Roadtrip

I'd grown tired from the constant, slight swaying of the ferry and reading Charles Dickens' A Tale of Two Cities. We'd been on board the Kennicot motor vessel, cruising the inside passage of Alaska for almost two full days. The night before I 'd started listening to half finished podcasts that had never fully interested me. The one entitle "Roadtrip" was next. I thought, naturally, about how ironic that was. So I sat down on the observation deck with my cell phone and camera, and listened. It was the most "alone" time I'd had--outside of showers--in about two and a half weeks. Mind you, that meant no one was sitting directly next to me, hogging my air and personal space; but the deck was still teeming with people.....talking, to my annoyance. Couldn't they see I needed them to temporarily disappear so I could regain some sanity? But, of course not.
Anyway, the podcast began and the narrator--I've no idea his name right now, something alittle strange to go with his strange, slightly high pitched voice--opened with his usual introduction of the show. He explained that the hparts of the show--three acts...maybe four..i dont remember right now. The acts were different short stories, one about a guy riding the greyhound bus, another about a couple traveling in europe, and the last that I remember about a woman following a comedian on tour--the comedian was rather old.
Each part was narrated by the participants of the story. The host/beginning narrator of the show made a comment that got me thinking--Americans set out on roadtrips with high expectations, and ar eusually disappointed.
As I'm sitting here, staring blankly out the front windows of the ferry, megan next to me, and a few dozen other passengers milling about, I would have to agree with NPR's This American Life. Although I have only made two entries on the unofficial chronicle of this epic vacation, this--I'm sure--will be far different from the first.
I have not been completely disappointed. The national parks were beautiful, the cold unforgettable, and this ferry almost peaceful. The original optimism, the "finding myself' attitude, however, has definitely worn off.
Alaska is a beautiful place. The mountains outside the windos are nice, an odd bluish-gray that fades into a dark-forest green as they float slowly by. We've seen bald eagles and a few whales (actually a few hours after I initially wrote this, we saw three or four orcas and maybe ten humpback whales, and a porpose or two). Waterfalls dropping I-dont-know how many feet off the edges of cliffs and flowing into the waterways we have been going through. Our berth is comfortable enough..no windows so the early sunrises at 4:30 am don't wake us up and force us into much longer days than we anticipated--as happened with many "nights" along the way thus far. This ferry ride has been....breath taking?
Except...there is no internet or cell service--I'm actually typing this on my phone's memo pad to post later. There is nothing to do, save stare out the window, or read, or listen to music, or a combination of the three. To be honest, I've had a slight twinge of anxiety. There are things that I must do....needing internet. There are people that I need to call--although when I did call while docked in Ketchikan and the individuals didn't answer I was not surprised, far more irritated than usual, but again not overly surprised. Although these things could theoretically wait until we arrive in juneau... or back home.. there is a need to connect with people beyond the three other people I'm trapped in this never ending adventure that may turn into a curse.
When we dock in Juneau, it is not the beginning of the end, rather almost the beginning itself. We have yet to travel to Sitka, Haines, and Skagway. We need to see Anchorage, Fairbanks, and Denali. My Father wants to drive our already tired wan down a practically non-existant gravel road to see a wooden sign that reads "Welcome to the Arctic Circle"....sometimes I wish we could pretend we went. Then we must drag ourselves, our van, and our stuff back across the continent--not through the United States mind you, but through Canada. Meaning for the better part of a week, I will go with no cell serve on pain of an astronomically high phone bill. Did you know Sprint doesn't have an international plan at all? How stupid is that? The last leg of our journey will be to cath another, far shorter ferry from Canada to the Upper Peninsula of Michigan and drive the rest of the way home.
There is still camping to be camped...... there is still driving to be driven.
And yet, I am already waiting for the day we turn our headlights back east and head for home.... well... that's not entirely true. I'm glad for this....vacation? pilgrimage? trek?   I'm not sure what to call it anymore. From the feet of snow enveloping our campstie to the intense hours of driving yet ahead... what would you call this?
Again, it seems as though were heading sraight for another random island. Although I know the captain will turn the boat well in advance of us running agroud, it is still mildly unsettling to be barrleing ahead at 15+knots at an island the size of Texas. Well maybe not that big, but large enough to take up a good portion of the current horizon. For some reason I feel like we're traveling south, seemingly counter-productive. The sun is beginning to set to my right. Although it will be another two or three hours before the sun is low enough on the horizon to make the islands and mountains catch fire momentarily.
It has been a good trip thsu far. The miles of inland water are floating by and anticipation is beginning to build. Tomorrow morning, far earlier that I'll want to be up, we'll dock in Juneau be be rid of this god-forsaken ship...only to board another at some point to sail to Sitka, and later Haines. Those trips will be shorter, but still...a mountain is a mountain and a waterway is a waterway...they've all started looking the same. Hopefully I will be able to catch up on some much needed internet usage. Perhaps my outlook will be a bit better afterwards...recenter myself..... probably not.
I am no longer amused by the "harmful" banter between the other three in my family. I'm ready to be back to my usual routine: eat, school, work, more school, more eating, more school, and sleeping. I'm not wishing my summer away; just wishing for the constant, the routine, the thing I can rely on to always be the same.... irritating and difficult, yet always the same.
Yes, I'm a bit pessimistic at this point. But hey, if you were stuck in a small van with nothing but your immediate family for a seeminlgy indefinite and undefined period of time.....wouldn't you?
"Roadtrip"...are you on one? They are fantastic and yet terrible. They are fun and yet boring.
Alaska is here...or am I? We have arrived to the last frontier. It is cooler than I want. More tiring than I'd like to tolerate. And yet here it is. Looming ahead of me, aroud me...there is no avoiding it. But here it is. Big and bold.
We're here, finally, in the place we'd been working towards for over a year. The whole purpose of the last week of driving madly through the night. And yes, I'm mildly excitied...only mildly, but still excitied.

