Flottop Mountain

At last, Katherine and I, along with half of Anchorage (which is 1/4 of Alaska), climbed the most hiked mountain in Alaska, Flattop Mountain. The last 200 yards were solid rock and nearly vertical. One of the many things I loved about being a child was that I never over thought things. I climbed trees and danced on limbs high above the ground blissfully unaware of fear. Ten years later, 50 feet from the top of Flottop, fear crept in. Normally, this is called rock climbing and people don helmets and harnesses. Pausing momentarily, I gathered my will, dismissed my mind and ascended as nimbly and safely as possible. From the summit, we stood with almost 30 other people watching a paraglider jerk his chute into the wind and leap off the edge. What a thrilling way to descend. As we watched, a fellow climber told us that in the early spring, people ascend Flattop to slide the 3,000 feet down on a chute of hardened snow. Unfortunately, there was neither a paraglider nor an icy slide available. We had to go down the way we came up.

Even Philly makes philly jokes

Happy Samwise. He retrieved his elvish rope. As Sam and Frodo discussed the mysteries of their magic gift from the CD player, I glanced to the bottom left of my computer screen. 2:28! that means it's only been 7 minutes since I last looked. Weston made another Philly joke. We all make Philly jokes. Even Philly makes Philly jokes. I like peeking over the cubicle after an especially good Philly joke (these ones are typically contrived by Philly) to see a smile spread timidly over his generally jaded expression, brightening his tanned face with a contagious glow.


Philly the funny filer joke:
(hidden camera. Just listen)

I am thankful for mine.

Because I cherish self-reliance and delight in adventure, the emotional tremor experienced upon parting from family baffles me. Though tired, the three of us wore smiles as we hugged, exchanging thank-yous and well-wishes for little more than a minute. As I left Gram and Aunt Betty at the hotel with memories of sunshine, pictures of whales, and heavy eyelids, I became aware of a great sense of loss. They are only returning to the lower 48. Yet my full heart suddenly felt strained. Upon looking into the blushing sky, I yearned to join my aching heart with the dancing violets and pinks behind the houses and trees. If only the trees and houses weren't there. I'll have to find the clearing Lyn took as to a few nights ago. There, I can silently pour out my heart in the warmth of the waning sun and empty all emotion into the passion of the breath-taking colors. Unfortunately, my clock and weary limbs convinced my hands to keep the wheels on course for Lyn and Stuart's house.
I knew I missed the most beautiful sunset and an opportunity to sit with the God.
Wednesday was our day together. Gram, her sister Betty and I rode to Seward on the Alaska Railroad. We prayed for several things. First, we had prayed for an open seat on the plane for Gram. After two days in the airport, she made the last flight. Secondly, we prayed for good weather and train tickets. Wednesday morning at 6:30 AM the clouds parted completely and the sun shone with invigorating warmth as we boarded car A. Thirdly, we asked that we might see whales and puffins on the boat tour in Seward.

Killer Whales. Not a common sight.

Puffins!

If you have a grandmother, treasure her. God rarely puts a Gram in our lives. I am thankful for mine.

Betty and Gram

Rockin'

I am in the midst of one of the busiest weeks of my summer. Even So You Think You Can Dance is cast into time's shadows. Julie occupies the blue room, my grandmother and her sister returned to Seattle this afternoon, and George and Betsy Montague remain visitors until Saturday. The introduction of fresh, eager feet from the lower 48 increased the demand of the two cars until my size 7 feet were left to find their own way to work. Too tired to bike or bus to work, Katherine and I implored coworker Weston for seats in his car.
Every night I ask Weston for a ride, I am assured of two things the next morning: 1) I will arrive between 5-11 minutes late to work. 2) when I arrive, my hair will hold frizz and my ears unable to comprehend anything less than shouting.
7:46 AM, Weston
"here"
7:46.5 AM, Emily
"there"
A minute behind Katherine, I balanced Wuthering Hights, an apple, and my coffee mug to Weston's late Honda Civic. I felt the throbbing car before I saw it. Instead of reaching the office with a scowl, I always step out of his subwoofing car giggling. My back vibrates at various intensities throughout the ride as I, and the cars  around us, listen to one of the following songs (along with half a dozen synonymous beats and uplifting phraseology)
"Little Bad Girl"
"Party Rock Anthem"

"Party Rock" is also the official National Dance Day song. Although currently unpracticed, Katherine and I ventured one workout/practice session attempting to learn the dance. 

