Keep going and sit quiet

Alaska wildfires raged ahead of us, shutting down the only road we could take. Earlier news reported this area was not endangered. My husband and I waited beside a barricade with a handful of motorists while a flagman shrugged off our questions. How close is the fire? How long will the road be closed?

He spit on the gravel. “The pilot truck’s coming and will lead you through.” He didn’t look down the two-lane highway that disappeared into deep forest. “Once you go, keep going. No turning around. Don’t stop.”

We didn’t want to backtrack and lose days of travel, so we drifted to our car and waited. We read. Snacked. Strolled around. Sat bored. We waited. And waited until…

The flagman’s two-way radio crackled to life, and after a brief exchange he removed the barricade. At last!

A pilot truck with a neon orange flag flapping from its antennae rounded a bend toward us, followed by four cars. Not many traveled this remote section of Alaska.

The leader turned around to escort our small group. With a stern nod, our flagman scolded each vehicle as it passed him, “Follow the pilot. Don’t stop for nothing.”

Finally, we were on our way to Chicken, a former gold mining town whose population swelled to 13 residents in 2018.

We hadn’t driven far when we passed charred brush. Further down the road, smoldering tree trunks dotted the landscape. Steam and smoke swirled off dead stumps. We rounded a curve where flames engulfed an evergreen tree near the road.

My gut clenched. I had assumed the fire was far away. Was this safe?

Our short line of vehicles passed more trees on fire and a weary fire crew trudging to a firetruck parked off road, but our pilot didn’t slow or turn around. We drove along the edges of the fire—a scene I’d not anticipated.

What do you do when you’re caught off guard? Situations change. Projects are harder than expected. Relationships turn messy. Insecurity whispers “turn around.”

When life slaps down challenges, keep going. When fear demands you quit, take the next step.   

Miles later, we breathed relief as the scenery shifted to unscathed forest that opened up to mountains. Beauty surrounded us, but more surprise awaited us.

The town of Chicken wasn’t what I expected. The three connected stores in one weather beaten building, which was covered with tacky tourist signs, summed up this dot on the map. There’s not much there.

As we parked, it began to rain, or so we thought. Huge drops pelted the windshield, but as each hit the glass, it splattered and poofed like smoke, leaving a thin dusty gray ring. The downpour wasn’t water. Smoke from the wildfires had generated massive clouds that now rained ash.

Mesmerized by this strange phenomenon, we sat quiet. The cloud-burst dusted our gray car with white circles.

No one knows what each day will bring. Fearful rough patches. Serene beauty. Clouds raining ash. Embrace the challenges and adventure. But always look up.  You don’t want to miss the blessings that fall.

Keep going—because God’s got it all. Then sit quiet—and thank Him.

Final tidbits:

We ventured inside Chicken’s one building. A quick glance revealed a modest café, bar, and aisles of trinkets. The clerk, a tired-looking woman wearing tattered Carhart bibs, ignored us. Minutes later, back in the car, we headed toward the Yukon not knowing we’d encounter bears and have a flat tire. (stories I’ll write later)

I wanted to see Chicken because of the book Tisha, based on Anne Hobbes, who at the age of 19, traveled to this remote village in 1927  teach in a ramshackle school house. It’s a true story of grit and grace.

Share a time you were glad you kept going or sat quiet. I’d love to hear your stories.

Blessings! Gretchen

gretchencarlsonwriter@gmail.com My website: http://gretchen-carlson.com