When we were almost exactly at the midway point of our three week trip to Alaska, we had a travel day from near Talkeetna to Kenai. It didn’t feel as if we were at the halfway point, but there we were. We stopped in Wasilla. While most people might recognize the name because of former VP candidate Sarah Palin, I first knew it because it is the location of the Iditarod headquarters. And my dad and I liked watching the Iditarod. A stop at the headquarters would seem a bit cheesy to some people, but not to me. I watched the dogs get excited to see people, because they knew they’d get to pull something. It’s what they love—to run and pull. I went for a short, fast ride and gave them some pets as they wagged their tails and hopped up and down, ready to go again. I explored the small museum, capturing the history of the race and those who had dedicated so much of their lives to it—human and animal. Every step of the way, the memories of watching the races for years with my dad, or keeping each other updated by texts and phone calls as the race was happening, were on my mind. I didn’t have personal experiences of the Iditarod but I certainly had memories associated with it.
We drove toward Anchorage and as we drove along JBER (Joint Base Elmendorf-Richardson), on its outskirts, the driver explained the special design of the gate system, allowing wildlife access in and out. About that time, a moose gave us a live demonstration of how it works. I enjoyed an hour or so exploring Anchorage, then we continued to drive. The route around the Turnagain Arm isn’t a short one, but it’s beautiful. The mountains lowered as we drove but the water increased. And we were about to spend the evening on it.
We had reservations for a float trip down the Kenai River, but my brother-in-law decided not to go. My sister and I invited a fellow traveller, Terri, who had become a friend. She was thrilled. She asked her husband, Chris, if he wanted to join us, and there was room for him as well, so the four of us dropped off our bags in our rooms and packed into a van for a quick trick down the road. It had been raining, so we weren’t positive we’d be able to raft, but we were going to try.
While it had gotten progressively warmer as we travelled south, we knew the water was going to be cold no matter where we were in Alaska. Terri and Chris were from Australia, and while Terri was still adjusting to the colder temps, Chris apparently didn’t need to adjust. He was wearing shorts and flip flops everywhere he went. However, the damp rain and being on the river had him at least a small bit concerned. He decided to wear actual shoes that actually tie and cover his toes. He asked Terri to grab him a pair of socks. It wasn’t until we got to the excursion site and he unrolled the socks that he realized she accidentally grabbed her toeless socks.
His face was priceless.
He finally wanted to wear socks, and this is what he got. We at least found out the raft company provided boots for us. They also provided rain gear. We were quite the sight waddling down the trail and into the water. Then to maneuver into the raft. We were quite relieved to discover we’d all be in the same raft and our guide would paddle for us. To be fair, the river was calm. I think we all would have been fine. However, if our ability to regain composure following our laughing fit over the sock fiasco was any indication of how we’d handle an emergency, it was probably best we be riders instead of navigators.
The experience was so peaceful. The water was beautiful. The colors were gorgeous. We learned about the wildlife and human life along the river and throughout the area. We were simply traversing a small avenue of the area. It felt like a backroad of sorts, but I was learning that in Alaska, the waterways weren’t backroads. The hiking trails weren’t getaways. Every route was a way, an option, an opportunity, an invitation. As we floated, I watched the light and shadows change. I watched the birds fly in and out. I listened to the ebb and flow of the water against the shoreline. I anticipated the views beyond each turn. I tried to orient myself based on specific mountains. Before I knew it, we were pulling over to the side of the river. Two hours had passed. I was relaxed, ready for a late supper then bed.
It had been a full, great day, mixed with many things I love about travel. (1) Experiences connected to memories. (2) Learning completely new things in new places. (3) Making memories while connecting with new people. (4) Relaxing along the journey. Those types of days can’t be repeated. The general components can but the individual details can’t. And it’s not because they’re perfect. I can list several things that were annoying or uncomfortable that day, but why? Those are the memories that stand out. The ones I’ve shared are what’s seared into my mind. And for that, I am grateful. I am grateful for the attention to detail. Without it, I’d miss so much.
Podcast: Play in new window | Download