Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
The next voice I heard was Marie's. "Mom said I have to hold the phone until you stop
screaming."
So I packed a very large cooler and drove the 220 miles from Anchorage to Homer to
catch Mako's Water Taxi to Seldovia, and somewhere along that drive I began to think
about freedom.
I'll tell you what I think freedom is.
Freedom is a ride in a large open skiff across Kachemak Bay over water whipped into
four-foot swells by a 25-knot wind straight out of the south. Freedom is Sila the boatman,
he of the bleached blonde buzz cut and the great grin, skinnying out of a motheaten sweat-
shirt to reveal a gaily flowered aloha shirt once we're across, firing up an unfiltered
Camel and sitting down on an overturned five-gallon bucket for the rest of the journey.
Freedom is a long dusty drive from the dock at Jakalof into Seldovia, the mayor's hus-
band at the wheel. Freedom is family waiting with open arms and newborn babies and
upchucking toddlers, because Monica's Jessica threw up on the man sitting in front of her
on the plane and promptly infected everyone upon arrival. Freedom is the drool-y, beam-
ing smile on the seventh-month old face of Tanya's Spencer. Freedom is Angel's newborn
Cameron fitting exactly between my elbow and palm. Freedom is Kathy taking a nap the
instant I get there because she's been up all night with the upchuckers. Freedom is going
to the store for everything anti-viral and over-the-counter the law allows.
Freedom is 36 people crowding serially into the kitchen while dinner is cooking to say,
"Gosh, that smells good! When's it going to be ready? I'm starving! Is it done yet? Can
we eat yet? I'm hungry, starving, do I have to stay starved! Is there anything else to eat
while we're waiting?" Freedom is coercing Jordan into being sous-chef. Freedom is Kevin
staying out of sight so he won't be put to work. Freedom is loading plates full of spaghetti
and sauce and garlic bread, and the kids, instigated by Kathy, doing their "Thank you,
Auntie Dana!" routine, thereby leading a whole new generation into bad ways.
Freedom is a long evening ride on Kevin's cherry red four-wheeler, Kathy driving and
me clutching on behind all the way up the bay to Harmony Point, out to the airport, to the
Inside Beach, also known as Linder's Beach although no one knows who Linder was and
soon to be known as Grandma's Beach anyway because Kevin just bought the property
