Sitka Moose
Working on the Executive Team at Alaska Airlines has been the highlight of my husband’s career. The Alaska culture is all about family and tradition, and we have always treated Andrew’s career as our career. As such, I’ve had the privilege of getting to know many of the great men and women of the airline biz and shared some unforgettable experiences with them. A few times a year, We Officers’ wives/partners join our husbands on trips for community events, board meetings, or team building experiences.
One such unforgettable experience from 2012 was a memorable trip to Sitka, Alaska- which is a small seaside town near Juneau. Most of you are well aware that yours truly is not exactly the *outdoorsy* type….. unless I’m on a beach reading or meditating on a hillside on a comfy blanket. Nevertheless, here we are living in the Northwest, and as part of Alaska Airlines, there’s little chance we’re going to escape an excursion of the wilderness variety. This City Slicker literally had to make a special trip to REI to purchase some clothing appropriate for such activities. And I was certainly glad that I had; The very moment we exited the Juneau airport in our routine cloud of lively conversation and matching luggage, we found ourselves being whisked away to the Sitka Channel. We boarded kayaks in small groups and pretended like this was something we did every day in an effort to not embarrass ourselves in front of the local Alaska natives. Instead we looked like we had just disembarked from the Titanic, paddling in circles while wearing orange life vests about three sizes too big.
The next day while the husbands were in meetings, myself and a few of the other C-something-O’s wives and partners decided to rent bikes. We walked and chattered the short distance from the hotel to The Yellow Jersey Cycle Shop, only having to reroute a mere 3 times due to a lack of paying attention of where to where we were going. We finally made it, and proceeded to explain to the gentleman behind the counter that our general idea was to ride through Sitka on a self-guided tour. (For the record this was NOT my idea of a good time, but I tried to be a good sport and take one for the team and go with the flow.)
Let it be known that I am not a biker; never have been and wouldn’t be caught dead training to qualify for the Tour de France. I won’t speak for my companions, but I will say from my vantage point we looked like a bunch of Wannabe Hells’ Angels Biker Babes Gone Wrong. (Plus Matt, who was looking very similar to Glenn Hughes, the biker from The Village People disco group.) It took us about 45 minutes to prepare for the ride. First we had a long and arduous dialogue about how high to adjust the seat height on these bikes. Some of us couldn’t work the toe clips on the pedals, since we hadn’t ridden a bike since mounting our ten speed Schwinns to roll down the street to Baskin Robbins in Junior High School. Others of us (who shall remain nameless… but it *may* or *may not have been* Matt and myself) were extremely concerned about getting a case of swamp ass and/or helmet hair. Still others were trying to figure out where to stash a cell phone, refusing to utilize the small “fanny pack-esque” pouch attached to the frame of the bike. Nevertheless, we were determined to have an adventure out in the Alaskan Wild, Dammit. And so we set off.
We began to pedal down the gravel path of a nearby park like a pack of penguins waddling across the ice. They say you never forget how to ride a bike, but I disagreed as we wove shakily down the trail as if we had just left the bar after a few too many rounds of beer pong. Occasionally we clipped each other’s back tires, cursing and chastising each other for following too closely. The worst part was when we encountered legitimate bikers along the trail, most of whom were rightfully annoyed by our presence- as they were most certainly alerted to our arrival from the shrieks of laughter echoing throughout the Sitka sky from a mile back.
After riding for about 5 minutes and I’m not exaggerating, we decided it was time to stop for a well-earned water break. Two men (again I’ll use the term “legitimate bikers”) on extremely fancy looking bikes rode up to us and basically did a BMX Racing Style skid over to the clump of bushes where we had gathered. One slipped his helmet off which had lightning bolts custom-painted on the side. “Hey Ladies…and Sir”, he nodded to Matt with a cautionary tone. “Just wanted to warn you there are two moose up ahead.” We stared at him as if he were telling us our fly was down and we were wearing a dress. Long pause. We couldn’t figure out if he was serious or making fun of the painfully obvious fact that we were not locals. The other man adjusted the strap on his less fancy helmet, which looked like it was perhaps purchased at Costco. Finally, Jan, piped up to answer him: “uh, ok, thanks!”
After a few additional seconds of awkward silence, Lighting bolt-Helmet shrugged, plopped the helmet back onto his head and announced, “Well then, I guess we’ll be going.” With that, Lightning bolt-Helmet and Costco-Helmet decided their Good Samaritan work there was done. They slipped their fancy legitimate biker shoes into their shiny toe clips with finesse, clicked some gears into place, and sped off in a cloud of trail dust as if they were auditioning for “Rad”, the 1986 bike movie.
