The Dark Fort, Pt. 1

Self Portrait, 2005

I registered for my first photography class in the spring of my sophomore year of high school. I would start the class the following fall as a junior. I remember being so excited to start the class that summer. I bugged my Dad for his old Canon A-1, which had been well used my whole childhood on various trips to Oregon, the Zoo, and camping. He taught me how to use it one lazy May afternoon. I practiced loading film into the manual 35mm camera, practiced focusing on the plants in the livingroom window, and studied all of the extra equipment that was hidden in various compartments of the smelly tan leather case. I didn't shoot much with the camera that summer, but I'd periodically take it out of it's case, place the colorful worn strap around my neck, and walk around the house snapping imaginary pictures as the shutter clicked open and shut.

When the first day of the class finally came, I found myself fidgeting nervously as I sat at a table with 4 popular seniors in the photography room. The teacher, Ms. Maravetz, was a quirky woman in her late 40's. She bounced around the room handing out syllabuses. The class was a combination of an advanced photography class and a beginning class. I listened with wide eyes as she talked about the class, the projects we would do, and the supplies we needed. By the end of the first day, my excitement still lingered. The next couple of weeks involved projects like making pinhole cameras out of oatmeal containers and placing various objects on photo paper, exposing light to it, and seeing what interesting images you got. I didn't care about these projects, I just wanted to start taking pictures!

We finally got into the good stuff mid-semester. I learned how to load film into a developing tank and successfully develop a roll of film. Using chemicals and taking care to process film was completely new to me. I sat in the classroom gently shaking my canister as directed, staring at the clock. My first roll of film contained an assortment of images with bad contrast. Candles on my mom's antique bookshelf, a passing city bus, a grassy park. Looking back, I was timid and afraid to really experiment. I didn't get how to look at things and see an interesting photograph, how colors contrast in black and white, or how to use light. I just clicked away, trying to get rid of my 24 exposures as easily as possible.

The darkroom was also completely new territory. I'd only seen them in movies. Stepping into the darkness and letting my eyes adjust, I was confused about what I saw. These big machines, different trays full of strange smelling chemicals, timers and tools. How bizarre the darkroom was to 16 year old! My first print, the city bus, was terrible. So dark and blurry that you could barely make out what it was. I still have it because I can still remember the feeling of thrill and accomplishment I had when I saw the blank white paper transform into an image; it was an image I had created, a moment in time that I somehow captured.

I quickly learned that the photography class at Manzano high school was one that kids took because they could bullshit their way through it and never have to do any work. We had assignments, various things we were told to focus on in our shooting, and were given weeks to complete each assignment. So, kids would wait until the day before the assignment was due and try to crank out as many crappy prints as they could in the hour and fifteen minutes of class, and hand their work in. The rest of the class periods were spent sitting at tables doing other homework, talking, or they would just leave the classroom. Mrs. Maravetz ran things very loosely, and spent most of her time at her desk doing who knows what. I never wasted a class period sitting at my table, and instead spent every second in the dark room, agonizing over my prints, trying to get them as close to perfect as I could.


Kelli, 2005

As the year continued, I worked on my printing technique. Developing film became second nature. I became more familiar with my camera and how to use it to my advantage, and became a little more adventurous in what I photographed. One Saturday morning, my Dad took me down to the Bosque by the Rio Grande and we walked along the river as I snapped away. As my other classes dragged me down with bland subjects and math homework that was too hard, the photography class pushed me up and made me feel like there was something I had a shot at being good at. I knew I would never be a math superstar, or even make it to calculus. I knew that I would never need to know the difference between meosis and mitosis of a cell, or remember the dates I memorized in social studies. Photography felt like it meant something. Like it could take me farther and give me more joy than anything else I could learn in school.


Cottonwoods at the Bosque, 2005

The school year came to an end, and I registered for intermediate photography. I was sad to leave the photography room on the last day of the year. I had spent the past 10 months tenderly growing a passion in the chemical haze and red glow of the darkroom. What if I forgot everything over the summer? What if I came back and had to start from square one? These fears lurched in the back of my mind all summer. I shot color film on my old Canon all summer, but much preferred the hidden beauty I found in black and white prints.

