Digital Umbilical

Anchorage

In the bustle and hum of travel - jumping from one car to another, yoga camp to hiking to fiddle camp to fishing trip, I lost my digital umbilical - the cords and wiring and dressings for my wonderful little camera. For days I languished in denial, making phone calls to all the places I'd last been, but it is now two weeks on, and I must admit that I left a bag of important items in a bear box adjacent to the Polar Bear Tent Campsite at Fiddle Camp. Sure, I'd stayed up until 8am on the last night of camp singing old country songs and drinking Guinness and Mike's Hard Lemonade (why oh why the lemonade?) and smoking the best cigarette of my life (and one of the only I assure you mum and dad), and it appears that such a good time (what a bloody good time) could only be had at a cost. The cost was not only being too hung-over the next day to remember all my belongings as I left the Scout Camp grounds, and losing my digital umbilical, but I also paid for the night with that familiar near-death nausea and frequent emergency stops on my eight hour drive into the Alaskan wilderness with a new, bemused friend Brendan at the wheel. One hour into the drive found me lying on a pallet by the roadside, groaning. After two hours I woke from a disturbed nap to ring my mother at a roadside stop and tell her I'd just had the most wonderful week at fiddle camp and that I was heading into the wilderness again on a fishing expedition with a new friend I didn't know very well but probably would by the end of the trip, especially if I spewed on the floor of his new car. Lucky for me, the car was already dubbed 'the barn' due to its box-shape and already-doggy smell. This car was sold to Brendan on the fact that it can be hosed out. That was great news to me also. I told mum I didn't know where I was - I had just woken up - but there was, curiously enough, a Canadian flag flying. Not reassuring words to a mother I am sure, but she took it well and reminded me to warn Brendan of the 3 second rule, which in our family, is known as the amount of time it takes between me warning the driver that I need to spew, and the actual spewing. Those were sage words of my mother's because before too long Brendan was putting into practice the 3-second rule, and the barn did not need to be hosed down at any point in the journey.

I had the most scenic spew of my life that day, looking out across mountains, a river, color, twin eagles diving above. Brendan was understanding, and after eight hours of driving we finally made it to Kenticott, and Karen and Mike's newly wed cabin. The point I wanted to make by this long-winded story is that the blog has been very slow, and there have been no new photos in the last weeks because I cannot upload them onto the computer until I get the replacement technology. This will arrive next week, FexEx to Talkeetna. Needless to say I've been having a ball and there is loads to tell. Stay tuned.