We got to the Philadelphia around 3:00 yesterday afternoon. With three kids, one dog, six coolers, and our friend Kris, who came along to help us fish and herd the aforementioned baggage.

The airport provided ample opportunity for airplane watching.

And miscellaneous shenanigans.

It is my tenth trip to the tundra. Alden’s sixth, Kato’s fourth, August’s second, and Robbi’s 36th.

Did  I mention the shenanigans?

Eventually, we got on our plane, and Alden got her wish: to sit next to Kris, who is, by all evidence, pretty great.

We landed. Alden thought we were in Alaska.

Not so fast, I said. We are only in Minneapolis, only through one leg of five, only through 8 hours of 36.

Kato was not excited. Kato was not conscious.

We switched things up in Seattle, taking a short train ride.

When we finally got to Anchorage at 5:00am EST this morning, a theme had started to emerge. Kato was still not conscious.

August, on the other hand, was wide awake. He and I took a tour of Ted Stevens International, which makes no bones about the fact that it is a living museum to all things Alaska.

Right when August fell asleep, Kato woke up, so we went bear hunting.

Then Kato fell back asleep and August woke up, so we went bear hunting, too.

Eventually, everyone fell asleep at the same time for about five minutes.

Even Iggy.

Even Robbi and Kato.

It was a peaceful night in our little corner of the baggage claim.

We’re actually fairly close to our final destination as the crow flies, but we still have plenty of journey ahead. In another six hours, we lift off for King Salmon. We have another five-hour layover there, during which we’ll buy our fishing licenses and explore the many exhibits at the one-room visitors’ center. We will let Iggy pee and dodge mosquitoes, and maybe even walk to the grocery store to buy an $8 peach. Or not buy an $8 peach.

From King Salmon, we take a charter flight to a cannery about five miles up the beach from our compound. There, we will find a pickup truck with the keys in the ignition, left there by Roji and Maiko, who will at that moment be in the middle of a fishing opening. Robbi will take the wheel and the rest of us will pile into the back. We’ll lumber up the beach, slowing down to avoid fishermen and running lines. We’ll be back again in that strange world we’re lucky to know as well as we do.

This is probably our last chance to check in until we return. We’ve written a series of posts that are scheduled to go live every few days or so. Half are on this blog and half are on Bobbledy Books, so if you find that you’re missing us, be sure to check in over there, as well.

We’ll miss you all but will be back before you know it.

Until then, farewell.