Finding my way in the Big Apple and in-flight ramblings

 

Near Times Square, on 7th. It’s a whole different story in the evening!

A lot has transpired since my last post. Instead of trying to recap on it all, I’ve decided to start right here — where I’m at, at this very moment — and that’s in New York City. How did little ol’ me go from the wood pile in Fox to Times Square? Well, it’s a new job and a special training that’s taking place in one of the most vibrant places on Earth.

I’m sitting in an exorbitantly priced hotel room, clicking away on a laptop. I’m sipping water, watching “Diary of a Mad Black Woman,” eating dried mango and trying to relax my poor feet. You see, I failed to bring the right shoes to the Big Apple. I brought flats and heels and neither provide the cushion and comfort needed to maneuver the streets and see the sights after a long day of training. I had a feeling when I threw my shoes into the suitcase before leaving home. I did a double-take on some tried and true trainers I wear when I go to the gym, but I decided against it. I thought they weren’t fashionable enough, but now my vanity has left me with blisters on the bottoms of both feet. There is an upside, though.

The upside is the collection of shopping bags on the bed. Today, I walked with thousands of others around Times Square and shopped some of the most bizarre, crowded and visually arresting stores. I’m not kidding! Visually arresting. The H&M here has a two-story display INSIDE the store that’s currently flashing Gisele Bundchen in a bikini top and simulations of confetti swirling and throbbing to the

Think VERY CAREFULLY about the shoes you choose to take to New York. I did not and had broken, blistery feet the whole damn time.

beat of dance music. The Toys R Us has a flippin’ Ferris Wheel IN it. Everything’s loud and brimming with masses of people in this little section of the planet. It’s like a thriving hive, with millions of beings in a hurry to complete a myriad of tasks. It’s chaotic and beautiful and draining and thrilling and annoying and exciting all wrapped up into one unforgettable experience. I’ve walked through a throng of junior high kids on an organized trip of the city. I’ve accidently photo-bombed teens trying to get the perfect selfie on Broadway. I’ve declined to give money to the homeless and been yelled at. I’ve purchased a sandwich from a food cart on 7th. I thumbed through I ❤ NY postcards. I’ve gotten lost. I’ve wished I could throw the ear piece and phone of my cab driver out the window.

***

I brought a book. There is an in-flight movie. I could sleep, but right now I just want to write. So, what can I tell you about? Well, my flight is delayed. A man two rows behind me had a series of seizures while our plan was waiting to take off. As a result, the flight attendant informed the captain and our plane returned to the gate. We’re late, but that’s okay. I feel sorry for the guy. He spoke little English, was out of it, a little combative, and didn’t want to get off the plane. It took a doctor, two EMTs, three Port Authority Police Officers, a translator and a flight attendant to get him off the plane. He seemed embarrassed. Everyone gawked, including me.

The Zach Brock Quartet at the Jazz Standard.

I spent my last evening in New York by taking in some live music at the Jazz Standard. The little club is in the basement of Blue Smoke in the Murray Hill area of Manhattan. It was a great joint, known for the artists they showcase and the barbecue it serves. Last night, I watched a jazz violinist and his band in the early set. The group was the Zach Brock Quartet and they played songs from their new album, “Purple Sounds.” Although it looked delicious, I didn’t order a rack of ribs served up Memphis style. Instead, I had homemade barbecue chips served with bacon bleu cheese dip. It was utterly delicious. I’ve been to jazz clubs before, but it’s been a long while. What’s cool about jazz music is that the artists have a real affinity for the music. They know their history, revere artists that have come before them and can find a way to put a new spin on any of the old standards. In jazz, the focus isn’t solely on the vocals, but on all of the instruments. Everyone works hard, everyone gets their solo. There is an energy that’s created by this love for music and camaraderie. You can see it painted on the faces of the

This guy made me dinner one night. He was the nicest person I met on my trip!

musicians and you can feel it in the crowd. Last night, I looked around at the other folks in the dark club and they were all different ages and races and nationalities and everyone was grooving. A woman with a southern accent to my left was slapping the table and stomping her feet. A man seated beside me, would pull out a small notebook and make notes throughout the set. He’d close his eyes and nod his head to the rhythm. A Kurt Cobain lookalike who came alone and sat solo at a table for four sat dead-center of the stage, in the first row. He seemed to be painfully shy. He barely moved and was all hunkered in on himself. When he ordered his dinner, he seemed embarrassed. However, when each song ended, he would, for a moment, erupt into a fit of clapping. Three ladies to my right that seemed to be speaking Italian were disappointed the set was over within an hour. They wanted to hear more as they chomped on their French fries.

***

Rosie O’Grady’s was the first place I had dinner in NYC. Tasty food, nice atmosphere, easy access to my hotel. Nice.

I’m flying somewhere over Pennsylvania right now. I can see that we’ve just begun to fly over Lake Eerie. The water is a blue-green that I find surprising. I can smell in-air meals and I want one. I don’t care if I have to pay.

So, what’s waiting for me when I get home? I hope my family! They spent the week in the Chugiak/Eagle River area and I hope they’re home by the time I get back to Fairbanks. It’s been just a few days, but I miss them like crazy. I know they miss me, too. When I spoke to Shane he asked if I was lost. He wanted me to find my way home, so I could hold him on the couch. Awww. Poor little guy. Adam said the boy needs to learn how to take care of himself a little bit more. He’s right. Shane is a momma’s boy for sure. Gabriella’s more independent and, if she’s with her dad, she’s good to go. I can’t wait to see their faces when I hand over the treats I got for them in the city. It’ll be fun. I know they’re spoiled, but I love ‘em, love ‘em, love ‘em!!!

