 June 2, 2025 Driving South heading toward the Alcan Highway. One of the requirements of my job is that I work long periods of time isolated off in remote Alaska. Conversely, one of the benefits I receive is the free time I can request off. This year, I’ve taken off time from May 13 to August 5 and I've spent a portion of it road tripping. I recently spoke with a friend who, at summer’s end, is migrating south from Alaska to a warmer climate. It is odd to think this long-time Alaskan will no longer reside in our glorious state. As I recently journeyed down and back up the Alcan Highway, I told her I’d share my venture so they can reference what may be of interest for their own travels. I’ll share on my drive south and itemize those details. I moved to Alaska in June of 1981 and over the course of my residency, I've traversed this road system a total of nine times (making this current trip number ten), So, I had some sense of how to prepare and of what I might encounter along the way. My first tip: This is a wonderful adventure but it is a very long drive; I covered 2520 miles from my home in Alaska to US Customs in Oroville, Washington. And by the time I arrived back home, I’d logged a total of 6555 miles on my car. So, sit back and enjoy, stop at points of interest, take a lot of pictures, get out of the car now and then and walk and stretch and . . . breathe. Vehicle: DMV - Check your tags. Mine were set to expire during my travels. (So glad I checked) Insurance - Verify this is current and update your card Mechanic - I informed my mechanic regarding the miles I planned to put on my car - and he took over from there. He’d recently changed the oil in my car, so he advised I change it upon my arrival at my destination. He checked the fluids, suspension (We broke down one time along the Cassiar Hwy due to issues with the bearings - apparently they need grease). He gave it a tune up, changed the plugs and when he was finished doing what mechanics do, he gave my lil-go-mobile the thumbs up. (And, yes, I had the oil changed when I arrived at Seeley Lake and again I requested the mechanic give it a go over for the return drive home). Currency: Exchange Rate -The rate is good - so it is worth taking time to make the exchange. Money Mart in Anchorage offers foreign currency exchange services, however, their rate is poor - they add on a steep fee for their troubles. Wells Fargo and Northrim offer exchange services, however, you have to “order” the money and this will take time - so order well in advance of your departure date. I did not prepare in time so I went to Money Mart. It was still worth the exchange, but as I knew the exchange rate, I felt Money Mart's gouge! Credit Card - I called my Financial Institute and let them know I’d be traveling so they’d not shut my card off for “suspicious activity”. Also, there was an International Fee associated with my card each time I used it in Canada. And, you’ll want to check to verify whether or not your ‘bank’ converts for the exchange rate. You can use a credit card throughout Canada, but I preferred using cash, as I received more bang for my buck. Canadian currency works a bit different from here in the US. They have bills in denominations of $5, $10, $20, $50 and $100. However, anything below $5.00 comes in coins of $1 and $2 dollars as well as change below $1. However, they round up or down when it comes to penny’s. For instance, if my total for fuel came to $28.02, the total I’d have to pay was $28.00. Total Cost - My drive down the Alcan Highway cost $515.00; this included gas, food (one meal per day in a restaurant plus snacks and drinks) and a one night stay at a hotel; The 28 Inn Hotel, in New Hazelton, BC cost $101.00 for a one person occupancy. This total is for my Canadian portion of the trip only. And, if you factor in the rate of exchange, the total came to less than the $515.00. Not too shabby. Fuel: Gas is sold by liters in Canada. The conversion is 3.785 liters per 1 gallon. Fuel ran anywhere from $5.14 per gallon ($1.36/L) to $7.72 a gallon ($2.04/L). My car averaged 35.3 mpg. I did not need to take fuel cans for my vehicle. However, from past experiences, I stopped and topped off my tank every time I came upon a gas station. Due to wild fires closing down the Alaska Highway, I drove the Cassiar Highway (which took off a 150 miles from my trip). But, there are fewer stops for fuel along this route. Even at that, my fuel never went below half a tank of gas. As I used cash to pay for fuel, I’d have to go inside and guesstimate liters and prepay. Once I fueled up, I’d go back to the cashier and they’d give me the appropriate change. I never ran into a problem giving a cashier a $50 or a $100 bill; they always gave back the correct change. Car Camping: Driving through Alaska and Canada takes several days. Paying for accommodations adds up quickly. So before I left, I converted my back seat into a bed. I bought a pre-cut board from Home Depot and two foam pads from Fred Meyers for a total cost of $55.00. I cut down the foam pads to make the appropriate adjustments, but aside from this, it was an easy task. I topped the pads with cozy bedding and voila - I had a place to sleep whenever I needed to rest my eyes. I purchased privacy items for the windows and I slept quite comfortably. From all my years working in the insurance industry, my thought processes are still prone to calculating risks. I’d dealt with too many claims where folks left valuables inside their vehicle only to have them pilfered. This in saying, I packed my car in such a way so as to not draw unnecessary attention to its contents; although, my Alaskan plates shout - traveler! My car is black, so I used all black bed and window coverings. Safety/Vulnerability - Safety is the topic where I field the most questions and concerns. And . . . for clarification - safety is what guides all of my decisions and preparations when I undertake an adventure, especially of this magnitude. Prior to departure, I calculated risks and attempted to mitigate any unforeseen challenges or dangers. For instance - during most of this road trip, I had no reception so my cell was of little use to me if I were to need help; Roadside Service is of no value if you cannot call them. A backup plan is critical. So, I made sure: * I had plenty of funds in case I had a mechanical issue and I needed to stay any length of time in a hotel. * I had very few valuables with me and if I were to need to leave my car to go get help, I had a small bag to carry what was crucial. * My vehicle was in top working order and - that I had the proper tools, that my spare tire was in good shape and that I knew how to change a flat if the