Sunday, August 29, 2010
The Countdown Begins
If the schedule holds true, we have one month before the season ends. Rumor has it, though, the Norwegian Star won't make its final port of call on the 29th of September, which means the season will end on the 24th. While the experience has been an overall positive one, focus is now shifting to what is to come, and the anticipation of the next great roadtrip is increasing by the day. September is around the corner, the colors are already changing into their fall brilliance, and the Days of '98 are growing shorter. I already feel as if the winter has arrived despite a month remaining in the cruise season. September is just around the corner, and the homestretch to Dawson looks to be quiet. The countdown begins.
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
Isolated Paradox
Trampled By Turtles fired up the Red Onion like the Days of '98 never ceased with Southern bluegrass attitude. The Drag Queen Show brought the oddity of a small town to the magnification of Alaska-sized proportions. A Belly Bumping contest can roll eyes and bellies alike with a healthy does of alcohol intoxication. So what does a bluegrass band, drag and belly bumping all have in common?
Nothing.
But that's how Skagway rolls. A quirky town at the mercy of bitterly cold winds and built on the hopes and greed of gold, represented by a small, eccentric group of diverse personalities, catering to hundreds of thousands of camera-snapping tourists in a five-month period. Maybe the Days of '98 haven't ceased. Who knew a small town can be an isolated paradox of the stereotypes of what a small town should be, projecting a bi-polar mentality of carnivorous ferocity that makes night and day out to be indistinguishable shades of gray? And yet, it's all packed away as a simple charm, snuggled eloquently between the Lynn Canal and the Coast Mountains, ready to unleash a supernova from its white dwarf confinements.
Indeed, an isolated paradox.
Nothing.
But that's how Skagway rolls. A quirky town at the mercy of bitterly cold winds and built on the hopes and greed of gold, represented by a small, eccentric group of diverse personalities, catering to hundreds of thousands of camera-snapping tourists in a five-month period. Maybe the Days of '98 haven't ceased. Who knew a small town can be an isolated paradox of the stereotypes of what a small town should be, projecting a bi-polar mentality of carnivorous ferocity that makes night and day out to be indistinguishable shades of gray? And yet, it's all packed away as a simple charm, snuggled eloquently between the Lynn Canal and the Coast Mountains, ready to unleash a supernova from its white dwarf confinements.
Indeed, an isolated paradox.
Friday, August 20, 2010
August Burns Twilight
I haven't kept up with the blog as much as I would like, but then again, it's more interesting to speak of life as it's being spiced up by a variety of spices, both contradicting and complimentary.
It seems just like yesterday when I first stepped into the frozen solitude of where the north wind blows, and already I can see Dawson in the distance. No closer am I to knowing my journey through the winter months or next summer, but maybe it's better that way. It keeps me on my toes and I won't be caught with my pants down. Until September 29. Then everyone will be caught with their pants down.
Our many ventures out to Dyea has revealed only one bear, but what a beauty it was! A young, 600-lb grizzly simply fishing for its next meal with a dozen humans mere feet from its hunting ground. How foolish we were, but how mesmorizing the creature was! Our journey to Juneau revealed nearly a dozen whales, countless seals, many eagles, and what seemed like more shopping ventures than galaxies in the universe. It was all topped off with the magnificent excursion to Mendenhall Glacier, revealing both its rough and tough exterior and its powerful, deep blue passion of its core being.
And of course, the tours have all gone well. I've even been receiving tips for dredge tours, which is almost never heard of. With numbers down, I've only been landing one train tour a week, but I've made sure I give it my best. So much experience has been gained in only a few short months, but I know there's a lot more to gain. Now, the focus is shifting to another job search and the possibilities for the winter. Oh yes, and getting my car fixed once and for all (Whitehorse next Thursday for that).
Tator, Lady Rush and the Bezel Queen have departed for their semesters of higher education, and along with the fireweed's brilliant fuchsia transforming to pale white cotton unleashed to the mercy of the north wind, signals the beginning of the end of what's been shaping to be a summer of the ages. With still over a month left, August burns twilight, but the sun hasn't set quite yet. We may have conquered the Golden Stairs over the Chilkoot Summit, we may have survived Bennett's winter and the Yukon's vicious rapids, but we haven't reached Dawson yet.
It seems just like yesterday when I first stepped into the frozen solitude of where the north wind blows, and already I can see Dawson in the distance. No closer am I to knowing my journey through the winter months or next summer, but maybe it's better that way. It keeps me on my toes and I won't be caught with my pants down. Until September 29. Then everyone will be caught with their pants down.
Our many ventures out to Dyea has revealed only one bear, but what a beauty it was! A young, 600-lb grizzly simply fishing for its next meal with a dozen humans mere feet from its hunting ground. How foolish we were, but how mesmorizing the creature was! Our journey to Juneau revealed nearly a dozen whales, countless seals, many eagles, and what seemed like more shopping ventures than galaxies in the universe. It was all topped off with the magnificent excursion to Mendenhall Glacier, revealing both its rough and tough exterior and its powerful, deep blue passion of its core being.
And of course, the tours have all gone well. I've even been receiving tips for dredge tours, which is almost never heard of. With numbers down, I've only been landing one train tour a week, but I've made sure I give it my best. So much experience has been gained in only a few short months, but I know there's a lot more to gain. Now, the focus is shifting to another job search and the possibilities for the winter. Oh yes, and getting my car fixed once and for all (Whitehorse next Thursday for that).
Tator, Lady Rush and the Bezel Queen have departed for their semesters of higher education, and along with the fireweed's brilliant fuchsia transforming to pale white cotton unleashed to the mercy of the north wind, signals the beginning of the end of what's been shaping to be a summer of the ages. With still over a month left, August burns twilight, but the sun hasn't set quite yet. We may have conquered the Golden Stairs over the Chilkoot Summit, we may have survived Bennett's winter and the Yukon's vicious rapids, but we haven't reached Dawson yet.
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