Oats in Alaska

Tuesday morning eased me awake in Haines, our final destination after a 1,932 mile cruise down the Alcan Highway. My argyle-clad body found itself sprawled out on a leather couch in a log cabin in the woods - a welcome cliché after below freezing nights spent outside. Silence prevailed and I celebrated with wiggling toes.



Drive up - hours and hours of this.

8 AM, I pulled on a skirt, nabbed my shoes, and headed outside to grab a few items from the overstuffed car. But, of course, right beyond the car was a dirt road and I had a wee bit of a hankering to go down it.

And that’s when my Magi-tendencies sunk in and took over.

If anyone here knows of the Feather, Boat, Tomato, and Balloon and Jason Webley, you would understand what I mean when I say I’m a feather through. I follow my feet and my feet like to carry on without hesitation, even when I ought to hesitate.

Each stretch lead to a turn and each turn to another bend and each bend was something I had to reach because you never knew what was around it and that was something I could not stand not to find out.
But, eventually, I got out of my head for a short enough time to realize it was time to head back. I had left without notice and Tyler had a ferry to catch and I didn’t know when.

On the way back, I skittered in full motion.

I let every whim carry my body from road shoulder to as high as I could leap.

Skittering isn’t just movement, it’s also a state of mind.
I relaxed and didn’t dismiss unrealistic notions.

In my mind, a sasquatch came to the end of the road, clambering over the snow, and he invited me back to his hut. I grabbed his hand and he led me through the woods. His fur was warm to the tips and it seeped into my body, keeping me at the temperature you reach when you’re in the middle of a hug. Back at his place, we curled paper strips and bonded over mugs of tea. When it was time for me to go, that’s when he seemed a bit dark  and I didn’t feel at full ease. But, I reminded myself that nothing could happen to me. He walked me to the street and he told me to come back. Without a hug or anything, I told him I would before walking on.

In my mind, the birds told me to take off my shoes. As my feet slipped easily from the leather, my body lightened and I was lifted into the air. I explored hovering and eventually let myself be lifted up and up to the top of a local mountain. There, at the top, the birds showed me a giant pipe sticking out of some rocks. I pulled the lever and fruit loops poured out with vivid colours to go with the crunchy texture. They informed me that any of the cereal that I ate would not stick with me. Even if I felt tip-top with satisfaction, the moment I flew away I would feel as hungry as before. It would be as if I hadn’t eaten. They showed me some smooth, flat, oval stones that, when I lifted, somehow produced all sorts of milk such as hemp, rice, coconut, almond, oat, and goat.

I was (politely) yanked back into reality when I came to a series of cars on the side of the road and a man removing the studded tires from an old Subaru as Haines transitioned from winter to spring. This was Brian. Brian was a wonderful man and even if I were capable of relaying our conversation here, it wouldn’t do him justice. He ended up walking me back to the cabin where Tyler was rooting around the car and I found that I had only been away for 57 minutes.

Breakfast was oatmeal with raisins and Tyler and Andrew are doing that thing they do where they make lovely music and whistle and sing and my ears like it.

And outside, it looks kinda like this in different places...