- Britta

Alaska Is...

      Alaska is sensory. 
            Alaska tastes like fresh salmon, eaten with a view of the mountains across Resurrection Bay; a piece of homemade peach pie-cake shared at the Fairbanks Farmer’s Market; that long-awaited piece of fruit; a PB&J eaten on the road; a slow-melting piece of chocolate savored at the top of Mt. Healy.
            Alaska smells like socks that haven’t been washed in far too long; special recipe chili simmering over a camp stove; a steamy hot chocolate from a coffee shop in an old church; just-caught halibut hanging out on the Homer Spit; the earthy, fresh, familiar scent of Seaside Farm. 
            Alaska sounds like a rooster crowing its wake-up call at Seaside Farm; Avril Lavigne’s “Girlfriend” song blasted in a van before the 10K race; a kazoo performance at the solstice baseball game; the sputter of a whale’s blowhole; the silence that can come over a van as we round the bend to find an unexpected, spectacular view.
            Alaska looks like great, expansive valleys fringed with mountains; a swarm of blue sweatshirts in the bleachers at the baseball game; the white cap of Mt. Denali viewed form the top of Mt. Healy; a far-off caribou and that bear that got a little too close; misty mountains and bays that send off shards of sunlight.
            Alaska feels like snow in Denali National Park and wind on the boat in Katchemak Bay; that hot shower you’ve been wanting for days; the burn in your thighs as you round the last curve up Exit Glacier; a warm sleeping bag on a chilly night; goodnight hugs shared with 72 people. 
            Alaska feels like surprise.  Alaska feels like opportunity.  Alaska feels like home. 

Final Reflections