When summer ended and I returned to school for my senior year, my final year, things felt different. I was anxious to move on from high school. It was a world I never felt like I quite fit into. Many describe high school as the best years of their lives, but I absolutely hated it. I was quiet, shy and reserved for all of high school. I didn't make friends very easily, and really didn't care to have anything to do with most of the kids at my school. Whether or not it was true, I felt like I knew more, felt more, and thought more than they did. I hung around with a crowd of rebels, pseudo-tough kids who cursed, ditched class, wore black and listened to "weird" music for the first part of high school. I remember one lunch period where we all sat in out spot outside by the football field we never set foot on. A few of my friends started talking about their dads. They compared them, if they were drunks, had ever beaten them, that kind of thing. I remember feeling so strange sitting there hearing this. I stayed silent for the conversation. My Dad was a loving man who never drank and who would never hurt a fly, let alone my sister or I. "I don't fit with these people", I thought to myself. But I returned to the spot every lunch period, because that was my group.


Collapse, 2006

Most of those kids dropped out of school and fucked their lives up, and I found myself with only two good friends at school my senior year. My older friends, most of my "group", had graduated the previous year. Things were okay for a few weeks, but I soon began to feel alienated and unwelcome with them. They would gang up on me when we were together, make me feel like crap, like an idiot, like a loser. I clung to our friendship for a while, though, because I had no one else. Eventually, I grew sick of what assholes they were to me. As a senior, I was able to leave campus for lunch, and my Dad lived about a 10 minute walk away. So, every lunch period, I would walk by myself home, grab something to eat, sit down for a few minutes, and walk back to school. When we had assemblies, and the whole school would go to the gym for an hour, I would leave school and walk to my house knowing that my dad would be working. Some days, I was so unhappy with school that I would just walk to a nearby park, sit on a bench for an hour until my dad had left for work, and walk back home.

One of the few things that kept me at school, aside from wanting to graduate and get out of there, never to look back, was the darkroom. It was a sanctuary to me, my own little world where I could put on my ipod and feel completely at ease. I spent a lot of time there in my senior year. I'd go in and work during some lunches, and spent every class printing or developing film. Like I mentioned earlier, most of the kids in the photography classes didn't do any work. So, I had the darkroom to myself. No matter how alone or unwelcome I felt when at school, I knew that the darkroom was there waiting for me, quiet and peaceful; A place where I could create and be myself.


Part of my final project, 2006

By the end of senior year, Mrs. Maravetz was in love with me. Every project I handed in came back to me with an A+. She would pull me aside in class and tell me how much she loved my work. Aside from english classes, I've always been a pretty average student. So, hearing such compliments made me feel so proud. My family was also very supportive of my newfound love, and I was always eager to show them my newest work. I also decided, at this point, that I wanted to study photography at UNM in the fall.

---

The photography department at the University of New Mexico is excellent. The school has a decent lab facility, brand new Macs for digital photography, and the upper level professors are probably amazing. Unfortunately, I never met any of them. I took two photography courses over my first and only year at the school, from fall of 2006 to spring 2007. Both were taught by the same grad student instructor, too busy with her own thesis show to really pour her heart into teaching us. Despite this, I really enjoyed the assignments and found them to be challenging, but something felt off. Unlike the classes in high school, these photography classes were full of kids who actually wanted to learn and be photographers. A few of my peers were really talented, had unique styles, and I sensed their passion for the art. But many of them seemed to be majoring in photography because it was hip. It was the cool thing to do. I felt very little originality from these kids, and a lot of competition.

I had also just moved out on my own, and could barely afford the required materials. Digital photography is obviously more common and popular, but my heart was in traditional photography, requiring the purchase of film and a more expensive, higher grade fiber based paper for printing. Working a part time, and later full time job gave me little or no time to shoot or work in the darkroom outside of classroom hours. I was discouraged with myself and with how I wasn't able to give photography as much attention as I wanted. After my Dad died that December, I was faced with depression and a total lack of motivation. It was hard to pick up his old camera and look through the viewfinder as he once did, and hard to remember how much joy it brought him to see my work. My final project in my last photo class was a series of images that linked back to my dad. I didn't want to associate my grief with photography, but it was inevitable.