  Try it.

Fresh and Spoiled

I had to get up. Sitting sandwiched on the seat in the cabin was not helping my lurching stomach. On the way to the bathroom I asked the captain, theoretically, what helps seasickness? He told me not to go into the bathroom.
"Eat the ginger snaps above the toilet."
No thanks.
"Stare out to the horizon."
I cant see it.
"Dont think about it."
Right. Aye aye Cap'n.

It's a terrible feeling, falling sick and realizing the cure is speeding away behind you. No matter how much you heave and hurl Aunt Lyn's banana bread, the boat is not going back for 5 more hours. Many stomachs turned inside out that morning. Not even my nostrils escaped the burn of stomach fluids and hour old breakfast. Fortunately, after 2 hours, a turn at the trashcan, and a dramamine, I was able to catch 4 halibut, keeping 2. I baked fresh filets tonight for dinner. More than the creamy color of the fish and the fresh flavor of the halibut, the pleasure of catching my dinner wholly satisfied. I had hoped that I would leave Alaska with an acquired taste for fish. Now I think I will leave Alaska with an acquired taste for fresh fish. In other words, I will continue to order chicken when fish is offered at restaurants in the lower 48.

We camped with our 3 BP Intern friends on the Spit.

Took a boat out of Homer for the halibut.

Lost in a Book

Megs and I matched today.

Over the past 48 hours, I spent 16 hours at the office listening to The Fellowship of the Ring. Three of the 16 disks remain. Neither Katherine nor I have ever completed The Fellowship of the Ring, though both of us have attempted numerous times. By four o'clock tomorrow, I will be able to say I have read Tolkien's stunning trilogy. Embarrassingly, I struggled to fight back tears while typing "Earnest Oldman" into the 6 AM Tundra Wilderness Tour as Frodo grieved, "I wish it need not have happened in my time."

"Can you imagine?!" I exclaimed to my coworkers when Frodo offered to bear the ring to its destruction, and probably his own.
Foolish, Emily (I chided myself). This isn't real, remember?

A well written book coupled with uninterrupted time leaves me lost in the crafted world. Sometimes hours pass before I rouse myself and realize I have been staring at pages and letters, not sitting under a tree laughing at Gulliver as he passed by, trotting in poor imitation of the Houyhnhnm beside him.
Other books that have stolen my mind this summer…

Stowe's Uncle Tom's Cabin
Hemingway's A Moveable Feast
Swift's Gulliver's Travels


Current selections: Fellowship of the Ring and Hemingway's The Sun Also Rises
Next on the list: The Hobbit on CD and Fitzgerald's The Great Gatsby

Constant light, not constant sun.

Texas

Alaska

I stepped outside to stand under a sign reading Alaska Air and waited for my cousin Travis. 85 degree air soaked through my skin, breathing a smile into my face. Texas. Why do I love it so much?
Travis and I had Tex-Mex for dinner. 
By 2 o'clock the next day I had applied for my VISA, solidifying next semester in Paris, and lay on a matt in the pool with a Chihuahua lounging on my back, both of us drowsy and content. I paused from Hemingway's A Moveable Feast, to reassure the little pup of his cuteness, thinking again about Texas.  It's hot, the people are loud, the land is scraggly and flat. But I am a Texan. The terrain possesses a wild, defiant beauty, the people are handy and happy, and the sun is always shining. I've found that constant light in Alaska does not necessitate cloudless skies 24/7.

After a frantic day of cleaning, Katherine and I moved downstairs into our own basement room, complete with individual closet space and separate beds specifically for our use. I spent 10 hours sleeping in it last night before waking up for a refreshing 60 degree run under, yes, a cloudy sky. My afternoon was spent in Kaladi Brothers with a warm beverage, pastry, and bowl of tomato and blue cheese soup.  Reading another of Hemingway's works, I am surprised at the frequency of the Parisian characters' visits to cafés, even the poorer sort. It inspired this afternoon of coffee and writing. Now I am at the house. Maybe the weather will cheer up enough to lure us on a hike up Flattop Mountain but I think the lazy day will continue 'till bed.

