with this hyper-intense fake-farmer creep, it became clear as day to me that I would have to leave within days.
At least I’d been able to work for months without having to be around that psycho.  At least I’d gotten tons more hands-on cold-climate farm-hand and management experience.  At least I had tons of very useful notes I could use for my own farm one day.  That was enough for now.

That biker, by the way, tried the same tactic of blaming others while trying to indirectly/slyly discourage me from exploring farther; he claimed he was a half-Native who had lived there for 20 years and still was called an outsider by the tribe he lived amongst (just like how the fake-farm owner blamed the death of one of his son’s for his marriage being “on the rocks”). Wrong, buddy; you, like the fake farmer and immoral slanderer sitting next to you, are not accepted because you are pure evil, not because the Natives are xenophobic against you. Also, if the Natives hadn’t accepted me already, they wouldn’t have sent two of their finest young ladies all the way to where I was helping farm… just so I would notice their good vibe, something you will never possess. Nice try, dumbass. I’ll be exploring the Alaskan wilderness, anyway (in spite of your pathetic blatant attempt at terrorizing me out of that decision/calling). Now go ride your shitty bike back to where the intelligent indigenous people are able to sense your evil just like I do. Dickhead.

It didn’t take long to notice that the owner imagined or pretended that the Russians, Natives, and all his help were all out to get him; he demonized and slandered and threatened everyone.  Everyone.  This guy accused entire races of indecency with their own children, you name it; as openly racist and slanderous as it gets.

One of his sons was no better, often bullying his siblings and even verbally disrespecting me to the worst degree.
“_ just wants to fuck everything,” was that lippy wayward boy’s go-to phrase; he said it about his own sister at the dinner table, then about me (when I was just standing there one evening after dinner, minding my own business, about to go to bed) and others, not caring how wrong or offensive he was, enjoying being rude, enjoying telling the worst of lies, slanderous to his core.
If anyone ever deserved to be bent over his father’s knee and spanked or belted, it was this kid.

The obvious truth was that I didn’t want to fuck anything, and if he had been sane or honest, he would have recognized that, but all he wanted was to try and pick fights, having no morals or life.
Every attempt to be civil to that kid was responded to with insults.
He was the spitting image of his father; primitive, stupid, brainwashed, hostile, destroying every last hope he had of ever earning anyone’s trust, let alone support or teamwork –for the humble little plot of land in the middle of nowhere which he somehow didn’t recognize was putting food in his own mouth; which he depended on –and which he and his family had, for a decade now, failed to keep in productive/lucrative/working order –even though there were a dozen of them living there (9 on their side of the farm, and 3 on the other/animals side).

I’m amazed no one has beaten that insanely-rude kid up.  He must pretend to have manners out in town.  …Maybe he is rude to the volunteers… just like his father always was… because his father is also rude to him, so his way of getting his father back… is alienating the volunteers just as much as his father does, ensuring his father’s “farm” never succeeds.  I don’t know, but I doubt it; I think he was just a moron who liked seeing what he could get away with.

Dumbfuck shit-talker loser of a son also made sure to tell me I wasn’t a good singer/band-member after insisting I sing something for them, even though I was clearly not putting any effort into showing my talents to such a complete evildoer ingrate braindead hater.  Yeah, man; I’m a terrible singer; that’s why I sang a concert at a symphony center.  I’m definitely a terrible band-member, too; that’s why half a dozen fellow Marines instantly agreed to join my barbershop quartet, then my garage band, then practice every week for months, and even provide free practice space for me in their homes.  No potential at all.

Also, some creep had showed up (shortly before the owner returned from being offshore) with the most suspicious of cover stories (claiming he’d flown from Hawaii, for no reason, with no money, to work on this random farm in the middle of nowhere, which wasn’t even advertising for help, and in a field/industry he had no background in), and almost immediately tried to pick a fight with me for no reason, even calling me a monster and saying I only help when I want to (um, yeah, except for months straight, the whole day through, without pay or compensation of any kind, even more than all the farm kids were working –combined), one of the dumbest things I have heard in a long time.  The look in his eyes was of pure excitement to be rude to me like that; he was practically drooling to bully people.  Bizarre.

