Alaska

“I felt as if I was standing in the mightiest cathedral that had ever been built. There was no end to it, and no beginning. All I could do was look at it and worship.” -Robert Specht

I got off the plane in Alaska and Zach had the bikes ready. He said the first 300 feet were going to be steep. I expected my legs to feel sluggish, to hate having to push the pedals for the first few minutes, but that’s not what happened. It was a typical Juneau summer day, rainy and 60 degrees. We were biking up the Perseverance trail.  Rushing rivers, raw mountains, thin ribbons of water falling hundreds of feet, tightly packed vales of trees, rocks slicing into the sky. Alaska drips technicolor. My depression and lethargy blew back as I charged up the hill. Every crank was joy; every hard breath, cold clarity.

Ah, Alaska. I remember how to use my muscles. The days are long. At night, I sleep deeply. The rain and sun feel equally welcome. I’m living adventure out of my childhood dreams. 

Alaska is truth. I learn things I never suspected before, things that apply to my life here in the lower 48. During my Alaska days, I scribbled a few down:

Get outside no matter what the weather, because there is no such thing as bad weather, only bad gear. 

Find a happy hemlock, not a grumpy spruce. 

Whether biking, hiking, or swimming, avoid the black greasy-looking rocks. They’re slicker than ice.

Be militant about your clean technique or the boat (the cabin, the table, the kitchen, your life) will stink of fish.

Not all logs were made for walking. But some are, some are.

Don’t leave home without your coat. 

When someone is spraying your face with insect repellent and they say “close your eyes,” you should also fold in your lips. 

The waves look bigger to the captain of the smaller boat. 

In general, don’t grab things with your hands unless desperate, and avoid grabbing devil’s club at all costs. 

Stash float coats and radios on shore because sometimes stray icebergs really will sink your vessel. 

Even bad fish make good bait.

Trust your Xtratufs. Yes, they will occasionally let you down on that slimy stuff at the high tide mark. But don’t let that be enough to break your spirit. 

Get your $100 worth, but don’t go over. 

Turn on the anchor light so you can find your way back to the boat after dark.

Always pack both your rain pants and your swimsuit.  

Because if you do it right, Alaska (and life) will always be ’Some rain, some sun, enjoyed it all.’