There's gold in them thar buckets…right??

Summer is fading; the leaves are turning amber, the fireweed blossoms have fallen, there's a chill in the air. And my little countdown app is displaying a startlingly small number of days before homecoming. It's August 27th, which means that in one month from today I will be stepping off a plane into the noise of Philadelphia. I will have left my summer in Alaska behind.

Honestly, it's a little alarming. I don't really want this time to end. I don't want to say goodbye to the people I've come to know and care about. But, as one who tries to live optimistically, I'm attempting to focus on, ya know, "living in the moment." Basically wringing all the awesomeness I possibly can from this summer. I've been fishing, hiking, kayaking, canoeing, horseback riding. I've roasted s'mores on frosty nights beside the river, watched orcas breech and sea lions dive, paddle-boarded beside calling loons, and lifted my face to brilliant displays of the Northern Lights.

I've also, as a housekeeper, cleaned hundreds upon hundreds of toilets. But I don't know if that is a) unique to Alaska; or b) something to be proud of.

Anyhoo.

Panning for gold is something else I've now officially experienced. Yay! Amber, one of my most favorite people here, is leaving in a few days, so when she suggested we try out some gold panning, I was eager to accept. Of course we brought along Zac. Because he's awesome.

We shoveled some gravel into buckets, then began the process of scooping bits of the gravel onto our sluices. We would each shake the sluices back and forth, filtering out any tiny flakes of gold, which we would then pick out with tweezers (I think poor Zac only found, like, two flakes of gold). It was painstaking work, so naturally we had to take a doughnut break at Dude's Food Truck.

Fresh outta the oven with blueberry frosting. Yesss.

After going through all our gravel with the sluices, we settled down for some real old fashioned gold panning. Ah, this is what I had been looking forward to! Except that it was also hard. Dangit. However, I will point out with no small amount of pride, that I found a TON of (microscopic) gold flakes and three (also microscopic) garnets! Yes, I can definitely see a future career in Alaska gold panning for me.

Lookin' Fly (I think) while Fly Fishing

You haven't experienced Alaska until you've seen the salmon run. Every summer the crystalline rivers flash crimson with the vibrantly-scaled fish struggling upstream, while the riverbanks are crowded with fly fishers, clad in bulky waders and casting their lines in hopes of catching one of the thousands of salmon. Alaskans are very proud of their salmon. (In fact, they're pretty much obsessed.)

Well, I finally convinced my super-fun brother, Zac, to come up and work here in Alaska with me. The week he arrived, our tiny town was hosting its annual SalmonFest, a collaboration of local chefs who each submit a salmon dish of their own creation. You pay $10 to get in and basically have all-you-can-eat salmon.

DOES IT GET ANY BETTER THAN THAT?

Zac doesn't really like salmon (which is why he can never be a true Alaskan) but I eventually convinced him to go to the festival with me. We sat at one of the crowded long tables beneath the lodge ceiling and tried every dish at least once. Even my hater brother had to admit it was delicious. Also, there was coleslaw. Like I said: perfect and very Alaska-y.

My [super-hot and all-around awesome] boyfriend, Blake, just loves fly fishing. He goes fishing nearly every morning and probably enjoys being out there in the river almost as much as he enjoys being with me. Almost.

Determined to figure out what, exactly, is so great about fly fishing, I asked him to take me on one of his trips. Fishing, to me, has always appeared pretty boring. I mean, you stick a worm on a hook, drop it in the water and wait to catch something, right?

Not really. Blake picked me up after work, we geared up and marched down into the river. I'm not a terribly graceful human, so stick me in waders and Houston we've got a problem; I nearly went down several times, stumbling on the slick rocks and awkwardly regaining my balance with the help of Blake.

The water was frigid and the bank was littered with the rotting carcasses of salmon which did not smell as appetizing as the salmon we ate at the SalmonFest––but it was a cool, lazy afternoon with a light breeze and gentle dose of sunlight. Blake was a very patient teacher, and after a lot of practice, I felt that promising tug on my line and was able to land a rainbow trout, my very first Alaskan fly fishing conquest!

And then, feeling completely satisfied, I was over this whole fishing thing.

At one point, I was alone for several minutes, just squatting at the river's edge. A gray jay called in the distance and the wind rustled the leaves. The only other sound was the water sliding around my legs and over the rocks. It was wonderfully peaceful, that moment by myself––surrounded only by the stillness––outside, secluded, free. An Alaskan fisherwoman. Well, sort of.