This began my 3 year hiatus from photography.


Self Portrait, 2007

High

My contract with the zipline says that I will be a full-time guide from May 8th through September 1st, and part-time until September 31st due to school. The day I received my offer letter from the zipline company, I was asked to attend the first intro day of training the following day. Like any first day at any new job, a lot of info was thrown at me. I tried to remember the most important aspects, as well as facts about Juneau, the rainforest, and the zipline operation.

I'm very impressed with the company. They have very high safety standards, use well maintained equipment, and really have their stuff together. The owners, Matt and Rachel, seem like such fun, kind hearted people. They built the company from the ground up, and it shows in their dedication and attitudes. The 3 other guides I met seem like really friendly, interesting people too. It'll be fun meeting the rest of the team and getting to know everyone.

We all got to run the course, too. I was a little nervous, but since I have some experience belaying and caving, I know that those harnesses aren't going to rip and steel cables aren't going to snap. It was SO much fun, and such a truly unique perspective on the world. The course, which has 7 different ziplines, goes over a stream in some areas, and beautiful, lush rainforest. Ziplining doesn't have that free falling feeling like I thought it would have, and because of this, all you feel is the wind in your face and the speed as you zip through the air.

At the end of the day, it was very clear that I'm going to have the coolest job ever this summer.

I will have to catch the rest on the second wave of training beginning on May 8th because I don't have my CPR/first aid certification yet, which means that I get to enjoy unemployment for a couple more weeks :D I registered for a CPR class and a first aid class through the Red Cross, and those are happening two days next week. I'm not really looking forward to spending 8 hours in a classroom, but I'm sure that i'll find the information valuable in the future.

Check this out: the cruise ship calendar for this summer. Pretty crazy how many ships come through each day! The year-round population of Juneau is 32,000 but in the summer it increases by 15,000 people!!!


Yesterday we had absolutely gorgeous weather, so Steph and I decided to hike a popular trail called the Perseverance Trail. It's about 5 minutes drive from our house, located at the end of a road called Basin Rd. After you leave the neighborhood, you drive over a long wooden bridge that hugs a cliff, and the trailhead is near another abandoned mine. This trail takes you up and around Mt. Juneau and into a valley with mountains on either side. It's about 6 miles roundtrip and a number of more difficult trails branch off from it. The views are stunning. We didn't hike the entire trail because snow covered a lot of the trail near the end, but we were out for about 2 hours. We saw two porcupines at different points along the trail. One was eating the buds from a bush and one was in a tree. Who knew they were so cute! The only one I've ever seen was squished flat as a pancake along some abandoned highway in New Mexico. I was 7 or 8 and my Mom had pulled the car over so that she could pluck some of it's quills for who knows what. We also saw a guy pass us carrying a big gun. I guess hunting season has begun..?
It's still weird to think that such a fantastic hike is so easily accessible to me. In Abq I had the foothills, and hiking there will always be something I loved about the city, but the trails and scenery were limited. This is Alaska. Everything is taken up a notch in intensity.


Mine opening that had cold air blowing out of it!










Ebner Falls









We also took advantage of the sunshine and planted our little flower bed. We've had the plants sitting in their little containers for a week because it's been rainy the past 4 or 5 days. This seemingly simple task of planting flowers was turned extremely difficult when we had to take a shovel to the area to clear out all of the weeds and rotting wood chips. I guess I'll find out if I have my Grandma's green thumb if and when the flowers bloom.

After the rough gardening experience we were starving, so I cooked chicken breasts in olive oil and seasoning, wild rice, and Steph made a salad. We took the rain cover off of our deck table and chairs and ate outside. The horizon stayed light until about 10pm, followed by the moons glow filtering through the windows.
It was a lovely day.

