All videos New video footage I have many how to, some wildlife how I do my art various projects
About Miles
I was born in Hawaii in 52, while my father was in the military. We moved almost every year throughout my childhood. California, Cleveland, Syracuse, Media PA are jut a few places. I’d call it upper middle class as my father got schooling , became a college teacher, and ultimately 3 PHD degrees, and dean of a college. I was used to class and respect growing up. My father and I have the same name, I am Miles Walter Martin 111. I did not want to be jut a chip off the old block. I did not want to make it in life because it was handed to me on a silver platter. I did not think I could live up to all my father is, compete with him. I wished to have my own sense of accomplishment. I was in the news for my at when I was 5 years old a paper turkey. It gave me positive attention in my own right. I got various art awards in school. I never though of 'art' as a way to make a living however, till I was much older. My parents has 'issues,' hard upbringings. Dad got divorced, then I saw a few substitute mothers. I always stayed with my father, which was unusual in the 50's. Possibly family stuff to forget, get away from that had me in a fantasy world of pretend. Being an artist was not cool at the time, no art heroes to look up to. I chose the heroes to admire from TV. Daniel Boone, Davy Crocket, "King of the wild frontier" sung at the beginning of each episode. Black powder rifle, tossing a tomahawk. Wow! I did not do well early on in school maybe due to problems at home and moving a lot. Lucky for me I did well when it mattered in high school proving no, I was not stupid, maybe just tweaked. tried to turn 'tweaked,' into a asset instead of a liability. Doing things on my own in a different way. Little of my education has been formal nor stands out in any way. I could have gone to college free and chose not to, chose instead a harsh wilderness life. Hard to know why. A product of the hippie baby boomer 60's, tune and and drop out generation? But without the drugs. Denounce caplitaism and join a commune? But for me the mountain man alone life? I never noticed any distain for money or capitalism I am aware of. I did feel I don't wish to make money my God. Dad got all this status and money but did not seem happy. He had his boat at a dock he never had time to sail. A shop full of clean tools he never used. I'm aware of wanting to be a garbage man as a first job. I had a neighbor girl I envied who had a father who dumpster dove. He'd come home, and the whole family was so glad to see him, go through what kind of cool stuff he found at the dump today. So glad to see him. I felt admired such a happy family. I myself thought his stuff was cool. The whole idea of repurposing recycling 'saving the planet,' not being such consumers appealed to the rebellious age of such fast advancements getting ahead of us. To this day my mother recalls telling me, "Don't tell your father!" I can only assume a lot of secrets, not being understood. Yet at the same time, gifted, intelligent. My father did teach me how to be a free thinker and how to get accurate information, as well as to be open minded. I developed good work ethics, and being healthy. Our home always had professors, students for other countries. I was exposed to a variety of foods from around the world, a variety of life choices, forms of government, various kinds of money. One step mother was into fine art and culture. I was exposed to the wildlife work of Audubon for example. She was also directly related to the famous western writer, Zane Gray. Her father, a Zane, used to baby sit me. He was a woodworker, and famous photographer. I took up photography at a very young age, developed my own film by the age of 12. A card Company wanted my pictures at the age of 13. My paintings were hanging in the hall of the university my father taught at when I was 14. It seemed at the time none of this mattered because what stood out was my being odd. At least for the environment I was in. I end up believing in destiny, a path some are destined for that must be fulfilled. Even a past life. That would explain a lot. Be the simple pat answer.
First job I always worked, but did not think of it as work. I had a paper route, mowed lawns, picked weeds, polished the neighbors silver. My first serious job was at 15 when I went across country to work on a ranch for a summer, having been raised in suburbs in college towns. I liked the physical work. At 16 I got permission to join the Navy during the Viet am war so I would not be drafted. I got out after the war and had some savings and skills. I had no place to go when I got out so moved into the wilderness and ended up homesteading at 22 and moving along with my art and writing. Partly my new different lifestyle gave me something to say through my art and words and even later with access to wilderness raw materials.