When they were well out of earshot, we stood around and busted up laughing at this concept, making jokes about the ridiculousness of a moose just sauntering through a town which is basically a major cruise ship stop. Maybe the Moose was going to stop at the tavern for a few local pints? And then maybe the moose would decide to swing into White’s Pharmacy for some souvenirs- maybe an “I Heart Sitka” T-Shirt, a spoon rest, or a cheap velvet box containing a set of thimbles laid out in a row to look like the Aleutian Islands.
So dear reader, you’re no dum dum. You’ve seen enough movies, you’ve read enough books. You know exactly what happens next. We managed to get back on the bikes and continue down the path. We rounded a corner and guess what we saw walking straight through a small valley, onto the path, and straight at us. Yep. None other than two #BigassMoose. Pat, who was in the front, hit the brakes and threw up a left elbow while making a fist in the air as if she were a member of the LAPD SWAT team.
The rest of us froze and stared at the massive herbivores.
I could barely believe what I was seeing. Sure as balls, a couple of moose were “easing on down the road” toward us as if they were Diana Ross and Michael Jackson in “The Wiz.” I leaned my head slightly to the left toward Matt, whose husband was an Eagle Scout. “Matt.” I whispered breathlessly. “What are we supposed to do?” Matt whispered back, “I have no idea.” Freaking great! Didn’t his husband share any nature-skills with him? Like didn’t they have like a “wild moose attack” badge to complete or something!? Thanks for nothing, Boy Scouts of America!
Almost instinctually, we slowly dismounted the bikes, stumbling over the awkward toe clips. Then a silence came over us. A sudden respect for nature and a realization that these animals were way bigger than us, we couldn’t control them, and we had no clue what they were going to do. If we were to try to get away from them, that would have required that we actually concoct a plan. Perhaps create a diversion so that some of us could attempt to clumsily pedal away from him like Chariots of Fire? That seemed way above our pay grade at that moment. In the end, we seemed to all sense in unison that there was nothing to do but watch them.
Shockingly, we learned later at dinner that was in actuality the correct response. If they’re not charging at you, you’re supposed to be still and watch them. The tendency is to want to do something, am I right? People get impatient with a moose. But the best thing to do is give them time and wait for them to move along. If you don’t give a moose time to do it’s thing, it could charge at you and cause all kinds of issues; namely knock you onto your ass causing severe injury, or possibly even death. For real.
Our moose continued to walk straight at us, and suddenly when they were literally close enough to see their breath, they stopped, looked at each other, made an abrupt turn downhill and continued meandering along just minding their own business. I don’t think any of us will ever forget that day-once we stopped being afraid and scrambling to try to figure out what to do, we were able to witness the beauty of this animal just doing it’s thing in it’s natural habitat. Bonus: Amazingly, we didn’t mess anything up and cause the moose to get all agitated and charge, which was nothing short of a minor miracle.
So that being said, I’m finding that sometimes in my life the best response is to just watch some situations unfold. We tend to want to control people, places and things, at least to some degree. But most times, it’s better not to mess with them- just let them percolate and do their thing. Sometimes that means the situation will eventually just move along, and other times it’s been quite apparent that taking action is the necessary response. But it’s usually in that pausing and watching with patience where my wisest choices have come from. It’s the practice of non-reactivity, and I can tell you at least from my personal experience, it’s saved me many unnecessary dramas, messes and apologies.
It’s Don Miguel Ruiz’s third agreement in his book, “The Four Agreements”: Don’t Make Assumptions. Admittedly, I’ve wasted time in the past on useless mind-f*cks. For example,: the countless times in the past when I’ve created in my head what others are thinking or feeling, I can (and have) reacted emotionally when in actuality, there was zero truth to the story line in my head. Not making assumptions about anyone or anything has helped me to mind my own business and practice non-judgement and non-attachment. On a personal level, not making assumptions has also reminded me not to give any power to anyone else’s opinions of me- whether seemingly positive or negative.
Since that day in Sitka, here’s a tool I’ve found useful in negating any bullshit that enters my mind: Choose to watch that moose walk on by, reacting only unless it’s absolutely necessary.
Oh, and on that note: A little piece of random information from Sitka Alaska to tuck away into your “Probably-Never-Gonna-Need-to-Use-It” File: If you encounter a moose clearly charging directly at you, here’s what you’re supposed to do:
STEP 1: PANIC.
STEP 2: RUN LIKE HELL.
You’re Welcome.
