There’s something mystical about coming home, no matter where it might be. In this case, as I arrived back in my home state I drove along the Blackfoot River, the one Norman Maclean paid homage to in his book. As I drove along I learned of Robert Redford’s passing , so I stopped to pay a silent thanks for creating one of my favorite movies and for getting the heart of Montana right.
The best line in the movie: “The world is full of bastards, the number increasing rapidly the further one gets from Missoula, Montana.”
I haven’t posted on my blog for a long, long time, because…well…life. After this summer of working in Alaska and telling my stories to the guests on the tours I led, several of them asked if I had a website to record all my tales and travels. To be honest, I couldn’t even remember how to get to my blog. I started posting again while the pandemic had us confined at home, but then my husband’s health took a dramatic turn for the worse and nothing else in my life was important enough to demand my attention. After nearly three years of declining health, we lost him last winter.
My therapy through the last several months has been to immerse myself in work. It’s hard to be sad when you have a group of travelers excited about being in Alaska and laughing at your stories. And…whales. And puffins. And bears. I still have my moments-I probably always will. But the best thing I can do is to get back to doing what I love while working on remembering all the joy we shared.
I have some Alaska stuff to post-this was an exciting summer. And I’m embarking on a solo trip “down under” next month, first to visit a friend from Alaska and to attend her wedding in Australia. And since I’m flying 15 hours to get there, well, New Zealand of course. I imagine there will be a lot to talk about. This is a a daunting trip: six flights, five train trips, two rental cars, and a ferry. And while I’ve done a lot of solo travel thanks to a career in sales, this is the first time my cheerleader won’t be at home supporting me. I’m either adventurous or nuts. We’ll see.
Why spend all that money when you can see it all on a screen?
An article about travel in Alaska caught my eye yesterday, so of course I had to read it. I wanted to see how accurate it was, and to be transported to one of my favorite places in the world.
In reading some of the comments at the end, I came across one that said he had seen Alaska in a documentary on TV so he didn’t need to spend the money to go there. It brought to mind the old truism: “You get what you pay for.”
Anyone who has been to Alaska can verify that it’s impossible to get the feeling of vastness, majesty, beauty, and the wilderness unless you experience it firsthand. When you see Denali on a clear day there is a feeling of awe. When you watch a grizzly gorging on berries and ignoring the bus full of people just a few yards away, it’s exciting. If you have to stop in the middle of a city freeway to allow a moose to wander across, there’s delight.
So many events I’ve experienced in my travels can only happen when you are really there.
In Chile I went to a penguin nesting island and was told to stay on the path and not attempt to touch the penguins. Of course, no one told the penguins the rules, and one of them came up and started chewing on my shoelaces.
During a whale watching expedition in Maui a Humpback came to our raft and surfaced just inches from the side, so close I could have touched it (I didn’t.)
In Abu Dhabi, I watched the sun go down, reflecting off the buildings and the water, and heard the call to prayer reflecting across the quieting city.
In Rome, I walked a street used by merchants and shoppers two thousand years before the birth of Christ.
In Montreux, Switzerland, I explored a castle that has stood for a thousand years.
Then we walked into town and came across a statue that looked just like Freddie Mercury (it was him-it turns out he lived there.)
In Dubai, a trip to the spice souk (market) was a joy of sensory overload. The colors of the spices, the lovely smells, the noise of the merchants and buyers, all combined to create an indelible memory.
The most memorable part of my travels, however, is the people I’ve met. People all over the world are, for the most part, kind and welcoming and interesting and funny. Of course the tour guides are like that, but I also like to connect with the people I come across in my travels.
The nice gent at a local craft fair in the Outer Hebrides islands of Scotland, who was selling Harris tweed. He explained that he and his daughter did the weaving themselves, and gave me a lesson in the history of the cloth.
The young man at a market in Peru who was selling watercolors, and shyly told me that he was going to school to be an artist, and that the watercolors were his work.
The waiter in a restaurant in Rome who told us he had lived in Queens in New York, which was why his English was so good. He said his job at the restaurant was to get us drunk. He was good at his job.
The priest I met on a water taxi in Venice who was assigned to work on a refugee plan in Syria. He told me about the country and the people, and how highly he regarded them.
Getting out of your own locale, being open to new places and experiences, connecting with other humans; those are the events that bring us closer and help make the world a better place. Not everyone we meet can speak our language, but they have families, people they love, dreams for the future, and the ability to laugh. And I have always been able to communicate with a person in some way, regardless of their language.
Since I decided to start blogging again, I started to think about the stories I plan to tell. So: Pay Attention Please!
I tell different types of stories. There are stories, memories, and musings. All my stories are based in fact. However, they are created to entertain. When I told stories to my tour guests, I usually ended with the statement: “This story is true. Mostly.” So my stories will be true. Mostly.
When I relate a memory, it is as true as my flawed memory will allow. Have you ever returned to a place that was smaller than you remembered, or come across an old flame who is less enticing than your memories of them? Events end up getting filed into our memories, and then they get dusted with the fairy dust of years and come out again somewhat changed. So forgive me if I report something that might be a bit off.