So now there were at least three insane bullies on this farm (owner, one son, and fake-story “volunteer”), and it all made sense; this place had intentionally offended and scared away everyone.  It was even dividing itself; both mothers were spending more and more time avoiding the place, both soon to split.  I hope they made it.  Good god.

My help and work ethic meant nothing to those three.  Months of free hard labor and long hours for them, and all I got was bullying and threats.
Even having babysat the farm children and protected them when they walked miles between plots of land (imagine walking home in the Alaskan wilderness, no way any police or animal control or neighbors could ever get to you to help even if they wanted to), and otherwise doing nothing but volunteer work and book writing, I was still assumed to be a badguy.
They attempted to bribe me with a salary they had no way to pay me, and with booze and time at strip clubs that I kept making clear I had no interest in.
They didn’t like that I didn’t eat meat or smoke or drink alcohol.  That really baffled me.  I didn’t know how to respond to such madness.
I had to text and tell them to stop pressuring me to do all those unhealthy and immoral things.

One even attempted to get me to wipe out while ice-skating; the wannabe-bully son kept pestering me to skate far faster than anyone else, and I kept ignoring him, but he never let up, so I just stopped attempting to be civil and engaging with any of the family after that, as they kept interpreting normal interaction and manners as unacceptable attempts to “get with” them, which I also had zero interest in.
Why invite someone to outings, only to baselessly hyper-judge and try to hurt them?

I skated away and chatted with everyone in our group, helping one of his younger brothers skate without falling down. He (the older (2nd oldest)/punk/rude/bully brother) didn’t care until his sister –ALSO INNOCENTLY– skated over to me a couple times, or happened to be in the same general area of the small ice-skating rink as me. Then he immediately skated back, telling us to break it up, again as suggestive and inappropriate as ever.  Kid, nobody wants your damn sister.  Welcome to reality.  She’s all yours, you incestuous pedophile spaz.

When the family invited me ice-skating that time, again I was on my best behavior the whole time, just like always, being kind to everyone, just like always, and again that punk son was out to imply disgusting crap and pick a fight; even when I was just taking a break, sitting on a bench, not paying attention to anyone, he went straight back to me and wanted to strike up a conversation, saying he thought some other ice-skater there that day was cute or something. I thought maybe he was finally just making tolerable small-talk, and I was trying to be polite by saying “sure” or whatever, even though she was hideous; I didn’t want to be rude like he always was; I didn’t want to tell him to maybe raise his standards, or to talk about something more appropriate with someone (me) he barely knew.  I just wanted to politely end the conversation, hoping he would go back away to disrespect someone else like he always did (every single fucking day), no matter who he was around.
His response was to imply that I was a pedophile by saying, “Don’t you think she’s a little young?”
I couldn’t believe the level of rudeness and evil and stupidity of that kid; he actually thought he had ‘pulled a fast one’ on me, and that it was okay to speak to veterans and elders and volunteers that way.
He actually thought that someone is a pedophile when they pretend to agree with him when he says that someone is decent looking.
He really was as braindead and paranoid as his father.
He ignored all vibes, all signs, all hints, all evidence, and just powered through everything like a rapist.  I am pretty sure, if no one beats the hell out of him between back then and now, he’ll actually become a rapist; all the red-flags are there.

I gave him an unimpressed look, knowing there was nothing I could say which would be interpreted by his brainwashed superstitious peasant dumbass as anything other than the pedophilia only he (and perhaps his father) was guilty of.  He was determined to treat everyone around him as a pedophile.  He somehow lacked the ability to perceive or acknowledge the mountain of evidence to the contrary.
Even dismissively saying “sure, I guess, whatever” with the obvious tone of “no, she is really bad-looking, and I don’t know why you are talking to me”, and while I did my best to not even look in the general direction of the fuglies he was pointing out, got interpreted as “I want to fuck her like you always want to be with your underage sister.”
Even me not being interested in anyone at that farm at all, not even a little bit, got interpreted as “I want to fuck everyone.”
Even his sister not being interested in anyone other than for friendship, or for help with farm chores, got interpreted by him as “She just wants to fuck everyone.”
Retards like him are why I started referring to their default form of lying and slander as “polar-opposite lying”; nothing could be further from the truth than what shameful scum like him broken-record blast at every encounter.

