My uncle's cabin is right next to a small, family owned resort and because of their characters and hospitality, my uncle and his wife are good friends with most of the staff members. They were all young people, but they love my uncle and aunt as good friends but with great respect. I believe this is in part because it is rumored through the staff members that my uncle won the land and right to build a cabin in a drunken poker game. He confirmed with my mother that it was absolutely not true, but I'm not sure if I believe him. Every night, they host loud dinners with a wide variety of people from different walks of life. These dinners were a time for stories, debates, discussions about Spinal Tap and tasteless jokes. One night, a woman shared a long story about when she almost lost her life while lost in a blizzard. The room was breathless, even though we all knew she survived.
My sister and I found ourselves once again the only teenagers in a hundred mile radius, like most family vacations, and we ended up embarking on small adventures every day that eventually studded my memories of the trip. Every morning we strapped on our hip waders and walked around in the frigid running river while picking up rocks to skip and discussing the logistics of seeing a bear. After a long walk that often ended with someone stepping in a deep spot and filling their boots with icy water, we began the activity that defined us the most: gold panning. My sister and I are used to the lovely lifestyle my mother's hard work has provided us with so naturally, gold panning appealed to us. Sarah had the easy job of scooping gravel and I had the backbreaking job of sifting the dirt out. Much to our surprise, we actually found a nugget of gold that is now in a safe somewhere. My mother was convinced my uncle planted it in an attempt to thrill us even more.
My uncle is an adventurous, wonderful man who hoped for nothing more than to find the adventurous Conlins inside my sister and me and nurture it until we ran just as wild as my mother and her siblings did in North Dakota. He took us on hikes and taught us to look at Alaska from your belly so you could see the diversity of plants and life in every inch of the state. He let me drive his old pickup truck through the river, and when he drove past my mother and sister standing by a puddle, he sped up and soaked them with icy mud water. He took us to an old cabin that the Alaskan pioneer, John Busia, lived in alone and was buried next to then helped us convince our mother let us stay a night in the cabin. We slept well until my mother convinced him we were dead and to go check on us early in the morning. I suspected he was proud that we stayed in the cabin the entire night (not a big feat since the sun is up well into the night anyway), but I knew he was proud when he secretly told the entire staff of the resort that we stayed in the haunted cabin. For the rest of the trip, young men asked us how two teenage girls could dare stay in a place so creepy, they wouldn't dare go there at night. We just smiled and shrugged, then proceeded to mock them mercilessly, since after all, we are our mother's daughters.
The one thing we refused to do was canoe. My uncle will never understand why.
On my birthday, my family created the most humble sixteenth birthday itinerary ever. My sister made me cupcakes and my aunt made cheesy hashbrowns. My uncle planned a trip in the Kantishna Air Taxi, which was a beautiful airplane ride that overviewed Alaska's glaciers on Mount McKinley. We went hiking and ate cake. The resort staff told me stories about them at age 16 and we laughed at their foolishness while I secretly hoped I wouldn't look back on myself and laugh (I do). After loyally playing Yahtzee for a decade, I got my first Yahtzee. Then shortly after, my second and third Yahtzees. My uncle didn't try to make us canoe. The day was humble, beautiful, simple. It was everything Alaska is.
Four men play cards in a gas station in the middle of Alaskan Wilderness. Much to my surprise, I was spotted while taking my picture.
My father stops the car to look at the mountains up close.
It was an ominous drive, but beautiful anyways.
The mountains and clouds kiss and make mist.
My uncle's yard is decorated with some old toys.
The wonder in looking at Alaska on your belly.
The mudroom of John Busia's haunted cabin.
My uncle and his Kantishna Air Taxi baseball cap (my father would later buy one in a rust color).
Harmless vandalism makes nearby grizzly bear families hilarious.
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A woman tells her near death experience over drinks as the sun finally sets.
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