by Karin van Leeuwen
NEVER, truly never did I think that I would marvel at Alaska no less than three times in my life. Alaska. That sounds cold, far away and rugged. And I’m not into that. I like warm, close and flat.
When one of my best friends told me she was moving to Alaska, for good, I swallowed hard. There was no such thing as a nearby vacation destination here, and I’ve never been much of an adventurer. Still, I flew across the ocean three times to see how Eef, along with her husband Peet, ran a lodge near Anchorage.
The first time I traveled with Eef’s mother. We landed at the Seattle airport and I feasted my eyes. I drank coffee in the very first Starbucks at Pike Place Market, lay awake for a night at the Roosevelt Hotel and went by monorail to the Needle. I was already worn out from all the impressions and I wasn’t even in Alaska yet.
THREE TIMES I flew from Seattle to Anchorage and each time my heart pounded in my throat. If only I wouldn’t be mauled by a bear, if only I wouldn’t freeze, and if only I had warm enough clothing with me. The last time I saw Eef, Peet and their son Storm was a year and a half ago now. Five days in the summer I stayed in Alaska with my two boys and the love of my life, and from there we toured. We gambled in Las Vegas, felt the summer vibe of Venice Beach, took pictures at the Hollywood Sign, had breakfast at Mel’s Drive-in in San Francisco. It was the vacation of a lifetime that we can’t stop talking about to this day.
I no longer have the fear of being eaten by a bear, of freezing and of not having enough warm clothes stuffed in my suitcase. That fear has given way to hunger, hunger for more. To see more, experience more and do even more. The adventurer in me has been awakened in cold but oh so beautiful Alaska.
* Karin van Leeuwen (Hilversum, 1972) writes for Dutch local newspapers, online women’s magazines and cycling magazines.
