A Quick Backtrack, For Closure's Sake

My life is still unfolding at far too break-neck a pace to keep track of it all, but I'll make a feeble attempt, in case anyone out there wants to read about it.

Firstly, I want to step back for a moment and fill in some of my last week in Alaska, for it was a whirlwind indeed. I worked a whole bunch the week after I returned from my fleeting visit to New England, and then I had a 3 day weekend to do and see all the stuff I hadn't gotten to yet and still wanted to at the end of my (first) summer in Alaska. (I have taken to assuming I'll be back. Maybe not next year, and certainly not every year or forever, but there is much more of that land I want to discover and explore and soak in.)

Friday was a day of intense bonding and new experiences with old friends, spent in Wasilla with Hope, Nicole, Caitlin and Matt W. I can't in good conscience go into more details about it here, so if I've piqued your curiosity you'll have to follow up with me one-on-one.

Saturday morning Caitlin prepared a delicious and lovely breakfast spread for the five of us plus Matt D. and Mack, some more new friends of ours. We took it easy for most of the day, and eventually made our way via ragged caravan to an epic equinox celebration in an absolutely amazing, magical hippie enclave outside Palmer, known popularly as Chickaloon. Caitlin and I got continuously turned around (I give her full credit for that, generous--and honest-- as always) and so we brought up the rear on the party parade.

Perhaps partly because of the late start, I felt compelled to go all out while we were there. I probably would have in any case, it was just an extra bit of impetus. The Chickaloon Equinox Celebration was everything I can imagine wanting in a party. It was outside, under a starful sky, playing happy host to Venus and a radiant half-moon. There were numerous fires to huddle by. There was a statue representation of Shiva, god of destruction, capped by a papier-mâché serpent of epic proportions. At the peak of the party, fire dancers with torch-claws set the snake aflame. All but the fangs were consumed, along with a box of wishes for the year we wrote when we arrived, but Shiva was left unscathed. She also bore us some fresh-picked personally gardened carrots, something I'd been acutely craving all summer, so I was one of the first to taste Shiva's bounty. (Shiva is traditionally considered a male deity, but I've also thought of him as female, and as far as I'm concerned deity gender is rather irrelevant and/or open to interpretation--much like all gender in my book, so I'm not going to correct myself here.)

Prior to arriving at this party I had also found myself feeling rather starved for creative and performative outlets. So much so that I felt inspired to steal The Complete Works of William Shakespeare (loosely akin to my personal bible) off the shelf at Lucy's house in Wasilla and bring it along for the surprisingly long ride to Chickaloon. I started reading King Lear aloud to Caitlin as she drove. She, like far too many people, had never read it, so it was good for both of us.

However, I was in for many fortuitous surprises in the forest that night. In addition to everything previously described, one of the centerpieces of the celebration was a stage, primarily peopled by musicians throughout the night. Chickaloon is chockfull of them. Beside the stage was a shadow-puppet screen, and beside that there was a person-sized cage a man in a monkey-suit spent most of the night dancing his heart out within. The stage and screen both served as excellent outlets for my pent-up creative energy. I was encouraged by a few of my friends to go onstage during a transition between bands, and I ended up spontaneously creating a free-style rap with a super talented beat-boxer backing me up. I had a back-up dancer up there with me as well. I'd never done anything like this before in my life, I've barely ever even listened to rap, but I do fancy myself a poet, and I'm comfortable with an audience, and have plenty of improv. experience, so I guess it wasn't that much of a stretch. Either way, it was extremely thrilling and invigorating, and although the content of that first rap were generally less than brilliant, it was on point and quite well received. I actually ended up returning to the stage twice more later in the night when people desired further entertainment (I'm always happy to provide) and on my third attempt I was challenged by my guitar accompanist to swing a sea chantey to the riff he was laying down. Of course none of the chanteys I know would have fit well with it, so I made one up. It was quite a charming little ditty, if I do say so myself, describing my future ideal life, sailing on a boat with a goat, going cool places and visiting friends. The song mentioned that I need some sailing lessons before I can make this happen.

I spent most of the rest of the night lounging in a glorious lobster pot hippie hot tub, cooking lusciously over yet another fire, periodically switching to the cooler tub next door, where I could swim about a bit, being the very compact person I am. I made many new lovable and strange friends that night, creative and like-minded, beautiful and bearing large and wide-open hearts. There were swings with fragile paper flowers to swing on, and there was a crystal reflection garden. It is hard to describe the magic of that place and that night, so suffice it to say, I'm making Chickaloon solstice and equinox parties a tip-top priority for my future life.

Sunday morning also played host to many moments of glory and wonder. I was awed when I finally found my way to my friends' camping spot in the daylight--they'd found a perch overlooking a marvelous valley positively exploding with golden fall hues and natural beauty. We duly communed and paid our respects over and around our oatmeal breakfast, and reluctantly tore ourselves away to catch up with our contingent making its way toward Talkeetna.

Before we regrouped in Wasilla, we stopped at an awesome little thrift store just outside the bounds of the fairy kingdom we'd found. Well, perhaps within its jurisdiction. We were on a tight schedule, so we found the things we needed, each of us, within a few brief moments. We bartered with the manager, in accordance with her invitation, and I scored an authentic wool Navy sailor coat and some dapper white butler gloves for a meagre $14.

Talkeetna was a continuation of our strangely blessed journey. We saw unbelievable, truly breathtaking views of Mt. McKinley a.k.a. Denali, "The Great One" on the way there. It was directly in the line of sunshine that was battling fiercely with a dark storm cloud of impending doom. We kept skirting a line between the two, as if perfectly poised in the center of a yin yang. We drove along a yellow-leaf road until we reached our charming destination. In the car, I requested Nicole and my other artistically inclined friends to turn my body into a work of art, and they happily obliged. My back sported an exquisite pen-and-ink mermaid and ship and one or two other designs by the time we arrived.

Within moments of being in Talkeetna, another artist and hippie-friendly little Alaskan town, one that we stopped in every day we worked on the train but were never able to properly visit or see until that day, I had found my final souvenir from the summer. I selected a halibut necklace, carved out of wooly mammoth ivory by an Alaskan craftsman and peddled by his wife. It was only when I had thus completed the outfit that it became clear my summer had been discreetly devoted to compiling a whole new set of pirate garb. Nicole made me a Turkshead bracelet and totally epic badass water bottle earlier on, and during my weekend of last hurrahs I had acquired my sailor shirt, gloves and personal necklace charm.

Shortly thereafter, I sealed the deal on the fish's multiple symbolic significances by eating some outrageously delicious fried halibut in a local restaurant. We went for special Alaskan vodka drinks --blueberry, blackberry, birch and salmon flavored vodka according to our varied predilections, at the Fairview Inn, an old haunt of President Warren G. Harding, a man of much folk-lore on the train. He died a week after he dined there. So far, we're all still in tact. Perhaps that's because we only drank and played shuffleboard. Or it could be because none of us brought both our wife and mistress along for the trip, or otherwise encourage our compatriots to poison us.

My heart and mind never fully returned from Chickaloon, nor did I ever get a decent night sleep in the mix of any of this, so it was rather tricky for me to return to work on Monday. Luckily, it was our very last run, so a certain degree of zaniness and bad behavior was tolerated or ignored by my bosses, and primarily hidden from my passengers. Again, many of these stories are better left off the world-wide web, discretion being the better part of valor and all.

By Tuesday, my body was in full revolt. I was starting to feel quite run down. So my goals for the day were twofold: 1. Don't die. 2. Don't get fired. I managed to achieve both of them, so far as I can tell. Which means I'll get an end of season bonus! Huzzah!

Wednesday was transition day. Zack had moved out while we were out Tuesday. Blair was moving Wednesday, so our pack of friends catered primarily to his needs, and we had a delicious and overwhelming farewell luncheon of pizza at the Bear's Tooth in Anchorage. I did a few errands and attempted to pack throughout the day. The end-of-season celebration was that night as well. This was yet another event of great love and joy. I had a heck of a crew of co-workers and I took a great liking to many of them. Goodbyes are always bittersweet, but I felt more celebratory than sad. I had from beginning to end considered the summer a short-term experience, so I hadn't gotten unduly attached. I will probably hang on to several new friends from the train, but I expect this to proceed naturally, and feel little need to grieve for any of it.

I do grieve for yet another night's lost sleep that night, though. It can be made up, and I am working on it, gradually, but it was quite cruel to do that to my body, so many days in rapid succession, especially at the end of a long summer of chronic sleep deprivation. Still, I needed to pack, I had a plane to catch the next morning, so I stayed up through the night and, somehow or other, got it all done. Hope, Nicole and Caitlin helped with the final scramble when they awoke, about 20 minutes before our departure goal, and I met my goals for Thursday: 1. Don't die, 2. Make my flight, 3. Bring all my important stuff with me.

So that about brings us up to speed, and back to where I left off and am now, in Canada. I'll resume narrating my adventures and lifestyle here when next I can nab the time.

My first day in Canada

Started with some border troubles. Apparently they think I'm overqualified to be considered a volunteer, because I have an undergraduate degree, from Brown no less, though I can't tell whether that part meant anything to them or not. Was held up for an hour and (politely) interrogated and investigated. They looked at my letter of invitation, which Tim said they probably wouldn't need, and my criminal background check statement of official cleanliness from the Cumberland County Sheriff in Maine. He asked to see my diploma, which obviously I carry with me everywhere, and a CV, which I never had to show anyone to land this job, and also don't generally carry around, being a 23 year old vagabond over all else, but I did have 2 laptops in tow, and good thing too, because the old one had some resumes saved on it. My brain was moving slowly and aching because I didn't sleep at all the prior night, I stayed up to inefficiently and meticulously pack all my belongings in Anchorage, after I finished partying and saying goodbye to all my train friends, around 2:30 in the morning. Nicole, Hope and Caitlin were having a slumber party on Blair's king size bed in his vacated room, but I was working on getting my stuff together. Despite the horrible and chronic sleep deprivation, and its eventually unavoidable and undeniable consequences, I remembered I had a resume on that computer and sooner or later found an up to date one with all relevant teaching experience etc. Shortly after that I realized that I was still carrying around the program from the Department Ceremony of my Brown graduation. Because I'm sappy and sentimental like that, and thought it was a worthwhile memento to keep around. So I showed him that as well.

