People have asked me, “if for any reason you couldn’t live in Alaska, where would you go?” Without thinking, I quickly list Canada, New Zealand’s southern island, Switzerland, the southern tip of Argentina, Patagonia — in other words, places that look a lot like the 49th state.
This week I’d like to take you on an excursion to a glacier theatre...a theatre of eternal ice...a theatre surrounded by dizzying, snow-encrusted peaks, sheer granite walls, a restless theatre of echos, rumbling avalanches; a pensive, brooding theater of silence...a theatre where time suspends itself into an endless beginning.
The first two lines of the Alaska Flag Song: Bold, evocative, an invitation to listen, to explore.
The evening of March 8, a Thursday, was nothing short of a celestial extravaganza. A full moon vied with the aurora borealis to create a spectacular light show across the skies, while Venus and Jupiter played tag as they crouched above the western horizon.
I don’t get into arguments over trail use by outdoor recreationists, because I feel there is room in Alaska for everyone — snowmachiners, cross-country skiers, snowshoers, dog sledders, hikers, mountain bikers, etc.
On the Hawaiian island of Kauai three weeks ago, the rain was coming down in buckets, turning small streams into raging torrents, causing mudslides and flooding that closed roads and schools.
Alaska is such a unique place that it isn’t difficult to compile a list of firsts...
One of the most poignant Twilight Zone episodes I ever saw on television was the one set at a home for senior citizens.
I want to be in movies. I was thinking about a sequel to the recent motion picture, “Moneyball.” I would call it “Moneycall.”
I used to think people postponed retirement and worked longer than they needed to because they wanted to make more money or they wanted to have something to do to feel useful.