“There ain’t no barbed wire up here, and it was made for me.” - Rich Corraza, Alaskan We had just come down from a four-hour, round-trip hike to Ptarmigan Lake in the Kenai Range of Southern Alaska. The total altitude gain was a bit under 800 feet, according to the digital maps on our watches, though the trail was rolling, muddy, and rocky rugged for the uninitiated. The accumulated elevation felt like twice that in my legs and lungs, though I was ill-prepared and wearing shoes designed for shuffling through airports and convenience stores. Alaska rarely forgives such alacrity, but I got away with it.
Such masterful storytelling, Jim! I admire your gift for description of the physical beauty around you.
Wonderful story Jim. I'm sending this to a former tv producer, now school teacher friend who is moving to Alaska this summer.
I'd be checking the beaches of Hawaii if I were smart. My mother made my father move from Colorado to Texas because she was sick of the cold and snow. And as far as running a marathon at that age goes, some people are just God blessed. Life has taken my feet from me at 65. The restroom is the only place I run anymore.
Anyways, is it possible he just got tired of his Alaskan life and figured out a way to get away? Aloha y'all!
Though I'm pleased when you regularly scour the idiot politicians, the respite of Alaska is most worthwhile. I can see why you put down your wire brush and went.