my roads in alaska

not thinking about alaska has been my favorite pastime since leaving. But, since it's the one-year anniversary of my leaving that state and the rain here just won't stop, I've been thinking about it a lot lately.

I drove the three hours from Homer to Anchorage the day before my flight out, in Mitch's unregistered and bare-tired work truck. There is so much to say about that trip, and I'll get to it eventually when I can tell it honestly. But for now, I remember that truck and the route that we drove so many times over my stay there.

When I got off of the plane from Hawai'i, I was certain Mitch wasn't there. I don't really know why, maybe because I texted him when I landed and he didn't respond. Maybe it was just nerves after taking such a huge risk without being certain of the outcome. Either way, I waited until every passenger had left the plane before I grabbed my carry-ons from the overhead compartments and shuffled up the aisle and out of the gangway. I waited until I was second in the long Starbucks line before turning and going to the bathroom to check my makeup and brush my teeth before getting back in line. I made it to the front and turned away again. I sat down. I paced. Finally, I got on the escalator and went to baggage claim. I didn't see him, and self-consciously walked to the carousel. He came from behind me, put his hands over my eyes, and said "surprise" nervously. We filled the awkwardness with menial chit chat.

His truck has a button/pin over the driver's side visor that says "I ♥ mountains" and a 75-pound brindle pit bull named Tank in the back seat. It was a pre-dawn flight, and on the route home the sunrise was so intense it turned everything pink and orange--from the still-snowy mountains and the glassy ocean inlet at their base to the grass on the side of the road. Tank decided he was a lap dog and crawled onto my legs, settling in and resting his head on the window sill.

We took a detour to find his favorite waterfall, driving around and around because he couldn't find the right road. It was well worth the wait. We tromped through the snow and branches to see the water rushing beneath us. He raced across a fallen log above the water to reach the other side, and I reluctantly followed, constantly nervous my feet would slip off of the slick bark. Tank ran, snout-deep in snow, back and forth between us. Our shoes were soaked by the time we returned to the truck, breathless and red-cheeked.

 Waterfall. Much, much prettier in person.

He couldn't wait to see my face, he said, when we crested the hill to Homer. You can see forever, he said. By then, the fog had rolled in and I couldn't see much but I smiled big and pretended. Three bald eagles were in the air above us--but, as I would come to find is common up there, they were haggard and losing feathers and slightly sad to me. We drove up a pocked dirt road to a yurt, abandoned pieces of wood and garbage scattered across the yard. I didn't care, I wouldn't have even noticed if he hadn't pointed it out later. The inside of the yurt was still slightly warm from the fire dying in the wood-burning stove in the center of the house. We talked, got dinner, and watched V for Vendetta. I was filled-to-the-brim-and-overflowing happy. I felt like I'd found my home with him.

 The view from the Yurt

Weeks later, we drove that route to pick up a part for the boat's engine. We stayed the night with his friends in the most awesome bus I've ever been in. We're talking velvet, fireplace, book shelves, stove... beautiful. The drive home took an extra 30 minutes because of all the moose on the road. 

The voyage from Homer to Prince William Sound, I was supposed to drive the route again, to get supplies to Whittier for the boat when it arrived. The captain thought I was disappointed but secretly I was excited--it had been too much time with Mitch already, and I was looking forward to some alone time. But, as a service to me, it was arranged that I could be a part of the crew while we left. I sat on the deck and watched the Homer dock recede, and wished I was in a truck on that familiar route.

 We had our favorite gas station stops, we got pulled over twice (while he was driving), we argued, we sang, we slept, and I grew to love that route. It's funny how roads can hold so many memories, and can play pivotal parts in our lives.

Anticlimactic as that is, now I have to go bed. So, that's the Alaska road on my mind.