As a traveler, I have crisscrossed America many times — back and forth, up and down. I’ve climbed mountains and descended into valleys and canyons. This year, at 50 years old, my goal was to visit Alaska and Hawaii, the last two of the 50 states. I planned this trip for many months, interviewed friends who lived in the states or had visited there. I read guidebooks, and watched many YouTube videos. The itinerary had to be precise and anticipate issues, like accessibility, geography and availability. Many places are accessible only by boat, others only by air.

Alaska is big, for sure, but also like a small town because it has few roads and no highways. Traveling to a largely uncharted territory like Alaska, with all its complexity, made me pray the prayer of Jacob: “God, if you bring me back whole….”  Negotiating this state is somewhat like a military operation — you must memorize the roadmap so that when you travel by night, you can tell which. mountain to circle and what valley to cross, where and when. You must count steps and remember at any moment the compass points you are following.

But walking on an ancient glacier and drinking the water right from it — who does that?  The taste and purity of untainted water revived my body and soul.  

In Hawaii, you forget for a moment that it’s a tiny island in the middle of a vast ocean, thus 90 percent of native Hawaiian fauna and flora are unique to the state. The mangoes are heavenly. When you taste the real thing, you know it. Of course, Hawaii offers gorgeous weather and beaches, yet it is amazing how different each island is from another. It’s like finding out that dogs from the same litter may look similar, but have totally different personalities.  

I learned on my last day at the Volcano National Park, that all of the islands were “born” at the same spot, where the lava comes through the conduit from the earth. And then they leave their place of birth and shift at the rate that it takes to grow fingernails. As they shift, they also diminish. That is why the largest island is the youngest, still with its volcanic black rock and land mass on top of the volcano.  

Of course, the fires in Maui changed the whole dynamic of my visit. We prayed in Lahaina and volunteered to distribute water to affected residents.  Leading a bar mitzvah there was a pinnacle.   

Alaska and Hawaii are different but share connections. That idea is captured well in the logos of the national airlines — Alaska’s with its rugged man, covered in thick, hunted fur; Hawaii’s with a beautiful woman adorned with a colorful flower nested in her hair. They illustrate cold and the warm, the Arctic and the Tropic, the masculine and the feminine. Curiously, I was warm in Alaska and sometimes cold in Hawaii. In Alaska, I left nothing to chance; in Hawaii, I was spontaneous, going with the spirit.  

Six months earlier, I didn’t know much about Alaska and Hawaii. Planning the trip was a trip itself, a journey of exploration. Most meaningful were the places where I met the local people — a 12-hour ride to the Arctic and back with David; the Frozen Chosen, who taught me that “in the lower 48, man is big, nature is small, but in Alaska, nature is big, man is small”;  meeting Fr. Ben, who walked with me in Anchorage on Shabbat; flying with George for an hour over St. Alias Mountains; driving with Johnny on the four-hour McCarthy road; Shabbat in Maui. These were opportunities for emersion, revealing and educating conversations.    

The last morning in Hawaii, I stayed up most of the night watching the super blue moon and then the sunrise in the land of the rising sun. My back was stressed, I had blisters on my feet, but I experienced a healed soul. Seeing the vastness of the land, enlarges the spirit.

I love this country — its geography, its history, and its promise of new frontiers.

May this year expand our frontiers, 

—Rabbi Gadi Capela