What a Day Was Yesterday

Technically, it started with a victory in Chinese Checkers, a midnight snack run, and an unnerving bike ride home through a windy and almost dark night. Then after the quarter to six alarm, a tired shower, making sandwiches and packing snacks enough for two, a phone call to a flaky friend to not surprisingly discover I'll be on my own for the day, I was off on my adventure into the park on the same bike as the night before, down Otto Lake Road towards the highway. At the highway I ditched the bike and began walking in the direction in which the entrance of the park laid thirteen miles down the road, hoping for generosity from the limited number of passing cars. Five bucks later I arrived at the Wilderness Access Center, and reserved my seat on a bus going 90 miles into the park to Kantishna, twelve hours round trip and as far as they let people go.





Our bus was friendly. In the first ten minutes we sighted a grizzly just off of the highway. Throughout the day we saw several more grizzlies, mamas and their cubs and some lone riders, plenty of caribou though none too close up, two beautifully colored red foxes, and one moose with a giant rack. Blueberries grow wild here, and I took time by Wonder Lake to bag some. They're great in oatmeal. There were a couple of backpackers on the bus I talked with and of course became envious of their multi-day adventure they were in store for. I offered to move their car from the day parking to the overnight lot, and they trusted me enough to take me up on it. After handing over their keys, exchanging contact info on old receipts and torn book pages, we said we'd try to meet up at the music festival this weekend as they set off away from the highway and up a mountain.

Mt. McKinley, also goes by Denali, meaning "The Great One"

It was growing late as the bus was on the return trip home, and I wanted to scrape a little bit more out of the day and go explore somewhere. I got dropped off in the general vicinity of Cathedral Mountain, and had roughly two hours to make it back to the highway to catch the last shuttle out of the park. Singing and talking loudly to myself the whole time to notify any nearby animals in hiding that I'm coming, I made my way across a creek, up a steep valley then around a crest and up another vertical stretch to what I thought was the peak. From the top another peak on the other side of a deep canyon was visible, much higher and with a visible trail circling around along ridges and slanted scree slopes to the base of a crazy steep scramble to the top. I had fifteen minutes before I had to turn around and still be comfortable on time. I went for it. Running where I could, being careful where I needed to be. After a few falls and a bloody couple of fingers, I made it to the top twenty minutes later. A quick rest in gusting winds and it was time to turn around, sliding down the rocky slopes, running around the ridges and taking shortcuts I was now aware of. Then what sounded like the shriek of an eagle caught my attention, and I saw two wolverines skirting around on a rock quarry. Wolverines are some of the rarest animals seen in the park, and known to be pretty ferocious, especially for their size. I hesitated for a second, now reminded I was alone out here in this wild place, and took the long way around, singing louder then ever in my anxious hurry back to the road. I made it back into the valley I came up through, except now as I rounded a bend in the mountain in front of me was an enormous mama grizzly and her two cubs, about a hundred yards away and blocking my way back to the road. Encountering a grizzly when hiking is never a good situation, add to it your alone and she's got two cubs with her and you didn't see them until you're a little too close for comfort and its worse. Again I hesitated, then bent low and slowly backed away hoping they hadn't yet noticed me. I backtracked up the valley a bit, climbed over a ridge now separating me from the bears, and, singing and yelling still louder, made my way down to and across the creek and back up to the road. It wasn't long before the next bus came. I let the driver know to look for the grizzlies, and we sat on the side of the highway looking down into the valley I had just come out of. As I listened to a bus full of tourists like myself 'ooohing' and 'ahhing' at the size and beauty of the animals, I sat back and relished in this moment, in this safe seat in a safe bus a safe distance away, in my experience of terrifying adventure that in hindsight is the always best kind.

From the actual top of Cathedral Mountain, just before the real adventure began

I enjoyed meeting more great people on that bus, sharing my stories and hearing what they're up to around here. I found the car I was responsible for and moved it to the appropriate location, accepted a ride to a bar from the grandparents and granddaughter I sat next to for the last few hours of the ride, relaxed with friends over a drink, went and had a hearty half-off burger with a couple of guys I work with, and then back to the house where I gratefully laid down and passed out, exhausted from a day that could not have gone any better.

Travel is good?

My good sister filled the title page of a book she gave to me with this quote by Mark Twain...

"Travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry, and narrow-mindedness, and many of our people need it sorely on these accounts. Broad, wholesome, charitable views of men and things cannot be acquired by vegetating in one little corner of the earth all one's lifetime."

I got into a conversation with a friend about whether it's okay to be intolerant towards people's willingness to stay put. I don't know if it has to to with having the mountains to the north, a border south, an ocean west and desert to the east, but from the outside, I notice Southern California is a difficult place to get out of for most. I would say that gaining multiple perspectives on something is the only way to see something for what it truly is, whether its the world, different cultures, humanity as a whole, or the place you grew up or what you believe in. I'm fully aware this is a mighty convenient perspective to have given my current situation.

And Now We Have Pictures

The setting moon over the Alaska Range flying into Fairbanks. There's something about traveling alone, spending time in airports and meeting other people doing the same thing as you that is a type of rush. It's the foreshadowing of adventure. That rainbow glare is just the result of my laziness in not wanting to take off the polarizer, oh well, it turned out cool.

This is what I had to adjust to. My first day in Healy, I spent all of it sitting around, reading, not doing much at all, which was an extreme contrast to the previous couple weeks in California. Transitions are made easy when you have something like this to look at, this is the view of Otto Lake from a small beach a short walk from the house. My favorite place to be when the bugs are tolerable.

All last week I was looking forward to Saturday and my first day off since I got here. When I switched shifts with someone and it got pushed back a day I didn't care and went hiking anyway. This is the view from the top of the first peak you summit on the trail to Sugarloaf. It's about the half way point, I ate a small lunch, took a little nap, and turned around here. In the very near future I'll be making it all the way to Sugarloaf.

Ah, and then there's my day off. Going on a hike the previous day meant I felt no obligation to do anything but lounge. It consisted of huddling in the shade of some trees down by the lake, trying to avoid the too-warm sun. A seventy-five page sprint to finish a book I was previously unimpressed with. A phone call from my childhood babysitter letting me know we just happen to be working in the same small town in Alaska this summer (who I finally did rendezvous with last night, we had a great time hanging out and letting everyone know just how far we go back). Bright purples wildflowers surrounding me in the brush. For hours hearing nothing but the sound of swarming bees, horseflies, and mosquitos, and young kids playing somewhere in the distance. The book ended on the note that the overdone pursuit of physical beauty and social acceptance will mutilate you. Thankfully, as I was easily reminded this day, beauty runs fairly deep here.

This is what I do...

If you look close enough, you might just see me in there in a shot or two. I've been working since I got here and tomorrow get my first day off. Just about to head out with friends for a 'free' (we get comped for things so we can then go ahead and advertise them to our customers, except then we're expected to leave a better than average tip making it still barely worth it for this frugal kid) all you can eat salmon and ribs dinner theater, and then I'm thinking I'll try and hitch a ride to a trail head in the morning and climb Mt. Healy, a nearby peak I've been giving tours under. There's bush fires north of us so the visibility hasn't been great the last week or so, but we've been getting some afternoon thunderstorms here and there and it's cleared up a bit the last few days. I've been hoping for a perfect partly cloudy day tomorrow all week, with some giant white clouds that cast shadows across the land and air quality that allows me to see for miles and miles from atop the mountain. We'll see what we get.

From Alaska

It's Saturday about midday, meaning I've had enough time now to settle in to the new routine of things. My flight out here went fine, meeting a few friendly and interesting people on the flights. I sat on the Seattle runway and watched the sunset, then as we took off it rose just a little bit back into the sky and for the next three and a half hours direct to Fairbanks it didn't move a bit. There was the beautiful dusk glow out my window the entire flight as we flew over incredible landscape, the last of which was the Alaska Range and Mt. McKinley. After collecting my baggage and walking outside, I was just in time to see the sun again go behind some hills just after midnight.

I ran some errands around Fairbanks and then drove a couple hours to the small coal mining town of Healy. There was definitely a necessary lifestyle adjustment when I arrived here. There's more time to do nothing, and to read and to write and to cook meals. It's much simpler. My second day at the house was my first day of work. I spent some time in the garage learning about the machines, something I didn't do at all last year. Then I tagged along in the rear of our Stampede Trail tour. Yesterday I was able to lead a few of our Otto Lake tours, and am now into the flow of things. The land is as beautiful as it was last year, and still surprises and amazes me constantly. I'm grateful to be here.