When Everything Else Fails...Go With the Flow

The last 60 years have taught me one valuable lesson. When everything else fails, go with the flow! The moment is all we have. I woke the day of my 60th birthday to the gloomy drizzle. Outside the window the intense burnt ochre hue of the deciduous forest across the street offered a window to Alaska's autumn in full swing. The glittering snowy tops of the mountains embracing Anchorage appeared and disappeared in the backdrop of thick gray clouds. I checked the weather --30 degrees according to my cell phone--enjoyed a warm shower, dressed in layers, ate grapes and pickles, packed my lunch and camera gear, put on my black leather jacket with its winter wool inlaid, and headed to Earthquake Park, to one of the access points of the Tony Knowles Coastal Trail, an 11-mile multiuse path along the Knik Arm traversing a variety of wildlife habitats.

Before leaving the hotel, I left phone messages for Rust's Flying Service, Fly Denali, and Regal Air Taxi. Then, I drove from Spenard Road to Wisconsin Street, and took Milky Way Drive to Northern Lights Boulevard. The names of the streets along evoke a ride in a parallel universe.

Once at Earthquake Park, as I wore one glove and selected the ISO setting on my Nikon for the gloomy ride, I dispelled the idea of renting a plane to fly to the Talkeetna Mountains, Denali National Park, Wonder Lake, and Fairbanks. With bad weather and little visibility that seemed like a waste of energy, money, and time.

As I approached the trailhead, my lungs expanded inhaling the crisp, cold, and clean air. The mild briny sent of the mudflats at Knik Arm mixed with the scent of wild bushes, pine, and deciduous trees, offering an opera of sensual delights. Never had my lungs experienced such purity of air, not even during my younger days exploring the astonishing Venezuelan Gran Sabana and the Amazon rainforest.

Take it from a seasoned hiker, the Tony Knowles Coastal Trail is the most beautiful coastal trail in the nation. It gently winds along the coast eleven miles from the chalet at Kincaid Park to the Anchorage downtown. Although known for being Anchorage's most popular trail, I had the luxury of traveling solo, and spotting few Harlequin Ducks, a Steller's Jay, and a Black-capped Chickadee. A flock of Common Ravens ca-ca-cawed along my walk as I explored this local treasure narrating a long epic poem of natural and human history.

On my journey, I skirted the fault line of the '64 quake, strolled through scented forests, encountered a moose, and absorbed the sweeping view of yellow leaves surrendering to another winter cycle, and the stunning view of Mount McKinley, also known as Denali, North America's highest peak. From the open skies of Point Woronzof, I spotted the song of beluga whales in the distance and click, click, click, photographed an old bald eagle perching on a tree branch.

Who would have known? Who could have said? This humble poet born of water and waves with a two-week expiration date, defied all odds, outlived both parents, and lived a rich and full life. Hiking boots firmly stepping on the carpet of yellow leaves, I received my 60th birthday on the most magical place on earth, the Arctic Tundra, literally few steps away from the Arctic Circle. If that is not a miracle, I don't know what is.

The sun pierced through dense clouds, and I marveled with the view of snow caps suspended on a carpet of fog between waters and skies. The old ball eagle posed for the longest time, as if acknowledging the fact that we may be older than your average pack, but here we are, full of splendor awaiting another wild ride. I lowered the Nikon, took a deep breath, and cried.