I'm not sure if it was ultimately good or bad of me to prove my worth and qualifications so thoroughly to the border police. It seems they're pretty strict with their immigration policies up here (I'm entirely unsure of why, especially with their southern neighbors who have no real motive to sneak up here to stay, work and live for extended periods, at least not while we have no military draft going, but there it is nevertheless) so his options upon reviewing my credentials were to A) detain me, B) deport me, or C) charge me $150 for a 60 day visa.

He chose option C, which I guess is good because the other two would have been a great hassle, and I would have had to rework my plans for the year a bit, though I'm sure I would have made the most of it. I was rather tired to face either that night. My understanding is that now most of the work is in Tim's hands, but he needs to open my job to the Canadian labor market, and if some Canadian labor board decides I am indeed the most or only qualified person for the job then I'll get a work visa and be allowed to stay more than 60 days. I think this will mean that he also has to pay me. Which is pretty cool I guess. I hope it doesn't unduly tax the institution, but my understanding is that I wasn't going to get paid originally more because getting a work visa sounded unpromising and like a lot of unfortunate bureaucratic effort than because he didn't want to pay me or didn't think I deserved to get paid. So I think it will work out for the best for all of us.

In the meantime, upon regaining consciousness this morning after the first night's solid sleep in a while, I toured the school with Tim and quite quickly reached the conclusion that they could use a bit more cash. So I started to brainstorm ways to get it, and I'm planning to write up a proposal in the next few weeks and see what I can come up with. Appeal to one or two of the wealthy sugar daddies I know. The ones with extra dough lying around they don't know what to do with, who believe in creative, innovative, dynamic, passionate, international, community-service-heavy education and want to help a little baby school get on its feet and make some more magic happen. So, dear reader, if you know anyone who matches this description, make sure to send their name (or money) my way. For now, I have at least one lead I plan to pursue.

We struck a spontaneous deal that if I get the school some money (the off the top of my head goal is 500,000-1,000,000,000, but I'm going to try to hash out a few more budgetary details before I write any official proposals) Tim will make sure I get to go to the world's biggest Shakespeare festival, which is apparently not far from us in Washington state somewhere. I'd never heard of it before this morning, when his wife Melissa mentioned it to me, but it piqued my interest, so I chose that as my incentivizing prize for success. I still can't remember the name of it.

I was awoken this morning-- in my new bedroom, in a dorm, which I found with Tim last night around 9 pm or so, after dining hurriedly on leftover chicken stew at his house after he retrieved me from the Victoria airport 45 minutes or so of driving away--, by Tim and Jerry, the Head of School. (Tim's the Principal.) I doubt I made a great first impression on Jerry, exhausted, groggy and bedraggled and pajama-ed as I was at 11 am, but I said hello and apologized for my extreme fatigue, feeling it was fairly justified. Tim recommended I make it to lunch at noon, so I roused myself, took a shower, got dressed and made it. I met a few of my fellow teachers over there, and ate some food. When I was finished, I went to see Tim in his office, and he took me on a private campus tour. What a lovely chap. We struck up our deal on the way down to check out the lake. I also met another coworker down there, Diana, who teaches French and two or three other things. They like to make the most of their faculty here. One of the many repercussions of not having many students or quite enough monetary revenue. But it's also kinda cool, they're making the most of everyone's varied skills and expertise. Making us work for our money, or theoretical lack thereof in the case of some of us.

I made my way back onto campus with Diana, into the French Annex where I met the campus lizard, quite lovely, and told Diana a bit about myself. Shortly thereafter, she demanded a chance to read my literary arts thesis, my 30,000 word whimsical magnum opus of silliness and gargantuan proportions. So we're off to a good start there.

Eventually it was 2:15, and time at last for me to meet my class. I did so, with style and panache. Sonia, my co-teacher and fellow-at-arms, who's been graciously holding down the fort and forging a productive and symbiotic class dynamic for the past 2 weeks, kicked the year off with a newspaper project. The students are writing articles, and had brainstormed some interview questions, many of which were written up on the white board. Sonia suggested that they practice on me, to get to know me and concurrently hone their interviewing skills.

No punches were pulled, on either end. They asked me tough and excellent questions. Including, but not limited to: "Where do you see yourself in 10 years?" "What are your 3 biggest fears?" "What do you hope to learn or do in BC?" "What's your spark?" That last requires some explanation. The Dwight school motto is something to do with uncovering each student's unique "spark of genius." I suppose it means one's passion, reason for being, motive for getting up in the morning. I don't feel I entirely understand what specifically is meant by the expression or the question, and it would be hard for me to pick just one thing even if I did, so I waffled about and listed a few things I love and am passionate about. Friendship, people, love, travel, writing, reading, acting, I believe were all included in that verbal list. I probably forgot to mention sailing and adventure, but oh well. We have all year to get to know each other. It's good they didn't get it all in one shot.

I already like all the little buggers. There are 14 of them. One sixth grader, the rest are 7th or 8th. Most are Canadian, there's one who's from South Africa but has lived for a while in New Jersey and there's another from Hong Kong. Most of them are day students, rather than boarders. It'll take a while before I can talk at length about any of them, or remember all their names, but I had a good chat with a few of the boys about hockey, and I think I made a friend out of the resident class genius. When I came in I told them to call me Shana, since we all agreed "Miss Tinkle" sounds extremely silly. I unintentionally opened a can of worms by saying I would call them anything they wanted me to, within reason. One fellow requested I call him King Edward III. Actually, this will probably be a good way for me to have pseudonyms for them on here, so I don't have to worry about talking about them behind their backs, if I feel so inclined. I probably won't much, for the sake of professionalism and confidentiality and all that important good stuff, but for the sake of writing entertaining anecdotes, I might have to from time to time. In any case, Eddie 3 is clearly a very bright individual with a curious mind and a knack for history in particular. Towards the end of the class, Sonia mentioned that she wanted to work on articles with some members of the class, and pulled them out of the interviewing session. After that, the class structure was mostly broken down. It was 2:45-3:20 on a Friday afternoon, last block, and I didn't have much interest in keeping them all in their seats to barrage them with more info about me. So we threw around some bean bags and listened to some music and talked about hockey, and the King asked if he could go to the library to read. I told him I had no objections, as long as he checked in with Sonia on his way in and she had no problem with it.

As far as I'm concerned, that's how teachers should always respond to a student's request to go read in the library. It's not how mine were usually received when I was in middle school, but I think my time would generally have been better spent that way, and it was a mistake on those educators' parts to say no to me.

Basically, I appear to be in an environment where I am allowed and encouraged to put into practice the philosophy of education I started out being raised on and have always believed in. So far, I'm a pretty huge fan of the situation.

After class got out, I attended a faculty meeting in the intimate and renovatable, but still rather charming little campus library. I mostly listened, trying to soak it in and get a sense of the place and how things work. I definitely have a lot of bearings to determine and catching up and settling in to do. Thus far, I've been doing so efficiently.

Meeting got out around 5. Chatted with Sonia and Melissa about having a meeting with the girls in my dorm because apparently there have been some pretty serious issues already emerging this year. Dinner was 5:30-6:30. The food here is, as promised, quite nice. Simple, and limited in options, but tasty. And there's salad, fresh fruit and vegetables, so I feel like train world detox is under way already, and I feel pretty good about the situation before me. Not so sure how I feel about the drum set on the stage in the cafeteria, but regardless of how I feel in practice, I certainly find the concept quite delightful. Tim thinks the dining hall needs a more creative name. I suggested the Nosh Nook. He also wants better names for the dorms, currently A, B, C and D. We're thinking something thematically linked. Like Azalea, Begonia, Chrysanthemum and Daffodil. Or Daisy. But these are just early brainstorms, given time I'm sure we'll come up with something better.

I got caught up in conversation at dinner with a couple of upper level students, 11th and 12th grade boys from Iran and…somewhere, Hong Kong perhaps, and Chiara, a girl who has been helping out in Sonia and my classroom and who plans to stick around until November or December. She attended the Dwight School in New York, which is where she hails from, and she is planning to attend Harvard next year, after her gap year gets done. The boys were asking me about college, and about why I chose Brown, and one of them, before long said, "You really hate Harvard, don't you?" I tried to explain that I was trying to be polite and not rag on Harvard, but that I actually don't hate it at all. I just didn't think it was the right fit for me, and I think it's the kind of school that many people go to or want to go to for reasons I'm not crazy about. People want to go there because it's super famous, and has a big-ass reputation, and it can help them get high-paying high-profile jobs after they graduate. None of that interests me. I wanted to go to a school where people wanted to be themselves and enjoy learning and not take themselves or anything else too seriously. And I think Brown is kind of a good middle ground, because it's that, but if you want it to, it can also help you go cool places in life. But I see that more as a convenient side effect, rather than a reason for going there. Or something like that.

I actually ended up chatting with several of the older students, those boys at dinner and some girls in my dorm (Dandelion Dorm, upper level, where the 13 boarding girls and Sonia and her family live) about colleges. Because it's something I know a thing or two about, and have thought about on and off, one way or another for at least 6-8 years now. And I guess it's the kind of thing that comes up now and then at a boarding prep-ish IB-ish school, even a hippie dippie follow-your-bliss sort of school. I don't mind, I think I have some good wisdom to impart. Mostly I try to tell youngsters not to stress so much, and just to go places they think they will be happy, learn something and have a good time. Everything beyond that is fairly irrelevant.

I had a little down time after dinner, during which I rang my parents and chatted a bit. Then we had our problem-solving powwow in our classroom module--me, Sonia, Melissa and seven of our thirteen ladies in residence. It took about an hour and a half, but I think it was productive. In any case, it ended with chocolate. Not a bad place to start.

I spent most of the rest of the night chatting with the various (hopefully former) factions of girls, about this and that, and nothing in particular, mostly fun light-hearted stuff. I seem to have most of them on my side anyway. This is promising to me. I have high hopes of harboring a happy, healthy, fun, comfortable, respectful and kind kind of living environment. My ultimate goal is dance parties in the hallways, but I'll take what I can get for now.

