June 2016
Shortly after this photo was taken I escaped Summit Lake Lodge. A ride had been lined up, my future employer was gonna pick me up at six o'clock on the dot. I’d been recruited to work for Alaska Wildland Adventures (AWA) after a successful second hitchhiking experience ended with a job offer. All I had to do was pack all of my shit during a lunch break, place 40 bucks on my roomies pillow (she’d agreed to keep my secret and work for me the following morning), run past the owners house unnoticed, and pray to God that the driver was punctual.
I’d been trying to find every opportunity to escape Moose Pass. Months prior, I had agreed to spend my summer working in the middle of nowhere with 20 strangers. What I expected to find was another opportunity to meet unconventional Americans, seasonal workers, traveler types. What the universe had in store was a “coffee shop”, aka ice cream parlor, off the side of a highway, home to a restroom where sheeple would pop in and out. My days entailed being micromanaged by an 18 year old on how to pull proper shots from Folgers coffee grounds. Having slung coffee for nearly 10 years at that point I couldn’t help but question my life choices leading up to this, “Life plays out and I wonder what I’m doing in a room like this," I kept thinking.
Alaska was going to be a one time thing. I had to ride it out, salvage what was left of it. Find greener pastures before the season was over. In part deux, the universe conspired with me. I met Joey and Grace who offered me that fateful ride and job connection. I found what I was looking for. I was given the opportunity to work for a company that provided eco-conscious adventure tourism and believed in passing those perks along to the employees. I was able to tag along on various tours and test out all three lodges, a luxury I wouldn’t have afforded otherwise. Guests paid thousands of dollars for a similar experience. For me, my life was their vacation.
My experience in Alaska was marked by extreme highs and lows. I realized that happiness was not to be achieved but maintained. I was ghost-like those days, popping in and out of other peoples lives, never lingering long enough to create or maintain relationships of my own. I was checking in less and less. How could I complain about this life of adventure? How could I reach out? Talk about stories people couldn’t relate to, starring people they would never meet. My life became private by default.
Some memories:
Hiking under a midnight sun
Parties at the dump
Watching salmon swim upstream for future generations
Avoiding bears and Marsha the moose
“Camping” and “staycations” in Seward
Hitchhiking
Surviving a class 5 river raft
Cabin hopping at Glacier Lodge
Packing mace and singing songs to alert Mr. Bear(s)
Waking up to squirrels
Sauna sweats and Kenai River dunks
Witnessing the “Mount Marathon Race”
Fishing (harvesting) Sockeye Salmon
Staring at nature (constantly)
