Silver and Gold

SILVER. We have our first visitor! Gran (previously known as Mom, previously known as Deb Rogers) has arrived after three flights, one four hour delay, one missed connection, and an astounding twenty-eight hour travel day without sleep. To quote the weary traveler, "I could have gone to China and back in the time it took to get to Alaska!" Future visitors: Please don't be deterred! It is super cool here! You just have to make it. Here are some of Gran's first impressions:

• Huge taxidermied grizzly bears "decorating" all the airports.

• Pilot of 16 passenger flight to Kenai teaching everyone what to do if he became incapacitated (Anyone here a pilot?), and then using a flashlight to check that the edges of the door had  closed (Isn't there supposed to be a light-up button on a panel or something for that? Anyone here a pilot?).

• Eighty-two year old gal sitting next to Gran explaining that she had chartered a small plane to land on a beach to see bears, contingent on her being able to help the pilot push the plane around before taking off again (oh yeah, we Alaskans are a hearty bunch).

Also of note, Gran arrived with a silver whistle on a cord at the ready around her neck. I convinced her that the library preschool story time this morning should be a pretty safe and bear-free environment. The whistle is currently tucked in her pocket. On the flip side, Gran is much relieved to know that Alaska does not have any snakes (escaped pets aside). Bring on the bush-whackery!

GOLD. Last weekend we were doing some hiking and parked on a rough dirt road down by a little creek at the base of a mountain off the Sterling Highway. Turned out to be quite the hub. A crew of guys across a foot bridge were working on restoring an old cabin and building some yurts to be used by back country skiers in the winter (yes, J is pleased as punch). Then a bearded older man with a dog on a rope pulled his beater Subaru into the scene and let me know that this was his claim and he was out to get himself some more gold. Next, three kayakers appeared dragging their boats, asking if I was a miner. I said no, but that the man whose claim this was just headed over the bridge. They dropped their boats, yelled their thanks, and took off running after him. Did they need permission to put in at his site?  Should I have gotten his permission to be hiking here? Maybe there was a gold country etiquette that I had missed. Or maybe they were  planning on boating and doing a little gold panning? Alaskans do like to pack in the activities while the sun is shining. No. Apparently there was a ladder stretched across a lower portion of the creek as part of the miner's prospecting set-up: a deadly strainer for the boaters. Goodwill reigned and the boaters returned with assurance that the ladder had been removed. Coincidentally, with a bit of chatting we realized one of the boaters had a second home in Hood River and shared many common friends with us. With promises of passing along hellos, they suited up, popped on their spray skirts and headed into the whitewater down the valley. We headed into the fireweed and blueberries up the valley. 'Tis a small, golden world!

Small yellow sign officially marks the claim.

Blue gold.