Another from that “farm” even pretended to want to hang out one evening after we had wrapped up work for the day, only to be outrageously inappropriate with her own child (having her child naked on the floor of their shack when I arrived), trying to set me up or test me or something, thinking it made sense to do that to me even after I had kept to myself after every task, not bothering anyone, not interested in any of them at all, and even after I had gotten them and the others (whom I THOUGHT were decent folk) gift baskets before parting.  Talk about a ‘snake in the grass’.  My god.
Now I see why she was stuck there as long as she had been; she deserved that likewise-paranoid ‘snake in the grass’ owner.  They were practically made for each other.
She even had the extremely fucked-up and self-righteous audacity, when I held up a sheet of paper to block the view of her child, I trying to find polite words and calmness as I tried to get her to put an end to whatever the hell that was, to smile proudly, chin up, as she announced, revealing she had baited and tested me for god knows what dumbass reason, “Your heart is pure!”  –No shit, idiot, and YOURS sure isn’t.  Fucking murderer.  Fucking scammer.  Fucking child-corrupter.  Fucking retard ignoring all the signs.  How fucked up can people BE??

They even began religiously harassing me, crossing every last line there was; they asked inappropriate/unprofessional/prying questions about my faith, and then the owner pointedly accused me of not being religious at all, and of lying to him, when all I said was that I didn’t want to start going to church with him because the weekend was the only time I had time to work on my writing.  Why on Earth would you pressure someone to share personal and spiritual information about themselves, especially when you are DESPERATE for ANY help you can get AT ALL?  That’s as insane as pressuring people to reveal private medical information.

What I thought I was gonna hear from them was:

• “Welcome to our state.”
• “Thank you for coming all this way to help us.”
• “Thank you so much for all your hard work.”
• “Thank you for protecting our children.”
• “Thank you for babysitting.”
• “Thank you for making everyone feel included.”
• “That’s awesome that you are committed to a healthy diet.”
• “You’re so self-disciplined to spend your time exploring and writing.”
• “Wow; you have so many great ideas to fix this place, and you explain them so clearly.  Yes, let’s start applying your suggestions –since our ‘farm’ is an overgrown DISASTER which may as well be abandoned open wilderness right now.”
• “Of course after weekday work-hours is time to yourself. Spend it however you need. We’ll see you again Monday.”
• “Whenever your books are published, we’ll buy some to support you.  It’s the least we can do after all your great volunteer labor.” (The owner instead tried to ORDER me –THREE TIMES IN A ROW– to let him read my unpublished work.  I actually had to tell him, “No, I am going to wait until my books are published.” (before I let people read the material) THREE TIMES IN A ROW; in the SAME CONVERSATION, before he switched to creepily overenunciating, “You don’t want feeeedbaaaack???  Ohhhhhkaaayyyy-aaayyyyyy…”  Then he made a face which can only be described as the worst acting of all time.  I actually had to explain to him that you don’t get to order strangers to hand over their years of hard work without pay; authors publish their writing, and only then do people read copies of it and give feedback.  That was a new concept to this guy.  He didn’t know how books or purchasing worked.  He actually thought he could ignore people’s schedules and boss them around as if he was their superior officer in the military.)
  I get it, asshole; you had a ton of horrible things to stay, prepared well in advance of my arrival, having already been told of my novels series, and you were so butthurt and surprised that I wasn’t gullible enough to buy your bullshit cover-story of “just wanting to give feedback AFTER you read them”.
  And how the fuck do you plan on reading 13 novels during the few minutes we have between the end of the day’s farm labor and the numerous preparations to not freeze to death by bedtime?  Novels that aren’t even fully edited yet?  You are the Grand Master Captain of Team Retard.  Here is your sign.

and so on,
but I got little more than insults, demands, and threats from the owner, his evil son, that random liar (fake volunteer) who showed up, and that evil woman on the other side of the farm.
Thankfully the rest of them (8 of the 12) appreciated me, were kind to me, and acknowledged/complimented my work ethic.
I guess that was another “you’re still in Phase 2” sign; 2/3 of them were decent to me.

