Logbook: Wasilla to Barrow, entry 2: The Big Mountain and the sleeping man

We just passed Denali on the east - much farther from the mountain than in the picture I took coming home from Nuiqsut. I am in a middle seat again, jammed tight between two burly big guys, both of them asleep. Funny thing about that mountain: living near it gives one a very special feeling - almost like somehow the mountain makes you special. Yet, the mountain was here long before any of us or our nations and states. None of us has anything at all to do with its being there. It is completely indifferent to all of us. It will stand long after we have all become dust, recycled repeatedly through countless other lives; after our political institutions have collapsed and our cities vanished. Yet, it won't stand forever. And in the glimpse of meantime, it does make us feel special.

Logbook entry: Nuiqsut to Wasilla, via Barrow and Anchorage, entry 4: The big mountain and the red-haired woman who admired it

I was booked on the direct flight from Barrow to Anchorage. I was glad, because not only is it a much quicker trip then when we stop in Fairbanks, but this is the flight that tends to go right between Denali and Foraker. I was sad, because I got stuck in a middle seat. I wanted the window. Last time, I had the window on the Foraker side. This time I was on the Denali side. It turned out to be a good thing that I had the middle seat. If I had had the window seat I would not have got the shock of red hair in my picture. If I had had the aisle seat, the passenger in the middle would have blocked my view of Denali. I tried to be polite and to lean back a few times, so the guy in the aisle could get a glimpse, too. 

Logbook entry: Wasilla to Barrow: Bikers, cop, stewardess, Denali Italian tourist, salty ice and more

While driving down Lucille Street shortly after I left my house, very close to Metro Cafe, I saw these

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