Outdoor Adventures

It's time to pick back up where I left off, before hiking the Chilkoot becomes nothing more than a nostalgic smile.


It's amazing how I can only half sleep while on the trail and still feel more rested than I ever will after an undisturbed night on a queen size mattress. Rocky called out to us to wake up around 4:15 am, but I had already been expecting this for hours. We packed our things in the dim light of dawn, not worrying about disturbing sleeping neighbors. The boys had somehow slipped out of camp quite silently, not even setting off our internal bear alarms. We wondered if they had even bothered to go to bed, as we had heard a lot of noise around midnight. We hypothesized that they might have packed up and slept in the cabin also.


The mosquitos weren't too bad as we ate our breakfasts and shoved things into backpacks at the last minute. Rocky tried to get me to add chocolate chips to my breakfast. He'd brought an entire Nestle's bag, and he realised this was the last chance to get some weight off before the Pass. After refusals all around, he decided to leave the ziplock bag in the bear bin, perhaps as a longed-for treat for future summer hikers low on food. Yvette followed his lead and dropped some power bars into the bin, with a note that offered them up to anyone not worried about minimizing their own weight load.


The mosquitos began to move around just as we were getting ready to hit the trail, and Ken decided to power hike out of the riparian area to save himself. I stayed back, somewhere in between him and Rocky and Yvette. I sang as I walked and clapped my hands: this was thick-brushed bear country. The ranger had told us that a bear family was hanging around his hut up the trail, and I expected to meet one or two on an early morning search for food at any moment. Despite the ominous feeling, I stopped to appreciate the beautiful surroundings and the mountains on each side of the trail. This section of the trail is a long avalanche shoot, and the brushy growth is the result of a 1996 avalanche taking out much of the older forest we had previously seen on the trail. This marked a sudden vegetation change from the other side of the Sheep Camp island.

So imagine my surprise when I saw Ken, hiking at me from behind. He was red faced and out of breath, and we stopped at the old Sheep Camp for a water break. Rocky and Yvette caught up to us, and Ken found it necessary to answer the quizzical expressions on all of our faces. Ken had hiked out with the intent of getting away from the mosquitos, putting one foot in front of the other rapidly and keeping his head down. He hadn't noticed for at least a half mile that he was hiking back the way we came in. Now before that sounds like a ridiculous mistake for an experienced hiker, remember that the sun doesn't truly set in the west and rise in the east in Alaska. With mountains on every side of the trail, it took Ken a while to look up and notice that something was wrong. But go ahead and laugh. We did.




Ken and I hiked pretty much side by side after his detour. We had 4.2 miles (6.8 kms) to go to reach the base of the Golden Staircase, otherwise known as the Scales; and we had to get there as quickly as possible, before the sun rotted the snow in the Pass. Rocky had advised that Long Hill was the next section of the hike that we had to look forward to (although those weren't his words), and I found myself constantly wondering when it would start.



We were anticipating a brutal, slow and long ascent. I had plenty of water, but Ken had already used up a lot of his after his vigorous morning wakeup. We stopped so he could fill up (as much as he ever does... Ken doesn't like to carry water weight, which is why it is good he is a man and also why he isn't convinced that hiking the PCT is a good idea) at a stream near the boundary between the subalpine and alpine vegetation. I love alpine tundra, for both its vegetation and interesting geologic formations. I don't even mind scrambling over difficult terrain, like this giant field of chunky, sharp-angled boulders. I felt a bit like a mountain goat, as I hauled myself, my pack, and my trekking poles up and over rocks taller than me. I wasn't at all surprised when I saw a sheep on the distant hillside, but it was still impressive to watch it walk down cliffs at a nearly ninety degree angle.








It dawned on us, as we scrambled past the boulders and begin to reach patches of snow, that we had been hiking the notorious Long Hill for a Long Time. It didn't really seem to deserve this reputation, even at 5:30 in the morning with a looming deadline. Soon all we could see ahead was snow. When I post-holed through a soft patch, Ken and I decided to pull out our gaiters and wait for Rocky and Yvette to catch up.