need arose. * I had a map and I looked it over in advance. And for this journey, I purchased a Milepost - a very good tool for mapping out and planning for gas, accommodations, campgrounds, etc. * Every evening - I let people know where I was located and what my next route would be and where I’d end up the following night. * I was in a town at night so I’d have cell reception - very important for a host of reasons. * I car camped near motorhomes and travel trailers. Folks driving these vehicles are probably elderly or they are families, and they’re most likely willing to help if the need presents. Each night, I made sure I was in a town and parked in a safe place with others close by. I ALWAYS topped off my gas tank before I parked for the evening and I made sure that I could easily jump into the driver’s seat if I needed to get out of the area quickly. If I needed to rest my eyes during daylight hours, I’d pull into the parking lot of a store or restaurant. I was very wary regarding rest areas as I could easily find myself in a vulnerable situation in these locations. I have stories of my travels where my car broke down, I needed help and people were kind and all went well. Conversely, I have stories such as the time I woke in the middle of the night with two men driving their truck in circles around my car - that was a scary night! Prior to reaching Whitehorse and for miles beyond, billboards line the road system with missing persons information . . . of both men and women. From Whitehorse to Prince Rupert, this section is known to Canadian's as the Highway of Tears. Be. vigilant, safety is paramount. Cell/Reception: International charges apply through Canada and roaming charges add up quickly traveling through the lower 48 states. I contacted my provider to let them know of my travel plans and they adjusted my services accordingly. (I know someone who recently traveled up the Alcan Highway and at the end of their trip, they'd accumulated a $500.00 phone bill.) Music: For the most part, this is a quiet drive. So, if you like noise, you’ll want to download music and podcasts and audio books or take along your old CDs. I enjoy quiet and I find road trips to be a wonderful place for processing, planning, praying and mediating. Canada provides road signs with information for their local radio stations. I often tuned in and listened to their unique style of broadcasting. Road Conditions: Alaska provides advance notice of what a driver will encounter on the road ahead. Canada does not do this so pay close attention to their signage as it is very different. Canadians indicate road damage with 5 gallon buckets filled with sand where they've placed a stick in the middle that has a small orange flag on top. Some flags will be missing, so when you see a bucket - slow down. There will be no advanced warning. When you see the sign, you’re right on top of the issue - And . . . if there is a sign, there truly is an ISSUE! Also, the frost heaves up north in both Alaska and Canada are bad, so it’ll be slow going for quite some time. Just breath and enjoy the journey. Hygiene: Finding a place to clean up along the Alcan highway is not too difficult if you’re in an actual town. Just look for a laundromat or gym or recreational center as they'll most likely have a shower. Even some campgrounds in Canada provide the luxury of a shower. However, I did not find a place to clean up along the Cassiar Highway, aside from a natural water source - Brrrrr! Road Etiquette: Due to the duration of the trip, I often came across the same vehicles along the road system. Anytime I had opportunity to slow, pull close to the right of the road and allow others to pass by, I did. Be friendly, be courteous as you may find you’ll need their help somewhere along the way. Wildlife & Cyclists: There are a lot of bear in the Yukon and there are a lot of deer in British Columbia. Be vigilant as they’re all along the road system - as well as there are other wildlife. I came across a herd of grazing bison and some other magnificent animals - I’ll share photos here for you to enjoy. Oddly, there were several folks cycling the Alcan both on my way down and on my way back north. More often than not there are no shoulders along the road so these bicyclists have nowhere to go to get out of your way. Stay alert. I hope you find this information helpful. Have a safe and happy trip.
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 The pilot turns to me and advises we're in for a 'bumpy' ride. Hmmm?!? January 21, 2025 Clouds close in behind us as we land along the western coast of Alaska. We disembark and unload the Airvan. The pilot chocks the wheels, digs out the cowling blanket from inside the fuselage, attempts to drape it over the engine as it flutters and billows in the storm and then climbs into the back of our truck declaring he's not flying back into the turbulence he just flew us through. All of us are shaken! But . . . considering the pilot is unnerved, we can't help but wonder what in the world we were doing in the sky. Just past Quinhagak, a village south of Bethel situated adjacent the Bering Sea, the pilot looks over at me, visually inspects my four point seat belt to ensure it is secure and advises we are in for a bumpy ride. I inquire how he's determined this and he explains as he points to the cloud formations swirling over the mountain range. I snap a photo of the sky for my own reference and I settle back in my seat trusting he is capable of navigating whatever we encounter. Sitting in the co-pilot seat, I've a unique vantage point. I take pictures of the views paying little attention to the bumps we encounter along the flight. But . . . soon we fly into some seriously rough air. I note the pilot flies away from the shoreline, that he’s been following since we launched, and heads out over open water - distancing us from the mountains. He climbs higher in search of calmer currents . . . chancing he'll not ice over the plane. And then . . . the Cessna drops and tremors. I quickly jam my camera into my coat pocket, grab hold of the bottom of my seat and secure my feet against a metal rib on the floor in front of me so I’ll not inadvertently step on the rudder pedals in an attempt to keep from flailing around in the cockpit. The plane drops and shutters again - with such force it triggers an alarm. In my periphery - the pilot works the control panel as he maintains a death grip on the yoke. With no time to gather our bearings between gusts, we lurch sideways and the wind shakes us so hard, I close my eyes against vertigo. The plane drops again, the alarm blares and the thought crosses my mind, “This plane is going to pummel into the sea