Alcan Road Trip Pt. 2 | Journal Summary

Today I’m listening to Dad’s old mix CDs while unpacking and cleaning up the house. The Verve and 90s indie alt music mostly, titled 10-11-07. I miss the age I grew up in. I always thought it would stay stagnant, unaware of the inevitable idea of progression and change.

Rewind: Trent and I made the trip down to Texas to grab the last of our things and visit with family for a few days. We did some much-needed retail therapy, got stuck in freeway traffic, got cut off because 75 mph is just too slow for most in Houston, and waited in tons of checkout lines with stores crowded with people. Then drove 6 days back home. We laughed a lot, read three entire audiobooks together, sat in the bliss of silence and conversation with each other without phone service, and lacked a lot of sleep. We rested in high-end Hilton’s, in the car, and a run-down motel with a complementary used bar of Irish spring and half-empty travel bottles of shampoo. And yes, we brought our toiletries.

Within the Thousands of miles, we experienced the utmost beauty of the Canadian Rockies once again, but in the brittle cold and calm of winter. The contrast of green and white. The gradient green with more frost and snow dusted over the spruce the higher the altitude, and animal tracks pressed into the snow crossing over each other's path like busy inner city foot traffic.

We drove through the Yukon Territory, just outside of Whitehorse, and saw the Aurora hanging above snow-covered mountains through the passenger side window. Of course, we stopped for a few minutes to take it in, as if it was the first time to experience it. (Every time is a blessing). We had conversations with older age locals and we stopped at the only burger joint open for hundreds of miles. The trip was that much more memorable than the last. Until it became even more so.

We crossed the border into Alaska, eager to get home, and smiled at each other knowing we were only hours away from our bed and our pups.

35 miles to Tok, Alaska, and 300 or so miles from home, the radiator in the car blew and we were stuck. 22 below but luckily we had a bit of daylight and cell phone service on our side. We waited for a tow for about 45 minutes, wiggling our toes to pass the time and to keep warm. We towed to a restaurant in Tok, and patiently waited 4 hours for our friend from Fairbanks to rescue us with his dulley and car haul trailer. We had conversations with the waitress, munched on a pizza throughout the time, shared a piece of homemade pie, laughed about our luck, and reflected on our luck. How lucky we are. Lucky to have such great friends and community around us here. Lucky for the warmth of that restaurant. Lucky this didn’t happen in YT or BC. Lucky we had cell service to call for help. Lucky we had each other and this memory. Lucky.

I learned that I like our peace. Alaska time and the “no rush” way of living. I’m reminded to do the things I love for enjoyment, not follow trends. To often do things as if it was 20 years ago, because it works best or simply because I just like it that way. If I learned anything about myself on this trip, I learned just how much appreciation I have for the place we live, my husband, and always remembering to bring our toiletries. And to go back to the mix CDs- I’m no longer a child unaware of progression or change, however nowadays I like some things to stay as they were. Friendly neighbors, small communities, no lines or annoying traffic, and sometimes the nostalgia of music you can hold instead of a Spotify playlist.

A few things.

Well, Winter is here in interior Alaska. Snow is accumulating, the temperatures are dropping, and the amount of sunlight each day is decreasing.

On October 19th, Trent and I eloped in the mountain beauty of Hatcher Pass- just outside of Palmer, Alaska. The day was perfect. We woke up early that morning and watched the sunrise over snowy mountain peaks from the wide bedroom window—gradient colors of pink, orange, and red over cool-toned snow-covered rock. Sun rays seep in, reflecting off Trent’s ginger hair. My face glowed at the thought of becoming his wife—slow mornings—our favorite practice. 

We later left to pick up coffee and a bottle of Veuve Clicquot, and we began to prepare for the moment we would cherish forever. 

As a little girl, I sometimes thought of my wedding day. With the unknown in mind, you can only imagine what may or may not be possible. It’s natural, maybe only for some, but it’s a shared experience. Coming from a split family, with parents who married young and later on inevitably divorced, it altered my perspective on what this “should” look like—a wedding, marriage, and becoming one that is. But when I began dating Trent, things just clicked. No anxiety, No racing thoughts, No worry. Just bliss. It is as if intuitive energy eased my being and continues to bring me that ease. 

The perfect day.

A few weeks before, I picked up Cabin 135 by Katie Eberhart. Regarding books, I don’t necessarily have a specific genre I stick to. I pick up whatever sounds interesting at the time. This memoir left me pleasantly surprised. Almost as if I was drawn to it for a reason. 

Since moving here, my inner nerd has come out in full force. I feel it’s important to know the environment you live in: history, culture, plant identification, practices of the everyday. Reading Cabin 135 was the unique yet relatable collection of printed pages I needed. A story of a woman in similar shoes (or snow boots) as I am currently. Moved to Alaska, with fresh eyes, alongside her husband- to make a little cabin their home. The structure of the book is unlike anything I have read before. No chapters, No actual storyline to follow page by page. Yet, still tells her story seamlessly. Bouncing from stories of her youth, the beginning of her relationship, the history of Alaska, and the making of her home, all while slowly uncovering the house's history as she renovates. And the cabin still remains in Palmer, Alaska. The memoir was a reminder to digest and appreciate all the good in every day and make little mental notes- documenting the smallest and biggest experiences. A conversation with a stranger, the single flower or berry bush you stumble upon, the many times you stack wood or drive through blizzards. 

