The Trip North


I’d like to start off by saying that I am an excellent procrastinator. Hence why I’m sitting in Mexico writing about Alaska. Even while I’m regretting my procrastination of my stories in Alaska, I am procrastinating a job that’s earning me free stay in Mexico. I procrastinate on procrastinating, and when I should be packing for adventures, I have a tendency to creep on hummingbirds. They’re much more interesting than packing.

As I gathered my gear for the season, they were outside gallivanting. How could I resist? If one could understand what hummingbirds are saying, everything would translate to curse words. Everything. They’re so angry, and yet so small… just little packages of rage. So I spent about three hours watching them and laughing at their pointless feuds instead of packing. PFD, helmet, rescue tether, male Anna’s, fleece pants, female Anna’s… male violet throat, female violent throat…….. rufous hummingbird: the king of anger. It was game over for packing.






I’d like to add, that male rufous hummingbirds are in such desperate need of anger management courses that they never sit still, taking every action from every other bird as a critical insult to its mother, leaving me incapable of capturing that gorgeous green body and flaming orange throat.

Eventually, I packed. Eventually, I hit the road. And 10 hours later, I was in Portland with the incredible friends that let me infest their couch last year. Hood River followed, and then Seattle, days in British Columbia, and a few in Yukon too. Ahead rested Fairbanks and two hours further: Denali.


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