7/10/14
Anchorage, Alaska
Emotions are are rational responses to facts, nothing else. Events that cause us happiness, fear, pride,
anger, sadness, and frustration are what cause us to to be happy, afraid,
proud, angry, sad, and frustrated. What
is not rational is to take out your anger, sadness, frustration on the people
who did not anger, sadden, frustrate you.
While these emotions are our primal reactions, and as explored in the
previous entry, you can have irrational emotions, but you should not act on
them. You should act on and to promote
your rational positive emotions and to avoid your rational negative
emotions. The purpose of life is
achievement of your desires. Note that
is not satisfaction of your desires.
There is a huge difference, and I lead it to my reader’s educated mind
to consider the difference. One of my
desires is to visit every National Park before I turn 30. It is worlds easier if I can visit all 8 in
Alaska during this trip. To be upset,
sad, depressed even if I am unable to visit two of them today due to weather,
with it not being certain if I will be able to fit them in at the end, is
purely rational. No one would ever tell
me after visiting the parks “Don’t be happy,” so why would someone say, upon
failure, “Don’t be upset”? Why do people
try to discourage your negative emotions but not your positive emotions? Your negative emotions are just as important
as your positive ones. To say, “Don’t be
upset,” is the equivalent of saying, “Ignore your body’s warning systems.” What I am feeling today, what I am feeling on
July 18, is only a shadow of what I will feel on September 12, 2017, one way or
the other. Happiness is the Final Cause
of our existence, but avoiding negative emotions, and the things that you know
to cause you negative emotions, is a major Efficient Cause of Happiness.
After I closed last night, we went to dinner,
stopping at the laundry along the way to dry my clothes, since Sokol was
convinced that they would not dry hanging up overnight. The dryer was in use, so we left the clothes
there, and Sokol said he would put the clothes in after we ordered or when the
other guy’s clothes were dry. After a
veritable feast of wings and burgers and beer, with great and fast service, we
headed outside for pipes. I had a Castello,
while Sokol had a Rinaldo. We went to
bed not long after we finished the pipes, since we needed to get an early
start. The weather was questionable, but
the forecast for Homer was looking good, so I was feeling confident. Sokol was perhaps even more excited than I
for the charter flights, and we were a little early, so we got some coffee at
the hotel. They had a continental
breakfast with nothing I wanted on my diet, but Sokol feasted himself.
That’s when I got the call. The weather at the mountain pass was really
dicey, and they suggested we come over to the office to talk things over. When I got there, it was nothing like what I
expected. It was a little shack with one
floatplane and a couple about our age with a young kid. The couple was the pilot and the office
manager, and the kid their son. These
were clearly people who counted every penny, and I was about to give them a lot
of pennies, if they let me. The pilot
did not want to fly in the weather. They
said worst case was getting into an accident, best case was getting to Brooks
and being stuck on the other side of the mountain pass, possibly for days. These was not a large flying outfit that
needed to make a cost/benefit analysis.
This was a couple that needed the money, and the pilot made it clear
that he would take us over, if it was at all safe. It was not, not at that time anyway. We officially were a weather hold. I was devastated. Another pilot, someone who had been flying
since before I was born, came over and announced himself as “The Crusher of
Dreams,” since he had just told a group of six from Belgium that they would not
be seeing any bears today. That was how
I felt. I was crushed. One of my desires was going to go unachieved,
for now at least. I was very quickly
depressed. There were no words that
Sokol could offer that would comfort me, not that that stopped him from
trying. It just served to get me more upset.
