Thanksgiving Weekend

Inside the cabin Thanksgiving Weekend at the Cabin
Thanksgiving, 1989

We feasted with friends in Anchorage, then loaded Dennis' truck with warm clothes, provisions and a snowmachine for a winter trip to the homestead. We left town Friday before sunrise. During the six-hour drive, the sun gradually lightened the southern sky, then sparkled from mountain peaks stark against an ice-blue sky. Hoar frost covered each needle, branch and blade of grass.

Caribou browsed along the roadside, a bull moose bolted for the trees, and the first wolf I've seen in the wild loped down the middle of the road no more than 200 yards ahead of us. Snow-white ptarmigan took flight in a noisy flutter and glided softly back to earth.

At the end of the drive, we unloaded the snowmachine, packed the sled, and bundled up for the 20-mile ride to the cabin. It was calm and relatively warm, perhaps 8 degrees Fahrenheit, but gale force winds had blown and packed the snow into icy ridges that were virtually impossible to see in the flat light. We were riding double, and I found myself bounced high and unbalanced more often than I liked.

But here we are in the cozy cabin, with a crackling fire, a hot drink, and finally some time to rest and think. I often wonder why unpressured time seems so hard to find. Everyone I know is busier than ever. The whole world seems to have shifted into overdrive and the rats are racing faster and faster. We love it here in this peaceful cabin, surrounded by God's beautiful wilderness. We are very thankful this Thanksgiving!