Close Encounters of the Third and Possibly Fourth Kind
Woke up this morning in the lovely hotel that Carol booked for us. We're on the top floor overlooking the bay which has pleased everyone except Jennifer who is deathly afraid of heights. Last night Carol brought us enough Chinese place mats to wallpaper a small mansion. And after putting us up in such a fancy place, I'm beginning to suspect that Carol is the Don or at least a well respected hitman for the Inuit Mafia. There is some serious bankroll backing this trip. Note to self: Thank Carol graciously for this trip or I will be Sleeping with the Salmon. If not, running away isn't an option, because Carol is a freaking gazelle in high heels and will run me down. I saw her a couple of days ago sprinting across gravel in those heels, never slipping. It was quite amazing. So I'll be playing it cool, showing da love.
Being the mountain goat she is, Carol suggested we take a leisurely stroll to the top of Flat Top Mountain. She said we would be up and down in half an hour. Somebody has greatly overestimated the athletic abilities of her family. I'm sure Carol could make the round trip in twenty minutes flat in high heels, but the rest of us struggled and crawled, just to get up the stairs that led to the trail head.
Still we were optimistic as we began to scale the grassy slopes of this large hill. We had already driven most of the way up and it looked like only a few hundred feet to the top. 
The tree line broke and we saw the top of the hill, Zack, Dillon, and Becket thought they would be clever and just run to the top. 
The rest of us rounded the bend with six white horses, and found out that what we though was the top, was only a small hill blocking our view of the mammoth peak that loomed ahead of our path. 
Our spirits began to sink, until we found wild blueberries growing on the side of the trail. 
We picked several delicious handfuls and enjoyed the sweet violet juices. With stained fingers and happy bellies we decided to climb on. Some kindly mountain trolls built a staircase for us.
Bastards should have built a gosh darn escalator, cause this mountain is freaking steep! 
We rounded the top of the stairs expecting to see the mountain top. No such luck, we were starring face to face with a nearly vertical rocky crag towering above us. But we could see the top now and we said "Finish Him!"
FATALITY! And we were off again. Slowly, painfully, we willed our weary legs onward. The path gave way to loose gravel and large boulders, becoming steeper and steeper. 
Soon we were climbing nearly vertical slopes with the peak within our reach. Carefully hoisting ourselves over the ledge we collapse on the ground eyes shut tight and chests heaving. I slowly open one eye to peer up at the bright sun,
much to my dismay another peak towered above us. Son of a Bitch! We were about to turn around a quit when a group of yodeling mountain goats passed us and offered to show us the way to the top. We were reluctant but didn't want to be rude, so we picked ourselves up and dug in for the final haul. The company of the yodelers raised our spirits and we forgot all our troubles as we skipped up to the summit of Flat Top.
Finally we made it to the top. Greeted by a gorgeous panorama of Anchorage Alaska and the ruins of an ancient Inuit civilization of midgets. Open roof stone huts and towering carem rock piles. 
After a long rest we began our descent. Suddenly the cliffs seemed far more dangerous. On the way up I was only looking a few feet in front of my hands as I climbed. Now I can see the mountainside dropping away from me in a horrific and dizzying precipice. I become lightheaded, heart racing, afraid to move. I take a step and the earth gives ways as I slip and fall to my death. Oh well, I guess my Journal will be ending here. AAAGGHH!!
Woke up this morning in the lovely hotel that Carol booked for us. We're on the top floor overlooking the bay which has pleased everyone except Jennifer who is deathly afraid of heights. Last night Carol brought us enough Chinese place mats to wallpaper a small mansion. And after putting us up in such a fancy place, I'm beginning to suspect that Carol is the Don or at least a well respected hitman for the Inuit Mafia. There is some serious bankroll backing this trip. Note to self: Thank Carol graciously for this trip or I will be Sleeping with the Salmon. If not, running away isn't an option, because Carol is a freaking gazelle in high heels and will run me down. I saw her a couple of days ago sprinting across gravel in those heels, never slipping. It was quite amazing. So I'll be playing it cool, showing da love.
Being the mountain goat she is, Carol suggested we take a leisurely stroll to the top of Flat Top Mountain. She said we would be up and down in half an hour. Somebody has greatly overestimated the athletic abilities of her family. I'm sure Carol could make the round trip in twenty minutes flat in high heels, but the rest of us struggled and crawled, just to get up the stairs that led to the trail head.
Still we were optimistic as we began to scale the grassy slopes of this large hill. We had already driven most of the way up and it looked like only a few hundred feet to the top. 
The tree line broke and we saw the top of the hill, Zack, Dillon, and Becket thought they would be clever and just run to the top. 
The rest of us rounded the bend with six white horses, and found out that what we though was the top, was only a small hill blocking our view of the mammoth peak that loomed ahead of our path. 
Our spirits began to sink, until we found wild blueberries growing on the side of the trail. 
We picked several delicious handfuls and enjoyed the sweet violet juices. With stained fingers and happy bellies we decided to climb on. Some kindly mountain trolls built a staircase for us.
Bastards should have built a gosh darn escalator, cause this mountain is freaking steep! 
We rounded the top of the stairs expecting to see the mountain top. No such luck, we were starring face to face with a nearly vertical rocky crag towering above us. But we could see the top now and we said "Finish Him!"
FATALITY! And we were off again. Slowly, painfully, we willed our weary legs onward. The path gave way to loose gravel and large boulders, becoming steeper and steeper. 
Soon we were climbing nearly vertical slopes with the peak within our reach. Carefully hoisting ourselves over the ledge we collapse on the ground eyes shut tight and chests heaving. I slowly open one eye to peer up at the bright sun,
much to my dismay another peak towered above us. Son of a Bitch! We were about to turn around a quit when a group of yodeling mountain goats passed us and offered to show us the way to the top. We were reluctant but didn't want to be rude, so we picked ourselves up and dug in for the final haul. The company of the yodelers raised our spirits and we forgot all our troubles as we skipped up to the summit of Flat Top.
Finally we made it to the top. Greeted by a gorgeous panorama of Anchorage Alaska and the ruins of an ancient Inuit civilization of midgets. Open roof stone huts and towering carem rock piles. 
After a long rest we began our descent. Suddenly the cliffs seemed far more dangerous. On the way up I was only looking a few feet in front of my hands as I climbed. Now I can see the mountainside dropping away from me in a horrific and dizzying precipice. I become lightheaded, heart racing, afraid to move. I take a step and the earth gives ways as I slip and fall to my death. Oh well, I guess my Journal will be ending here. AAAGGHH!!