Through the Looking Glass

As I go through my notes and recollect the happenings of the past week, I only slightly regret that I didn't post every day. It would have been nice to have a daily log on the blog, but there was just too much happening. It is taking awhile to digest and come to some mental agreement in terms of emotions, particularly regarding going back to Alaska. I love Alaska! Alaska is not a place, it is a state of mind. People in the Lower 48 glaze over when we talk about our life there. How does one describe commercial fishing at a set net site to someone whose chief concern is whether or not to buy organic? (Commercial fishing is organic. Believe me.) People simply don't understand Butch when he talks about flying there. We have often talked about whether or not we should have stayed. Had we hung on another year, we'd have a little more income, but with the way the economy went, we wouldn't have been able to afford to leave, much less buy a house here. We miss our friends, without a doubt. And we miss the lives we had there, the things we did, the activities we engaged in. But it was time to leave, and we wax nostalgic, all the while reveling in the sunny days here. And we don't hesitate to react when people complain about rain or cold.

So on the 13th of April, I headed off into The Looking Glass, or my first step into the unknown that would be the week. I was booked on the Kenmore Air flight from Port Angeles to Boeing Field in Seattle. I thought I had left small planes behind me in Alaska. The Cessna Caravan is a 9 passenger high wing aircraft and the promise is to get you there in 35 minutes. Weather permitting, of course. Where have I heard that before? Once at Boeing Field, passengers are taken by bus to SeaTac airport. It turned out better than I thought, and now I know how it's done. Then came the usual checking in, security, taking off boots (it was easier to wear them than pack them) and making sure I kept track of my stuff. The older I get the harder that is.