Jasmine's Diary - Page 12Nov. 21 I am mentally tougher because of this experience. I realize more and more I want to live my life guilt free. Where I place value has changed as a result of this experience.
Bonfire during the day. Ptarmigan Day! Thanksgiving! "I’m just like the queen of Eng, I’m here for decoration" =) Joey Ankle is getting better. Writing in the journal is nearly impossible when you are covering even the interior of our tent is below freezing and my hands freeze up and are cold and clammy. My pen’s ink has frozen.
The little moments. I will miss the little moments. It is the little moments that count. Hawkins singing with a guitar. Eating cheesecake with fresh blueberry topping. Laughing with the Flower Lake crew and Hawkins gang. Drinking tea on Mount New Mexico overlooking the Chitina and Gibraltar and Homer Island. Singing "Time of your Life" by Green Day and forgetting the words. Today was the first hike I’ve taken since my sprained ankle seven days since I sprained. A bit ambitious to climb 1800+ ft. of elevation but I did. I hate to whine so I won’t. This climb ignited my nerves. I haven’t…in a year, coming to Alaska and challenging my self emotionally and physically.
River crossings allow us to get water. Ice shelf becomes more and more evident. An ice shelf we used to cross collapses shortly after we use it. We could have fallen in. It’s so windy the wind keeps us from getting a good nights rest.
Wake up to rain followed by sleet. We miserably wait an extra two hours for crew to pack up. We are wearing our rain gear when there is discussion of whether we should stay put or head out. We agree no one wants another night in the unpredictable Chitina River Valley. Visibility is limited. Tim takes a beating on his compass because I am worried about a white out. 55 degrees is a good thing because a white out comes quickly in all landmarks are lost in a cloud of fog. Using a compass we are able to navigate to a tree line miles away and sleep in the comfort of protected trees, water and melted snow are readily available. As Allan lights fire, Tim scopes out that another river crossing is in store for tomorrow. Indeed just past the tree line another one or two river crossings exist. After a cold night, we embrace the comfort of a tree line with plentiful firewood. We dry are frozen clothing by the fire. Our camping spot is nestled in the trees.
Long delay in the morning. Camera lens having issues, tape issues and batteries are dead. Paul lands plane at 10 a.m. to drop off food and resupply crew. So fun to be now rationing food and watch crew stuff them selves with bagels and cream cheese and unlimited junk food. I get cranky with a producer because we do not get to start till 11 a.m., when sunset is at 3 p.m. every minute counts. I get angry at myself for not taking into consideration the additional time necessary to do otf’s and delays. I reassess our food situation and realize we are going to be having a short stay at Hawkins if we don’t come up with alternative food sources. I bring up the issue and we agree we will have to hunt when we get to Hawkins. Our hike that day gets us near Hawkins. I want to continue an additional hour to and hour and a half. Though we are close to Hawkins Glacier, we are still one and a half hours from base to give us a full day on glacier. I am outvoted, so I decide to collect firewood. Though our camp fire and campsite are perfect and ideal, I worry we may be going a night without fire in the near future. I have been taping my ankle every morning, but my bunny boots that look more like moon boots are…beginning to take a toll on my feet. We begin to really look at the outdated map Paul gave us. It gives options, a five mile trek across a moraine or a 6 + mile trek of bush whacking. We hope the moraine will be more gentle on us than Bushwhackers, however it is a terrain none of us have experience with, each night we are forced to drink water and eat food full of ash because we cook everything on an open fire.
Oh my goodness, what have I signed up for? A hilly rock bed of gravel the size of boulders. An never ending view of rocks, hills and terrain is so brutal and foreign to me, I’m half expecting et to come down with each step is a level of uncertainty. Each rock is held to the next rock by a thin layer of frozen moisture as glue. One rock may be sturdy, the next might give way. Many of the rock piles have crevasses that could easily sprain or break an ankle or knee. The rocks are covered with a thin layer of snow preventing you from knowing what you are truly stepping on and we have mikes of it. This is by far the toughest hike I have ever come into contact with. By 2:30 p.m. we are trapped in the moraine. There are no trees nearby and the sun is setting in a ½ hour. We consider walking in the dark. With headlamps but it’s just too dangerous. We find a relatively flat area with a few but minimal boulders and set up camp. We have no way to melt water because we have no fire. We are forever to eat our dry food…we cannot heat up food. We are dehydrated and exhausted. It is a cold 8 degrees F out and windy. It is by far the most brutal night. Despite the rough circumstances, we laugh ourselves to sleep.
The crew is paying attention and is ready early. I am thankful. Day two of the moraine is another brutal day. We have begun to cut east directly toward the tree line. We bushwhacked some and then return back to the moraine. We now realize it will take another day to get to our destination. Prior to that realization, our dehydrated group has to make the decision of whether to turn back home and…another four to five days. The boys hear what they believe as voices and singing.