Contradictions:
(what those religious nut-jobs have always been known for; their hallmark / calling-card now)

• He claimed he was farming, but he paid other farmers for produce he resold.  The only thing he was selling was a small portion of the kale he was only successfully growing in a single greenhouse out of 28 of those buildings –and it was covered in slugs which had to be removed.
• He claimed it was never windy enough for his windmill to work, yet that it was often so windy that it tore his greenhouse covers apart. The reality was that he had not installed the windmill or greenhouse covers correctly; he was the one who tore them, by nailing and drilling through them.  He also kept further damaging them by taking them off every year, then putting them right back on –which no one would ever need to do if they had installed them the normal sane way.
• He claimed the Russians attacked every few years, but had no evidence to support that.  Meanwhile, he WAS attacking everyone –DAILY –with EVERY CONVO.
• He claimed his marriage was “on the rocks” since losing one child, but it was clearly because of how abusive he was.  I can’t help but wonder if he bullied that child to the point of suicide, then blamed the incident on someone/thing else –just like he blamed everything.
• He claimed he wanted a meeting to discuss the farm work, yet spent five hours threatening me and saying creepy pedophile-like things about how hot he thought young Native girls were until they reached a certain age, apparently trying to bait me into agreeing with him for some reason, but only making himself look like a bipolar pedophile in the process.  Did he just want me to pretend to be a pedophile so he would feel kinship?
• He also directly accused all Native males of being pedophiles, saying it out loud in public at the packed bar/eatery –yet at the same time, as I just noted, talked about how beautiful and sexy “like supermodels” Native preteens were, suggesting only he was the brazen creeper. His racism and sweeping generalizations were slanderous, baseless, and off the charts.
• Then, of course, he pretended he was religious while not living in alignment with a single value most religions claim to be all about, and that anyone who was too creeped out to go to church with him somehow wasn’t religious at all.  No, dude, they just can’t stand you because you’re a fucking psycho –and any church that lets you in should be audited –by god.

 

The only pedophile I saw while there (in Alaska) was his foulmouthed punk of a son; he kept grabbing his younger sister and putting her hand in his mouth, pure evil in his eyes as he got off to abusing her like that no matter how much she hated it and yelled at him to stop.
He had the same aura/vibe as the idiotic bullies I dealt with during my childhood, and the same of those scummy veterans I dealt with later; he defaulted to any extreme lies and other exaggerations at all, always panicking, always overreacting, always religiously harassing, always demanding attention, always threatening.

One of the newborn kittens was found practically paralyzed as if after a stroke… the same time the person who lived in that same building complained the owner had kicked her door in (caught on camera, no less), probably smashing the poor kitten in the process.

I even witnessed the owner gleefully insulting his own wife in front of everyone (the same pure-evil darkness in his eyes that his punk son had when bullying/assaulting the daughter), and later threatening to decapitate another volunteer –yes, literally saying he would do that to the man.  It was as if he was determined to attack and alienate everyone out of his life.  Why?

When I high-fived one of the people there, the owner mad-dogged me while telling someone on the phone, “He already touched her!”  He actually thought I was wrong for accepting an offered high-five.  Who the hell freaks out over high-fives?

I was told he sometimes blocked people’s vehicles so they couldn’t leave (so why harass and alienate and terrorize them if you don’t want them to leave?),
and that the water kept getting shut off, preventing showers and even critical crops growing on one side of the farm.
I even got asked by people there not to reply to messages because they were afraid of what he might do to them if he noticed they were in contact with people.
What a nightmare he/they had created.

Let’s also remember the time that “farm” owner stood outside, staring through the window at us while we ate a well-earned dinner after working the entire day, non-stop, he “mad-dog-ing” us because we didn’t abandon that dinner we were starving for; he expected us to hop up the moment he claimed there was yet another imagined disaster happening in one of his unused idiotically-built greenhouses. He panicked even because of minor breezes. He panicked even when we wanted to finish a meal or break before resuming salvaging his total disaster of a “farm”. He always went straight to lies and rage, thinking that would somehow magically start motivating and convincing us, no matter how uniformly it kept making us want to avoid him more and more.

