I have a vivid memory from the autumn of 1998. At the far end of the Denali National Park Road the tundra is speckled with hardy spruces. Hills usher the way to the looming giant on the horizon, Denali. From my seat on the wooden step of a weather port, the mountain was bathed in morning light. Overhead the sky was decorated with spirals of thousands of migrating Sandhill Cranes, their trilling calls echoing out over the glacier scoured valley. The frost evaporating from the blueberry, lingonberry, crowberry and Labrador tea created a heady vegetative fragrance that I will forever associate with Alaska. Sipping the sharp cinnamon tea in my cup, I knew in my heart that this was the place I was meant to be. And for 21 years it was. Until it wasn’t.
This is so evocative. I love how disappointment and doubt are juxtaposed with such magic, mystery and beauty. Also powerful the way your cabin waits for your return, or not. What does it mean to inhabit a place without a sense of belonging?
That Time I Accidentally Moved Away From Alaska
This is so evocative. I love how disappointment and doubt are juxtaposed with such magic, mystery and beauty. Also powerful the way your cabin waits for your return, or not. What does it mean to inhabit a place without a sense of belonging?