When I think back on Alaska, the only word that really comes to mind is:

Wonder.

Everywhere we (myself and my husband, Matthew) turned we were caught in an endless delight. The terrain was simultaneous unforgiving and poetic, harsh and inviting, ruthless and delicate. To be honest, each step I took into this corner of the world unhinged my expectations from the reality. I had seen mountains (Colorado, New Mexico), wildlife in various places (Man of War Jellyfish in Bermuda), hiked beyond my capacity (Maui), been caught in exultant rapture at the sight of a delicate wildflower (Scottish Highlands) - but this was different.

It was everything I had ever experienced in travel and yet nothing like it at all.

It took all of the highs and the lows and supersized them. Every idea I had about Alaska was completely right, but not to scale. Somehow, in my mind, I had created a half-sized idea of what Alaska was in the terms of scope and scale and majesty. This led to my mind being absolutely rocketed out of the stratosphere every time I saw any part of her formidable landscape. Now I almost feel a shade grief for how greatly I underestimated this place is until my 34th year.

Now I could further wax poetic about the 49th state. I could weave together parallels, metaphors, and paint images that would make you weep. I could do that, but that is not why you are here.

Heck.

This is a photography blog.

You are probably sitting here wondering why I am still typing. Isn’t an image worth 1,000 words (unless you are a search engine)? And yeah. I get it. But also even as these images capture 1,000 words, there are at least 2,000 ideas per image that escape me.

How do I tell you how amazing it was to kayak to a glacier? To be over half-a-mile away from its face and still feel like I could climb it even though we were a mile away (them glaciers are HUGE)? How do I tell you that it sounded like thunder when it calved ice into the sea, but that the sound didn’t match the action (how we knew our distance)? Or the fact that what I saw looked like marbles coming off the front, but that the pieces were the size of refrigerators?

How do I tell you how blue a glacier is?

How heavy a can of bear spray is after carrying it several miles and thousands of feet of incline?

How precious and cool the braided glacier rivers were against my hands?

How the shifting colors of minerals and mosses wove together to create the most tender tapestry?

How do I express that everywhere you look - everything is beyond enormous?

How do I tell you I did this with my best friend, my love, my husband, and that he was the most amazing person to journey with as we saw things I could not believe we were seeing (Happy ten year anniversary, babe!)?

How do I tell you about that?

Well. I suppose I show you through pictures.

Now I have to give a bit of a disclaimer here… I am not a wildlife photographer. I am not someone who specializes in landscapes or the creatures that live in those places. The gear, patience, blood, sweat, and tears that goes into capturing those perfect animal images where it feels like you are RIGHT THERE is not something I have. To purchase that kind of equipment I would have to sink well over $10K just to get the decent stuff, and then probably would have spent my entire vacation camped out in one spot just hoping to get what I wanted photographically. So as appealing as that sounded (not at all) I opted for a different track.

I didn’t want to go to Alaska (entirely) as a photographer (because I obviously cannot separate myself entirely from this). I wanted to turn down that switch in my brain and just enjoy everything around me without worrying if I would get that perfect shot. Because that was not what this trip was about.

This trip was about celebrating ten years of marriage, fifteen years of togetherness, with the best man I know. This trip was about real time spent together. It was about building unforgettable memories side-by-side. And it is a challenge to be side-by-side with a camera in between you.

So all that to say: