Tonight's Sunmelt--Darkness Approaches

I know I should be updating you with all of the adventure's we've had recently, but they're just not ready yet. I'm still drafting away, and for some reason they're just not flowing very well for me. Here's something that did, and I thought I'd share. I promise more updates soon!
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The sleeping lady emerged tonight from her thick veil of clouds just in time for sunset. Tonight was less of a sunset, and more of a sunmelt. The clouds in the heavy, overcast sky made just a little room for the sun's setting rays to leak through from behind. The landscape brightened in that steely light, and then the light began to simply melt away. The glassy smooth inlet refelected the icy still colors: sleepy grey, slow but bold blue, pristine white, solid iron--and the faintest hint of rosy gold tint to everything. A warm cold if you can imagine; the fire waiting for you back home out of the cold. Winter's approach infuses the air. I'm not saying it's cold, but there's a definite chill behind it all. Everything is ready--the fireweed, the leaves, even the mountains. The sky started to trickle rain as the sun left our corner of the earth, and the landscape greyed gently into night--an artists loosely sketching charcoal over it all.

The dark is coming--I can feel it in my bones. Part of me digs my heels in and throws a fit--wants those long lazy warm days of gentle and endless light to last on and on. But I know it's because we don't want to face the dark that causes most of our pain. The dark and cold will come whether we want it to or not. It is as much a part of this life as the sun and warmth. The other part of me is going to embrace the dark--be present in every moment. It's going to live fully right on through it. It won't let that frigid blackness stop me from going outside, from moving and living, from staying in shape, or from gleaning insight from it all. All the more to live, to find and keep my own light and warmth burning bright, right? and just when the deepest, darkest black descends, well it's then I'll know that we'll be headed back into the light.

4th of July in Seldovia (a belated report)

Pictured above: Kachemak Bay from the air, Jen and sea otter in Seldovia Bay, Halibut coming in!, Jen with Seldovia Harbor behind her, Matt (far left) rocking the survival suit relay.

. . . and so every week we would say to each other, “We should update the blog today”, and “Yes, we really should”. All the while we were thinking to ourselves the matter was concluded, the task delegated, end scene. Many apologies to our loyal followers for the month hiatus. We’ve had quite a busy month indeed, which may explain the lack of time to post updates. We’ll break up the posts to keep you all on baited breath, and so we don’t have to type so much. Also, names have been changed to protect the innocent. So, here is the first installment of what we’ve been up to…

When last we left our intrepid duo they were gearing up for a Forth of July holiday weekend in Seldovia. One of my coworkers grew up there and we were invited along with some others to delight in new experiences in a place only reachable by boat or plane. We were to meet everyone in Homer for a lovely boat ride across Katchemak Bay. The weather for the crossing was lovely, but haze likely stole some magnificent views. Captain Jane (my coworker, whose first name is not Jane or Captain) docked her father’s boat in the Seldovia Harbor 45 minutes after leaving Homer and we hoofed it the two blocks to her parents’ delightful guesthouse. We were sharing the space with another coworker and his girlfriend. The Seldovia festivities had begun earlier that day (July 3rd) and we went down to hear some local musicians and get a tour of the ‘burg. Jen and I were instantly in love with this town of about 300 people and knew we were going to have to visit many more times. Our final stop on the tour was at the Inside Beach, where several bald eagles were enjoying the surf and sun. Back at la casa Jane’s parents shared some of their astonishingly good salmon that I’m sure they caught right outside their door.

We had a blast on the Forth, even without fireworks (yes, it stays light out far too late for fireworks). We all had the pancake breakfast at the fire department, watched quintessential small town parade (complete with a float for the Town Crab (old stodgier grump of the Year winner) and oh so much more. After lunch we watched the canoe jousting tournament before cheering one of our traveling companions into the semi-finals of the log rolling competition. And the fun was just beginning. Tug of war and the egg toss were just warm-ups to the survival suit race and the fish toss (yes, this really was gross). No rest for us after dinner though, as Jane’s dad took us out in his boat out for some halibut fishing. We set the hooks and then called it a day…a really fun day.