I've noticed that Juneauites tend to obsess about the weather. When it's sunny, everyone mentions it to each other, as if we're all blind. "Enjoy the sun!" is something I've heard a couple times. Everyone walks or bikes. When it's not, people also talk about that. One man told me to "stop doing that rain dance" on one particularly rainy day. When there is a small break in the clouds, and a little bit of blue sky is visible overhead, locals refer to this as a "suckerhole". Everyone busts out the Xtratuffs again. It's actually similar to when it rains or snows in Albuquerque and everyone makes a big deal about it, people forget how to drive, and everyone talks about how long it's supposed to rain for or how many inches (or centimeters) of snow is supposed to accumulate.

Also, we bought a loaf of fresh bread that is made at a local bakery and a bag of rolls last week. In two days, both were moldy. Apparently the air is just so moist here, and as my mom put it, "spores and all kinds of little living organisms are floating around up there", that the bread has to be kept in the fridge or it will grow arms and legs and walk away in a week. Maybe this was common sense, but I've never kept bread in a fridge before. Just another change I guess!

Oh, and the skin on our fingertips has been peeling off the last couple weeks. Now what could possibly have caused THAT? Weird.



This was a pretty rambling post. I'll try to make the next one a little more organized :)

Alignment

When I emerged from the ferry on April 5th, all of my earthly possessions were crammed into the back of a Uhaul, the boxes now damp from sea air. I was exhausted, bedraggled and jobless, but my spirit was burning more fiery than it ever has. The sunrise on that first rainy day in Juneau was at 6:13 am, and sunset was at 7:48 pm.

Today, the sun rose at 5:32 am, and the sun will set at 8:22 pm. I'm sinking into the Juneau way of life, enjoying our beautiful sunny days as well as days like today, when rain drizzles continuously and the mountains are sheathed by sunken clouds. I now sit in my cozy home, watching out my window as tugboats pull container ships down the channel and Bald Eagles soar by. I am no longer without a job, taking away the heaviest of my worries. My spirit, however, still burns for this place and this life.

I had just about given up on having my dream job this summer, a job that would lift me high above my comfort zone, from pushing paper in a windowless office somewhere and into the natural world. But, the winds changed, and the position with the zipline company went through after all! I'll be a full-time Zipline Guide with them this summer. I am SO excited to start training, which will probably be this upcoming weekend. Ziplining through the trees all summer. I also get to go on other tours for free, like helicopter glacier trekking and whale watching. How amazing will that be!

Everything is aligning.

It's interesting to look back on the struggle getting here. Not the physical struggle of getting from point A to B, which was surprisingly smooth, but the emotional one. When I first had the idea to move to Alaska, back in August, I knew nothing of the state or what living here was like. It was through hours of internet research that I learned so much and became so entrenched in the idea of moving up. I would look at pictures, watch videos on Youtube, and read blogs similar to my own about other people who had left what they knew for a shot at living in Alaska.

When I get excited or passionate about something, it's hard for me to keep it bottled up in my head. I told my Sister first, since she is my confidant and the person I tell just about everything to. She laughed, said "Why Alaska?" and probably didn't take me seriously at all. The same goes for when I told my Mom and Stepdad. "Alaska!!!" my stepdad Jack proclaimed, eyebrows raised. My mom made a comment about Sarah Palin territory. I know that they didn't think I was serious, and to be honest, I felt a little disheartened after breaking the news to them. But then again, I've shared a million crazy ideas with them that have never morphed into anything real, have changed my projected occupation at least 15 times, and tend to be a fly by the seat of your pants kind of girl. I'm not sure if I even thought I was serious back then. But, the research continued, and the love and fascination grew. They finally warmed to the idea, probably after they saw how passionate, knowledgeable, and on my way to being prepared I was. I started talking about it nonstop, sharing all of the cool facts I learned, my plans, and dreams with them whenever they were around. My sister received the brunt of it, but she always listened, even when I started tripping over my words out of excitement. I can't say the exact moment when they realized that I was REALLY going to move to Alaska, but they finally believed me.