At 9 AM, with no improvement in the weather,
we headed down to the beach with the understanding we would check in every
hour. At 1 PM, if we hadn’t departed
yet, we would head to Anchorage, since 1 PM was the latest we could leave and
still do everything. I was upset as I
had been since I missed out on the 2012 Stadium six months ago. As we drove to the NPS field office, I
reminded myself that I was in the most beautiful place in the world, so one
setback should not ruin my trip. I could
try to find a way to do the tour next Friday, even if it meant paying a little
more or driving all the way back to Homer from Anchorage. Just as what happened last summer in Fort
Simpson, the beauty of where I was kept me sane. The NPS office was staffed by a cute worker
who clearly had the Northern look. She
got us a virgin stamp, never before inked, so, at the very least, I will be
able to have a Lake Clark NP&Pres stamp, but nothing for Katmai NP. I knew that the Alaska highway system ended
in Homer, so I got back in the highway, heading away from Anchorage. After a mile or so, we were at Land’s
End. The kicker here was that the
weather here was so nice, and yet we were being told that we could not fly due
to the weather. The pain in my foot
steadily increasing, I lit up a Davidoff, while Sokol had a Villiger, and we
enjoyed some time standing on the beach and skipping rocks. After a while, I was cheered up enough by the
wonderful vista that I was ready to take some pictures. I was reminded how I barely took any pictures
my first couple of days in Israel since I was so upset about my water bottle. I still regret not taking those
pictures.
I did not want to regret anything
from my trip to Alaska. “Leave no
picture untaken, no souvenir unbought, no brochure unstamped, no plaque unfound.” The coffee was starting to kick in at that
point, so we went to take our Us, but Sokol made his unofficial. At 10 AM, I called the office, and I was told
that the pilot had went to a confab with the other pilots. I then went to get breakfast, fried eggs,
bacon, and reindeer sausage to accompany the rest of my cigar. It was quick and cheap and came with free
coffee. A few minutes later, I got the
call. All the pilots cancelled all of
their flights at that point. I had two
options at that point. I could book with
an outfit in Anchorage, possibly at a much higher price, or I could rent a car
on July 18 and drive back and forth to Homer, 9 hours of driving. I called the outfit in Anchorage, but they
were fully booked. We would call every
outfit in Anchorage tomorrow morning. If
none of those worked, we would come back to Homer. We stopped for souvenirs, and I got a
keychain, along with a t-shirt that said “End of the Road,” since we had gone
to the end of the road. We hit the road,
and we had all the time in the world, looking at about a 4 PM arrival in
Anchorage. We stopped for espresso and
looked up the other outfits in Anchorage, but it was too hard to access the websites.
When we got to a construction point, remembering the gummy worms, I rolled down the window, and Sokol gave the guy the salmon jerky that we so hated. The guy really appreciated it, and we started cracking up at that point. It reminded me of the Sex and the City movie when Carrie says that something so funny will happen that she will be forced to laugh. Granted, the love of my life didn’t leave me at the altar, and my best friend didn’t just shit his pants after trying to avoid drinking the Mexican tap water. As we were driving, I saw a sign
for a float plane outfit. A mile or so
later, my gut kicked in, and I turned around.
Sokol was so confused, and I was in no mood to explain. It took us 8 Days, but we were definitely
starting to get on each other’s nerves at this point. I still had some of the Gurkha left that I
had lit up on the road, so I left it outside.
They didn’t have anything for today, nor were they available on July
18. I had cell service, so I looked up
the outfits on my phone, and I called one that was reasonably priced. Yes, he could do the trip. Yes, he was available on July 18. The price would be less than I would have
paid the one in Homer. Sokol and I
slapped five, and I was heartened.
We
got back on the road. That was when the
weather started to get worse. It was
going to a rough drive to Anchorage. We
stopped for lunch at a roadside BBQ place, and I got some assorted
proteins. It was really good. We got back in the car, and I lit up a huge cigar
that Charles had given me, the name escapes me.
It was really, really good, and I expected it last to Anchorage. I was wrong.
We got stuck behind some slow traffic, and then a red pickup did a very
risky maneuver, cutting in between me and the RV that was a safe distance
ahead. It really bothers me when a car
is moving slowly in front of me, and I am maintaining a safe distance, and
someone who wants to go faster (as do I at that point), thinks it would be wise
to tailgate me. Eventually, we were able
to pass the RV. No, I got that
wrong. The red pickup was tailgating me,
and, when I passed the RV, it decided to pass me, as well. I kept up with it as much as I can, but,
after it passed another RV is a very unsafe manner, I let it go ahead, waiting
until it was safe to pass the RV, especially in this shitty weather.
