When is this going to end?!? This sucks! Dammit, why are we doing this? Is this really the best way? This is stupid. Can’t we just go around? I’m so sick of this crap. We’ve been suffering through this so long, it feels like forever. Are you absolutely sure this is the right way? I can’t even see two feet in front of my face. I can’t even see the sky. And I’m pretty sure I haven’t even touched the ground since we started. How much longer? Please tell me that we never have to do this again. SHWAK!!! Owwwww, that freaking hurt. Right in the f-ing face. Plaaahhh, cough, cough, spit. Guess I need to cover my mouth.

Wait, I think I see light. Holy cow I think I see light!!! Is that the end? Can that really be the end?!? Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, it is the end. Yes, yes, YES!!! Whew, we finally made it. Wow, that was the absolute WORST thing that I have ever experienced. How long did that last, like three months? Oh, it was only 40 minutes. Well it felt like an eternity. How far did we go? A quarter mile, that’s it?!? Felt like seventeen miles. I never thought we would make it. I never, ever want to do that again.

Although that may sound oddly similar to how many of us are feeling during the COVID-19 pandemic, this is actually a very accurate portrayal of what it’s like to bushwhack in Alaska. I assure you that my words are not an exaggeration.

Anyone who has ever experienced a Grade 5 Bushwhack in Alaska will back me up. It’s no joke. The brush is so thick it is nearly impossible to move at times. The willows are so closely spaced that you can’t even touch the ground. You just kind of have to push your body over them and roll, fall or leap forward. The air is suffocating because there is barely room for light to enter your space much less allow anything but brushy bits into your mouth while breathing. Your clothes and backpack get stuck in the branches with every step and you’re constantly getting whacked in the face. It’s difficult, it’s painful and it’s definitely not fun.

Even if you begin your shwak with optimistic determination, within about five minutes you are over it. All you want is to be done with it but you are quickly reminded that Alaska doesn’t care what you want. You just have to keep pushing through knowing that it will eventually end. And you will be a stronger and better person for it.

So this whole pandemic has got me thinking about bushwhacking all of a sudden. Normally I try to avoid it at all costs unless it is absolutely necessary. But now I have a whole new attitude about shwakking. When I finally get up to Alaska again this summer I am going to seek out the brushiest, nastiest place I can find and dive right in. Why would I do such a thing? Well, it’s simple. Knowing what I know about Alaska, I’m confident that a good dose of shwakking gnar will make me look back at this pandemic and think, “Things can always be worse!”