and . . . it’s gonna hurt!” Instinctively I pray, “Help him to safely fly us and give him peace.” Turbulence throws us around the sky . . . for what feels . . . interminable. I look out the window and see nothing but white. I fix my eyes on the c-map on the panel in front of me willing us closer to our destination. As the pilot slowly descends our 1200' elevation, I glimpse the churning, white-capped water below and a light fog hovering the shoreline. I pray we're able to land for the thought of flying back to Bethel - Uh, No! Please, no . . . As we near our approach, we've no visual of the surrounding mountains nor of camp, but the PAPIs provide a line of site at the head of the runway. Beyond grateful when the wheels touch down, I thank God and the pilot for a safe arrival. Our harrowing flight is the prevailing topic of conversation throughout our day . . . . . . And has played on my thoughts since. At present I do not relish the thought of boarding a plane. But as flying is my sole mode of transportation commuting to and from work, no alternative exists. Recently a loved one and I discussed our ability to “do hard things.” My affirmation was meant to encourage a situation that must be faced and worked through. And I stand by this fact. But Friedrich Nietzsche's admonition that, “what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger” takes my reality to a whole other level. Life is good even in the midst of fear and the inescapable truth of mortality. Life is good even when pressed to dig deeper within and life is good even when incited to reach beyond one’s self for strength to help power through whatever must be faced. Life is good, we can . . . do hard things.  Sparrevohn, Alaska June 2024 A few days ago I sat in the Weather Observation Station looking out on a seemingly tranquil wilderness. While conducting my airfield inspection that morning, I drove past piles of scat, evidence of brown bear milling close to camp. The sky was streaked white and blue, the mountains carpeted green and bird song floated in through the open window. I dispatched weather observations to the pilot flying in food supplies. I heard engines drone off in the distance; an indication the plane was close. And I watched as it flew into view, land and kick up a cloud of dust on the strip. I observed from my perch and listened over the radio to the goings on at the apron as my colleagues unloaded the plane. I disseminated one last weather obs prior to the planes departure, waited by the radio another 15 minutes and then headed back to the “house” where the real work of my 12 hour shift ensued. When I began my tenure, nearly four years ago, the responsibility of disseminating weather observations to pilots terrified me. I felt inadequate to the task and the weight of the responsibility, if things turned adverse, was almost paralyzing. Now, I look forward to this aspect of the job. Today the airfield is abuzz with activity. My senses are heightened with the awareness others rely on my observations for their decision making as to whether or not it is safe for them to land. Beginnings carry a sense of trepidation, the unknown . . . insecurities. Familiarity develops more of a confidence, practice produces an element of peace. One experience builds upon another which in turn develops skills. My humble beginning in the workforce started in the strawberry fields in Oregon. My grade school friend Cindy, her older brother Scott and I’d board a bus in the early AM. We’d sit hours in the scorching dirt picking berries under an unrelenting sun; quite the task for kiddos. And our reward? Fifty cents per flat. Our employment was short lived, however, as Scott incited a strawberry fight. Cindy, too, took up arms and dismissal followed their lack of interpersonal skills. Back at their home, Scott and Cindy received spankings for their errors in judgment and I was sent back to my family. I confess, though I felt sorry over their discipline, I was grateful to them both for putting an end to our berry picking careers. I eventually took up baby-sitting and from there I graduated to a daycare center where I prepared snacks and put toothpaste on little’s toothbrushes. I raked and weeded and pruned and planted and painted and washed windows and scrubbed walls and I scraped gum and glue off of a school’s desks one summer. As a teen, I served fast food at Herfy’s Burgers and Taco Bell. When I caught the eye of a college boy, who was working as a carnie with the Rose Festival during his summer break, he whisked me off to Alaska where I added commercial fishing and construction to my resume. In-between raising our family and helping manage our businesses, I eked out a college degree. And after years of outdoor labor, I transitioned to desk-jockey positions where I resolved insurance claims and managed an office. There are smatterings of smaller jobs that filled the spaces. Today, I commute by air where I work in remote locations around the state of Alaska. Unlike many I know, linear is not a part of my story. My aspirations toward teaching and writing and developing my art into something marketable met with a myriad of twists and turns. But . . . when my best laid plans were left no option but to cede to life circumstances, the unexpected and the unknown worked to shape the life I live. Extracting the precious from the worthless is a mindset I discovered is worth honing. Being open to opportunities, that appear outside the scope of my goals, often present me with unforeseen good fortune. I've learned that at some point I must let go of my grumblings and allow gratitude to shape my heart’s desires. And as I've powered through fears in the face of uncertainties, sometimes one nano step at a time, I've awakened to my abilities and I've learned that, with faith, I am capable of tackling life’s challenges. Take heart when life ushers in difficulties knowing that inside of you is a strength yet to be discovered. Life is gloriously messy . . . to reach the glory, often we must muddle our way through the mess. Remember, life is good, I’m cheering for you. After spending the last two months vacationing flying to Montana and California, driving to Arizona and working on my property here in Alaska, I’m settled in the Weather Station looking out onto a wet, grey day disseminating observations for expected air traffic. I’ve a longer than usual work assignment this time out; three months. But, I’ve another two months vacation waiting at the other end . . . a nice incentive. One of the happy highlights during my time off this Spring was my visit with my oldest child. As there are 3800 miles distancing us as well as two very different work schedules, regular