Sunday, the last day of our stay, arrived none too welcome as Jen and I were really enjoying this trip. Back out with Jane’s dad to check the line for halibut. It looked like all we would pull up were some monstrous skate until finally Jane’s dad hauls in a beautiful 25-pound halibut (Jen was instrumental in bringing in this fish as well because of her awesome halibut dance when we set the line). What a wonderful experience, and we continue to be thankful for their hospitality and generosity. Our final activity before leaving was my favorite, a sea-kayaking trip up Seldovia Bay to take in more of the majestic country. The waters of the bay met pebble beach and then spruce forest that rolled up into the mountains. On our way back in we paddled right up to a sea otter. The trip couldn’t have ended any better. We took the plane back to Homer, so it only took 15 minutes. And just like that, our weekend in Seldovia was a memory. You better believe we’re going back soon.

Ok, ok, I know this was just a list of facts, a simple retelling of our trip. No poetry, no metaphors, no exquisite language to paint the scene. Well, you’ve simply come to the wrong blog writer for that (although I am married to one). What I can tell you is that Jen and I saw something in Seldovia that we wished we could have seen more of in all of our travels. We saw people simply enjoying life, letting outsiders view that life without feeling the need to be something different. We took joy in seeing our friend Jane so completely in her element and taking absolute and deserved pride in sharing it with us. We felt lucky to have glimpsed this corner of the world.

More adventures of Jen . . . and some noticings.

I wanted to check in again because I've gotten so much encouragement about my posts. Many of you have told me you've enjoyed and looked forward to posts here--so I don't want to let you down! I now have what every writer needs--a willing and ready audience. Thank you so much for the encouragement. It truly means a lot to me.

So I've been sick most of my first three weeks as an Alaskan, and for about my last two months as a Coloradoan as well. The flu bug bit me good, and then I traveled all over the place, moved, ended a school year, lived 3,000 miles away from my beloved husband, quit my job, left my home of 31 years for the last frontier . . . it's sure been a trip! I've learned so much each step of the way, but my body kept trying to tell me to take it easy for a bit. Well, now I certainly have the time to do just that. I keep thinking I'm getting better. Part of it is just sheer logic: no one could possibly be sick for this long. Part of it is simply being sick of being sick. And part of it is I secretly think people who are sick all the time having something more than being sick wrong with them, if you know what I mean, and now I was in desperate danger of becoming a hypocrite. So, last week I finally had a breakthrough and I was definitely feeling better. Monday brought me some energy that I hadn't had is quite awhile, along with less coughing up of my lungs. "Perfect," I was thinking. "I can see good health just around the corner!" The next day I felt even better. Fabulous in fact. I found a job I wanted to apply for that required an Alaska drivers license, and because the job posting closed the next day I decided to take advantage of my new surge in energy and motivation and go get my new license. I settled on a nice bike ride to Matt's office (only about 1.5 miles away) where he could then drive me the rest of the way to the DMV in town after work. The bike to his office is an easy coast downhill and across a bridge. I thought this was the perfect foray to start easing back into my exercise regimen. It was a lovely day, the sun sparkled, the sky was that lovely infinite shade of blue, and because I'm way up here in Alaska, it was a divine 72 degrees F. Just perfect. I began my long coast downhill on my ancient clinker one-speed (literally-it clinks every time I go over a bump, but I love the darn thing. I bought it for only $40 from this old guy when I was in college--it's a for-real classic!) and reveled in feel of the soft breeze in my hair. The hill we live on is pretty steep, so I employed way more break then pedal action on the coast down. No problem. I crossed the road an began the easy, and very flat ride across the bridge. There's this nice little fenced side-walk/ride thing for pedestrians and bikes, so despite all the semis coming up from the port I felt perfectly safe, and enjoyed the view of ship creek and the salmon fishermen & women and I rode over them. I reached the light at the end of the bridge, and peddled the last four or so blocks to Matt's work feeling just great. I was out and alive in the world, and it was so nice. Then I stopped. And couldn't breathe. But I sure could cough! So I hacked a lung for the next hour as I tried to sip little breaths in between losing what I was sure was most of my left lung. All I could think about was how truly great my lungs have been to me all my life. I've run, hiked, snowshoed, and couch-potatoed my fair share, and my lungs have never ever let me down. This down right sucked. So it was off to the doctor for me! I lucked into this fabulous doctor, who gave me this amazing steroid inhalant, and now I truly am feeling better. She made me promise not to run or bike for another 3-4 weeks (ouch!), but she also made me promise to walk everyday (no problem--Jack makes sure of that!). Even better, I'm down to coughing only a few times a day, and I can even laugh again without fear of giving up a lung. Ahhh, sweet, sweet breath. How I truly need and love thee.

