A Brief Detour-- Kodiak Alaska

Spoiler Alert: I don't want to go back to the lower 48.

For anyone who wasn't already aware, Alaska has been my #1 Bucket List destination since I was 11 years old.

There I was, daydreaming in my 5th grade class circa 1981, through a geography lesson that pointed out that Alaska-- often forgotten way up there in the far corner of the map-- was rich in a wider variety of natural resources than any of the other states. (True? IDK, it was 1981. I was 11. That's what the teacher and the text book claimed.)

11 year old Maggie put some variables that involved this newly acquired natural resources information together with land mass, and population density (or lack thereof,) and came up with the rather obvious answer that Alaska was the best place in all of the USA to be.

However, I was 11. I had a ways to go before I would get the opportunity to venture toward the 66th parallel. 

Long, drawn-out, overly descriptive story cut way down...life happened and it would be 40 more years before I stepped off a plane and touched the 49th state for the first time.

The Bestie of 34 years chose the medical field for her profession and she is currently doing the traveling thing...when she asked if I'd be interested in accompanying her to an assignment in Kodiak, there was no way I was passing up the opportunity!

Even though it's "just" Kodiak. 

And when I say "just Kodiak" I mean that I am stuck in a very small town on an island without a vehicle-- but Alaksa is a very big state. 

The up side is that we arrived in Kodiak on a February afternoon in downright balmy 30 degree (Farenheit) temps and snow...whereas the girl who'd been sitting on the plane with us to Anchorage was headed to Fairbanks-- where it was 30 below.

Kodiak is sorta-- intro to Alaska.

They do have extraordinarily large bears here. We are hoping to see one before we leave-- from a very safe distance. 

I knew a few things before I got here: Where it is. It's an island. It has giant bears. It's not as cold as Fairbanks-- or what most people in the lower 48 think of as "Alaska" weather. Groceries would be astronomically expensive-- especially fresh produce (I was still not prepared.) The Alaskan Marine Highway (the ferry) is not currently running (but I don't know if that's because of the season or because of the pandemic?)  I would be stuck on an island without a car for 2 months. (The BFF has a rental car provided by the hospital, but I am not authorized to drive it.) And...the aurora borealis is only sometimes visible, from the right spot. 

I was not prepared for the swarms of Bald Eagles. Yes, I said "swarms." Because maybe the correct word is "flock," or "convocation," or "congregation," but when you see this many in the same place at the same time I guarantee the first thing you think is "HOLY SHIT! WOW! WHERE'S MY CAMERA?!" 

The next thing you think is, "Those are really big birds." 

Then you think, "...and that's a lot of them..."

Then you get introduced first hand to the brutally uncensored National Geographic version of what raptor means and you realize, "those are really big birds, and that's a lot of them..." and then you think you hear Alfred Hitchcock's voice in the background and the woman who just walked past you looks suspiciously like Tippi Hedren and suddenly the sight is a whole lot less majestic and way more "The Birds" and believe me, the word is "swarm."

Kodiak is insanely beautiful in every way that you think of when you think of Alaska. There are harbors full of fishing boats and mountains that look like they were cut by glaciers just yesterday. We've had wind storms with gusts to 70mph and I'm pretty sure I caught sight of a whale from the front porch the other day. (No. It wasn't in the parking lot, we have a beautiful view of the ocean.)

And there are bush planes.

Single engine planes are to me what fast cars and motorcycles are to other women. If they have pontoons instead of wheels, I'm pure swoon. I have yet to get a picture of the float planes flying by on their rounds because I run outside to watch them instead of thinking to grab the camera. 

We managed to catch a dim glimpse of the aurora one evening from Mills Bay. Not strong enough to show on the cell phone camera and, naturally, it had been an impromptu detour on a night I didn't have the big camera along for the ride.

There have been a few other nights when the aurora index was high and the path the lights travel in dipped low enough to include Kodiak. Alas, those nights haven't cooperated with Bestie's work schedule and/or the weather, but we have another month to go so we're holding out hope.

What I do know is that the more chances I have to stand on our little front balcony with a hot cup of coffee in my hands, watching the ocean and the occassional small plane overhead, the more I notice I don't mind doing it in my bare feet and the more I get used to watching the changing moods of the sea and the backdrop of mountains beyond. 

I'm missing my little trailer that's waiting patiently back home for me to finish converting it to a tiny home and I'm missing my SUV that's waiting to haul that trailer on many adventures. I'm excited for vaccines to make their way around the world and for the promising signs that travel will reopen and life will find normalcy again for most of us. 

I'm hoping to make it to the badlands of South Dakota this summer and I'm eager to see fields of sunflowers being commercially grown. 

But I was right. It's tough to "visit" Alaska-- I don't want to leave. I just want to see more of it.