The tickets for our trip to Alaska were purchased months ago. I just didn't know that at this juncture in life how necesary it would be to point ourselves toward the Far North.
The daily onslaught of high temperatures has been killing us. Packing our bags it feels less like we are going on a two-week vacation than like we're prisoners busting out of a hot house jail.
Our plane takes off, bringing an immediate sense of relief. It's already like falling into a northern dream and we're not even there yet.
Between the fourth and fifth hour of a seven-hour flight I look out the window.
"I think that's Canada," someone in the row behind me says.
They say you can never get a good picture out an airplane window, but I snap another one anyway.
Everything is so large, white, amazing. Just what I want to see. Then, for a while, nothing but cloud cover. Until there comes a parting.
The rest of the way it's all mountains and glaciers.
We land in Anchorage. It's 7:30 p.m., the sun is shining, and it's nearly 50 F. degrees cooler than back home. The sun will not set until sometime after midnight.
We load up in an SUV and start driving south. We're headed to the Kenai Peninsula, the land of salmon. - V.W.
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