On my recent walks around our neighborhood I've met the cutest little kiddos. There are three, a beautiful girl of about seven with ebony hair down to her waist, a chubby, shy little boy of about five who always seems on the go, and a tiny girl of about three who is just learning to talk, so her speech comes out in starts and halts. Every time Jack and I walk by they ask, "Can I pet your dog?" in their sweet little voices, and who could say no? Plus, Jack (did I mention he's the best dog ever) just loves kids and is so quiet and patient with them, gently wagging his tail while they pat his head and ask his name, that I have to say yes for his sake too. Today the all dandelions in Alaska must have been in cahoots, because they've all released their seeds at the same time. In places their feathery poofs of seeds were so numerous it almost looked like a light snow (just a prelude of what I'm in for, I'm sure). On Matt and my evening round we ran into the older girl and the boy, who were riding their toy cars down the hill by their house. The girl saw us coming and ran to us with the hems of her long jeans flapping under her bare feet with her usual question, "can I pet your dog?" But tonight her hair was sprinkled with dandelion seeds and the long strands seems to be reaching for the wind, and although the sun still shone is was far down in the sky and her bronze skin just glowed in that light. Her jade eyes sparkled with her question, and of course, I said, "yes." She and her brother patted Jack's head, and then flew down the hill on their cars. The boy rode hunched over the top of a tiny pink car that was clearly too small for him, his floppy spider man sneakers grazing the asphalt and acting as brakes. His laughter bubbled and skitted out of him to dance with the breezy leaves. It's amazing how such simple things become luminescent.

Today I had my very first visitor to Alaska! My told friend Dave from high school is visiting his father who just happens to live in Anchorage. Dave and I lost touch shortly after high school, and we've only recently re-connected, so I had the pleasure of being able to meet his wife, Carol, and their daughter, Maya for the first time. It's weird knowing someone in that awkward difficult time, before you really know who you are or want to be, and then seeing them all grown up and being and doing in this world. Definitely gives you pause for thought. Dave's daughter is the most beautiful two-year old--she's quiet, but you can tell has a very busy mind. She's got these expressive, dark eyes, and the daintiest lips that are quick to smile. She's an animal lover, patting and hugging Jack and the kitties every chance she got. She wore this little white jacket with kitty ears on the hood, and insisted on wearing the hood up. Adorable. We went to the park across the street--which I've visited at least once and most days more like two or three times each and every day I've been here--and Maya showed me a whole new park. She explored the towering bushes, and I actually looked over them to see a barge ship so big there were actual bridges (yes, plural) with semis (again, plural) driving right up into it. She bent down to examine the beauty of a bright yellow dandelion, blazed her own path that crunched in the mulch and stomped over a cement platform, and she delighted in the sheer and simple pleasure of a slide, wanting again and again to experience the exhilaration of flying down. But more than anything I saw Dave and Carol just riveted on this lovely little girl. Every expression of hers was registered, every mood and discovery catalogued. The slide in my park was the biggest Maya had ever been on, and today she went from sliding down with help, to doing it all by herself. What a treat to have been there.

Matt and I have been invited down to Soldovia for the 4th by his co-worker --so I'm looking forward to having some sights from outside Anchorage to report my next time around. How many times can I tell you about my walks around my neighborhood before it gets old! Again, thanks for reading and for all your support.

and the ground shook. . .

Matt and I just experienced our very first earthquake! Whoa! It, apparently, was a 5.4. All pets and belongings are perfectly fine. The house (and Matt's workplace) just shook a bit. Nothing really earthshaking . . . oh, I guess it was!

