MAYOR STUBBS // TALKEETNA, AK

31 May 2016 at 3:41pm • Talkeetna, AK

Today I drove a big yellow taxi to a town where the mayor is a cat. It's been a big day.

Here I am, updating Facebook while sitting alone at the Fairview Inn. It's (of course) a Notorious Bar, but I've lost my companion while Joe is at work. There are five of us sitting sporadically across the small bar; besides the bartender I'm the only girl, and probably the only one under the age of 50. The street outside is hopping with tourists, but inside is muggy and quiet. As I'm reading my book (about bars, of course) a gangly looking man with lopsided glasses walks in. "TONNNNYYYYYY". I am also the only one who doesn't know Tony. The other silent bar-goers start yelling tales of their lives across the bar as I creepily listen in. If only to be a regular in a bar in a town with a population of 876 in the middle of Alaska... where the mayor is also a cat. 

A few beers later, I find myself wandering the dirt roads. A treasure trove of green ferns lead me to pure, unaltered silence among the river and mountains. Mt. Denali, the highest peak in North America, sparkles in the sunlight from 60 miles away. How wild is it that something like that caliber of beauty exists in the world and somehow I get to exist right along beside it? 

29 // HOPE, AK

We pull out of our campsite, hugging the curb on a dirt road. Joe pulls a dollar bill out of his pocket with a safety pin on it. "In New Orleans" he tells me, "the birthday girl gets to pin this to her clothes and people will come up to her all day and give her dollar bills... You don't have to wear it." With a tear in my eye (I'm overcome by the sentiment- is it too late to still blame the jet lag?) I pin George to my jacket.

We stop by a church. Er, former church. Now coffee shop/art museum/bookstore. I'm amazed that the little town of Seward has this, plus I can't remember the last time it was chilly enough to drink hot chocolate on my birthday. 

The same time last year I was driving along the Natchez Trace, tears filling my eyes as I drove into the foggy hills of Tennessee. I can't remember the details, but the aforementioned maybe-loved dude was the culprit. This year, we drive back on Alaska 1, heading towards a little town called Hope, a former gold rush town, nestled in the mountains by the sea. "Hope is one of my favorite towns in the world." This resonates with me as we walk down green paths, canopied by birch trees, the mountains in the distance. I'm thinking this birthday will be hard to beat next year.

 

MIDNIGHT SUN // SEWARD, AK

Guess what time it is?
10:15.
10:30!

The sun still blazons across the mountain behind us. Soft pink clouds float around as we just begin to start a fire, s'mores ingredients at the ready. We slowly but surely get shitfaced under the midnight sun, still joking around that neither one of us were prepared for the sun to be out all day, but we should continue making the most of it (mostly by drinking). We recount our day as the daylight slowly fades as the fire grows brighter. Joe anxiously checks his phone. Every few minutes he pulls out his little Blackberry, until finally we reach midnight; "HAPPY BIRTHDAY HANNAH."

We spent the my last day as 28 atop of snowy mountains. We ventured to Kenai Fjords National Park and tried to find the path less traveled by the troves of tourists and their young children. I wasn't anticipating to getting to (and pardon my technical lingo) "the snowy parts", but it took us less than two hours to get there, and my chubby ass can take pride in saying that. We kept going; we passed several other climbers, clad in pyjama pants and Chicago Bears caps, telling us we'll have to turn back if we are not prepared for the snow (we weren't). I was only wearing tennis shoes, capri leggings, and a t-shirt, and somehow I had found myself trekking through mud, waterfalls, and snow, still clinging to life.

There was some force that made us keep going; we followed the orange flags peaking from underneath the snow until they abruptly ended at the foot of a steep hill. Thinking that was all we could do for the day, we hear a faint "Hi friends." We look up to see an Indian couple sitting at the top of the hill on a rock. "Come up, friends! Just climb like a bear" while we see their blackened silhouettes making the roaring motion of a climbing bear. About half way up I realize my mistake: bears have claws and lots and lots of fur. I have skin that's prone to coldness and I bite my nails. By some miracle of God, I made it to the rock.

