Outstanding. On the nail-head description of Alaska. Focused on family, and people, as well as the awesome beauty.
Disclosure: recently, I drove from the Chesapeake Bay to Prudhoe Bay and back. The Alaska portion was some fourteen hundred miles: the Alaskan Highway on the Canadian border to Fairbanks, then north via the Haul Road to the Arctic Ocean, south to Denali National Park and Preserve and on to Anchorage, then the swing northeast around the Wrangell-St. Elias National Park and Preserve, and out. Remember how you felt Christmas morning as a kid? Sheer, shameless joy? Alaska does that to you all over again. Only maybe it’s better because now, with the perspective that comes with age, you understand just how far up the scale it is. So, I think I know a little of what Peter Jenkins (A Walk Across America) was expressing here about Alaska.
He lived there for a year, mostly in Seward. He went salmon fishing with Haida and Tlingit people near Prince of Wales Island in Southeast, he kayaked in the coastal fjords of Prince Willliam Sound, spent a week above the Arctic Circle in the Brooks Range (in winter), hunted bowhead whales with the Inupiat on the west coast of the Seward Peninsula, helped his father-in-law hunt moose in the south central mountains near Merrill Pass, and generally did about all you can squeeze into a year there. As he described the effects, they sort of built, one upon the other, until at the end the whole was much greater than the parts.
The first thing that gets you is the beauty. You expect it but not to the extent that it is. It stuns you, physically. You actually feel it, not just see it. It’s easy to lose focus on what maybe you should be doing, like flying a plane. Some of the bush pilots who crashed no doubt just got distracted by the overwhelming sights. Perhaps the next thing is the sense of wilderness. Nearly all of us now live in places that are no longer wild. Alaska is almost all still wild. And that both draws you in and humbles you. Once you are in the Alaskan wilderness, especially in winter, you notice the unbelievable silence and you can’t help but think of your mortality. Then, finally, you know Alaska has changed you. Call it confidence, or a settled feeling, but in your center you are calmer.
Whether you have been there, or think you might go, this is one excellent way to share Alaska.