Here's the news article: http://www.adn.com/news/environment/earthquakes/story/839501.html

It felt . . . wobbly. Nothing rattled or anything, just sorta trembled and didn't feel right.

Platinum

Here are some pictures from my trip to Platinum. I'm going back there this week and I hope the weather is just as nice. There's a bear in one of these pictures...can anyone spot it? First person to post a comment on where the bear is gets a free bear bell and sleep mask when they visit. The pictures shown here are: aerial of marshlands north of Goodnews Bay, aerial of boat on Goodnews Bay east towards the mountains, aerial of City of Platinum (pop. of ~60) with Goodnews Bay behind taken from over the Bering Sea, and on the beach at midnight looking at the Bering Sea.

Little Bits

Matt and I are both a little under the weather, so we've not really been up to too much, but here's a sampling of what we've been up to (ok--honestly, it's all we've been up to!!).

Yesterday we drove up the valley to Wasilla--hometown of our awesome Governor. The objective?? We're attempting to get our guest bed together for all of the visits we're expecting from y'all, and had found a bed frame on craigslit! The drive took about 1 hour, and it was sensationally beautiful. The landscape is a pure, vibrant green that just goes on and on and only stops at the sheer mountains. There are these gorgeous birch trees everywhere--it's the predominant tree around here--and wildflowers dot the undergrowth with vivid color. We drove over a tidal river that was just huge--much more of a river than what we have in Colorado. The water is a blue-green in the rivers, but in the tidal flats it's mostly grey--the color of the mud. It was a nice little opportunity to see a little bit more of the landscape around here.

Last weekend we took a walk along Ship Creek Trail--my neighbor Luis calls it the "12 million dollar trail" because that's how much the city spent to build it. It has this neat corkscrew bridge up and over the railroad, and starts basically at the bottom of the hill we live on. The trail was a strange mix of lush and lovely landscape and creek on one side, and train yards and commercial trucking, equipment, and junkyards on the other. The more I'm here the more I understand that, especially in Anchorage, that kind of contradiction embodies this place. The lovely hill we live on is bordered at it's base by the port operations of the city--so you look out over these huge gas/oil tanks and cranes and railroad cars to a lovely view of the cook inlet and the mountains beyond. The unbelievably clear blue-green waters of Ship Creek stood out the most to me, though. You can tell just by looking at them that they originated from a glacier.

Today we went to an art festival in the Alaska Botanical gardens here in Anchorage to hear Matt's supervisor, Debra, play cello in a string band she's in. The had all these local artist booths strung along the trails of the garden. Very neat, plus we got to figure out a few of the names of the flowers we've been seeing. At first I balked at the $5 entry fee, but later realized it was really a pretty good deal for music, art, and nature all mixed up in one. A few weeks ago we shelled out $15 each to see a Scottish pipe and drum recital in a local church--and this was equally enjoyable.

Spring (I think) in Alaska

So now that I've been here a whopping two weeks, I think I'm sort-of getting the feel for the weather this time of year. I'd looked at climate graphs for the Anchorage area, and it looked like the highs would be around 80 degrees F in the summer. Well, I'm not so sure it's actually ever going to get that hot. The weather reporters get super excited when they can report highs in the upper 60's, and since I've been here the hottest it's been is 75--and that's in the middle of a parking lot on the clearest sunny day. I don't think I'm going to ever need shorts up here. There is quite a bit of rain and clouds in this area, and it's usually hazy. We are in easy sighting distance of Denali--but I've only been able to actually see it one of the days I've been here because the haze affects visibility so much. There is a whole range of mountains across the inlet that I didn't even know existed until we had a lovely clear day last week, and they just emerged as if from a mist. 31 years of arid, clear, thin Colorado air, and I think that's what the whole world lives in. That'll show me.

Today on Jack and my walk around our neighborhood I noticed the lilacs are finally budding. I think they'll probably be beginning to bloom by the end of the week. I've decided that the Anchorage's "summer" is really a spring. I'll let you know if later I decide to change that designation, but for now I think it fits. We have a whole two more months of this lovely weather!

