Week 10 — Returning North: This Time, Together
A first glimpse of Denali National Park — returning north, with more ahead.
I didn’t return from Alaska thinking about going back. I returned thinking about what had changed. Only later did it become clear that the experience wasn’t finished — it was simply making room for what would come next. Let me share how the decision to return to Alaska came about.
My first trip had left a deep imprint on me. It wasn’t just memorable — it stayed with me. I felt uplifted by the experience, steady in a way that lingered long after I came home, and I realized I could imagine doing it all again.
In January of 2025, Dave and I were talking one evening about places we still hoped to travel. Alaska was high on his list — a place he had long wanted to explore. I told him I would absolutely return, even to the same kind of experience I’d just had. Dave wondered instead if we might try somewhere new — a part of Alaska I hadn’t seen yet.
A quiet cup of tea before flying into the heart of Denali National Park.
The next day, an email arrived from Wayde, the owner of Light Minded Photography Tours, sharing details about an upcoming trip to Denali National Park in the summer of 2025.
Dave and I talked for less than twenty minutes.
If there was room for both of us, we were in.
Within a day of that original conversation about places we hoped to explore, we were signed up to return to Alaska — this time together.
Floatplanes touching down on a quiet lake in Alaska.
We also knew we wanted more time — not just to return, but to see more of Alaska.
As we began preparing for the trip, a close friend suggested that we record notes along the way — small observations, reflections, questions — so that later we could shape the experience into something more lasting. A coffee table book. A way to bring the photographs and the story together.
Dave and I started outlining what we wanted to learn, what we might ask, and what we hoped to notice as we moved through the landscape.
It was in those early conversations — long before the bags were packed — that Seen in My Lens: Alaska began to quietly take shape.
This was the rhythm we were stepping back into.
