The crisis is over. Gordongroup a rapidly fading memory. The Sponsor is paying to redevelop the light bulb plan. My sidewalk is dusted with apple blossoms. All’s well.
I’m a bag of nerves.
Maybe I need crisis. Maybe this is just the wave receding. I went for a run yesterday and nearly croaked at 3k. And next week I’m going to be paddling a sea kayak in Glacier Bay. Right. I hope there’s no wind.
The Alaska Tourist Authority has invited me on a press trip, my first since Wales in ’04. I’ll be spending 6 days in national parks that skirt the southern shore from Prince William Sound past Valdez to Anchorage. The neat thing is, I have no idea what to expect. When I went back to Jordan in ’02, I was ready for the desert. Hungary in ’03 was stangely familiar — Budapest was brilliant. But my mind can’t grasp glaciers. I’ve been told to pack lightly because the bush planes have weight restrictions. The guidebooks warn of hidden fissures and crevasses “up to 400 ft deep” the “swallow unsuspecting tourists.” Aside from the wind and the killer whales, kayaking comes with the risk of upset from mini tsunamis from calving glaciers. The Fodor guide says to listen for “thunder-like cracking, followed by 10-storey chunks falling into the bay.” Crisis. I love it.