When I arrived in Alaska
I was called an educated idiot. I said "Gosh golly, are you a for real trapper? Let me shake your hand. I want to be like you some day!" "Get away from me kid, ya bother me" I was hungry for a role model, but all I had were my books. I was a troubled, even dangerous child. My story could have easily ended 'In Cold Blood'. Joined up with a Charles Manson type. Everything was everyone else's fault. Going into the wild I called at the time 'my walk about.' The time in a child's life among primitive people when you see what you are made of, go out by yourself, and come back a man. A vision quest, where you come back after an ordeal, and the village shaman gives you a new name. A process I feel is missing in civilization. I came out the other end of that tunnel with the name 'Wild Miles'. Most people die doing what I did.
My lifestyle has been in the news in Alaska magazine 5 times, GEO magazine in Europe, The New York Times, the cover of Ruralite, and more then I can recall. I say, 'famous', but this is a double edge sword.
My writing
I have read about every book ever written on the wilderness and it's people. All the mountain men and explorers were read about. All the how to books studied. Thousands of books over the years. I used to average reading a book every three days. Every outdoor Walt Disney movie memorized. I was not prepared in the least. Not one book told it like it was, the truth.
I flunked English is school. I was busy writing letters to girlfriends. 500 to 700 pages. No one told me that's called English and writing. I feel I could express myself through the written word, but lacked the formal rules needing to be followed. I had little to write about as subject material until I had some life experiences in the wilds. My series begins with 'Going Wild' started when I was about 18 and took 20 years to complete writing on notebook pap3er before the days of the internet. I began the first book with the dream. The books are not memoirs, but written at the time it is happening and has taken a lifetime to write the series. .
All my books are a series, written in chronological order following my life as I get dropped off into the wilderness at 21, through being a senior 5-6 books later. The series begins in 1972, when I came to Alaska with the dream of being a mountain-man – trapper. The dream changes as I ‘grow up.’ Who among us sees the the same at 65 as they did at 5, 18, 30, 45? I fall through the ice, and face sixty below zero. International headlines are made when I am rescued, then go back out to build a houseboat I live in for 25 years. Sled dog is my only transportation for many years, I still do not drive. Over 200 miles of trail is cut by hand for trapping, along with a dozen cabins. I acquire 4 homesteads. I kill bears point blank, and depend on getting a moose each year. ‘Off the gird’ is putting it mildly. I go eight months without seeing another human being. For Twenty years, No ID, no bank account, no rent, no bills, no address.
All my writing is about 'survival.' My view of what survival means changes as I grow. At first I believed survival is the ability to build a fire, like in Jack London stories. As I lived the life, I began to see we must be happy to survive in the long haul. Man is a social being, so we must get along with others well enough to stay alive, for the herd will hang you if you get to far outside the box. Survival also has much to do with 'being ahead' prepared, as well as realistic. Survival in civilization has many of the same rules as survival in the wilds! Like, understand your environment.
My art
II was recognized as an artist at 5 years old. The bottom line might be "Big deal!" Art was a subject in school one took to avoid getting educated, such as gym, recess, study hall, shop. "What are you going to do for a living?" Parents and teachers asked. I simply did my art anyway. Artists tend not to wonder how they will get paid. I did drawings in school and sold them to peers. The guys wanted naked women. Certainly not birds and flowers, my favorite subject. After a time in Alaska, after I had a few close encounters of the 3rd kind with bears, I earned the right to be an artist, as no one would dare suggest I was a pussy. In truth the life in the wilds is a rough life surrounded by rough people. Being an artist was no way to keep your trap line or not get rolled. My first understanding I was an artist and might pay bills was when I fixed up a broken pistol with hand carved grips,, and someone paid me more then a new gun cost to have this ruger Blackhawk 357. The lights came on. This was about 1978. I began to do my art, but for decade had no electricity. This made it hard to compete, since the art took longer to make by hand. However over time I learned some skills, only learned slowly when done by hand. I was alone in the wilds, worked under no one, so developed my own methods and style. Over time my style became recognized and distinct. I began doing shows in galleries in Fairbanks, then eventfully in Tucson at the biggest show in the world. My mother lives there so I saw her and did the big fossil gem show. The rest, is history. The full story is my book series.