I can't remember how long we sat there. As the cliche says, 'Time stood still' although it definitely did. The brightness certainly was a factor, but it was so quiet; there were no birds chirping, and the couple had vacated their rock for us, so there was no one else around. There we were, on top of the world and we sat there giving each other fun facts about state trivia (What are the 4 states in which their capitals share the same first letter?). I presume this is normal mountain talk; it's certainly normal for Joe and me, and I'm thankful that I have a nerdy, kindred spirit to talk about the US, especially on top of a mountain. We call it and try and make our way back down. It was much harder than I anticipated, and the short version is, I had to succumb to the slippery snow, sliding down on my butt trying to catch myself with my hands, a foot deep in snow. "Your face says, this is happening and there's nothing I can do about it", Joe quips. I laugh along, but it would be a couple hours until I could feel my hands again. 

Millers Landing. I can only assume that at one point this was some sort of compound for a cult (I joke with an employee about this fact. He kind of gave me one of those weird smiles that says, "Yes, you're right, but I don't want my boss seeing me tell you this". Thanks anyway, Cal), but now it's one big camping site. For as big as Alaska is, I feel like we were all jammed together: tent campers, RVers, cabin goers all snug on a little piece of land by the bay. Thankfully we were the latter of those three, but it was wild to walk around, being so involved with other people's lives. 

The evening was still bright so we could easily see sea lions frolicking in the ocean while bald eagles flew overhead (this flowy nature-y scene did in fact happen, and it was enough to put a lump in my throat). We drank our beers and skipped stones while the sun still bounced off the mountaintops. 

Back at the fire, I'm spending the first few minutes of my birthday dumping out my emotional purse. Poor Joe; he has to sit here and listen and he's too nice to stop me. I ask if my crazy emotions in relation to a boy can translate into being in love, but Joe doesn't have an answer either. I think my teenage self would be disappointed in current me- not having any part of her life together, stumbling over words when talking about a dude, sloppy drunk while cramming my face full of s'mores. That being said, I think she would be impressed that I am in Alaska. 

HOPELESS WANDERER // ARKANSAS, ALABAMA, TENNESSEE, AND THE GREAT TALE OF MUMFORD & SONS

123 hours of travel time (5.125 days), 10 different cities in 3 different countries, countless tears shed, many laughs had, one shot of whiskey with Ted, two sweaty hugs with Winston, sun-kissed cheeks and noses, many dollars spent on merchandise (and beer), discovering small American towns and ancient European cities. It's funny to think my history with the band started in a giant, travelling hot dog; it's nice to know the journey continues to be just as wild and ridiculous. I’m happy to know the past 6 years with this band has been one of the greatest adventures of my life. 

LITTLE ROCK, ARKANSAS

I ask for a local beer to make myself seem cool. Bartenders like that, right? I can't get any pizza because all I've had are fiber protein bars and I feel like I will shit out all of my insides. Christ. I look around. Is it super noticeable that I'm awkwardly alone? It's probably super obvious. 

I sit in a Little Rock pizzeria, counting down the painfully slow minutes. I'm surrounded by couples and groups of friends, all most likely attending the same show that I will be. I sit there alone, uncomfortably crossing my legs, smeared lipstick, looking deeply involved with my phone. I'm texting him. I told myself I wouldn't, but here we are. He doesn't respond, and I feel even more alone. 

****

2010. Chicago. I thought I had liked him, but I suppose the only reason we dated is because he was the first guy ever to be remotely interested in me. The reality is, I hated him. But I always felt obligated to stay. I would listen to the band on repeat, singing of romance in the most beautiful way. I thought it couldn't be reality because my relationship wasn't like that. It would take me some months, but I finally realized that maybe they were right. The blizzard of 2011 was spent inside, curled up in a ball, the boy being ditched, but my pillow was still damp with tears but being assured through the lyrics of After the Storm that everything would be okay. He was gone, but I wasn't alone. 

BIRMINGHAM, ALABAMA

I anxiously check my phone. 12:57. I wait. 12:59. What

I hate to admit this isn't the first time I've met a stranger off the internet. But this time it's from a Mumford and Sons fan site... she won't like, murder me, right? And this one said she'd bring me alcohol. I suppose that doesn't sound much better. However, I set off this year in hopes to have new experiences and to meet new people, so what the hell. What I was hoping for was someone to wait in line with me so I can be in the front, but what met me outside of BJCC was a purple haired, 31-year-old mother. She didn't much feel like waiting in line for the show, but rather to sit outside, drink whiskey, and wait for the band. I tend not to do those things, I'm usually to shy and terrified that I will be annoying the band but, at least I had a friend to push me out of my comfort zone.