Sunday Matt, Jack, and I went to Kinkaid park. It's a huge park right on the coast; they have miles and miles of trails, and it actually serves as the Olympic training center for cross country skiing in the winter. They also have a disc golf course! Matt and I spent the afternoon experiencing our first Alaskan course. Wow. There are these sheer drop offs just filled with trees and underbrush. There must be whole villages of lost discs just waiting for winter when they can again show their garish colors. One of the players in the group ahead of us actually carried a machete (I suppose to whack at undergrowth to find lost disks). We played it safe and managed to hold on to all our discs, but what a neat course. The park is lush to bursting right now, with an abundance of bright fuchsia wild roses and mountain bluebells. Lovely. We also hiked down to the beach. The tide was out, so there was at least a mile of mud flats instead of ocean. I'm looking forward to going back when the tide is in to see exactly how cold that water is.

Matt's also been assigned some more villages at work! Last week he traveled to Emmonak again because their annual flood was worse than usual. FEMA was there, and Matt went out to help document and report on the flood damage to their sanitary systems. This week he will be going to a new village: Platinum. It's on Goodnews bay. He's also been assigned a village called Gambell--it's WAY out on an island on the bering sea, within sight of Russia. It's so far West it might be East! Here's a map so you get a feel for the distances Matt will be traveling (if you click on the blue markers it'll tell you what it's supposed to be pointing out):


View Platinum in a larger map

Adventures of Jen

Today has been overcast and about 60 degrees F. It kept wanting to rain, but not quite having the guts. This morning I set off for my run with Jack, expecting greatness due to the sea level altitude (not attitude) I've recently found myself in. I jogged at my gentle pace and made it all the way to the park across the street before I had to stop to catch my breath. Progress, yes, but not necessarily greatness. After starting off again I was able to make it about 4 more blocks before my heavily congested lungs decided they needed another break. I kept up this break-neck pace for about 15 more minutes before returning to the house, actually proud of myself for "exercising." That's when the fun began.

The sky was spitting just a little, and the mosquitoes were hovering voraciously, and I was thinking, "thank goodness I'm home!" I turned the knob of my front door to discover . . . it was locked! Fine if I'd brought the key, but I hadn't. So I paced a little, and tried to climb up to my front porch where, of course, I had actually left the door unlocked. No dice. I used to climb when I was younger, but those days are long over. In my classroom, whenever I can't reach something, I call for my monstrously tall student, Trent, who gladly helps us short people of the world (especially if he gets to make fun of us), but there was no way he could answer my call today! At this point I realize, of course, that my phone is nice and warm inside, so I can't call Matt. My landlady Joy, who only lives down the block, is on a road trip with her daughter for the next few weeks. She can't save me either. I pace some more, and decide I'm going to have to walk to Matt's work. It's only about 2 miles away, but he's the only person I know here who can help me! He's basically the only person I know here at all.

Just at that moment a truck pulls into our driveway. I'm thinking, "no way! A savior!" It turns out to be my land lady's daughter in-law, Kelly. She calls Joy and goes to get the spare key. While I'm waiting for her my neighbor comes over to mow our lawn. I'm a little surprised to see him, but I figure at least I don't have to mow it! I also hope he hasn't seen me lamely trying to climb the balcony and failing. He stops mowing to introduce himself, despite the swarm of mosquitoes around his head. His name is Luis, and he has a son who lives in Colorado Springs. He offers a ladder or a phone if I need one.

Kelly returns, and of course the key doesn't work. She then goes up into the unit next door and climbs over the connected balcony to our unit and tries a key on the back door. No luck. She comes back down and offers to go look again for the right spare key, but I tell here Luis has offered me a ladder so I can climb up to my balcony and get in. She replies, "Oh! I have a ladder!" And proceeds to extract the longest (thank goodness) ladder I've seen in a long long while. I help her maneuver it, and it's almost as easy as trying to walk a cat. Kelly, Luis, and I get the ladder up against my porch and I climb up. As I walk across the porch I hold my breath just hoping the door won't be locked up here too. I turn the handle, and hooray! I have access to my warm, lovely home.

