I went to Alaska. It is a place I have always wanted to go. US history paints Alaska as a frontier that’s full to the brim with the “American experience.” Bald eagles soar above ten foot men in fishing waders reeling in salmon by the dozen. The truth is, Alaska IS a visage of true America, just not in the way that we typically picture it.

I was planning on going this year. I spent $600 on this “all you can fly” frontier pass that allows you to book flights on frontier for the price of their taxes only, which is the price that flights on frontier should actually be (should you ever want to ride in a cardboard box with wings then choose Frontier.) Flights must also be booked a single day in advance (with blackout dates and exceptions blah blah blah. Immediately, I planned to go to the furthest place I could for cheap. It was a loose plan but then I met a really lovely someone who happened to be moving there in a few months and I tricked them into thinking I’m really interesting so they would invite me. So the plan really fell into place then.

I flew into Anchorage late at night and we slept in a plywood shack. It fortunately had everything we needed but none of the annoying over the top Airbnb amenities like windows or locks. The next day we drove down the Seward Highway (named after former Secretary of State appointed by Lincoln whom negotiated the purchase of Alaska during his presidency. This was a smart move by Will Seward (Willy Sewy) as there was not a single other pressing matter during Lincoln’s presidency. Purchasing an incredibly vast, dangerous and seemingly fruitless tract of land that was almost entirely separate from the US was a smart investment. Especially because now, it’s very fun to kayak there.) it was very foggy but I was still stunned by the scenery. The Seward Highway runs alongside the outer rims of two of Alaska’s metric-fuck ton of protected parks. You can throw a rock and hit protected land, and you will be promptly arrested for it.

The second day was spent catching up over dinner. The views from Seward are pretty breathtaking and the people are very friendly and chatty. The weather was cold and very rainy, as expected. I experienced the “lack of sunset” that occurs this time of year and really felt uneasy about it. Sleeping with the sun up is strange but manageable. I covered my eyes with a shirt like I was getting ready to be waterboarded. Relaxing.

The next day we got to do some actual hiking. I saw a fucking glacier. It felt like seeing a dinosaur or a celebrity, or Tom Selleck. It was just kind of there, a very very old wall of ice. Throughout the approach there were these markers indicating the furthest reach of the glacier by year. It made me feel sort of uneasy having this very clear example of global temperature rise directly in front of me. Someone should really start working on that climate thing, seems important. The weather was bad but the hike was fun and I got to sled down on the way back. Sledding is really fun. My whole childhood in Florida was filled with anti-snow and anti-sled propaganda, or maybe that was anti-Cuban propaganda? It’s easy to get the two confused. Dinner was also great. Everything I ate was delicious and made by 20 somethings working seasonally to fuel their passion for being in fringe places and doing wild things.

A particular moment stood out to me; The Seward highway is a single two lane highway that supports lots of tourism through Chugach and Coopers Landing. But! The summer is the only viable time to run road construction in Alaska, because it’s not Football season. You can be stopped and waiting to go alongside the next pilot car for up to 30 minutes: it can double your 2 hour trip time. We missed the window and were the first car in line for the next group. A young rugged looking girl around our age dressed in hi-vis construction gear and a hard hat smiled and jaunted up to the window to ask us what’s up? That was it. Just “what’s up?” So then we robbed her. After that we talked for 15 minutes maybe about the weather and work until she got a call on the radio asking if she wanted a sandwich. Life is slower there. People don’t mind waiting and taking time. It felt to me like Alaska is so vast and wide that your stresses, worries, fears just don’t take up as much space. But somehow, the small talk is bigger there. People aren’t really strangers, probably because there’s only like four of them in total.

Alaska is gorgeous. People come from all around the world to see it’s vast virgin spaces. The wildlife is abundant. The fishing is easy. The city of Anchorage is a doorway to the frontier. However, it’s a doorway with mirrors. Mirrors reflecting some the best and ugliest parts of the American dream. On one side of the door is the picturesque locale and slow small town life. The other is a not so pretty state that buries its poverty, drug abuse and natives under the rug in favor of its tourism. Despite this, the working people are hospitable and helpful. They’re tough and blue collar, soaking up every ounce of sunshine each summer before heading back to mainland or abroad. The toughest of them shovel themselves through some of the worlds bitterest and most inhospitable winters. Alaska is a place of extremes. The people who survive there are just like it’s indigenous people, plants and animals: tough and scrappy and strange and anomalous. But theres only like four of them so who cares. I really fell in love with it. I will certainly be back. I think the glacier I saw would really benefit from having a Walmart or a Macy’s nearby. It’s absurd to me that nobody has thought of this.