Oh, and let’s not forget how I was abruptly stopped from walking toward a trash can to drop off my paper plate I’d been eating from; one of them suddenly turning to face me, pointedly asking, “Where do you think YOU are going??”  I raised an eyebrow, wondering what the hell was going on, and said, “…To the trash.”  …???
Oh my god, you got me!  You caught me red-handed!  Clearly, having approached an underage trashcan, I must be a pedophile!  It’s a good thing you were “on to me”!  What if I’d somehow managed to fuck your trashcan?  Good job keeping an eye out for those trashcan-fucking farmhand-volunteer pedophiles!  You know how the world works.  No fooling you!  Make sure that you announce to everyone the moment I touch the trashcan lid to open it to put my trash in there:  “HE ALREADY TOUCHED IT!!”  Call the trashcan-pedophile police at once!!!
What the fuck is wrong with Alaskans/Americans/humans?  Seriously.  What the fuck is wrong with you all?
The level of paranoia and retardation of so many I have had the extreme displeasure of encountering so far…  Just off the charts.  There’s no other way to put it.  Off the fucking charts.
Even if I tried to save someone from immediately-imminent drowning, I would almost certainly get accused of just wanting to grope them or something.
Even if there was no one around at all, and I was unconscious, sleeping, one of them would undoubtedly wake me up to ask me what I was up to.  Goddamn sleeping.  Now piss off, you psychos.  Go be paranoid somewhere else.

Don’t ask for help if you don’t actually want any.
If you just want to bully and lie about people, go be a lawyer or in collections or something.
Christ.

After being pestered and harassed after volunteering long hours for months in a row, and being accused of this and that, no matter how much I minded my own business and wasn’t up to anything, I accepted the reality that I would never have any time for my own projects there (another prime example:  after the owner hurrying to the spider-infested bus and banging on its broken door while talking through a closed window before I could even figure out what was going on or hear the guy –and he was just panicking because I wasn’t working the entire day AND night, he yelling, “I have to FIND him!”), or even any basic respect, so I prepared to depart before the winter arrived, shutting down every road and town for thousands of miles for several months straight. (Yes, winters up there are that severe; entire towns are seasonal, everyone leaving, not even gas stations still in operation.)  There was no way I could risk getting stranded there with those crazies.

Did they (the four evil ones) read some part of my website out of context, or not understand what fictional or mature-audience creative-writing is?
Did they think I was pretending to help farm… like the owner was pretending to farm?
Had they only met bad-guys before, not thinking good ones existed?
I don’t know, and I don’t care; what matters is that they defaulted to an extreme negative, they didn’t care about my input, they judged and harassed and bullied me no matter how well-mannered I was with them, and they had done that to dozens, if not hundreds, of other innocent people, including entire races which weren’t even there to defend themselves; to present their own side of the story.
In short, they (those four) either are evil, or chose to be evil to many people, thus it doesn’t matter what they latched onto and blew out of proportion; their nature/essence is to latch onto things and intentionally misinterpret them. That’s just how primitive parasites such as attention-whores are.
Anyone who isn’t parroting nonsense like them (i.e. repeating whatever phrases their fake religion tells them to say) freaks them out because it shows how weak they themselves are, and how strong and self-stabilized those around them are, so they try slander and picking fights, hoping they can abuse their legal system to get those good normal people locked up (i.e. by blaming fights they start on those innocent victims), thus no longer shining brightly, (the shining of) which had been making it that much easier to see how dark and spineless they themselves are.
They overreact to anyone who doesn’t spinelessly parrot their weakness-based false/plagiarized religion, pretending that such mindless parroting is the only thing that is good and acceptable. (“If you don’t convert right now and go to my particular church, you aren’t religious and must be a liar!”) Nothing is a worse cowardice. Nothing is more wrong. Nothing is farther from manhood and holiness than them and that method of theirs. Nothing is as obvious, instantly detectable.
At least they are easy to spot and outmaneuver. At least they destroy their own health by parroting bad diets, too. Wayward mortals. “What are you gonna do?” (There is nothing that can be done to save them; they are determined to self-doom; to ruin themselves and anyone gullible enough to listen/believe.)

…

There was so much I could have taught them about

• automation
• budgeting
• construction
• critical thinking
• dieting and nutrition
• energy sources
• farming
• healthcare
• history
• leadership
• networking
• online advertising
• organizing
• PEOPLE SKILLS
• pest control (the eco-friendly kind)
• research
• spirituality
• sustainability
• travel
• writing
• and more

and I would have taught it all for free, except that they kept demonizing, slandering, bullying, bribing, and threatening me, plus trying to corrupt me with drugs, strippers, and their cult.
Their lies, overreactions, and pestering were through the roof.
They were helpless, as lost and evil as can be. Immoral is the term; they had no morals at all.

