The 49th Estate

I returned to my birth state of Alaska in late July — the timing was driven by my 35th high school reunion, but the purpose was to show Kim a few highlights and experience where I grew up — or maybe more accurately, where I left when I was 18.

[Okay, author’s note — we are back home in Yamba, NSW, Australia. Medium’s apps on the iPad and phone are so bad I refused to post blogs anymore until we got home. About six more blogs will come your way in the next couple of weeks.]

I returned to Alaska with a little bit of trepidation. Kim had done such an amazing job of showing me the gorgeous mountains in Colorado, that I worried she’d leave with a less than perfect picture of Alaska, given we weren’t going to see Denali, Katmai, or stray much from the Anchorage to the Kenai Peninsula region.

We’re told not to approach the wildlife, but Kim became all too friendly with the bears

A Tale of Two Turnagain Arms

The last time I had been to Alaska was my 30th high school reunion, and I spent a solid week exploring day hikes along Turnagain Arm from a 3-star apartment in South Anchorage. I decided to take Kim to two of the all-stars of that week, a hike up Bird Ridge and the ascent of Crow Pass from Girdwood. Given that Kim seemed concerned that I yelled out “Hey Bear!” during our hikes I decided to avoid Falls Creek Trail.

The forecast for the week predicted clouds and rain — Alaska was not helping me show off to Kim! But for our Bird Ridge hike, the clouds scattered and we had brilliant blue skies, and the trail all to ourselves save one couple who we crossed on our descent.

Does BJR think he’s the first person ever to climb Bird Ridge?

At the top I had my “Alaska moment,” which happens each time I return home, and I say to myself, “I had forgotten how beautiful Alaska is.” It really is stunning: the way the mountains climb straight from the ocean, crafted by a melee of tectonic plates, volcanic explosions, and glacial erosion.

Once a Mustang, Always a Mustang

I think 35th reunions are an anomaly. Most high schools from my small data sample do 10th, 20th, 30th and maybe throw in a 25th year reunion, but our class has done 10th, 20th, 25th, 30th, and now a 35th year reunion. The attendees are largely the same, a small core of about 30–50 out of our class of 300.

Chugiak High School Class of 1989. Or at least 30 of the 300 who graduated and were free on a Friday night.

I left high school feeling like I had never fit in, and entered a university that I felt had been tailored just for me. That’s not a completely unique notion. So returning to my high school often feels like putting back on a pair of your favourite shoes that never quite fit.

Kim makes her way up to the top of Baldy. I used to scramble up this a number of times every summer, and just like in the past, I got lost coming back down the other side.

My high school friends are great people. I’m incredibly proud to call them my friends and I’m amazed by so many things in their lives. I never felt like I had character or a moral compass in high school; I was largely ruled by impulse and insecurity, acting more to protect myself and do everything I could to get to the next step (college). Many of my friends who stayed in Alaska are truly Alaskans, taking advantage of the amazing place they live, but facing the same developed world challenges of work, health and how to get your #@$% kids to put down their phone for one minute.

The Saturday afternoon BBQ for the Class of 1989. Amazingly there’s a lot of black and blue (our school colors) though I think that was totally unplanned. Heather, yellow? WTF.

Kim’s patience during my reunion was phenomenal. She attended three different events with largely the same people, and never complained once. We did get in a swim at my high school pool, which surprisingly has taken down the statue of me that was there for years, with the inscription, “Never did one achieve so little with so little muscle or effort.”

Seward

In my teenage years, I did not like Seward. Then again, I did not like any time I had to spend with my parents, especially if it involved a long car ride. I wish I could claim that I would have done something better with my time, but I probably would have spent it on my computer. My dad and I would drive to Ninilchik, where my less-than-friendly Uncle Ace lived, and we’d go halibut fishing. I had had enough fishing by the time I was nine. My father was obsessed with fishing, and I didn’t need to see another fish for the rest of my life, but so many summer weekends of most of my teenage years, I found myself in the truck with dad, hauling a boat to catch halibut.

The back is the motor and the steering. The front is apparently for photography and harassing the motor and steering.

We never went to Seward to fish, and I can’t remember why we went — possibly to show family friends how beautiful it was. As an adult, I love Seward. I’ve done multiple kayaking trips into Aialik Bay, and all of Resurrection Bay is spectacular. Kim and I went kayaking, this time with a guide, near Fox Island. The other couple with us were not great paddlers, but we didn’t let that ruin our day (i.e. we left them way behind).

Ressurection Bay is named because if you died and fell in the water, it’s so cold you would instantly be brought back to life. Or maybe I just made that up.

So far, since leaving Australia, my two best outings have been in kayaks.

Homer

An otter shows off his back flutter kick in the waters outside of Homer, Alaska.

Our final chapter placed our lives in the very capable hands of my brother Stephen, who expertly navigated the quickly changing environs of the ocean around Homer, Alaska, and Kim caught her first fish (a halibut), which was then packaged and shipped to her mom for consumption.

2029…

My 40th reunion is five years away, and next time I think I’ll stick to the interior to show Kim a wilder part of the 49th state. I am incredibly proud of where I grew up, even if the common views on petroleum, guns, and the climate are lagging a bit behind where they need to be 🤷‍♂.