I told Stephanie about my plan one balmy September day around sunset as we drove to the movie theater in her old Mustang, top down. "NO WAY" she said in her ever enthusiastic tone of voice.
"I've ALWAYS wanted to live in Alaska and be a kayak guide and, and, AHH!"
"You're kidding!!!" This was too good to be true. My best friend, travel partner and kindred spirit also had a passion for this land.
"Come with me!" I proposed, and that was that.

September was also the month that I started talking about my plan to my friends and co-workers in the office. The word spread quickly, and soon enough it seemed like everyone knew that I wanted to move to Alaska. Suddenly, co-workers would approach me every day asking me about my plans. "Why Alaska?" almost every one of them would say. "Why not?" I'd respond. I'd explain that was going to go to school there, to have an adventure, leave Albuquerque before I get stuck and stagnate in the only hometown I've ever known. They'd look at me like I was completely out of my mind, and many would flat out tell me.

The the jokes started, the nicknames, the "warnings" and advice, all mostly based on misconceptions about Alaska, particularly Southeast Alaska. I realize that I'm describing this a little brashly. It wasn't that bad, and I deserved it for opening my mouth about it 7+ months before my projected move date. I got a lot of positive feedback, support, and good advice, too. I enjoyed talking about it with some of my co-workers. But ultimately it felt like I was being laughed at day in and day out. I'd come home in tears some days, feeling completely dejected, worn to the bone from defending myself, Alaska and my plan. Was it really such a crazy idea? I'd laugh about it at work, take jokes because some of them really were funny, openly talk about it with whoever approached me that hour, try to explain that almost everything some of them knew was completely false, like nothing but darkness most of the year, and -60 degree temperatures in Juneau. They threw all of the negatives in my face, and I tried to shoot the positives back. Some told the customers I was working with, and then complete strangers would take a jab at me. "Don't do it." I distinctly remember one man telling me. It's not like I was asking them to move up with me! I'm young and free, what's the issue?

I doubt anyone realized that I was feeling barraged, and at the time, I thought I was just being overly sensitive. But the last few months were hard for me at work. I regretted saying anything at all, at least not until the move was closer. "How much longer" was another one I heard when I got closer to leaving. I didn't mind this one, because it also reminded me that I was almost there. In the end, when everyone heard that I put my two weeks in and was leaving early, I felt a wave of support and excitement. I was actually doing it.


Through it all, I have learned that some people have that adventurous spirit, and many don't.

Domestication

I love this house. I love the way the sun shines through the livingroom window, creating a warm square of sunshine on the carpet. I love the way it's nestled against a mountain, next to other equally adorable homes. I love that it's a house I would have driven by and envied as a child. If and when life takes me away from Juneau, at least I'll know that I lived in my dream house for a little while.

I had so much fun unpacking and setting everything up with Steph. Luckily, we have the same taste as far as design and aesthetics go, so it was easy to come to agreements on what should go where. One room is still a work in progress, temporarily full of bikes, an extra love seat and other things being stored. I plan on turning it into a darkroom as soon as I have a steady source of income and can afford to buy the necessary things that I am missing, like photo paper and chemicals. I can't wait to get back to photography. It's a passion I think I'll always have, even if I box it up and push it away now and again.

I went around snapping pictures of the various rooms in the house now that it's put together today. I'll put them in order of how you'd see the rooms if I were giving a tour :)


Note the old snowshoe and coonskin hat hanging on either side of the entry way!




The glass buoy we picked up in Florence, Oregon fits perfectly in my Dad's metal coffee table/sculpture, and the sun shines through it making it glow.






My favorite wall.


The red owl, a nightlight of sorts, was a gift from my mom and stepdad this past christmas. I love it so much that I always keep it lit up, and decided that it's purpose is to guard the house from negativity.








These little guys survived the trip all the way from NM! They're having trouble adjusting to the weather, but so far it hasn't killed them.


Chili pepper ristra, a going away present from Jeannette, now hanging proudly in the dining room! It got a little smashed in transit but still looks good.


























The mirror is way off center, but in my defense it was hard to hang!

