If I had to choose one word besides “awesome” to describe Alaska, it would be the word “vast.” Alaska is over one-third the size of the lower 48, and a great deal of it is unreachable by either the road system or the Alaska Marine Ferry. Journeys to many villages, wilderness cabins, national park trails and off-the-grid adventures require a drop-off by a bush pilot.
If you want to get away from it all, try traveling through the vastness of Alaska in your own vehicle. The few roads that exist have long stretches between cities and towns. Although there may be hundreds of cars on the same highway, you still might not be passed by another car for hours. And then there are the less traveled, rugged roads like the Dalton Highway, Top of the World Highway, the Denali Highway and the McCarthy Road. For me, solo venturing on these roads was truly following a spiritual “road less traveled,” and I rejoiced being absorbed into the scenery dotted by wildlife, tundra, glaciated mountain slopes and braided rivers. My spirit soared with the eagles and sang with the trumpeter swans.
I entered the Wrangell-St. Elias National Park via the unpaved, rough and rocky 60 mile McCarthy Road from Chitina to the Kennicott river foot bridge, the foot bridge that leads to the towns of McCarthy and Kennecott. Stopping for pot holes and the beauty along the way made for an all-day trip. At one point, the surface of the road disappeared into mud produced by a flash flood the previous day. While photographing the patterns made by the cracked and drying mud I noticed fresh bear prints. Perhaps the bear, most likely a black bear, was watching me from the woods.
The road follows the route of the now non-existent CRNW Railroad. Five miles from where the road ends is the Kennecott Mines National Historic Landmark where history still comes alive. A nation hungry for copper went to incredible lengths to extract it from this formidable terrain and climate (think winter). Copper was needed especially for conducting electricity.

Boiler room for mining operations
The Kennicott Valley lies along an extensive ore stream where generations of Ahtna people collected native copper, working it into art, utensils, and arrowheads. I learned that, though the mine’s name is spelled with an “e,” the names of the town, glacier and river are spelled with an “i†after naturalist Robert Kennicott.
Developing the rich body of ore required tremendous effort, ingenuity and money. Â In the early 1900’s one could not find any more wealthy backers than the Havemeyer, Guggenheim, and J. P. Morgan families, and, as today, the rich became richer.
In its short life, Kennecott Mine produced 200-300 million dollars worth of copper and silver.  By the time of its closure in 1938, when the copper ore went dry, there were 100 buildings in the now abandoned camp. Today over thirty structures remain in various conditions. The rules say that you can take home as much rock and ore as you wish, but you may not take a rusty nut or bolt or sliver of wood because they are “historical artifacts.” This includes the piles of what we would consider garbage.

Kennecott Mine Litter
At the historic landmark you will find lots of graphic shapes in the decaying details of the mine buildings and enjoy incredible, vast vistas, the latter best viewed from a plane (image above). Wrangell-St. Elias is the largest U.S. national park. It is the size of six Yellowstones, with peaks upon peaks and glacier after glacier. I kept singing Mountain Mother (Ancient Mother) here. I did not find any copper ore but visually realized, “She is everywhere!â€
At 10 PM, I walked to a viewpoint overlooking the Kennicott Glacier and sang the grandmother invocation.  I stopped when I got to the stanza, “Grandmother, I see you sitting in earth,” and I made a small circle of rocks, stood in it, and finished singing. — And still I sing, “Grandmother, I feel you sitting in my heart, you are sacred, and you are looking at me …” The stones, the ‘ebens’ that came out of the belly of the earth surrounding copper ore and memories of times before humans dug them up, are still a memorial to your everlasting love.

Tundra ponds on the McCarthy Rd.
I can’t forget an exhibit I saw on my first journey to Alaska in 2008. It was produced by the Calista Elders Council and the Anchorage Museum, and it included items that represented the traditional ways of life and technology used by the Yup’ik people.
Stopping at the Native Alaskan Heritage Center just north of Anchorage, I enjoyed the Yup’ik dancers themselves. By mid-August the young women and men dancers have started returning to high school and college, leaving the elders and pre-schoolers to make the presentations. Many of the dances show the activities of their traditional life, like seal hunting and whaling, but, as they explained, new songs are also being created to show the Yup’ik way of life in the modern world. With smiles from cheek to cheek, the grandmothers danced to a song about playing basketball.
Hewed from the permafrost over five brief months in 1974, the highway originally served as an access road for the construction of the Trans-Alaska Pipeline, which itself was built from 1975 to 1977 after oil was discovered on Alaska’s North Slope. Opened to the public in 1994, today’s Dalton continues primarily as a haul road for the speeding eighteen-wheelers transporting everything from apple sauce to Therma-steel panels for the oil-field workers living with the scarcities of Deadhorse.
The highway boasts the longest stretch of unserviced road on the North American continent. Just three gas stations: Mile 54 (Yukon River Crossing – at left), Mile 175 (Coldfoot) and mile 414 at Deadhorse.
