live in Alaska: check

Seven days ago I was in Anchorage, Alaska. In 23 hours, I will be in Paris, France. Consequently anxious and engaged preparing, little thought has been spared to reflect on my summer. Before I finish here, I would like to add one more comment to the musings of the last post. Is there a country, city, river or mountain range that has always fascinated you? Go to it. But dont visit, live there, work there. If an opportunity opens, run through that door as fast as you can because few open and they close fast.
My head is full, not because the storage space is overcrowded but because of the chaos created by so many thoughts frantically scrambling to compose myself for France. Since I am unable to think clearly, here are some facts, a list of things that I checked off my bucket list this past summer in Alaska.

1. Blueberry and raspberry picking
2. Flew in a tiny plane
3. Ate meals in a dining car
4. Lived in Alaska
5. Worked a cubicle job (may abject to doing this again because I know it will never be as fun. Moreover, sitting all day leaves me feeling like a slug)
6. Met a sled dog team
7. Camped on the beach
8. Fileted a fish
9. Enjoyed a meal of fish
10. Cooked my catch and enjoyed it
11. Made candied pecans
12. Rowed a raft down a river
13. Visited Denali National Park
14. Hiked through certified wilderness
15. Saw Mount Mckinley
16. Experienced day light at midnight
17. Mountain biked
18. Became a regular at a coffee shop
19. Rode the bus to work 
20. Biked to work
21. Rode in a helicopter
22. Kept a blog
23. Saw bald eagles (zoos dont count)
24. Watched an Alaskan Sunset
25. Saw a volcano
26. Read and reread books from my reading list
27. Tested and strengthened my cooking skills
28. Ate a flower
29. Ate wild berries not sold in stores
30. Drank directly from a stream
31. Worked a full-time job
32. Made cinemon roles on a stick over a fire
33. Saw Killer Whales and Porcupines

Thanks for reading. Please email me with blog critiques. I will apply them as I blog about Paris.

Favorites

Favorite family Our summer family. Lyn and Stuart couldn’t have been more welcoming to Katherine and I. Without our little family, the summer would have lacked love.

Favorite work moment The smolder. Fortunately, I caught the best one on camera.

Favorite wildflowers Columbine, Snap Dragons and Bluebells. The wildflowers in Alaska grow at incredible speeds and in an abundance of vibrant varieties.

Favorite dog picture

Favorite dog Ozzie from next door. At least twice a day, his shrill voice announced that he and his master Glen were going for a walk. Twice, came to dinner with Glen and Linda. This miniature Shnauzer posseses a unique ability to express his thoughts through a variety of facials expressions.

Favorite trip Difficult, but the bike trip to Seldovia was my favorite, followed closely by July 4^th weekend.

Favorite video This is tough. I might would choose the earlier SNL surprise party video but its difficult to locate so I will say edbassmaster’s snappin' turtle video.

Favorite State When I stepped out of the airport and inhaled Dallas for the first time in 3 months, I was overcome by the spoiled taste of the air. In Anchorage I breathed birch and spruce mingled with Fireweed. Now it's exhaust and cement blended with the smells of people. The Texas heat. Instead of feeling refreshed after a run, I felt wilted after this morning's venture around the lake. We wont discuss the replacement of mountains and flowered medians by highways and brown crunchy yards. BUT, I am a Texan. I will never completely turn my back on my state, even if it appears irrational.

airport air

At last, my blood runs warmly again. Until I found this seat in the sunshine, I either shivered or hung on the edge of shivering from the infamous and inescapable chilling airport air. Lyn texted me. She, Katherine and Beth are making pancakes with the blueberries we picked along the Winner Creek Trail last night. I dont feel as if I’ve left. I’m merely taking a little weekend trip. Katherine will be at the Anchorage airport in a few days to take me back to Lyn and Stuart’s, right? Though my heart struggles to believe it, the cold paper bag of halibut sitting in the shaded seat beside to my right reminds me that those goodbyes were real. In a week, I will start over again…but in French.

The office, minus Philly

My friend Katherine

Katherine and I spent almost every minute of everyday this summer together. Moreover, we were roommates with 2 other girls for the past two years at school. We’ve spent an entire year together without interruption of anything longer than Christmas break. Towards the end of this summer, we often communicated wordlessly because our minds had fused together after constant exposure to one another’s thoughts and habits. It will be strange, maybe lonely, going about my day without someone who understands the references and the laughter that my utterance of “Philly!” is supposed to produce. Though millions of people have viewed the SNL Surprise Party video, laughing at an allusion to it will not be the same without Katherine and Aunt Lyn. And when I ask someone, “did you watch Pants this season?” they will have no idea that I mean So You Think You Can Dance. In one week, I will be on my way to Paris, France where I will know no one, where every kind of reference and joke that I am accustomed to sharing will be lost, even if I could tell it in French. Before I leave for France, I will post a few more times about my imperfect but fantastic summer in Alaska.

Day 90

At 7:47 AM I rose from my bubble gum pink sheets for the last time. Teeth brushed and hair pulled back, I jogged the familiar route along Anchorage's sidewalks for the last time this summer. Now I sit with the best cup of coffee I've ever had in the Midnight Sun Café…last time this summer. When they pulled the tray from the oven, I sweetened my sorrow with a chocolate chip cookie. Tonight, Lyn, Stuart, Beth, Katherine and I are going to Girdwood to pick blueberries and eat at Lyn's choice, Jack Sprat. It will be dark by the time we drive home tonight. Home.

We saw two black bears a couple days ago on our fruitless search for blueberries.

