1. |
movement 1
17:06
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I am in a place bounded by the Bering Sea and mountains
a place that has been lived on and from for generations
movement 1
Council Road Solomon Schoolhouse (south),
six ten a.m. wind Westerly Temperature minus 3 Degrees Celsius
snow caps hills behind me
I see to the edges of this shallow basin
heading to the sea my footfall crisp in cold air
birds get up and sing sing sing
at the beach I turn east
bleached timber stranded beyond summer waves
four duck fly from the sands that hunters walk
I feel the wind freshen
back-of-the beach grass already short-summer tall
in the tyre-written sand
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2. |
movement 2
17:07
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a place on a land bridge 100 miles to the Arctic Circle 160 to Russia
2000 miles from the “lower 48” of modern-day America
the only land route in or out is by dog sled across the frozen face of winter
movement 2
Council Road, Solomon Schoolhouse, (north),
six thirty six a.m. wind Northerly, Temperature minus 4 Degrees Celsius
windless mist drip drip drop drips off the small porch roof
I stand then walk
I can see little in mist enough to hide a bear
gravel lies in tyre-worn grooves
I walk by the clock to turn
at a place unmarked
at forty minutes
above gravel crunch
sparrow song slowly rises
as summer mist lifts
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3. |
movement 3
17:08
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a place where drifting Yukon panners found gold on a beach and triggered an invasion
that multitude has gone but a small town and some gold remains
movement 3
Nome, East D Street
six thirty seven A.M. wind Northwesterly Temperature 2 Degrees Celsius
walk right-angles the old-town blocks of wooden houses
winter-worn paint peeling
the harbour is empty
hauled out boats stand timber shored
inside the sea wall
front street stands quiet
building plots push north and east
on ring road edge lands
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4. |
movement 4
17:20
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a place of three roads three dirt roads
up to 80 miles they run to villages or to where the gold was
movement 4
Teller Road, milepost 5,
Six thirty one A.M. wind Northerly Temperature 11 Degrees Celsius
thrum in roadside wires
snipe winnow in a north wind
I am surrounded by song
a view to the coast
a tundra blanket wraps squat tanks of aviation fuel
a low grumble and the song of trucks reversing
sounds of gold
phalarope spin and chase from pool to roadside pool
wind drops as the day warms
the edge of town
raven croaks from a rusting dredge
quad-biker roars off
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5. |
movement 5
16:53
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stand see the land
look at over across land crossed on foot
in June the land is wet the scrub is thick a land of predator and prey
movement 5
Kougarok Road, Kurzitrin River bridge, Milepost 68
Seven thirteen A.M. wind South Southeast Temperature 16 degrees Celsius
pass roadside moose prints in a cloud of mosquitoes
raven calls from the bridge
by riverside flats longspur flies and warbler sings
a milepost is missing
as the day’s heat builds
I gaze back to a blue white horizon line
distant snowy range
the road slowly rises
a long pull up to a saddle and rolling tundra
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6. |
movement 6
17:06
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I move through this place in seven replicated walks
seven days
a re-setting of place a re-framing a re-consideration
the next day a new day a fresh walk in ‘the same place’
movement 6
Kougarok Road, milepost 25
six fifty five A.M. wind Southwesterly Temperature 14 degrees Celsius
I walk in sunshine on a smooth worn road
mile’d with bullet-riddled posts
pushing through willow scrub
snow melt swollen waters rock race smash roll
in the cliff-face cave three gyr chicks are well feathered
arctic warbler sings
small purples and pinks
wild irises and clustered stalks of whorled lousewort
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7. |
movement 7
17:09
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on this land one place
seven days in June
one place in seven movements
movement 7
Teller Road, milepost 69
Ten fifty seven A.M. wind Southwesterly Temperature 14 degrees Celsius
pass dump and airstrip
to sight the curve of beach town spit
a south west wind blows
tan coloured lowland
rolling tundra meadow cut by tumbling streams
the lagoon lies still inside the long spit
boats hauled out on a beach of shells
a shop door hangs open
hunt trade fish gather barter ways of living here
on a spit of stones
to stand at the littoral
end of the road
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Martin P Eccles Newcastle Upon Tyne, UK
I am a walking sound artist and poet. My practice reflects the experience of my presence in and walking through natural
environments.
I use a range of methods (predominantly sound and text) to respond to time, distance and place in the landscape.
... more
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