So…so far so good. I think I'm off for a fruitful and delightful, exhilarating and extremely educational year. Here's to it.

I figure I'll feel overwhelmed and exhausted a great deal of the time. But when I do, I can remind myself that Sonia does everything I do along with raising and parenting 4 kids. And Tim does everything he does (and more) with a wife and 3 kids and 2 cats and a dog in his house. I think this will help me count my blessings, hours of sleep, and maintain a sense of perspective. And it should help me stick to my singular sense of singleness and celebratory celibacy. Heck. Yes.

I am thinking about adopting a cat though. We'll see.

A hustling bustling time of transition

I haven't written in a whole month this time, which is simply a testament to how insane life has been. The last chunk of the train tourist season has been quite different to the earlier part in a number of ways. Shifts, for me, have become more plentiful. My last two stints of working were both scheduled six day runs, which they aren't really supposed to do to people, but have done to me quite a few times now. Before that, I had 4 days on and a day or two off before and after. Hard to think back that far. That was around the time that all my friends - Caitlin, Hope, Nicole, Matt, Lane and Sherri, went ice-climbing on a glacier without me. I'm still a little upset about that one. I've wanted to try ice-climbing ever since I knew it existed, a discovery I made when I was 12 and visiting Quebec with my French class. I love climbing things in general, and that activity seems especially dangerous, exciting, off-the-beaten-path, epic and fun. And it's not something one can do just anywhere, and Alaska, on a glacier, seems like the ideal spot to give it a go. I wasn't invited because my friends thought I was working that day, although they should have known better, and it wouldn't have been that hard for them to ask. They just sort of forget about me sometimes because I don't live with them, and we are often on divergent schedules, so I am not necessarily included in their logistical plans. This has been mildly frustrating a few times this summer, but the ice incident was by far the most notable. Hope and Caitlin also took a kayak trip a few weeks ago. They invited me, but not until it was too late for me to request those days off from work, so I was scheduled and unable to join them. Oh well. I was better able to shrug that one off. I'll get plenty of other chances to kayak.

I also had to miss what sounds like a very fun and exciting raft-float trip this past Tuesday. This time about 8 of my friends spent the day drinking and riding an inflatable raft down the Little Susitna river. They all look very happy and amused in the pictures they showed me, but it also had a number of downsides as an experience. The trip ended up taking much longer than they expected, and they had to go into survival mode as it got dark and they were all wet and extremely cold. They were rescued by some kindly Alaskans whose door they knocked on when their situation started to seem truly concerning, but they were all completely exhausted these last two days when we were working together (our last ship day!), and they have some lingering concerns about maintaining their temperatures. It sounds like the adventure was well worth the suffering therein (what's an adventure without some unpleasant inconvenience, after all?), but I was once again able to let it slide. I had to work, and I didn't begrudge the hours too much because I just took my longest break of the summer last week, 5 whole days(!), to go home to New England.

Although most of my time during the past several weeks has been spent on the train, I have found a few diversions and ways of getting through it. I was starting to get pretty burnt out on the whole thing in late August, a bit early to be fully mentally and emotionally and physically finished, considering there was still an entire month to survive. But things took a turn for the more bearable. My 4 day run August 24-27 was like a return to the summer camp feeling I had at the beginning of this job. Days one and three were both dead-heads all the way North, so I got to rest and relax and play cards and chat and hang out with my friends who were all on the train with me. I spent a good deal of that Friday trying to make plans for Healy/Denali for that evening. It was a nice sunny day, and we'd rested for most of it, so I felt like the time was ideal for whitewater rafting or rock-climbing, or going into the park for a hike, or SOMETHING. At first it seemed like many people on the train were on the same page, but once we got in, around 5pm, most people's ambitions had retreated. I had also lost my phone in a movie theater a few days earlier, which made coordination trickier. Still, I was determined to venture, regardless of whether people came with me or not.

In the end, I took several different shuttles into an unfamiliar part of Denali National Park (which describes, well, all of it), the final one taking me about 15 miles in, along the Park Road. (There's only one. And the park is 6 million acres. Roughly the size of Massachusetts, I think.) I was at first the only person on the bus at that hour, because it was coming on nightfall and there were only one or two opportunities to come back from my destination, the Savage River, that day. We picked up one more passenger on the way, a girl named Jenna, my age, who was spending the summer working at the Holland America lodge. As I was alone, didn't have a phone, needed to work early the next morning, and hadn't eaten lunch or dinner, I wasn't sure I wanted to hike, I thought I might just take the bus to its terminus, look around at the scenery for a few minutes, and then take it back around 7:30. Otherwise, I would have to wait until 9:30 to head back, which would mean quite a late dinner and return to the Deathstar in Healy.

However, I made acquaintance with Jenna (and the bus driver) on the way out, during which we stopped to peer at a huge bull moose with a huge antler rack, eating just off the side of the road and thus causing a tourist traffic jam. And we were both more interested in hiking with company than without, so I went along with it and we went out and hiked for a while. She'd been there several times before and knew the area. It had turned a bit rainy, cloudy, and cold as we went, but the colors of the brush and trees and mountains were just incredible. And the sunset that greeted us upon our return was alone worth it.



Those will give you some idea, but they certainly don't do it justice.

Not having a better camera and more photography expertise has been one of my greatest regrets this summer. Still, even given perfect tools, it is nearly impossible to capture the magnitude and splendor of the visual displays Alaska regularly puts on.

In any case, it was a great little adventure. I finished it off by going to the Salmon Bake, a restaurant owned by the same fellow who created 49th State in Healy. Both have truly excellent food and lots of good beer and whiskey as well. I scarfed down a halibut taco, and then ran to catch the 11pm shuttle to my sleeping place.

I had the following Sunday and Monday off. Sunday I stayed up all night for one of those crazy nights of Shana-hood. I'm not sure what I was doing. The next day was also sunny and beautiful, so I roamed around Anchorage, treated myself to a tasty brunch at Humpy's, and then went to a local theater, the only one I've discovered that's producing this summer, to see the musical 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee. I was quite sleepy, but it was wonderful and good for my soul to be in a theater again. The next day I went to the Alaska State Fair with my Seward deckhand friend Jacob. It was an amusing phenomenon, and I floated through it very placidly.

Then I worked another 6 days, which was hard and exhausting. I got almost no dead legs, and I had to work with a rail guide who was quite unpleasant to me for the first two days. But I knew all along I'd get to go home at the end of it, and that helped sustain me.

My last night before heading home, I found myself in Healy again, and this time I enjoyed a bonfire in a dried up glacial riverbed of silt with some other train employees. I saw my first wild caribou that day on the train and a fox in the riverbed that night. The fire was huge and very excellent.

My New England tour was rushed, too rainy, and I didn't get enough quality time with anyone, but it was really nice to get away from work and the train and my crazy sleep-deprived, sleeping in different places every night, living on scraps and mostly spending time alone Alaskan lifestyle. It was wonderful to go to Brown and see many of my friends there. I threw a party my first night in town, drank too much honey whiskey and hungoveredly attended a brunch with friends the next morning. I crammed in as much social time as I could, in the brief 30 hours I was there (after also not sleeping at all on my red-eye flight, and around 12 hours of travelling to get there.) Then I met up with my parents in Boston, drove back to Portland, and was there for Wednesday and Thursday, before heading back to Boston Friday and investing another 12 hours into getting back to Alaska, and heading back to work for 6 more days.

I took care of some important business while I was home. I shopped for a new computer (mine is nearly at the end of its 5 year rope), snuggled with Tiger my cat, ate some wholesome and delicious food, Thai and lobster, mostly, got a criminal background check done for my teaching gig in Canada, and paid off the rest of my college loans. So now I am truly free. And I went through my stuff and attempted to pick out everything I want/need my mother to mail to my new temporary home in BC. Mostly I chose books and old journals.

Going home so close to the end of the season seemed silly to many of my coworkers, but I think it was brilliant. I got through 3 more runs this past week, now I have 3 days to enjoy end of season festivities with the mini-gang, then one more run this coming Monday, a day to pack and one week from today I'll be greeting my class in British Columbia, and trying to figure out a brand new lifestyle, before I have any time to debrief this one. But that's the way I like to live, for the most part, from one great event and adventure to the next.

A Lesson Best Left Unlearned

One mistake in life I’m fairly convinced I will never learn from is getting sunburnt. It just makes me too happy. I take it as a sign that I’m doing something correctly in my life. Especially get sunburned in Alaska in August; this is no small feat, and I achieved it with pride and glee.

I haven’t updated this in a while, but the general trend of this past few weeks has been working quite a lot. I have been more or less on the same schedule as my friends Hope, Nicole and Caitlin, particularly when it comes to North-Bound Ship Days, the bane of my existence and that of most people who work on the train. The double brutality of getting to work at 4:45 in the morning and then spending 10 whole hours with tired cranky people who just got off their luxury cruise and expect a similar level of service and/or have lost all interest in spending more money on food and drink is a lot to face. And I’ve gotten to work nearly every one for the last few weeks. We also had a scheduled 6 day run, with two such ship days included, a week or so back, and it’s taking a little while to fully recover from the fatigue of that. Also, as the season is starting to wind down, some people are leaving, going back to school and doing other such silly things, so more shifts are opening up. Meanwhile, we’ll start seeing a drop-off in passenger counts before long as well. So it’ll be interesting to see how all that plays out.

In any case, we have just about a month to go before the end of the season now. The Termination Dust (first sprinklings of snow, indicating the tourist season is about to end, and winter is about to strike) is out on the mountains. Of course, since that happened a week or two ago, we’ve had a couple surges of beautiful sunny weather. But it’s far from consistent, and we’re also getting quite a lot of rain, depending on where we are. The weather changes many times a day, most days, especially as we travel along. The sky was lit up in a beautiful sunrise display this morning, and it was clear and blue and radiant all day yesterday, but now it’s raining again in the Anchorage railyard.

