In Good Company.

It was a week.

A long, exhausting, and emotional week. You know the kind.

Luckily, it was saved by the precious and few friends I am lucky to know and have in my life. Without them… I shudder to wonder what state I would be in as I sit here at the keyboard now, sane and composed.

It all began last Sunday. After consuming two apparently deadly cocktails the night before, I spent most of the day in bed with a strange and pulsing headache.

Throughout the day, I received get well wishes from my friends and my mom brought me coffee to make me feel better.

Aren’t they the greatest?

Things escalated back up on Tuesday. I had a date planned, was supposed to meet someone for appetizers at Addie and… well, he didn’t show.

After pacing the restaurant and constantly checking my phone like a crazed madwoman, I finally accepted that I had been stood up. Stinging from hurt, angry at being played the fool, and embarrassed for having to sit by myself looking as fine as I did, I fell apart.

As I sat with my back facing the rest of the restaurant, I dramatically looked out the window as the tears slid down my cheeks, desperately hoping I would see a car pull up the drive and rescue me.

He didn’t rescue me, but my dear friend Braeden did. He pulled up chair and joined me for what turned out to be an altogether fabulous meal. And afterwards, he invited me over to watch an Alexander McQueen special (he knows me so well).

It was as we were sitting there that my friend Andrew (head chef of said kitchen that fed me so well) showed up with a bottle of prosecco. On the bottle, he wrote “Elan is a” Headsnapper, which was the brand of bubbles I now held in my hand.

I cried and embraced him, not believing that I had such thoughtful friends like this in my life, who could make a bad day so so good.

Which brings us to Wednesday, or specifically, early Wednesday morning. You know that meal I had? That fabulous meal? Well, it made me sick.

It appears that in an attempt to eat my feelings, I ended up eating too much, which resulted in an entire day spent in my bed, walking from bedroom to bathroom and living on Saltines and ginger beer.

I was visited thrice by friends and family, who dropped off care packages and checked in to see how I was feeling. And yeah, it was the bright spot in my dark day.

The next few days were spent in recovery, both physically and mentally. I went back to work full steam ahead, slowly trained in upping my appetite again (it will be awhile before I can have alcohol again), and before I knew it, it was Saturday.

My 25th birthday.    

Happy Birthday to me!   

And what a birthday it was.

I spent the majority of the day on a hike up to Harding Icefield with my friend Shelby and brother Anton. Put those legs to use and got 8 miles under the belt. What a view that was!

A few hours later, I turned around and threw a “Pink Party” at my house, complete with drinks, desserts, and of course, lots of pink.

As the night wore on, as the candle wicks burned low, as the coupe glasses emptied, and the darkness closed in around my cozy house, I let myself enjoy the evening.

I have the grandest friends, the most caring family. Throughout the week, I went through some things I would much prefer not to have to go through again (I swear if I ever get stood up in the future…) and what got me through them was the support system I often take for granted.

The cake I had was sweet, the drinks were most delightful, but the company that crowded around in my humble home was the best.

It was a birthday spent in good company, and I couldn’t have asked for a better gift than the “presents” of my friends..

(had to throw a pun in there)

Hidden Gem.

Our adventure starts with a rather tight drive through the forest.

Battling through trees that licked all sides of the car, I couldn’t help but wonder what kind of hike I was getting myself into.

This wasn’t going to be an easy one, that much I was discovering, not one of those ordinary “walk through the woods” types.

After surviving the ambush of alders, we made a turn onto an unmarked road and made our way up up up into the mountains, rocks and potholes further adding suspense to what lie ahead.

Tucked in the heart of Cooper Landing, I first heard about about our hike, Cecil Rhodes, from my friend Shelby, whom I was driving with on this particular day. We had been in the middle of hiking Slaughter Gulch, another trail just across the way, and I remember hearing that it was harder than the one we were currently on. And the one we were on at the time was hard, very hard.

But this has been a summer of firsts for me in the hiking department: Skyline, Slaughter, China Poot Peak, Palmer Creek Trail. I felt I couldn’t let the word “hard” stop me from experiencing something potentially spectacular.

I knew it was going to be difficult, had nervously anticipated the journey for days, and after our bumbling drive up through the mountains, we finally arrived at the trailhead, an unmarked and unsuspecting clearing that led into the woods.

The trail began its ascent right at the start, and it didn’t let up until you got to the top. It was one of those toasty summer days, with temperatures rising into the seventies and as we plodded upward, one baby step at a time, a steady stream of sweat began making its way down my face.

It was a struggle, a steep steep struggle.

There were times when I stopped to catch my breath (as I felt it was literally running away from me), and thought, I don’t think I can make it. I mean, I honest to goodness believed I wasn’t going to be strong enough to get to the top, for every time I looked up, a looming peak stood proudly ahead, just out of reach.

But if this hike was easy, everyone would do it.

So I pushed on. I picked up my tired and heavy legs, whispered encouragements to my calves that were burning in exhaustion, and I hiked on, with Shelby leading the way.

And man, when I made it to the top, the view took my breath away.

(this hike as a whole took my breath away, figuratively and literally)

Standing atop crags that stood 4400 feet above Cooper Landing, I couldn’t help but allow a smile of satisfaction spread across my sweaty face.

I did it. I did it!

There was Slaughter Gulch, below. You couldn’t miss the Kenai River, the brilliant blue winding its way across the landscape and out to the Southern Peninsula. Surrounding me on all sides were magnificent mountains, and I felt that God’s creation was showcased before me, on full and brilliant display.

There’s a reason this hike isn’t in the guidebook of hikes to do in Alaska, why the route up the mountain isn’t an easy one to trek, or why there’s not a marker to the entrance to the Cecil Rhodes Trail.

It’s a hidden gem.

Despite the fact that it was the most difficult hike I’ve ever done, it was also the most rewarding. The struggle of finding the right driveway, of traveling through the bush and then having to plow straight up to the top made arriving at the peak that much more meaningful.

It’s amazing to experience places out there in the world that very few know about, that remain hidden and lie in wait for those who are adventurous and brave enough to tackle it, despite it being “hard.”

Course you gotta know the right people that can lead you to its waiting entrance (thank you Shelby!), but if you ever have the opportunity to hike something as extraordinary as Cecil, I encourage you to accept the challenge.

You won’t be disappointed.