“You should never go to Alaska as a young man because you'll never be satisfied with any other place as long as you live.”
- John Muir
We bought it from Russia for two-cents an acre in 1867 and it became our 49th state in 1959, Alaska. It's our largest state by far. It's two and a half times the size of Texas and four times the size of California. You could squeeze 470 Rhode Islands inside Alaska, but it's almost empty of humans. If Manhattan Island had the same population density as Alaska, there would be 16 people living there. Fun facts.
Kendra and I went there in 1997. It was shortly after we were married and we were both employed by FedEx. At that time, FedEx employees could still jump-seat, space available, on FedEx planes going anywhere in the world. That's what we did. That was four years before evil snatched away the last ounce of innocence there was left in the world.
We rendezvoused in Anchorage with friends - a husband and wife from the lower 48 - and were hosted by Paul, a FedEx pilot based there. The first morning we had reindeer sausage at breakfast, saw Ted Nugent at an outdoor store, and checked out several moose ambling around the outskirts of town.
The next day Paul said, “Let's rent a plane and fly up to the mountain.” Oh…okay, we said, unclear as to what that meant. Soon after, the five of us piled into a 172 and took off northward. We stopped in Talkeetna to refuel and then resumed the flight. It was hard not to notice the giant peak in the distance that was getting closer as we putted along like a bumblebee. Eventually, we were there, Mt McKinley, all 20,310 feet of her. What do we do now, Paul? Well, Paul began ascending up a pass through one of the mountain's crevasses. Higher and higher we went. It was as quiet as outer space, eerily so. The enormity and grandeur outside the plane's little windows was the most majestic thing I've seen, before or since. “Awestruck” now had meaning to me. I was speechless and having an out-of-body episode.
As we continued to climb beside the rugged, inhospitable crags and cliffs of that mighty snow-covered beast, I kept thinking, “Should we be doing this? Are we supposed to be up here in this other-wordly place in this tiny piece of metal with a toy propellor?” I don't know how high we went, but it was high. Very high. Eventually, we leveled off and floated around in our state of suspended animation, everyone gawking and wide-eyed except Paul; he'd done this before. At some point he turned the stick over to Kendra and she flew us along for a while. When it was time, we navigated out through one of the arteries and it spit us back into reality. We headed home to Anchorage, wonderstruck. To this day, I've never had any experience like it. Kendra says the same.
On to music. I can't say much springs to mind when I think of Alaska. Pickings are slim.
Best Band: Given their popularity, it's hard to go against Portugal. The Man. They are the most well known and successful band to come out of Alaska, ever, I guess. But they're not my favorite. I'll go with the bluegrass outfit from Cordova, Bearfoot. They're no longer together, but when they were they made pretty sounds.
Best Solo Artist: Wouldn't it be madness not to choose Jewel? Yes, it would be and I'm not going to not. You would think, though, as much of a sap as I am for songwriting, singing girls with guitars, that I'd have followed her career more closely, but I haven't. My knowledge of her has been scanty. I knew she was from Alaska (Homer). I knew she'd been homeless at one point, living in her car and traveling around California busking on street corners. I knew about her three main radio hits. Beyond that, not much. For whatever reason, I never got into her, which seems odd. No denying it, though, she's a talent who has sold 30 million albums.
Wildcard: I'll go with this bunch from Palmer, Redhead Express. Their lead singer and songwriter's name is Kendra, so it seems right.
Anyone one else have something to offer?