Travels: Alaska

I'd never been on a plane...

Chugach Mountain Range as seen from Eagle River, AK. Photo by Kishore Narendran on Unsplash

The summer of 1965 was eventful, pivotal even. I had left my abusive husband February 1st. In Missouri at the time, you had to be twenty-one years old to get a divorce. (If younger, you had to have a parent's consent. My mom had signed to get me married, but wouldn't sign for my divorce.) Shortly after I was out on my own with my five year old son, I started writing to my former boyfriend from when I was fourteen. He was in the Air Force, currently stationed in Alaska.

In June, he was sent to Elmendorf Air Force Base in Anchorage for dental work. I quit my job as a bank teller in St. Louis, left my son with my mom in Newburg, and went to Alaska. I traveled by Greyhound bus to Seattle, and flew from there. I had never been on an airplane before. Alaska Airlines upgraded me to first class for an unknown reason. Maybe because I was young, blonde, and female, I don't know. I was seated next to James Garner, who was going to Alaska to hunt bears. He denied being James Garner though he asked what movie(s) I had seen him in. I had seen him in most recently in The Americanization of Emily. He seemed pleased with that. I was nervous about flying, and he was determined to make me comfortable. By the time we were served our lunch of Crab Louie (which I'd read about but never tasted) on real china with real silverware, I was no longer anxious.

Exactly like the plane I flew on. Convair 880, Alaska Airlines

When I got off the plane in Anchorage, I forgot all about Mr. Garner, because I was there to see Bill, whom I hadn't seen in seven years. He looked ancient to me (he was twenty-seven), because he already had laugh lines and crow's feet. But his smile was infectious, and he grabbed me and kissed me as soon as my feet touched the ground.

In those days, people waiting could walk right out onto the tarmac. I felt shy and barely said anything. We spent three days in base housing, then moved into a two-room apartment downtown. I went out the next day and got a job as a bank teller. The next day I opened a charge account at one of the stores downtown (the owner was a customer) and bought a few things to wear to work. My luggage didn't make it to Anchorage, so all I had were the clothes I wore on the plane. I'd been rinsing out my underwear at night and wearing the same clothes every day.

After two weeks, Bill had to go back to Galena Air Station. His plan was to finagle a way to come back to Anchorage to be with me.

We had done zero sight-seeing. And I did none after he left. Instead, I went to work and went home. I wrote letters and read. I had no telephone, no radio, no television.

After a month, I received a phone call at work. My son's father had kidnapped him and the police would do nothing. I was needed back in Missouri.

Less than four years later, I would return. By this time I had managed to get divorced, but lost custody of my child. Bill came back to the lower forty-eight, he and I moved to Texas and got married. Our daughter turned a year old on our way back to Alaska. My son was lost to me forever. He and his father moved to Louisiana, and my lawyer said I'd never get him back due to Louisiana laws.

I spent the next three and a half years living in Anchorage. I fell in love with the Chugach Mountain range, feasting my eyes on them every day. I climbed the Eklutna Glacier with my daughter on my back in 1971. I was not equipped for climbing in any way. Bill and I and another couple had gone up to see the glacier. When Bill and the other guy decided to climb up and see what they could see, the other wife and I sat for a while, chatting. Then I decided I needed to climb the glacier too, so off we went. After a quick look around, the other wife and I headed to the car. My daughter was in a baby carrier on my back. It was April, but I was dressed as if it were summer. No jacket, lightweight tennis shoes. When we were almost there, I slipped on ice and slid downhill. I locked my knees, refusing to fall with my baby. When I landed with a jolt -- still upright -- my knees bore the brunt.

Photo by Austin Post 1964 Eklutna Glacier

The next day two mountain climbers were buried and died in an avalanche on Eklutna Glacier. Another climber had been caught in the avalanche, but survived.  I didn't know them, but I was shaken.

I had climbed trees, hills, and bluffs growing up. No equipment, no training, just free climbing. Bill and I climbed up and down Palo Dura Canyon in Texas many times before our daughter was born. I'd never given a thought to the possibility of accidents or injuries. After Eklutna, I became more cautious.

Next time I'll write about my trip when my daughter and I left Alaska for good.

What was your first plane trip? Do you have Alaska stories to share? What was your first big trip away from home?

Do you value the work that goes into writing this weekly letter? Please consider a paid subscription today. Your support makes this work possible and is deeply appreciated.