Eivin Kilcher doesn鈥檛 sit down much. He鈥檚 too busy doing the things you can only do in action mode. He鈥檇 rather teach his dog how to ride his horse, which he recently did. He鈥檇 rather set up a new bolted climbing route through the Kenai Mountains so that if he did sit for a moment, he鈥檇 have a better view of the glaciers, which he did. He鈥檇 rather build a moose-proof fence around his orchard, which required being seated in the cab of his tractor part of the time, if you can call that sitting, which most people don鈥檛.

Eivin Kilcher.

Eivin Kilcher and his wife Eve.

Eivin Kilcher.

He will sit for dinner, but only after he and his wife Eve have hunted or gathered from their garden鈥攚hich is to bend to the ground and pick whatever鈥檚 ripe. And when dinner is over, he takes his dog for a walk through the forest surrounding the cabin to look for wild berries and edible mushrooms. He鈥檒l kneel to gather, but won鈥檛 sit down, because not doing something is a thing he can do later鈥攚hen he鈥檚 dead. Being Alaskan, there is tremendous motivation to survive, or at least not die.

Anyway, he will sit to clean his shotgun, or make a leather quiver for his arrows, or knit a cap to keep out the cold. He鈥檒l sit to catch fish through a hole in the ice, but that鈥檚 only because he has to be very still and very patient. Eventually, his wife will get hungry for rabbit stew, which means he鈥檒l have to hunt. It may take all four hours of a mid-winter day, but that鈥檚 OK with Eivin because it鈥檚 a day well-spent beating death.

For much of the summer, he was forced to sit for the cameras that have become a fixture in his home鈥攖he cabin he built鈥攖elling the cameramen from the Discovery Channel about all the sitting he hasn鈥檛 been doing. For viewers of , it鈥檚 fascinating television to sit on their couches and watch him talk about plucking pheasants for dinner and making sleds out of the roofs of antique, snow-buried Subarus deep within the Kilcher homestead. In fact, it鈥檚 interesting enough to want to be there and do what he does. So I did something about it. I went to Alaska and did what Eivin does, which means getting dirty鈥攊f you can keep up, which nobody can if he doesn鈥檛 let them.

But he wants you to keep up. He likes to show you how he can do what he does, which he does as a guide part-time with a non-profit called the Homer Wilderness Leaders. He and other guides take local kids camping in the coves of Kachemak Bay State Park, where bears pawed at the rocks the night before, but the kids are never in danger, because Eivin shows them how to be ready for everything. He brought me along for one of the summer survival retreats to remind me just how overrated sitting can be.

The kids sign up to do what Eivin does best, which is survive and camp in the wilderness and tell ghost stories at night. He takes them fishing and shows them how to build a shelter from the rain. They鈥檒l eat the fish they caught during the day and laugh about Eivin being on TV and making Alaska even more famous. One kid, in his early teens, told me why Alaska is a big deal on TV. He said it鈥檚 because people watching reality shows probably think Alaskans are savages, which the kid also thought was 鈥減retty cool.鈥� He emphasized this when he pulled out his knife, picked some salmon guts off the blade, stabbed a marshmallow and melted it in the fire. He never even blinked. In case you鈥檙e wondering, melted salmon guts and marshmallows have the aftertaste of a sticky, old penny.

I almost went canoeing with Eivin in the shadow of China Poot Peak the next morning, but he preferred to stand and go fishing鈥攚hich he did with feet planted on a large paddleboard, wearing a wetsuit and aviators. Later that night, Eivin sat by the fire and showed me the knife he made from an antler and a piece of steel he bought from a blacksmith in Thailand. The blade was almost too sharp, and the handle was tacky with salmon that he disemboweled as he knelt at the low-tide line below camp. It would have made great TV, but the cameramen weren鈥檛 there. They went on vacation to take a rest from keeping up with Eivin.

The TV show is ultimately about what the Kilchers do, and about what happens if they don鈥檛 do what they need to. At least for the purposes of television drama, not getting something done in time means the Kilchers will most certainly die鈥攂ut they won鈥檛 die anytime soon, because they can do anything. This is true for all the Kilchers except for Eivin鈥檚 cousin, Atz Lee, who can鈥檛 do anything except play music, which he does better than most anyone鈥攁t least as good as his sister Jewel, the pop star.