Within moments of stepping outside our doors we hear and see birds, and it’s true anywhere in the world, in city or country, in deserts or jungles. For me, birds represent a spirit of freedom and joy that lifts my soul and brings me to song. They are the most mobile of all of the creatures on our planet – they can fly, in principle, to anywhere they please.
Presently we are surrounded by devastating wildfires, mass shootings, the dismantling of EPA policies, and regression to a time that attacks women’s health and reproductive rights as well as the civil rights and protection of transgender persons, immigrants, and those racially profiled. To face each day we need our souls uplifted and a joyous song in our heart. Let’s fly with the birds!
Puffins spend their entire lives at sea, coming ashore only to raise their young. They often gorge themselves on small fish to the point that they become too heavy to lift themselves from the ground. Both the male and female adults brood the egg. Upon hatching, both parents take turns providing the young chick with a steady diet of fish. When the puffin chicks fledge, they leave the nest at night in order to avoid predators, fluttering down to the water’s edge alone and heading for the open sea. They won’t return to land again for two to three years when they become breeding adults at the rookery.
A breeding pair of puffins puts its entire energy into just one egg. This strategy aims for a very high success rate, one that must consider annual changes in food availability. In studies conducted by the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service, the overall successful fledging of chicks for Tufted Puffins (above) is 65 percent and for Horned Puffins, 60 percent.
The Inuit people of Alaska used puffin skins to make feather-lined parkas. Beak plates were collected and strung together to form rattles used by the shaman in rituals, and the Aleuts and the Inuits sewed beak plates for decoration on the outside of their garments.
The Tufted Puffin also has white facial feathers and colorful beak plates, but a black body with the addition of two tufts of yellow feathers atop its head distinguishes this species. While both puffins stand 15 inches tall, the Tufted Puffin is heavier at an average of 1.7 pounds, and the Horned Puffin weighs in at an average of 1.4 pounds. The weight difference seems minimal, but for a bird that must beat its wings 400 times a minute to stay aloft, every ounce is crucial. The swift flight of both puffin species makes it difficult to photograph them airborne. But it is well worth the try.

It is said that Mother Nature has her favorites and Valdez is near the top of the list. Even the drive into Valdez is spectacular. Proclaimed as one of “America’s Most Scenic Roads†and known to Alaskans as the “Adventure Corridor,†the drive provides breathtaking views of incredible scenery – glaciers, waterfalls, and towering mountains. Once in Valdez, however, the views of the majestic awe and wonder surrounding the bay are not guaranteed, for they are often lost in heavy fog.
My favorite way to cut through the fog (and ice) of Prince William Sound is via the Lulu Belle. Captain Fred Rodolf gently guides his boat along the coastline and into the open ocean waters to get to the terminus of the mighty Columbia Glacier some forty miles out of port.
Captain Fred has been at the helm of the 
When British explorers first surveyed the glacier in 1794, its nose – or terminus, extended south to the northern edge of Heather Island, a small island near the mouth of Columbia Bay. The glacier held that position until 1980, when it began a rapid retreat that continues today. Over the past three decades, the terminus has retreated more than 12 miles to the north.
images: Valdez Reflection, Bridal Veil Falls, Otters on Iceberg, Eagle in Tree, Columbia’s Main Terminus, Icebergs and section of Columbia Glacier, Stellar Sea Lion Catches Pink Salmon, Valdez Harbor Fishing Boats Waiting for the Go Ahead (below)
The whole time she was nursing, the sow was listening and watching the movements in the river. When a Silver Salmon flashed in the current, her eyes followed its path. Suddenly she rolled the cubs off her, milk still squirting from her like geysers, and jumped into the shallow river.
Darting back and forth, splashing water as high as her head, she dove in and out of the river. Most often she resurfaced without a fish, so she repeated the ritual many times until she either tired, the fish ended up in deeper water or she scored. It was quite a show of power and determination, and it seemed as though she actually enjoyed the chase.
Before the fish arrive in this location the bears munch on sedge (marsh grass), nibble berries and dig up razor clams in the mud flats exposed by low tides, seemingly expending a lot of energy for a few bites. Every action of the sow is a lesson for the cubs. During these times the male bruins stay away, and with good reason: mothers are fierce.
These are also the attributes I believe should be most prominent in a caring social fabric.
Native beliefs explain that a totem animal is one that is with you for life, both in the physical and spiritual world. Though we receive lessons and directions from many different animal guides throughout out our lifetime, specific totem animals will remain our main guardian spirits. I am grateful that the bear is the central symbol on the California flag, and I pray for success as our government officials challenge the rescinding of DACA and the too many other mean and destructive actions coming from our “WHITE†House!
   A love for butterflies leads many people to invest in the beautiful Pipevine plant. This plant with its large heart-shaped leaves serves as a host to California Pipevine Swallowtail Butterflies in all their life stages. Most Caterpillars rely on specific host plants. As the caterpillars munch away at the leaves they get the nutrients they need to become gorgeous butterflies.
