Day 1- Arriving in Anchorage, AK

Day 1- Arriving in Anchorage, AK

Snow-capped mountains and inky blue water had been teasing me ever since Seattle’s sentinel: Mt. Rainier took the stage early in the afternoon between fitful snatches of sleep. The clouds parted like gauzy curtains to reveal the majesty of Rainier. Camera stayed tucked away as I lamented being on the wrong side of the plane, but the massive snowy cloak reflected enough light to illuminate the cabin as I basked in the sheer beauty and wildness, however vignetted by

passengers and accoutrements of modern life. Rainier was the prologue to a land sculpted by ice, water, fire, and tectonics-Alaska.

I’m on one of the greatest adventures, and as Mark, fellow Lifetouch photographer and guide on my arrival would say: “People come to Alaska to run from something or THEY’RE LOOKING FOR ADVENTURE.” I was definitely in the later group and reveled in the adventure already unfolding… Mark asked if I wanted to see some sights and before I knew it we were off to Beluga Point after checking in over the phone with the proprietors of the Wildflower B&B; I told them I’d be around in another two hours. Mark and I were of the same mind, why go to a hotel when the light was positively scrumptious at the moment… recognition flashed in his

eyes, yummy light before creature comforts.

Heading down Seward Highway at post-tourist invasion speeds we cut through Potter’s Marsh scouring the rusty red reeds for white ornaments: Swans!!!! The swans busied themselves with feeding, flashing their feathered rumps in the air as I jumped out of Mark’s van p

ositively skipping with joy. I had to calm myself down to get a sharp frame of the swans hanging out with some mallards. Content for now, we scurried on, chasing the light towards Cook Inlet. Mark and I bantered about what we liked to shoot, he likes dragsters and anything fast. Second, Models if they behave and knew how to follow his direction, and third: wildlife, if it wasn’t “gay”. “Gay” to Mark seemed to capture anything that had a tired or clichéd feel to it, which I found to be somewhat ironic. For Mark, being original had a certain aura to it. A cowboy

swagger weaved in and out of his stories about adventures in the back country, sexual conquests, and former jobs ranging from buffet bartender at the snazzy Cook’s Hotel in Anchorage to lumberjack in Northern Minnesota. At one point he claimed that if you took the cowboy out of somebody you would have a Canadian, because the Canadians were closer to the British, and we all know how un-cowboy the British are. Anyway the point seemed to be: “Don’t mess with Alaska!” especially since several states of Texas could fit in her.

Mark and I hit it off. His laid back, funky humor kept you glued to the honey that is the present.

As the light got sucked up by the clouds and Anchorage stood grey against the backdrop of Chugach Mountains, I turned my sights to Denali that shown like a beacon over Knik Arm as the sun shone with its full might upon the peak. It hung, suspended like a French vanilla ice

cream scoop with a light amount of whip on top. I felt that the mountain, by showing its elusive head to me was welcoming me to Alaska, and that the adventure was already unfolding...