Me? I live in Alaska for a reason. Well, several. This is the place where you can be yourself, and you can pursue your passions. It's weird but here, if you're killed while doing so, you take on an almost heroic mantle. There are no commonly accepted limits to what can, or cannot be done. Go Big, or Go Home ... if you can talk the talk and then back it up... men will buy you beers until the day you die.
We are *fiercely* independent here, and we enjoy camaraderie. Sometimes we just want to be left the hell alone. Other times it's right to get your friends together around a fire and share a few beers, and chances are nobody will say a word. Out loud..... lots is still being "said".
So in that environment, what are my hobbies? Anything that's BIG, solitary, cold, tall or distant. Anything with barely controllable power in it. So you'll find me on a weekend sleeping in a snow cave when it's cold. The colder the better. Or riding the mtn bike down ridiculous terrain. Or backcountry XC skiing alone in the shadows with the bad sounds.... wolves, creaking ice, crunching frost, heavy close by breathing from something hairy and toothy. Playing hockey on a glacier lake. Hiking with the dog up something in time to catch sundown from the summit. Playing my Martin on the deck at midnight with a nice single malt. Teaching a kid how to do pond hockey and to shun playing with boards. Carving hunks of cottonwood bark into ridiculous sitting dogs. Sneaking up on a sweet fishing hole and enticing a fish smarter than myself to bite something. Living by wits, and respecting the memory of someone who didn't quite have it one day.
Read the poem "Call of the Wild" by Robert Service, and that will explain it better.