Neither Here Nor There

Bridge over Nisutlin Bay, Teslin, Yukon Territory

For several days--and for several days to come--I'm in a lovely limbo. The summer job is done, and Happy Bus deposited me at the east end of Denali National Park last Sunday. The trip out of the park was alternately fun and quiet, with most of us musing about the next step in our lives. Then the last of the goodbye hugs of friends who've become dear leaving us a little empty between the arms....

And I'm not yet back in Milwaukee where hugs await as I greet other dear friends after four months away. What life will look like there remains to be seen, and the only thing keeping me from pawing the ground in anticipation is the fact of this eight day road trip through fall colors (deep green and brilliant gold in the far north). Night has come again after a summer of light, and stars fill that midnight sky in areas where there is no ambient light. It's cold again: each morning I scrape the frost off the car windows. And as I scrape, it's hard for me not to try and plan and anticipate. I'm an incurable list-maker. Still, with five days left on the road, it makes no sense to start wasting paper jotting down Things-To-Do.

So today, as we left Watson Lake (YT) in the crisp sunshine, we kept the bag with towels, Judy's bathing suit, and my newly purchased "active wear" (sports bra, shorts) on top of the pile in the back seat. On the agenda was a stop at the Liard Hot Springs Provincial Park. I've driven the Alaska Highway five times now (this is the sixth), and each time as I pass the entrance to the park, I say, "Next time I really need to go in there." Then I drive by worried about time, or how far I'll get that evening. But there it sat each time, off in the woods, down a boardwalk, past the Look Out for Bears sign. , Three pools. Three natural steamy pools. You can almost smell the sulphur as you drive by.

Now, remember that it is late September, and this IS far northern British Columbia. We got out of the car, I turned up my collar, got my wool beanie out of the trunk, groaned at the chill breeze...and trip-trapped down the boardwalk after my more determined sister-in-law. We got to the end of the boardwalk, and there among the falling leaves were about ten people floating, reading, soaking, chatting in the steamy water. Because I was grumpy and whining about it being too cold to shuck off my clothing, my sister-in-law shamed me into squirming into that new "active wear," ("You can't come all this way and NOT do it.") and stepping into the water.

Well, let me tell you, I didn't want to come out! The warmth melted all the tension and fatigue accumulated over the summer and on the road, the steam opened sinuses clogged with the inevitable end of summer head cold, and the buoyancy lifted my body and spirits like I didn't think possible. People I'd started to miss terribly suddenly seemed to join me in the joy of the water. And with their imagined laughter in my ears I regained some of the bounce I'd used to move through the summer.

So after a while of paddling about from hot spot to warm, Judy and I got out, dressed again (me in jeans, socks, shoes, tee, flannel shirt, fleece vest, jacket, hat, gloves), and trip-trapped back up the boardwalk to the parking lot. Behind the wheel again, I felt warmed and refreshed, and ready to look at this time between Alaska and Milwaukee as less of a means to an end, and more as another adventure tacked onto an already adventure-packed summer.

Being in limbo or on a bridge between here and there isn't so very bad after all. True, I'm neither there nor there, but I'm here. And here is just fine.