Wayne Price is having a really big week. Two traditional Tlingit canoes that he supervised the construction of have successfully paddled to Celebration, the annual gathering of Southeast Natives in Juneau. That's no easy coast down the 90 mile Lynn Canal, North America's largest fjord, and a place known for some rough weather.
I'm riding my bike today with a friend on one last long ride before the Kluane to Chilkat on the 21st. I find rest is good for me, and that I tend to overdo things-- so today-- 10 days out, is a good one for a five hour ride. Plus it is cool, not too windy, and dry-ish. I don't think it will rain. I took a vitamin already. It's the kind for active seniors. Really. I paused when I bought them yesterday. The label said for active people over 50, well, my little sister is 52 today. Yesterday I had two of my four grandchildren over for the day, and will again tomorrow.
"I don't care how many angels can dance on the head of a pin. It's enough to know that for some people they exist, and that they dance." -- Poet Mary Oliver
This morning at 4:30 Jess and Kevin paddled a yellow canoe to our backyard from an overnight adventure across the inlet. Chip went out and helped them carry the canoe up to the driveway. This is what they don't tell you about midnight sun: it's the mornings that are really extra long, and make the days so much richer. Waking that early seems natural when the sun is up and the water is still and there is dew on the beach roses.
Chip is stretching on the living room floor, pre-bike, and Pearl is snoring up on our bed. (As soon as we leave it, she hops on and stays there until we return from our morning bike ride.) And I want to remind you that there will be a gala ribbon cutting for the newest version of the Port Chilkoot Dock today at 11, and the women's choir is singing our hit, Ferryboat Serenade (with thanks to the Andrew Sisters).
The earthquake was at 3:58 AM 49 miles west of Haines, just over the mountains from my house, toward Yakutat. I suppose on a clear morning I could almost see it from here. It woke me up with a jolt, and as soon as the rolling quit I checked to see if there were tsunami warnings or if it had been really bad somewhere else and we were feeling the leftovers.
It's a rainy morning, which means a day off from the cycling. I mean, why ride in the rain when you don't have to? We've had so many nice days this spring that a little rain is a relief. It's a good day to finish the obituary of my friend Glenn, he lived in Juneau, but we knew him well from running. Glenn looked a little Paul Newman, and he was a wise guy-- you could never tell if he was kidding or not-- and he was a super athlete. Really super. He ran (and won) marathons for forty years-- the last one when he was 73.
"For today, each moment is prickly with detail and can only be made sensible by love."- John Straley from the poem "The Map and Territory of Love."
I am using an iPad, and the wi - fi is sketchy and I can only read about ten lines at a time in my text -- so please forgive me any errors and if you repost, maybe you will fix them for me? ... Oh I am such a Luddite.
Yesterday morning by 7 I had already pedaled my bike up to the White Pass summit and back down to Skagway. This morning I'm drinking coffee in bed. I only tell you about my ride to brag. I'm shameless, and perhaps a little crazy. But I have had a goal since I nearly died of hypothermia last year in the rain and snow on the same ride in the same week in May - I probably didn't share that epic dumb move. That day, I knew the way up would be warm, with the huge hill to climb for an hour or two, and traveled light. I didn't think about the chilling descent at all.