Raw materials
While I lived alone in the Alaska wilds I understood I could not come in when I wished for supplies, to get things fixed or to buy art material. I had to learn to make do with what is available off the land.
I did repairs that I was proud of and decorated, like broken guns, shovels ax handles snowshoes etc. This helped teach me how to combine things and make them structurally sound. As an artist I could not afford to get hold of normal craft materials offered in stores so I did wood block print cards. I carved wood, wire wrapped rocks and used hand jewelers saw to cut sheet metal designs. Overlapping this same time I worked summers in my early years as a fire fighter. I got to meet Indians from remote villages I would meet again later when I lived on my houseboat. These friends trusted me and saved, sold me cool stuff off the land for my art work. Antlers teeth claws bones but also rocks, wood burls that I would buy or trade for. I could make a custom knife and trade. I also learned to gather and where to find cool stuff on my travels. It became apparent I was acquiring way more material then I could ever use myself! I knew a lot of artists so traded and sold to them, but also at the big state fair I got known as the man with the cool materials. I traded for other material and then traded for far away exotic goods when at the big Tucson show. I acquired a home in the village of Nenana with 9 buildings I could use for storage so I had plenty of space to stockpile raw materials. I had room for things like 12 foot mammoth tusks, and 100 buckets in 5 gallon pails of rocks. I got on the internet and went world wide. First I got electric in the village! Now I could get things like rock saws drill presses grinders etc. Mostly in trade for art raw materials or knives. I liked to think I had a good business sense and knew how to acquire, wheel and deal. I liked to get seconds or junk, and fix it up so it is worth something. Over time, using these materials myself in my art, I became knowledgeable. I became an expert at spotting fakes, restoration, and such. I worked with museums off and on, was a buyer for a cultural museum and specialized in authentic raw for Natives across the country to do crafts.
Knives
I always needed a good knife but could not afford one. A phrase stuck with me, "A man with a knife is master of 1,000 tasks."
This struck a cord with me, being someone who liked to b e in control of my life and what I could do. Since I was about 10 I wore a hunting knife, even to school. In those days it may have seemed 'odd,' but not dangerous. I practiced throwing knives as a childhood pastime. I learned how to sharpen them. I got used to all their uses and functions and shapes. In Alaska I would buy kit knives easy to put together but would add my metal art to the handles. I was able to make some money. Blade work eluded me and I got discouraged by my first try and gave up for many years. It was a long slow process to work the steel. I never had the right equipment.. However I learned a lot about steel, what it can do and not do, with all the variations offered. Years go by! Getting electricity helped a lot. I began cutting the pattern out with a torch, but this creates a lot of work! Aa huge step for me was discovering a portable slow speed hand held band saw, usually used for cutting angle iron. I hose clamped it to a upright beam and found it cuts knife steel like butter. With the internet I could google for answers and watch video. It took a few years to get good enough to b e noticed. I knew how to draw well so drawing in wax one chance no room to do it again was fine with me, I got good at acid etching. Possibly one of the best in the country. This is one thing my knives are known for. Here gain, like my art. my knives have a look no other maker has. I design and cast my own guards and pommels, do my own heat treat, and come up with interesting handle material, often never before tried. Based on years of past knowledge of what can be put together and how to do it so it holds up , from the days of necessity, now artist. Link too new product line concept Phoenix and Swan