This baby won the Pulitzer.

I’m rambling now and the food and beverage cart is at my row. I better tell the flight attendant I want a water and a Snack Pack.

***

I just finished The Hours. I blasted through the book in record time. It was difficult at first. The long-winded descriptions of every trace of a thought or emotion among each of the characters in the book’s three simultaneous narratives is difficult to keep up with. It was hard to sort out who was who. But, much like a book written in dialect, once you’re brain gets used to the style, you can begin to immerse yourself.

So how did I like the book? Well, I just gave it a four out of five stars on GoodReads. I can see why it’s lauded by critics. It’s certainly very interesting in its structure. The weaving narratives are quite appealing. The subject matter is interesting too. The longing for death (or is it the longing for life?), while coping with a never-ending highway of the ordinary and mundane. Female desire to break out of prescribed roles and people in different eras grappling with depression. All of this is haunting and lovely. When I finished the book, I read some of the reviews online. Folks were very polarized. Many hailed this as a true piece of literature that will stand the test of time and it being every bit worthy of the Pullitizer Prize it won in 1999. On the other hand, people HATED it. Some claimed to only stick with it because it was endorsed by Oprah and they believed it must somehow turnaround or get better by its ending. One of the most critical reviews blasted the female characters – stating they were whiny and entitled.

I’m still processing the book, but I’m very impressed by the author’s ability to reach inside the complicated mind of a woman and put words to the emotional turmoil that’s sometimes there. I’ve never considered suicide like the characters in this book, but I could relate to their desire to disappear and leave all of the obligation behind. For wishing that being a care-taker was enough. Wishing for happiness or freedom or greatness that seem out of reach. Wishing for autonomy, but also being deeply in love with those we’re connected to. For someone who often feels the tug of all of these desires, I was impressed that the author so adeptly portrayed these complicated and conflicting emotions. It’s difficult to simultaneously experience both love and hate, regret and hope, pain and happiness, freedom and bondage. Let alone craft a novel around these conundrums. It’s amazing how complex God made us.

***

I’m not sure what the deal is, but I’m surrounded by kids of all ages. What was annoying at first is now humorous. They’re running the flight attendants like crazy! They’re not rude or anything, but they have endless requests – from trash to give away to wondering how to get out the life jackets to switching seats to how to work the movie players to more snacks to hating the brie on the cheese and fruit plate. I had to tell the young lady beside me that it wasn’t cheesecake! I imagine that biting into a wedge of brie and expecting cheesecake would be pretty horrible!

***

My flip flops just came apart.

 

 

Postcards from our Southern adventure

Which way to Atlanta?

In two weeks time, our family of four put more than 2,300 miles on a rented Mazda 6, exploring the backwoods and the highbrow of the South. We flew in and out of Atlanta, but Alabama was our main destination. We crisscrossed the state, spending spurts of time in Georgia, Mississippi, Tennessee and the Florida panhandle. Yes, it was amazing. However, since I can’t cover all that transpired in one post, I’m picking some of the highlights and lessons learned from the trip, so here goes.

Alabama radio is seriously lacking. Sorry, y’all, but it’s true. Since our family was spending quite a bit of time on the road, we perused the $5 bins for CDs in several Walmarts. Our menu of music was: The Band Perry, Lynyrd Skynyrd, Blackfoot, Alan Jackson and The

Don’t ask Shane!

Who. I almost added a Duran Duran’s greatest hits to the mix, but Adam was not enthused with my suggestion.

An iPhone mapping app is essential. We bought two maps and collected a free one from an Alabama rest stop, yet we still managed to depend on the step-by-step instructions issued to me by my iPhone. This was especially true when we were in Nashville. Nashville is awesome, but the freeways are crazy and running at full capacity all the time. They were daunting, so I served as the navigator, while Adam whizzed along.

Speaking of Nashville, here’s another lesson learned: Not all Econo Lodges are created equal. My online booking of a room in the downtown Nashville Econo Lodge was done after good luck with the hotel chain in southern Alabama. However, when we smelled our room and saw some of the guests from those surrounding us, we chose to eat the $57 dollars and look for a better place. It took some time, but we scored an awesome room in Brentwood. Hooray!

It doesn’t matter who you talk to in Alabama, every person likes to brag about the beautiful white beaches on the Gulf Coast. But seriously, why wouldn’t they brag? Check it out. Sand like sugar.

Sometimes you just need a good steak. After blathering on about the Gulf Coast to Adam for months, I had built up the notion that we were going to get fresh seafood. And not just your run-of-the-mill seafood, but seafood Southern-style. Well, after a day spent at the beach in Gulf Shores, AL, I was starved to death. Adam and I went back and forth discussing all of the options for dinner, but I had this crazy hankering for red meat (this isn’t normal for me), so we ended up going to a steak house where I had a gigundo rib eye and proceeded to eat every last morsel – including the fatty trim. There was no smidgen of seafood on either of our plates that night or any other in our entire trip. So all that talk about fresh seafood did nothing, but make us sick of it before we’d ever even eaten it. Huh.