Hours go by; we have conversations about what songs the band has covered, Laura Marling and Bear's Den, and the copious amounts we're traveled just to see them. It's nice to meet other fans. The sun reddened our foreheads, and before too long we had shared hugs with Winston and whiskey with Ted. After the show we followed up with the other two and before I knew it, I had four shiny new signatures on my phone case, and enough stories to tell for a lifetime. 

****

2012. Birmingham, England. We had been crushed for hours. The band sung on a B stage in the back of the arena, but the drunken chavs behind his blocked the sound. Rania was crying and there was nothing I could do about it. I felt so guilty; I had convinced her to come. We had only met a few months earlier. We were waiting in line at Rough Trade East, her telling stories in her British accent and I was immensely confused as to why she kept talking about Oslo. It took me awhile to put two and two together to figure out she was from Norway. We had only known each other for a couple of hours before I told her of my plans of travelling to Birmingham to see them there. She whole-heartedly agreed to come with me. After the soul-and-literally-body-crushing night we redeemed it (a little) by meeting Marcus. From there on, we would see the band in London, Paris, and Lewes. But more importantly, I had found a friend; a kindred spirit and companion, if only to habitually promote my obsessive tendencies.

NASHVILLE, TENNESSEE

Mm. I think I took it too far. I think I scared him off. I tell him that I can be a bit... wild when surrounded by the band. He tells me to release the monster. His death wish!

The night started with moonshine and ended with whiskey. Lots of whiskey. Andrew had never seen the band and I had never taken a non-crazy Mumford fan to their shows, but it was actually entirely stress-free, spending our time in the back, dancing wildly. We do-si-do during I Will Wait and jump like crazy during The Wolf. We're joined by a lone stranger, displaying the same amount of firey energy and I close my eyes, raise my hands in the air, and scream; a mere excuse to be human. 

****

2010-2016. Chicago. London. Nashville. I never know anyone when I move to a new city; the only thing that keeps me company is the music I keep. Lone nights spent in, friendless and scared in a new city, normally resulted in me putting on a pair of headphones and dancing alone in my room to these tunes that I've heard so many times before. There's always going to be the music, and there's always going to shows and the people who make them so enjoyable, and there will always be the tears and nights spent alone. And they will always be there, the band that's stuck with me through and through for six years to entertain and to comfort.

Mumford and Sons, I'm yours. 

 

 

 

BIG SOUTH FORK // TENNESSEE & KENTUCKY

Let's call it over-exhaustion from working nine days in a row, or over-stimulation of being a mere five feet from Britney Spears that caused me to oversleep and miss my bus to Chicago. Luckily, I live in TN, and there's plenty of adventures to be had; hiking through secluded forests and hills, abandoned train bridges, and of course, my new little baby nephew Carper awaited me in Kentucky. 

LOOK UP // FALL CREEK FALLS, TN

When I was in high school, a group of my guy friends took spring break down in Tennessee. I couldn't help but wonder what on earth could have been in Tennessee, so I like the millennial that I am, I Googled it. I was entranced with page after page of green hills and brushy mountains, topped with the cities of Knoxville, Nashville, and Memphis. It almost perfectly matched my idea of "the perfect location" (something that I dreamt up when I was 10, and have been searching for for the past 19 years). I was enamoured. 

Flash forward, and here I am, living amongst the green hills and brushy mountains. For as small as Tennessee actually is, I have barely seen any of it. I've lived in Nashville for 2+ years and have only done about half of the sites and restaurants off of my bucket list. I've only driven through Knoxville and haven't even dreamt of going west of Nashville towards Memphis. But I simply cannot get enough of the continuous beauty of the hills out in the country. They seem endless and grow larger and larger until they spring up into the Appalachian mountains. 

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It's hard; I want the mountains in my backyard and the skyline in the front. I cannot choose between the life of constant stimulation in the city or relaxed exploration of forests and waterfalls in the country. For now, a drive out into the limitless scenery of Tennessee will have to suffice.