Remember that time I went to Alaska all by myself and it was really awesome? (Part II)

Seeing as I'm leaving the country in nine days and have ”a little bit” of wrapping up and nailing down to do, I'm left with somewhat limited time for blogging. I will thus have to be quite efficient (i.e. not too chatty) as I'm presenting the rest of the Alaska story.

Ready? Ok, here we go.

From Talkeetna I drove to Healy, which was my base camp for venturing into Denali National Park, utilizing the excellent hop-on hop-off shuttle bus service. Denali, or ”the high one”, is the indigenous name for Mount McKinley, the highest mountain peak in North America. The national park is also the home of a plethora of wildlife, and during my day trip I counted about ten grizzly bears, five moose, herds of caribou and dall sheep, three gyrfalcons, and countless ground squirrels.

I know I promised tales of blueberries and wet feet, but I'll just shower you with photos instead. My apologies. (There will be blueberries though!)

Grizzly bear! (Yes it's there. Look hard.)

Another one. This guy was actually on the road when we came riding in the bus.

Pretty mountains.

”I said hello caribou, goodbye heart, sweet caribou I'm so in love with you...”

The view from Eielson Visitor Center.

Finally! The Alaskan blueberries were just like the Swedish: small, but packed with flavor. (This is where I went off road and my feet got wet. Totally worth it!)

Eielson Visitor Center from above. This little climb took 35 minutes up and 17 minutes down. Best thing, besides the view? The caribou that was resting at the top, calmly observing the sweaty hikers zigzagging their way up the rocky mountainside.

Afternoon clouds playing games with shadows.

The next day I set off south, from Healy via Anchorage to the Kenai peninsula and Sterling. It was a long drive, but also ridiculously beautiful; I wanted to stop and take pictures about every two miles or so, in particular as I was going past Turnagain Arm.

After staying the night in Sterling I backtracked a few miles to the Skilak Wildlife Recreation Area; more on that in part III...

The August issue

Third Monday of the month means a spanking new issue of Science Spotlight. Finally!

I recommend clicking on the links below to read about: i) a new method for reducing chronic graft-versus-host disease by specifically removing certain immune cells (naïve T cells) from stem cell transplants; and ii) the development of a sophisticated measure of emotional distress for improved care of transplanted cancer patients.

HCT improved - less naïve, more useful
A more meaningful, less stressful, distress measure

Awesome stuff, as always! If you don't read it you're clearly out of your mind.

The Girl and the Golden Carrot

If I've ever earned a golden carrot, then Saturday was definitely the day. Waking up at 4:45 am in a strange city and running a half marathon a couple of hours later was not an altogether pleasant experience, to be honest.

On the positive side, the weather conditions in Vancouver were perfect when the race began at 7 am: overcast and a little chilly. I started out fantastic along the scenic course, being carried forward by energetic cheerleader children, sassy drag queens, and flirty mermaids. The problem: I was doing a little too well, which I probably should have realized when I suddenly caught up with the 1:40-”pace beavers” [sic] after about 6 km. But it felt so good! My legs were the happiest in British Columbia and I simply couldn't bring myself to slow down when they so badly wanted to do their thing.

I kept up without any trouble until about 15 km, when I started feeling a little queasy. It was as if my body suddenly connected the dots between my poor breakfast and overambitious pace, and decided to simply resign. In short, I hit the wall.

After a feeble attempt to close the steadily growing gap between myself and the pacers I reluctantly concluded that I was out of luck and slowed down to the initially intended 4:50 min/km. However, I had overdone it to the point that even 5:00 min/km turned out to be a painful struggle and every hill, no matter how minor, made me want to just lie down and let the wolves take me (they have those in Canada, right?).

Still, somehow, from the bottom of my stubborn heart, I managed to muster up the energy to keep running. I simply refused to give up, and when I finally crossed the finishing line—drained, dizzy, and utterly confused—the clock had stopped at 1:42:23. Despite my stupidly optimistic start I had managed to maintain an average pace of 4:51 min/km, i.e. almost exactly what I was secretly hoping for before the race, and beat my previous PR from 2012 with more than 2 minutes.

