There’s a postcard outside my window this morning.
Surely beauty grows wild in Alaska. Instead of wildlife and wildflowers, it’s the mountains rushing to greet us today – mountains backlit by the hint of an eastern sun.
Still clouds reign, though the beauty of this place is not disguised. Thick conifers fall to the sea. Likely Black and White Spuce, they stand in rows, one on top of another, as if standing before their assigned stadium seats. Cheering. Soon the ship will dock, allowing us to mingle with the sights and tastes of Juneau.
Hubbard Glacier was doing what it does best yesterday – calving icebergs. Thunder roared, just like for rain in the sky, to announce the birth of a new independent entity. Around Old Mother Hubbard, the seas were filled with offspring; a few turned into air mattresses for seals in need of a little rest in the weak sun.
The ship officers made their own proud announcement yesterday: Our ship was brought within two-tenths of a mile to ‘shore’, closer than any of this ship’s other cruises to Hubbard this season. Being a bit of a skeptic, I wondered if they didn’t tell the same to all the other ‘girls.’
No matter. There’s no need to boast in Alaska. Near or far, there is a sense of the holy all about me. I feel lost and at a loss for words. And isn’t this the way it always is, whenever and wherever humans bump up against the Holy; whether on the pages of the Bible or in the here and now, we stumble for words of our experience. “God cannot be expressed but only experienced,” writes Frederick Buechner.
Which makes me think — surely the tired and worn phrase of postcard writing – “Wish you were here” – was born in Alaska.
an everyday life 
Oh, yes. And I have to say, the best thing about cruising Glacier Bay on a 65′ sailboat was being able to tuck into places the larger vessels couldn’t – always careful not to get TOO close to the glaciers. Being calved upon wouldn’t be a pleasant experience.
(A note: our sailboat had a stainless steel “cage” around its propeller to keep ice from damaging it. And when we stopped at Glacier Bay Lodge, we learned they make their famous “Glacier-itas” only now and then. Seems the glacier ice is harder than regular ice and it tears up the blades of the blenders. Now you can impress fellow passengers with your ice trivia!)
I wish I were there, too.
Linda,
I always say you have lived such an interesting life — and this is just one postcard from your past to prove it.
The small vessel would have offered many advantages — it was my husband’s dream to travel Alaska’s coast in just this way — but I’ve no complaints for making the trip on board a large ship, especially the night we encountered rough waters. Alaska is beautiful however it comes.
Loved your story on the “Glacier-itas.” Maybe some day, I’ll see all this woven in one of your posts.
Janell