visits are not possible. So, when we are able to say a hello, it is a special time. Though my son worked during my visit, we spent the evening hours catching up on one another’s lives. We shared meals and watched shows and puttered about at small domestic tasks and worked together in his yard. His beautiful 1910 stucco, brick and terra cotta tile home is graced with pomegranate, lemon and fig trees. Red flowering hibiscus bushes sit at the entrance to his house and palm trees shimmer and sway in the California breezes. Rosemary and sage and rose shrubs add a heavenly fragrance as well as a gorgeous aesthetic to his landscape. On the weekend, we strolled through the Los Angelas County Fair. It was a bit surreal walking through a metal detector that ensured we were not carrying weapons. We checked out the car show and watched as the tram took folks from one end of the fair to the other so they didn’t have to walk its length and breadth. Unlike Alaska, there is not a designated beer garden, so peeps walked the grounds with drinks in hand. Food grilled and smoked in the hot sun, exhibits displayed all manner of talents and people . . . were everywhere. We also attended a Renaissance Fair. While walking up to pay for our admission, a gentleman approached and kindly offered us his two extra tickets. Grateful, we accepted and followed him and his family through the gate entrance. The costumery was amazing - I stared at everyone, old English was spoken, Bar Maids enticed from their ‘pubs’, Washer women cooled the crowd throwing water onto passerby, audiences laughed at entertainers and a pianist played away sitting protected from the sun under her umbrella. Craftsmen sold wares that lent to the medieval atmosphere. It is always sad to say goodbye. But I am most grateful for the time I spent with my son. In Montana, I drove from Missoula to Seeley for a barbecue with my little sister. I played darts and pool with my niece and nephew. I visited with other family members and I spent most of my time with my mom whose health is failing. In Arizona, the Grand Canyon amazed and longtime friends cheered, the temperatures blazed and the sun burned my Alaska lily-white skin. At home, I attended an ex-in-laws wedding and posed for family pictures with the ex-clan members. I hugged my daughters and grands, visited kindly friends and worked on my property. I met with my architect and excitedly designed my future home. And I took long drives and I ordered coffees and I ate out as often as possible before flying into remote Alaska where there are no such amenities - at all. I’ll spend my time, over my three month tenure here in the wilderness, planning for my next two months off. One of my sons will attempt a visit, I’m contemplating invitations I received to fly to Hawaii, my youngest daughter turns 40 during this time and I graduate into the 60s season of life. So, I am envisioning something grandiose, something bold to celebrate this exciting new phase. Working in isolation during my summer and missing all the life back home, is not exactly my ideal. But when I count my blessings, which truly are many, I am able to put my hands to the hard tasks. With a thankful heart, I see with greater clarity that my life is good, even when sequestered amidst mountains and bears.  Flying into Anchorage after one of my work assignments, in remote Alaska, I often feel overwhelmed by the traffic, the lines, the noise and the people . . . everywhere people; I definitely experience stimulation overload. It takes time to assimilate back into my social circles and the rhythm of my life. But spending a month in California where the pace is rocketing and the population dense, there is no adapting; it’s full throttle or collide - literally. If you’ve not driven the LA freeways, it’s quite the experience; five, six, seven plus lanes across, not including the oncoming lanes, all jammed with vehicles for as far off as the eyes can see. Overpasses and off ramps, Merging and perpetual lane changing, tailgating at high rates of speed and the ever crowding into the next lane over in attempts at finding a faster velocity, vehicles wizzing by and congestion clogging the procession slowing the flow to a mere 15 mph and sometimes to a complete stop in 65 mph zones which eats up your time and distances your destination even further - all of this makes up the California freeway experience. Saturday morning I’ll wake in Alaska and traverse the scenic byways between Anchorage and the Peninsula. I may tune into one of my favorite podcasts or listen to Calum Graham strum, I’ll set my cruise control and I’ll breathe deeply of the cool, clean air and the mountainous beauty of my home. Travel offers glimpses into other’s ways of living and opens our scope and capacity for empathy. But too, broadening our perspective incites gratitude for the gloriously, messy lives we’ve built back home. So, whether the sun blazes and the rush whirls or the temps require layers and the clip is more quiet in nature, life is good.  View from my room - Tin City, Alaska Bering Sea One of the benefits of my job is flying into historically rich locations around the state of Alaska. I arrived at Tin City, almost a week ago now; a place where the remains of the past speak of times gone by. From the window of my third story room, I look, in the not too far off distance, at dilapidated buildings, rusted tanks, inoperable equipment and debris strewn in the snow - all of which were long since abandoned near the mouth of Cape Creek. In 1903 two mining companies worked to extract Tin from Cape Mountain. Then in 1909, the town closed its last remaining door at the Tin City Post Office when prosperity fell silent along the Bering Sea. In 1950 the military moved in and set up the Tin City Long Range Radar System. As I walk down the comparatively quiet halls of the building where I work, I try to image when life buzzed within these corridors. This concrete structure once housed a Chaple and an onsite Chaplin, a bowling alley and a theater, a Trooper’s office and a kitchen that apparently fed up to some several hundred people. Polar bear cages barricade the sites entrances. Since we are located just six miles southeast of Wales, the place where a recent polar bear attack transpired, I feel grateful for the added security; but, I must say, the cages do lend an ominous air. I hope you enjoy these photos. I’ll add more as opportunity presents.  A sunny day at the beach When the sun entices, I follow. And this time, its light lures me in a south-westerly direction. Yesterday the wind blew making 23 degrees feel much colder. But today, the air is still, the sun is glowing and the beach needs walking. So, I'm off. Life is good.  