Greetings, cherished Chaos-Navigators!
As the midnight sun casts its relentless glow across the Alaskan skies, I find myself at a reflective pause in our journey—a moment as bittersweet as the last morsel of chocolate from your favorite bar, savored but mourned in the same bite.
The past two months have whirled by with the swiftness of an Arctic tern on a tailwind. I confess, my fingers have faltered at the keyboard, leaving our blog quieter than a snowfall in June. Fear not, for while I’ve been remiss in updates, my mother—bless her digital savviness—has been a veritable chronicler of our escapades on her Facebook page. Ah, you can bask in the glow of her photographs under the banner of Maureen Smith McGarrity, whose profile is graced by the serene kiss of a sunset.
Alas, today was a day of tender partings. I’ve just returned from the airport where I bade farewell to my mother, who’s now winging her way back to Ontario. Dropping her off was akin to closing a beloved book—you’re grateful for the story but oh, how you miss the characters. For two entire months, we were companions not just in travel, but in every laughter-laced and snarl-sprinkled moment that life on the road can concoct.
Our travels took us to the hearts of mechanics as golden as the Klondike itself, and to reunions with friends whose places in my life are as irreplaceable as the stars in the sky. The landscapes we traversed were a mix of majestically monotonous and breathtakingly diverse, painting our journey with strokes wide and wild. Yes, we have amassed a gallery of landscapes so vast I fear we may never match photos with their geographic muses again!
From ghostly echoes in mining towns that still thrum with the fever of the gold rush, to the fresh faces of new friends who spun their tales into the tapestry of our travels, every mile was a story, every story a treasure.
Most cherished of all, though, were the moments with my mom. Whether we were laughing till our sides ached, navigating the cramped quarters of our beloved van with all the grace of a dance in shoes two sizes too big, or sipping on sour toes (a cocktail you must experience in Dawson City), every second was a gem in the crown of life
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Though the road stretches onward and the absence of her presence is a void as vast as the Yukon itself, the journey continues. Stay tuned to the “stories” section, where soon, I’ll share the tales of incredible souls doing incredible things in this incredible land.
For now, I hold tight to the wheel, to the memories, and to the promise of tomorrow’s roads. Because, after all, it isn’t about the destination—it’s about every precious moment of the journey.
Until next time, keep navigating the chaos with grace and humor… Photos when I have enough bandwidth!
