Kayaking Happy Hour

(I welcome your comments and questions through the "comments" option below any entry. --Laura)

I love to hear the rhythmic slap of lake water pushed by the breezes toward our little dock.  Floating around the lake in one of our kayaks, sometimes with a book, sometimes with my husband, is a frequent, leisurely pleasure. 

During the summer months, even if it was foggy in the morning and raining during the day, it invariably clears up around Happy Hour.  Often, but particularly if we have felt cooped up earlier in the day, we will grab  glasses of home made beer and wine and some peanuts, turn the tandem kayak over and have happy hour on the water.  Usually, we will paddle upwind to the far "corner" of the lake and then drift back toward home, betting on how close we'll get to our dock with no adjustment whatsoever.  From that far corner, if it is particularly clear, looking past our cabin, we can see Denali and Denali's Wife, otherwise known as Mt. McKinley and Mt. Foraker.  These are the brightest white of any natural effect I have ever seen, other than expansive cotton fields in the South.  Since the peaks often rise above a lower layer of clouds, they appear to float, like giant wedding cakes.  Really breathtaking. 

How a High Rise Couple Ended up Living in an Alaskan Log Cabin - The Purchase

(I welcome your comments and questions through the "comments" option below any entry. --Laura)

In 2002, my husband and I took the Inside Passage cruise where he fell in love with Alaska.  Soon he was reading blogs about the state, and engaging in conversation any folks who had lived there.  He even invested in a business near Juneau.  I bought him a subscription to Alaska Magazine so he could coo over its gorgeous photos.  Soon, he started reviewing real estate listings for remote properties, none of which looked particularly realistic to me, given that we lived in a high-rise in Houston, TX and lacked the funds for the attractive or even the ramshackle log cabins featured in the listings. Still, if he was enjoying internet real estate “porn” instead of other websites, it seemed like a harmless enough diversion. 

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Four years later, when he was particularly missing the state, he decided to return to Alaska with his dad for some fishing and good father/son time.  I immediately called my dear father-in-law and prevailed upon him to ensure that Bryan would NOT buy any property without my seeing it first.  This was an ironic request since this is exactly what my father-in-law had done to my incensed mother-in-law decades before, when he returned to their suburban Chicago home after a weekend of hunting with the announcement that he had just bought a 140 acre tree farm in the middle of Wisconsin!  After their fishing trip, Bryan was ecstatic.  He regaled me with delightful stories of their flying into a different fishing camp every day or so, of the lovely scenery they had seen, and the down-to-earth people they had met.  He returned with the thrill of the hunt to his remote real estate websites, trying to entice serious enthusiasm from me for what I still regarded as his version of a fantasy football game.