We had read that the Taiya River flowed down from the Pass and through the chute where we stood, and we had to cross over it in order to continue with our hike. We could hear water flowing but couldn't see it under the snow. Crossing over a deep, fast-flowing glacial river covered in rapidly melting, unstable snow is an unnerving thought; but it was just a hint of what we would experience in the next several hours.





Ken and I scoped out the area; and once we regrouped, we headed up slope, crossed the River safely, and soon arrived at the Scales.


I dropped my pack and began to prepare a mid-morning snack. It was 8:30 in the morning





As we neared Sheep Camp, we saw that the trail had been re-routed. It was new construction, not yet complete; and we had to be careful not to trip over roots. The unfinished surface of the trail was mulch a few inches deep, and it felt a lot like walking in sand or on tundra. Hiking on surfaces like this gets old fast; and I was happy to see a newly constructed zigzag bridge over the Taiya, signalling our arrival at the island that is Sheep Camp. However as this was day two of our hike, I really had my hiking legs under me. Part of me wanted to knock this section out as quickly as possible and head to the pass, but I knew that this wasn't logistically practical. Summit Day is supposed to be special anyway, and I knew I didn't want to hurry through the Golden Staircase.

Sheep Camp was soggy. We learned from Ranger Jeremy, who would come down from the Ranger station to brief us on the trail ahead, that the trail was rerouted because the old trail was underwater. Apparently the Taiya migrates a great deal in this particular stretch: Sheep Camp had already been moved once to its present location, and the Park Service is getting ready to move it again. There were platforms to pitch tents on (convenient if you have a free-standing tent but not so great for us); and because the water table is high, there were composting toilets raised up on platforms. These were the nicest outhouses of the trip!

Sheep Camp is a large, sprawling camp; but the tent sites are very close together. For the first time on the trip, I realised just how crowded the trail could potentially be during the Chilkoot Summer months. We were early in the season still. I was thankful for that, even if being early did represent an extra five pounds that I would carry for the duration of the trip (snowshoes!).

I said it once, but it bears repeating: Sheep Camp was soggy. I quickly realised that Ken would be useless for camp chores, beyong pitching the tent. Mosquitos were everywhere, and they honed in on him. As soon as the tent was staked and guyed, Ken dove in, dragging his sleeping bag behind him. From this point forward, I would feed anything he needed underneath the screen door, while he madly swatted the viscious mosquitos that snuck in with the gear. Yvette filtered water, washed up, and followed Ken's example. I hung clothes to dry, washed up, filtered water in the icy cold river, and attempted to read my book at a picnic table on a gravel bar. The attempt was unsuccessful: the mosquitos were ridiculous. Rocky had sought refuge in the wall tent shelter with a couple of the boys. Although the two groups were still giving each other plenty of space, and I felt like it would be good to break the ice a bit, I couldn't bear the thought of sitting in a dark shelter.

I decided to cook an early dinner so that I could head to bed with my book. I was soon joined by Rocky, Yvette, and Ken. Dinner talk centered around mosquitos and our upcoming Summit Day. Soon Ranger Jeremy arrived to give a talk about trail and weather conditions. He confirmed our suspicions that the earlier we hit the trail, the better. Although he had history and wildlife presentations, Ranger Jeremy was astute enough to recognize that we had an early morning (and thus an early bed time). Ken and I had decided we should leave camp by 4:00 am to avoid soft snow. Rocky and Yvette were pushing for 5:30. We compromised with a 5:00 am departure.

We cleaned up from dinner; stashed the smelly food bags and toiletries in the bear boxes; and Yvette, Ken, and I headed to the tents, while Rocky journaled. You can see just how bad the mosquitos were. Yvette took this photograph of Rocky through the mesh, rather than risking several mosquito bites and the annoyance of extra mosquitos in her tent. Ken amused himself by exhaling toward the tent wall and watching the mosquitos frantically try to get to the warm blooded mammal, poking their proboscides through the silnylon.

