On Christmas Eve 2003, I arrived here with my then 2 year old daughter and my 5 year old son. I had the help of my parents and one of my aunts was our landing spot upon arrival. I was in a rear wheel drive Cutlass Supreme. It’s large trunk and all floor boards were filled with my most precious worldly possessions and the minimum requirements of setting up a bare house hold. The drive was days and days of slippery, sliding, white knuckle driving. But I knew the moment I crossed the state line that I had found my home. I took this picture right near the boarder. It is the Wrangell-St. Elias National Park. “At 13.2 million acres which is bigger than the country of Switzerland, Wrangell-St. Elias stretches from one of the tallest peaks in North America, Mount St. Elias (18,008) to the ocean. ”
I have hung this photo in every place I have lived in for the last 10 years. It will always remind me of the first time I FELT Alaska. It was powerful. I stopped in the middle of the road to take this picture. There were no cars coming, no rush, no kids fussing in the back seat. It filled me with both peace and longing.
This was also taken on our way up, Haines Junction I believe. I loved the look of the sky; mysterious, mystical, meaningful. It was just the barest of hints of the mystery and magic yet to come. The magic of the promise that IS Alaska.
People tell me I am so lucky to live in Alaska. I say to them that luck has very little to do with it. Priorities, a tight budget, and working my ass off has got me here to where I want to be. Of course, a little luck, or as I call it, My Alaska Karma, has helped here and there.