Until next time..........

Frozen June

It has been a rough couple of days. Sunday we slept in the car and almost froze to death. We woke up to snow on the ground, which we were not prepared for. And come to find out, there was snow all over the place. Yellowstone was freezing cold, and sleeping in a tent was not fun. But it was beautiful. The mountains are snow covered and beautiful.
Oh! We saw moose! And more buffalo. Bighorn sheep. An eagle. And a grizzle bear!...which was kind of scary. But he was far enough away and wasn't really paying attention to us. People in a camp ground had brought their pets and he was more interested in them.. I'm not sure why anyone would bring a pet.. or small children to Yellowstone.
Today we're in Seattle and will be here till Saturday afternoon. Hopefully we'll be going to Pike's Place and the original Starbucks tomorrow. :)

Until next time.

Wide-Open Spaces

Friday morning dawned and I--whether ready or not--had to get myself ready for what same may call an adventure of a lifetime. In a way, it is. I have never been to Alaska before and may never have the opportunity to go again. At the same time, this isn't the first trek our family has made across the country. I vaguely remember our first trip, I was probably about five. We took off from Virginia and headed west/north toward my grandparents house in Washington state. I remember bits and pieces of the trip, but I think I only remember because of the pictures, because when I "remember" I mostly see a picture of myself.
Our second trip started the summer after I turned 10. We headed through the middle of the States and came back through the south. Texas, Southern California, Arizona, and New Mexico all look the same, just for the record.
Anyway, back to the present. Friday we drove almost non-stop from our house to somewhere in Wisconsin. My dad drove until he got tired and then he pulled off at one of those truck stops along the highway. It was a relatively boring yet relaxing drive. It was quiet. Megan was reading...or sleeping...most of the way, and so did I.
If you haven't been to the Mid-west before, I highly recommend it.Early in the morning we ran into the Jolly Green Giant and joined him for breakfast. But driving though Wisconsin, Minnesota, and South Dakota today was indescribable. The land goes on for seemingly forever in every direction. There are few trees and hills so you can see for miles. I would look up from reading and be captivated by the scenery outside my window. The dirt is so dark and rich against the green grasses and blue sky. There is no natural barriers against the wind and the grass ripples and moves almost as if it were water. East of the Missouri River, the land was strange and I didn't remember it at all. The flatness of the land would go uninterrupted for miles and then all of a sudden random hills would pop up out of now where. They created their own valleys and mini ranges along the road. It was beautiful and a real blessing.
The main part of the day consisted of seeing the Badlands, which is a rather adequate word to describe it actually. We were driving along with prairie on either side of us, and all of a sudden, the earth dropped and crumpled into itself. There is no way to describe it. Sandstone, I believe, heavily eroded in some spots, and not in others. Supposedly, where the Badlands rest used to be the home of a large body of water--a kind of inland sea of sorts. Some how, the water evaporated and left the strange landscape behind. It was absolutely mesmerizing.
The openness of the land here, and the long hours reading and listening to music gave me time to think and reflect. It is so big here. The bigness, if that's even a word, and the beauty of everything around me made room for ideas and dreams that I may have other wise ignored. Here, the world is slowed. The farms are large, the spaces between them are large. The lives they live may seem limited because of the lack of "civilization" anywhere near them. Sometimes, however, I wish I had lived in a world similar to this, slower and quieter. My little town in West Virginia is close enough to DC that we get the rush and the pressure of the city. I've come to love and appreciate DC for what it is and what it has to offer. But at heart, I'm a country girl with big dreams and hopes for the future. Today, in this place so open and untouched allowed me to remember that. To reconnect with a part of me that had been covered by years of rushing, attempts at measuring up. This Sabbath, though not held in a church, may have been the best I've experienced in a long time.