I finally got to visit the state where a good chunk of my YA novel is set.  Our trip was short, only six days, and I saw but a sliver of it in its fairest season, so I may not be qualified to say this, but ALASKA IS FREAKIN’ AWESOME!

I went there with my husband, Mark Funk, and younger son, Charlie, to collect our eldest, Casey, who had spent the last five weeks working on a political campaign. Democrat Steve Lindbeck, who my husband has known since their days at Stanford, is working to unseat Congressman-for-life Don Young.

Now I’m not one to discriminate based on age, but Young has been in office for 43 of his 83 years. Steve thinks, and I agree, it’s time for new leadership. Our family helped him celebrate his Aug. 16 primary win, and I’d love to come back for the general-election party in November, but I’ll be too busy with NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month). Plus, Alaska is cold and dark by then. Guess I’m a fair-weather fan.

We had to take a road trip

Steve’s  home-base is Anchorage, which isn’t as pretty as the mountains and waters surrounding it. In fact, it looks like a flat suburban city, with one important difference. Anchorage’s extensive trail system encourages climate-friendly transportation. Casey never needed a car while he was there. He biked and walked to the office.

In winter, when it snows, the trails are lit and groomed for cross-country skiing. Imagine shushing or pedaling along through the trees and maybe seeing a moose or two on your way to work?

I really, really wanted to see a moose while I was in Alaska. (The taxidermied one at the airport doesn’t count.

Casey saw no moose during his first five weeks. He barely saw Anchorage, spending most of his work and leisure time staring at computer screens.  So we took him with us on a last-hurrah sightseeing trip to Homer and back, with stops in Girdwood (The Bake Shop serves a terrific breakfast), Soldotna (a prime spot for fly fishing, and we slept well at A Cabin by the Pond) and the Alaska Wildlife Conservation Center (well worth a visit).

Okay, I have to say more about the Center. Not only did I see my first real live moose there, but I also saw brown and black bears, elk, wood bison, musk ox, a raven and Snickers the Porcupine.  I tried to get a photo of Snickers, but he was face down in his food dish, and my family was threatening to leave for Homer without me. So I’m glad the Center posted this cute video of him eating corn on the cob.

Homer’s where the heart is . . . and the eagles

As we drove down the stunningly scenic Seward Highway, I wondered, where are all the eagles? I thought eagles in Alaska where as common as pigeons in New York City. But I hadn’t seen a one.

Turns out, they were all in Homer for an eagle convention. Kidding. They were probably with us all along, but I finally started spotting their telltale white heads in Homer. As we drove, I had to point out each and every one to my boys, who weren’t nearly as excited as I was.

“You’re like a five-year-old,” said Charlie, who is 16.

But he was as amazed as I when we went on a guided kayak trip (we used True North Adventures) around Yukon Island and Elephant Rock and were practically buzzed by nesting eagles. We also saw floating sea otters, including one pair that appeared to be embracing, and the far-off fins of killer whales. Actually, Charlie was the one to see the fins. I missed them, probably because I was marveling at a moon jellyfish.

There was no missing the spectacular panoramas of Kachemak Bay and the Kenai Mountains. Thanks to some very generous friends, Cindy Armstrong and MarBeth Johns, we got a free two-night stay in their rustic little cabin with a killer view of peaks and glaciers . . . and porcupines.  Yep.  They come out at night. Mark almost walked into one on his way to the outhouse.

Of course, I didn’t go to Alaska just to collect my son and ooh and aah over the wildlife. I had an ulterior motive. I had to see if I got the details right. You see, I wrote that Alaska section of my novel based mostly on online research and interviews with friends who had been up there.

What I got right

Were my assumptions correct? By and large, yes. I also made some rather lucky guesses.

It really does rain a lot, even in summer, which makes for some big mud puddles. And, yes, there really is a saloon called the Salty Dog, except “Dog” is spelled “Dawg,” and it’s in Homer, not Ketchikan, and the interior is lined with signed dollar bills not fishing memorabilia.

My protagonist’s coming of age hinges on her running away to Alaska. I learned from Casey that the “The Last Frontier” really is a place that matures a person. This was his first time working and living away from home. His hosts, while gracious, expected him to be independent and pull his own weight. Casey came away from the experience more confident and more willing to accept responsibility, qualities that will serve him well when he heads off to Western Washington University this fall.

So some big thank-yous are in order. First to Molly McCammon, a woman I met only in emails, who fed and housed my son the first week and a half. Then to Steve and his wife, Patty Ginsburg, took him in for the remainder of the time (as if a 24/7 political campaign isn’t stressful enough). And, of course, Cindy and MarBeth, who showed us endless hospitality and helped make our trip to Alaska an actual vacation.

I hope to see you all soon . . . Okay, maybe not this winter, but spring?

Can you say, “Baby moose?”