We left the homestead in trusted hands for a four night adventure to the other side. After turning right at the Y and driving a few miles, we were surrounded by white-capped peaks with ridge lines nearly as sharp as my wife’s cheek bones. Kids and parents alike were in awe.

Primrose pointed at the largest mountain in the area and said, “That is the biggest mountain in the whole state of America. It would be kind of hard to climb to the top.”

“Do you think you could climb to the top of that one?” I asked her.

She paused for a moment as I watched her in the rearview mirror, before shrugging her shoulders and lowering her head in a no-big-deal manner and saying, “Yeah- I could.”

We stopped in lovely downtown Moose Pass to meet with Brooke Estes, who ordered ten copies of both books, ten bath salts, and ten salves for the historic store. We looked for her across the street at the bonfire where I ran into a former classmate who was operating a fan attached to some ducting that was feeding the bonfire with fresh air. It felt good to see a familiar face after so many years, it always does. Brooke was in the shop-shop, not the store-shop, and she offered to shake our hands but didn’t want to cover us in diesel fuel. So we followed her inside the store where she wrote us a check while telling us a detailed history of the Estes Bros. shop. When asked if she was the local historian of the area she laughed and said, “That’s my Dad. I just listen.” And let me tell you– she listens, remembers, and speaks well. Over the past few years, she has been working to revamp the family store with more than stop-and-go snacks and it is much needed for the community of Moose Pass, which is roughly 26 miles away from Seward. She is working to fill the refrigerators with fresh local produce in the summers and to bring in more local arts and crafts to sell to the tourists and locals alike who pass through the dreamy town. We waved goodbye to Trail Lake, Moose Pass, and the Estes family store with a nice sized check from a kind young Alaskan who is building a brighter future for her state and community. We are honored to be a part of it.

We stopped at my godmother’s house in Bear Lake subdivision to deliver a trash bag full of frozen sockeye salmon that she will smoke and send to her family in Fort Yukon. Their Athabaskan way of life has been drastically altered since being forced to stop salmon fishing on the Yukon River while trawlers continue to annihilate marine populations, so Marti Wallis takes it upon herself to ship most of her fish north to the village. And while it’s not a fix to the problem, it feeds people. The garbage bag ripped open as I carried it to her backyard to put in the freezer, so I had to make two trips to get it all. She was not at home at the time, so we continued on to Seward to get settled in to our new home for the next four days, to change diapers, stretch legs, and eat.

We have been blessed with the opportunity to stay at a cute little house right by the post office in downtown Seward that is owned by a dear friend who I have not seen in years. He lives in New York and rents the house out as an AirBnB when he is not here visiting his daughter, son-in-law, grandsons, friends, and mountains. The house is perfect. The bedroom has a bed that is big enough for Mama and the babies, while the big girls and I made a bed on the floor to snuggle up on. The dogs are cozy on the living room rug. The Toyo keeps it warm enough, despite the drafty age of the house. All of the amenities are included, some of which we are not used to as off-grinders. Hot water, endless electricity, TV, microwave, electrical kettle. It is so perfect for us, and so kind of Danny to let us use the place free-of-charge. Savanna and I put the kids to bed last night and stayed up late watching True Lies. (Not to digress, but it’s not my favorite Arnold film. And I am so damn blessed to be married to a woman who chooses an Arnold movie while I’m putting the kids to bed.)

We drove out to Lowell Point beach to walk the dogs and skip rocks with the kids. The black rock beach had a zillion skipping rocks and the kids had so much fun that they were exhausted by the time we made it to the beachfront playground.

Of course, I drove past some old hangouts of mine and took a trip down memory lane. Past the equal housing opportunity apartment where I used to live with my mother, and past her apartment downtown where she passed away. While I sure miss that woman, I’m so happy that she lived and died in such a wonderful little town.

Every time I come to Seward I am surprised by the new buildings and projects. The harbor area is not like it used to be, but what really is. The train depot and bike shop are gone, which I had only heard about up to this point. A new Chugachmiut building is near the Chamber of Commerce, I hope it provides local Native folks with free healthcare rather than having to drive to Anchorage. And then a freakin’ huge house/lodge/mansion thing is out near Miller’s Landing and about a dozen little cabins right off the beach. (Did I mention that the Miller’s Landing gift shop is buying a bunch of my books to sell? Stop in there to get them!)

I could go on and on but I am not going to, because I could ramble all day about how much I love this little town and how every time we come back here I think to myself: “How the heck could we afford to buy here?”

I once owned land and a geodesic dome here that I later sold to rid a guilty conscience, and while I don’t regret that decision to sell the place I very much wish I had our own little plot of land here or a tiny house where we could stay and play in the mountains and sea. Because I love Seward, and I sure missed her. The mountains, the people, the water, and the wind- I am grateful for all that she has shared with me, and I am pumped to share her with my growing family.