Considering what’s unfurled in the past few weeks, it’s surprising I feel so much positivity as I complete the last few tasks I have up here and head back to Anchorage to catch an 8am flight back to Denver tomorrow. 
Two weeks ago, my mother had a pulmonary embolism following her foot surgery. It has made for an anxious couple of weeks; I was supposed to meet her in Myrtle Beach next Monday, and when I asked her about informing the doctor of her travel plans, she said she was just not going to tell anyone. My mother is wildly optimistic; perhaps even idealistic to the point of absurdity. I had read quite a lot on the internet and was 95% sure she would be told not to travel, but everyone in my family is stubborn af, so I’ve been waiting patiently for her to go to her checkup. She was finally told today she can’t go (she told her doctor after I threatened to call every hospital in Pennsylvania to rat her out).
Initially I had planned to drive out there just to have a beach week by myself (my mother had decided to join later on), but I canceled in solidarity. I will return to Colorado tomorrow, take the rest of the week off, and then return to work. The drive from CO to SC sucks ass… it is so tremendously boring, and my 4Runner isn’t exactly fuel efficient.
While the prospect of anything (ever) happening to my mother fills me with dread and fear, the silver lining of canceling this trip is that I will be coming back to AK in late August, for an entire week, to hike, and play, and possibly fish. I had not anticipated returning again this summer, but I have to. I was not here long enough, and I am not done.
I may never be done. 
Even coming here to another mess left by my winter tenants, my little house looks beautiful now after days of scrubbing, cleaning, rearranging. I had one afternoon to hike and I chose the most miserable one in our immediate proximity: Bird Ridge, which is basically straight up and down. I figured the ridgeline would be mostly clear of snow as it is exposed, and most of our other trails are still snowed in. My trusty hiking partner of the last decade+ changed her plans to meet me up here. We huffed it right up that bitch and back down in :30 under the typical time, even though she is only a few months recovered from major surgery and while I am acclimated to altitude, I am not acclimated to Alaska-intensity hikes.
We returned to town, ate most of a giant pizza and I soaked in my hot tub here at the house (I am still hobbling today). It was fucking glorious. I went back to Anchorage early this morning, renewed my 4Runner tags, ran a few last minute errands, and decided to book my next trip up here. The fact that I don’t have a ton of reservations for the summer was helpful. I feel so much better about leaving now. I told my mother on the way back to Girdwood that I had to come back, and she told me she figured I would.
So few people have been able to comprehend the love I have for this place. The day I pulled out of the driveway at my parents’ place so many years ago to embark on my relocation here is still the happiest day of my life: the level of confidence and mettle it took to do that only occurred to me years later. I remember going through the interview process for the job I accepted up here and knowing — truly knowing — I would get it, and my life was about to change in an unbelievable way. I laid in bed and cried tears of joy at night before I even returned to sign my job offer. Anathema’s Weather Systems will always remind me of that journey – the emotional one and the physical one. I still choke up on my way down the Seward Highway: I have always felt a lot of gratitude, but my life could end any day and I’d be so grateful for the time I’ve had to make this insane dream come true.
Ten years after making this place my home, after a cruel, inordinately lonely pandemic and realizing I would not be able to continue to challenge myself in my career if I lived up here indefinitely, I cried every day as I packed and prepared to leave. I knew it was the best thing for me, but it was not what I wanted. I never wanted to go back to the lower 48, and I mostly still do not want to be there. I have done well regardless, and am finally in a really good place in Denver after a pretty difficult transition. I have never struggled at all with change as most people do, but not one single molecule of me wanted to do what I did in 2022. It has truly been a process.
I had a beautiful but hard life up here; I spent many years contending with a lot of my past and figuring out how to create the kind of life, and the kind of person I wanted, and wanted to be. I spent time in every nook and cranny of this state: very few places did not make the long, long list of places I explored. I am often afraid my life will never be as good as it was here, and I will never be as happy, because I am so proud of this experience and what became of me. I remember walking into this house after I had signed all of the closing paperwork and realizing that this house was mine: that at 28 years old, I could see glaciers from my kitchen door and know I owned this tiny slice of somewhere I dreamt of for so long. I have loved few things in my life as much as I have loved this time in Alaska, and I feel bad for anyone who lives his or her life without the absolute awe I’ve felt up here.
And so, as I prepare to depart again, I at least can rest assured knowing I’ll be back in a few months. One of the longer term goals I had was to organize my life so that I could spend more time up here in the summer, and I’m surprised that I will accomplish that this year.
More on the rest of my life to come.
