Saltwater Medicine

“Something rare and incredible is happening. The three of us guides are sharing space on my z-rest, perched high above sea level in the honeyed light of a July evening. The girls we’ve led up and partway down this mountain are giggling, but in their tents. It’s a welcome sound; better than fighting or cussing or hurt feelings.

Southeast Alaska has uncovered itself to us in sudden, blazing layers of blue. The usual granite-grey sky and slopes and rolling ocean are briefly clarified by this rare twilight, sharp against our eyes. Virginia Peak smolders in a hazy, navy shadow after hours of midsummer heat. She could be in New Zealand or Hawaii, but we are north in the Alexander Archipelago.

Anita Bay and Zimovia Strait shimmer like pools of broken glass and glossy varnish down below. The colors—burning blue and nurtured greens—oppose the typical blur of AK gray just as our little mountain family opposes the norm. We’ve almost completed our mountain expedition with five girls instead of nine, and positivity, motivation and grit rather than complaining and competition. What a summer!

I am comforted by the silent, lifting breeze and the rocking-chair squeak of black spruce here in the muskeg. I pause to wonder at whole spider webs anchored soundlessly above small, deep, coffee-colored pools. Dragonflies patrol endless acres of yellow cedar and Western hemlock, while blue-backed flies buzz until the first stars appear. My own sunburned eyes peer back at me in the streaked little mirror on my compass.

I haven’t been this weathered before, or such a constant part of young people’s lives, responsible for how safe they are and what they’re learning. It does a quick unraveling of my usual, self-centric thoughts.”

-Letter to a friend, July 2016

This was written during my first summer as a therapeutic field guide for Alaska Crossings. In its 16 years as a treatment program, this organization has grown in the annual number of clients it serves and the scope of tripping area groups travel to. Teens ages 12-17, struggling with behavioral and emotional problems, come to Wrangell from all over the state of Alaska. If they graduate, they will have spent 63 days in the wilderness of Tongass National Forest surrounding the island, mostly paddling ocean-going canoes but at some point bushwhacking their way up a local peak, over the course of seven days.

It’s rainy. The gear is heavy. Mosquitoes and no-see-ums are whining in your ear and the wind is freezing your fingers, ears and cheeks. There are brown bears, black bears, elk, deer, sea lions, humpbacks, orcas, seals, and an assortment of fuzzy little Mustelidae family critters. There are sea anemones happily glued to the rocks and their purple starfish neighbors, and sand fleas that jump in your oatmeal if you’re not careful. Young eagles—ch’ak’yeis’ in Tlingit—loop and plunge as they learn how to fly and pluck fish from the waves.

I’m often asked if the kids I work with change by the end of their time at Crossings. Some find a whole new side of themselves, teaching each other knots and steering their boat through the biting wind across an open channel. Others can’t wait to get back into their Nike's and are desperate to charge their phones on our first day back in “civilization.” Some kids let their individual issues clash and fester with each other; other times, participants decide to give their peers a chance to stumble so that they can all learn and grow as a team.

Regardless of how much work each client puts into their 63 days, they are sleeping, eating well, and being active on a regular basis. They’re cut off from their electronics, their everyday friends and, often, away from their hometown for the first time. These changes and accomplishments alone—plus living in the woods for two months—would affect anyone, adult or adolescent. Even if they fall back into old habits at home, they won’t ever forget the fact that they finished the journey. Later on, they might realize that those kind words from their peers or the power in their lives which their guides urged them to seize are real.

If you know an Alaskan teen who could benefit from Crossings or an adult 21+ who is interested in employment for the 2019 season, visit www.alaskacrossings.org.