I was born in Hawaii in 52, while my father was in the military. We moved almost every year throughout my childhood. California, Cleveland, Syracuse, Media PA are jut a few places. I’d call it upper middle class as my father got schooling , became a college teacher, and ultimately 3 PHD degrees, and dean of a college. I was used to class and respect growing up. My father and I have the same name, I am Miles Walter Martin 111. I did not want to be jut a chip off the old block. I did not want to make it in life because it was handed to me on a silver platter. I did not think I could live up to all my father is, compete with him. I wished to have my own sense of accomplishment. I was in the news for my at when I was 5 years old a paper turkey. It gave me positive attention in my own right. I got various art awards in school. I never though of 'art' as a way to make a living however, till I was much older. My parents has 'issues,' hard upbringings. Dad got divorced, then I saw a few substitute mothers. I always stayed with my father, which was unusual in the 50's. Possibly family stuff to forget, get away from that had me in a fantasy world of pretend. Being an artist was not cool at the time, no art heroes to look up to. I chose the heroes to admire from TV. Daniel Boone, Davy Crocket, "King of the wild frontier" sung at the beginning of each episode. Black powder rifle, tossing a tomahawk. Wow! I did not do well early on in school maybe due to problems at home and moving a lot. Lucky for me I did well when it mattered in high school proving no, I was not stupid, maybe just tweaked. tried to turn 'tweaked,' into a asset instead of a liability. Doing things on my own in a different way. Little of my education has been formal nor stands out in any way. I could have gone to college free and chose not to, chose instead a harsh wilderness life. Hard to know why. A product of the hippie baby boomer 60's, tune and and drop out generation? But without the drugs. Denounce caplitaism and join a commune? But for me the mountain man alone life? I never noticed any distain for money or capitalism I am aware of. I did feel I don't wish to make money my God. Dad got all this status and money but did not seem happy. He had his boat at a dock he never had time to sail. A shop full of clean tools he never used. I'm aware of wanting to be a garbage man as a first job. I had a neighbor girl I envied who had a father who dumpster dove. He'd come home, and the whole family was so glad to see him, go through what kind of cool stuff he found at the dump today. So glad to see him. I felt admired such a happy family. I myself thought his stuff was cool. The whole idea of repurposing recycling 'saving the planet,' not being such consumers appealed to the rebellious age of such fast advancements getting ahead of us. To this day my mother recalls telling me, "Don't tell your father!" I can only assume a lot of secrets, not being understood. Yet at the same time, gifted, intelligent. My father did teach me how to be a free thinker and how to get accurate information, as well as to be open minded. I developed good work ethics, and being healthy. Our home always had professors, students for other countries. I was exposed to a variety of foods from around the world, a variety of life choices, forms of government, various kinds of money. One step mother was into fine art and culture. I was exposed to the wildlife work of Audubon for example. She was also directly related to the famous western writer, Zane Gray. Her father, a Zane, used to baby sit me. He was a woodworker, and famous photographer. I took up photography at a very young age, developed my own film by the age of 12. A card Company wanted my pictures at the age of 13. My paintings were hanging in the hall of the university my father taught at when I was 14. It seemed at the time none of this mattered because what stood out was my being odd. At least for the environment I was in. I end up believing in destiny, a path some are destined for that must be fulfilled. Even a past life. That would explain a lot. Be the simple pat answer.
First job I always worked, but did not think of it as work. I had a paper route, mowed lawns, picked weeds, polished the neighbors silver. My first serious job was at 15 when I went across country to work on a ranch for a summer, having been raised in suburbs in college towns. I liked the physical work. At 16 I got permission to join the Navy during the Viet am war so I would not be drafted. I got out after the war and had some savings and skills. I had no place to go when I got out so moved into the wilderness and ended up homesteading at 22 and moving along with my art and writing. Partly my new different lifestyle gave me something to say through my art and words and even later with access to wilderness raw materials.
