Of course, it\u2019s not truly the end. But, for me, a chapter is closing and a new one is about to begin.<\/p>\n
The work I\u2019ve done over the past many years as Outdoors Editor of the Juneau Empire was the most challenging and most rewarding work I\u2019ve ever done. Think about the monumental task I faced: How does one tell the stories of a town with roots like granite in our outdoor world?<\/p>\n
I learned this: You tell them thoughtfully, passionately, deeply, carefully and with enthusiasm.<\/p>\n
Because that\u2019s the only way to get it right.<\/p>\n
Those I\u2019ve interviewed care deeply about what they do \u2014 whether it\u2019s discovering new species of dragonflies, or preserving beaver habitat. Those who shared their adventures, exude only enthusiasm. Remember the snowbikers and their ear-to-ear grins? Or what about the group A Trip South, who for months shared their kayak\/bike adventure to South America? Don\u2019t forget about our trail and cabin crews … they are passionate about their hobbies and their work in our outdoor world \u2014 they care.<\/p>\n
And to do it right, I had to care, too.<\/p>\n
I cared so much there were nights I worked far longer than I should. There were too-long days spent on stories, not wanting to stop asking questions or taking pictures, because I knew my quiet time spent writing and editing would pale in comparison.<\/p>\n
The long hours were worth it, because I learned this: In caring, a writer becomes one with not only the subjects of the story, but also with the readers.<\/p>\n
Speaking of the readers: Thank you. A writer is nothing without readers.<\/p>\n
OK. Enough of this mushy stuff. Let\u2019s move on to my favorite memories, my favorite stories. And, there\u2019s some fun \u201crest of the story …\u201d times to share, too.<\/p>\n
I\u2019ll never forget the time my head hit the ceiling of a Ward Air floatplane multiple times (before I tightened my seatbelt) as I flew with a U.S. Forest Service crew to cover two cabins nestled on Turner Lake.<\/a> The Taku winds were blowing with light fury that day, and their bluster was more than enough to keep the 30-minute flight interesting. From the cockpit, Randy Kiesel smiled back at his passengers \u2014 three gruff trail-building dudes and me \u2014 his goofy grin told me we\u2019d all be fine. But inside, my stomach was in knots. I tried to hide my white knuckles, gripping my camera.<\/p>\n We sailed down into the mountain-walled lake like a heron coming in for a landing \u2014 smooth and graceful.<\/p>\n I had forgotten the turbulence and sent my shutter snapping through the thick-walled windows of the Beaver. The views were more than enough to make a person gasp. Snow-covered peaks shot up in jagged contrast to the mirror-like surface of Turner Lake. We motored to the first cabin, the West Turner Lake cabin, then took off again and flew quickly to the East Turner Lake cabin. At both sites, the crews buttoned up the historic structures, effectively putting them to bed for the winter.<\/p>\n I listened to stories told by the crew members (ones I knew I could never include in the article), of bears that had tried to break into one of the cabins, of old charcoal etchings on the boat house that dated back to fabled fishing tournaments, of the secret location of trophy cutthroat trout that lurk in less water than one would expect.<\/p>\n I loved my job.<\/p>\n