The persons, places, and activities contained within this
account may or may not be loosely based on real experiences of the author and
names may have been changed to disguise parties who care about such things.
July ended with splash.
July 30th was a classic hot, humid New England summer
evening. I poured sweat in my shorts and
flip flops while I packed fleece, down, and wool into my bag. It was hard to focus and plan
appropriately. I scrounged through
drawers and bags I hadn’t been in for months.
Fortunately I keep a ski bag packed 365 days a year. I refuse to be the unprepared when a fluke
August snowfall provides turns in the Whites, or TGR calls me in as a last
minute replacement for Chile shoot.
There were lots of last minute things to do but one of them suddenly
seemed the most critical. So I hopped on
my bike, rode down the street, and jumped in the ocean. The tide was up to the wall so I walked
straight into the water off the third step.
As expected it was instantly cooling and instantly calming. I went home
cool and salty and the packing went easy.
 |
| Near Valdez |
July 31st and I was in Anchorage. Snow lingered in the surrounding peaks and
the heat lamps were on at the Millennium’s patio bar. JH and I watched float planes land on Lake
Hood while we slurped Alaskan IPAs. They
are always a treat but knowing that we were entering 10-30 days of “seahab”
made them that much sweeter. Months of
stressful planning were culminating in the coming days. But knowing that we were finally in motion
put us in our comfort zone. I knew it
wasn’t going to get dark so I didn’t wait.
I pulled the shades and that was it for July.
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