Nate and I have been wildly addicted to the reality show Naked and Afraid. But after months of
hearing his repeated, and a bit TOO dramatic if you ask me, protestations of
“NO, I do not think you would be good on that show even if it was just called Afraid,” I set out to prove him wrong on
our trip to Alaska. I mean, come on. Me? I'M not a valuable resource in a survivalist situation? Ok, former Army guy....like Simply Red once said, "If you don't know me by now...."
1.
I’m
strong. I can snap a grown man’s neck with my calves alone.
2.
I keep a cool head in the face of pandemonium
(until I’m pushed so far that the fists
of fury come out).
Enjoy this sideways photo of me. I can't figure out how to make it go the right way.
3.
Due to my body’s inability to metabolize fat in
an efficient way, I have multiple layers of insulation to keep me warm in
extreme cold.
4.
Due to my body’s inability to metabolize fat in
an efficient way, my multiple layers of insulation could feed a whole village
for months if they were into that sort of thing. How’s that for teamwork?
Let’s just skip over some of the other small things that require a bit more practice on my end…like starting a fire, hunting for food, pooping in a hole, etc.
Anyway, while packing for our trip, I started fantasizing
about the millions of ways I could prove I was an outdoorsy person ready to
take on the Alaskan frontier (on the days we weren’t on the cruise ship, of
course). Hiking Denali, getting a bald eagle to land on my shoulder, kickin’ it
with orcas, sledding with dogs (actually did this one), communing with bears,
to name a few.
The opportunity to show my true grit presented itself in
Skagway. At my insistence, we stopped by the National Park Service office to
pick up a trail map for a grand hiking adventure. After determining that “Lower
Lake” didn’t look that far away, and
that we had enough time to complete the hike before a train ride up the White
Pass, I led the charge.
5 minutes into the hike up the mountain to get to Lower
Lake, I started questioning the validity of the map. Why in the hell was it called
Lower when we were upward bound? 10
minutes in I started projecting hateful thoughts towards whoever made hiking a
thing. 15 minutes in I started texting
my athlete buddy Mai Dang who advised me to pretend I was hunting hobbits (that
actually helped quite a bit).
Frodo? More like FroNO
20 minutes in and Nate gets the first of many “I
need some ALONE TIME, just go on without me” speeches. He refused each time,
saying I wasn’t about to blame him were I to be attacked by a bear.
I hate everything
25 minutes in and I’m sweating the 50 degree
weather and starting to rip off my clothes (I’ll show you naked and NOT afraid,
just really mad). 30 minutes in and suddenly an 80 year old couple with boundless
energy jogs by wearing matching knee braces.
“You’re almost there, see you at the top!” they yell.
WAT
A burning ball of first world problem shame formed in my chest and propelled me to
speed walk the final 10 minutes to Lower Lake. I made it hangry and exhausted and declared myself
the winner of the world. All hail the conquering zero.
Ok, so I’m not going to be on Naked and Afraid any time
soon.
Anyway, Alaska is truly beautiful – it’s like walking into a
postcard everywhere you look.
One night we saw the Northern Lights and it was everything
and nothing like I expected. It was the closest thing I’ve ever seen to a spirit – the way the green, pink, and purple lights danced and shimmered - it was as if they were playing with us. I reached out hoping…just hoping to capture the
light in my fingertips for a few moments…praying to catch even just a glimpse of
her. Of Ligaya.
Ligaya. We’re getting into the tough months now. It will be
three years on October 14th. Wow – three years. That seems like both a long time
and no time at all to me. Last weekend when we were out and about in an
entirely different frontier called Fashion Island, there was a brief moment
when an incredibly heavy sadness sunk in. Suddenly, a little boy walked over and
stood before me babbling to himself. The printed message on his t-shirt was bold
and bright and said this: The Best is Yet to Come. Almost an hour later I saw
the smallest hint of a rainbow in the sky.
A “rainbow baby” is a baby
that is born following a miscarriage, stillbirth, neonatal death or infant
loss. In the real world, a beautiful and bright rainbow follows a storm
and gives hope of things getting better. The rainbow is more appreciated
having just experienced the storm in comparison.
There was a certain stillness I found in Alaska – in my surroundings
and in myself. A quiet I needed to revisit in order to prepare myself for the month
to come. October is always hard, but I’ll survive it as I always do….neither naked nor afraid.
Side note: I’ve not talked about the wedding yet because even
though it was 3 months ago, this bright and shiny day is housed in a part of my brain I’m not ready
to poke at just yet. I want to keep it
there for now until I really need the lift.