Access to the dead is easy. I suppose it’s our sparse population and our snow and permafrost, but Alaska

Shane getting a swimming lesson from Dad.

doesn’t have many cemeteries, so it really struck me when we would drive past so many on our travels. Some were butted up right against residential neighborhoods or along major roads and all of this seemed unsettling. To me, cemeteries should be calm and serene, places where the dead can rest peacefully and their loved ones can visit to gather some solace. I’d be pissed if I were laying forever more by the endless drone of cars speeding down a highway or teenagers screaming orders into the microphone of Dairy Queen drive-thru.

The power of “bless their heart” statements. You can say pretty much anything and then add “bless their heart” at the end of it and it will erase any cruelty espoused. For example, and this is purely an example I’ve made up to prove my point, “She was just the ugliest little thing when she was born, bless her heart.” See? It really works.

Spanish moss. Well, it’s cool. That’s all.

Awesome playgrounds abound. I don’t know if we were just lucky

ME… on the beach. I’m almost as white as the sand. 🙂

or communities are learning that the key to get kids to play outside is to build amazing apparatuses and parks, but we found some cool places for Gabriella and Shane to play. The Gulf Shores playground was our first find. It was just down the road from the Civic Center and was built in the shade, but the structures and equipment encompassed a huge area. There were educational pictures and information built onto the sides of the structures that provided history of the area and facts about sea life found in the nearby ocean. It was super cool. Then, in Nashville, there was a great park at the Nashville Zoo at Grassmere. This thing was enormous! It was so big we actually lost our kid in it! I know the playground had to be more than an acre in size – and that’s the connected structures I’m talking about, not just the grounds. They had a three-story swirly-slide for God’s sake and a “tot lot” for toddlers where everything was covered in mats. Can you say “hallelujah?” Yeah, it was beyond cool after schlepping the kids through the zoo on a hot day.

Common pleasantries. It’s so nice to be called “Ms. Amy” or to have a young lady say, “Thank you, Ma’am” or to have the mail carrier bring my grandmother’s mail all the way up her driveway, so

Gabriella and her cousins, Rhylynn and D., all decked out for the hottest wedding I’ve ever attended (nearly died of heat stroke after I wolfed down some stuffed mushrooms in the muggy heat with gnats in my face).

she can save her the trip and check on her. It’s so refreshing to hear people speak and act kindly to one another – especially strangers. Don’t get me wrong, people can be kind everywhere, but it’s nice to have a sense of formality, manners and displayed respect for those older than you.

Being around family should be relaxing. I am an anxious freak. I worry about all sorts of things that seem extremely dumb when I have time to reflect back on it. One such worry was whether my kids would annoy the heck out of my family members. After all, it’s been some time since many – especially my grandmother in her 80s – have been around small children. I worried and worried and fretted about my kids’ behavior, but to my delightful surprise the mellowest, helpful person of all was my grandmother. She rocked Shane for more than an hour to get him to sleep; she endured Gabriella’s bossy potty mouth and

Rhylynn and Gabriella are mesmerized by the imaginary baby in this stroller!

made sure that none of us went hungry (not even for a second). She was awesome. She helped me chill and enjoy myself without worrying that she was going to explode if my children screamed or slammed a toy car across the coffee table. She said, “Amy, I’ve just about seen it ALL. They’re just kids.” It was cool. My grandma wasn’t the only one to help, many others did too, but I must give the woman props, I mean she’s 83-years-old for goodness sakes.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Shane and I at the Nashville Zoo at Grassmere.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I was most excited to visit the Flamingo Lagoon at the zoo. So cool!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Gabriella on the go at the Gulf Shores kids park.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

See what I mean? Who wouldn’t have fun in this giant playground? I don’t know where any of the kids were when I took this picture. Weird. Just noticed that.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Shane’s hat was a big hit on the beach.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Gabriella and Adam at the entrance to Grassmere in Nashville.

 

What I learned in San Francisco

There was almost a full moon.

Don’t snag a cup of coffee just because it’s the same thing you ordered. People are feisty about their coffee. If you’re wrong, you may just get berated in Italian as I did in an Organic Coffee Co.

Wear comfy shoes. You’ll be walking and typically at a fast pace. The crowd doesn’t slow down to accommodate a wobbly, unsure stride.

One block can make all the difference. For instance, just two and half blocks past Bloomingdale’s you’re in Crackville. I walked that direction to find the Warfield Theatre. I was out and about around 12:30 p.m. on a random Tuesday and I passed some interesting characters. The further I got, the more hyper-aware I became of my pink backpack and straight-laced look.

Anything can happen at anytime. I was right behind a man that did a B-line from the crowd and did a karate-kick, knocking the Salvation Army sign into a poor woman in a Santa hat. After the kick, he kept walking, so did everyone else. Then I realized what he was sipping was a giant can of Budweiser. Nobody seemed surprised except for the poor Santa hat woman. She yelled, “What’s your problem?” I wanted to ask if she was okay, but I didn’t. I kept walking too.

When you're in the Warfield Theatre -- look up!

Smokers can feel the impact of a strong anti-tobacco campaign underway in California. Cigarettes aren’t easy to find. And although you can smoke as you walk, it’s can be difficult to stop and smoke. Fancy, schmancy restaurants and hotels require smokers to be more than 25 feet from their doors and if a smoker finds a nook to partake, then they must endure the abhorrence of serious anti-smokers who stare with expressions of disgust or tell their kids “Smoking is bad!” Here, smoking isn’t cool.

Grab a French panini to munch on when you're killing time before your flight.