I saw Atz Lee buying tortillas and shredded cheese at the general store in the heat of early August. As he walked up the stairs of the Fritz Creek General Store, he paused and almost screamed, then he tugged at his shirt and flailed his arms all around himself and ran inside. You could easily assume he was going insane, but he wasn鈥檛 (that part comes in the winter). He was being attacked by a bee because he鈥檚 the Kilcher who gets picked on because he can鈥檛 do anything. After fleeing the bee, he told me he was determined to be better on TV this year鈥攕pecifically, that he wouldn鈥檛 be the Kilcher who can鈥檛 do any of the things that all the other Kilchers can do so well.

The Kilchers were notorious before the TV cameras found them鈥攖hought of as a feral clan of slightly brilliant, slightly insane, self-actuating pioneers. They are a rich sourdough鈥攁n acquired taste. They are a delight to some, amusing to all鈥攅specially to themselves. They鈥檙e the all-terrain vehicle of people, which they鈥檝e had to become because they live beyond the western-most point of the western-most road in the North American highway system, past the very last post office and the last grocery store. They homesteaded there in the 1940s where the spruce forest swells down to the beach and to the view of blue and white glaciers beyond the bay. The homesteading didn鈥檛 exactly stop, which is why they鈥檙e on TV hunting for dinner and collecting timber from the forest and coal from the beach to heat their homes. It鈥檚 the kind of life that keeps them bushy and wiry. It鈥檚 rough, which is the way they like it. As they see it, an easy life just isn鈥檛 as interesting.

Fans perceive the Kilcher lifestyle as exotic and unnecessary, and fun鈥攁s long as your idea of fun is to collect drinking water from a spring at the end of a treacherous switchback trail and wear scars and calluses all over your hands. It鈥檚 fun if you like chasing bloodthirsty wolves on horseback like Atz Lee鈥檚 father Atz Sr. (who is Eivin鈥檚 uncle).

Atz Sr. is the cowboy of the Kilchers. He鈥檚 the wild man who hunts the 10-foot-tall grizzlies that made snacks of the Kilcher cattle. Up close, he鈥檚 kinder and gentler than who he is on TV. He鈥檚 also a musician鈥攁 guitar-playing balladeer who sings his songs in concerts about his adventures, his ex-wives and long-gone girlfriends. That, and the scars, the wolves, the plucking of feathers: it鈥檚 all part of the Kilcher allure, he says.

鈥淲e鈥檝e been doing this shit all of our lives. When I think about it, I鈥檓 blown away by how much hard work it is to homestead鈥攁nd I was raised that way,鈥� Atz Sr. says. 鈥淚 can鈥檛 blame anyone a bit who might be watching from the suburbs and say, Wow. It鈥檚 still amazing to me. I鈥檓 right there with them. Just like when I do a concert and people say, I like your songs. I say, Yeah. Me too.鈥�

And because people like his songs, and because the Kilchers insist on doing everything themselves, Atz Sr. wrote and recorded the show鈥檚 theme song with his daughter, Jewel the pop star, which is a gritty 鈥淕host Riders in the Sky鈥�-style saddle song about blood, sweat and tears and being an Alaskan in a place where many of the things that will kill you will probably also eat you. But the Kilchers won鈥檛 get eaten by wild animals, not only because there鈥檚 nothing they can鈥檛 do, but because they won鈥檛 let themselves get eaten鈥攅specially when the cameras are rolling.

Atz Sr.鈥檚 brother Otto, the father of Eivin, also avoids death on camera and otherwise, although he very much could have died in countless circumstances before. He didn鈥檛 die during decades of deadly cattle drives. He didn鈥檛 die when he ate rancid moose meat. And he didn鈥檛 die when he climbed so many slippery, mossy trees. Otto is Alaskan, and this is what Alaskans do鈥攖hey defy odds and cultural norms, most of the time. Otto, for example, defies in ways that normal people would never dream: Whereas normal people would use chainsaws and tractors to destroy an old tree stump, Otto uses a cocktail of explosives, which makes great TV.

What makes it even better is that the Kilchers do the things they do even when the cameras aren鈥檛 there. Because it鈥檚 the kind of stuff they鈥檝e always done, and will always do, if they don鈥檛 die in the process.

Writer spent a month this summer living and working with the Kilchers on their homestead on the Kenai Peninsula in south central Alaska. He lives in Chicago.

The post Not Dying in Alaska: A Profile of the Kilcher Family appeared first on 国产吃瓜黑料 Online.