The Last Frontier

If RP got a second chance at life, I'm somewhat positive he'd come back as Meriwether Lewis (although I'd like to think he'd change his given name).

In fact, in the two and a half years I've known him, it's become rather obvious that RP's primary goal in life is to one day be the subject of a Jon Krakauer biography, despite his penchant for dabbling around in real estate for 10 - 12 hours a day.

Nowhere was this more apparent that in the ends of the earth -- notably, the state of Alaska.

RP first solicited my partnership in the venture by baiting me with promises of spectacular sites, all-you-can-eat salmon and blueberries, and the guarantee that Sarah Palin was no longer in-state.

So, celebrating a freebie day off work and six full months of marriage, RP and I headed to the arctic, wherein our great adventure began.

Our four days in the 49th state were eventful. So eventful, in fact, that I only changed my clothes once (some might call that unhygienic, but those people have never been to Alaska).

Highlights of the Price Family Half-Anniversary Trip include:

• Finding out the "bed and breakfast" RP booked for our first night in Anchorage was really a hide-a-bed in an old den in the home of a Hungarian woman named Ilona. We might have slept well had it not been for the accusing stares of the multiple ceramic gnomes at home on her every shelf, or the tick-tocking of not one, not two (or three or four) but FIVE clocks marking the passing time in our room (can you say cookoo?)
  

• A morning spent atop a glacier (or as our Kiwi guide called it, a "glah - see - er"). I effectively learned how to hike wearing crampons and how not to fall into a crevasse, all while reassuring RP that no, he didn't need a guide and he could do all of this all by his big-boy self.

• Getting outfitted at Sportsman's Warehouse (and entering one for the first time) in wading boots and fishing gloves and joining RP in the river for a Alaskan fishing venture. Fish count officially remains: RP - 1/ KP - 1 (if you're counting the dying salmon I stuck my hook in by hand).

• Eating salmon, halibut, and caribou in Talkeetna (while silently praying said caribou hadn't once frequented the north pole or had the ability to fly).

• A backpacking trip up to Crow's Pass, where I made RP sing Christmas carols to ward away bears (everyone knows they're godless marauding killing machines), and surviving a night and two days on Zone bars,Trader Joe's peanuts, and wild salmon-berries. This is also when I learned that being an REI rat for the past two months certainly paid off. In the 30-something degree wind/rain, camped next to another Alaskan glacier, I was toasty warm in my 800-fill bag.
  
  
  
  
  
  

• Eating sourdough pancakes in Girdwood upon returning from the pass (oh. my. delish.).
  

• Arriving in Seward having not bathed (or changed) in three days, only to find that our Bed and Breakfast bathroom was out of hot water. My sorrow was exceeding. Luckily, the warmth returned like Sarah Palin to an electoral race before I could pity myself for too long.

• RP fishing in the early morning rain and bringing back a salmon, which he grilled up for us to snack on all day.
  
• Combing Seward gift shops for a Christmas ornament and a "present" for me to take home. As luck would have it, we found both (I'm terribly good at finding myself presents that I'll appreciate).
  

• Killing time until our 1 am return flight out of Anchorage by hanging out anywhere that was open on Labor Day (seriously, the place shuts down like its nuclear war). We settled on a cultural variety of Irish Pubs, the newest X-Men movie, Subway, and the local Wal-Mart.
  
  
  

• RP walking into AND using the women's restroom completely aloof to his creeper status until he left the stall to find a young girl gaping at him while washing her hands.

• Spotting Alaskan wildlife via a wildlife refuge and a moose crossing the street in Anchorage.
  
  

• Stepping off the plane in Long Beach and getting warm for the first time in 5 days.
  

Thanks for the memories, AK.