There’s so much to do, see and get, you’ll likely blow your budget. Access to trendy shopping, eclectic eateries, the art and music scene, the beautiful Bay area landscape – all of this pulls at the purse strings. The key is to spend sparingly on items that you must carry, but be open to spending an additional $10 for an entrée. Take advantage of the free stuff. There is an abundance of free stuff everywhere as so many entities are competing for your time, your stomach and your pocketbook. Keep your eye out for the goodies. I’ve snagged a free lunch, specialty chocolate, newspapers, luggage tags, an energy shot, calendars, and even free beer. Hey, I’m all about the free.

DON’T WEAR A CONFERENCE BADGE AROUND TOWN. Not only does this look silly, but also you’re a sure-fire target for the crack-head on the corner. If you wanna get hustled keep it on, otherwise, only place that lanyard around your neck when you walk through the Moscone doors. Just sayin’. Coordinators even print the safety tip in their conference program, so take heed. Dress in layers. It can get hot, especially if you’re doing a great bit of walking. It can also quickly turn cold if you’re headed toward the water and it’s windy.

Take a moment and look up, look around. It’s beautiful! The buildings are amazing and they’re everywhere. Old stuff, new stuff, pillars, ornate moulding, manicured gardens on a rooftop, small oases and plazas — there’s plenty to admire.

 

Remembering the wild

A dose of mountain energy is apparently good for the soul.

“I’m going to put my head over that sink. I need to pour some cold water over my head.”

About 48 hours ago (at the time I wrote this entry), Adam wasn’t home, he was running on the flank of Mount St. Helens in southwestern Washington. He was there visiting his family and they all made the trek to the volcanic monument.

Adam said he was surprised by the size of the trees, especially when he saw the part of the mountain that exploded in a volcanic eruption in 1980. Massive trees were blown over, snapped like twigs.

“A round of one of those trees could fill your dump truck,” he said.

Adam is not a city guy and his family knows this. Therefore, they kindly created an outdoorsy schedule that energized and renewed my husband. This is just what I was hoping for. Adam came back excited. He says it was the pure energy of the mountains he got to romp on when he was away — Mount St. Helens and Mount Rainier.

It was on Mount St. Helens that Adam decided he’d run, again. The mountain hovers around 11,000 feet. He was on a ridge above the lava dome on the northeastern side at about 5,000 feet.

I asked Adam, what he was thinking when he was running. I was curious. Did he think about how long it would take, the scenery, did he listen to music? What was pushing him along?

“I was thinking about how thin the air was and how I needed to fill my lungs to their complete capacity as fast as I could to keep an oxygen reserve in my blood bank,” he said.

“That’s all you were thinking? What else”, I pushed, skeptical.

“No, I was thinking about my brothers and sister at the viewpoint watching me run. Wondering how long it would take me to get to a spot where they would see me again.”

While Adam ran, his family was watching through a bank of telescopes at a viewpoint. Earlier, the group had seen about 20 elk on a knoll. From afar, they’d peered at them too. On the ridge, as the evening started to cool, Adam would come close to one of the elk again.

He heard an elk very near to the trail. It’s funny because Adam can mimic the sound of it. He’s one of those people that can contort his hand into a whacky fist, put it up to his mouth and manage to echo the sound of a moose, bird calls and more by blowing into it. I like this trait. He doesn’t fail this time. He makes the gutteral oowh and a funky whistle.

Spotting the elk was reminiscent of Adam’s previous visit with his mother and sister. The two had met us in Alaska and traveled to Valdez. On our drive back to Fairbanks we saw a stand of buffalo south of Delta. There were about ten calves, we all took turns checking them out through the binoculars. Everyone was surprised that we saw them. They were perfectly camouflaged against the grassy river valley.

Adam’s quick eye had spotted them from the highway, while driving. He quickly pulled over and hopped out with the binoculars. We followed suit. I don’t know why this was such a poignant moment for him, but it was somehow. He was glad to have been able to show his mom and sister the wildlife. I think Adam likes to be their link to nature. They all seem to have an appreciation for it. From what I see, on the outside, it’s like deja vu, something they were close to once before that now is even more special when it’s re-experienced together.

Gloria, Bill and Dora.

 

Anchorage garage sale

This box was better than any toy you could give my child. Gabriella carried this box around the whole weekend. She brought inside the house, outside the house, colored it with Crayons and used it as a table.

It may seem strange to drive more than 350 miles to help with a garage sale, but that’s how I roll. A young friend of mine is headed to Europe, so I thought I’d support the effort by helping with a garage sale that’s going to help fund the trip. I thought I was really going to have to work, but my friend, Shelley made things easy. She had everything organized and a team of young folks to work the sale. They organized stuff and dealt with the customers. Easy, right?! Anytime a garage-saler would ask a price, we’d yell to Sami or Mathew. They’d throw out a price and if it was agreeable, they took the garage-saler’s money. Basically, I ended up hanging out by a garage sale all day long, saying “Hi” here and there and straightening up the kids’ toys that my daughter romped in for several hours. It was pretty chill.

Anchorage was sunny and windy. Luckily, the wind wasn’t chilly, so it made for a pretty great day outside. Some of our garage-sale team even got a little pink from the sun. I, on the other hand, didn’t get sun-kissed. I’m still mega white. Don’t know why, but it takes a lot to turn this white skin brown!