We finally had a fire last night. We bought bundled wood at walmart, since we couldn't chop our own, and the only other place a local told us about only sells logs by the truckload. Hmm. We had to scoop all of the ashes out of the fireplace first, which it seemed had never been done prior to last night. Gross. We had it lit for a few minutes before it petered out. Our fire lighting skills definitely need some improvement, but practice makes perfect I suppose.



The zipline job doesn't look like it'll work unfortunately. I'm bummed, but I'm glad to have other options, like that interview I have next week, as well as a number of other state positions I applied for whose announcements are closing in the next couple of days. Hopefully those will bring a couple of interviews too.

I want to share this with you all:

"Alaskan and Proud to be". I get a kick out of this sign every time I see it. It also happens to be the grocery store nearest to our house! After spending a ridiculous amount of money on organic food at the small natural food store downtown our second week here, we quickly realized that unless we made our food budget equivalent to our rent budget, all organic wasn't going to happen. So, A&P it is. There are three other large food stores in Juneau- a Costco, Walmart and Fred Meyer. Fred Meyer is the biggest store I've ever seen, and they sell EVERYTHING under the sun. It has a big clothing section, shoes, electronics, outdoor gear, furniture, garden center, yadda yadda. It's outrageous, but I'm thankful for it's similarity to Target without going as bulky as Costco, or dipping as low as Walmart (which is actually less trashy and crawling with the dregs of society in AK than in NM).
I've noticed that everyone goes shopping on the weekend, and people go to multiple stores in a row, so sometimes you'll see the same people you saw at the last store you were at.

We've been planning meals weekly, eating salads for lunches, and trying to be really healthy and get in a lot of veggies and fresh stuff. My mother tired to convince me that they didn't have fresh produce in Alaska to keep me in NM, but there's actually pretty decent stuff up here, so there mom ;) Giant grapefruits, crunchy snap peas etc. A wonderful bakery/restaurant called Silverbow, located downtown, sells their breads and cookie dough at the grocery store. I also have a breadmaker, and am planning on making bread with that. Food is definitely more expensive up here compared to the lower 48. In the store, the extra .25, .75 cents, or 1.00 doesn't seem like that much. However, when you hear the total at the checkout counter, it's a different story. Yikes!



Whew, that was a lot. In the next post I'll put pictures of the yard and woods behind the house, which we explored a little today.

Here, now.

In the past few days, I've finally begun to get a little more active in exploring my new home. Finally! I guess it comes with the feeling that this place is my home, no longer just a place that I am visiting.



We walked to the gym down the road a few days ago, a 15 minute walk, and both got a membership at Goals Gym. Right next door to the gym is an old historic cemetery called Evergreen Cemetery. It was established in 1887, according to Wikipedia, and is now operated by the Juneau Department of Parks and Recreation. It was nearing dusk when we wandered into the cemetery from the sidewalk. Many of the older gravestones were cracked, broken, covered in moss, and so worn that you could barely make out the inscriptions. Wandering about a cemetery is not something I do recreationally, not even back in my "wear all black and listen to Rammstein" days, but it was really interesting reading the headstones, finding the dates and trying to picture an even smaller Juneau in the late 1800's. The cemetery is a beautiful plot of land just outside of the downtown area. A lush, grassy hill rolls down towards the channel, and it's speckled with trees and shrubs. Houses now line almost the entire perimeter, save for a few openings. An elementary school is across the street, and, as mentioned, our gym is right beside it. Out the window, you can see a small corner with a few uprooted gravestones. If it weren't for the coffins in the ground, you could almost call it a park!












We found Russian writing on a number of headstones in a small area of the cemetery.


A nice shot from the walk back home.

I must say, it's a dream to live in a place where you aren't afraid for your life if you take an evening stroll through your neighborhood. Many of the homes in Downtown Juneau, or right around where we are, are situated on a hill. The roads are very steep and wind around the neighborhoods, exposing fantastic views. To be able to walk to my gym is also amazing! The last house I was living at in NM was within walking distance to the gym I went to, but I just could not break that uncomfortable feeling I had walking at night in Albuquerque. I don't think it was an irrational fear, either. So hooray for feeling safe! The only thing I fear when walking here are bears stumbling out of the forest along the road. That has yet to happen... knock on wood..