As far as musings are concerned, those are just the weird crap that pops into my mind. I usually tell those to the mirror as I’m getting ready for the day, but now I’ll put some of them down here.
I just took a look at the site I started to share my travel stories, and…Holy Mackerel! I haven’t posted a thing in EIGHT YEARS. I have all the excuses ready: We sold our house and moved home to Montana. I continued to work in Alaska during the summer. We traveled. A lot. Then my loving spouse had heart surgery, and by the time they let him come home …Covid!
Despite all the excuses, in the end I just didn’t keep up with it.
Last week I was reading a story about telling stories, and realized how much I miss it. You see, for the last three summers I worked in Alaska, I was a Tour Director. I led up to 50 guests at a time on multi-day tours through Alaska and the Yukon-and I loved it! I had a captive audience, a microphone, and lots of time to tell stories. My guests loved it too (well, most of them), and the one comment I heard over and over again was how much they enjoyed my stories. I miss telling stories. And until our world of travel gets back to normal, this blog is the only way of telling those stories.
So I’m going to start again. This started off as a travel blog, but I think I’m going to morph it into a “stories about anything” blog. Some of the stories I told as a Tour Director are linked to specific places – it’s interesting to try timing a story so the punch line comes just as the subject of the story arrives in the window of our motor coach. I’m hoping I’ll be able to tell the stories along with descriptions of the places.
I also have a lot of years behind me, filled with adventures. I’ve lived in Alaska and Montana, but also California, New York, New Jersey, Arizona, and Washington. I’ve had at least four careers, not to mention random jobs. I’ve traveled to 37 countries, which is pretty good considering that just nine years ago the sum total of my international travel was Canada and Mexico. I’ve lived through natural disasters, and seen things that make me go, “Wow!”
I’ve learned through experience that sometimes life changes while you’re making other plans. On Monday morning, while we were all getting ready for a new work week, one of my friends and coworkers had a stroke just before she was to start her shift. Wendy works in the King Salmon, our fine dining restaurant. Her husband Roy is a driver-guide. Both have been coming here for several years and they are well-known and well liked throughout our little community. Last year Wendy brought coffee our office every day, and when she learned that one of our team members didn’t drink coffee she brought him milk. Both Wendy and Roy are known for their enthusiasm and kind spirits.
So it was a shock to hear that Wendy was being airlifted to Anchorage with Roy at her side. The next realization was that they are thousands of miles away from family, and without health insurance.
That’s when the most amazing thing happened. From all sides, people were asking “Are we doing something to help them?” This came from the newest, youngest members of our team to the top management. We put together a collection, and by the end of the week we were able to deliver over $2300 to our friends to help with their expenses. Princess and the Denali management arranged for our Care Team to look in on them and help in any way we could. I went to Anchorage over the weekend with my friend Diane to offer our assistance and to deliver the many greetings we had received by setting up a table in our employee dining area and providing paper and markers to create cards for them.
While Wendy faces some challenges, we were delighted to see that she had her sense of humor intact. I came away with a couple of reminders. One is that we are strong in the face of adversity and can find ways to cope. The other is that people can be wonderful. We received donations from people who knew Wendy only by hearing about her. We received donations from international students who come here to work and save for their next year of school back home-some working two jobs to make the most of their time here. We found some $100 bills in the donations from people who did not want to tell us who they were. And the outpouring of support and concern has been wonderful…not only for Wendy and Roy, but for all of us who care about them.
So this week…no bears, no moose, no adventures. But the warmth of good people helping others made it a good week.
Last summer’s trip to Yellowstone and Glacier prompted me to think about seasonal jobs. Remembering a conversation with an employee in Denali Park a few years ago, I decided to apply. So today I sit in Anchorage, getting ready to leave for Denali. This will be the record of my summer adventure.
First, it isn’t summer here. I left Phoenix three days ago after a couple of 100 degree days, and arrived here to mid-50s. Although I spent a lot of my childhood in Anchorage and graduated from high school here, I find the city barely recognizable. Controlled-access roads where there used to be gravel trails. Hotels where I used to live. And my favorite bar, which started out in the late 60s as a log cabin with soft chairs and a fireplace, is now a two-story giant sports bar.
Some things don’t change, though. Heading out to pick up some items from the store yesterday, I first encountered hills that seemed out of place. Turned out they are the leftover snow from winter that got dumped there after they cleared the roads. It had to go somewhere, you know. And on the way back to the hotel, traffic slowed to a crawl to allow a moose to cross the road.
And the light. It’s different here than in the desert. Most of the time since I arrived it’s been overcast, which I remember to be a pretty common state of affairs. But then late in the day, as the sun gets lower, it peeks under the clouds and hits the mountains. Anchorage is surrounded by mountains, still covered with snow at this time of the year. They light up and glow with the sunset, blue and white and jagged against the sky. It brings so many memories of my younger years, when the mountains were the backdrop to my life.
Travels with Billie 