Getting There is Is Half the Battle

I left home under dark, gloomy skies, but at least it wasn’t raining. I planned on driving through Anchorage mid-day for the lightest traffic, which worked out well.

My mood was bubbly, my anticipation high. I was finally, once again, out on a road trip!

🎶🎵 On the road again … 🎵🎶 Just can’t wait to get on the road again! 🎶🎵🎶

It’s a good thing I had at least the early stages of my trip planned out, because my navigator, Rhonda, had curled up and gone to sleep before I’d driven a mile – and didn’t stir again until we were the far side of Anchorage over an hour later!

“Are we there yet?“ She sure loves her cushy, raised travel bed. 💗

The real adventure for this trip began as we made the first big turn to start the long drive down Turnagain Arm – and were buffeted by the first of many strong gusts of wind.

I’ll note here that winds along Turnagain Arm are a pretty common occurrence and I’ve driven my rig along this route enough times to be familiar with the way it handles in windy conditions.

This day, however, the winds were the strongest I’ve yet experienced, and periodic sideways super-gusts had me giving the steering wheel my full attention, if not quite to the point of white-knuckling it.

That it would be windy came as no surprise. I’d been checking the weather reports daily for the past week and had come to the conclusion that waiting for a sunny day was beyond my current patience level.

The only way I was going to get to the sunshine I was craving was to pass through the ominous weather around the inlet. So be it.

White-caps chopped the water of the inlet to my right, with low clouds swirling mistily over and around the mountains to my left and across the way.

From my viewpoints along the highway, I could clearly see the collection of ominous dark clouds and sheets of rain obscuring the far end of the inlet. Oh boy, that looks like fun … not. Girdwood and Portage were obviously getting dumped on and I was heading right for it.

I had been expecting some rain, but I admit, I hadn’t really counted on such a serious, wind-driven gully-washer.

At least I needn’t worry about slowing anyone down. With rain-water literally running across and down the highway, visibility diminished by heavy rain and constant spray from oncoming traffic (non-stop and nearly bumper to bumper as weekend warriors headed back towards Anchorage and beyond), no one was speeding.

I simply turned the volume up on my Bob Seger CD, sang along to “Runnin’ Against the Wind” and settled in to slogging through. Sunshine would be my eventual reward!

The pounding rain did not let up until well past the Hope cut-off. Ronni slept through most of it, including my off-key singing. But as I finally made the turn onto the Sterling Hwy, this glorious view opened up in front of me – and it was all worth it.

Rhonda and I continued on, now under mostly sunny skies, my mood vastly boosted. I finally stopped, tired of driving and hungry, at one of my favorite roadside pull-outs along the glistening Kenai River.

After taking Ronni for a long sniffy walk and enjoying watching a boat-full of enthusiastic fishermen drift by, I managed a well-deserved roast beef sandwich before taking an hour’s nap.

Revived and rested, I turned my now eager mind towards choosing my first night’s destination.

I hadn’t really had a specific location in mind when I left home. I was simply on a quest to find sunshine and to wake up with a new view outside my window.

So, since Ronni and I have a Barn Hunt trial to attend in Soldotna next Friday, heading for the Kenai Peninsula seemed the logical start.

But where to go? It’s a long road, with lots of options. Are you wondering where we landed?

Bloom Where You Are Planted

Or not …

I thought my unplanned mid-summer break would have me absolutely chomping at the bit to get back on the road.

I mean, we were supposed to be camping in Valdez last week, arriving home just in time to avoid the 4th of July traffic. I had it all planned out.

Instead, I’ve found myself strangely content to stick close to home for the last couple of weeks, staying off my [much improved, pain-wise at least] knee and resting.

I’ll feel more confident in heading back out once I’ve had my upcoming consult with the orthopedic doctor. Knowing what is wrong is half the battle, eh?

This inactivity and introspection, of course, left little of interest to motivate my writing juices. Sigh.

Oh, wait! It IS summer in Alaska, isn’t it. I guess we could talk about that.

With the long hours of daylight, combining plenty of sunshine and rain, it sometimes seems there are almost more wildflowers wanting to bloom than there is room for. On almost a daily basis, the forest and roadsides undergo the usual Alaskan floral shuffle, with flowers large and small fighting for their limited time in the limelight.

Sitting quietly at home, with my meanderings limited pretty much to my own driveway, I have still enjoyed watching the changes ripple over the forest edges.

Where only two weeks ago, wild roses dominated the landscape in every direction, those hardy Alaskan plants with their delicate pink blooms are now merely part of the background greenery, nearly all their blossoms gone. It won’t be long before the rose-hips can be harvested.

Taking over the stage from the roses, we now have a plethora of wild Alaskan geraniums standing tall and lining our driveway in purple glory.

Below the geraniums, holding court at ground level are the tiny, pale pinkish-white bells of low-bush cranberry and the pure-white starbursts of dwarf dogwood.

I’m really not sure what these bright, sunny yellow wildflowers are, but they seem to thrive and are blooming in wild abandon along the edge of the gravel drive down by Jerry’s shop building.

I’m pretty sure the next round of blooms to hit center stage here in south-central Alaska will be my favorite – it’s almost fireweed season!

Right now, the distinctively tall, green stalks continue to grow skyward … you might say “like weeds”, although that’s where the similarity ends, at least in my opinion.