The biggest lesson I learned in the bush is I don’t want to grow up. I came out here making what my parents felt was "a rash decision." I promised to grow up after this experience. I thought growing up meant responsibility without fun, settling down. I don’t want to settle down in the way our society projects. I still want to have fun, having kids someday, own real estate, get stupid, get hurt, discover new music, fall in love. Twenties we are battling our maturity. If I were to do this experience again I’d leave by myself. I think I was born a grown up and had to work myself backwards. A life without boundaries. The twenties are for tasting life. Emancipate yourself from mental slavery… And you will arrive at solace and solitude. Biota: "Blame it on the Altitude" It is our imperfections that make us perfect. I have learned about adventure racing, extreme skiing, misunderstanding, bush planes, re, science, rock dimensions, weather movement A night time full of stars
Three days left till departure. I saw a sky full of shooting stars. I will miss the sky. Greg, Bernice, Tim and I saw the same shooting star tonight. Made a ridiculous number of pancakes for our upcoming journey. Our new group, the five of us, will be facing our last Alaskan adventure. Perhaps our memory is too short and we have forgotten the pain of the moraine. We have decided to walk down the glacier one last time. Paul Claus will pick us up in his bush plane, the other one last time and take us to the Chitina airstrip. This departure is bitter sweet. We haven’t even left yet and I already miss the solace of Alaska. I wonder if when I return to San Diego if the population will send me back to solitude, it’s ironic that the same wonder I had about the awe and awesomeness of Alaska, I now have of home. The same giddy excitement I had to explore the Alaskan interior, I am now giddy for the luxuries I have at home. The gifts of these luxuries are bittersweet however. I know with each luxury such as a dishwasher, washing machine and a hot shower, I will be giving up an Alaskan luxury, a starry, starry night a long hike with no one but the mountains, solitude and solace. I’m scared of all the distractions "Home" others. Living free is what life is all about and with the material things that bombard our lives in the real world… do I really want to go back? Before I left to Alaska, I wrote down these goals: Alaska Goals: 1) Strong body and more importantly a stronger mind Dec. 5 Sitting on a window seat on a 737 commercial aircraft on a flight from Seattle to San Diego in the early morning of Dec. 5, the sounds overwhelm me. People overwhelm me. I find myself staring at people. People watching, curious about them and what their life adventure has been. Likewise, a passenger just looking at me for the first time probably comes up with a story to themselves of who/what I am. I doubt, even with their most creative imagination they can see the "bush" in me or imagine a world where I just lived. When we fly over mountains and rivers of the Oregon coast they seem more familiar than the city grids of homes, schools, offices, and highways. A part of my body screams take me back, the other half is thankful for this warm, well above freezing temperature seat. I feel my hands are beginning to thaw out. I suppose over the next few days I will be thawing out and growing comfortable with society again. But there will always be a part of the bush girl in me that will never be thawed away. And if it comes close to being that way, I know I will have to travel. Travel back to the bush and refreeze that part. That part that had me prancing through forests chasing rabbits, bush whacking in the snow… Yes, the military young man besides me has no idea of my adventures. I have just woken after a needed rest. I hadn’t slept in more than 48 hours. We fly over Los Angeles. I can see the braids of roads and I remember that less than 24 hours ago, I was flying over the river braids of the Chitina, buffalo, moose and frozen earth. At last the long waited view I have been waiting for…the Pacific Ocean. Its vastness and crashing waves tell me I am to be home soon. The man who checked my baggage told me to sit on the left side of the plane so I could have the best view and I am thankful. I have so much gratitude for my life and the opportunities I have been given. I feel as if I am going to burst. As we fly over the five freeway heading to downtown San Diego, I recall the first cell phone call I made. It was to my parents and sound was so strange. It took me a little bit to even remember how to use my phone. Yes, I find myself more familiar with the mountains and the ridges… the lower 48 hasn’t changed. The only thing that has changed is me. As we fly over the ridges, I had forgotten that was mountainous too, in their small way and I tell myself I can climb that ridge, that hill, look there is no bushwhacking or moraine to even deal with, I make myself before we land I won’t let myself thaw out completely. Every car flies by so fast and people are rushing everywhere.
It’s been more than three months since my return to the real world. My first impression of my return was the noise and chaos. My gregarious nature at first wanted to socialize and after the first few days of catching up, I felt I wanted to go into hiding. My family had a party on the Wednesday I returned though I was not scheduled to be in the office for another two weeks, my boss asked me to start Monday and my guilt of leaving for three months said yes. Four days after my return from no cell phones, no electricity, no running water, I was running a business again with two cell phones, a landline, faxes, emails. After just three days I thought I was going to have a panic attack, I felt lost, overwhelmed, I just wanted to curl in bed or go for a hike. When I would go for a hike, I would get annoyed by the fact that I had to stay on a trail and worst of all that there are others on my trail! Hiking usually made me feel so free and now I felt trapped by rules of the trail. Two weeks after my return, I left to Oregon in hopes to rebalance and recenter. I returned to San Diego refreshed. I realized I had not given myself a transformation back to the real world. A fatal mistake. It scares me how easily I readjusted to hot showers, electricity, etc… and yet Donna is right. I do feel out of place. I don’t like going to bars, not that I ever did…but now after a ½ hr. of saying hi to friends I want to leave. I’m very lucky that my friends and family are pretty understanding. My brother and I are planning a trip to the Appalachian trails in the spring and I’m camping in Santa Barbara next weekend with Kimmy. I think that there is a part of us that wants to escape our lives for another life, even just for a few months. I know that answers do not come from leaving. I can’t run away forever. I need to just be, be what I want to be. No matter where you are there will be struggle. The salty and the sweet adds flavor. And my life tastes good. Thank you for the experience and adding another great chapter to my life. |
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