Travel: I moved to... Alaska

I was in a kayak, gliding across a blue-green glacier-fed lake known for its salmon fishing when I saw my first bear. My hair was wet and I was wearing my husband’s ski clothes because I had already fallen in the freezing water on my first attempt to climb in. So it was with a wounded ego and goose bumps that I set out to explore the serene lake and shoreline. Shortly after leaving the dock, the silence was interrupted by the cracking of branches and a loud splash: this time it wasn’t me. I followed the noise around the corner and found a grizzly, fishing for sockeye salmon. His hair was wet and matted to his skin, making him look more comical than foreboding. He had a quizzical look in his eyes as he watched us approach, but then he quickly returned to fishing. We sat there in the kayak staring at him until he took off with his catch.

I moved to Haines, Alaska, population 1,800, after taking a cruise on a small passenger ship through the southeast of the state. I fell in love with all the life on the water, the constantly changing sky and the rainforest with its spongy lichen floor. I met my husband on that trip and we moved up here shortly after we were married. It’s been a tough transition; moving from Dallas, Texas, one of the most populous cities in the U.S. to one of the remotest. Life is much simpler here and very rustic. Sure, there are days when I miss nice restaurants and wish I hadn’t traded in my high heels for rubber boots. But when I look in the freezer at the 100 pounds of salmon that we caught and the jam I made from strawberries we picked in the summer, I have a sense of pride that comes with living off the land.

When we’re not hiking, halibut fishing, bear spotting and working, we spend much of the summer preparing for winter: we fish for salmon in a small skiff on the Chilkat river using a gillnet. Sporting rubber suits, gloves and hats, we pull sockeye out of the cold water before filleting the fish at the dock. We eat some of the bright pink salmon during the summer and the rest we vacuum seal for winter. We pick fruits and vegetables from the organic farm across the street and wild blueberries from Sunshine Mountain to eat with our fresh catch. My husband makes sourdough bread and on those days I think we eat better than most restaurants I’ve been to.

As most people know, summer days are long in Alaska – up to 18 hours in June – so we try to pack them pretty full. For exercise, I run with our Bernese Mountain Dog and a bottle of bear spray. I haven’t needed to use it yet and I’m hoping I never will. I don’t have to lift weights anymore because we chop and stack wood most of the summer. The wood stove in our living room is the source of heat in both the summer and winter. That means we need a lot of firewood. When my brothers came up to visit we gave them the full Alaskan experience by providing a chainsaw, axe and plenty of logs. They went home with stories to tell and sweat on their brow and we got our wood chopped.

Winter comes with an onslaught of rain starting in October. Most people look forward to this time indoors as a chance to get things done that they’ve neglected during the bright summer days. I, however, go a bit stir crazy and try to get out of town until the first snowfall. I didn’t think Alaska could be any more beautiful than it is in the summer sun until I saw it in the winter with the fluffy white snow covering the mountains and riverbed. When we’re not shoveling snow and ploughing the driveway, we can really take advantage of our life here. There are trails packed down for snowshoeing and cross-country skiing. I have been learning to snowboard, which entails hiking up the mountains in the Yukon Territory and taking hours to complete just one run. We go jogging during the day in -20 degrees with our eyelashes freezing, and then spend nights reading by the fire with Alaskan beer from the local brewery.

Alaska is an amazing place. Our life here feels like an adventure. It is no wonder that after eight days on a summer cruise watching humpbacks feed, sea otters swim on their backs eating urchins, and puffins popping out of the water, I was hooked. I just didn’t expect to find so much of the same excitement and joy in the winter here. When people ask me how I can possibly handle the darkness and cold, I wink at my husband and just tell them how difficult it is. After all, if everyone knew how magnificent life can be up here, it would be just like the rest of the lower 48 states.

To find out more about Haines, Alaska, visit www.haines.ak.us/index.php

Have you moved somewhere remote or unusual? Email us at hello@wideworldmag.com