And



This man.

Ok, so I don't fear this man, but he is certainly a strange character. We've nicknamed him Old Man Ted. Ted, for short, lives two houses down from us, on the opposite side of the street. Since the day we moved in, we've noticed that he walks his small Boston Terrier multiple times a day up and down the street, and always wears the same hat and jacket. Normal behavior, except that he appears to be infatuated with us and our house. He walks on the opposite side of the street most days, peering into our two big dining room windows as he slowly makes his way up the street a house or two, and as he makes his way back down. The peer is more like a stare. We've caught him looking in when we're both at the table eating, when one of us is at the desk working, or when we're in the living room watching him out another window. He doesn't look in any other houses or window. Today, Steph was at her computer and saw him walk in front of the house, stop, get up on his tippy toes, look in our window, swiveling his little head back and forth. Once he realized that he was being watched, he looked to the ground and went on his way again.
A couple days ago, I was loading something into the car, and he suddenly appeared, walking along the sidewalk in front of the car port, staring at me. "Hi.." I ventured. He uttered a grumble of some sort, possibly a salutation? And I hurried back in to the house. WEIRD! Next time I am face to face with Old Man Ted I am going to try and start a conversation. He must want something from us! But what??


In other news, yesterday marked a historic event, for it was my first hike in Alaska! Way overdue, but I've been so busy and exhausted that it just hasn't been able to happen. We consulted our book "90 Short Walks Around Juneau", which is the only trail guide for this area on the market. It also has a number of longer hikes, in addition to short walks. Tired from our first day back at the gym, we chose a short hike through a historical old goldmine site called Treadwell Mine. The trail branched off in several places and was either poorly marked or we missed something. It wasn't very long or strenuous, but it was our first hike, so we were going to enjoy it regardless. Lining the trail on both sides were the abandoned ruins of the old mining operation, which closed down in the 1920's. Rusted pieces of metal and machinery, and crumbling, decaying buildings were strewn all along the trail, slowly being reclaimed by the rainforest. I wonder why no effort was made to clear the area of all of this junk metal. I suppose people think it's interesting to see the ruins, and I was certainly interested, but it almost hurts to see such pristine forest littered with rusty scrap metal. Still, the forest was beautiful, green and thick with the smell of springtime. We wandered around the decaying buildings for a while until we heard an eerie drumming sound coming through the forest and decided to head back. I also decided on a personal goal to strive towards while living here. I want to get over this paranoia I have when hiking. I'm tired of being fearful of nonexistent things lurking in the woods around me! I mean, hiking is something I love to do. Why should I do it with a string of paranoia attached?








these strange yellow flowers are springing up in marshy areas all around Juneau. No idea what they're called though!


















Looking back at Juneau from the parking lot. I put a red dot on where our house is!

News from the job front! I have a second interview with the Alaska Zipline Adventures company. I will be meeting with the owners of the company on Sunday, and I'm really hoping it goes well.
I also have an interview on Thursday for a nonprofit called Hope Alaska, which provides direct support services to people of various ages with various disabilities and levels of disability. I applied to be a direct care professional, working with someone with a disability, helping them with daily life skills like grocery shopping, participating in community activities, and recreational activities. I think that it would be very rewarding, but tough work. I've never done anything like it, so I was surprised to even get an interview. There are some pros and cons with the position. Pros like a set schedule, full benefits, pretty good hourly wage. But there are also cons, like the challenge, emotional and physical, that comes with working with people with disabilities. I'm not sure if I'm even strong enough to do that kind of work. It is because of this that I have decided to take the zipline position if it is offered to me. Although the zipline guide position also has it's cons, like a shifting schedule and the fact that it's temporary, I have to remember why I came to Alaska. I came for adventure, to strengthen my relationship with the natural world, and to have FUN. Fun! While don't doubt that any other job I get wouldn't be kind of fun, I want a job that is exciting and ever changing and runs in the same vein as my other interests, things that make me happy and feel complete.