Alaska Reflections (by Anna)

Road trip to Alaska. Crossed off the bucket list. Now that I’m settled into a more normal routine in Ohio, staying put in one place for more than a few weeks, I have time to reflect on the places we’ve been. We’ve covered many miles, seen places of monumental beauty, visited dear friends, made new ones, and crammed more new sights, sounds, tastes, textures, and smells into my memory bank than I possibly could have room to digest. Here are some that rise to the top.

Sights:
• the endless plains of northern Minnesota, the Dakotas, Montana, and eastern Washington
• Aunt Rachel’s homey bungalow in NE Portland
• a cloudless day in Vancouver, biking around Stanley Park and crossing the Burrard St. Bridge with a view of the English Bay
• the mountain lake north of Whistler
• the clear waters of Kluane Lake (Lake of Many Fish) framed by the mountains and glaciers of Kluane national park in the Yukon Territory
• the view from Cindy’s window of Grewingk Glacier
• mountain sheep and caribou nibbling at the salt beside the road
• salmon jumping up a mountain stream

Sounds:
• the gurgling of a creek
• the honking snort of great blue herons
• the crack and crunch of sunflower seeds between my dad and brother’s teeth
• Dad snoring
• laughter
• conversations and stories with the Dunns, the Knutsons, Aunt Rosie, Aunt Rachel, and Cindy
• the wind whirring by the driver’s side door
• people honking as they drive past and read our Alaska blog sign

Tastes:
• authentic Chinese meal in Vancouver
• poached egg and smoked salmon on toast, made by a creek in the Yukon Territory
• fresh grilled salmon with Dave’s secret sauce, potatoes from the garden, and rolls with salmonberry jelly at Cindy’s house in Homer, AK
• homemade vegetable soup and chocolate chip muffins in Anchorage, AK
• homemade ribs, rolls, and salad in EGF

Textures:
• the slippery slime of fish scales of a rainbow trout
• the cold pitter patter of rain and the splash of ocean water in Homer
• the soothing smoothness of water-softened pebbles on Diamond Ridge beach
• the soft sinking of sand beneath my feet

Smells:
• the dank, musty, worn-sock odor of the camper after a few days on the road
• the crisp cleanness of my mother-in-law’s well-kept house
• coffee brewing in the morning
• the smell of home in my aunt Rachel’s bungalow
• pine trees
• fish and ocean water

Now that I’m home, and grateful to be so, I am mindful that the beauties of a small farm in Wayne County, Ohio, are as abundant, if not as grandiose, as those of the Alaskan wilderness. I’m working on a different kind of seeing, now. Instead of taking in as much as I can and skimming the surface of things, I’m looking more carefully at the intricacies of the land that I love, and trying to live the words of Marcel Proust: “The voyage of discovery is not in seeking new landscapes but in having new eyes.”