Sweet Solstice, Merry Christmas and Happy New Year

In the bustle and haste of building a brand new life ... I overlooked a few major events in my blog.

First off, Merry Christmas! I hope everyone experienced a day filled with love, fun and happiness. And while I'm on the subject, Happy New Year's! (Christmas and New Year's just go so hand in hand).

Also, happy solstice. I always make a habit to note the solstice in my blog. In part because the solstice is a big deal in Alaska ... the return of sunlight is an event worth celebrating ... and in part because it provides a good marker for looking back and seeing how far I've come. This time last year I was fully immersed in running the Alaska Star and settling into my cozy little Chugach cabin. This time the year before I had recently started at Channel 2 News and was living with Joshua in our cute little house in Airport Heights (I still love that neighborhood). The year before ... I had just graduated and I was with my family in Argentina, at the start of what would become one of the greatest experiences of my life (to date). The year before that ... I was preparing to leave for five months to go to Guatemala and Honduras ... another phenomenal experience, and in someways the foundation for everything I hope and dream to do in this life.

Another event I overlooked in Novemeber ... the fourth birthday of this blog. It's kind of funny to think about how I started this blog on a whim back in 2005 ... on an icy and cold afternoon. I was sitting in the computer lab on campus and decided to try to figure out how to do it so that I would have a place to put my photos and thoughts when in Guatemala and Honduras. It's amazing how the things we truly love (like writing, traveling, photographing, staying in touch with friends) can take on a life of their own.

OK ... I think that's it on major celebrations ... until the Chinese New Year ... which I don't really celebrate, but since I failed to send out Christmas cards this year ... there's a good chance you all will be receiving Chinese New Year cards ; )

Full moon, friends and freedom

Tonight was so awesome! I went with Ed, Karen and Kim ... three of my very favorite people ... to run the Bear Mountain Loop. With the full moon, crystal clear air and brisk 20 degree temperature, it was a PERFECT night to be out! Often we didn't even need our headlamp. From the top of Bear Mountain we could see from Anchorage to Wasilla, and beyond to the silhouette of the Talkeetnas.

Coming down there's a straight 1,000 foot drop off the mountainside, which funnels into a luge-type trail ... the trail grade, banking corners and overarching trees make it the perfect place to let loose ... and let loose I did. My feet thudded as fast as my heart as I caressed the hard packed snow, my headlamp casting just enough light to give me a few seconds warning of oncoming branches and rocks.

I told Ed, Karen and Kim that they must have orchestrated the evening to such perfection so that I would remember it vividly, and come back to Alaska before too long ...

Remembering my Xela

Yesterday marked one year since I lost Xela. I hiked up into Ram Valley to remember her and spread her ashes. The last hike Xela and I did together was into Ram Valley, and while there I made her sit on a rock outcropping for quite some time so that I could photograph her in the low, soft, winter sunlight. It was on that same rock outcropping that I spread her ashes.

The day yesterday was much like the one a year ago ... perfectly blue skies, a fresh dusting of snow and gentle orange sunlight. My friend Matt came with me ... it was very nice to have the company and support. Zippy and Matt's dog, Peak, also joined the entourage. As we hiked down out of Ram Valley, back to my cabin, the sun set over Cook Inlet to the west, and full moon rose from the north. Very peaceful and beautiful!

Flow

A quick Face Book-style thought:

I'm in the flow

adfadjlfkhd

Roots and wings

Packing is going slow ...

Just packing up my books has taken a couple of hours.

First, I had to read "The Zen of Running," a book my mom gave me that was published in the 1970s. It absolutely articulates the meditative state that running creates.

Then I found my journals from South America. I loved this quote from my journal:

"Sometimes I just want to be home, home with a log cabin and a semblance of a normal routine (try telling myself this when this actually what I have.)"

The best part of that quote is that I wrote it prior to my days in my lil' cabin ... I love how life manifests our deepest desires, and how I knew that while I would want the routine and cabin for a while, I wouldn't want it forever ... certainly we need a mix of roots and wings in life.

Now it is once again time to take flight ...