The first trip down I linked up with Juan and we hit up the tiny German-themed town of Helen and hiked up Blood Mountain the weekend prior; he accepted one of the offers on his house at the top of the mountain, so that was pretty cool. Colorado is nice but I honestly prefer the landscape along the Eastern Seaboard; I miss the lush greenery and the leaves even if the mountains aren’t as dramatic. 
Alaska is also much more lush than here (and the most beautiful of them all). Alaska has always felt wild to me instead of desolate; Colorado is desolate in its typical bleak way. It is brown as hell here, it gets old. We’ve had weeks of unprecedented rain in Denver these past few weeks, and now even the plains you fly over when you take off and land are green, which is pretty interesting. It won’t last… it’ll be 100 degrees every day soon enough, and the sun will feel like a nuclear blast.
I have been showing up to lift at 7am, coming home to shower and get ready and bomb out of my house in 25 minutes to get to the office. On days I don’t do that, I do UX coursework.
It’s often been a hard road, but it’s given me bottomless mettle and self-confidence in my ability to weather any storm. I’ve also thought a lot about how the people I encounter at this gym are the kinds of people I want in my life: people who push themselves constantly, and challenge themselves to be better, who are willing to face the music. People who are never finished becoming the best version(s) of themselves. How can I use this to further improve my quality of life, and that of others? A girl on my team recently told me that me being open about everything I’m doing has inspired her to rejoin Crossfit, as she couldn’t get started. That off-hand comment really meant a lot to me, that is the kind of shit I want more of in my life. I think it took me a long time to get into a good clip here in Denver, but I am definitely there now after a gradual upswing.
close friends here in Colorado, and that’s fine with me, but I am really pleased that I’ve had so much time with my out of state friends. I am really looking forward to getting back to AK for a few days as well: I expect to propose to Di we go on at least two soul-crushing hikes, 
one being Bird Ridge, which I absolutely hate, because there are hours of false peaks along the way. I may also opt to re-do the Alyeska Flake, though it’s unlikely we’ll be able to get up that high with so much spring snow; we’ll see what we can do. The last time I did that hike, I did it in a fasted state and my quads gave out on the way down which was a total pain in the ass and delayed us significantly. The prospect of having a few days with two of my favorite people back in AK is really exciting. Toward the end of June, another friend is coming down from Juneau to hit the Emperor show with me in Dallas and hang for a few days. Feeling pretty grateful.
but it proved to be ridiculous: only in the last week or so do I feel I have returned mostly to myself: biologically, mentally, intellectually, emotionally, philosophically… existentially. 2023 has been really fucking annoying so far.
I also resumed my very high intensity gym routine, so that’s been great: I’ve clocked over 600 active minutes a week for the past month or so, and that is bad ass. I decided to step up my bio-hacking and have folded more adaptogens and two different probiotics into my diet: one is 
I would not have seen myself, ten years ago, as someone who occasionally splurges on Korean beauty products, or puts carrot oil under my eyes, or uses a facial exfoliator in the shower, or puts a frozen eye mask on at 6am before my alarm goes off 18min later, but apparently I am one of those people now.
I booked all of my stuff for Dallas and am meeting some friends down there (and perhaps bringing one of the metalheads from here with me). I considered hitting up the Chicago show for my birthday as well (they are playing Jun 23) but I think I will do something else.
Given my severe lack of sleep and puffy, greying raccoon eyes at that point, I was persuaded to give beta blockers a try, and they have helped a lot. I have always been afraid of this stuff, despite it being one of the most commonly prescribed drugs in the Western world. 20mg of propanolol with 2mg of melatonin at bedtime has at least has allowed me to sleep over the past few weeks… and as of a few days ago, I am off both.
On the plus side, it sounds like the rescheduled event will happen here in Denver, which will make for a less insane January since I’ll already be spending the second week of the year back in Texas to hang over this team to their new manager (finally). My team also deserves the attention: I have the highest concentration of high performers of anyone in my group. In fact, I don’t spend enough time really taking in how insane it is that my team is so bad ass. We are actually beating most of North America in terms of key performance indicators. I hope I can promote at least 1/3 of my team in 2023: ideally half or more. They deserve it. They are not only good at their jobs, but they’ve become better-rounded, more cooperative, assertive but thoughtful people and I am proud AF.
In the past few weeks, my parents visited, I went to Dallas, I had an uncharacteristically festive Thanksgiving and decorated for Christmas (this is the first tree of my adult life, and it’s quite nice, actually). We also watched Dahmer during the long weekend, which was surprisingly revolting but very good. High recommend if you like to watch serial killer docs on your holiday break.