The time pressure started to get to me last week, when I realized I had less than 6 weeks left in my summer in Alaska, and it’s just going to get colder and nastier, most likely faster than I expect, and I better get in some more quests and trips before it’s too late and I run out of time, energy and motivation.

Thus, I organized myself a trip to Seward last Friday. I had Thursday and Friday off, and I was invited to go ice-climbing Thursday, which was extremely tempting, but I also had a lot of errands to run and stuff I needed to take care of, and sleep to catch up on, at least a bit, so I ended up missing out on that, but making it even more of a priority to make plans that day for Friday. I tried to find a buddy or two to go with me, but also because of the craziness of the schedule, most people that could have gone were out on the train Thursday and couldn’t give me a conclusive answer until after it was already too late to make advance reservations. So in the end I decided to be independent and just go have a Seward boat glacier and whale-watching adventure on my own.

For the most, it worked out pretty perfectly. I enjoy my own company, and I had to get up at 6 in order to take a bus ride down there ($40 round-trip with industry benefits, quite a deal for 6 hours of travel), so I was happy to sleep for most of the southward journey. I had my ipod and journal and book (then A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, though I am shifting gears to Frankenstein for the next two days).

I went out on a 6 hour National Park cruise tour. I had a perfect day for it in most ways—the sky was clear, blue, bright, sunny and stunning, the water was perfectly still and calm, like a really really big lake with glaciers and sea mammals in it. The downside was that it was not the best day for seeing whales. I saw only one, some saw a second as well, and we saw its tail a couple times but no breaches or any crazy maneuvers. Whales were a pretty high priority for me out here, so this was something of a disappointment, but I really can’t complain at all about the experience. It was a gorgeous day, so beautiful I even managed to get sunburned from being out on the water exposed to the elements and reflections for 6 hours straight, and I saw 9 glaciers, one of which was “calving,” cascading chunks of ice into the water with great rolling noises of thunder, plus harbor seals lying on floating icebergs, sea otters floating and fooling about, porpoises feeding and playing with us a bit, a whole great pack of sea lions up close, resting on a rock, some puffins and “meres”, a cousin of penguins that actually can fly, but aren’t very good or graceful at it, a hunting bald eagle, and some jellyfish and salmon and other cool birds. So all in all it was a pretty sweet day for wildlife, weather and life in general.

I actually liked the boat ride so much I am considering going back to Seward and doing it again, or doing a different version of the tour. There’s a four and a half hour trip where you take a catamaran out instead of the big tour boat, and I think I would get a big kick out of that. I am also strongly thinking about coming back to Alaska 2 or 3 summers from now and trying to score a job as a deckhand on one of those boats, so I could go out and look at amazingly beautiful things every single day. It seems like a pretty sweet deal to me.

I made a couple friends on the boat as well. One of them was one of the current deckhands, an Alaskan guy around my age by the name of Jacob. He was very silly and fun and entertaining, great at goofing around with the kids on board. He said he’d be relocating to Anchorage in a couple weeks, I think to teach, so we swapped numbers and are planning to meet up. If nothing else, I think it’d be fun to pick his brain about his awesome job. There was another, much older fellow on the boat upon whom I think I made quite a favorable impression, and we had a couple good chats, but I decided not to give him my number, even though I could sense he was looking for an opening to ask towards the end, just because it seemed like it was more likely to end in trouble than in a harmless beer or cup of coffee and friendly conversation. It’s often hard to tell, and I certainly wasn’t getting any major sketch vibes from him, but experience has taught me that it’s usually better to err on the side of caution with random older men one encounters while traveling. I guess that makes me slightly sexist, or ageist, but there it is.

So yeah, Seward was astronomically and catastrophically beautiful, and I would welcome any opportunity to go back there in a heartbeat. I was actually invited to head back down that way Sunday night because a couple train friends were about to do what I had just done, and I was tempted despite the extreme proximity of my last visit, but I ended up being asked to “jump at the meet” and tacked on an extra day (really more like a day and half or two days all told) to my work schedule this past run. I’d just had 2 days off, and I was supposed to have another two Monday and Tuesday, so I figured it was ok to work a bit more instead. But now I’m getting again to a point where I really wouldn’t mind a couple extra days off to get my head together, take care of some non-work stuff in my life, sleep and rest a bit more.

This past day off was also great. When I finally got home late Monday evening, the party was already well under way at my house. Zack and Blair and my train friend Matt were all in the kitchen, sucking down gigantic and tasty home-made bloody marys and cooking and eating pasta, and Blair and Matt were already happily on their way. I was supposed to go to another friend’s going away party, but I got cozy and comfortable and into pajamas after my shower, and it was too hard to pull myself away from roommate bonding time.

I ended up swinging by my friend Holly’s house the next morning to say goodbye and many of the remnants of her going away festivities were still present at her house. It was another fortunately wondrous summery day (they’re really pretty rare out here, and getting rarer as August clips along toward 2 week autumn and then winter), so I spent the majority of the day wandering around soaking in some more sunshine, writing, listening to music and loving life.

I got hungry around 5:30 or so and decided to take Zack out to dinner, because he feeds me at the house quite often, and does other handy stuff around there, and is just generally a really great guy, and I’ve been really disciplined and good about saving money for the most part this summer, so I figured why not, let’s have a good meal. Humpy’s, a favorite local spot in Anchorage where I had my first meal in Alaska on May 31, has outdoor patio seating and a long list of local beers on tap, as well as freaking phenomenal food, particularly of the seafood and burger variety. I had a local hard apple cider, which was quite delicious, we split some kalamari, which was magnificent, and then I went with a healthy and fortifying portabello burger, rather than really going all out and ordering the oysters or halibut fish and chips. I will go with one of those, and perhaps order a few more drinks, as an end of season reward a few weeks down the road.

There’s been another major development in my life recently, which I’ve held off on publicizing until now because I was still mulling it over and not officially committed until last Thursday. But here it is. My favorite teacher from UWC, the fellow I studied theatre with for two years, is now the principal at another international IB school outside of Victoria, British Columbia. He told me in mid-July that he had an internship opening out there. I was intrigued, and in the midst of exploring future employment options, so I asked for more info. We emailed back and forth for a couple of weeks, and eventually the opportunity that presented itself was working as an assistant/co-teacher of an interdisciplinary expeditionary learning multi-age middle school classroom for the year. He says the teacher I’d be working with is great and very creative, and I can take as much charge in the class as I want, and will definitely take the lead on whatever projects I feel most invested in and knowledgeable about. This is the kind of education I was raised with, and it’s a model I whole-heartedly believe in. It’s a bit of a bizarre twist of fate because I wasn’t really looking to get a teaching job right now, but I have been talking for years about trying to line up a job at an international high school, possibly including the new UWC they’re opening in New Zealand in 2012, and I think teaching would be a good vehicle for me to do some more traveling and living abroad, and it would also be a job I’ll find challenging and stimulating and interesting and rewarding and fun. I don’t think it’s a forever job or a career path for me, but it’s something I could see myself being happy doing in more of a short term kind of way. And here, presented to me practically on a golden platter, is an opportunity to get some real teaching experience, in a fairly ideal sort of teaching/school environment (except for the whole middle school thing), in a cool, brand-new living location. I’m not going to make any money, one of the more major downsides to the offer, but I will have lodging and apparently great prepared food provided to me, and they’re also covering my travel expenses out there, and there aren’t too many other things I need money for, and I’ll have all the money from this summer just sitting in the bank waiting for me to get to it. So I’m not super worried about it.

The only other real downside to this job that I can see is that my plan for going home and getting some downtime before launching into the next thing is rendered impossible. The school year starts, as these things often do, at the beginning of September. My contract ends here around Sept. 20th. Tim, my new employer, said they were willing to wait for me to finish up here and come late, but that doesn’t leave me time to fart around for an extra week here and then mosey home for a week or two, and then to go hang out around Brown and see my friends and then get going in early November. I need to get out there as quickly as I can and start playing catch up. This prospect is rather daunting to me, especially as I didn’t get any kind of break or trip home between finishing college and starting to work here. And it would be nice to figure out what stuff I need from there too, as I’ve been living out of the contents of a backpack and duffle bag for the summer.

However, I am coping with this by trying to arrange a preemptive trip home, before the end of the train season. I know it’s starting to wind down, and I know a few other people that have ventured out of Alaska recently, or have plans to in the next week or so, and there are a few things I’m homesick for, much as I generally love it out here. I miss fresh fruit and veggies, and inexpensive food in general. I don’t know if it’ll be possible, but I’d love to get a swim in if I get a nice day in Maine. And I’d like to see Tiger and my parents and friends if I can. So we’ll see if it works out. In the meantime, life is plenty full and busy and fun and tiring and exciting, and I expect the next few weeks will fly by pretty quick. I’m enjoying my dead breakfast leg, but I’ll have to deal with people and do real work for most of the rest of the day, so I’ll see if I can get a quick nap in first.

The best laid plans…

…when laid aside may yield yurts, sea otters and car-camping on the spit at the end of the world.

It’s becoming more difficult to stay on top of updating this because the pace of life here just seems to be getting faster and faster. I usually only have one day off (or none) between runs, instead of the two I had a few weeks back. This week, I had 3 days off in a row because I requested Monday and Tuesday to join Hope, Caitlin, Nicole, Thomas, Blair and Matt on a cabin retreat somewhere near Talkeetna. Hope’s aunt has a cabin out there, a 3 mile hike through bear country.

As it turned out, this bear thing is pretty serious. We spent most of Sunday packing and preparing to get out there, only to get in the car and hear from Hope’s aunt that 7 teenagers had been attacked by a savage grizzly about 20 miles from where we were headed. The bear had a cub and was still out there. When we told Matt’s landlord this, he just calmly said, “You want a gun?” But ultimately we decided it was too great a risk, and spontaneously adapted the plan. We grabbed a tent or two from Lucy and Matt’s houses, along with a camp stove and started heading south on a 4 hour road trip to a place called Homer.

