Alaska

I did not dare to walk alone at night. Not because I was worried a person would attack me, but because I didn’t want to startle an unseen bear. I would sit on the edge of a forty foot cliff overlooking Auke Bay and watch the setting sun fall behind the Chilkat mountains. Wild Alaska was what I expected. The effect it had on me, however, I never could have predicted. My main purpose in moving to the Last Frontier for five months was to earn money for school as a seasonal worker. I was so ignorant when I made the decision to go. I thought I hated it at first. When I got there, it rained everyday for three weeks. I was cold and miserable. My body felt heavy and too much to carry out of bed. I despised how the mountains were covered in clouds all the time. I loathed the cawing ravens. If I wasn’t working, I stayed home. When I was working, I begrudgingly drove my coach bus full of passengers that came to see beautiful Alaska. They were just as disappointed as I was. I truly thought nothing could be worse.

And then the sun came out. I happened to be off work that day. I got up around 7:00am. Normally, I would just eat my cereal and return to bed. On this day, however, I could see the sun peeking through the curtains in my room. I couldn’t believe it! When I went outside, I was astounded. Was this the same place I had been living in for the past three weeks? It couldn’t be. The sky and mountains were so clear. The air felt crisp. The trees went from being dull to bright and luscious evergreens. The Gastineau Channel reflecting the sunlight was so shiny I had to squint to see it. Everything had changed. I could feel it. That day I drove as far as I could before the road ended, almost completely out of civilization. I stood on the beach, barefoot on the cool sand. I listened to the familiar coo of bald eagles and watched them fly overhead. I promised to never take another sunny day for granted.

It was sunny for almost three weeks straight. The temperate rainforest of Southeast Alaska was now in a serious drought. My bus passengers were no longer complaining because they couldn’t see the mountains. Instead they complained because my bus was too hot. I prayed for rain. I would point out bald eagles to distract the passengers from the heat of the bus. Occasionally, we would see a bear. That always made things much better. But I couldn’t take the sun anymore. My eyes hurt and felt strained, even though I wore sunglasses. Staring at the road for ten hours on a sunny day took its toll. I still enjoyed the sun on my days off, hiking, camping, and sometimes even jumping into the cold Pacific water, but for some reason I missed the rain. What was happening to me?

When it finally rained again, my perspective changed completely. Everything was beautiful now. The huge clouds enveloping the tips of the mountains gave the city a dramatic beauty that I somehow missed before. I suddenly loved the contrast of light gray cotton spilling over the dark green slopes. I was overjoyed that the magnificent evergreen trees were finally getting the water they needed. I wore all my best rain gear and embraced the wetness. I didn’t want to spend any time sulking inside. My new attitude about rain carried me through the workday. My passengers still found all sorts of things to complain about. Previously I would have agreed with them. This time, though, I realized, I understood something that they did not: it never rains forever.

For the rest of my life, I want to enjoy each moment, day, and season while it lasts. I am forever grateful to Alaska, the Last Frontier, for teaching me to love even the darkest, coldest, and rainiest of days.