I come back down through the front door to help Kelly maneuver the ladder back into place, and thank her profusely. She mentions that if I need anything else while Joy's away she's lives just down the street.

So I made an idiot of myself, and met two helpful friends while doing it. Aren't I lucky?

It's now drizzling slowly here and reminding me very much of Oregon: so green and wet. I know most days will be overcast like this here, but I'm hoping the sun comes out tomorrow anyway.

Arrival

I had a lovely window seat on the flight up here. And though you may think that's inconsequential for a 1 am landing, it was breathtaking. The sun was going down--the horizon bright rosy pink--and in the dusk I could see the lovely mountains, snow, and ocean that are Alaska. Welcome to your new home!

At home Matt introduced me to this awesome sleeping mask, that I just felt I had to share with you all. Matt said, "you're weird" when I showed him the picture, but we all know that already, right? This is going to be my good pal for the next three months. It's definitely a different experience knowing I don't have to worry about the daylight for the time being. We could eat dinner at 9:00 pm outside and still have plenty of light. Today at 7 am it was about 60 degrees, but by 1 pm it was a beautiful 70. I sat on the porch and read with the animal menagerie in the gorgeous sun, and actually got so hot I had to go inside. The sky is lovely blue, the trees are lush and green, and as an extra treat the tree across the street is even in bloom.

I have to keep reminding myself I am at sea level--those majestic mountains that surround me make it easy for me to think I'm in familiar Colorado mile-high territory. Every time I boil water I remember though--and I keep trying to figure out if it will take more or less time to boil me egg (sorry Mrs. Jackson--I know you taught me this, but my reason and knowledge escapes me!). I'm going to go running with Jack tomorrow and then let myself think I'm the bomb because I can run so far all of the sudden.

More than anything I am glad to be back with Matt--which is more than ever clearly right where I should be. We function so much better as a unit that apart. It's so nice to be able to share the same space with him again, and have his presence as book ends to my days. And that, truly, is home.

It's Jen's Turn Now!

So I finally get to take the leap. I leave Colorado in four more days to join Matt--and I can't wait! The trucking company came to pick up our car today, and it finally felt real. I'm moving to Alaska! I'm excited to see the northern lights, I want to see the belugas in Cook Inlet, I can't wait to experience my first midnight sun, and I want to hike, run, snowshoe, and ski my uhhhhhhh . . . . . thighs off. I'm really looking to experiencing this unique place with Matt.

Matt says the sun is now setting at about 11 pm and rising just before 5 am. I (and the two cats) will arrive (if all goes as planned) at 1 am in Anchorage on Memorial Day. That means the sun will rise only 4 hours after I arrive! He also says the sun has been shining every day, but that the air is still crisp. No sweltering Colorado summer for us! I'm looking forward to standing on our porch with him, and . . . I was going to say watch a sunset, but it's more likely we'll see our neighbor pee in his yard because the sun is setting so late.

It's definitely been a move with many stages, after it's all said and done it will have taken about seven weeks total to get everything and everybody up there. It'll be nice to finally be an official resident of Alaska! Now if I could just get that job . . .

Matt's Emmonak Trip

I had a good experience for my first taste of bush travel. Emmonak is a Yup'ik Eskimo village in Western Alaska. I won't bore you all with facts and details about the village and the Yup'ik Culture because you can read all about it in the links below. I was able to meet several community members and talk to them about their existing water and sewer systems and as well as some of their plans for the future. I am excited to be able to use my engineering background for what I hope is a higher purpose, and I can't wait to learn some new things along the way. What a treat it was to be in the community when they had a potlach followed by hours of traditional dancing. I was also there to see some preparations for the annual flood that is expected this week.

http://www.commerce.state.ak.us/dca/commdb/CIS.cfm?Comm_Boro_Name=Emmonak

http://www.alaskanative.net/en/main_nav/education/culture_alaska/yupik/

Matt's First Bush Travel

Matt has received his first bush travel assignment!