And someday, maybe when I’m 60, I’ll publish my little notes as she did. 

A New Era: The Unspoken Realization of Growing Older.

It’s been a while since I’ve published anything on here. When the idea first came to light, I wanted this to be a cooking blog…However, it’s sort of phasing into a personal blog (or public diary I guess).

I have now lived in interior Alaska for almost 6 months now and the time is flying by. Trent and I have now experienced all but one season here…the dreaded, extreme winter. This is something I have been bracing myself for. The closest thing to an actual textbook Winter I have experienced thus far was the rare “Snowpocalypse” a few years ago while I was in college. And even then, that was still above 0 degrees and short-lived. We’re preparing for a season- while entering a new season (of life).

Living in Alaska has been an adjustment. It’s a whole new way of living. Although, yes, we have grocery stores and luckily a small Ulta. It is still drastically different than what I’m accustomed to. We have to sort of think in a sense of “survival”. Yes, I know that sounds a bit dramatic- but it’s truthful. We started from scratch here with nothing but whatever would fit in the vehicle. We have had to ensure fuel tanks are filled, we have plenty chords of dry-wood to offset heating costs, warm enough clothing for subzero temps (-50 degrees), the list goes on. It’s been a learning curve for the both of us, luckily I think Trent honestly enjoys the prep at least a little. Trent seems to take charge of those sort of things, but I’ve really enjoyed learning with him and helping with the things I can. Over the past few weeks a local was kind enough to let us on his property to take as many cut logs as we needed at no cost to us. I surprised myself (I think Trent too) with the amount of strength I unknowingly had. I lifted and loaded maybe 5 or 6 aspen logs into the truck bed by myself, while Trent got the heavier ones ready for the both of us to lift together, or loaded himself. Yesterday evening, he (very) bravely let me use the chainsaw for the first time. This was short-lived, and he will definitely have to recut the entire log haha. Thus, I was quickly demoted to the axe, just marking measurements on the wood for him to cut. We make a pretty good team, I’ll say!

This new journey and the amount of huge changes at once has been overwhelming for me at times. But as of recently, something in my noggin just clicked. I think maybe this is me realizing I’m beginning to heal, or age, or whatever it’s supposed to be referred to as.

Recently in a RuPaul Masterclass clip- I heard the quote, “If you got one foot in the future, and one foot in the past. You’re pissin’ on the present”. For some reason this stuck with me, and really sunk in.

I have always been an over-thinker, a worrier, a ball of well-hidden anxiety. I’ve seen therapists, I’ve been to mental health professionals, but it seems like I was unknowingly avoiding to heal the one thing that mattered most. My inner mindset. Living in an age of a very digitally-social society, it’s easier than it has ever been to lose sight of that. And being in my 20’s, the pressure is on.

The Realization:

I am living this life for the first time. The only thing I have known before this new phase was being a child, being a student, or being on my own for the very first time. I think there’s tons of wisdom out there about being a young adult on your own for the very first time. But no one tells you about the gap between very young adulthood and becoming a mother or your 30s. I’ve heard “it’s all downhill after 25” or “25 is the year for real change”. But everyone is on their own path, and I’ve always seemed to be ahead. No one tells you that once you’re in a career it takes effort and energy to form a routine that works for you. It sometimes takes more energy to actually do that skincare in the morning, or even remember to eat breakfast. But it also takes effort to realize that it’s okay to just be. This is something I tend to struggle with. It’s okay to not live in the same place as your friends or family, it’s okay to experience something new, and it’s okay to prioritize your life- as you only get one. I spent the majority of my life feeling pressure I only put upon myself to always be available for others, to keep in touch with every friend, to make sure every single thing would be approved by societal standards. It’s draining. And I bring that exhaustion onto myself, and for no reason really. But what I’ve come to realize is this, people don’t care as much as you think- so why should you?

The Image of Life You Have…Throw It Out:

I grew up in a home of divorced parents, living in the same little county with both homes only a few miles apart. I had this idea in my head that it would stay that way, parents remarried to other people or not. I had the idea that my grandpa would be alive long enough to meet my husband, or see my sisters and I live through our 30s. And I had an idea that everything I had ever known would essentially stay the same, besides me growing older and growing my own branch within it. But this isn’t what happened.

My dad and step-mother are building an oceanside home on the pacific coast of Oregon. My mom will remain in a whole other city in Texas. My siblings are navigating their own personal journey and place in this world. Friends are raising first, even second or third babies. My grandfather passed my freshman year of college. Family-friends have lost contact. I’m not at some major music label doing management or PR. And, oh yeah, I’m living outside of the lower 48 and eloping with my best friend in 30 days. Nevertheless, things have changed. My plan didn’t stick, and that’s okay. Most have been positive changes. If anything, I’m realizing my immediate family including myself, are breaking the generational cycle of “normal”. Overall, my point comes back to the quote and simply this…Being Present. You can’t plan out your life, or even the week ahead of you. And if you do, you’re setting yourself for disappointment and asking yourself the ultimate question of “Why?” about a thousand times. It’s easier said than done obviously, and it’s taking a lot of daily practice and reminders for myself. But, just. be. present.

Maybe to some older readers, this is kind’ve humorous to you. “Look at this young girl finally putting two and two together. Ha!”. Maybe to some of you, this is relatable- helpful even. My intentions aren’t necessarily to motivate anyone, or be some sort of self help guru. This is simply vulnerable me, documenting my journey.

- Julie’s word vomit of the week.

Our Story | We’re Engaged!

“Myyyy Hero”…such a storybook/ superhero movie plot cliché. But it’s so fitting for one of the many ways to describe my love for Trent. 

 In October of last year, I went on my first date with him- after almost last minute cancelling due to my nervousness. But, something in my gut told me I would regret it if I did. 

So I went… he was 15 minutes late but as soon as I locked eyes with him, nothing else around me existed nor mattered anymore. There wasn’t a single second of silence between us, and it seemed like we were the only two in the entire restaurant. After dinner, we didn’t want it to end. And luckily, Trent had planned a surprise part 2 to our night. We sat a picnic table in the back corner of a local brewery, and ended up getting politely kicked out for closing. And we still didn’t want to part ways that night, even though we had to. 

From that moment on, we were inseparable. I went home that night, cried a few happy tears and I think I even said out loud “I’m gonna marry this guy, aren’t I?” And apparently his night afterwards was not much different, I found out later down the road. 

Trent has not only become my best friend and my other half. But he was everything I was missing and I wasn’t even aware. Prior to us crossing paths, he served in the USAF, spending many years overseas. Putting his life on the line for many years, which led him to retirement from the service. I add this in to make the point, one of the things I admire the most about him is his positive outlook, and gratitude. A little bit ago, he made the comment to someone that “I’m grateful for everything I went through, because it led me to be able to live this life with her”. Hearing that made me tightly hold in tears for two hours, until we were alone and I could let out my vulnerability. 

One of my favorite older photos of Trent.

Since Day 1, he has made me feel cared for, special, thought of, and more simply put…”the only girl in the world”. We’ve known for a while we wanted to get married. But wanted to wait for the right time, if there really ever is one. And this past Tuesday, he got on one knee. 

The view.

The Proposal:

We started our evening with a large pizza from a local pizza joint, he picked up on his way home. We changed out the bedding for our quails, freshened up the water, and their food. Let the boys run around, walked down to our little river slough, I picked some high bush cranberries and pointed out every new thing I noticed blooming to Trent in real-time…haha 

We went back inside, I cleaned up some in the kitchen from the night and Trent…disappeared. I called out for him as if we were playing a game of Marco-Polo. Yelled “babeeeee” , “marcoooooooo” (luckily we have very friendly neighbors, who are probably used to us hollering for the dogs everyday at this point). 

Walked along the property. No site of him. At this point, I’m speculating the rapture- We’re always attached at the hip it seems like. I go back inside, no sign of him. I then decide, okay he’s definitely outside (there’s only so many places he could be in our one bedroom cabin lol) 

I walk out the back door, and there I see Mr. Weenie Dog standing directly in the middle at the very end of the long walkway to the slough. And he’s giving me a look and waiting for me- like he’s telling me “mom I found him, follow me this way!!”. I got about halfway down the walkway, and I see his wavy ginger head directly under the 8 pm sunlight. He was standing on a little hill overlooking the river, with his hands in his pockets waiting for me. Why he never said “Poloooooo”, I have no idea- but it did make it more fun I suppose lol. 

Sort of oblivious of what he was actually doing, I called Beau Diddle (our chunky, red heeler boy) over to us. The other two were right by us sniffing around and exploring as per usual. We take little walks like this with them pretty often, sometimes daily. Turned away from Trent, we called Beau until he finally made his way to us, taking his sweet time of course. When I turned back around, Trent was on one knee with the ring in his hands. He gave his sweet little speech (I’ll keep that just for us), I cried a few happy tears, we held eachother tightly in that moment, and marked the spot with an aluminum foil ring I wrapped around a little cottonwood branch. 

He didn’t pop the question with some big extravagant firework show, or on the very top peak of Denali. He asked me to marry him in the most perfect, and intimate way just for us. On our property, in a place of our dreams, with our boys around us, and….in our Grunden boots lol. 

So…for all of you asking. That’s our story, and it’s just the beginning…

Warmest Regards,

Soon-To-Be, Mrs. Caples 

Us at our favorite Piano Bar in Austin, TX for a Howler Bros event.