In spite of its height (fireweed can grow 3-6’ tall by mid-season), fireweed mostly goes unnoticed until it’s ready to bloom. Hiding in plain sight among all the other summer foliage and bright flowers, the fireweed’s long strands of pale buds stay tightly furled like a fountain of pink pearls at the top of each separate, leafy stalk.

It won’t be long, though, before the bottom-most buds will burst open in brilliant pink, almost purple blossoms.

So far, I’ve seen just a few brave stalks beginning the blooming process. Within a couple of short weeks, waves of fireweed will be blanketing roadsides, mountainsides and meadows. It’s one of my favorite summer sights.

This picture of fireweed in full bloom was taken in my yard in late July or possibly early August. Aren’t these flowers spectacular?!

The more I think about it, the more I think it’s time.

Soon. Soon I’ll be ready to pack up my own little traveling garden and hit the road again. I’m eager to see what’s growing and blooming in other parts of this beautiful state!

The Longest Day

I have a long standing love/hate relationship with Summer Solstice.

Living in Alaska, we have a habit of celebrating this day of longest possible daylight in the proverbial “land of the midnight sun” with parties, midnight BBQ’s, all-night baseball games … pretty much everything except possibly fireworks.

With a full 22 hours of functional daylight (in south-central Alaska, where I live), followed by a half-hearted dusk and then dawn again in quick succession, fireworks would be pretty lackluster. Also a fire danger.

Yes, Summer Solstice is the official start of summer. Yes, if I chose to, I could head outside right now, at 10:30 pm, and go for a drive with little need for headlights other than obeying the letter of the law.

The sky is still summer blue between the clouds as I type this, and the mountains across the valley still clearly visible. Summer in Alaska is truly amazing, and I DO love it.

I still remember one late June night, just a year or two after moving to Alaska. I was driving home from Anchorage at 2:00 am, the middle of the night, after picking up a new baby Pygmy goat at the airport. I was gritty-eyed from lack of sleep – and still marveling that dawn was already well advanced. I’ve never lost that sense of marvel.

But I also find it to be the oddest sensation. It’s daylight outside, and yet the silence is almost deafening. Standing outside in my yard, I realize the birdsong is missing. They’ve all been smart enough to go to bed.

I suppose I should follow their lead.

For me, much as I enjoy summer; Summer Solstice itself means only one thing. Tomorrow, we begin the slow but inevitable slide back towards darkness.

Midnight sun on Summer Solstice in Alaska. Photo by local Alaskan, Michael Dindeen

Odds and Ends- Mostly Odds

I’ve discovered that I seem to be less inclined to write when I’m in pain or depressed. Of course, being in pain is depressing, so maybe that’s one and the same.

I tested my theory by going back over my list of the last 18 months of blog posts.

It was easy enough to see from the dates (and gaps between dates at times) that my mood does tend to dictate my productivity. This is not a particularly good thing in a blog writer. At least I’m not a daily columnist with a big newspaper, eh? I don’t know how they do it.

On the other hand; although medical issues and the occasional accident (like my recent face-plant 🥴) are pretty much a constant in my life in one way or another, I was pleased to realize I actually haven’t spent too much time writing about them. Just the highlights, if you please!

This, unfortunately, has had the side-affect of my publishing posts somewhat inconsistently during medically-challenging times. It’s simply harder to think of fun and interesting subjects to write about when you are down.

Part of the problem also stems from me not wanting to dwell on ailments, injuries or other impediments in my writing. I can’t and won’t totally ignore health issues, but I feel that too much attention to that area of my life would be terribly boring to my followers, and probably not helpful to my own well-being and mental health.

I like to keep my stories light-hearted, entertaining or at least thought provoking. Some days, I simply don’t have much to say, and I’ve never been one to write just to fill space.

For the past few weeks (yep, since my face-plant), my right knee has been progressively more painful, tending to swell alarmingly at the mere hint of “over-doing”. [Who … me?] Boring, but sadly uppermost in my mind.

So, of course, I attended another 3-day Scent Work trial this past weekend and am now flat on my back, swallowing Ibuprofen and alternating heat and ice on a painfully swollen knee.

Hey, I’d paid my entry fees a month ago, I was looking forward to spending two nights in my RV on the edge of a beautiful working farm … and it was the last local AKC Scent Work trial scheduled this summer – I had to go!

My RV spot for the 3-day trial!

Baxter and Rhonda had an absolute blast! The farm at night was wonderfully quiet, with only birdsong and the rustle of a breeze through the trees behind my RV breaking the peaceful silence. In spite of my knee, I slept like a happy baby.

Admittedly, it would have been a lot more fun if I hadn’t spent most of the three days thinking, “My knee hurts! My knee hurts! My knee hurts!” 🤷‍♀️

On the bright side, it’s a gorgeous summer day in Alaska today. Birds are chirping enthusiastically outside my window, birch leaves are dancing on the light breeze and large, fluffy white clouds are wallowing slowly across an otherwise sparkling blue sky.

It rained last night, so everything looks and smells wonderfully fresh and bright. Wildflowers are blooming in delightful abundance, helping to scent the air with wild rose and Alaskan geranium, among many other woodsy fragrances.

A young bull moose, probably well under two years old, wandered into the side yard a short time ago, spending some time happily browsing on dandelions. He’s been a frequent visitor lately, easily recognizable by his single small, velveted antler. Jerry has nick-named him “Bull-Winkle”.

No need to walk far when such natural beauty surrounds you. This week will be dedicated to resting, relaxing and healing.

Then I’ll start planning my next camping trip. 😉