summer in Alaska

 We dubbed ourselves the Copper River Team; three couples, three babies and one mighty river. Our babes, from left to right are 8 months old (Fiona or "Fona" as Adelaide lovingly calls her), 10 months (Paxson) and 2 years (Little Ladie). I thought for sure I would have the hardest time with our independent little one, but given our conditions those other Mums did it tough.

The week preceding recorded some of Alaska's highest highs ever ('Ooh, I wonder if I've brought enough shorts for us all?' I wondered on the drive to the river) and so with snow melt and the pressure system trying to balance the coastal/inland discrepancy, this Copper River of ours became a funnel of constant wind with water levels recorded at 15 year highs. And after the first day of relative clear, it rained on us all day and all night for five days.

"This is not summer," you would have heard me grumble, "Why do you even call it summer? They need to create a different word for whatever this season is in the north, it's not Spring and it's not Autumn but it friggin; well isn't summer."

All graciousness left this Mama. It rained and rained and it was cold and we schlepped gear, babies and boats all day. We had none of the perks of wilderness tripping but all of the hard work. Those other Mama's couldn't even put their wee ones down as it was always muddy, silty and wet ground. For six days they carried their babes while our Mountain Dad's lugged gear and rowed boats (though those awesome women took their turn of rowing as well, while I sat rotund and preggers in a makeshift tent rigged in the bow of our raft).

The company was incredible, I've never experienced the likes of it before. Such easy-going, considerate and caring folk. I knew I wasn't in Australia anymore when at one pre-trip meeting one of our Mountain Dad's suggested we all discuss our feelings or apprehensions about the trip. To have it on the table and acknowledged before we hit the water. You wouldn't catch an Aussie guy seeking input on group feelings.

And we did have moments of heightened emotion. A big set of rapids with grizzlies barring the portage. Breastfeeding in a puddle while the rain poured down and the baby was miles away from Mum's body due to layers of clothing and PFD's (or "My TV" as Adelaide calls it). Wet bedding.

And the Mounatins Dad's just kept on working.

Next year the Mama's choose where we go - somewhere hot and dry is on the cards.