Where has all the wildlife gone?

We've now been here for 8 days, and let's see what I can tell you about Alaska:

1. Alaskan drivers are almost as rude as Missouri drivers
2. This is one of the most beautiful states I've ever seen
3. There is wildlife here. At least I think there is. I mean, that's what everyone keeps telling us, anyway.
4. There are more espresso huts per capita than anywhere else I've been
5. The rate of rape in Anchorage is the highest rate rape of anywhere in the nation. Do I need to remind you that the male: female ratio is 2:1?

So we had a couple fun-packed days on Tuesday and Wednesday. Tuesday we drove to the ski resort town of Aleyaska on a mission to hike and have fun, damnit! So we picked a trail and decided to hike a total of 4.5 snow covered wilderness miles. Signs and people told us that we may encounter bears and/or moose. But we were determined to experience the great Alaskan outdoors, and so we pushed onward. I whistled for a long time to alert any wildlife to the fact that we were coming. I needn't have bothered- the wildest creature we saw was a *gasp* squirrel. And I'm telling you, we were in some pretty remote land...we didn't see another human being (or any signs that anyone besides us had been trecking around there in the snow) for the entire 4 hour jaunt. We did see a spectacular gorge that had crytsal clear water rushing through it and huge icicles hanging on the sides. And in case you're wondering: hiking in the snow is even harder than hiking in the sand- we kept breaking through the snow up to our knees and having to pull ourselves up and out. During one part, we were required to hike dangerously close to a very steep ledge covered with ice. For this, we developed the butt scoot method whereby you sit on your butt and scoot past anything remotely dangerous while whistling like a lunatic to make sure the moose and bear (or, in our case, the squirrels) know that you're coming.

Anyway, the next day we went back to the ski resort- this time to ski with the help of our faithful instructor Ruth. For two hours she patiently taught us how to ski on one foot, then the other, then both, then stopping and turning, etc. Tiffany got frustrated because instead of being allowed to practice what we'd learned, Ruth kept coming up with different things for us to try. By the end of the lesson, I was ready to go, and Tiffany was fed up. We ate lunch at the lodge, and I talked her into trying it one more time (sans Ruth). That was the trick! Without Ruth, she was able to convince her left leg to OBEY (damnit!) and turn her in the direction she wanted (instead of the left leg getting all the say). By the end, she was swooping and stopping like the best of them- and we have the video footage to prove it. One of these days we're going to send it to Ruth.
For my part, I have to admit that I never learn my lesson. I broke my knee several years ago when I was skiing for the first time after I insisted that I was ready for the bigger hill. After our lesson with Ruth this time, I skiied the baby hill again and again and was finally sure that I was ready for the ski lift (despite the fact that Ruth had not been able to show us how to get on/off the lifts). I went to ask the ski lift guy how to do it, but to do that you had to approach him and risk the danger of the lift swooping behind you and carrying you off before you're ready. That's what happened to me, and I ended up yelling to the guy that I didn't know how to get off as I was being carried up the mountain. The trip up was nice (kinda high, so a little scary), and I assured myself that I would just do whatever the person in front of me did. He got off and skiied down the little lift slope and was gone. When my turn came, I eased off the lift and promtly fell backwards and skidded down the lift hill. I looked up to see the ski lift guy trying to hide his laughter. I told him it was my first time, and that the instructor hadn't shown us how to get off the lift. Then I asked him which run I should go down (as a complete beginner). He said, "If you want the beginner slope, go that way. But if you want to go slow, take this [moderate difficulty] hill." So I decided that, above all, I needed to go slow. Down the moderate difficultly slope I went. But it was anything but slow. I was skiing at what felt like 45mph, and was dangerously out of control. I tried to make a wedge (as Ruth had shown us) to slow myself, but no matter how wedged I got or how hard I dug my skiis in, I wasn't slowing down at all. I tried so hard that I ended up on my ass and then on my back skidding down the hill at an impressive rate. I nearly took out two skiiers ahead of me, I was going so fast. But I eventually stopped, got back up and skiied VERY carefully down the rest of the way.

Needless to say, that day was finished on the baby hill.

My time is up, more later.