Being in Anchorage made me miss living there. I so enjoyed my time in the city. Oh, well. I’ll be back soon. I’m helping with phase two of the garage sale on Memorial Day weekend. If you’re in Anchorage check it out! Seriously.

Good night!

All the work at the garage sale made this girl thirsty. Note the box right by her side!

The one time Gabriella stood still during the whole garage sale. This lasted about two seconds.

I took this photo of myself at about 10 a.m. on Saturday morning at my friend Shelley’s house in Anchorage. The point of the trip was to help her with a garage sale fundraiser.

Shane chilled out in his bouncy chair. Sometimes he slept and other times he kept himself busy rocking and kicking his feet.

Shane wasn’t as excited as I was about the little baby maraca I found in the garage sale stuff.

Look how organized this garage is AFTER the sale. It will all be pulled out again for another sale soon!

Sami was posing for a whacky picture. Brittany is slaving away on a box of old linens in the background.

Tarp fun! Really, one blue tarp kept two teenagers entertained for about six minutes. Do you believe it?

Before the two tried to fly away with the tarp!

Despite the warning, many a garage-salers went wonky on the mysterious drop-off just before the garage.

 

Fort Yukon Adventure

Fort Yukon is located 145 miles northeast of Fairbanks.

Sometimes my job offers up some exciting opportunities. On Thursday, I traveled with staff from Poker Flat Research Range and NASA to the village of Fort Yukon. I didn’t know what to expect. I’d heard that Fort Yukon was sort of a tough village, the type of place that isn’t too keen to white folks. If that’s the case, I didn’t experience it. Granted, I was only there for a day, but everyone I encountered was pleasant enough. So, cool!

Fort Yukon is so small that our arrival was sort of a big deal. We were picked up by giant, heavy-duty pick-up trucks from the Fort Yukon Long Range Radar Site, an Air Force installation manned by two guys that work two months on, one month off. The guys were obviously happy to have new folks to talk to. They entertained us for an hour or two. They brought me and a couple of others back to the base to check out the digs and have lunch. It was crazy! The site looks like any other military installation where everything’s clearly marked with a building number, matching paint and clear signage. On the inside of what amounted to a mini-Club, there were the obligatory photos of high-ranking Air Force officials, a huge big screen TV (decked out with every channel under the sun), pool table, kitchen and dining area.

One of the fellow’s at the range explained how he spent his time there getting “ripped” and learning to cook healthy. He explained that every three weeks he could order whatever he wanted, in terms of groceries. So, for lunch we had fresh, hand-pressed smoked gouda burgers. The damn burgers were so huge, though, I only ate about a quarter of it! I missed dinner, but I later heard from colleagues that he whipped up an awesome spread of fresh asparagus, NY strip steaks and scallops!

Once you left the base, though, you were immersed in rural Alaska — people speeding down the street on four-wheelers, dog teams lined up outside of raggedy homes, old snowmachines parked in front yards, a one-room airport. It’s definitely different.

The focus of my trip to Fort Yukon was centered around activities in the Tribal Hall, a big open cabin, with plywood floors and a stove burning hot. As is custom for guests traveling to rural Alaska, we brought a ton of fresh fruit and vegetables that were set out like a buffet. The food was welcomed by all that came to speak with our group at the hall. In fact, some folks just stopped in for the food and left with their plate. Through the experience, though, I witnessed what had been explained to me as “Native time.” Our meeting officially began at 1 p.m., however, folks rolled in more than a half an hour after we were there. This wasn’t an indication of their indifference to our presence, though. In fact, some of these folks were very engaged and interested, just starting promptly on-the-dot wasn’t much of a concern. These were the details I found so fascinating. Plus, news such as gas goes for $7.48 a gallon right now!

Here are some other cool things I learned about Fort Yukon:

*The village is Gwich’in and the Native name for it is “Gwicyaa Zhee,” which means “House on the Flats.” It was established about 1847 as a post for the Hudson Bay Company.

*In the 1950s, the U.S. Air Force set up a radar station there. This small site is tied into our country’s air space surveillance.

*Fort Yukon is located on the north bank of the Yukon River at its junction with the Porcupine River.

*According to the 2010 Census, there were 583 residents in the village. The racial make-up of the community is 88.7 percent Alaska Native, or part Native.

I really had to buck-up for this adventure because I have a fear of small planes. I brought this topaz and cross pendant of my grandmother's for good luck. It worked!

Although the flights to and from Fort Yukon were awesome, I was glad to have my feet back on the ground at the end of the day.

I hitched a ride back from Fort Yukon on this U.S. Fish & Wildlife Service plane. It was awesome!!! We flew about 600 feet above the ground, so I could really see the terrain and I had some excellent guides.

 

33 aint so bad

Gabriella and I before we mowed on blueberry pancakes at an IHOP in Anchorage last weekend.

On September 12, I turned 33. Me? 33? I mean, I don’t necessarily think 33 is old, but I just can’t believe that I’m already approaching mid-30s. I can now claim certain friendships that have lasted for two decades. I’ve held the same job for nearly seven years and nowadays I would totally prefer being in bed by 10 p.m. on a random Wednesday than cozying up to the bar at the Marlin. How did I suddenly become grown up? It’s weird. I still feel the same on the inside. Yet on the outside, I have furrows in my forehead, laugh lines and some extra hunks, if you know what I mean. I’m what I used to consider “old.”

