“How much money do you have?”
“Are you really asking me how much money is in my bank account?” I ask the Canadian customs agent, confused. “Yes. I want to make sure that if anything happens to you while you’re in our country, you won’t be a burden to our economy.”
And so it begins. I feel a new grey hair sprout during her short interrogation of when my last paycheck was and when my next one might come. Four months ago I had a stable job and a home. Now I’m living in my converted Toyota Matrix with my dog. Alaska-bound, with enough clothing in the “closet” to move, should the whimsy strike.
What. Have. I. Done.
Antarctica pic:
This is Antarctica. I visited two years ago as a tourist, hoping it would cure my polar fever. Once there, surrounded by calving glaciers, awkward penguins, and breaching humpbacks, the Polar Bug bit. Hard. Fast forward a year and I’ve sold my Hood River home, quit my lucrative job, and just returned from 10 weeks as a bartender on a Russian tourist ship, the Akademik Ioffe. My name is Katie, and I’m addicted to high latitudes.
Boat pic (Photo by Pete Biskind):
A couple hours after this photo, we found ourselves stuck on a sandbar. The mountain-guide-men rigged a three-to-one pulley system and two of us hauled the pulley rope while the other two shook the boat free from the fine silt. An hour later, toes sufficiently numb, we were released. Made it off the river around midnight, just in time for the endless sun to, well, be high in the sky.
This was one of many lessons in Alaskan self-reliance; we were deep in the wilderness and had only ourselves to count on. Next time I see a windsurfer with a fanny pack and five extra downhaul lines, instead of snickering, I’ll ask what part of Alaska they’re from. We had to figure it out and git ‘er done.
Alaska was a lesson in learning new things, being resourceful and self-reliant, and trying on new lifestyles to see what sticks. Next stop: Svalbard, an island north of Norway with over 3,000 polar bears. This is my job now — exposing tourists to polar bears and penguins in polar regions. After my short contract, I’ll spend some time backpacking around Norway and Iceland.
This year is becoming either the first year of the rest of my life, or a really pleasant and eye-opening third-life crisis. I’m enjoying the ride and am curiously excited to see where it might lead.
In the meantime, if you happen to get the Polar Bug as well, you can park your car-home next to mine and we can give each other therapy.
Additional Alaska notes:
The Alcan Highway. Officially 1,387 miles from Dawson Creek, B.C., to Delta Junction, Alaska. From Hood River it was about 2,400 miles. Mountains, bears, bison and more helped the miles pass. On the side of the road in Yukon: when I pulled over to take a picture, Mollie-dog saw a Dahl sheep clinging to the cliff side some 10 feet in front of us. They had a stare off, I snapped this pic, then we were back to the road.
Halibut fishing off the shores of Homer. I’ve rarely exposed myself to the slimy creatures of the world – definitely more of a furry puppy kind of person. I did this as a sort of test of my fortitude – will I hold a big slimy fish as it flops around? Will I care about witnessing its death for my dining pleasure? Still up for debate, but it felt good to put on my big girl panties and try something new.
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