…

I’ll always remember the fucked up overly-loud way that moron woman yelled, “Wohhh!” when I dropped off a gift basked for her entire family one afternoon, one I had put effort into for them and the other family on the other side of their “farm”; it was the way someone says, “Hell no! Too far!” What on Earth about a group gift basket, of all things, would trigger someone? Talk about a fucked up paranoid fool and mega-cunt.
They really were impossible to do Anything nice for. They interpreted Everything as a sign of evil. Why???  No wonder their lives were train wrecks, no one else other than me around to try and help them during all the time I was there.  Word (of how fucked up they all were and mistreated/abused/threatened people) must have spread for years before my arrival.

When I wasn’t interested in his lame women, lame salary offer, drugs, booze, or strippers (all of which he kept pressuring me to accept), he blurted out, “How do I conTrol you?!”
Ugh… why the fuck are you all bitch-in-heat about a volunteer farmhand who never Once said he was going to move in with you for life, freak?
Just like my fake relatives, and the dumbass feds, and so many others I have met in the failed human civilization, he somehow lacked any logic, balance, self control, manners, or moderation. Everything was at an extreme end of the spectrum in his tiny brain; to him, everyone was attacking (even Russians who weren’t present at all), or a pedophile (even people who had no interest in his or any other children), or needed to be controlled with money and drugs.
Why? Why, dude? Why, humans? (Why were so many other humans I met, like this retard, also desperate to find ways of corrupting and controlling/manipulating innocent helpers/volunteers?) Get a grip. Calm your tits Down. Breeeaaathe.

Telling me the filming (of the TV show episode their farm, years back, got featured on) was scripted… was probably itself scripted; an attempt to lower my guard by pretending to be forthright while laying a retarded trap, which is probably why the previous 68 volunteers got offended away.

Like so many others I met, their defect/retardation was that it never occurred to them to get to know people; they prejudged and slandered and ambushed everyone, even their own (e.g. the many times the father insulted the wife, or blamed his kids for things, or when the evil/bully/punk brother disrespected his own sister in front of guests). If they had accepted evidence and input from others, they wouldn’t have had a complete failure of a farm and family (for more than a decade and counting). They were constantly on guard against nice innocent people, and interpreted every nice gesture as evil, while only allowing abusive behavior to be experienced by their good family members.

Since 4 ‘people’ (bullies/monsters) at the fake farm were openly violent and homicidal, one even threatening to break my car, I knew I could not tell anyone when or even if I was leaving (since it would 100% be interfered with), so I did my best to give a heads-up to those who had good hearts/souls/minds; “I may have to leave for classes and training.” How I wished I could have hugged the good ones goodbye. How I wished they hadn’t been forced to live with such scum as the bad 4. I imagine/guess that my gentle and hardworking presence there had really helped them, and that my abrupt forced departure had emotionally hurt them much like how I had been devastated when the corrupt government agents had broken apart my first meaningful relationship with my best friend’s entire family.

…

On the way out, more punk kids (is that an Alaska thing?) in the border-town hit or threw something at my parked car, keeping me up when I needed sleep, forcing me to call the police so they would disperse and I could return to my motel room to finally get some needed rest before my weeks-long drive back down to the lower 48.  I had never stopped in that border-town before, by the way, never stayed at that motel, never met, let alone wronged, anyone there; why the hell were they targeting me?  Are Alaskans really that bored, criminal, and retarded?  Apparently.

Alaska, start raising your children correctly!  Shame on you for harboring such scum.

…Now that I think about it again, I wonder if somehow even all of that bullying was part of some ongoing underhanded effort to discourage all farming/sustainability, farm volunteers, veterans helping one another, you name it.

Then a Native in a suburban (in that Canada roadside reservation) honked a long time to wake me up after I had responsibly pulled off the highway to nap before driving the rest of the way back to Montana.  I wasn’t blocking any traffic, using any reserved parking space, or doing anything weird at all; I was resting in my vehicle in silence.  I still can’t believe how fucked up that guy chose to be.  It actually angered him for some reason that I was asleep in my own vehicle.
Maybe I was wrong to want to see the good in Natives, defending them from that psycho slanderous fake farmer back in Alaska accusing them all of pedophilia.  Maybe their kind are just bullies and creeps, too.  I don’t yet have evidence to the contrary.