Hope and Blair didn’t make it out with us because they had stayed on the train through Sunday and didn’t want to do the drive Monday with uncertain sleeping accommodations, likely looking rain, and a need to return the next day. The rest of us discovered, once we had rolled onto the Spit at around half past midnight that the tent we had packed was actually just poles and a rain tarp. So Matt and Nicole slept in his tiny two-man and Caitlin, Thomas and I made do with sleeping in the Subaru, along with our plentiful belongings. We all continually marveled at that car’s ability to contain all our gear and needs throughout our brief trip. To be honest, only Caitlin and I slept in the car that first night; Thomas decided to stay up all night, tending to the fire and exploring the spit and the area, like a man possessed by some quiet inner mania. At least, that’s how I recognized his impulse, occasionally having similar ones myself.

It was a glorious little vacation. We took turns deejaying with each other’s ipods on the commute. The drive was beautiful. The Kenai Peninsula is extremely scenic, and one of the nicest places, perhaps in the world, for driving. It was rather rainy and overcast most of the way there, but there was a patch of clear sky just over Homer and it stuck with us for the next 2 days.

I fell abruptly in love with Homer. It feels like the end of the world, the furthest reach of human civilization, and in some ways, it is. It is populated by fisherman and hippies who live and sell their wares in yurts, or in converted beached boats or abandoned school buses. There are also many art galleries with magnificent land and seascapes (they have all the best material, after all), and everyone is incredibly friendly and approachable. There is a marine life visitor center that lent me binoculars for free, and without taking any kind of deposit. Admission to the preserve and their exhibits were also free. The scenery down there is…phenomenal, incomparable, fantastic to behold. We got to watch the extended sunset from the spit, a thin strip of land extending out between two vast blankets of water. We also had numerous excellent, up-close wildlife encounters on the way in and during our stay—a momma moose with two calves who unconcernedly munched grass for 10 minutes 10 feet from us, some bald eagles swooping just over our heads, and sea otters and sea lions floating about in the water just off shore.

It was also really nice and much-needed to conceive of the whole thing as a vacation. It was short, to be sure, but while there I was more wiling to indulge in delicious food and drink than I have been most of the time I’ve been here. It was great to get out of Anchorage and see a bit more of the state, and put the train from my thoughts for a few days. I’m getting far enough into the season that the novelty has worn off, and now it is decidedly a job. It is still a silly and whimsical, adventurous kind of job, but it is a work all the same. The getting up early and going off for two days and standing and dealing with people for 15 hours is wearing thin. But I’m halfway done, and it looks like the boss honored my request to put me on my friends’ schedule, which will be nice. The timing could have been better, as we’re about to launch into 6 consecutive days in which 2 of the 3 runs are 4:45 am arrival Northbound ship days. The worst kind of days. Still, there are less than 2 months to go at this point, and I’m determined to make the most of it.

Another highlight of the last two weeks is that last Tuesday I got a “day off in Denali.” It didn’t end up working out quite the way the powers that be led me to believe. I thought I’d get dropped in Healy Monday at 5, have that night and all of the next day to enjoy the area around the national park, and then go back to work Wednesday morning. I made plans to camp in the park with a newish friend named Josh and probably others Monday night. However, my carload of employees worked all the way to Fairbanks on Monday, and then were paid to ride the train for 4 hours back to Healy on Tuesday. This meant I really had only a half-day off in Denali, but I was determined to get some kind of trip in, and sure enough, at 2:15 I was heading off to take a flight tour to the summit of the tallest mountain in North America, flying over 70 miles of incredible glaciers and rivers and foothills and snow-capped peaks in a teeny little plane with 7 other people, including the pilot, whom I was seated directly behind.

It was absolutely unreal. I have no way to describe the sights except to say I’m really glad I got to do it. Princess employees get to take this $350 ride for free if there’s space, as long as we tip the pilot generously. Pictures also don’t do any of it justice, but it was awfully tempting to try. Unfortunately I forgot to bring my camera to the lodge from Healy. I did make friends with a gentleman from Georgia and his wife (even though he tried to claim I was his wife or daughter a couple of times) and they lentme their camera for the duration, promising to email me the pictures when they get home from their trip. I haven’t heard from them yet, but hopefully I will.

So off I go, into few weeks of rolling with the punches and various Alaskan adventures and surprises.

Another Illustrious Day Off

I didn't get up terribly early today. In fact, I was off to a rather slow start. Caitlin came over last night and we had a slumber party because she had to work this morning, and it's much easier for them to commute from Anchorage than from Wasilla before 6 am, as Wasilla is about a 40-50 minute drive away. We stayed up late talking and swapping stories. I was so tired from my run that I didn't even wake up when her alarm went off and she got ready and left for work at ass o'clock this morning.

Once I did get up, my day got interesting. I did some laundry and a bit of phone contact, and eventually made it out onto the Chester Creek bike path, in search of a frisbee game promised by my co-workers on the bus home yesterday. I know this is a pretty common day-off activity for many of the train employees, and I figured it was worth scoping it out, saying hi to everyone and perhaps getting a bit of exercise.

The weather wasn't terribly auspicious for it. It tends to change many times a day here, so it was sunny and warmish this morning, a little over-cast in the early afternoon, and shortly after I arrived at the appointed Valley of the Moon park, it began drizzling and then raining a little harder.

I was a bit torn about staying or going. It turns out I am better at throwing and catching a frisbee than I remember being. I used to toss it around casually a bit in high school, but I haven't done it much since, and I know so many people who play a lot (especially my little brother) that it seems everyone must by now be out of my league, and it's probably better for me to stay out of it.

In fact, most people have played as much or less than I have, so I was passably comfortable out there on the field, with the ~10 young men who had also showed up for the game and accompanying barbecue and beer.

Even so, I had intentions of doing some of my day-off stuff, and once it started to rain, I decided to head out and make for the library, and its accompanying internet and shelter. I got to take a new route here, which made me happy because I get rather tired of going the same way once I've done it more than 2 or 3 times.

On my way here, I noticed a woman trying to hail me through the noise of my earbuds and the speedy winds passing my bicycle. So I pulled up to stop, and put my ipod on pause to see what she wanted. She asked me if downtown was "that way," gesturing. I said yes. She asked if I had $1.75 I could give her so she could take the bus there. I said, yes I think so, and started to look in my backpack. After a brief inspection, it appeared that I had left my wallet at home, so I told her, sorry, nevermind. I did, however, have a little packet of shortbread, one of my favorite emergency ration supplies, pilfered off the snack pile on the train one day, so I offered her that. She took it, and asked how far away downtown was. She said she was from Barrow, another town in Alaska, rather far from here I think, though I'm too lazy to look up exactly where it is. I told her downtown was a mile or two from where we were. So she started walking.

I was pleased by this interaction. Anchorage seems to be a good place to try out different theories of doing good and living generously. It's not like New York or Mumbai, where the requests for money are so frequent it is practically impossible to respond positively to all of them. It seems to me, I ought to give as much as I can afford. If someone makes a request of me that threatens my ability to feed or house myself, or otherwise threatens my sense of safety or well-being, I can quite reasonably and guiltlessly say no. In most other situations, when someone needs to ask me a question, or needs money for a bus, or something to eat, and I have some time or resources I can spare, I'd rather say yes than no.

Speaking of eating, it's probably about that time. Time to head home and catch some leftovers. It's still raining, but the library is closing soon. I imagine the frisbee folks have dispersed by now, unfortunately. I may swing by the park again just to see. Or I'll try to catch them for longer next time.

A Most Excellent Birthday

I turned 23 on the train this past Wednesday. I have had to work on most of my last few birthdays, and usually this was a fact I resented and found quite frustrating. I am rather sentimental about things like birthdays, and holidays in general. I believe we ought to take more excuses than we do to celebrate things and people, and holidays are popularly agreed upon opportunities for this. And what better thing to celebrate than…me? ;)

Back in the good old school days, having a birthday in mid-July was the best. I could have my parties outside, at the beach, in parks, in a tent in my backyard. It’s usually not warm enough to do these things in Maine, but on my birthday the weather was almost invariably perfect. Plus, I didn’t have to go to school or do anything unpleasant, unlike most poor suckers.

Once I was away from home and most of my closest friends were at school with me, not being at school during my birthday became more of a bummer. I have been far away from most people I care about for most of my last several birthdays. This year I was in Alaska, last year I was in Italy, the summer of my 21st I was living in Portland, but journeyed to Providence to see a few friends, the summer before that I was in Burlington, Vermont (working on another train for tourists). My 18th birthday I was working for Environment Maine, asking people for money on the street. That was a terrible day.

This year, I decided to avoid the pangs of spending my birthday sad and lonely, far away from the people I love, by preemptively celebrating it every month, instead of just the once in July. As it turned out, I didn’t really celebrate it more than two or three random times during the school year, but I did at least nod to it and take an excuse to act silly on the 13th of most months. I threw a particularly good party in May, since it was my last chance to do it at Brown, and I had plenty of free time.

The 12-month birthday plan still strikes me as ingenious, and I will probably continue it this coming year. However, I am happy to report that it proved unnecessary as a consolation prize. I started really making friends out here just in the nick of time to have an abundance of people to invite over to my cute little yellow house in Anchorage and host a party. (I’ve discovered in the last year or two—throwing parties is something I really enjoy, and have a natural knack for. I am especially good at delegating so that all the necessary components come together.) For the first time in a while, timing worked out reasonably well, so Hope and Nicole and Caitlin were all able to make it, although they all had to work the next day. It was excellent to have some recurring characters from birthdays past, and those three girls played a big role in making my birthday wonderful. They came bearing cards, presents, a delicious chocolate raspberry cake, homemade humus (per a specific request), and Nicole even went out on a quest at around 11:30 pm to find me gin and ginger ale, because I needed them.

The party was low-key but lovely, my favorite kind of party, especially after two days of work. We saw some of the (Alaskanly-prolonged) sunset, had a brief fire in our fire pit/chimney in the backyard, and I even found an ideal tree to climb back there, which had somehow escaped my notice until then. Many of the people I invited weren’t able to make it, but there was still a solid crowd of 12 or 15 at the peak. Nicole and I attempted to teach the raucous pirate drinking song “Old Dun Cow,” and I said good night to the last few stragglers, most of whom were sleeping over, by serenading them with the beautiful Irish song “The Parting Glass.”

