By the time you read this, I will be on a plane to Anchorage. Actually, depending on what time you read this I will be on a plane to either Newark, Seattle OR Anchorage. No one ever said getting across the country was easy.
I’m going to visit my friend Captain Klein for a week, see the start of the Iditarod, and eat reindeer sausage. And possibly an elk steak. I’m not sure Captain Klein has the interwebs at her house, so forgive me if I don’t so much post. She’s also apparently growing a small farm in her house, as I was informed that not the usual two, but three dogs will be in residence while I’m there. I’m okay with that. Alaska is cold. Dogs are warm.
I’m told we’ll be spending a lot of time doing outdoorsy things, so I’ve prepared.
Snow pants. (And parka.)
I don’t actually have snow boots, but I’m assured that I can buy some when I get up there. Which is good because all of the stores down here sold out like their asses were on fire when the snowpocolypse hit. If only I had been so forward-thinking.
Oh well. Worst case scenario I dig deep into my old school pockets again. I’m not going to let lack of footwear get in my way of exploring America’s last frontier. Hopefully by snowmobile. Or snowshoe. Or maybe on the back of an elk. Because trust me when I say that when hanging out with Captain Klein, one just never knows what will happen. But it is guaranteed to be an adventure.