The late 70’s was a time when cash in the north was flowing in like the high tide and folks were running from the law in droves. Scholars, professionals, adventurers and dropouts were all part of the same community. It really was a wild west and the final days of the last frontier.
Young folks – many of whom are now sixty-somethings with pension plans and sun visors – were dressed up like Jeremiah Johnson swimming through piles of oil money and cocaine as if the world would end tomorrow. As a young man, my father, Roy flew up to Nome, Alaska to start a new chapter in life.
In the midst of working as a P.A. in remote villages throughout Alaska, he managed to do a bit of hunting. It was different back then. The guys would fly out with some maps, get dropped off and say farewell to the pilot for a week or even longer if the weather was bad. People didn’t bring Satellite phones or GPS’s. There was no such thing as cell reception. Those guys had homemade fire starting kits, canned beans, MRE’s, Vietnam survival skills and a compass. They were clad in wool and leather. It was the late ice age of gear technology.