We were flying what seemed only inches above 20,300-foot-high Mount McKinley, now more often called by its Athabaskan name—Denali. Below our six-seat Cessna was a glacier extending 36 miles from the great peak. The doors of the little plane were open so that a photographer swathed in gloves and sweaters could lean out and capture the scene. I tried not to think about the statistic I'd spotted that morning on a bulletin board, a tally of the year's climbing figures at Denali: "Missing/Fatalities: 4."It was a sparkling August morning—eight inches of snow had fallen four days before—and the snow line, after a chill and rainy summer, was already hundreds of feet lower than usual for this time of year.
~~ snip ~~
Alaska plays havoc with your senses and turns everyday logic on its head. It's the westernmost state of the Union, as well, of course, as the northernmost, but I was surprised to learn, the day I arrived, that it is also (because the Aleutian Islands are across the International Date Line) the easternmost. Alaska is more than twice the size of Texas, I had read, yet has fewer miles of highway than Vermont.
When faced with such facts, one reaches for bearings, for ways to steady oneself. Hours after I touched down, from California, I set my watch back an hour, walked the few small blocks of downtown Anchorage (ending abruptly at a great expanse of water) and realized I was surrounded by Canada, Russia and the Arctic. The unpeopledness and scale of things made me feel as if I had fallen off the edge of the earth, into an entirely otherworldly place like nothing I had ever seen (with the possible exception of Iceland or parts of Australia), with people sitting on benches in the weird gray light of 9:30 p.m.
I think the writer may have been writing a bit tongue-in-cheek - or else he's an effete East-coast liberal snob - but it's an interesting read. Check out the accompanying photo gallery here.
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It's 39 degrees and raining, with low, grey skies and falling temps. The designated guesser at AccuHunch thinks we'll get one to three inches of snow tonight. Sooner or later, they'll be right. This time of year in Alaska, snow is a foregone conclusion.
There's not much other news, locally, so y'all have a great evening. Thanks for stopping by.
4 comments:
Stopped reading Smithsonian and National Geographic when politics and false science jumped on board. After reading this authors few words here, it's a decision I'll not likely reverse soon.
Still, they do take good photos.
Sounds like your weather's about normal. Same here in north-central PA. Back in the low 50s during the day and upper 20s at night.
I also had a subscription to both magazines, and remember the stacks of National Geographic that my Grand Dad had dating from the 30s to the 60s. I also stopped reading both for the same reasons. I felt I could no longer believe anything they said once they compromised science to their leftist agenda.
PolyKahr
Rev. Paul it just all sounds and looks so pretty...it is on my bucket list...to get come see Alaska...maybe some day
As I was reading this I could just sense the east coast snob in his pen chiding the wilderness of the great northern expanses, belittling the remoteness, and begging for rescue from the isolation and calm of the cool land of the midnight sun...
I bet he is cozied up in his downtown apartment gleefully listening to the NYC traffic on the polluted streets below... and good riddance to him, too!
BTW... the snow made its way to Washington... 34 degrees at the water, snow in them thar hills!
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