Soon enough, things will gradually calm down and I will spend the second half of December relaxing(ish) and, knowing myself, reflecting on a quite eventful year of change. It’s still mind-blowing to me that I’ve been here for nearly a year; I can’t believe how fast it has blown by, and I suppose at least part of it is that I have been too busy to be bored. Life is good, though, and while I am constantly grappling with what’s next, I have not ever felt I chose this step incorrectly. My father asked me if I still miss Alaska, and the answer is always yes, and will likely always be yes, but it was a good call to take a break and do something else. I also do not (yet) regret holding onto my house up there; I would be struggling a lot more emotionally if I had left nothing there to go back to.
He is more of a brother to me than a former roommate, or even friend, and conveniently one of his defense contractor buddies relocated to Denver at the same time I did, which meant he was visiting both of us here. Even more conveniently, we have become good friends in this past year, so we had a blast together. Matt (Anchorage) is in Djibouti now, and if I’m lucky I’ll see him again in the spring or summer.
We also drove up to Leadville, a little mining town that quite a few people have recommended to me, and it was an all around awesome day. Leadville is very Alaskan; remote and quite rough around the edges. There was a bar for sale on the main strip when we visited that the guys later chased as a lead for our imaginary future together, where we all live on a compound, they never have to grow up or assume any responsibility, and I run the business to keep us all afloat. If only. The bar sold before we could grab it, so I guess we’re all stuck in our present lives.
but it’ll have to wait until I get back to Denver. I did want to carve out some time to write while I’m back up here in the North, though I selfishly thought I’d have a bit more time to relax, and that has not been the case. I’m not very good at relaxing anyway, so I suppose I’ll live. I had originally planned to be up here for two weeks, and cut it down to one, so it’s my own fault in the end. Alas, here I am, sitting on a floor cushion pecking away on my opium table, my favorite spot in my favorite spot.
Leaving Alaska was bittersweet, being back here is like visiting your childhood hometown, the things you hate and things you love surfacing interchangeably. I feel more like that here than I do returning to the Catskills, which have changed so dramatically since I grew up there. The po-dunk mountain town I grew up in is basically a satellite colony of Manhattan and New Jersey now; Alaska will probably always be the same as I left it. AK is just too far for the hordes of city-dwellers from New York and California that have colonized Montana and Colorado and the other mountain towns of North America, and for that I am grateful. I think often of John McPhee’s Coming Into The Country, probably the most renowned read on Alaska history, and I think about all the people up here I’ve met over the years who talk about how different things are now. And they are, but subtly: change materializes slowly up here, excepting the weather.
despite the fact it’s appreciated in value by over $100,000. This little home is pretty special to me and I’ve renovated it piece by piece over the years from the wood paneling, laminate counters and cream-colored carpets it had when I bought it. It is now one of the nicest, most updated (and energy efficient) units in my complex. There are still things I want/need to do in the coming years: replace the washer/dryer, get rid of the dated textured walls and repaint, fix some of the trim… but every year I upgrade a few things to maintain its value.
Last night I ventured up to the high-end restaurant atop the mountain with a close friend; when I worked in this town, our resort at least had a cool culture, but almost all of the high quality people have moved on, and there is a void where there used to be a passionate, fun-loving, hard-working culture. I was the first of us to leave in 2014; there now remains one of the 8-10 person exec-level dream team.
The route from Myrtle Beach to Denver is 1,745 miles, and it would’ve been feasible to clock 1000 instead of 900, but 1000 is probably my limit. It’s not easy, but it’s doable. I realized on the way home I think I like these trips because (a) I love to plan, and the logistics of travel can be challenging, and (b) I am extremely goal oriented. Long drives require discipline and grit. 900+ miles in a day requires determination. I have all of those things, and I love to suffer to test my own endurance. I’d go so far as to say that’s why I’m here, in my life, in Colorado, in good health, why I haven’t crawled into a hole with booze or pills or God knows what else. Determination is also helpful in avoiding the descent into a homicidal rampage at the ineptitude of other drivers, who clearly have not heard of cruise control, and love to chill in the left lane driving under the speed limit.
I only took Friday off after failing to swim M-Thu (riptides, rain and other trash weather disrupted my plans), and Friday was windy and cloudy, but I did end up in the ocean, thankfully. I had the mornings to myself (in EST, working on MST), and I loved chilling on the balcony reading: I finished four books (more on that in my next post), and got enough down-time to sustain me for awhile. I went out there to swim as much as possible, as whatever micro-creepy crawlies the ocean has to offer do wonders for my skin, but I loved my time down there anyway and I’m grateful to have access to a beachfront condo to visit any time I please. One of the two happiest moments of my life was as a young kid, lying awake on a twin bed in my grandparents’ house on Long Beach Island while my sister slept in the bed next to me, smelling the bay breeze waft in through the windows and thinking to myself, “let me hold onto this.” Even as a kid I knew life was fleeting, years pass in an instant. Every time I’ve eaten an oyster in its salty water or walked out onto a dock in Alaska I’ve remembered those nights, gratefully awake, the smell of the sea.
