While paddling the Yukon, I stumbled upon a lone wolf pup cowering in the bushes along the riverbank, crying out for his mother. The sight stopped me in my tracks. I hovered there, treading water in my kayak, as he wailed. And the sky wept with him, the rain relentlessly beating down on our heads. It was the reason why I couldn’t bear to stay for long. Caught up in my own misery over being wet and cold, I tore my eyes away from him and paddled on after only thirty minutes.
At the time I thought, Surely his mother will return soon. There’s nothing for me to do. Likely, she was off hunting, and he had wandered out of their den only to lose track of where it was, but a few feet away, and panicked.
Still, in the days that followed, I fantasized — if only to quell my boredom, as what else is there to do while paddling but fantasize? — about taking him and raising him as my own, had he been abandoned by his mother. Getting him out of the backcountry would be the hardest part. It’s illegal to keep wolves as pets in Alaska. So long as I remained there I’d have to face the threat of detection. Alternatively, I could pour all my money, and then some credit cards, into trying to smuggle him to a safe state in the lower 48, but that would mean risking arrest at the border. No matter what, I’d be putting my neck on the line. It would be a crime to have him in my arms. I couldn’t return home to friends and family in North Carolina. I would have to drop out of school, quit my job, and find a remote cabin away from civilization in which to raise him to adulthood in the hopes of then releasing him back into the wild. And for all that, people would call me crazy, stupid. They’d laugh at me, condemn me, but I wouldn’t care, and I’d do it, anyway. I would uproot my life, throw away all my plans for the immediate future, and devote myself entirely to him.
As this fantasy played out in my mind, it slowly dawned on me that, I can’t think of anything that would make me happier in life for a time, a brighter future. A sudden conviction overcame me, only with no outlet for it. And then, all too late, it hit me like a freight train, His mother might not have returned … and if she hadn’t, that means I left him to die alone.
I’ll never really know.
All I do know is that in the days that followed, something in me changed. I would wake up in the night to the thought of the wolf pup, awash with regret, and he would haunt my waking thoughts all the same. Being on the river with nothing but your mind for company, it’s easy to rabbit hole on a subject such as this. My drive to finish paddling the Yukon sputtered. I felt, suddenly, uninspired. Disillusioned. Mourning what could have been. Because what were the chances that my path would cross with this wolf pup’s? And how could I have left him while he was still crying at the top of his lungs all by himself? I wish I had waited there in the rain, however long it took, to be sure that his mother came back. I feel like I was at a crossroads without knowing it at that moment, and I walked down the wrong path.
Even when it was too late to go back for answers on the wolf pup, I could not shake this brain fog that had come over me. He became the most unexpected catalyst, opening my eyes to the startling realization that I did not want to go back to my previous life at college in Asheville. Something I thought had been set in stone, my guaranteed future, now felt meaningless. The sweet relief I had tasted at the very thought of being able to forgo it was something I couldn’t take back.
Apologies to my family for having to receive my overly dramatic, idiosyncratic comments during this time. 🤣 “I don’t know what I’m going to do when this river ends in a week. Be swallowed up by the Bering Sea maybe.” “I want to just lie down in a field somewhere and become part of the grass.” “I wish I could float down the river indefinitely like a time loop.” “I am really sad the journey is over. Feels like I’m leaving a part of myself behind.”
A week before reaching the Bering Sea, I found my out. I learned that a Bachelors degree isn’t necessary to apply to vet school, all you need is to take certain prerequisite courses which can be done at any accredited 2 or 4 year institution. Meaning, all along, I had no reason to go to UNCA. I wasted months and wracked up thousands in student loan debt for NOTHING!
This news really rocked me, but it was the answer to my prayers too, shattering any bonds I had to UNCA. From here, I could go to community college online instead, freeing me up to live anywhere I please.
The one positive thing about my time at UNCA was that it provided me with your typical in-person college experience I felt that all my peers were having, something I didn’t want to miss out on since I did high school virtually, isolated in my bedroom as a teen. But, in reality, it just showed me that I wasn’t missing out on anything worthwhile!