When I arrived in Alaska
I was called an educated idiot. I said "Gosh golly, are you a for real trapper? Let me shake your hand. I want to be like you some day!" "Get away from me kid, ya bother me" I was hungry for a role model, but all I had were my books. I was a troubled, even dangerous child. My story could have easily ended 'In Cold Blood'. Joined up with a Charles Manson type. Everything was everyone else's fault. Going into the wild I called at the time 'my walk about.' The time in a child's life among primitive people when you see what you are made of, go out by yourself, and come back a man. A vision quest, where you come back after an ordeal, and the village shaman gives you a new name. A process I feel is missing in civilization. I came out the other end of that tunnel with the name 'Wild Miles'. Most people die doing what I did.
My lifestyle has been in the news in Alaska magazine 5 times, GEO magazine in Europe, The New York Times, the cover of Ruralite, and more then I can recall. I say, 'famous', but this is a double edge sword.
My writing
I have read about every book ever written on the wilderness and it's people. All the mountain men and explorers were read about. All the how to books studied. Thousands of books over the years. I used to average reading a book every three days. Every outdoor Walt Disney movie memorized. I was not prepared in the least. Not one book told it like it was, the truth.
I flunked English is school. I was busy writing letters to girlfriends. 500 to 700 pages. No one told me that's called English and writing. I feel I could express myself through the written word, but lacked the formal rules needing to be followed. I had little to write about as subject material until I had some life experiences in the wilds. My series begins with 'Going Wild' started when I was about 18 and took 20 years to complete writing on notebook pap3er before the days of the internet. I began the first book with the dream. The books are not memoirs, but written at the time it is happening and has taken a lifetime to write the series. .
All my books are a series, written in chronological order following my life as I get dropped off into the wilderness at 21, through being a senior 5-6 books later. The series begins in 1972, when I came to Alaska with the dream of being a mountain-man – trapper. The dream changes as I ‘grow up.’ Who among us sees the the same at 65 as they did at 5, 18, 30, 45? I fall through the ice, and face sixty below zero. International headlines are made when I am rescued, then go back out to build a houseboat I live in for 25 years. Sled dog is my only transportation for many years, I still do not drive. Over 200 miles of trail is cut by hand for trapping, along with a dozen cabins. I acquire 4 homesteads. I kill bears point blank, and depend on getting a moose each year. ‘Off the gird’ is putting it mildly. I go eight months without seeing another human being. For Twenty years, No ID, no bank account, no rent, no bills, no address.
All my writing is about 'survival.' My view of what survival means changes as I grow. At first I believed survival is the ability to build a fire, like in Jack London stories. As I lived the life, I began to see we must be happy to survive in the long haul. Man is a social being, so we must get along with others well enough to stay alive, for the herd will hang you if you get to far outside the box. Survival also has much to do with 'being ahead' prepared, as well as realistic. Survival in civilization has many of the same rules as survival in the wilds! Like, understand your environment.
My art
II was recognized as an artist at 5 years old. The bottom line might be "Big deal!" Art was a subject in school one took to avoid getting educated, such as gym, recess, study hall, shop. "What are you going to do for a living?" Parents and teachers asked. I simply did my art anyway. Artists tend not to wonder how they will get paid. I did drawings in school and sold them to peers. The guys wanted naked women. Certainly not birds and flowers, my favorite subject. After a time in Alaska, after I had a few close encounters of the 3rd kind with bears, I earned the right to be an artist, as no one would dare suggest I was a pussy. In truth the life in the wilds is a rough life surrounded by rough people. Being an artist was no way to keep your trap line or not get rolled. My first understanding I was an artist and might pay bills was when I fixed up a broken pistol with hand carved grips,, and someone paid me more then a new gun cost to have this ruger Blackhawk 357. The lights came on. This was about 1978. I began to do my art, but for decade had no electricity. This made it hard to compete, since the art took longer to make by hand. However over time I learned some skills, only learned slowly when done by hand. I was alone in the wilds, worked under no one, so developed my own methods and style. Over time my style became recognized and distinct. I began doing shows in galleries in Fairbanks, then eventfully in Tucson at the biggest show in the world. My mother lives there so I saw her and did the big fossil gem show. The rest, is history. The full story is my book series.