The “friends” of one of those farmers I was introduced to as a possible waypoint back in the 48 (while I figured out my next move/rental) were drug addicts (heavy/chain smokers, drinkers, etc.) and moody as hell (which is what happens when you fuck up your internal chemistry with controlled substances), one even loudly shoving or kicking in the door to my room, doing his best to startle me.  Why?  How can that many people in a row be that fucked up?
How can they be that retarded; to not see the miracle/salvation that was my tireless months of free service to them, trying to salvage their “farm” and whatever else I was working on?  Were they mind-controlled or something?  Maybe…
((begin sarcasm) But those scripted-convo reciters at HAARP had made sure to discuss that, specifically referencing some guy who called in and asked if they could control minds with their technology. They had made sure to pretend to chuckle about it so I would hear as I walked by. Surely they don’t possess the ability to influence brains; organs based on sending and receiving energy… with their vast array of multi-story antennae capable of outputting enough energy to move the entire local atmosphere (not just a storm within it), bend trees down on their sides, and cause region-wide EMP effects. Of course not. Don’t be so silly. (end sarcasm))

I will always remember how awful all those people were, and be sure to annihilate everything out of my way during all upcoming trips back there.  So few were polite and good to me, but even those too afraid to fully stand up for themselves and drive out the parasitic slanderers.  Since they don’t have what it takes to maintain positive control of their own realms, I’ll take over and do the job for them.  So be it.

With what little money I had left after all that (half a year working for nothing other than to help a couple families get back on their feet), I sent a parting gift which had been requested by a desperate mother back on that farm; because all their money kept getting spent on preparing for a nonexistent war with Russia, leaving them with nothing for farming, savings, college, personal vehicles, or fun/life.  I could hear it in her voice; how she was secretly begging me to get them a single simple present, the kind of which they probably hadn’t known or seen in years, if ever.  Poor thing was doing her best to stay professional while her vibe was blasting “mayday”.
Anyway, I learned my gift had reached them via the faraway post office, so I hope it brought some joy and relief to one or two of the sane/good ones back there.  That was all I could do at that point, having been driven faraway like those 68 volunteers before me.

If only that owner and his punk son had been sane and civil like the rest of the people trying to survive on his fake farm; they would have had such better volunteer retention and land productivity.  They might even have been financially comfortable by now.  They certainly would have been if they’d let me stay there un-harassed –and not in an abandoned infested school bus.  Morons.

One night back in Montana, focusing on where I had been up there in Alaska during this 2nd pass/round, I seem to have sent enough emotional energy to shake their capital city and shatter one of its highway sections.  (I’ve summoned lightning, shooting stars, and other atmospheric and cosmic events, so why not consider this possibility?)  The event was all over the news right after I did that.  They say there are no coincidences.
Will it teach them some long-overdue manners?  Probably not; they all seemed pretty damn retarded and hellbent on destroying themselves, but I can always hope.  I guess I’ll find out when I start going back –this time starting all my itineraries with similar events, making sure they remember what the rules for conduct are.

I am still in shock at how superstitious, paranoid, delusional, disrespectful, dishonest, unhealthy, cocky, and generally unprofessional so many of them were (the four at that “farm”, plus the vandals in that border-town, plus of course that psycho veteran who nearly got my hand bitten off by his intentionally incorrectly-trained mutt, and the hyper-glutton neighbor of his, and so on).
The experience was so bad that I decided never to try helping farmers ever again, at least without doing far more of a background check on everyone seeking my help (and that’s exactly what I did before helping the Mexico group, but even after extra months of getting to know them, and scouting on my own, several of them and many more Mexicans made things even worse than those Alaska and Montana morons did).
It was my 2nd-last international trip until after 2024.  (Keep in mind how much more frequently I used to travel, and how I’d been gradually and steadily increasing how far I went, and how many places I scouted, on each trip, until I was calling them “mega expeditions”; imagine what it would take to stupefy and ‘wind’ a guy that seasoned and focused on exploration.)

That said, I still got months of training and experience out of it, I met many new people, and I even swam in the cold Alaska coastal waters on a beach with dead sharks and jellyfish. It was another decent step toward being as remote, clean, and productive as possible.
Then, of course, I apparently leveled up enough to cause major earthquakes, so that is nice.
(I guess even horrible people have tolerable byproducts like that; they always seem to charge me up enough to work even greater wonders than before.)