Amy

A surprise send off

On a different note (than the post below) ...
I got a fabulous surprise send off from co-workers and freelancers yesterday ...
I was totally occupied with finishing up the community calendar and cooking a veggie burger ...
so I didn't really think much of it when people starting drifting into the office.
(There's always a lot of people coming and going around the Star).
All of the sudden everyone converged on my very surprised self.
They gave me a really sweet card, a bottle of wine and a skiing goody bag, filled with all the essentials, including wax, hand warmers, a snow crystal card, a binding repair kit and goggle defogger. (Very thoughtful!).
They brought out some really delicious cakes too - chocolate and tiramisu.
It made me feel all warm inside! As I said ... a fabulous send off.

To be a liver

It's a little unnerving to delete, recycle and throw away so much stuff in one day ...
It's also refreshing.
I spent the better part of the day today sorting through the last year and half. File cabinets cleared out, computer hard drives cleared out, e-mail inboxes cleared out (thousands of e-mails gone in a moment).
When it was all said and done I walked away with a CD player, four plants and two boxes - one containing copies of every single paper I oversaw as editor and the other filled with the pictures that hung on my office wall. I also loaded to maximum capacity a 4GB jump drive.
My office felt so vacant. The purple, orange and yellow walls, which I painted to help keep the short winter days bright, were all that remained of me.
Now it's the same process all over again, but on a bigger scale.
My lil' cabin it's time to say goodbye.
Simplifying - while not always easy - opens the way to great freedom.
It's a way to focus on what's important in life, release unnecessary attachments and allow beautiful moments to unfold spontaneously.
It's with that philosophy that I announce ...
I'm no longer a managing editor ...
I'm now a liver (not the organ, my made up noun from the verb "to live.")

Lean not to my own understanding

I'm here at my office on a Saturday afternoon, cleaning and clearing everything out. Two sticky notes with the following quotes cling to my computer monitor.

"Thoughts unspoken are not unknown to the divine Mind. Desire is prayer; and no loss can occur from trusting God with our desires that they may be molded and exalted before they take form in words and deeds."
Science and Health 1:10

"Trust in the Lord with all thine heart, and lean not unto thy own understanding. In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he will direct thy path."
Proverbs 3:5

How beautiful to watch these ideas in action!

Amy

An 'oh wow' night

Tonight was one of those "oh wow" nights. I joined my Monday running group on an excursion along the ridge between South Fork and Ship Creek. The skies were crystal clear as far as the eye could see ... and boy could we see. Mount Redoubt (the volcano that made headlines in March and April) puffed off some steam to the south. Denali jutted up to the north, making the rest of the Alaska Range seem so measly. Mount Harp stood stoic, bathed in soft sunlight. Symphony and Eagle lakes peeked out through a moraine and tundra valley bottom. And to top it all off, an iridescent orange sunset swept across Cook Inlet and the Anchorage cityscape far below. Alaska at its finest, and the reason I won't be gone for too, too long.

Off to see what I can find out

I took a major leap Friday ... some may say off a cliff ... but I prefer to think of it as a leap of faith in life and the potential it holds. I turned in my two weeks notice at the Alaska Star and am headed to Jackson Hole for a winter of skiing, working and new adventures.

This weekend, as I've begun to think about preparations (what I'm going to take, how I want to travel down there, what I want to give away, what details I need to get in order, etc.), I've felt, well, me.

The side of me that loves randomness, adventure and a moment-by-moment life, has largely been stuffed into the back corner of a closet during the last several months. It's nice to take it out, dust it off and welcome it back into the fold. It balances out my responsible, dedicated and perfectionist side. When put together these two sides create a sort of wholeness.

I've learned so much from working at the Alaska Star, and the paper will always be near and dear to my heart. I believe strongly in the role of journalism in communities, cities, states, countries and the world ... and I am in many ways sad to no longer have that be part of my daily mission ... but when the voice from within speaks, it's always best to listen.

So off I go, in the words of Cat Stevens, "to see what I can find out."
amy

Winter up high, fall down low

Winter on the peaks, fall in the valleys ... its perfect running weather. Today I went with a group of friends up McRoberts Creek toward Matanuska Peak ... we got every kind of weather under the sky ... snow, sunshine, rain, fog. At some points we were traversing over golden leaves, at other points we were tromping through ankle-deep pow-pow. The views from the top were spectacular, with snow all around and yellows, oranges, greens and reds blanketing the flat expanse below. To every season, turn, turn, turn ...