Despite my surprise at how quickly 33 came, I can’t say that being 33 is all that bad. Granted, I’ve only experienced this age for a few days, but so far, so good. This was actually a pretty cool birthday, with festivities spread out for nearly a week. I began the celebration by taking off a few days from work and then packing up the fam for a trip to Anchorage. I was eager to make a drive before the snow fell and I love fall, so I knew the colors along the Parks Highway would be amazing this time of year. I was right. Nature did not disappoint. The whole drive down to Anchorage was gorgeous. Plus, the weather cooperated for our long weekend there. Instead of overcast skies and rain, we were treated to hot weather, awesome views of the Chugach and sun, sun, sun.

In Anchorage, I got to visit with old chums that I was close to when I lived there, I did some power shopping on my own while Adam watched Gabriella, and we explored some of the trails along the Campbell Airstrip. It was cool. I love the extensive trail system in Anchorage! I used to rollerblade nearly everyday when I lived there. I’d like to bring the blades the next time I go down (and I’m not pregnant) and just zoom around for a while. I miss it.

Beyond the me-time, it was a lot of fun to take Gabriella to Chuck E. Cheese’s. That girl was wild as a buck from the moment she passed through the building’s doors! One time I picked her up and it felt like her heart was going to pound right out of her chest! She was thrilled to crawl up the slide and roam through the tunnels. Yes, she’s into slides and tunnels anyway, but these tunnels were different from any she’d been in before. They were too small for an adult to get through, so she could just roam and roam and roam as long as she wanted. I was totally at her mercy. The only way I got the girl to ingest some pizza was to stake out the bottom of the slide and wait for her to pour out. Once I saw the lights blinking in her shoes reflect off the side of the slide, I positioned myself to scoop her up before she realized who had her. It was like stalking a wild animal or something! The only disappointing thing about the visit to Chuck E. Cheese’s was no beer. Yeah, NO beer. When did that happen? I always thought that was the wisest thing the creators of the business could ever do—you know, offer parents the opportunity to sip on a beer while they endure the chaos of hoards of children under the age of 10. Not that I could have drunk beer at this visit, but Adam could have, and he certainly deserved one after being one-on-one with Gabriella all day while I shopped!

The drive back to Fairbanks took nine hours! We took our time because it was such an amazing day and the sites were gorgeous along the route home. We stopped at one of the viewpoints of Denali and fiddled around a bit. The mountain was out in full force and there were literally hundreds of people at the wayside. The view really was amazing, so I tried to get some shots of the fam in front of the mountain. I was partially successful!

When I returned to work on Monday, I was surprised by a decorated office and a birthday brunch from my coworkers, complete with a caramel latte, blueberry coffee cake and an extra super gooey totally fattening yet delicious cinnamon roll bigger than my fist! I guess these people know me pretty darn well, huh? Got a coffee card to boot, too!

The week kept getting better. I met some girlfriends out for a nice din-din at Lavelle’s where others enjoyed snazzy wines, while I thoroughly enjoyed my extra-large Shirley Temples and a bomb salad made from local produce. I got a certificate for a free massage and essential oil, a cool book of poetry, a check from my momma, flowers from my husband and tons of sweet texts from family and friends.

The best birthday gift of all, though, came on Wednesday. At 8:30 a.m. my family and I watched the screen during my ultrasound and were informed that we were expecting a boy! Although Gabriella really didn’t understand what was up, it meant a great deal to me to have her there when I learned the news. Everyone just expected we’d have another girl—including Adam and I, so getting this news was quite the surprise. Adam’s over the moon! We already have a name picked out and now I’m all about stocking up on goods for a boy!

So, again, being 33 aint so bad. My life may not be what it once was, but I’m still happy. I’ve got a cool family, a network of interesting and funny friends and a career that’s perking up a bit. I guess I’m learning that being mature allows you to take comfort in and enjoy simple things like a leisurely drive through Denali Park or watching your kid give another child a hug at Chuck E. Cheese’s just because she feels like it or having your husband say he thinks you’re beautiful. These aren’t the crazy, larger-than-life things that I craved ten years ago, but somehow they’re what make me happy now. Huh…

Really?! Who needs this much chicken-fried steak?

Gabriella was not impressed by the IHOP crayons.

Gabriella and Adam posing for a photo at the Denali Viewpoint South on Sept. 12, 2010.

The view of Denali is never this good. We got lucky!

When I got back to work, I found that my coworkers had decorated my office!

 

Dipnets empty in Chitina, Alaska

The Copper River originates from the Copper Glacier on Mount Wrangell in the Wrangell-Saint Elias National Park. The massive river is about 300 miles long.

After two weeks of bragging about my history of dipnetting and my luck for drawing up nets with two, sometimes three, salmon at a time from the Copper River, it all bit me in the ass.

Early Saturday, my family loaded up the truck and set off for the five-and-a-half-hour drive southeast to the tiny Alaska town of Chitina. I was amped to get out of town and my excitement led to my complete dismissal of the dark omens that were cropping up everywhere. All of them were pretty clear indicators that traveling on that particular weekend wasn’t the best idea. But I ignored them, or chalked it all up as obstacles that my family could certainly endure for the sake of pulling in 30 fresh salmon. WRONG!

The first omen was my child, who is healthy as a horse, cried out in the middle of the night. She had thrown up and was scared. Gabriella has only thrown up one other time in her two years, so this was scary for the whole family. My little boober had a stomach issue and a fever. Despite this, I thought: “Well, we’ll be in the truck for hours on end tomorrow. She can just sleep off the bug in the truck. She’ll be alright.” Now, Gabriella was certainly a sport. She endured the trip and whimpered a bit here and there, and she didn’t get physically ill again. However, she was clingy and prone to tears. But this was typical, I thought. I mean, kids get sick, right? That doesn’t mean I have to cancel the trip and lose my reservation at the historic Hotel Chitina. Does it?