I envision the open road to hold great distances and new opportunities and faces and a plethora of adventures. This last Spring I sold my 21’ class C motorhome and started toward an upgrade to a 40’ class A. But as sometimes happens, shifts and turns redirected my course of action; the resulting outcome . . . at present, the road opens up to exploration much closer to home. Yesterday, we drove several miles under a grey canopy, but the closer we got to our destination, the clouds broke to reveal an azure sky. We bundled in layers against the 28 degree temperature and walked through the woods and along the lake shore. Light reflected off snow covered mountains and dark, moody waves crashed against the water’s rocky edge. I placed my hood over my cap to add an extra layer of protection against the icy wind. Heading back toward home, we stopped in and dined at a cute, little place built of logs. Empty of all but the staff, we selected a table and cozied in with hot tea and coffee. While I looked over the menu, a young man walked in, took a seat and placed his order. He then interrupted my musing, “May I join you at your table?” I looked over at his grinning face and smiled in return, “Do you need some company?” “Yes, I do.” He beamed back. So, breeching CDC’s recommendation to maintain a 6’ distance, I moved over and Tyler sat next to me and began entertaining us with his story. He wore a bright yellow hoody and his blonde hair in a clean cut style. An athletically built college student, Tyler informed he is on a undetermined-amount-of-time sabbatical and is presently exploring entrepreneurial options for his career path. During his discourse, he periodically adjusted his chic rimmed glasses and his youthful zeal and ever smiling countenance enlivened our dining experience. Driving home, we chatted on the sweet reprieve, from the lockdown-state-of-mind-climate in our current culture, that Tyler gifted to us. He reminded us of days when a smile and a friendly word came with far more ease and when people were vulnerable and trusting and allowed access to the heart where kinder thoughts toward others stirred. A change in one’s geographic location is not necessarily synonymous with adventure. The opportunity to explore and meet new people is a state of mind and is found within one’s own back yard . . . if one is open to its gifts.  Sitting in the co-pilot seat provides a unique perspective. This summer the open road, as it turns out, is now the open skies. Adventure takes on various forms.
 We make our plans and then . . . life happens. But - at the right time, the way opens up and we embark upon new adventures. Welcome 2021, let's hit the road.
Two thousand five was a big year for me! After 25 years of family life, my lil nest emptied; my children went off to venture and build lives of their own choosing. As the oldest of six and then raising four of my own, all I’d ever known, up to this juncture, was a care-taking style of living. So, naturally I floundered; what now?
Uncertain as to how to define this pondering, I packed my things into a storage unit, loaded my car with books and bike and outdoor equipment and set off on a 5 month driving venture in an attempt to answer, “Now what?” Two Thousand Fifteen, also, proved a big year for me!!! I underwent testing for cancer (thankfully - none existed). I underwent major surgery which was followed, two days after my discharge from the hospital, by a visit to the Emergency Room due to complications with my breathing. Everything turned surreal as medical staff descended upon me in the concern I’d developed a blood clot. The ER doctor advised me of the potential of another (emergency) surgery and too of the possibility I may meet with my Maker. Staff hurriedly placed me on a gurney and wheeled me down a long corridor and into a room where a Tech preformed a cat scan on my heart . . . I walked away from this experience determined to make changes in areas of my life that I’d shelved away for - future attention. After working nearly fourteen years in an industry governed by contracts and statutes, I now spend the bulk of my time and energy investing in creative endeavors. I set healthier standards of conduct in relationships I’d enabled and where I’d failed to set healthy boundary lines of respect. My people pleasing ways and my inability to execute an appropriate “no” not only did not seem to please, but, upon reflection, did not benefit the ones I’d placate. Now, in the best interest of others and, too, of myself, in spite of the potential for anger or isolation, I issue a healthy no. My spiritual focus is much more clear these days. And, adventuring is a priority. Repositioning is no easy feat. Nearly four years have passed and my life is still in process as I work toward goals important to my heart. I recently purchased a motorhome with the aim to head south this Fall or this coming Spring. My goal, my intent is to continue my creative, spiritual and adventurous ways of living. I wrote the posts, that precede this blog entry, in 2005 to family and friends who asked to follow my happenings during the 5 months I spent traveling. I hope that you enjoy reading as my writings provide you with a small window into the direction I am currently heading. Here is to new beginnings - whatever our season in life. April 14, 2005
To the Caring, the Concerned and the Curious, I’m here! I am back on US soil. I drove through US Customs last night around 8:30 pm after being interrogated and then, with a smile, welcomed back into the good ole USA. I am in Blaine, WA visiting friends and at the moment (while writing this letter) I am laying on a sea of green, basking in the sun and listening to a cacophony of bird song. The birds are going crazy here. Everything is green and flowering and the air is warm. I grabbed Crystal’s bike today, since mine is disassembled in the back of my car, and toured Drayton Harbor, the Marina and downtown Blaine. It felt good to move after sitting on my hinder for four days. Blaine is a quiet little town and is a fantastic place to relax for a couple days after a trip down the Alcan Hwy. For those of you who I did not inform about the change in my plans, I am currently on my way to California. I decided to throw my tent, my bathing suit, some books and my bike in the back of my car, bypass Anchorage for a time and head toward the suntan state. I thought an adventure would do me good before I settle down into routine again. Saying goodbye to everyone was bittersweet. Your love and hugs and well wishes were touching and my granddaughter’s farewell went straight to my heart. When I pulled up to the house to say goodbye to the grandbabies, Riss