Raw materials
While I lived alone in the Alaska wilds I understood I could not come in when I wished for supplies, to get things fixed or to buy art material. I had to learn to make do with what is available off the land.
I did repairs that I was proud of and decorated, like broken guns, shovels ax handles snowshoes etc. This helped teach me how to combine things and make them structurally sound. As an artist I could not afford to get hold of normal craft materials offered in stores so I did wood block print cards. I carved wood, wire wrapped rocks and used hand jewelers saw to cut sheet metal designs. Overlapping this same time I worked summers in my early years as a fire fighter. I got to meet Indians from remote villages I would meet again later when I lived on my houseboat. These friends trusted me and saved, sold me cool stuff off the land for my art work. Antlers teeth claws bones but also rocks, wood burls that I would buy or trade for. I could make a custom knife and trade. I also learned to gather and where to find cool stuff on my travels. It became apparent I was acquiring way more material then I could ever use myself! I knew a lot of artists so traded and sold to them, but also at the big state fair I got known as the man with the cool materials. I traded for other material and then traded for far away exotic goods when at the big Tucson show. I acquired a home in the village of Nenana with 9 buildings I could use for storage so I had plenty of space to stockpile raw materials. I had room for things like 12 foot mammoth tusks, and 100 buckets in 5 gallon pails of rocks. I got on the internet and went world wide. First I got electric in the village! Now I could get things like rock saws drill presses grinders etc. Mostly in trade for art raw materials or knives. I liked to think I had a good business sense and knew how to acquire, wheel and deal. I liked to get seconds or junk, and fix it up so it is worth something. Over time, using these materials myself in my art, I became knowledgeable. I became an expert at spotting fakes, restoration, and such. I worked with museums off and on, was a buyer for a cultural museum and specialized in authentic raw for Natives across the country to do crafts.
Knives
I always needed a good knife but could not afford one. A phrase stuck with me, "A man with a knife is master of 1,000 tasks."
This struck a cord with me, being someone who liked to b e in control of my life and what I could do. Since I was about 10 I wore a hunting knife, even to school. In those days it may have seemed 'odd,' but not dangerous. I practiced throwing knives as a childhood pastime. I learned how to sharpen them. I got used to all their uses and functions and shapes. In Alaska I would buy kit knives easy to put together but would add my metal art to the handles. I was able to make some money. Blade work eluded me and I got discouraged by my first try and gave up for many years. It was a long slow process to work the steel. I never had the right equipment.. However I learned a lot about steel, what it can do and not do, with all the variations offered. Years go by! Getting electricity helped a lot. I began cutting the pattern out with a torch, but this creates a lot of work! Aa huge step for me was discovering a portable slow speed hand held band saw, usually used for cutting angle iron. I hose clamped it to a upright beam and found it cuts knife steel like butter. With the internet I could google for answers and watch video. It took a few years to get good enough to b e noticed. I knew how to draw well so drawing in wax one chance no room to do it again was fine with me, I got good at acid etching. Possibly one of the best in the country. This is one thing my knives are known for. Here gain, like my art. my knives have a look no other maker has. I design and cast my own guards and pommels, do my own heat treat, and come up with interesting handle material, often never before tried. Based on years of past knowledge of what can be put together and how to do it so it holds up , from the days of necessity, now artist. Link too new product line concept Phoenix and Swan
Welcome to Miles world. Here is the gate!
Compliments, customer letters
Good morning, Miles!
I thank you for the update! Great news! You have no idea how many times I have read and re-read the first two books.]
If it is OK with you, I will send you a Money Order (in US funds) ASAP.