By 2 PM tomorrow, I will be in my one-story red brick home in Dallas surrounded by familiar smells, faces and sounds. Though I become restless thinking about being home again, it is not easy leaving my Alaskan family, the smell of earth and life, and the streets and mountains that have become so familiar to me. I know I will be back.
There are at least four people working behind the small bar at this café. Dishes constantly clang together and the hum of expensive machines continues to challenge the sporadic, clamorous, yet friendly voices of employees and customers. Once, someone told me he found Alaskans ill-natured. I think he decided to dislike Alaska before he arrived. His loss. I have never been in a city with more active citizens and the warmth displayed by these people who are constantly bothered with tourists surprises me. Thank you Anchorage.

Anchorage, AK

we drifted

I got to filet a fish! Butchered it.

Seward was grey. The most exciting thing Beth and I did was hitch-hike. Even so, we thoroughly enjoyed one another's company and the slow stirring of thoughts our conversations produced. We drifted through the small streets, wandered along the docks and lingered the morning away writing in an old chapel, now a coffee shop and art gallery. Katherine joined us in the afternoon.

The Fjords boat tour lead us among sea life to witness Aialik Glacier calving. When the slabs of ice tore from the glacier, a cracking roar resonated through me. Though I still stood, I felt as though I had been knocked down. 

During the return journey, Katherine, Beth and I walked about the boat, remaining for some time at the prow, hugging the rail as best our laughing would allow while the boat plunged violently through a rough portion of the waters. At one point (I was engaged elsewhere), the captain came out and told Beth and Katherine to cease jumping on his deck. We began to lose steam in the last of the 6 hours. I fell asleep with my head on a table. Beth sat outside in the wind somewhere while Katherine leaned back against a chair with droopy eyes.

The rain came again on the train home. By the time Stuart picked us up from the station it felt like winter.

I feel full

After several sunless days of persistant, spitting rain, my dear friend Beth arrived from Carolina with some sunshine. Our first day together involved an evening of grunting, guessing and waiting in Kincaid Park. When we arrived with our bikes to the park, Beth admitted she could not remember the last time she rode a bike. Kind friend that I was, I helped her get on the bike, gave her a crash course on changing gears, then lead her into the hill strewn, root scattered trails. In my defense, I had planned to go on the wider, smoother, grass covered paths. Unfortunately, it was an hour before we found any such trails. 

Moose #1

Moose #3

We spent the first hour skidding down and walking up intermediate-expert trails (the ones labelled "Lake Loop" on the trail map). If a large bull moose had not been lounging beside our path, we would have been stuck looping the loops for another hour. Luckily, we were forced to cut across a small foot path which, to our giggly relief and amazement, lead to the parking lot and the car. But we were not ready to quit. So after watching moose #2 stroll away from the parking lot, we started down a paved path. We soon left the paved path and ventured again into the trails. 30 minutes passed. As I prepared to lunge down another hill, I halted and waved to Beth to do the same. Where the decline met the incline, a bull moose stood complacently chewing ferns. On the slope opposite, a biker barely managed to brake before reaching the moose. We shared frustrations with this fellow until a sudden half-charge from the moose sent the other biker further up the hill on the other side. Beth and I, knowing we were near the parking lot, determined to wait for the moose to cross over and into the woods. Unfortunately, no one told Mr Moose the path he sauntered along was only for bikes. We waited 45 cold minutes before he moved far enough off the path to allow a safe passing. Even then, we were too close. 

Day 2 with Beth.
A leisurely morning preceded a trip to Girdwood. Along the way, we snacked for lunch on the rocky shore of Bird Creek and watched the salmon fishers flick their lines in and out of the silty water. After lunch, it began to rain again. That didn't deter us. We visited the jade shop, as planned, then hiked Winner Trail, as planned. The rain seemed determined to sputter and drip his say into our conversations while we hiked. We ignored him. When we returned to the parking lot and I struggled to unlock the car with my unresponsive, cold hands, I realized that that even though Beth and I had talked ceaselessly throughout the 4 hour hike, there were hours left of hopes, challenges, and joys to discuss and ponder together. A real friend. Our final destination in Girdwood was soup and bread at the Bake Shop. I cant remember the last time I felt so full.

Tomorrow: day 4 with Beth. We will take the first class train to Seward, spend the afternoon hiking a glacier or in the sea-life center and spend the night in a hotel. Katherine will join us Tuesday for a day cruise to see glaciers and whales. Beth doesn't know this yet. I think she will be excited when I tell her to pack tonight :)

Crises Averted

Dont think about it dont think about wwhhOooOOOooOoOo
I laughed the whole way through the section of Kincaid Park called "Roller Coaster." It took an extensive uphill climb to wipe the grin off my warm face.
During my first, brief ride at Kincaid, I used caution down the narrow hills and anxiety often clutched tightly to the brakes. Several weeks later, I peddled enthusiastically behind Aunt Lyn and determined to keep her in sight, even when flying down-hill. If she didnt use her breaks on a down-hill, I wouldn't need to either. And if I could see the next climb ahead, why slow down? The incline will take care of that. With these things in mind, I thoroughly enjoyed myself, especially hurling down the hills. Roller Coaster was my favorite. Long and thrilling, it continued up and down, always down more than up. At one point, the upward slant changed so quickly to a downward slope that my stomach dropped! That really sent me laughing. Unfortunately, I became over confident. A recurrent predicament. Towards the end of our ride, I miss judged a turn at the bottom of a hill and my back wheel began sliding out from under me. Turning and maintaining an upright position were no longer compatible options. It was "either-or." Immediately dismissing the slamming to the ground at top speeds option, I maintained a course for the trees and slammed on the breaks. Though the breaks responded reluctantly to my urging and the bike seemed more inclined to take the scenic detour, I avoided the trees. Crises averted. Once I mustered my nerves and slapped on a smile, I guided my stubborn steed back to the beaten path to finish the bike ride in high spirits.