ran to the door to meet me. When I picked her up, she grabbed me in a choke hold, pressed her cheek to mine and exclaimed, “I go with you grama.” We had fun playing and laughing during my visit. When I readied to leave, Rissa dove for my ankle, grabbed hold and as I laughed and drug her across the floor a couple steps, she looked up at me with a smile on her cherub face and declared, “I go with you grama.” (I personally think that ankle diving should be a frequent occurrence in everyone’s life. Alright, I confess, it might look a little peculiar if adults start diving for ankles, but it sure feels good when someone you love grabs hold.) Well, I picked Rissa up and gave her a kiss and when I set her back down, she ran to the window and smiled and waved as I drove off. I so wanted to swoop that girl up and say, “Come on Rissa-Roo, let’s go see Mickey Mouse.” If only we’d stay that open and vulnerable as the years progress. The enthusiasm I was met with by those I’ll visit during my travels down the west coast was also heart warming, especially my daughter’s, who when I told her my intent, screamed with excitement. I too screamed in response - before realizing I was in a restaurant with friends. Oops! The drive through Alaska and Canada was amazing. I thoroughly enjoyed the solitary miles. The road was like an old friend whose company I’ve missed and I did not want to leave. Sunday morning was my first official day on the road, I left my sunny spot on the Copper River and drove off into the grey. By days end I’d driven over 650 miles to Teslin, Canada. As I said, it felt good to be on the road. Besides, everything was white and frozen and cold, so conditions were not especially conducive to stopping to smell the roses or campfire smoke. When I reached Teslin, everything was closed. I stopped at a motel whose sign said, “Open.” But when I knocked, no one answered. I had no alternative but to sleep in the car. I pulled off the road and parked in a quiet area, threw the back seat’s contents into the front and crawled under the covers for a cramped but sound nights sleep. When I peeked my head out from under the covers the next morning, ice cold air bit me in the face. I quickly turned the ignition over, hid back under the covers and waited for a bit of warmth to greet me good morning. I spent my second night in Fort Nelson and my third in Prince George where I grabbed a room and took a very, very, very long, hot shower. I drove in every imaginable weather condition possible and my Subaru and I did beautifully. My travels have been great thus far and I am looking forward to more of the same. I will email another letter when I reach my destination in California. I am not exactly sure when this will be. I have a weekend rendezvous in Seattle planned, a hot tub, a bottle of wine and a gab session waiting in Portland where I plan to stay for at least a week or two and I have a peanut butter and jelly sandwich awaiting me in Roseburg. I do so hope there is a glass of milk to go with the PB & J, Aunt Jan, And yes, I recall our conversation on the topic of “expectations” lol. I then plan to travel the coastline down to Southern Cali. For those of you I’ll bypass taking the coastal route, when I reach Lancaster, I’ll pick up my sweetie girl and head back north for a visit. So, I’ll see you soon. I just couldn’t pass up the opportunity to dip my toe in the Pacific. I hope all of you are doing wonderfully. I send you my love Until then, Nannette May 5, 2005
Hello From Oregon I so enjoy your calls and emails. I appreciate your words of encouragement, your updates and your numerous admonitions to, “BE CAREFUL.” And so I will. I thought I’d send another letter even though I’ve not yet reached my destination in order to respond to all the emails I’ve received. I thought I should set my good friends and loving worrier’s minds at ease as to where I am and what I am up to. My youngest reminds me when I worry over him that, “It’s all good, Mom.” So take heart that it’s all good. I am sitting next to a crackling fire that’s blazing its way up a mammoth chimney in Timberline Lodge on Mt. Hood. This place is great. It has a very rustic feel and a wonderful sense of history. The mountain is covered in snow and is shrouded in fog. Gorgeous. I decided to take a drive up the mountain today while everyone is at work and treat myself to lunch here at the lodge. What a fantastic place to sit and write. Adventure continues to readily present itself, much to my joy. Or, maybe it is more along the lines of what my niece observed the other day. My sister’s teenage girls and I went to the park for lunch and when we finished eating, I coaxed and coerced them to the swing set. They moaned and groaned but followed my lead. While they sat on their swings and complained about motion sickness, I set my swing flying and then set it spinning while in mid-air. They yelled something about throwing-up and about me being a crazy woman. I laughed back. And Tressa shot at me in a rather unimpressed tone, “Aunt Nannette, you entertain easily.” I laughed again and responded in a rather preachy aunt sort of way, “All I have is this moment Tress, right now and I am going to be happy and have fun.” Like someone reminded me before I began my travels south, the journey is as important as the destination. Whether the journey is in the literal sense or the figurative, this principle is applicable to both. Yesterday is gone, tomorrow has not yet arrived, all we have is today, this moment, right now. So, maybe experiencing adventure is more of an attitude than an opportunity. It’s all in how we view life and what we make of it. My Seattle rendezvous was great fun. My brother and his buddy were in the area finishing up their scuba diving certification. So I met with them and my sister-in-law for fun in the rain. As I’d arrived at the hotel before the rest, I made my way down to the outdoor hot tub and swimming pool for a soak and a swim. Ah, the amenities a warmer climate offers. It was dark and raining out and I had the place to myself. Subdued lighting surrounded the pool’s perimeter along with Maples and Willows and Rhododendrons. I glided and floated through the cool water and enjoyed the solitude. I closed my eyes and let the rain softly pelt my face and the water relax my road weary muscles. This peaceful moment was short lived, however, due to a group of approximately 20 rambunctious teenagers diving and bombing into the water around me. The atmosphere quickly changed from peaceful to playful. Fun! After the guys scuba dive the next day, we wandered through Pikes Market. We squeezed our way through the mob of people trying to get a look at everything. There