Even my birthday work run panned out exceptionally well. I had around 80 passengers all day on the 12th. The cars max out at 88. I told all those people it was my birthday that day; I figured it might help with tips, and make the day more fun. The morning group was fun. One 60ish year old Asian man had brought his guitar with him, along with some sheet music and lyrics. He was all about having a sing-along, which eventually we did. I, upon request, performed for the car a couple of times, singing the chorus of Northwest Passage (which is the most Alaska-related song I know) as well as Tell Me Ma (just because I like it, and know it well.) We also got pretty much the whole train car to sing Country Roads, and I joined the guitarist in singing Stand By Me. It was all very silly.

That night I hung out with some of my newer friends, fellow bartenders Jason and Charles. They are both much more experienced (and a few years older) than I am, and it was kind of cool to pick their brains and try to pick up some bartending savvy. First we had a decadent feast, compared to the usual microwave or granola bar Fairbanks fare. We pooled our resources and had a mini-dinner party, complete with avocado, humus, tomato and olive bread. We also went out to a local bar in Fairbanks (my first time doing that) a little after midnight because I figured, why not? It was my birthday, and we were all only “live” for breakfast the next day. I had two drinks, a Washington Apple shot courtesy of Jason, and a shot of honey whiskey on the house because I guess I made friends with the bartender. I was also out in full Shana style, wearing my favorite silk green pajama pants.

Generally, everyone was exceedingly nice to me throughout my two-day birthday extravaganza, especially my co-workers on the train. Another friend, Robin, made me a birthday crown out of three purple flowers we usually put in vases on the dining room tables. One of the on-board managers, my friend Chris, was taking bets on how long a certain dog would chase the train if we slowed down to 20 mph in his area. Apparently, he always tries to chase us but we’re usually going too fast for it to go anywhere, and the engineer for the day, “Animal,” had agreed to help with this experiment. My very cool friend Sandra spotted me for my wager. I put my dollar on 23 seconds. It seemed like the most auspicious number. Unfortunately, the dog failed to appear that day, but we’re hoping we’ll be able to settle the pot the next time we’re going south with that ARR and management crew.

I wanted to sell tons of delicious drinks the morning of my birthday, and was all gung-ho, offering Woo-Woos and Sex on the Beach as the day’s specialties. Didn’t have any takers, though. It’s hard to get people to drink before noon, it turns out. Still, I was determined to have a good day, and I was extremely perky (perhaps also a little caffeinated, running on about 3 hours of sleep) and had some great conversations with passengers. I made friends with one guy who had traveled to many of the same places in Europe that I have. He even said he would vote for me if I ran for president, when that came up, which is something I have never gotten tired of hearing, particularly from relative strangers. Finally, I capped off the morning by testing my Bloody Mary mix, which is delicious. There were other vices (like being barefoot) I was hoping to enjoy on the train that day, but some upper management came aboard so I mostly just napped and made and handed out party invitations.

And, of course, July 13th was a beautiful, sunny, clear-skied day, even out here in Alaska.

My post-birthday Thursday was also delightful. I had the day off and spent a good chunk of it checking in with friends from afar. I was biking downtown when my friend Alli called, so I serendipitously arrived in a beautiful garden outside of the Anchorage Museum. I was far enough away from traffic that we could converse with ease, and I sat surrounded by flowers and sunshine. I wandered accidentally to the coast because my pirate feet naturally always lead me to water, and then I backtracked to a lovely coffee shop with free wireless, where I set up for much of the remaining afternoon, reading through birthday wishes from people I love.

I ran a few more errands, including buying myself some small presents at Fred Meyer: envelopes, scotch tape, a new journal, some new pens, hand soap and granola. I stayed up a bit too late chatting with my roommate Blair, but the birthday luck held and I didn’t have passengers on Friday, so I was able to catch up on some sleep then.

All in all, I’ve been on a cloud of joy and well-being and gratitude for the life I have and the people in it. I have nothing but hopeful and exuberant anticipation for the year and years ahead of me. I have many choices to make, but I know I can’t go too far wrong as long as I keep paying attention and living, loving and enjoying.

I’m on the schedule to have a “Day off in Denali” this coming Tuesday. Hopefully this means I will get to do some camping and awesome expeditions. Will report back shortly.

No good deed goes unpunished OR Anchorage’s Seedy Underbelly OR A Crash Course in Money Management by Shana Tinkle, for street-urchins near you

First, one of the clearest pictures of Mt. Denali/McKinley I've ever seen. Credit goes to my friend Briana the bartender. Taken July 5th.
Many people in Anchorage are less fortunate than I. All of the passengers on the train have more money than I do, except for a few of the children.

I am, as I may have mentioned, making a bit less money than I originally thought or hoped I would. This is because of a variety of factors. Bartenders make less than almost anyone on the train. I guess we make more than dishwashers and cooks. But food servers and rail guides definitely get tipped more, as a general rule. This is due to several factors. Most people eat, since they’re on the train for 4 or 8 or 10 hours, and the food costs a fair bit of money. It’s basically a guarantee that if they eat, they will tip at least 15% of the meal cost. Most people understand that to be proper tipping etiquette. And thanks to the bartender’s speech encouraging them to do so, most everyone tips the rail guide for their tour. Not everyone wants to drink on the train. Many of the people who want beverages order water or free coffee or hot tea or $2 hot chocolate or refillable sodas for $3.25. Many of those people don’t tip at all, even if I end up spending more time waiting on them than anyone else. Even with those who do drink alcohol, it takes quite a few drinks to add up to the price of a meal downstairs. So tipping is intermittent and sometimes disappointing.

I am still making an hourly wage, $8 an hour, and $12 for every over time hour. But I am also usually only working about 4 out of 7 days. Usually, those days are 15 hours each, so I guess that makes sense. But sometimes we lose out on hours because instead of doing the whole 30 hour trip, Anchorage-Fairbanks and Fairbanks back to Anchorage, we get dropped off in Denali (the 2/3 mark going North), and then either bussed back the next day, and thus paid for 5 hours of “work” instead of 15, or we work a “ship day” in which we get about 12 hours. Either way, less over time.

And then of course there are taxes. And rent. And utility bills. And groceries (sometimes) and expenses.

I am attempting, this month, to pay for all of those things out of pocket, with whatever I’ve made in tips (except, of course, for the taxes. Which, ultimately, I hope to get back.)
It’s not easy, especially because some people tip with credit cards. Basically, my system is that when I get back from a run, I put all the cash I have into a “save for rent” envelope except for about $10, which is my spending money until I refill my wallet with new bills.

I’ve been trying to limit myself to one meal out per pay period (2 weeks). Recently, I’ve started being a bit more social, which means the added expense of going out and drinking at bars, or buying beer or other stuff to consume at the BVI, and it turns out one of the bars in Healy (49th State) has amazing food, so I usually end up spending some extra money when I’m there, particularly for the sake of sweet potato tots, one of the most delicious and decadent things I’ve ever tasted.

Generally, I’ve found the best way to avoid spending money is to work as much as possible. You have less time to wander around frittering, several meals and snacks are provided, and you’re adding bills to your pocket. Good thing I worked the last 6 days in a row. :) Yesterday, on my first day off, I indulged in a wonderful California roll at a Japanese place in downtown Anchorage (surprise, surprise, the seafood is good here.) $12. Then I ran into a super silly street performer at the weekend market and chucked him a buck. He suggested a donation of $5, but I decided I needed the money more, and worked harder for it. I was hoping to buy a new gallon of milk and some fruit.

Later in the day, I went out on a long solo walk, mostly using the Chester Creek trail. I took some lovely pictures, and then I ran into a group of neighborhood kids on my way home. Long story short, I decided to spend 6 of the last 7 dollars left in my wallet, my allowance for aforementioned groceries and necessities, because I had already put the rest of my tip money from the week into my rent envelope. They wanted snacks, and only had a dollar between the four of them. I knew that wasn’t enough for too many snacks. I tried to explain to them that they needed to share, and just choose a couple snacks, and that they needed to negotiate and compromise in order to snack within their means. But they had a hard time not all getting exactly what they wanted.

Eventually, after about 45 minutes of interacting with these kids, making friends with them, striving to teach them some valuable life lessons, buying them snacks, and attempting to get the second youngest (K.P.) to stop her incessant and noisy habit of crying, I finally reached the end of my very long rope of patience, nudged the 6 and 4 year old out of the gas station where they were now also driving the clerks crazy with all their noise, and told them that if they didn’t stop crying, I would leave them there and go home. They kept crying, so that’s what I did. I needed to pee, after all. And I figured, they got themselves there, and we were just a few blocks from where they lived, and the older two (who had, by this time, run off with their swag) at least knew where they had left them, and could come back and find them if it came to that.

I’m not sure what the take-home lesson from all this is. I knew after 2 minutes of talking to these kids that they were going to take me for a ride if I wasn’t careful. Their fourth question (out of about 75) was “Do you have any money?” followed directly by “Can we have it?” Still, I felt it was the right thing to do to help them out. I figured they probably needed the snacks more than I needed to spend that particular $6 on milk and apples. So I guess the moral is that small kindnesses have their own internal rewards, and it’s better to rely on them than to expect gratitude or acknowledgement from others. And at the end of the day, the thing that it’s most important for me to use my resources on, after looking out for my basic necessities, is helping other people.

I’ve been keeping very busy with work and socializing and writing, reading, biking, and occasionally watching movies or relaxing. But when I do have time to myself, it occurs to me that I don’t want to stagnate or regress in any way. I want to maintain a sense of forward momentum. I want always to be learning, and growing, and improving myself. I am trying to continue past trends of staying in touch with people that are far away, and refusing to lose friendships that are important to me simply because of distance. It’s not an easy task, but it is, I think, the greatest struggle I have and will continue to face in my life, the separate pulls of constant adventure and seeking the horizon, motion and new locations, versus the desire to have continuity in friendships and relationships over time.

