The go-carts and caramel apples from the Rocky Mountain Chocolate Factory also come to mind, but I can’t think of Estes Park, Colorado, without thinking of my sunburned nose. Elk were milling about the edges of town, there were trout in a nearby lake, but my nose ended up nearly purple and stands out in my memory. It blistered and later cracked. The thin air, duration and lack of sunscreen (my ears got lotion, so did my neck and cheeks but I missed the most obvious spot) joined forces to create a painful childhood memory.
I thought about that summer day over the weekend as two hours became three, then four, on a secluded beach with friends.
I was “getting some sun” which is euphemistic for realizing that a burn was in progress or had already happened and was worsening.
But the Alaska burn is a different burn. The angle of the rays thanks to the tilt of the Earth necessitates more contact with the atmosphere before it reaches us, so the attitude toward exposure is different. Alaskans, especially in Southeast, wear burns with a sense of pride that doesn’t exist in parts of the world in which skin cancer is an ever present threat. Dismiss exposure at your peril the closer you live to the equator.
Sunscreen was passed around, but I declined. There is growing evidence that some of the cheapest and most popular sunscreens contain chemicals that have been deemed unsafe by the FDA, though that wasn’t my reason. It was simple irresponsibility.
Regarding chemicals, on a scale from oblivious to tinfoil hat, I am somewhere on the cautious side. The amount of chemicals we ingest, not to mention plastics, can’t be good for us and the numbers are becoming more specific and unnerving. What was an educated guess is becoming more clear. So I’ve gone to covering up with those light, breathable sun shirts that make me look like I’m ready to step onboard a skiff to fish for bonefish in Belize.
But not on Saturday. Saturday I pulled up my pant legs and absorbed. Other than burying the tops of my feet a few different times, I paid more attention to enjoying the experience.
It could be considered negligent to allow even an occasional sunburn because skin cancer is no joking matter. Yet it is impossible to be completely without incongruities involving healthy decisions.
People would never, ever consider eating farmed fish because it is, in addition to being an abomination, filled with contaminants. Yet those same people might eat fast food or drink soda without care for contaminants or chronic-illness-inducing amounts of sugar.
A man who preaches self-care and kindness spends four hours a day on social media arguing.
A woman puffs on her nicotine and chemical-laced vape as she explains she only eats organic, free-range food because of the hormones and antibiotics.
Observe everyone long enough and hypocrisy is inevitable, so it’s probably better to avoid being the, “Well, actually…” person.
Anyway, there was a grouse hooting up the slope behind us. Ravens circled and chatted, utilizing nearly the full range of their dialects. A whale cruised, leaving columns of spray that evaporated quickly in the heat.
The fire was efficient and perfect for cooking gourmet hot dogs and sausages. I forgot tinfoil for the onion, but it roasted nicely and added luxury to the beach day meal.
I definitely got a little sun, but nothing that will make me remember anything other than the highlights of a day trip to a remote beach on a sunny Southeast Alaska day.
• Jeff Lund is a freelance writer based in Ketchikan. His book, “A Miserable Paradise: Life in Southeast Alaska,” is available in local bookstores and at Amazon.com. “I Went to the Woods” appears twice per month in the Sports & Outdoors section of the Juneau Empire.
