Contradicting Stories
Sarah's story
Bride
Ben and I met in March of 2016 on a group ski trip to Thompson Pass, outside of Valdez. By the end of the trip, most of the group members were exhausted, injured, or just wanted a break from skiing--except Ben and me. Even though we had just met, Ben and I began exploring Thompson Pass together. I was impressed that Ben was cheerful during marginal visibility, questionable snow, and long tours. The next winter, a big group of friends ended up camping together in Turnagain pass. Again, Ben was interested in cooler, bigger, and steeper lines than anyone else. When he asked me to go splitboarding after the holiday celebration, I was glad to explore new mountains with him. In the past six years, we've learned to packraft and climb on glaciers, bought a house together, remodeled a kitchen and several rooms, survived my long recovery from a torn ACL, said goodbye to a very old and very good dog, built a greenhouse and a sauna, moved to Seattle for Ben's grad school, spent January in a dry cabin in Healy, adopted a retired husky, driven said husky to Seattle and back again, and bought 7 acres in Hope, Alaska. During that time Ben left his job and started a PhD program in snow ecology, I worked rope access gigs across the world and got into illustrating outdoors how-to books, and we both are looking forward to the many weird adventures to come.
Ben's story
Groom
Sarah and I met during an art-themed potluck in fall 2015, well before skiing together. Either she was too busy drawing to remember me or didn’t find my Telephone-Pictionary sketches noteworthy. A few months after the above photo, as the snow started melting, I wondered how I could keep hanging out with this really cool girl after ski season. She suggested packrafting, so I nervously showed up to the aptly-named Glacier Creek with a bike helmet and ragged rainjacket. At the put in, the thundering whitewater threatened to drown out Sarah's calm explanation that flows were currently higher than usual due to a strong spring melt. I was absolutely terrified, and sure enough, I flipped at the first riverbend. I had a frigid swim, Sarah fished out my borrowed boat from the rapid, and together we reassembled my gear, my teeth chattering and my hands numb. The second riverbend had the same outcome. And the third bend. And the fourth. When I was too cold to retie my shoes, we finally bushwhacked out of the canyon and began the walk of shame downhill to the car. She certainly wasn't impressed with my paddling abilities, so she must have found my persistence endearing. Or at least more memorable than my art skills. Either way, she somehow kept inviting me out. Now, paddling is a favorite shared activity. Thanks to her patient teaching (as well as warmer gear), we’ve been able to embark on some wonderful packrafting adventures in the wilderness that recharges us both.