For those of you who don't know, the main reason we're moving way up there is because Matt got offered this awesome job with the state of Alaska. He will be working for their Village Safe Water program where her will be helping to facilitate (get grants, oversee projects) sanitary systems for the rural and native villages in Alaska (man, I hope I got that right!). He gets assigned specific villages to work with, and has to travel about 1-2 times a month coordinating various aspects of the projects.

His first village: Emmonak. He leaves Monday and gets back on Wednesday. I can't wait to report how it goes!

Here is a link to a zoomed-in view of Emmonak:
http://www.mapquest.com/maps?city=Emmonak&state=AK
It looks like it's right at the fork of two rivers.

Below is a map so you can see where it is. The red "A" = Emmonak.


View Larger Map

Matt's Move to Alaska

Matt has arrived in Anchorage!

With a cat, a Golden Retriever, and four large pieces of luggage to check, Matt patiently waited his turn in the Alaska Airlines baggage check line (boy did he ever have luggage to check!). The first class customer service rep, having no customers in line, motions for Matt to come over to him. As Matt moved forward the rep. realized he was towing a very large luggage cart behind him. "What, are you moving to Alaska?" he asked snidely. "Yes." was Matt's reply. And thus the adventure began!

The trip up went as good as could be expected given the all the varied pieces of luggage he was toting (Matt claims there was only minimally persistent meowing during the flight--but you should have heard the kid screaming on board!! Matt called just before takeoff from Seattle and I could barely hear him!!). But Jack, Hugo, and Matt all arrived happy and healthy around 11 pm on Wednesday April 29. The next day Matt signed the lease our our little place and moved his necessities and the animals in. He reports lots and lots of dust, which apparently is normal up there (I can't wait).

He's living a minimalists life for the next three weeks--only an air mattress and Crazy Creek chair for furniture (thankfully Joy, our landlord, lent him a table), and two pans to his name. He thought he would be able to keep in touch with sports via the XM radio he brought, only to find out XM only works in the lower 48. I'll bet he's really glad I made him pack the 2,000+ page Les Miserables! Tonight he reported his activities so far have consisted of: reading, reading, sleeping, sitting on the porch and brushing the pets, reading, walking jack, reading and eating. He's already finished a book! He says the sun is going down at about 10:30, but it stays light for a long time after the sun goes down. That is going to take some adjusting to!

The pictures are of the sunset over Cook Inlet from our deck, and then him and the boys (Hugo and Jack) in front of said sunset!!

This completes phase 1 of the move, phase 2 (the stuff) began last Monday and is scheduled to arrive in about three weeks. Phase 2, Jen's move, is hopefully going to happen Memorial Day.

We'll report more when there is more to report!

Home sweet home!

We've just returned from a whirlwind tour of Anchorage this weekend. The goal? Find a place to live!! Despite some interesting setbacks and unexpected curve balls, we found a place of our very own. It's super cute, a little smaller than the home we own now, and about 1.5 times as much (ouch!!).

It's located up on Government Hill--a quiet (except for the flyovers) residential neighborhood surrounding the air force base. It's, as its name implies, up on a hill. The day we saw it it was filled with light. We met the pleasant landlady, Joy, there and convinced her she wanted us as tenants despite the fact we have four pets. In the end, her husband relented she told me, because we were from Colorado. Joy and her husband are from Colorado originally themselves! She asked how long we thought we'd be staying in Alaska, and when I replied, "3-5 years" she laughed and said, "that's what we thought 35 years ago!!" Anyway--we are pleased as peas in a pod with the place. It's all updated, nice wood floors, and has two, yes two decks! It also has a garage which will be a nice place to not only store our toys, but also probably VERY much appreciated on the many snowy days to come up there. I'm posting some pictures so you can get a feel for the place!!

IMPORTANT: we got a two bedroom place because we want you, yes you, to come visit!! There will definitely be a guest bed, so book your reservations at Casa Walker soon!

We're off to the great white North!!

Matt and I are relocating to Anchorage, AK! We're are excited for the adventure and abundant opportunities to connect with nature. We are also a little nervous about the enormity of the move and the distance between and our dear friends and families. We (ok--probably mostly Jen) are going to keep track of some of our adventures here as a way to keep in touch with all those we care about.