Alaska’s healing spell had taken hold

What is it about Alaska? Why does it have such a profound affect on us all? Is it the raw beauty of the land? The wild waves pounding on the coastline? The wildlife that roams the land and in some cases our cities, towns and even our front yards? Is it the people who choose to live here? Or is it something else, some kind of magic or spell that strikes with the force of Thor’s hammer upon the unsuspecting?

I don’t believe it is just one thing. I believe it is a combination of many things melded together in a way that makes this land very special indeed, a land that means a great deal to someone like myself. And here is why.

It all started after my time guest hosting on KVRF 89.5 FM radio with Mike Chmielewski the morning of March 19. I have been back Tuesday mornings for about a month or so to be part of his Radio Free Palmer morning show. It can be great fun and we talk on air about a wide variety of subjects. On this Tuesday we were talking about the 10-year anniversary of the Iraq war, something I know a lot about. It is something that will impact me for the rest of my life. You see, I was there and it changed my life forever.

I told Mike, and those who were listening to the broadcast, a little about my time there as a soldier in the 81st Brigade of the Washington State National Guard. My brigade was called up in November 2003 and deployed in February 2004. My unit was broken up and scattered all over the theater of the war zone. My job was as a mechanic on a contact team. I was witness to the mortar and rocket attacks on our base at LSA Anaconda and to the full-blown firefights near Forward Operating Base Marez, Mosul.

A little about my missions on and off post in the middle of that god-awful mess known as OIF2 (Operation Iraqi Freedom 2 2004-2005), which was very early in what would be a nine-year war.

I was, frankly, deep into a vivid recall that must have seemed a rambling story to some. It ended with a tragic retelling of the death a fellow soldier, SFC Michael Ottolini, who died horridly in an IED explosion when his HUMV struck a homemade mine.

We lost 10 soldiers over there during my tour. Ottolini was with another unit assigned to our task force. He was the last one to die before my brigade was pulled out of Iraq in 2005.

I talked a little about my post-traumatic stress disorder, a “gift” — so to speak — from all I saw and experienced during my time in the war (It’s a gift I wish I could give back!) and how its effects are now a permanent part of my very soul. At the end of our radio conversation, I was drained and shaking. Mike was visibly shaken as well, something I deeply regret.

After that session on the air I sat in the Vagabond Blues café nursing a cup of coffee and reading a book. I thought to myself that I didn’t say enough on how I came to find a small measure of peace, peace given to me by being caught up in the spell that only Alaska brings. But it did give way to the thoughts that started off this column and to pondering their meanings.

The spell Alaska put on me was like a baited fishing hook. I took a nibble while on leave after my return from the war in March 2005. I stayed up here with my mom and sister, who lived in Wasilla. They took me on jaunts to Talkeetna, Sutton and Anchorage. That nibble was enough for me to go back to my adopted hometown of Kirkland, Wash., buy a car and pack it to the gills. My children had all grown up and were living in Portland, Ore., so I had nothing holding me back. In May that year, I decided to move to Alaska based on that tiniest of bites, leaving Washington state behind after living there for more than 35 years.

The hook was set deep when I took the ferry via the Alaskan Marine Highway up from Bellingham, Wash., to Haines, with a week spent stranded in Ketchikan after the ship broke down. It was time well spent as I got to know that other element of Alaska’s spell — its people. Alaska’s people are a major factor in my love of this land of many wonders. This element of Alaska has been at work on me ever since.

Alaskans are a unique breed, full of friendly character, fiercely independent and with more quirks than any movie ever made can capture, and very able to speak their minds, something I like a lot and respect. That seems to be lacking in the Lower 48. Those down there are self-absorbed by things like cellphones, computers and life apart from nature or even the simplest of things, human conversation. Not so up here.

During my ferry trip and later on my solo drive up from Haines to Wasilla that spell worked its magic, manifested by truly breathtaking vistas of real wilderness. Broad rivers, untamed and cold as a glacier’s kiss. Wildlife such as breaching whales, bears, eagles and, of course, my favorite, lots of moose.

I met Alaskans from all walks in life, including a whole lot of veterans. I met them at cafes, restaurants, motels and even roadside stops along the way. The veterans knew what I was going through and pointed me onward toward my goal. They knew that this land could help bring healing to my war damaged soul.

By the time I made it into Wasilla the hook was set. The spell had taken hold. I was well on my way to becoming an Alaskan. That was the beginning of a splendid personal journey, one that is still going on to this day. Oh, there were ups and downs, steps forward and setbacks along the way. That’s just life.

Alaska has cast its spell very well. It gave me the courage to try something I never thought I would do. After being a career soldier for most of my adult life I would take up a new living as a writer. A new challenge, and with luck and pluck, a new career that could last a lifetime. I will never give in nor give up. That is something that life in the Army taught me, and Alaska has as well in so many ways, strengthening my resolve to carry on.

Yes, I believe Alaska is a place of many things. It weaves a magical spell on those who live here. It is still being woven in all of us choosing to live in the great land. My Alaska journey started in 2005 and is only just beginning.

Wasilla resident Daniel D. Grota retired from the U.S. Army after more than 21 years of service.