My present mailing address is
Dave edited out Box 1, edited out Alberta
Canada, T0B 2M0
Both you and I have been stung badly by trusting people, Anyway- Am very glad to hear of Volume #3 being out. You are about the only one that I know of who has written intelligently about "the vexations of being a bush rat" in an era when "Big Brother" is doing all that he can to stomp out the lifestyle!
All the best to you!
Dave
VENTEICHER, Dennis [Dennis.VENTEICHER@treasurer.edited out
I received your book yesterday Someone is looking out for you Miles, as I am sure you figured out already from the portion I read last night. You kept me up an extra hour and a half last evening but I finally had to put it down and get some sleep as I get up at 0330.
Dear Miles,
During our stay at Denali West Lodge, I bought a copy of “Going Wild.” I just finished reading it and really, really enjoyed reading of all your experiences. I’d appreciate you letting me know when a copy of “Gone Wild” is available. I’d love to read more. All my best to you and thanks for sharing your story!
Darrell
Greetings Miles,
Well I finally got to read your book. I started it two days ago & couldn't put it down. Last book I found that compelling was Jaws. You're in good company with Peter Benchley.
I would have loved to seen the first moose harvest. 22 mag was quite exciting. I've seen film of a poor shot shooting one @ 60yrds. w/ a 7mm Mag six times before the guide stepped in to finish him. Just getting that close must have been a mind boggler.
I've loved the outdoors all my life and your book shed new light on it's charm and danger. There are so many parts that I wanted to experience but as you put it civilization is VERY tuff to leave for most.
Thanks much for sharing this part of your life. I look forward to the next book, Going Wild. Please put me on the list for one upon release.
In Awe,
Tom Holstein
P.S. I see you used my Gold Cup Pistol w/ the Mastodon grips on your website........thanks! I'm try to save some $$$ to buy one of your better knives. They're beautiful.
Hi Miles,
My Dad just finished your book and would like to order the sequel, Gone Wild. Do you have one available and how much is it? Thanks, Kelli Ellis (Temecula, California)
P.S. We will be passing around your book through our family Dad really enjoyed it.
Miles-
"Happy Birthday !" ...(a day early). And- relax; "I ain't queer"; just remembered the date from your book, which I have enjoyed IMMENSELY.
Anyway- as I said above- I have enjoyed your book immensely; reread it several times, and laughed all the way through it. The parallels between our lives are amusing; from you keeping a little book on "wilderness skills" when you were a kid, dreaming about the north, (I called mine "Woodcraft"!), to being fascinated by the "mountain men"; (William Sherley "Old Bill" Williams was my hero), to actually "doing it"; (ie- "Go Wild")... Except- you were obviously smarter than I was; you had the guts to do it at a much earlier age; I spent far too many years "preparing" for such.
Your tales about your "search for love" amused me greatly- I never ever advertised for a companion; just "pissed and moaned" a lot about not being able to find one!
You mentioned the "Howling Dog Saloon". The only one that I know is in Fox; a few miles north of Fairbanks, not Ester, west of Fairbanks. I spent some time there a few years ago, totally in love with a "Laura" somebody-or-other who worked there. It all "came to naught", however. (Unfortunately, I am a Canadian citizen, and have tried for years to get a "Green Card" so I can stay in Alaska for more than 6 months at a time. I went to the University of Portland, (Oregon), 40+ years ago, and I could have had one just for asking for one then. But now, it is almost impossible to get one. (Unless one can find an American female who will "walze down the isle" with you, and I never seemed to get the hang of male-female relationships, especially of that sort!))
Anyway- let me know when your next book is available!
Cheers!
Dave edited out (aka- "The Hess River Hermit")
PS- Did you ever read any of Robert Services poetry? (Some call it "dogerel). One of his poems I especially "identify" with- "The Men That Don't Fit In"...
Good morning, Miles!
I thank you for the update! Great news! You have no idea how many times I have read and re-read the first two books.]
