I’m a Caucasian woman of Italian descent, and I’m jealous. Not of the hardships that Alaska Natives have endured, but of their rich culture and understanding of the natural world that is engrained in their heritage—and seems to be—instilled in utero. The Native traditions and spiritual quests we (non-Natives) now revere, put on display, and at times exploit, are the same ones we once tried to strip away. Most of us visit Alaska to be a part of things missing from our ordinary, day-to-day lives. It’s not so farfetched to say that by getting closer to the land and the wildlife inhabiting it, that we are searching for what Alaska Natives possessed long before our missionaries came on the scene: a deeply felt connection to all living things. It can’t be learned or earned through an iPad app, a Starbucks latte or buying a new car. If it could, perhaps we’d all stay at home in the heated comfort of our homes binging on episodes of “Orange is the New Black” on Netflix.
I'm a "nester"—one of those people who travels in a car or on a plane with my backpack sandwiched between my feet. It doesn't matter that the space I occupy is only large enough for a three-year old, or that I can't stretch out my legs because my bag is in the way.
The newest video from our sister publication The MILEPOST <http://www.themilepost.com/> features the construction of the "ALCAN" Highway. Work on the pioneer road officially began on March 9, 1942. As you can imagine, working conditions were extreme: "Working 7 days a week, they endured mosquitoes and black flies in summer and below zero temperatures in winter. And the farther away from base camp you were, the harder the living conditions."
Skiers from Alaska Pacific University get in some distance training at Hatcher Pass, which is located in the Talkeetna Mountains, northwest of Palmer.
By Allison Hovanec After getting hitched at the Anchorage courthouse this summer, my husband and I pondered an out-of-state honeymoon. It was early August and the weather had turned favorable again, offering a respite from dreary rain that had stretched on for weeks.