Butterflies and Moths of North America (BAMONA) is an ambitious effort to collect, store, and share species information and occurrence data. You can participate by taking and submitting photographs of butterflies, moths, and caterpillars, and your sightings will be posted at
One of the students blurted out, “These bugs are ugly.â€Â Not wanting to butt into the group leaders’ plans, I simply starting singing, “How could anyone ever tell you, you are anything less than beautiful? How could anyone ever tell you, you are less than whole…â€Â a song by Libby Roderick.  I learned it from the 
I love walking among rusting trains and weathered warehouses. Each detail reveals images that evoke mystical landscapes and the heartbeat of human experiences.  Decades of layered paint begin bubbling, bursting and chipping to create miniature mountain ranges or angelic teardrops. At least that is what I often see on these surfaces.
Retreating into the beauty that is found in the blight, we can uncover signs of hope. Just when we think that ruin and destruction are having their way (caused by human inattention or otherwise), possibilities arise that we did not know even existed.
My image, “Tear in Time,†is a plea for adding the ERA to our constitution, needed now more than ever with the election of Donald Trump and his appointment of Neil Gorsuch to the U.S. Supreme Court. Yet, while we labor for a federal constitutional amendment, persistent activists in each state are successfully working hard to incorporate equal rights amendments in state constitutions. Oregon became the 23rd state to add an ERA to its state constitution, and Maine is gearing up to be the 24th state.
I was first introduced to a native of South Africa in California arboretums. The flower is known as Leucospermum in the scientific world. It is part of the Proteaceae plant family. For me, this blossom, commonly known as a Pincushion Protea, shouted “Pentecost†because it truly embodies the joy of “spirit gone wild.”
In honor of the beauty and innate message of the protea I share with you the revisioned story of Pentecost I prepared for this past Sunday’s liturgy. For me, this reading serves as a complement to this week’s images:
In this last vision, it was made very clear to Mary Magdalene that her time of leadership was at hand. She was told to rise up, filled with Spirit, to carry on the work for justice and compassion in the spreading of the sacred will. One more time Jesus spoke with her saying, “Wait in Jerusalem. The spirit that we have shared among us will become like a mighty wind and you will receive empowerment.â€
Suddenly RUACH, a great wind, blew among them and she hovered over each of them as a tongue-shaped flame. Also, their own tongues were set on fire, dancing and speaking spirit.
Last week I drove 300 miles to buy a bookmark, one I had seen at the ranger station gift shop in Prairie Creek State Park. I could probably have purchased it in the National Park store here in the city, but the trip north was well worth the effort. When you are 300 miles away from home standing among the redwoods, there’s no going back until at least the next day or even the day after that.
While I was admiring the top of the trees which were being tickled by incoming fog I eavesdropped on the conversation between a mother and her two little girls. The girls were about 4 and 6 years old. The mother was intent on teaching them about the redwood forest. I listened carefully just in case she might turn to quiz me as well. It was amazing. When she asked the girls questions about the trees, they answered like this: “She is very tall; she is old, she is awesome.â€
Then, while snuggling up to the base of a huge redwood, the older girl proclaimed, “She is persistent.†The look of wonder on my face evoked a response from the mother. Smiling, she said that “persistent” was one of the words on her daughter’s spelling list the previous week. I don’t think that word made it onto any of my spellings lists until I was at least 10 years old!
Along with the towering redwoods standing tall in Humboldt and Del Norte counties are the lupine on the sides of Bald Mountain, reeds in Stone Lagoon, and the upward-pointed noses of young Roosevelt Elk. All are inspirations helping us to be mindful of our human responsibility to be persistent in making changes to better our world and honor its natural sources of wisdom.
Seal Rocks are so-named because California Sea Lions and Seals once enjoyed frolicking around them and sunbathing on their natural patio decks. Though these fascinating pinnipeds have moved to other locations (Pier 39, for one), these rocks remain full of life. Creatures, plants and insects find homes in their holes and cracks. Standing in awe of the beauty found in each diverse detail I was reminded of Alice Walker’s poem, “We Have a Beautiful Mother.â€Â It includes these words, “We have a beautiful mother. Her oceans are wombs, Her wombs oceans.â€
All life is thought to have begun in the sea. Yemaya is the African (Yorùbá) Goddess of the living Ocean and considered the mother of all. She is motherly and strongly protective, and cares deeply for all her children, comforting them and purifying them of sorrow. She is said to wear a dress with seven skirts that represent the seven seas.
The various sandpipers seem to be dancing with each ebb and flow. It is easy to understand why so many religious symbols and deities rise up from the oceans. Hopefully, these engaging and powerful metaphors will inspire us to more fully appreciate and care for our oceans; they are immense and support more life than most of us can even imagine.