Rolling wheels in Seward

I feel far away from home, both homes.

The moment I embarked on the boat in Seward, I felt slightly off-balance and prayed that I would not get motion sick. The last long ferry/boat cruise was from Helsinki to Tallinn (in 2008).

As long as I remained outside on the top deck, I was fine, while certain motions inside the boat were very unpleasant.

When leaving the harbour of Seward, I didn’t feel like I was on solid ground. However, I knew that if I continued racking my brains over it, I’d definitely get sick, so I distracted myself by focusing on the great views and listened to the captain’s commentary. All was easy; the mesmerizing beauty did the job. The lovemaking otters nearby the harbour put a great smile on my face…

As soon as the harbour receded into the distance, I thought about home and all the way I’ve travelled to be alone. I don’t necessarily like being alone; it’s just something that I need to do (in fact, as much as I can). The main reason for this being…

I need to stay strong. I don’t ever want to forget how to look after myself. I don’t want to be dependent on anyone. And most significantly, I don’t ever want to lose connection to myself, which happens way too easily and frequently. On another note, I don’t want to be afraid if I should ever die alone.

So far, the Alaskan sun has beaten the Calgarian sun and Nevada’s desert sun. It’s the first time this summer that I got sunburnt on my nose of all places. Though I was lucky to have a bright sunny day during the cruise, however, the wind was unbearably cold despite warm clothing. So you either went back inside or stayed outside in the sun. I caught a tan line from my sunglasses, and I’ve noticed new freckles that weren’t there before. I curse them every day.

I met people through activities, such as signing up for a day hike and going on a cruise. I made two friends in a week. It’s like a miracle. This is who I should be, and it’s what I can accomplish when alone. I don’t intend to party in Alaska at all, not until I go to Alaska’s little sister – Texas.

It’s gonna be a completely different world.

I’ll be heading to Fairbanks in an hour, which is apparently a tranquil place, and you can’t get anywhere without a car. Not entirely sure if I want to rent a car or not. Shall see if I find someone with a vehicle; otherwise, I’ll rent a bike, but if the weather’s terrible (rain forecast pretty much all week), I might even get a car. My main plan is to visit the library and the Chena River, and if someone’s heading to the hot springs, I would like to join them.

On Friday, I’ll be heading to the Denali National Park, where my tent awaits me. I’ve not been sleeping well, and yet, I’m relaxed, not stressed, so I’m not that hungry. Having my period on my holiday is nauseating, and I just ran out of tampons.

I always get lost in the city, no matter its size; I almost have no sense of orientation, yet I want to drive alone, but I don’t know whether my concentration is up for this challenge.

I’m about to embark on the plane. The only soothing thing right now is Chris Cornell’s voice in my ears.

There’s something about boats and planes that throw me off balance that makes me feel I’m no longer walking on solid ground, and everything is floating. All I can do is distract myself or pretend that I am dreaming. You never know where you are standing in your dreams. The other night I felt like I was sleeping on water, and on planes, I feel like I’m hiking through clouds – one of the main reasons I didn’t go all the way up Flattop Mountain. I don’t need to reach the peak of anything. There are other ways to get lost. Clouds and fogs are really not necessary. I’m very Dickensian in this aspect. There are enough uncertainty, confusion and secrets here.

Rolling wheels and turbines. Feeling somewhat dizzy…

And still, I must go. Soon enough, I’ll be behind the wheel.

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