were flowers everywhere; daffodils and tulips and lilacs and numerous other varieties. The colors and smells and textures filled our senses; I couldn’t get enough. Kim and I oohed and aahed over flowers until the guys were sick of hearing us. We watched the fish mongers at Pikes Market Fish Co. bark at passerby and throw fish at one another and too throw a rubber chicken into the unsuspecting, squealing crowd. It was quite comical and great entertainment. The following day Kim and I watched the Daffodil Festival Marine Parade make its way along Ruston Way Waterfront in Tacoma while the guys finished their last dive. There were 50 some odd boats decked out in daffodils and flags and other ornaments and people stood on decks dressed in yachtsmen clothes waving to landlubbers. After the dive, we joined the diving class for lunch. What a fun and interesting group of people. I enjoyed listening the stories the experienced divers shared. And the instructor offered to give me a couple free introductory lessons. I am thoroughly enjoying spending time with loved ones here in Oregon. Of course I am involved in family activities; dinners and track meets and movies and a comedy club show and lunches and the health club and the beauty salon. My sister-in-law and my nieces and I went to the beauty salon after hours. We ate pizza and looked at magazines and asked Kathy to make us look like “this one.” We colored our hair and skin and nails and talked girl talk and listened to music and sang and danced around the salon with foil in our hair and had a great time. I have also experienced a few outdoor adventures. I’ve been to Hood River up the Columbia Gorge to watch the windsurfers and kite boarders, (I have to take up that sport. The guys on the kite boards dance on the water and jump the waves and fly through the air. How fun is that?) I have also been to the coast and to the mountains a couple times and to the zoo. I walked around downtown Portland and meandered through shops, and, I watched passerby (I could write a whole letter just on observations I made while people watching downtown. Crazy!) And I’ve been to Multnomah Falls a couple of times. Life is good. My sister and I hiked up switchbacks to the top of Multnomah Falls at sunset under a canopy of Western Red Cedars and moss covered Maples. There was a slight reprieve in the rain. The sun broke its way through the clouds and put on a glorious exhibit before kissing the world goodnight. Multnomah Falls crashes down a basalt cliff into an amphitheater shaped area. It is absolutely gorgeous. At the base of the Falls is a lodge that looks like it came directly out of a Thomas Kincaid painting. The lodge is built of rocks found in the Columbia gorge area and has two massive chimneys at each end of the lodge and the wood shakes on the roof are covered with moss. The chimney at the east end of the lodge had smoke slowly billowing its way up into the trees. Very picturesque. I plan to stay in Oregon for at least another week. There are just too many fun things to do here and great people to visit. I will be heading down the coastline to see my girly as well as other family members and friends in California in the not too distant future. I hope that all of you are doing wonderfully and that life is treating you well. I send all of you my love and I look forward to hearing from you as always. Nannette June 2, 2005
Hello All, I’ve reached my destination. And I’ve enjoyed safe travels from Alaska through to California. Traveling alone has proved to be an awesome adventure thus far. I’ve experienced a trial or two here and there, but such is the nature of life. The best we can do is to learn to extract the precious from the worthless and enjoy the good we do have in our lives; family, friends, love and the list continues infinitely. So much has happened in the month since I last wrote and I have a host of stories to relay. I’ll try to spare you the book version of my escapades and focus on the semi-condensed version. The majority of you are enjoying my lengthy letters and ask that I continue sending them. I realize, though, that not everyone is a reader. So, if you’re not up to reading my letters, you’re under no obligation. But as life holds so many wonderful opportunities and adventures and possibilities and lessons, I will share with those who are interested in my happenings. I did indeed drive the coastline here to southern Cali, but the trip was not quite as I’d envisioned. I had visions of sun and blue skies, of walking the beach and collecting shells, of playing in the ocean and sitting on the sand writing and sketching to my hearts content. Instead I was met with fog and rain. Visibility was so poor, from North to South along Hwy 1, that I rarely glimpsed the ocean. The majority of the road along Hwy 1 is precarious, winding and twisting, up and down and around with one hairpin turn after another. It was dizzying to drive, especially in poor visibility and it was worse in the dark. As I was driving, a parallel came to mind - I compared the limited visibility and the adverse road and weather conditions to conditions, at times, in my personal life. I set goals and I dream dreams and I steer my course onward. But when traveling becomes precarious, winding and twisting and visibility seems limited, my journey leaves me dizzy and the unknowns seem to darken my vision of the future further. But it is at these times when darkness seems to fall, that I turn on the lights to help guide me; the lights of family love, of wisdom gained through the hard knocks of life, of friends who cherish and care and of the Bible. And though I sometimes find myself taking a detour, I, thankfully, find my way back and continue my journey with confidence. And too, in spite of the conditions and the precariousness and the dizzying affects of life, I’m still on the road making headway, even if progress is slower at times than at others. (Here’s a bit of feeling for you, Cliff). When I hit the bottom of the mountains and finally reached the ocean my first night on Hwy 1, it was dark and late and I was exhausted. I hadn’t seen anyone or anything along the hwy for miles. So when I spied a cluster of R/V’s hunkered down near the beach for the night, I pulled into the middle of them and crawled in the back seat, once again, and slept. Highway I also routed me through Sausalito, a cute little touristy town across the bay from San Francisco, and toward the Golden Gate Bridge. While crossing the bridge, I couldn’t help myself, I let out a scream of excitement. That thrill cost me a $5 toll when I reached the other side. And yes, I do entertain easily. When I hit San Francisco. I called my daughter