4 July 2011

Olympians Kikin and Holly lead the women.

The spitting rain continued. My pack was recently relocated beneath the cover of a meagre canopy flown to the top of the mountain along with the water and timing equipment necessary for refreshing the runners and clocking their times before they hurled down the shale covered side of Seward Alaska's Mount Marathon. As I passed the American flag wedged between rocks and returned from the useless tent to the natural shelter and warm bodies, I remembered the date was July 4. I lay myself down again beside Aunt Lyn and Katherine. We found that by lying close together in this grassy depression we were hidden from the wind and could maintain a comfortable body temperature. My rain jacket and Stuart's rain pants were enough to keep me dry. This is very different from any 4th of July I've ever had. And as I drifted off to sleep once more, recollections of fireworks, bike rides, splash contests, hot dogs, the Johnsons, the smell of sunblock, the pealing sunburn, and red paper streamers, marched through my memory like the rowdy parade that rode through my neighborhood every year. 
By the time a fellow volunteer yelled "five minutes 'till the men's race starts!" I had forgotten the day and rushed passed the limp flag to the edge of the peak, clutching my camera deep within my pocket away from the cold.
I remembered Independence Day again when, later that night, desperate fireworks strained against the sun's light though the clock told midnight.

The race ran only 1.5 miles before the turn around point and halfway mark at Mount Marathon's peak. However, in 1.5 miles, they experienced a 3,022 foot elevation change.

The Alaskan State Bird

I drove Mom through the rain to the airport early this morning. While she visited we rode bikes, helped at the zoo, ate her fried chicken, visited the market, and spent some days in Denali National Park. Katherine, Megs, Taylor (Megs' friend), Mom and I piled into Mr Megs' black four-door pickup and roared off to Denali, leaving the boys to take care of things at the office, again.
It rained during the 4 hr drive up but upon arrival at Black Diamond ATV Tours, we no longer begrudged the rain his time. As I drove Katherine through the mud, slid around curves and across puddles sending clouds of steam between our seats and into our faces, I smiled at the rain. Megs, who drove behind us with Taylor, said we got air at one point. The next morning, Mom, Megs and Taylor hopped on the TWT (Tundra Wilderness Tour) while Katherine and I, having already experienced that invigorating 6-8 hour bus ride into the park, rode a shuttle bus an hour in before hopping off. Katherine and I set out to conquer a peak.
It was not what it seemed.

We discovered that the green we saw on the hillsides and in the valleys was not a result of the light reflecting off of grass but of light reflecting off of various kinds of mosses and bushes covering the tundra floor. No grass. Every step across the soft spongy ground was like walking on an elliptical, avoidable only by walking on knee-waist high bushes or wading through various pools of water. Furthermore, we could not rest or closely examine the flowers, foot prints or animal dung because of the Alaskan state bird: the mosquito. I packed Hemingway, a banana, a Zone bar and a leftover piece of pizza hoping to nourish my mind and body as well as my soul with the beautiful sights. Alas, I was not willing to pay the price of 10,000 mosquito bites and the chance of catching a life threatening disease. When Katherine and I paused on the top of Poop Peak, as I called it, the irritants flocked to us from every corner of the valley below.
While maintaining my body movement to a constant twitch, I took a picture of Katherine on what we figured from our vantage point to be a sizable little mountain, then immediately retraced our steps to the road and firm ground. As the need to rest increased, I began imagining maniacal mosquitos wielding whips driving me on. Not soon enough, we reached the road and our shuttle bus to the hotel.
Sadly, I looked back and realized we had not climbed a large peak or even a small peak. The point we had groped up to on our hands and knees was only a little hill.

I'm glad Mom enjoyed herself on the TWT.

Next time I dare journey into Alaskan wilderness, I will take mosquito repellent.
Next time I decide to hike a mountain, I will ask a guide for advice.
Next time I want to read a book, I will satisfy myself with a position on the couch.