CHAPTER II.
INTERLUDE — LIFE IN ALASKA
A. Magnificent
Our calling keeps us busy. But we do have discretionary time. And with summer winding down as
we arrive, we’re eager to get out — a P-Day here and there — to explore this Northern Realm.
Folks back home have asked. Is Alaska as spectacular as they say? Better than our Utah? Better
than California? Hawaii? Is it the most beautiful place in America? In all the world?
Which is debatable, I suppose. Beauty in the eye of the beholder. But there's one thing about
Alaska no can deny. It's incredible size. And the ubiquity of world-class grandeur everywhere you
turn. (Except for downtown Anchorage maybe. Which tends to be a bit ghetto.) Unless you've
witnessed it, it's hard to imagine or begin to grasp. The mountains and rivers and forests and lakes.
High and low. Far and wide. It's one magnificent soul-stirring scene after the next. And ever more
magnificent, and more soul-stirring, the further you look. Untouched and unspoiled. You travel for
hundreds of miles, and you've only scratched the tiniest surface of the wide spaces empty of human
sign.
Here's Doll in two of the myriad postcard scenes on our JBER base alone:
Here are a few of the walks we've taken, right near the Arctic Valley Ward we often attend.
Here's my missionary companion at the Anchorage Botanical Garden. And at a wetland south of town.
Of course, Alaska scenery also means wildlife. A couple of the black bears seen from our car on
base:
Our second night in Alaska, we went for a walk in Russian Jack Park, a few blocks from our
apartment. On the trail we encountered a cow moose and with her calf. As these mothers, protective
of their young, are known to be dangerous, we quickly headed the other way. Here is a cow moose we
met driving on base. She too had a calf nearby:
There are said to be about 1,500 moose living within the Anchorage city limits. Here's a young bull
wandering up to a fence beside the road.
One Saturday we got out to Alyeska — the hotel and ski resort an hour from where we live. In the
words of Hemingway, it was fine.
Thought we’d give Alaska's famed fishing a try. So we joined a charter boat out of Seward. We
caught our share of salmon and rock fish. But the part we loved best was Alaska itself. The islands
jutting out of the sea. The waterfalls splashing from towering slopes. The touches of rain. In a world
of clouds and mystery.
Another day we visited the Matanuska Glacier. Which is 27 miles long, and 4 miles wide. The
largest glacier accessible by car in the United States. There’s something otherworldly about these
living creatures. These leviathans of snow and ice wandering through the lush green and gold of early
autumn.
Getting excited about the snow and ice, we ventured to the town of Whittier. And caught the
“26 Glacier Cruise” into the Prince William Sound. Sailing through fisheries with trawlers hauling in
their catch. Past sea lions sunning themselves upon islands of rock. And among those incredible
glaciers. Where witnessing close-hand the “calving” is truly the experience of a lifetime. At the
Harvard Glacier, for example. Which is 1.5 miles wide and 300 feet high. There’s that great crack of
thunder, like lightning exploding in your front yard. And these massive slabs of ice come tearing loose
from mother glacier. Crashing angrily into the sea. And sending forth waves to rock our boat.
So yes. The beauty is magnificent beyond describing. And it's not only the abundance of that
beauty. But how untrammeled. How pristine. Doll and I marvel to each other. Everything's so primal,
damp, and fresh. It makes no sense really. But we feel we’ve rolled back the millennia. In flying to
Alaska, we've passed through a time warp. Back to the very beginning. To the birth of the world. The
day God created it.
B. How’s the Weather?
So Doll and I were glad to escape the scorching desert in July — for the crisp and cool of this Great
Northwest. And actually, we both enjoy snowstorms and are excited for an Alaska winter. But then, as
they say, be careful what you ask. Because that winter is coming fast. And it may be more than we
bargained for. Consider these pictures taken on our way to District Meeting:
Nothing that unusual about these snowy photos. Except that this was the 21st of September. Which,
according to my weather app, was the last calendar day of summer.
Or consider these snows. Hitting our mountain tops on Paul's birthday. August 27th.
Or this hike in August. To Flattop Mountain overlooking Anchorage. In the sunshine, and shielded
from the wind, the day felt warm and pleasant. But among the shadows, rocks were covered with ice.
And the frigid winds reminded me of the days I ascended Everest.
A view of Anchorage, the Cook Inlet, and the Range beyond
Another view from Mount Flattop
When I was a kid, some TV ad had a silly line. “It’s not nice to fool with Mother Nature.” I can't
remember what they were selling, or what that line was supposed to mean. But I sense that it applies,
here and now, to me in Alaska. This is land of weather you don’t want to mess with -- or take lightly.
C. Falling in Love
Doll and I expect there may yet be travels and missions beyond this one. But we have retired and
settled in Ogden. As close to as much of our family as we can be. That is our home. And we foresee
zero chance of permanently moving somewhere else.
Even so. Like so many who come here. We have fallen in love with Alaska. And we find ourselves
slipping into daydreams. Building an alternate reality. We can't help ourselves -- we keep looking at
houses, locations, and prices. And talking as if we would buy and stay here forever.
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