For several decades now—blame Northern Exposure and the lure of the elusive (at least for those of us living in most of the lower 48) Northern lights—I periodically dream about living large in the wilds of Alaska.
Call it a romanticized—and totally unrealistic—fantasy of living the life of a “fearless frontier woman.”
Perhaps it is the reason I have acclimated so well to Wyoming.
I can “pretend” to be ‘that frontier woman,’ braving the elements—in my cozy home and car—learning to horseback ride and to go without (the malls, Whole Foods, etc.).
!Pura fantasia!
As much as I have wanted to visit Alaska, I have this abnormal and obsessive fear of bears, grizzlies in particular.
Alaska (as is Wyoming) is full of them.
Yes, my fear is over-the-top (and all who know me know this), in part, though, because I need to talk—work through—my fear(s) to help manage it, especially if I’m heading into grizzly country.
Grizzly country?
The travel books seem to indicate—or at least “my” reading of them—that bears abound in town, or at least in sections of town.
This is, after all, Alaska.
I have been enlightened, however, that “No, there is no need for bear bells” while hiking the trails around town.
You laugh—and you’re right, I have an illness. It’s called “irrational fear” of death by Grizzly.
Again, you laugh.
I will have you know that we all have this illness, in some form or another.
Some of us, unfortunately, have it a bit worse—in “what” we actually fear—than others.
I’m not ashamed to admit that I am one of them.
“Living” here for four days now, I know bears don’t reside on the trails I walk.
It’s too populated and with too many people walking about.
I am not ashamed to admit, though, that when I enter a woodsy and more secluded area, I talk out-loud to myself.
Just in case, you know, a bear has come down from the mountain and I’m its snack list.
No comments:
Post a Comment