Conquering Crow

Running Crow Pass was the closest I’ve ever been to dreaming while I was awake. My vision focused only on the trail, and everything in the peripheral became blurred and ephemeral – in the same way a fish-eye lens distorts a photo. Time stood still and spiraled away uncontrollably. Rather than a fluid, connected, continuous sense of my being, my conscious mind beat in and out like a strobe light. Thoughts became short and staccato: “Fireweed. Root. Mud. River crossing. Water. Gu shot. Keep moving. Ladder. Steep hill. Untied shoe. Branch. Bird. Raspberry. Rock. Bridge. Whoo hoo!”

The feeling is the most insane form of sanity. It’s the razor sharp line between total freedom and bodily captivity. It’s discovering that the secret to running is not training, eating or sleeping – although those help. No, the secret to running is knowing that at any given moment you have a choice. You can either allow the full feeling of the moment to wash over and energize you, or you can succumb to the thudding pain coursing through your feet, legs, torso, arms and head. If you choose the former, you find moments of oneness with the trail and yourself ­ – and ultimately the reason for taking on 24 miles of rocky, rugged, ridged terrain.

Coming across the finish line with a time of 4 hours and 11 minutes - good enough for a fourth place finish among females. Next year it would be super cool - and doable - to shave off 11 minutes and go sub-four.

Pure elation

A hug from my neighbor and fellow runner Hugh at the finish

Hosing the mud off my legs

(A BIG THANK YOU TO DANIEL SHEPARD FOR THE PHOTOS!!!!)

Monet's Alaska

Oh the wildflowers,
dots of pink, purple, blue
Sprinkled in deep, vibrant green
Forget-me-nots and columbine
Bluebells and wild roses
Indian paintbrush
And a dozen other blooms
Names for which, I do not know
Out my backdoor,
on a mountainside
Clapping and whispering
as I stride by
An afternoon excursion
into the wilds so near
A summer canvass for Monet
Unordered beauty,
divinely graced

My ideal Friday night

My ideal Friday night ...
in a cabin that hasn't been cleaned for two weeks
dishes piled up in the sink
And a puppy with not one, but two ropes
Who wants to play nonstop
After climbing a mountain and going for a morning walk
A glass of Courvoisier,
left from my dad's visit in November
And movies about ultrarunners
Testing the limits of human endurance
Quiet outside, sunlight at midnight
Nowhere to go, no place to be
Alone, at peace, mentally free


(Author's note: item number one on the agenda tomorrow morning is cleaning the cabin. I've been so darn busy, racing about like a tornado, that I've left a path of destruction ... and now that I'm in the calm after the storm, I'm willing to overlook the grit, grime, clutter and chaos until after a good night's sleep).

The sun's grand appearance

Shout out a few hallelujahs and do a few sun salutations ... sunlight hit my cabin today for the first time since the beginning of November ... meanwhile the thermometer read a balmy 0 degrees ... I definitely had frosty cheeks when Zippy and I got back from our run.

Happy Birthday

Today marks the third anniversary of my blog ...

And the 292nd post.

Who knew when I was poking around blogspot on a whim that "From North to South" would become such an important outlet for sharing my thoughts and staying connected to the people in my life?

Cheers!

The ultimate blunder

The Alaska Star made its worst blunder yet since it's been under my guidance ...

We killed the wrong person ... or more specifically we reported the wrong name of the victim in a fatal fire.

Needless to say, I fielded some pretty unhappy phone calls today. Major ooops! I'm still investigating how it happened.

A little stressed out from the day, I went to a yoga class this evening. The teacher was great, and the class has the feel and pace I'm looking for. That calmed my nerves a lot. I plan to continue.

Later, back at the cabin, I was drinking tea and recalling a tip a neighbor gave me last night: the Eagle River Nature Center planned to groom a portion of the trails this evening.

I grabbed my skate skis, boots and pools, which I recently picked up at a ski swap, and headed out the door.

To my delight I found fresh corduroy with not even one track sliced through it. The full moon peaked in and out of the clouds, illuminating the area.

I clicked into my skis and before long I was cruising around on the trails, figuring out what I was doing as I went. I had so much fun ... even with the few face plants I took!

I'm going to try to find someone to give me some pointers on how to actually skate ski ... and then I can get on the frozen-over Eagle River and just go.

I live in an incredible place!

