leaving Alaska

We left Anchorage Saturday night to a low orange sun that made the mountains and fields reds and purples, and we listened to the song, "Gold," by Interference, thinking of Alaska and of leaving her:

And I love her so

I wouldn't trade her for gold

I'm walking on moon beams

I was born with a silver spoon

And I'm gonna be free

I'm gonna be free

I'm walking on moon beams

and staring out to sea

And if a door close

Then a road for home start building

And tear your curtains down

For sunlight is like gold

And you better be you

And do what you can do

When you're walking on moon beams

Staring out to sea

Cause if your skin was soil

How long do you think before they start digging

And if your life was gold

How long would you think you'd stay livin'?

And I love her so

I wouldn't trade her for gold

Thank you, friends, for sending us off with hugs, laughter, bread, cookies, tears, good books, magnetic poetry, and prayers. We love you so much.

r

We made it only as far as Wasilla Saturday, one hour north, since we got such a late start, and stayed there with Jess and Tara for the night. Going to coffee the next morning with them, then picking up a new pump fitting for our camp stove (so as to be able to make coffee along the route), and stopping to download a couple "This American Life" episodes meant we finally pulled out at 2:00 pm yesterday. I’ve said it before: we ain’t too swift leaving places. We’ve got packing possessions down to an art but can’t seem to break free of communion. At 2:00 am this morning we camped off the road on a gravel section of the old Alcan. The winds and skylight were almost too plentiful to sleep. I write now from a rad little coffee shop in Whitehorse that we discovered last time. I hear multiple languages and see such a variety of people. Onward ho! today, with hopes of making it to Liard River.