Fourth of July: By Day

Remember the old Brothers Grimm fairytales where the remote hero traveled to the edge of the world to accomplish some extraordinary and impossible task to win the hand of the fair princess? Back in the days when the earth was believed to be flat?

I imagined that the edge of the world would have looked like Seward, the meeting place between mountains and seas, where everything was silver at twilight, the ridges, the ripples, and even the stones on the shore. Darkness came a bit earlier, since Seward was farther south than Denali, but there was always a lingering reflection of light somewhere.

Mount Marathon was the highest peak in the city, and renowned for the races held on Independence Day. Only 900 people were allowed to run (first-come, first-serve basis), and all of Alaska turned out to cheer their brethren. It was a distance of approxiamtely 3.1 miles and it seemed that both Matthias and Lola had signed up to run.

Since Mt Marathon was the most happening place to be during the Fourth of July, where did I go? Naturally, I had booked a day cruise to view the Kenai Fjords and wildlife, virtue of my lovely habit of procrastination and there was little availability on the other days. This suited me fine, since I was never the life-of-the-party, center-of-everything kind of gal.

The boat was divided in little tables and I wound up sitting among a lady with a bleeding lip, a father-and-son pair from Montana or Wyoming on a bonding excursion. The lady looked a bit disheveled, and she related how walkable Mt. Kilimanjaro was. "It's a very long distance, but you just walk it. Porters carry your stuff for you."

On to wildlife viewing. I confess that I saw seals and eagles and a whale or two, but quite honestly the recollection was blurry. What I did remember distinctly were the ice formations floating on the sea's surface and breathtaking glaciers that glowed blue and white. Chunks of ice continually dribbled from the glacier onto the sea, creating a lacelike swirl. Chris, son from my table, offered to take my picture.

I don't think I've ever met anyone so balanced. Chris was a geologist on temporary assignment in Anchorage, and his father was visiting for a few days. Even his appearance was earthy, hair the color of cinnamon.

I was nodding; the boat was tumbling and waves of sea sickness hit me all at once. Wondering how I could appear attractive while pulling the Bonine tablets (that Matthias had given me yesterday) out of my overstuffed backpack, I confessed that I was feeling a bit queasy and ran to get some hot water.

Miraculous solution: hot water and lemon and honey. Cures all kinds of indigestion. I came upon the remedy accidentally, by vomiting in Capri after I had stayed up all night to watch the sun rise over Sicily. Needless to say, I am one of those creatures whose sleep is vital to functioning.

So I must have been gone for about twenty-five minutes searching for my remedy. I wondered if Chris was still there. In my part of the world, that fast New York bar hopping scene, you disappear for five minutes and the promising prospect you were talking to has already found another proposition.

I peeked before going above the cabin, to the deck.

Yep, he was still there.

And he still wanted to take me out.