January 1960

The Jeep Road

As we wend our way home – I drink in the beauty I see around me and think – “Finally, I’m going HOME.”

I never thought I’d miss a place so remote and strange as this.  I remember when I first came and I though “I cannot live this far away! – from people, bright lights and city things.  I’ll surely be lonely and afraid.”

But instead a peace came tome – I relaxed and was unafraid.

The road to our homestead is full of bumps.  It’s a rough one and has many jolts.  But I wouldn’t trade it for a freeway.  Smooth, easy riding, swift and modern.

— surely things would not remain the same

The moose and beaver, the squirrels and bear would soon hasten to find new homes.  They would be afraid to stay.

Would the sun shine so brightly?  If the cities came to us – or would it’s ways be filtered through the city dust.

Would the skies be so clear and blue if the traffic came right through –

Would the air be like wine or would it be choking and would my eyes sting all the time?

I could not bear to stay and see it change –

From a place so serene to one of hustle and bustle – to one of modern ways.

I once thought “I cannot leave the conveniences behind.”

But I found so much to replace them and came to understand . . . .

The beauties that surround us – for all to enjoy – I think of all these things as we wend our way HOME –

I drink in the scenery.  I was so thirsty –I’ve been half-starved – since I left this wilderness area.

My heart cries out “Don’t leave again!”

My soul is nurtured and so is my brain.

I look around me – oh, such peace envelopes my body as I sink into bliss –

We’re going HOME

The mountains are etched in rose – just as if a small child – or God had outlined them with a pink crayon –

The sun is setting – so early indeed – as this is Alaska in winter – a scene so different than any I’ve ever seen.

The trees bend down with their burden of snow.

The world is all white except for the sun setting in crimson and gold.

We ride on – and I’m grateful to be going HOME!

– – –

Written by a woman who had come from the city to homestead and although had loved the wilderness had an unaccountable desire to return to the city.  She left in the fall and returned in the early winter – never to live elsewhere again.

[Linda note:  Not sure if she means with her second reference to ‘city’ it being the log house in Eagle River?]