One day I’ll build my own cabin in Alaska. Something sweet and simple and seasonal, but I know I must make it myself with my own two hands to want it, that will be half the fun. I have been charmed wildly by all the little cabins along the Yukon river open to paddlers. And learning that there are no property taxes in Alaska on rural allotments, plus generous subsistence harvesting/hunting rights for landowners, has sealed the deal for me. ‘Suppose it will be a good decade or two until I can afford my own cabin, but it does not feel very far away, especially when simply holding such conviction in my heart brings me joy.
A part of me wishes the Yukon River would go on forever. Coming to the end is like finishing a good book. I’ve raced through the pages, excited to see what comes next, but then, just like that, it’s all over! Makes for a much unwanted goodbye to a much loved adventure. All the while, it has opened my eyes to the majesty of Alaska!
While a large part of me didn’t want to leave Alaska this summer, I couldn’t find a good enough reason to stay either, so I’ve returned to Lopez Island, where half of my heart lives. Finley! Along with my friends Sea and Karen. (Thank you Sea & Karen for letting me stay again!! 😃)
If you look closely, you’ll notice that the horse pictured on the right is not Finley. It’s Reddy! The first horse I ever rode. This photo of us was taken three years ago when I first lived on Lopez. Reddy is in his 30s, his golden years.
My mom came to visit me on Lopez which called for an impromptu photoshoot with Finley!
Where will you go from here, Gin?!
The answer to that is still unfolding …
As something that I never imagined would capture my attention has … dog sledding!
My hope is to find a kennel in Alaska this winter to work in exchange for room-and-board and mushing lessons. Then, once I’ve gained enough experience, I’d like to assemble my own team of dogs to cross Alaska over the span of 2-3 months. While I recognize the importance in having the best dogs suited for the job, I’m keen on taking on rescue dogs, if at all possible, and training them up myself.
At least that’s the dream, as hazy and faraway as it currently seems. Heading into this new world feels like starting a good book. I’m on page 1. I have everything to learn, all the questions and none of the answers, and it’s daunting, but there’s something so exciting and gratifying about it, too. I can’t tell you how many times I have finished a good book and been sad, knowing I could never read it for the first time again.
The photos below belong to Will Forsberg, who first encouraged me to go to Alaska years ago. In fact, his last message to me read, “But I should warn you if you go to Alaska for one summer you might not ever leave there. It’s that nice!” You were right, Will, I want to go back! I know he would get such a kick out of hearing about how I finally made it. And, oh, what I wouldn’t give to pick his brain about dog sledding now. I wish I had had the sense to pursue it back when he tried to set me up for a season with a musher in 2019.
At my funeral, I imagine people will talk at length about my adventures, and that makes sense, but it’s a little bittersweet for me to consider, as the most important part of my life, to me, has always been my pets. Aside from my family, I have known no greater love than from my animals. Sometimes, often, they’ve been my only friends. I measure the years of my childhood by which I loved and lost when. Into adulthood, they have served as my ultimate muse, their spirits carrying me forward each day.
So being able to combine my two passions – animals and adventuring – with dog sledding, like with long riding, would be a wonder!
I’ve wanted a dog by my side for years. In preparing to walk across America, I nearly adopted a shepherd mix named Faith. When I found out that she couldn’t walk on a leash, I didn’t get her, but I named my googly-eyed stroller Faith in her place. Then, early on in my trip, I found a dog collar discarded in the road and carried it with me the rest of the way to the Pacific Ocean. I fastened another dog collar to my saddle as a makeshift night latch strap while riding cross country on horseback. In both instances, I quietly hoped that having such a collar in my possession would help manifest my dream dog, but it wasn’t meant to be, I suppose.
Pictured on the left is the aforementioned Faith. Pictured on the right is a dog I met in Nevada named Juniper, owned by fellow long rider and ADT state coordinator, Samantha Szesciorka. Back then I had no idea long riding existed or that I would one day be involved in such a wild thing!
OR
… there is horseback riding across Australia!
An idea that remains on the forefront of my mind as well. I would go east to west, or vice versa, on a southerly route rather than follow the Bicentennial Trail. In my wildest dreams, the journey would involve taming my own brumby to ride with a pack camel in tow. While mustangs are a federally protected species in the U.S., romanticized and idolized for being symbols of the Wild West, representing freedom and frontier spirit, brumbies are vilified for being invasive in Australia and routinely machine gunned from helicopters en masse. So I’d like to save one. I’m not sure how brumbies compare in conformation to mustangs, whether they are as suitable for long riding. That’d be something for me to discover. I have no experience with camels either but, as far as I’m concerned, that’s all the more reason to befriend one, to learn how. Of course, what’s most important in long riding is to find the best mount(s), irrelevant of breed, so I wouldn’t be too picky. I’d be just as happy with two horses of another kind.
