Adrienne Lindholm - It Happened Like This: A Life in Alaska

IT HAPPENED
LIKE THIS

ADRIENNE LINDHOLM

IT
HAPPENED
LIKE
THIS

a life in alaska

MOUNTAINEERS BOOKS is the publishing division of The Mountaineers, an organization founded in 1906 and dedicated to the exploration, preservation, and enjoyment of outdoor and wilderness areas.

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Copyright 2018 by Adrienne Lindholm

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Printed in the United States of America

Distributed in the United Kingdom by Cordee, www.cordee.co.uk

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Copyeditor: Chris Dodge

Cover and book design: Jen Grable

The views expressed in this book are solely the authors and do not necessarily represent the views of the National Park Service or other federal agencies.

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Printed on recycled paper

ISBN (paperback): 978-1-68051-134-5

ISBN (ebook): 978-1-68051-135-2

For my girls

M y luggage stacked on the curb at Philadelphia International Airport was its own declaration of independence. I was twenty-six, and although my parents didnt expect me to live within walking distance, they hadnt anticipated Id want to move to the Arctic. I had no idea what a backcountry ranger didespecially in Denali National Park. We were just told to show up. So Id tallied my savings and bought a plane ticket to Fairbanks, Alaska.

For several weeks my parents had asked over and over, How long are you planning to stay? Is there a phone? What about bears? I knew what they were really asking was, Are you sure you want to go?

On the drive to the airport Mom was still processing the details of my appointment. It sure sounds rustic, she said, letting the words hang between us. And then, as we pulled up to the curb, Maybe all those years you spent sleeping on the floor will pay off.

She was referring to the five years spanning part of elementary school and middle school during which I had refused to make my bed. As a consequence, my parents didnt allow me to sleep in the bed, so I slept in a sleeping bag on the floor beside it. Even though we lived in the urban East Coast, where camping wasnt part of most peoples vocabulary, after a while no one in my family thought it was strange, and I cant remember how or why I ever returned to sleeping in a bed.

I turned to say good-bye. Dad pulled me into his chest. I met some tough people up there, he said. Fifty years ago, barely a man, Bobby Lee had taken the only path that existed out of an impoverished community in North Carolina. He had enlisted in the US Army and been stationed in Alaska, where he worked as a cryptographer during the Korean War.

He gripped my shoulders. Youre going to do great, as always.

I felt the sting of tears, and I wondered how leaving for Alaska could feel like strength and sorrow at the same time.

In truth, I didnt feel so strong. I felt uneasy, but this wasnt because of the uncertain condition of my lodging or the many unknown details of a new job in a rugged and remote part of the country. The feeling, I see now, was guilt. My parents and younger brother were unwaveringly loving and supportive. Despite Dads rigorous schedule as vice president of a paperboard packaging company, he showed up at every one of my soccer games. Mom and Dad drove me to gymnastics, lacrosse practices, and sports camps and endured two school plays each year. They helped me research colleges. They bought me a used car. But it wasnt enough to keep me on the East Coast. After high school, I had moved farther and farther away, first to Virginia and then to Colorado and Montana, even though I knew it made them sad. As much as I loved them, I simply couldnt ignore the restlessness welling inside me, the need to prove my strength to the world, to myself.

I lifted my backpack from the curb and slung a duffel bag over my shoulder. As I turned toward the sliding doors, Dad smeared a tear from his lip, and Mom waved, with her head cocked to the side. As usual, they were standing by, silently supporting my quest to find my own true north. Onward, I told myself, and then I turned away. I was headed to Fairbanks, where I didnt know a single person.

Though I carried meager belongings, my confidence was buoyed by a set of life skills Id acquired in suburban Philadelphia, a stellar academic transcript from a private university in Virginia, my shiny new graduate degree in environmental studies, and a growing number of miles on my hiking boots.

A couple years of dabbling in environmental nonprofit organizations had inspired me to crusade for a world in which people cared more deeply about the fate of nature. I ached to contribute to this revolution. For just one summer I wanted to be part of something noble that would help preserve one of the wildest places on earth.

The engines revved. The jet charged down the runway and lifted off. I pressed my forehead to the window and watched the city recede. It was time to go to the mountains.

Mountains had discovered me as much as I had discovered them. I was eleven years old when I watched my mom spend winter nights kneeling over a huge map of the United States spread across our living room floor. She held a yellow highlighter as she paged through encyclopedia volumes and traced a route on the map.

Were going to live out of the car for a month and sleep in a tent every night, she told my eight-year-old brother Scott and me.

In the kitchen I heard her explaining the trip to my dad: Ive always wanted to see the national parks. Are you sure you cant come?

Maureen, Im afraid I cant take an entire month off work, but Ill join you toward the end. You pick the spot.

In late June she packed the Oldsmobile with our clothes, a cooler, a canvas tent and cotton sleeping bags, the coffee can stove Id made in Brownies, and plastic plates and bowls. Scott and I crawled into the backseat, and we headed west toward I-70. In a couple hours we had left the traffic, shopping malls, and pavement behind. When we got to western Pennsylvania, my eyes were wide open. I had never seen that much open space before. Scott and I laughed at the cows.

Over the next two weeks we walked down into the damp, dripping, colorful Carlsbad Caverns, took pictures of bison and geysers at Yellowstone National Park, and hiked in the Grand Tetons.