Soon enough, we were in Anchorage, but we
were on a different road. Somehow, we
had gotten off the highway on the way to Seward. There was no third turn. We fucked up.
When I saw 5th Avenue, I turned off, and it brought us to the
official NPS office, where we very much wanted to take our official Us, but it
was no dice. The stamps were at the
Public Lands Management building. We
drove over there, parking illegally, since we expected to be quick. Since the building doubled as a federal
court, we had to go through a metal detector.
The only official stamp they had was identical to the one in Homer, but
I stamped my Lake Clark and Alaska brochures, anyway, much to the chagrin of
the worker who said that I already had that stamp on my brochure. Like I didn’t know that? I wanted to get an official Alaska NPS
souvenir at that point, but I couldn’t find anything I liked. There were some great souvenir shops nearby,
but I wanted to replicate my pattern from Juneau and Whitehorse as much as
possible. We headed back to the hotel,
checked in, parked our car, asked where to get dinner and where to park our
car, parked our car again, and headed towards the souvenir shops. My foot was as bad as it had been. I hobbled the half-mile or so to the souvenir
shop, checking out the restaurant along the way. It was overpriced, and I was in no mood to pay
that much for dinner. It was a great souvenir shop, and we got all the
souvenirs we needed for the folks at home.
I, of course, got a much larger stash than Sokol, but he was nowhere
near done by the time I paid. He was
examining each shirt they had, checking the size of each one, trying to figure
out which would be the perfect one for his brother.
There is nothing I hate more than standing
around doing nothing, and I knew this process would take forever. I also knew that it would not be long before
I started to get frustrated with Sokol and not much longer before that
frustration turned to anger. I had two
choices at that point. I could give in
to my rational negative emotions and sour the next few days of the trip, or I
could go outside, enjoy being in Anchorage, and light up my LFD. I chose the latter. After quite some time, the effect wore off,
so I went in to check on him, fully intending to have it out with him at that
point. He was checking out, so I opted for
snidely asking, “How the hell did that possibly take so long?” We then walked down to 4th Avenue,
checking out the restaurants on the way, not finding anything reasonable. Then we saw a hot dog stand, which had
reindeer sausage. I got one with bacon,
cheese, and onions. It was so good. Sokol lit up his Davidoff after he ate. While we were smoking, my foot being too sore
to comfortably move at that point, I told Sokol that I wasn’t angry with him,
that I was just frustrated with the way the day was going.
It was looking good for getting the parks on
the 18th, but I knew that I would not really be happy until we got
to Barrow Point and took a dip in the Arctic Ocean under the midnight sun. It had been 30 hours since we had done
anything, and it would be another 50+ hours before I did anything else that
served my 30 Goals. Then we noticed
someone standing in front of us, facing us.
Sokol, freaked out, sharply asked, “Can I help you?” I opted for a more polite, “Hi, how are you?” “Do you guys want to smoke some weed?” We didn’t.
Someone else asked the same question a few minutes later. Also, as we were waiting, a group of girls
walked to the street corner. Sokol said,
“Oh yeah, that’s the stuff,” a little too loudly, and they looked over and
laughed. A little bit later, we got up,
and I could barely walk. We made it back
to the hotel, stopping for beers along the way.
We got up to the room, I uploaded my photos, and we lit up some pipes,
me taking the Ardor, Sokol a Mastro de Paja.
We had a beautiful view with a door that opened up, allowing us to
ventilate the room really well, and Sokol had put a shower cap over the smoke
detector. I then proceed to write this
entry, which I will now close. As for
the rest of the trip, “I’ll think about that tomorrow. After all, tomorrow is another day.”
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