The second omen was actually more than an omen. It was straight up advice to bag the trip! Adam called the Chitina fishing hotline before we left. The first recorded words on the message were: “If you’re planning to come to Chitina to fish this weekend, don’t.” The message went on to describe how the waters of the Copper River were extremely high — the highest of the season — but this didn’t deter me. I told Adam that the guys running the charter service would know the river like the backs of their hands; they’d be able to find an eddy in the canyon, surely. Again, I was a dummy.

Later on Saturday, upon our arrival in Chitina, we went down to O’Brien Creek to check in with our buddy who works the local charter. To our dismay, Sam was gone. He had to book it out of town to get a part for his boat. No Sam, meant no charter. Third omen.

Finally, I decided to just get the fish out of my head. I tried to convince myself that the fish were a bonus; that the trip alone was good enough, despite the hiccups with Gabriella’s illness and Sam’s disappearance. I tried to perk up. We grabbed our kite (freshly purchased at the only supermarket in nearby Glennallen) and hit the banks of the Copper River. The wind whipped and the birds squealed all around us, but the conditions were prime for kite flying. For about an hour it was fun. Then it was like, “Now what?”

We decided to get something to eat at the local restaurant. Surprisingly, the food was awesome! Chitina may be out in the boondocks, but I had the best fettuccine Alfredo I’ve had in my whole life! If no one were around I would have slurped every last gooey, cheesy morsel out of the dish, but people were around, speaking German and playing some strange game with dice.

After dinner it was time to settle into our room upstairs in the Hotel Chitina. We had room 1, “right up the stairs and around the corner.” The accommodations weren’t five star, but they were cozy enough. It was a cool experience to sleep in a room that has been offered up since 1914. No ghost stories to report, although I had secretly hoped to experience something eerie in the old place.

The next day, Adam headed to the Native Village of Chitina to find our friend Roger, a local and Sam’s brother. We were sure he’d be in the know on the fishing scenario and at the very least, could entertain us with his wild antics! Roger was found and he headed back to town to visit with me, Gabriella and our friends Jasmine, Kerey and Zander. Roger is a hoot! He pulled into the park where we were chillin’ in an old green Subaru blasting Black Sabbath, wearing an “Alaska Grown” sweatshirt and smoking a rolled one. He explained that he has an old RV parked at O’Brien Creek for the season with a camp ready-to-go if we want to hang out or stay there. We were all on board, so he nabbed his case of MGD and met us at the site.

Now, with a stake claimed, O’Brien Creek was pretty fun. Despite the fact it was a Sunday, the small staging area for fishing was jammin’ with RVs, fishermen and partiers galore. So, despite the fact there were no fish for my family on this trip to Chitina, I did have a good time just witnessing the spectacle that takes place during the annual salmon run in the tiny town. After a few hours, Adam decided to at least try to scoop something up from the banks of the Copper, so he and Kerey hiked up a ways and swooped the huge dipnets through the silty water. No luck. The fishing report was right — the water was high and the fishing was bad.

We headed back to Fairbanks early with no fish in the cooler. We did have our little Gabriella back to her ol’ self, though. I’ve learned from this experience that the next time I plan to go on an amazing adventure, I won’t jinx myself by talking it up before I even go and I’ll definitely be sure to take heed when life offers up so many indicators to shift gears on my grandiose plans.

Anyone up for a trip next weekend?

Me and Boober in front of the Chitina Emporium, which in years past, boasted cool crystals, geodes and fresh herbs. Unfortunately, the store was closed this trip.

Downtown Chitina, Alaska. Year-round population is 123. Who knows what the population jumps to when the salmon run’s hot in the summer!

Roger’s camp was complete with RV, fire ring, fire wood, camping chairs and a basketball hoop. Hallelujah!

 

Quick trip to Valdez

 

Looking off the deck into the Port of Valdez. This was the first photo I took from the "Glacier Spirit."

On Friday, Adam, Gabriella, four puppies, and I loaded up and headed down the Richardson Highway to Valdez. Our truck was so stuffed, that Gabriella was completely surrounded by sleeping bags, camping food, backpacks and more in her car seat in the back seat. She seemed to sorta like it, though, which is strange.

Anyway, we went to Valdez because I had scooped up some awesome Stan Stephens Cruise tickets for my family. We got a bomb deal on a seven-hour wildlife-viewing cruise into Prince William Sound, along with a free night’s stay in the local Best Western. We were jazzed! We don’t often get to Valdez, and the thought of seeing a bunch of sea otters and whales had us giddy. Well, at least me anyway. I’ve always had a thing for sea otters, and I used to claim to want one for a pet. Now that I know that they can get up to five feet long, I’m glad no one ever granted that childhood wish!

So, we rolled into Valdez and met up with Adam’s sister and mother up from Seattle. After a bunch of visiting we bedded down for the night, so we’d be all bushy-tailed for the long cruise on Saturday. When I awoke on Saturday, I couldn’t believe my eyes. The National Weather Service had claimed weather in Valdez would be rainy and in the 30s to 50s, depending on the wind. However, there was absolutely no trace of rain! The sun was a big blazing ball in the sky, and it was actually hot right on the harbor! I was thankful. 