With love, from Alaska,

Amy

Backyard treasure

Xela and I are starting to settle into our new cabin. Today marks the first official day of Internet access for me ... so I'm moving back into the 21st century ... but still retaining plenty of rustic, quintessential Alaska.

Today was just one of those days at work. I got home feeling depleted and deflated. Xela, on the other hard, got home feeling buoyant and bouncy ... her way of saying, "mom, is it time for our daily run?"

Well, I couldn't quite get myself motivated to go for a run, but I could get myself motivated to get out the door.

We headed down the trail that leads from the back door of our cabin to basically endless trails through Chugach State Park and Chuguch National Forest. I mosied along, Xela leaped down the trail, every now and then running back to make sure I still trailed.

Five minutes into our walk I heard a big "kerplunk," and then "splash." It sounded like somebody had cannonballed off the boardwalk into the lake up ahead. Expecting that to be a very unlikely scenario, I approached cautiously.

The lake came into view and there was a mama grizzly and her two cubs swimming through the water!

I put a leash on Xela and we slowly walked up the trail - giving the trio plenty of room. They didn't even notice us go past.

At the next boardwalk, a fair distance away, I stopped and watched the bears as they made their way down river in the opposite direction.

Only the sound of salmon jumping out of the water pierced the dusk silence.

As the skies darkened, we continued down the trail.

A few minutes later a shrill sound rang through the forest. The more we walked, the louder and hoarser the shrill became. In a very eerie way, it sounded like a little kid screaming.

Following the noise, I spied a big bird perched in a tree. I'm not much of a birder and I couldn't quite figure out what type of bird it was.

I watched it for a minute or two and walked on.

The bird followed, swooping right in front of use before landing on a branch - this time perfectly silhouetted by the faded grey night.

My best guess: a great horned owl. It certainly had the two pokes (for lack of better words) sticking out of its head.

By the time we returned to our cabin, my whole demeanor had done a 180. It's a true treasure to have Alaska as my backyard.

Me a ramblin'

I spent the better part of today lost in dreamland -- letting my mind take me to faraway places and people that are still close in my heart. (While, of course, still ploughing through all that needs to get done before this week's edition of the Alaska Star is shipped to the printer). It's amazing and daunting how full life is -- how much potential it holds, yet how much we hold ourselves back from that potential.

I received a letter of rejection from Lonely Planet this evening. After I sent my resume and some clips in to the guidebook company last spring, I received a response that asked me to complete a lengthy writing sample. A month ago I turned in that writing sample, and tonight I learned that my "writing is not as authoritative, engaging and evocative" as they're looking for in new writers. For a little while I felt deflated -- I mean I've never been rejected based on my writing before -- and then I realized I ought not to let my self-worth be based on other's opinions -- for good or bad. I've always written because, like being in the outdoors, that's what I love. Period. End of story.

Sweet dreams,

Amy

Working hard, playing hard

There's only one good reason this blog has seen very little activity in the last month:

I've been working hard and playing hard.

Between getting the hang of being an editor, a few weekend excursions and generally soaking in every ounce of the long summer days... I haven't really had time to even sleep (no exaggeration there).

Anyhow, tonight I finally went through and organized the hundreds of photos I've taken in the last month, and sometime this weekend (promise) I'll get the cream of the crop posted on this blog. Images of Seward, Kotzebue and an adventure race await!

On a "random thought" note, I've really enjoyed a full year of watching the seasons change. As much as I love traveling, you don't get to watch the world around you melt, blossom, change colors and ice over in any sort of continuous fashion. When one's life is spent on the road, or especially in the air, everything becomes a disjointed mish-mash of heat and cold, fall and spring, snow and flowers, etc. So it's been fun to feel the energy and anticipation that a whole community experiences with each change in season.

Tomorrow I head to Alaska's signature Fourth of July event -- Mount Marathon. In its 81st year, some 700 runner (you have to enter a lottery to get in) zoom up and down the side of the mountain that towers over Seward. I'm going down early tomorrow morning to spend the day with Joshua while he covers the race for Channel 2 News. (With any luck in the lottery, I'll be one of the runners next year... so it will give me a chance to not only hang out with Joshua for the day, but also get a good sense of how people navigate the mountain... it's quite an intense race).

Happy Fourth,

Amy