I think I am fully out of whatever dark place I was trapped in for months, if not longer, feeling hopeless and empty and devoid of any direction, any value, any purpose. I took that trip to remind myself of who I was before the pandemic: a road warrior, a lone wolf, someone who just wanted to be out and immersed in the world, someone who rarely stopped moving, who wanted to see and experience everything. I have unbelievable appreciation for this country, for the different landscapes and people and histories of the different regions, and I have always been so fascinated by how other people live. One of the top pros of moving back down here was to be able to drive anywhere again, and I’m happy I prioritized that for myself: it’s still a huge part of who I am. I’m even grateful, seeing so many cars with blown out tires or broken down on the side of the road, to have a reliable vehicle, and a furry little derp to come along for the ride, and the funds to afford to take such a trip.
The nicest things about moving back down here have been the small pleasures: how comfortable the weather is, the herons and cormorants, the constant sunshine, even the wind. I still would put sitting outside in the sun with a book and slamming cocktails as among my top 5 favorite things to do; my house is comfortable, my neighborhood is quiet, Fuji is happy. My gym routine is working out well for me, and I’ve got 4lbs more to shave off before I hit my target range. I still feel pangs of… something, when I think about what I left to be here, and what those things meant to me over a decade of my life. Alas, it could all be a lot shittier here, and it’s not. I spent $100 on a set of baller wind chimes that I can hear from inside and you’d think it’d take a lot more to make someone happy in the moment. Not so.
It seems that it was a long time ago I was thinking about driving to South Carolina, and flying back up to AK, and those trips are coming up fast. I still feel a deep sense of ‘what’s next?’ in my life, but it’s slowly dissipating as I ramp up socially and make more plans. I moved here, more than anything else, to be closer to people, to see familiar faces more often, to have more people to talk to, and I have in 4 months managed to turn that into a pretty excellent reality. Maybe it’s OK to not know what the future holds. Maybe things just need to not be lonely and depressing af first. Everything was so epically beautiful where I was (this is not ‘the grass is always greener’ rationale, because a lot of things sucked up there) – but in returning to the lower 48, I’ve become a willing participant in a kind of lifestyle I hate: 9-5, commute to the office, etc. This is not my long-term plan. I do not want this kind of life with any kind of permanence. I am making the best of it, for now.
I showed up here barely knowing anyone, and I’m charmed by how many solid people I’ve already collected, not to mention the many people who have already stopped in to spend time. My former roommate’s coworker relocated to Denver as well, shortly after I did, and we’ve been spending Sundays drinking Bloody Marys in my yard and I’m grateful one of my favorite people managed to gift me another quality friend. I hosted a small-ish house party on Saturday to get to know some of the local metalheads, I’ve had a number of work and personal-life visitors, including my sister and her husband, and a close friend from the Catskills. Juan came in for the Amorphis show, a long-time friend from Albany is flying out for our other friend’s band’s show over Memorial Day weekend. There are many great bands coming through, and I love that aspect of being back down here.
My social life overall is pretty full… I cannot complain. I even have really enjoyed getting closer to the Ukrainian on my team, and we are navigating the fine line between professional and personal relationships. Before I know it, it’ll be July, I’ll be packing for Europe, and maybe… just maybe… this whole depressing pandemic ordeal is mostly over, and I’ve emerged from this pretty dark, fucked up period of my life. I even caught up on WhatsApp with some people we met last time we were in Georgia and we’ll be meeting up for drinks in Tbilisi. For a pretty introverted, private person, I somehow manage to connect deeply with certain people and keep them around for years. I don’t know why people go out of their way for me, or remember me, or put in the work, but I am always grateful and feel a lot of love in the social sphere after all this time. So thank you all.
I’m signing over my condo to the heli-ski company full-time as of October, so this may be the first and last summer of remote coordinating vacation rentals. Depending on how my June trip shakes out, I may go back up there again before the end of the summer… we’ll see. I’m torn; I want to go to Jordan, I’d also really like to make an appearance in Sarajevo as it’s been a hot minute, so we’ll see. I’ve had some epic food adventures here in town over the months, and many more places to hit up, but all in good time.
The Chaos Path 