Top of the World
After the strangeness of Downtown Chicken I needed some time to settle back into solitude of my existence. I’ve grown fond of my life without hysteria and paranormal.
Top of the World is one of the roads I have dreamt of. Who wouldn’t with the superlative name it carries. The Taylor Highway narrowed down and turned to gravel. Another reason to slow my rate of travel. It is hunting season in Alaska. I have never seen the likes of the equipment drug to the trailheads by Alaskans – tracked monstrosities, pickups with oversized tractor tires, a tractor with four foot wide tires, and the more expected ATVs with home built cabs, river rafts outfitted with motors and ATV ramps – personal ferry boats, air boats, flat bottomed skiffs. It was astounding – more like an infantry going to battle than hunters I’m familiar with.
Driving the Taylor highway back in July I had seen bear, wolf, moose, beaver, caribou, even ground squirrels. This trip I saw nothing. Not even a squirrel. Even the wildlife was not comfortable with the militia invading. I was looking forward to Canada and hopefully the wildlife was there too.
Climbing past Boundary I finally arrived at Canada Customs and was welcomed into Canada. After driving the first few kilometres of highway I started to feel at ease. There was not a hunting camp, no make it a hunting city, in every meadow or wide spot along the road.
I was soon focused on this evening’s task – find the perfect campsite. My criteria were simple:
1) A high vantage with an unobstructed view of the entire northern horizon.
2) A somewhat level spot to lay my bed.
Arriving at the Top of the World I had spot in mind just past customs. My mental picture of the place did not reflect reality. I quickly moved on. After thirty kilometres concern started ebbing at my psyche. My ideal was not materializing.
Finally, as my cut-off time neared a spot in the distance caught my attention. A flattened hill just above the road. A flattened hill meant just one thing – gravel pit and hopefully a navigable track to it.
I had arrived. After a quick tomato sandwich I sprung the tent into shape – easier said then done – in the ridgetop gale. I carefully placed my household items in the structure, then sprawled out to test the setup. It was ideal – a view unobstructed from east to west.
I imagined the sun dipping behind Denali. My attention focused on setting sun’s colours, the yellows, the oranges and the reds. Next the higher clouds turned fuchsia. Examining the heavens I found reprieve discovering the frontal boundary was far to my south.
I watched as the last colour left the sunset. The last glow of fuchsia paled as the sky transformed into its deepest blue and faded into the final translucent glow of day’s end.
I glanced east to my other horizon – a horizon spanning hundreds of miles into the night sky. The same colour warmed the dark eastern sky. The stars seemed dimmed. Without waiting for the sky above the setting sun to darken, the aurora borealis was rising from the east. An almost eerie emerald glow claimed the cold, night sky.
My skin tingled, I got goosebumps. I pulled my sleeping bags tighter. The veiled light faded. The stars glowed against the nighttime sky. A small, intense finger of jade probed skyward from the east. Instantly an emerald band from east to west flashed on. Above and below the night sky remained untouched – a ring around the arctic circle from horizon to horizon. It grew more intense – the closest edge glowed white fading to yellow and finally intense green. Touched by a wind, the light waved in the breeze. Like a fog it twisted and wrapped around the sky. In the east a second arm reached across the sky, then a third. The light grew intense, then faded away only to return more dramatically. A swirl low on the horizon, the eye of a storm, gyrated, then faded. I lay there breathless as the fingers spread out, then settled onto the northern horizon. The distant mountains’ silhouette became highlighted by the glow of the heavens. It was mesmerizing, hypnotic, mystical, surreal, and spiritual all at the same time.
Me – a speck in heaven’s cathedral.
