Cruising Altitude

When my friend Anne was 80, she told me the story of arriving at Galbraith Lake airport for the first time in the 70s. She said when she got off the plane and looked over at Sheep Mountain, she thought it was the most beautiful place in the world. Looking across that same valley this week while waiting for the plane, I can't help but agree.

Anne died a few weeks ago, and I smiled a sweet blessing to her yesterday afternoon as we taxied down that same gravel stip, took off and climbed to cruising altitude. Looking out on this scene, I gave thanks that she taught me that you can better yourself and have adventures all through your life -- once when embarking on a drive from Washington to Alaska with three small kids in the car, she took a side trip to Yellowstone -- and she went back to college in her 60s, got a degree and even worked a couple of years before she retired for good. She was a wonderful friend and role model.

The physical urgency of working in the far north makes each day new and immediate, and I can't believe it's been almost 20 years since I first got off the plane at Galbraith Lake. I'm a little surprised to find myself working out here again this year. It is hard to share the experience in words because there are so many superlatives. So cold. So dangerous. So beautiful. So dark, then`so light. So careful. So much kindness, consideration and caring.

I haven't really noticed that we've all been aging, but I feel it personally. There was a time when I could work 18 hours a day, day after day, but now I sometimes feel run down from long hours. I'm too old for this, I say with a laugh. I'm not done yet, but I doubt I will do it that much longer. I know I will grieve the day I leave for the last time. I draw great comfort from what I learned from Anne. It is pleasing for me to think that when I am 80, there's some chance I'll tell the story of being a young woman of 58 who worked in the stunning, violent, unforgiving, beautiful, amazing Arctic.

I will never forget Anne, or this mountain, or that how high you get in life is more about attitude than altitude. Happy Valentines Day (one day late) Anne, I love you.