If you didn’t see it on my FB page, here is my husband’s explanation for my lack of blog last Monday:
Jolie is off grid. She and K took the pickup and camper Friday morning and went berry picking at Tangle lakes between Glennallen and Fairbanks. No mobile signal. They took 4 boxes of wine and assorted bottles of spirits. Wonder if they will come back with berries?
For the record: We did get berries. GALLONS of berries.
We even found mushrooms.
And the only booze we used up completely was the beer. (So there Mowgli.)
For those wondering, beautiful Tangle lakes is 269.6 miles from my front door. It takes about five and a half hours to drive there (in summer) if you do it in one shot which, of course, requires:
A super-efficient car with a massive fuel tank (F350 carrying 4000lbs of camper? Yeah, no.)
A berry picking partner happy with 5.5 hours in a car (mine was not. In fact she made it clear that if I don’t promise to stop A LOT MORE next trip, there won’t be one.)
Anyway, we made it in about six hours (can you guess who was pleased with that and who was not?)
90 miles of: hairpin turns, steep drop offs, impressive grades and stunning scenery you’re too scared to take your eyes off the road to enjoy.
90 miles of: reasonable roads that, from your perspective, are nectar of the gods and mind-blowing landscape you can appreciate without penalty of death.
90 miles of: a white-knuckle frost heaved roller coaster carved through more countryside that’s probably amazing but you are, again, too focused on not crashing to really take in.
I know. You have just now decided you are NEVER visiting Tangle lakes EVER.
But wait… it’s totally worth it. Just look:
What’s more, it’s fun.
No kids, no husbands (we love you family! But…) all the berries you could want (we wanted GALLONS evidently), hiking trails forever, fire, wine, stars (Aurora one night) and (because we are complete princesses) a generator, heater, TV and Mama Mia DVD.
This is the Alaskan equivalent of a spa weekend.
(For the record: Actual spa weekends are a thing here as well)
And to top it all off, NOT ONE BEAR. Which is weird because they aren’t called “Ber-ries“ for nothing.
It goes to show you that in Alaska, if you’re willing to work for it, there is plenty for everyone. No need to get in each other’s way.
(Yes Mr. Bear, you who trampled and robbed my raspberries last week, I’m talking to YOU. Lazy thief…)
And to my berry partner – please, please, please take me here again! I promise to drive slow, stop, smell roses…