More to come ….
Now …………. drum roll please ………… meet Wispy aka Lady Wisteria! 🐤
My housemate on Lopez got a batch of chicks in, and I’ve claimed this one as my own. She loves raspberries!
Here Wispy is hiding in the sleeve of my shirt. She’s very shy. Oh look! There she is in my lap where you can catch a much better glimpse of her beauty and splendor.
Here Wispy got upset because I was making dinner for myself while she was in bed so she flew onto my shoulder from across the room.
Sometimes she mistakes my lips for wiggling worms. Honest mistake.
Here Wispy is being a little too co-dependent (a continuation of the scene above). “If you aren’t going to bed yet, neither am I! Also what are you cooking?”
Here Wispy is fast asleep, snuggled in my arms. She’s remarkably good about not soiling the bed overnight but that’s bound to change as she gets older so a diaper may be in order! Though by the time she’s grown, I suppose I’ll be gone …
Wispy is the best alarm clock in the morning. Around 7 or 8 a.m., she steps on my head. And if that’s not enough to wake me, she’ll start pecking at my face. And I love it! I’m a lazy bag of bones who always oversleeps-seriously, it’s one of my worst habits! So Wispy keeps me honest and up early to get her breakfast! (Amusingly, Wispy is at the very bottom of the pecking order with the other chicks her size but that doesn’t stop her from enjoying bossing my giant human self around.)
Well, enough squawking!
No doubt most people who visit my blog do so by accident and immediately, frantically “x” out of it, but for the few of you who come here on purpose, you must be wondering–
What other adventures do you have in store, Gin?!
The honest answer is that I have none planned, only ideas. Here they are! (I also welcome ALL suggestions!! 😀 )
Kayaking Across Europe
Read More
More Kayaking Around Alaska
Read More
✨ Impossible Fantasies✨
Read More
However, I’m not sure I’ll embark on another big adventure after 2026!
Adventuring has defined my life for the past 5 years, and I’ve been happy for it too, but one of these days I’d like to settle down, too. Heck, I’m 24 and I’ve never even kissed a man before. I’m very old fashioned. I’ve only ever wanted to find the right person to marry, and I haven’t. Granted, I’ve never actively tried dating, and I’m rarely around people my own age. Suffice to say adventuring has set me apart in more ways than one.
Yet, ultimately, I think love is life’s greatest adventure, so my hope is to get married and have my first child before I turn 30. I also dream of building my own home in the countryside, to live quietly, and simply. And, as we speak, I’m still chipping away at college classes on the side to be able to apply to vet school, if life takes me in that direction career-wise … who knows!
Then again, there is a way in which I feel like adventuring is what I am uniquely adept at doing, and perhaps I should stop denying it to myself!! Especially while I am still young, and uncommitted, and in my physical prime. All the more reasons to embrace my passion for adventure, guilt free, at least for another year or two!
A parting shot of Finley, who has developed a bit of a Buddah belly this summer. A supreme Dad bod. He says, “It’s what the ladies like,” but I’m not so convinced. He also says “Hey, you’re no spring chicken, either!” I concur. I, too, could afford to lose a few pounds. Somehow Finley and I always wind up in the same boat. Though if I go to Alaska again this winter, it’s probably smart to be packing some extra pounds for insulation. Least I get stranded in the snow somewhere and have to run on reserves. Finley says, “Aha! See, it’s practical to be fat in the wild!”
Touché.
Lastly, Finley says, “You know it’s crazy to pretend to have conversations with me when you’re really just talking to yourself, right?” Now that I strongly disagree with!
Until very recently … I thought 24 would be an uneventful age for me. I was meant to spend the entirety of it at college, all my day’s perfectly plotted. But deep down that never sat right with me. I feared that bidding my time would feel more like wasting my time. That, if my spirit was forced to sleep, it would be restless, not well rested.
Now, with my sudden change of plans, 24 feels full of unknowns in the very best way.
I’m excited to see what this next year brings!
So often in life it feels like someone else is holding my hand and pulling me along and I’m just in for the ride.
And what an honor it is to be!