and we made plans to meet at Pismo Beach. When I arrived in Pismo and pulled up next to my girly's car, she jumped out and said in the sweetest tone, “Momma, I’ve missed you.” She made a few cute little hops toward me, wrapped her arms tight around my waste and laid her head on my shoulder and just held me. My sweat pea and I’ve had all sorts of fun together. We recently went on an outing with a group of her friends. Mark asked, “Do you want to go cliff jumping, Momma?” I replied, “Let’s go.” So six of us piled into a compact car and held on for dear life while Hannah drove like a mad woman careening the car up the winding canyon road. The tunes were cranked and voices rose in song, the windows were rolled down and the wind ran its hot fingers through hair tousling six heads. When we reached the jumping point at Colby Canyon, I looked down a very high, narrow canyon walls into a small but deep pool that had waterfalls above and below it. Over the course of the winter, the effects of erosion had loosened a slab of rock the size of two suburbans and it had fallen into the lower half of the pool we were to jump into. After assessing the situation, we all agreed to try another place of insanity down river. Making our way down river was no easy feat I can tell you. We spent hours bouldering and climbing along rocks and swimming back and forth across the river and working our way over one waterfall after another. We'd climb up, up, up and over and under and around and down, down, down again wearing our swimsuits and sandals or going barefoot in 100+ temps. I have wanted to learn to rock climb for years but I always thought that ropes and harnesses would be a part of my education. Not so on this day. I was quickly introduced to freestyle climbing through experiencing the moment. Wow! While we were climbing away, a group of four athletic types with a lot more climbing experience caught up with and joined our group. When we reached a particularly treacherous looking fall area, the girls opted to sit in the sun and wait for the guys to return from their “fun.” I watched as the guys made their way across the fall and up a high rock wall on the other side and I decided that, “I can do this, too.” I looked back at my girly and Hannah laying on a rock and my daughter yelled over the crash of the falls, “No mom, don’t do it.” I mouthed back, “It’ll be okay.” So with a little trepidation and a lot of determination, I set my foot on a rock in the water at the top of the first section of the fall. The water rushed over my foot and leg. It felt sturdy. I took another step and made my way over to a rock wall. I grabbed hold of the wall and pressed myself close to it and then eased my way down to a narrow ledge of rock that sloped down into another section of the fall. From there I had to jump across the fall into the water where the current wasn’t flowing as swift. I let go of the wall with one hand and lunged. I went completely under water, resurfaced and swam toward another rock wall that had a rope hanging down from it. I grabbed the rope and climbed my way to the top where I was met with congratulatory shouts. What a blast! I could go on and on about that day. I had so much fun. But I’ll spare you further detail. I will say, though, that the next time I go climbing, it will be with the experienced. There’s way too much room for error and the experienced definitely know what they’re doing. I walked away that day with a sunburn, an amazing feeling of exhilaration and an offer to learn to surf. Sweet! My daughter and I also loaded up her Saturn and took a road trip to Arizona to visit an Alaskan friend over Memorial Weekend. While my girl steered us toward Phoenix, I kicked off my shoes and propped my feet on the dash, reclined my seat a bit, relaxed my head on my arm and enjoyed the company, the tunes, the wind and the drive. When we reached the LA area, the congestion on the freeway slowed our rocketing pace to a 20-40 mph crawl and sometimes to a complete halt. In the midst of this slow procession, a professional looking guy in a sleek new car crawling next to us “hayed” for our attention. “You ladies from Alaska? That’s what the plates say. “I’ve been there myself. Oh, by the way, would you like my phone number?” I wondered how much success the man had with this approach. This encounter seemed to amuse the motorists crawling along with us. They craned heads and smiled big cheesy grins as they passed. Who needs the bar scene when you have the LA freeway. Goodness! Well, I could keep you reading for a long time sharing thoughts and experiences, but I’ll wrap it up here for you. I plan to spend the summer here in Cali and then I'll head North in the Fall. My plans are subject to change. You never know where the winds of life will blow you. But at present, this is what I have in mind. I will keep you informed as to my happenings and future plans. Thanks again for your emails and phone calls and letters. As always, I enjoy communicating with you. I hope that your lives are wonderful and that you’re happy. You’re in may thoughts and I am missing you And yes, I am even missing Alaska. Love, Nannette June 17, 2005
Short Update Life is lovely here in the land of sun, although adjusting to the heat is a challenge for this cold climate girl. I definitely utilize and appreciate the pool here at the condo. A nice cool dip on a scorching, hot day helps alleviate the discomfort. I’ve just signed up with temp agencies in Lancaster, Palmdale and Valencia to generate a little work. I thought I’d mix all this pleasure with a little business. My full plate of fun is mighty tasty but I think seasoning it with constructive activity will enhance the flavor. I am enjoying my full plate of fun. Though, I wonder if dropping from a height of 255’ at a velocity of up to 85 mph - on Goliath, a roller coaster ride at Six Flags or if being catapulted off a board by waves, somersaulted under water, drug across the ocean floor and then spewed to the surface where coughing salt water in an attempt to catch your breath as another wave breaks over your head constitutes what is considered fun. I suppose if a person contemplates repeating such activities they’re having fun or they’re a little coo-coo. Maybe it’s a mixture of the two. I’ve not yet decided. I have fun stories to share but I’ll fill you in on these and other activities in greater length at a later date. I hope your summer’s wonderful. Nannette |
AuthorAlways the storyteller, dad'd weave tales of nomadic Indian tribes and caravanning gypsies - all of whom we were somehow related, lol. Consequently, his yarns nurtured within me an Archives
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