In the meantime, practically everyone I talk to has a new idea for something I can do with my life, or something I can try in the next few years. I had a lot of ideas and options when I got here, and now I have even more. I am struggling to choose between:

1. Going off to someplace exotic, perhaps New Zealand, to get work on a sailboat
(I’m assuming the appeal is obvious.)
2. Returning to Alaska in November to spend 5 months bartending in Dutch Harbor, Unalaska, Alaska (yes, it’s really called that). A train friend said she could get me a job there where I would make $500/day, serving workers in the fishing industry. It’s the busiest fishing port in the US, by volume caught (according to Wikipedia.) It’s also an island, where I would be surrounded by water and boats. And the temperature is supposed to be much milder than most other parts of Alaska in the winter, and it’s in the south, so it doesn’t get as dark as others, and it has ocean and mountains, so it will snow a lot (which I like.) I sort of like this idea, both because it’s crazy, and I would make a ton of money, but also because it somehow appeals to me to finish off my Alaska Experience this year. I’ll have spent a summer here, then I can spend a winter, then I’ll know what that’s like, and say I’ve done it, and then I can go off to someplace warm and tropical and call it a day. I would also probably get to see amazingly beautiful scenery, skies, light playing in the snow, Northern Lights and whales.
3. Moving to New York and starting an acting career, with probable bartending on the side.
4. Getting a teaching job in Asia
5. Getting some kind of job in Australia. Perhaps taking that opportunity to get super Scuba certified, so I could later/soon become a divemaster on a boat somewhere
6. I’ve also reopened the idea of applying to the Peace Corps, and/or a Fulbright (though I have no idea how I would narrow down the what and where for that app.)
7. I am still planning to sooner or later apply for the Foreign Service or some other government or non-profit track job in which I can help people and foster peace and be diplomatic and make the world better. But I think this is still a few years off.
8. Whoops, this is usually option #1. I might also move to Bolivia for the year and live cheaply and write and learn Spanish and do theater with street kids
9. I got a suggestion from a friend to work for another theatre company that tours around all over the place and does something. I forgot to look closely at the details, but it also sounded sweet.
10. My dad also forwarded me an email about an opportunity to teach or work at the Island School in the Bahamas (where my younger brother spent a semester in high school.)

So, options are not my problem. The problem is picking something. I might need to make a web and put it on my wall and throw a dart at it and resolve myself that way, leaving it to chance. With this number of ideas, it would just take too damn long to evaluate the pros and cons of everything. How much money I have at the end of this season will have some impact on my decision, but basically everything else is up to chance and up in the air.

Damn. It’s fun to be almost 23. (Of course, I long ago decided to calculate my age by adding the digits together, so I never get to be too old, so I’m actually about to turn the wonderful and worldly, very zen age of 5. Just like Rucha, my new Indian San Franciscan friend from the train, who is also an aspiring writer, precocious and curious about the world around her. We hit it off right away. Actually, I made friends with her whole family, parents and grandparents and all.)

I ought to be writing more often, I am stock-piling stories at a rate I can scarcely contend with. My parents loved the one about the town of Ferry (population ~25) who have an annual tradition of collectively mooning the passenger train as it passes on the 4th of July. The railroad pissed them off in the 1920’s, by telling them they couldn’t drive to the other side of town on the railroad bridge (because it was incredibly dangerous), so they’ve been mooning us ever since. Don’t believe me? Here’s a picture.



I’ve faced plenty of unexpected challenges each run. I am literally surprised by nothing now, anything is possible on that train. One great tragedy this past week—a full bottle of Bacardi slid off my liquor counter (where generally the booze sits snugly and securely on a mat, despite the constant rocking of the train) and crashed to the floor, spreading glass shards for me and soaking the back of my black pants in rum for the rest of the day. As a pirate, there are many worse things I can imagine smelling like, but I haven’t felt like my uniform was quite up to snuff ever since.

Alaska is a supremely weird and quirky place, mostly thanks to its populace. I’ve learned to pay close attention when I roam around. You never know what you’re going to come across.

Yup, that's a pet reindeer he's got there.

And, of course, my neighbor's roof is covered in antlers and skulls.


I know I am gaining a lot from this summer and this experience in terms of learning some new practical skills (something I felt I lacked in my time at Brown), and meeting dozens of new people from all kinds of backgrounds, with approaches to life both similar to mine and in some ways very different. Many of the people I work with have made or intend to make a lifetime career out of seasonal and/or customer/food service work. This is not my intention. This is something I want to try, to dabble in for a little while, so I can see what it’s like, and live somewhere different and exotic for a temporary period of time. But ultimately, I am too ambitious to do this forever, and I wouldn’t want my scholastic or creative education or inclinations to go to waste. Thus, I came to the library today to get myself some books I missed as an undergrad—some Proust, Joyce, Freud, David Foster Wallace and Frankenstein.

It’s not easy to find time for everything I want to do, but I have found that this is very valuable and grounding solo time for me. There is little separating me from a homeless person. I have a house, but I sleep on a double-folded (and therefore very skinny) flimsy futon mattress on the floor, surrounded by little stacks of my belongings. I pack and unpack my backpack every single day. I have responsibilities that are entirely new to me. It’s hard to balance all this with also making sure I’m eating all the right things and getting enough exercise, but I am in a brand new world where I have plenty of food for thought and I am making progress in deciding what matters to me, what I want to do and where I want to be. (Essentially, everything/everyone, everything and everywhere.)

Chugging Along

Somehow, I’ve already been living in Alaska for over a month. I’ve been out on 9 runs with the train. Each brought unique challenges and surprises, but patterns have certainly started to emerge.

My last day off (before today) was Thursday. Much of that day was devoted to such grown-up activities as paying rent and utility bills for my house. I had to open a new bank account out here because Bank of America only has one ATM in the whole state of Alaska (located at the 5th Ave. Anchorage Mall), so now my money is stashed in 3 places instead of 1 (not to mention the little stashes of cash I tend to keep in my room, in case of emergencies, a need for bail money, or a particularly rainy day when I decide to buy a ticket elsewhere). So far I’m managing to keep good track of it all, mostly by never spending anything on anything if I can help it.

Some of you, familiar with my antipathy toward cooking and preparing food for myself may be wondering how I’m getting along in the self-feeding department. To be honest, it’s been less of a burden than I anticipated. Lunch and snacks are provided on the train when we head north-bound, as are breakfast and lunch south-bound. When we stay over in Healy, we also get dinner at the employee lodging there. The food is pretty bad, but it’s free and warm and probably has some protein, and it’s food and that’s sufficient for me. They also usually have fruit, which is a luxury I’ve come to appreciate immensely here. I’ve always liked fruit, but I took it for granted as a kid and in college. Now that I have to buy my own groceries in Alaska, I’ve turned into something of a fruit smuggler. Most food is really expensive here, because we’re at least 1500 miles from civilization (unless you count Canada ;) and much further from most sunny warm places where fruit is grown, so by the time it gets here it is both over-priced and less than inspiringly fresh. Thus, I purchase it sparingly. But I usually take at least 2 apples when they show up on the train, eat whatever orange slices are left in my garnish tray at the end of a run, and adopt a couple of apples and oranges every time I’m at the Healy Homestead, to parcel out to myself over the next day or two.

My roommates, Zack and Blair, also sometimes cook dinner and share it with me. And when I overnight with the train crew in Fairbanks, we are bussed to Fred Meyer (the local grocery superstore) where we generally buy microwavable sustenance for the night. My purchases on those excursions thus far have included: an apple with a jar of peanut butter and a pre-made tuna sandwich (which was disgusting and inedible, not a mistake I have repeated) three boxes of granola bars, a bag of grapes, a frozen burrito, a frozen Indian dish, a box of Easy Mac packets (not sufficiently thought through- those require microwavable bowls, which the BVI does not supply, so I improvised and used the flimsy ice bucket I found in my room and supervised to ensure it wouldn’t melt). As you can see, far from a glamorous or especially nutritious collection of food, but so far I have been too lazy to plan ahead and cook something to bring on the train and microwave when I get there. I am also usually too tired to do much on the nights when I return from a run to my house in Anchorage, and my supplies are limited. I’ve eaten some beans, some bean and rice mixtures, a couple of tuna sandwiches I made myself (all of which validated my decision to shell out 8 bucks for a real can opener, rather than continuing to struggle with Blair’s gadget-knife). On one of my recent days off, I actually went so far as cutting up some vegetables and adding them and a few spices to the pasta and tomato sauce I was cooking. And I made one delicious egg scramble with tuna, feta, onion and salsa in it. But that’s about as ambitious as my culinary projects have gotten. As long as survival, basic nutrition, lack of effort and frugality remain my primary kitchen concerns, this approach will have to do.

I have now been here long enough that some existential questions have begun to nag at me. I know that I will be here until the end of September. During that time, I hope to earn a lot of money, though I don’t think I’ll walk away with nearly what I imagined before I started. I also hope to see a healthy bit more of Alaska, and take advantage of some of the unique and magical properties of this place. These two goals are somewhat in conflict with one another, but I expect some kind of balance can be struck. Additionally, I would like to develop a few more friendships with my co-workers out here, if for nothing else at least to have company and assistance in seeking Epic Alaskan Adventures (since my resources and knowledge of the area and what to prioritize are severely lacking, and hiking/camping/climbing and other excursions are usually more fun when not undertaken solo.) I enjoy and am comfortable in my own company, but it’s something I prefer in moderate doses.

I’ve made some progress in the friend-making department. It’s been slow because, in addition to the fact that my standards are high and it takes some time for me to declare myself “friends” with someone new, our schedules are erratic, unpredictable and intense, so I’ve had to do a fair bit of starting fresh, rather than working with the same people multiple days or weeks in a row. Also, much of the social scene among train folks involves drinking at bars, either in Anchorage, Fairbanks or Healy, and this is something I prefer to avoid because it is an enormous and totally optional fund-sap and the effects of alcohol on my body have proven 9 times out of 10 to be more negative than positive. I still maintain, when the mood strikes, that “I’m a pirate and can drink as much as is necessary!” So I am as ever, quite susceptible to challenges. But happy to abstain for now.

