The Alaska Adventure: Happy Places

APPRECIATION. I don't know who to thank: the Weather Gods or human carbon emissions. In a selfish effort to remain carefree for the summer, I will ignore the source and simply share that Alaska has been experiencing record temperature highs and clear skies. In fact, I'm not entirely sure if Dan and Chelsea appreciated the incredible heat and sunshine they experienced on their recent trip to these often frigid and damp lands. To compare, J recalls his childhood road trip to Denali from New Hampshire when his family camped at Wonder Lake for several weeks without ever seeing the mountain. Speaking of Wonder Lake, it had been frozen the week before we took our 90-degree-day dip. Alaskans are beside themselves with the giddy joy of shorts, bikinis and iced beverages. My joking vibe aside, I do truly believe that in order to appreciate and find happiness in the elements of your life, you need to be experiencing a broad spectrum. With our instant gratification society, that spectrum has shrunk quite a bit. Your favorite songs are loaded on your iPod, the grocery store has your favorite ripe fruit all year round, and a hot shower in the morning is par for the course. In Alaska, some of these norms are challenged and with beautiful results. There is no way my Californian friends (save for maybe those of you poor souls in the fog along the coast of Marin) can possibly derive as much pleasure from a simple hot sunny day as we do here after the prolonged snow and cold. I wish you could have all seen Indigo's exuberant reaction when she finally got to walk barefoot in grass this spring. Or noticed the first wildflower bloom. Or heard the first song bird. Some might say that's sad and perhaps we should be living somewhere warmer so she can play amongst grass and flowers all year round. But would she be mindful of it or appreciate it if she did?

Midnight tide pooling.

SUP in the harbor.

Unfortunately, not our boat.

The "High One."

Denali sled dogs.

J started riding at 4AM to bike the whole Denali Park Road.

Pleased as punch.

So is she!

Proof from Ice Cream Newton.

HAPPY PLACES. I discovered my first "happy place" back in college during a plant biochemistry fellowship (Tee hee - you knew I was a science nerd but that sounds extra fancy, hmm?) in eastern Washington state. After a week of working in the lab, I would run the two miles out of town to the airport and take skydiving lessons from my friend Pat. The best story to come from this involved me attempting to do one last dive the morning of my flight back to New Hampshire. We got permission from the airport to let me land there, James Bond-style, and wave adieu to my friends before hopping on my big plane back home. As it turns out, a Bond girl I am not. My hands got too cold in the early morning air, I had a hard time pulling my cord, I made a disastrous landing in a field miles from the airport, I got a piece of wheat lodged in my ear, I scared the begeezits out of Pat and my friends, and I absolutely missed my flight back home. The parents were none too pleased. Anyway, after each drop, we would stretch our parachutes out on the grass and lay on them to push the air out and prepare for repacking. Pat believed that every diver, no matter how much of a newbie, should pack their own chute so they had a sense of ownership over their own safety. The colorful ripstop nylon was warm in the sun and I absolutely loved that moment when I first flopped onto the ground, the fabric billowing, my blood still rushing, and let out a sigh of joy. What makes this a happy place is the fact that I can still conjure this exact feeling years later. The imagery, the sounds, the texture, the balance of exhilaration post-dive and the comfort of earth and warmth and success. In fact, when J and I were preparing to have Indigo, I used this parachute memory during labor practice and her birth as a way to be calm and focused.

Over the years I've only found a few more true happy places... on top of a mountain in Thailand with J... on a dock in New Hampshire with my brother and Dad...

A few days ago, Team Leslie and Grammie Suzan took off on a grand venture across Katchemak Bay south of Homer, Alaska. There, at our "Tent and Breakfast," we found a sweet little glassed-in gazebo decorated inside with pots of fresh flowers and colorful buoys hanging on ropes. After a glorious day of sea kayaking with the whole crew, I sat inside drinking a glass of white wine and watching the tide slip in, three eagles playing in the wind, and the sun slowly making its way across the summer sky. I think I have a new happy place.