We boarded the “Glacier Spirit” and were handed information about the various animals we might see on the voyage to Columbia Glacier. There were tons! And as soon as we were leaving the Port of Valdez, there were humpback whales! It was awesome! In all, we saw whales, tons of sea otters (hooray!), hundreds of sea lions at a couple of different haul outs, sea birds galore, and some amazing Dall’s porpoises! The porpoises were a real treat. Heck, I didn’t even know that we had porpoises in Alaska, so it was cool when one was swimming right by me on the edge of the boat. They’re really cool because they’re black with white markings. 

In addition to the wildlife we saw just amazing scenery through the Valdez Narrows, and then as we got closer to Columbia Glacier, the icebergs were a trip. Valdez is such a beautiful, beautiful place. Between the mountains, and the ocean, and the waterfalls, and the wildlife, I’d have to say it’s about one of the most gorgeous places I’ve ever been. 

But seven hours on a boat is a long, long time. My family was done at about four hours.

Next time I go to Valdez, I want to rent a kayak and explore the sound that way. I can’t imagine anything more exhilarating than gliding through those waters. However, if a humpback whale breached beside me, I would probably shit my spray skirt! Despite the fact that that could happen, I’m willing to take my chances!

Surrounded by icebergs near the terminus of Columbia Glacier.

Gabs checking out the scenery from inside the boat.

Dora and Gloria, Adam's mom and sister, joined us for the trip to Valdez. They then followed us back up to Fairbanks.

Adam and Gabriella walking along the Valdez Harbor before we boarded the boat. See what I mean about the great weather?!

 

Into the smoky wilds

The Stiles Creek Cabin, located in the Chena River State Recreation Area.

 

My family decided to go cheap and stay close this Memorial Day Weekend. So, we loaded up a pair of four-wheelers and headed out to the Chena River State Recreation Area. There, I had reserved a public use cabin called the Stiles Creek Cabin. To access this particular cabin you have to hike or take an ATV about seven miles through various terrain. The reservation for this baby was its own comedy, though.

About two weeks prior I was perusing the various cabins and the corresponding reservation system on the Alaska Department of Natural Resources site. The cabins, at $25 per night, are in high-demand in the summer, especially over holiday weekends. So, when I saw that a decent cabin near Fairbanks was available over the Memorial Day weekend I just couldn’t believe my eyes! I sorta skimmed over the details, plugged in my credit card information, and poof! I had scooped up a cabin rental over the first long holiday weekend of the summer. I felt so proud of myself. Then I looked at the map, so I could see just how far down Chena Hot Springs Road I would have to drive to reach the cabin. Well, that’s when I realized why the cabin was free. It was out in the frickin’ boondocks!!! You  have to drive to mile 31.6 Chena Hot Springs Road, east of Fairbanks. There, you park, unload your gear, and then schlep it all those miles back into the wilderness to the cabin. You can imagine my initial reaction: WTF have I done?! After the shock wore off, I realized that this could actually be a cool adventure. We have one four-wheeler and could easily borrow another, so the trip was doable. Slowly but surely, I warmed up to the idea. By the start of last weekend, I was really excited about exploring the trail system and trying to find a cabin out in the wilds of Interior Alaska. I couldn’t wait to hop on the ATV and hit the trail!

Since Adam and I had never been on the trail system in the Chena River State Recreation Area, we had no idea what to expect. However, despite a few mushy spots (where I got stuck only once!), and some washboard conditions on some of the ridge lines, the ride was awesome! The miles of trail go through all sorts of conditions: from thickly wooded switchbacks to steep vertical climbs with terrific vistas, or at least I’m assuming the views were wonderful. Thick smoke covered the Interior last weekend, so I couldn’t see too far in the distance, but I imagine it’s absolutely lovely looking out over rolling hills of nothing but trees, and trees, and trees. 

We took a few breaks along the way since we had Gabriella with us. When we’d turn off the four-wheelers, it was so nice to hear just the wind in the trees and birds chirping. It’s great to get away and be surrounded by only the sounds of nature.

Once we got to the cabin, we were exhausted! I felt like my arms would fall right off my body. And my hands? My hands were killing me! It may be hard to believe, but it was quite the workout trying to maneuver a loaded ATV through the wilderness! After a quick scan of the area, and some piddling about, I began dinner on the wood stove. Steak, salmon, home fries and icy limeade were on the menu. After such a long, hard trip, this dinner was like the best meal I had experienced in I don’t know how long! 

The adventure was totally cool. I have to recommend the Stiles Creek Cabin to all! Go check it out! We plan to go back in winter and take snowmachines up to the cabin site. I would imagine the trek will be much smoother and quicker when it’s covered in snow. And without the smoke, the scenery will be awesome! I’m already looking forward to it.

Oh, lesson learned. I will definitely read all the details before reserving the next public use cabin. I may accidentally commit myself to a bit more adventure than I intended and have to swim six miles upstream to access a dank, sod-roofed cabin, if I’m not careful!

Adam and one of his lead dogs, Chena. This awesome dog would run much of the distance to and from the cabin along the side of Adam's four-wheeler!

 

My Scraggily McGoo and me pose for this photo for Adam!

 

I found this note from a park ranger in the cabin's log book.

 

Here, Adam gets to stokin' the stove, while Gabriella supervises.

 

Cooking on a wood stove is pretty easy if you have tin foil.