I read my book until I could convince myself to fall asleep, around 7:30 or 8:00. Ken laughed that I had brought Edward Abbey's Black Sun on a backpacking trip. But I thought, what could be better than reading about love, the forest, and love under the sun in the forest while in the forest? Of course, there was a little of Edward Abbey thrown in for good measure (sex, a mysterious disappearance, death, and grief). As this was one of Abbey's favorites, I felt that it wouldn't be appropriate to read it while sitting on a cozy couch. It felt much more suited for the dirt, sweat, and damp of the Chilkoot.

I had noticed some old, overgrown trails just before the restaurant stove. Yvette was sure they were animal trails, but I convinced her to head back with me for a peak. It turned out that they led to old building foundations and piles of cool junk. We were glad we checked it out.



By the time we were done exploring the historic garbage (which was definitely interesting garbage), the guys had already crossed the suspension bridge and headed back down the main trail to camp. That didn't stop Yvette and I from testing the spring on the bridge. I felt like a naughty child, jumping on a new mattress.



Back in camp, Ken and I packed our food bags into our backpacks and lazed in the sunshine as Rocky and Yvette broke camp. Soon we headed down the trail toward our lunch spot at Pleasant Camp, 2.7 miles (4.4 kms) away. We stepped off the trail to snap a quick shot of the bridge- and have some more bouncing fun- before any serious hiking could take place. Beyond the suspension bridge, the trail diverged from the Taiya River for the first time. The Taiya disappeared into a steep canyon, and we began climbing. We saw relics of the old telegraph and tram lines, strung through the trees all along our path. The day was quickly as hot as the first, and the glaciers again beckoned in the distance. I enjoyed watching the vegetation change from that of the coastal rainforest to something in between rainforest and alpine. The earthy, bitter smell of giant devil's club followed much of our hike. Fiddlehead ferns, spruce tips, wood columbine, and other edibles played hide and seek in the multi-dimensional green of the forest. Fast flowing mountain streams, tumbling toward the Taiya far below, provided us with icy cold drinking water. Innovative gold miners or Tlingit packers from long ago encourage our forward progress, as a sapling they had long ago bent into a directional marker still stands as a sentry along the trail.





In no time, we descended to the cobbled banks of the Taiya, where we would lunch, wash, and nap in the sunshine.

Being that we're more than halfway through summer, we're packing in the field work as much as possible. Unfortunately I have some projects that require quite a bit of office time, and this year's field work hasn't been that exciting. But I'll take what I can get and enjoy the subtleties of this wild place. (If you're riding ATVs in a large group, subtleties are about all you get.)

That said, I have some more lovely pictures to share:

Mystery
Grizzly and wolf tracks	Dwarf fireweed

These were taken on a trip near Denali National Park and Preserve. We stopped to scout our way through a muddy mess, and I happened to glance down at my tire at the first set of tracks. No one I was with could be sure of their origin: too small for a wolf, too big for a fox, not the right area for a coyote because of the presence of wolves. I placed my finger next to the tracks for scale to ID back at the office. It turns out they could be wolverine tracks. This is the only set I've seen that weren't in snow, and these are very fresh. The claw marks are sharply defined, and this mud fills in fast. I'm guessing, based on the water in the prints, that the tracks are 15-30 minutes old. Based on the size, it was probably a female. No way we would have seen this snarly, elusive, powerful weasel with all of the noise we were making. But very exciting all the same!

Of note, the mystery tracks are quite the source of debate down in Healy. I've heard everything from lynx to domestic dog. I still think wolverine is a possibility, as they leave a variety of prints. Maybe we'll never know.

The second picture was taken on the eastern bank of the Savage River. The bear track is that of a grizzly, probably a yearling or two-year-old according to size. Next to it is a wolf track. These scavengers were probably searching the shore for washed up carcasses. We placed a stem of fireweed in the picture for scale.

Finally, dwarf fireweed growing right in the Savage River. This is a species found in areas of disturbance, but not disturbance of this magnitude! The water levels were obviously quite high- just below record levels in the area. The mighty Savage prevented us from heading west to the Teklanika on this trip. The water levels seem to be changing fast.

Alaska will talk to you in subtle ways if you listen.

So you can follow the journey...

There is a link to the map here. I'm not reposting it, as the size doesn't come out large enough. They want that $2.00...!