If it is OK with you, I will send you a Money Order (in US funds) ASAP.
My present mailing address is
Dave edited out Box 1, edited out Alberta
Canada, T0B 2M0
Both you and I have been stung badly by trusting people, Anyway- Am very glad to hear of Volume #3 being out. You are about the only one that I know of who has written intelligently about "the vexations of being a bush rat" in an era when "Big Brother" is doing all that he can to stomp out the lifestyle!
All the best to you!
Dave
VENTEICHER, Dennis [Dennis.VENTEICHER@treasurer.edited out
I received your book yesterday Someone is looking out for you Miles, as I am sure you figured out already from the portion I read last night. You kept me up an extra hour and a half last evening but I finally had to put it down and get some sleep as I get up at 0330.
Dear Miles,
During our stay at Denali West Lodge, I bought a copy of “Going Wild.” I just finished reading it and really, really enjoyed reading of all your experiences. I’d appreciate you letting me know when a copy of “Gone Wild” is available. I’d love to read more. All my best to you and thanks for sharing your story!
Darrell
Greetings Miles,
Well I finally got to read your book. I started it two days ago & couldn't put it down. Last book I found that compelling was Jaws. You're in good company with Peter Benchley.
I would have loved to seen the first moose harvest. 22 mag was quite exciting. I've seen film of a poor shot shooting one @ 60yrds. w/ a 7mm Mag six times before the guide stepped in to finish him. Just getting that close must have been a mind boggler.
I've loved the outdoors all my life and your book shed new light on it's charm and danger. There are so many parts that I wanted to experience but as you put it civilization is VERY tuff to leave for most.
Thanks much for sharing this part of your life. I look forward to the next book, Going Wild. Please put me on the list for one upon release.
In Awe,
Tom Holstein
P.S. I see you used my Gold Cup Pistol w/ the Mastodon grips on your website........thanks! I'm try to save some $$$ to buy one of your better knives. They're beautiful.
Hi Miles,
My Dad just finished your book and would like to order the sequel, Gone Wild. Do you have one available and how much is it? Thanks, Kelli Ellis (Temecula, California)
P.S. We will be passing around your book through our family Dad really enjoyed it.
Miles-
"Happy Birthday !" ...(a day early). And- relax; "I ain't queer"; just remembered the date from your book, which I have enjoyed IMMENSELY.
Anyway- as I said above- I have enjoyed your book immensely; reread it several times, and laughed all the way through it. The parallels between our lives are amusing; from you keeping a little book on "wilderness skills" when you were a kid, dreaming about the north, (I called mine "Woodcraft"!), to being fascinated by the "mountain men"; (William Sherley "Old Bill" Williams was my hero), to actually "doing it"; (ie- "Go Wild")... Except- you were obviously smarter than I was; you had the guts to do it at a much earlier age; I spent far too many years "preparing" for such.
Your tales about your "search for love" amused me greatly- I never ever advertised for a companion; just "pissed and moaned" a lot about not being able to find one!
You mentioned the "Howling Dog Saloon". The only one that I know is in Fox; a few miles north of Fairbanks, not Ester, west of Fairbanks. I spent some time there a few years ago, totally in love with a "Laura" somebody-or-other who worked there. It all "came to naught", however. (Unfortunately, I am a Canadian citizen, and have tried for years to get a "Green Card" so I can stay in Alaska for more than 6 months at a time. I went to the University of Portland, (Oregon), 40+ years ago, and I could have had one just for asking for one then. But now, it is almost impossible to get one. (Unless one can find an American female who will "walze down the isle" with you, and I never seemed to get the hang of male-female relationships, especially of that sort!))
Anyway- let me know when your next book is available!
Cheers!
Dave edited out (aka- "The Hess River Hermit")
PS- Did you ever read any of Robert Services poetry? (Some call it "dogerel). One of his poems I especially "identify" with- "The Men That Don't Fit In"...