We are driving north on Lutak Road, looking for the Chilkoot Lake State Recreation Site, which is about 10 miles away. With nothing else to do today before orientation for the Alsek River journey that starts tomorrow, we are free to take as long as possible on our 20-mile roundtrip adventure.

Big things are all around you, as that’s the nature of being in Alaska. That stuff is easy to see. To stop and check out the small stuff instead of remaining in constant jaw-dropping awe is the hard part.

And so we walk. We pull over and go check out some hundreds of feet of terrain on the off-chance we might find a bone of some sort or be witness to an eagle swooping down to grab a fish before flying off.

We might see the mountains again, and we might gaze upon the sea from the same spot at some time in the future; while those places may look nearly identical, these pieces of driftwood strewn about and the wildflowers will never be seen in just the same configuration ever again. I consider it likely that Caroline and I will have been the only humans ever to see just this spot.

This can’t be the first time I’ve wondered out loud about why it is particularly these scenes that are so captivating; I think it’s because we can share this as a group experience if more than one of us is here looking out at it. We can share our enthusiasm for how spectacular we agree it is as compared to looking at something where we have to direct other people’s interest to some tiny element that may only be obvious to us. The expediency of finding commonalities when we are uncertain about other people’s attention spans might be a factor, too.

I like green moss, and I cannot lie, but it’s the contrast between gray, blue, and the many shades of green that really draws me in.

We have reached the Chilkoot Lake State Recreation Site and will need a boat to go further, except we don’t happen to have a boat with us.

So we will look out from the shore and dream of the day we could set out in a raft and just float around aimlessly, watching the weather change.

Hello belted kingfisher, we worship before you the place you call home. We wish you a long life, finding an abundance of fish and tadpoles within these waters you watch over. I hope that we humans do not foul our environment because without you, the other creatures, the trees, moss, various plants, and elements, we might as well be on Mars.

Imagine immersing yourself in buffets with all of the generic foodstuffs you’ve grown up with, maybe there are slot machines, movies, TV, heated pools, and live entertainment. You are part of a cruise ship ecosystem, and then, in a minute, you and your drinking friends disembark at a random port, and like a herd of 1000 cattle, you wander into town ruminating on your lunch of burgers, fries, and margarita, looking for the perfect token that will prove to everyone back home that you went to Alaska on some wild adventure. From your heated cabin, you’ll have looked out at snow-capped mountains, seen whales swimming by, and maybe caught a glimpse of a bear. I suppose this is good enough as at least you left the comfort of home, or did you?

Tonight, we’ll pack our bags and leave a few things behind that are not needed on a river trip where we have to travel light. We’ll be meeting everyone else who’s on the journey with us and sharing our first meal together. I, for one, will have jittery nerves as getting on fast-moving ice-cold water through a wilderness is still a bit intimidating to me. But that’s exactly what we came for.