Golden carrot, I own you.

After stumbling over the finishing line and receiving my carrot medal, a white tube-shaped item was handed to me. In my post-race confusion I didn't understand what I was holding, but a starry-eyed staff member happily informed me that it was an ”organic cotton towel infused with rainforest mist” that would reinvigorate and reenergize and...

I wobbled on with my wet towel. The joys of attending a yoga festival.

David and Amelia, my brilliant support crew. And my golden carrot, which I'm biting into because what else am I supposed to do?

The rest of the weekend was fabulous; I recuperated almost curiously quickly after a second breakfast and a shower, and the three of us spent Saturday browsing through stores, eating, drinking, meeting up with some friends of Amelia's, eating some more, and then finally watching the surprisingly clever Inside Out at a theater downtown.

Sunday morning started with a quick breakfast and then another challenge of physical nature: Grouse Grind. I was afraid my legs were going to protest madly as we were climbing ”Mother Nature's Stairmaster” to the top of the mountain, but I can honestly say that they were practically unaffected by yesterday's effort. It's almost a little strange, no...? Anyhow, up we went, and down we rode in the gondola. After that, we celebrated with a fancy, calorie-packed brunch at Chambar before loading ourselves into the car and heading back to the US.

As we made our way over the border crossing, the immigration officer looked at my visa and noted the rapidly approaching expiration date. He turned to me and asked if I was planning a renewal or if I was wrapping things up shortly. The answer sounded alien, but there was no hesitation: ”I'm wrapping things up.”

Two weeks to go. It's happening—it really is.

Why sit still when you can move?

I'm not busy enough! Let's go to...I don't know...Vancouver? To do this.

...

YES.

(See you on Sunday, Seattle!)

Remember that time I went to Alaska all by myself and it was really awesome? (Part I)

First of all, I don't know how to express this but I'll give it a try: going to Alaska was like coming home.

The light and the air.
The quietude. The serenity.
The soft rustling of birch leaves in the morning breeze.
The feeling of openness—weightlessness, almost.

A lingering sensation of coming really close to something important, something fundamental.

Okay, please stop me before I go all hippie-yoga-yin-yang-flower-child on you. What I'm saying is this: I liked Alaska. Alaska and I are friends. I will most likely need to go back and visit Alaska again sometime.

There, you have it.

Now let's get on with the more chronological description of my journey. I was away for nine days in total, starting in Anchorage and driving north to Talkeetna and Healy/Denali. From there I made a U-turn and headed south to the Kenai peninsula to visit Sterling, Homer, and Seward, before returning to Anchorage and (reluctantly) reality.

Throughout the trip I continuously consulted my copy of the excellent 55 Ways to the Wilderness in Southcentral Alaska (5th ed) for general info and hiking inspiration along the road. I knew roughly where I was going and when, but apart from that framework my activities were not planned in detail. Instead, weather (lovely, in general), mood (stellar, overall), and strangers (friendly, mostly) inspired the day-to-day decision-making.

First hike: Thunderbird Falls (2 miles roundtrip). An easy stroll through a delightful forest of birch trees to a pretty waterfall, and then back the same way. Realization: Washington state sure has a lot of trees, but evergreens aren't quite the same as deciduous forests; I've missed these babies. (Yes, I got a wee bit teary-eyed.)

Next: Bodenberg Butte (south trailhead; 3 miles roundtrip). Up, up, up on a dusty switchback path to the top. Great views. Lots of sweat. Then down, down, down. More sweat.

Next, on to adorable Talkeetna—probably my favorite community of those I visited on this trip. Touristy? Sure, definitely—but in a comforting, low-key kind of way.

My sightseeing started with a walk down to the Susitna River where I got my first real glimpse of the massive Denali (a.k.a. Mount McKinley) on the horizon. I then visited the town's cute little museum, where I was recommended also stopping by at the Ranger Station. There, I watched a film about climbing the intimidating mountain peak, which holds the title North America's highest with its 20,237 feet (6,168 m) above sea level. I was impressed, but not inspired. (Not one bit, actually.)

The night was spent in the bunk house at the homey House of Seven Trees, where I met an eclectic group of guys who had come to Alaska from all sorts of places to get their private pilot licences. A fun crowd and an enjoyable evening.

Wait, hold on—I almost forgot—I got an earthquake for dinner! No, that's not a witty name for some ridiculously spicy Alaskan fireweed chili, but an actual whoa-my-spinach-bread-is-shaking-off-the-table kind of rumble from down below. A mere 4.3 on the Richter scale, but I was beyond excited.

The morning after started with breakfast at the Roadhouse before continuing on towards Healy—my base camp for entering Denali National Park.

I kind of enjoyed traveling that road. It was kind of pretty.

Stay tuned for Part II, featuring bears, blueberries, a monumental mountain, and wet feet. I'm expecting to upload it sometime before Halloween (possibly Thanksgiving).

Obliteridin'!

I'm all oranged up and ready to go go go!

Boo cancer, hurray research!

PS. It's not too late to donate. Go for it!

[Intermission]

”Folks, I apologize for the lack of stunning views over Kachemak Bay, impressive mountains in Denali National Park, and flowering hillsides by Skilak Lake. I...”

”But you promised!” you interrupt, with an accusing glare. ”You promised we would see it all.”

I stare at my toes, nervously shifting my weight back and forth. Left foot. Right foot. Left foot. Right foot. You’re clearly not letting me off with a warning this time.

”We demand pictures! High-resolution photos, preferably, but if it’s going to take forever to upload them then a simple sketch will do. Or a diagram. Perhaps a model, made out of clay? Anything!”

I take a deep breath.

”I promise...” My voice is cracking. ”I promise to give you what we agreed on—I just need some time! Won’t you please give me some more time?!”

The silence that follows is almost unbearable. Suddenly, you shrug, smirking. ”Sure, why not—you’ll get a few more days. But you’d better not disappoint. We won’t be as understanding, next time.”

Baffled, I slowly back away, thanking you over and over in an incoherent ramble; Swedish, English, possibly a bit of Danish. Leaving the room, I turn and start running, my mind blank except for one single thought: how the hell am I going to make a clay model of Resurrection Bay?

The July issue

The latest issue of Science Spotlight went live as I was piloting my little silver Kia Rio from Anchorage to Talkeetna, but as we all know, good things come to those who wait. Here are the links to this month's two stories from the Clinical Research Division:

CGAT: a vital instrument in the prognostic toolbox for AML
Replacing the western: an improved way to measure cell signaling

The first article gives some interesting insights into the world of chromosomal anomalies, and their impact on outcomes for patients with acute myeloid leukemia (AML).

The second was initially entitled ”99 problems but 69 western blots ain’t one”, but although the investigator claimed to appreciate the Jay-Z reference he gracefully suggested something more ”descriptive”. I gave it some thought and reluctantly agreed. Sometimes my self-perceived wittines is just that: self-perceived, as in ’not necessarily perceived by others’.

Enjoy, folks!

Oh. Em. Gee.

I'm back in Seattle, but parts of me wish I weren't (including vital ones like brain and heart). Alaska was everything I could have dreamed of, and more. It will take me a couple of days to catch up at work and get my thoughts and photos in order, but there are plenty of pictures of mountains, fjords and various wild animals to come—don't you worry.

There will be lots of this...

...and this...

...and this.

However, of this, there is only one:

Possibly the best photo of me that will ever be taken. The happiest hiker.

Geronimo!

I think I'm ready. Well, to be honest, I have no idea if I'm ready or not but there is no turning back now. Alaska, here I come!

Please don't be worried if the blog goes quiet during the nine days that I'm gone. I decided not to bring my laptop, so any updates will be completely dependent on whatever computer options I can find along the way. Prepare yourself for an excess of photos on my return...

Be well! I intend to.