Now that I know how Alaskans treat healthy honest hardworking veterans and volunteers, I’ll be sure to just delete all of them the moment they come into view. So be it. We can start with highway-shattering earthquakes next time (because manners and selfless service sure don’t work).
I guess Phase 3 will be good not because I finally meet the few who are good, but because I get to unleash my full power on a realm of only bad ones.
I was really hoping Phase 2 would show me where the good people are, and that a place such as Alaska would be “country” enough to have hardworking helpful people, but Phase 2 only showed me more things needing a gods-level ass-whooping.

Those nice neighborhoods, I’ll just commandeer, then.
The ruins and other ancient sites, I’ll reconquer from whatever humanimals are out there.

And the claim that the pyramid energy is making wildlife more hostile to humans? Just the latest of endless lies (slander/blame-shifting) from the loser locals. If anything, the wildlife is more hostile on its own –because it has to live with the evil attention-whore losers pestering all good beings… whom I only had to put up with for a few months.
Then, there is also the long-standing evidence that the pyramids and other ancient structures are apparently specifically designed to amplify whatever gets near/in them, so bad people think they have become cursed/doomed, while good people there at the same or any other time instead feel like they have been fully healed/restored.
How it is.

…

What I’d like (for upcoming trips to this state) is to only deal with the hottie in the grocery store who kneeled smiling up to me, and the 2 Native girls who showed up at that fake-farm in their car with the unmistakable vibe that they had driven there to be there for me; all three of them were vibing like they wanted to meet me (even though the one at the store in town had an undertone of being suspicious/sent), and I have wondered why they didn’t finish that process this whole time.  Hopefully 5.5 years is enough wondering; hopefully they’ll now get in touch with me, explain, and help me experience the good parts of Alaska as soon as I start round 3 up there.
Why not?  They managed to find me with perfect timing when I was out there in the middle of nowhere; it should be easy for them now.

…

Anyway, now you know how round 2 in Alaska went for me; it lasted months longer than round 1, I got to help multiple people with major projects instead of just scouting around, I got offers to stay for years, I saw flawless hotties making sure I saw them, and overall it was another great ‘training evolution’, a very big next step right in line with my values and goal/s.
Sure, several people I met during it all were awful dipshits who should at least be imprisoned for life, but overall it leveled me up, and all the land up there is as beautiful and storybook as it gets.
Thus I score some of the people there a zero/F, some others there a D (barely passing), and the state (at least where the humans aren’t) an A.

…

It was obvious that I had been spied on and extremely misinterpreted, and that evil individuals/forces were doing their best to get me in fights/trouble.
It was obvious that they were hopelessly stupid/retarded, unable to be helped/saved/taught at all.
It, however, was also obvious that more than one of the finest females of this state/area had also at least been told to travel to me, if they hadn’t themselves somehow heard my call/request/summons, so that is a tolerable next step in the right direction.
Finally, it is obvious that I needed to see (and firsthand experience) just how pure-evil a disappointingly-high percent of the local population out here was; the only way to have good trips here or anywhere else was to be made aware of how intrusive and otherwise inappropriate/criminal those lowly beings kept choosing to be, thus the level of force which must be brought to stop that insane crap.
Now that I have witnessed that they fuck with pure-innocent people such as me and the majority at that “farm” I tried to salvage, and talk shit about entire demographics/races, mindlessly accusing everyone else of what they kept accusing me of, I know that there are probably many more out here –and in many other lands/realms– who have had to endure the same severe and unforgiveable abuses; I know to return with overwhelming force, enabling those innocents to finally get away from those false-human pests once and for all –so they don’t have to just nervously drop hints to me in passing before asking me not to reply, lest they be further bullied/slandered/targeted.
Several good people out here heard and answered my call/s, showing up and making themselves known to me, and so now I, as soon as I am able, shall answer their own.  I heard them.  I saw them.  I felt their unmistakably gentle/good vibes.  I shall return for them.
They dared to be good to me even when it surely got them harassed to no end, likely even more than I was harassed and otherwise disrespected on that fake farm.  I shall return the favor –with interest.
Hopefully they all managed to survive like I have; hopefully they are still there and well (enough) when I return.
Either way, Alaska will eventually be inhabited only by good people once again.

 

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