In the past few days, both in and out of bars, and during down-time on the train, I’ve had some good conversations and card games and other social activities with a few of my co-workers. So seeds of friendship have been planted, anyway. Now it’s just a matter of taking advantage of when our schedules do overlap to continue getting to know each other and hopefully going out into the wild some more. I’ve barely seen the Portland/Wasilla girls. I’m considering asking the scheduling lady to try to coordinate our runs more often if she can. In the meantime, I’ll do what I can, and sleep when my body demands sleep instead of going out, and try to enjoy my solitary down-time. It’s not as though I’m starved for human contact; I endure an abundance of it every day I work on the train. The difference is that spending time acting friendly and cheerful to strangers is rather draining, while having friends is restorative and beneficial to the soul, and essential to my happiness.

I have met some wonderful, kind and engaging passengers. Usually there are a couple in each group that want to have a real conversation with me. I always enjoy that, and find something to learn. I met a lovely couple from Kentucky (hello, if you’re reading this!) who were passionate about scuba diving, which recalled my latent desire for learning that world and those skills. A possible job for some time in the next few meandering years—working as a divemaster on a sailboat somewhere warm and tropical. Sounds ideal! Yesterday I met a man from Hawaii, which reminded me that that would be a pretty sweet place to live. And I’ve had a few good chats with Australians (although in general they are unpopular on the train because they are not accustomed to tipping), and they’ve recommended some good backpacking destinations in their part of the world.

I have yet to settle on a next destination or employment goals for the near or more distant future. I have many ideas, and I still have some time to consider.

Pictures will be forthcoming soon, I promise. Technology and I don't seem to have lots of patience for each other. But I'll get to it.

I'm launching into another six days in a row of work, but I'm slightly more prepared for it this time. I hope.

Life begins to resemble summer camp

After my bath-of-fire, learn quick or die, endurance-testing beginning on the train, my employers have given me a very restful week of recovery. One might even say too restful, but I’m not sure I’m prepared to go that far.

I had last Tuesday and Wednesday off. I took that time to relax and recuperate, and run some necessary errands. I bought myself a bike to make the morning commutes and getting around Anchorage easier and more efficient. I got myself a library card. The Anchorage public library has very quickly become my best friend out here. I visit it almost every day off I have. It makes for a nice little outing, there’s free internet, and now, when I feel like it I can start taking advantage of all the books and movies and CDs. They also have a lovely little lawn with a beautiful fountain/sculpture, and it seems to be an auspicious place for young children and families to congregate and play. I’m lying in the grass there now.

My big brother Adam and his girlfriend Jess had been thinking about coming up to visit this coming week. I went into the rail office on my first day off to talk to one of the bosses about when and how I could get them rides on the train, and if there were any other employee benefits we/they could take advantage of. Unfortunately, I didn’t really know where to start or what questions to ask, and he seemed rather preoccupied and wasn’t very helpful, so we decided to postpone the visit until later in the summer or perhaps another time. I would have loved to see them and explore with them a bit, but I’m so new to this job, it was a bit overwhelming to try to coordinate. Hopefully it will work out that they can come later…

I went back to work Thurs-Fri last week. Apparently the universe really wanted to ease me back into this whole “labor” thing, because my car wasn’t part of the train “consist” on the way up to Fairbanks. It was waiting there, which meant I didn’t have to do any work for the first day. I spent most of the day sleeping, looking at scenery, reading Faulkner, working on my poetry and daydreaming, meanwhile earning an hourly wage for the first 8 hours and time and a half for the other 7. Not a bad deal, as far as I’m concerned. My assigned roommate in Fairbanks wanted to spend time with another friend, so I once again had a room to myself. I hung out and drank a little wine and did a little yoga with my buddies Sarah and Thomas, and also talked religion and spirituality with a server named Tania.

Friday I also had a dead leg for breakfast. By this point, I was so well-rested I couldn’t sleep much more, but I was amused and delighted when I was standing on the open-air platform, looking out at the world and hundreds of butterflies passing by, and both my on-board managers suggested I take a nap. I’m definitely starting to love this job.

Had Saturday and Sunday off as well. Hindsight being what it is, I wish I had arranged my weekend differently. Weather-wise, Saturday was an ideal go-outside-and-bike-and-have-adventures kind of day, and Sunday would have been good for staying in, reading, writing and getting chores done. But I did the opposite. Oh well. I did all my laundry and made myself some food and did other stuff on Saturday, and Sunday I went to the tourist info office, got myself a map of Anchorage to help with navigating my way around and was pointed toward the weekend market. I don’t know if they call it a farmer’s market or not, but that isn’t quite what it is. There were all kinds of vendors selling their wares. There were a couple honey booths, a fudge booth, a woman selling pearls, various Native craftspeople, some food, fried and otherwise, and there was a stage where someone was singing. It was pretty small-scale, but neat. Then I explored some of the many bike paths in town, even though it was rather cold and grey. My first priority was the coastal trail, being the sea-starved ocean-lover that I am.

I had another run Monday-Tuesday. On this one I was joined once again by Hope, Nicole and Caitlin. And I was in for another surprise. Most of the workers and cars were only needed for the first 2/3 of the first day, so we were getting dropped off in a tiny place/depot called Healy, about half an hour past where we drop passengers at Denali National Park, and then being bussed back to Anchorage the next day instead of working on the train. After so many days of relative idleness, this seemed less than ideal. I’m starting to feel pretty lazy and unproductive, and I know I need to start working and earning more. On the other hand, I’m a very go-with-the-flow kind of person, and I love that I never have any idea what’s going to happen to me when I show up for work in the morning. I like the variety and element of surprise to it all. It keeps it from getting boring, predictable or mundane.

The cool thing about ending up in Healy is that theoretically one can get a shuttle into Denali and take advantage of some of our crazy employee benefits, which include being able to do any kind of tour for next to nothing. There are helicopter and plane rides over the big mountain or to the tops of glaciers, there are four-wheeler tours of the park, covered wagon and bus tours, white-water rafting trips. Basically anything you can think of, it’s there and we can approach the lodges or vendors, tell them we work for the train, and generally, if there’s free space, we can tag along and just tip the trip leaders nicely and we’re golden. Nicole was gung-ho about trying to do one of these activities, and I was ready to join her. As it turned out, the only thing that worked with our schedule and was available that night was going to the Denali lodge dinner theatre musical. So we did that. It was hokey and cheesy and silly, but the food was pretty good, and it was fun to get out and do something, and I always like being in the vicinity of theatre, even when it’s not brilliant or moving. I’m not expecting much of that from my summer in Alaska anyway. And it was awesome to see the park a little closer up than from the dome of the train (which, as bartender, I am basically never able to leave.) It’s gorgeous.

The next day we learned once again to expect the unexpected. A couple hours into our 5-hour bus ride home, one of our tires blew out. Our driver pulled over to the side of the road. We were in the middle of nowhere, and didn’t have much in the way of cell phone signals. So an hour or more elapsed before we were rescued by another HAP bus that was passing through without passengers. We train folks kept our cool and used the time to sing songs in a circle around one of the crew who had brought a guitar along. This was one of the moments when I began to feel like I had secretly signed up for summer camp rather than a job. I also read my friends a couple pages of my thesis, since I had it with me, and we had time. :)

Tuesday afternoon-Wednesday night was one extended social solstice celebratory extravaganza. Hope, Nicole and Caitlin were hosting a party at their house in Wasilla. I went back around 4 with Caitlin and she and I chatted and drank tea and decompressed for a few hours. Then we went grocery shopping and began to prepare for the party. We were inexplicably sleepy, but we managed to shower and concoct a 2-pound pasta salad, a delicious lemon zest pound cake, and sparkling sangria before the rest of the small party crowd rolled in, around 10:30. The party was low-key, which is generally my favorite kind. I got a chance to get to know some of the train people a bit better, and to catch up with my older friends. We had a fire pit outside. We stayed up to watch the sky darken, in the 12-1:30 am vicinity, and by 2 it was getting lighter again. I went to sleep close to 4. We all had a massive sleepover, taking up couches and beds throughout the house.

The next morning we gradually roused, drank coffee, and watched the creative photo-video project of one of the returning rail guides, named Lane. His video was really cool, he had some amazing footage from hikes and kayak and ice-climbing trips he’s taken in past summers. Definitely got my blood stirring for some more Alaskan expeditions of my own. We hung out in the house playing a group game for a few hours, played outside on Nicole’s new slack-line for a bit, and then finally, around 5:30 pm a few of us decided to go out for a hike. This is one of the great advantages of the thousand-hour days out here. It’s never too late to start your day.

The hike was a wonderful experience and served as the culmination of me catching on to why all the people here are in love with/obsessed with Alaska, which has gradually been happening over the past few days. We went to a place called Hatcher’s Pass. The mountains were huge and impressive and easy to climb because they were covered in tundra moss. So we made a b-line straight up to the top, and then slid on our butts most of the way down, to go scope out the glacial lake that was awaiting us there. On the way up and at the peak, Nicole and I taught our companions a couple of sea shanties. It was an incredible feeling, being way up there, towering above the world, singing and yodeling, clearly audible to those below me. Alaska is like one giant playground, full of wilderness, animals, dangerous and awesome challenges to scale, and barely anyone else getting in your way. It seems we are perfect for each other. It’s just a matter of finding ways to get out and see and do more of it.

So I’m out in a big playground, hoping to do some camping, hiking, biking, kayaking and swimming, surrounded by people around my age who also want to do those things, when they aren’t singing around campfires, or doing their various crafts. Some of them make paper cranes, others knit, or do photography. The job itself is also a good place for picking up new skills—public speaking, mixing drinks, cutting fruit for garnishes, plus cooking for absolute beginners on off-hours. Not to mention all the romantic intrigue that goes on between this contained group slapped together for the duration of the short season. If I had gone to more summer camps as a kid, I could swear I’d just found a way to extend that experience into my post-college life. It’s very silly, and I’m excited to see where things go from here. I suspect that if I want to walk away from the summer with any substantial kind of profit, I’m going to need to start picking up more extra shifts. Because for the past week or so it seems like I’ve barely worked at all. For now, I’m just taking each day as it comes and trying to enjoy it.

Also, today was the first day EVER that me and my three roommates were all in our house at the same time. I’ve decided to call it a solstice miracle.