Finding myself in the books I read

The time since my last post has been great. We finally started rafting down the Koyukuk River, which had previously been too high. The areas mountains surround in a canopy of green, rocky peaks which still have a slight dusting of snow. It wont be long before thats gone too. Glimpsed a moose this week, who had a puzzled look at us as we floated by on our blue contraption.

Finally saw a grizzly bear going for a jog next to a lake as I drove by. This was cool, although not an adventure by any means. You've got to be in their environment to really appreciate it, a drive by glimpse is only the beginning.

We also have the worst mosquitos I've ever seen. When I heard the "mozzies" were bad here, I figured yeah, just like the other 19 countries I've been to. Everybody says that. Huh. Not here, I've seen swarms into the hundreds over myself, not even in tropical jungles on the equator have I seen that sorta thing. Oh well. I wear a bug headnet/jacket combo religously now, it just goes with the terriotory I suppose.

I've found myself reading alot, more than I thought I would here. It wont be long and I'll need to order more books off Amazon. Until then I've got a few more expedition story kinda books, all feeding my desire to adventure. Although Alaska is prime for many such pursuits, I already find myself desiring whatever is over that next ridge, next hill, next border. I find my own feelings written in the memoirs of the explorers and adventurers who went before me, whether in the pages of T.E. Lawrence or Sven Hedin. Tristan in "Legends of the Fall" comes to mind. This is only a subtle sign to me that I will go galivanting off once more after Alaska, that a wild heart is a truely hard thing to tame.

Where that shall be, I know not, and that is the first step in any adventure... going into the unknown.