Hatcher Pass, Alaska #7

By 7am, the midnight sun became strong enough to gently coax us awake. Sunshine? We ran outside to be sure that it wasn't just a patch of blue sky. Horray! We made a last-minute decision to rent a car. "We'll pick you up!" Rented from Enterprise.

Matt and I searched for a replacement camera, but what is typical during Alaska summers is a rush on camera sales. Too many bonehead tourists dropping their cameras in silty glacier rivers, I guess. I wanted an exact replacement on the one I had drowned, but since it totally rocks for size, lens power, and price, it was the only camera sold out at all three stores we tried. We gave up the search, bought lunch and headed for the Talkeetna Mountains.

I love Fireweed.

Atop 3,800 ft. Hatcher Pass, clouds began to form and lower. Fog formed within the first few minutes of our hike. Did I really waste all the sunshine looking for a camera? Grr! We chose the April Bowl Trail that climbed up to Bald Ridge. The pass was perfectly windless, unusual for mountain passes and this one in particular.

Independence Mine, Hatcher Pass, Palmer.

Summit Lake atop Hatcher Pass.

April Bowl Trail with small kettle lakes.

We climbed through the fog to sunny skies above. As the fog rolled by below us, mountains and lakes in the valley were revealed. My heart leaped for joy. Views like this, although not typical, are why I love Alaska. (These moments make suffering through winter worth it.) This is why I didn't choose to stay in Cali for a backpack trip! Matt kept talking about moving back here when he got the chance. there's no point in deciding now, since there are no openings, but don't be surprised if we will go for a position back here within five years or so. :)

The perfect alpine landscape was covered in kettle lakes, lush green mountainsides, and the faint red tint of the upcoming autumn.

Matanuska River Valley

We had lunch at the highest point on the ridge. The sun came out. Off in the distance, we saw Palmer, the Matanuska River, the Little Susitna River, and the entire river valley area. Clouds were still around, but we were under a sunshine spotlight!

These sandwiches were the best!

Our next stop was to the Independence Mine, a historical site consisting of old machinery and buildings. It's amazing how quickly towns sprung up in these remote places. Overnight towns. The town included a school for children of the married miners. They made a special request for a male teacher because a female one with all the single male miners might cause problems. Haha!

Independence Mine

Pika.

The bunkhouses and entire mining operation was halfway up a mountain. Shafts from the summits and tunnels through the side, 25 miles of tunneling rendered two mountains virtually hollow in the center. Don't hike up there in an earthquake! My hometown in Michigan has miles of mining tunnels beneath it. Mining ceased before WWII and tunnels flooded. The land above these areas has begun to collapse into very deep sink holes. How long until the mountain here begins to collapse?

We cooked a delicious salmon dinner on the grill with garlic potatoes and a nice green salad from Becki's garden. So yummy! Becki's salmon marinade is so yummy! I need her recipe!

Palmer, Alaska #6

Becki was working midnights so Matt and I were left to explore her town solo. Running into Palmer, three miles away, was the perfect way to get our exploring and workout done in one task. Trotting alongside the Glenn Highway, we made our way to town through a curtain of drizzle. Hardly something we notice much anymore given our moist home. We ran a few errands, hit the visitor's center, wandered town and bought food for dinner (pasties!). We had lunch at the Palmer Downtown Deli. Then a few hours later, dessert at DQ. Running home with a backpack full of food and a tummy full of DQ proved to be Matt's undoing. I just told him we were training our stomachs to tolerate more foods. But, then again, I didn't have the backpack's straps pushing on my belly. :) We walked a little until his stomach settled.

The pace was slow, normal for the strenuous weekend we'd just had. A mile from Becki's, I seemed to have loosened up enough for my usual pace. Good enough for a 6.5 mi run and a few walking miles. Close enough to call it an even 10 miles for the day.

Matt and I caught a nap on Becki's over-sized "Teddy Bear" couch--the most comfy couch ever! Pasties for dinner and it was bedtime.

Crow Pass #3, Alaska #5

I awoke to light rain drumming on the tent. Finally, typical southcentral Alaska weather to remind me of what it is REALLY like here. Not all sunshine. Matt and I spotted another black bear on the hillside. I really like seeing them from far away! Bear evidence was everywhere. Footprints the size of my hand in the muddy trail. Scat, laden with bright red berries, was everywhere. "There aren't any hiker bells (jingle bells that backpackers sometimes wear to alert bears) in it, so we should be okay", Matt commented.



The trail closely followed Eagle River. One section looked completely underwater, but a small trail veered inland onto dry ground. We followed it only to find ourselves marooned on a tiny island. We backtracked to the original turnoff, donned our water shoes, and plodded through the knee-deep water. Only 100 ft. was flooded and we felt silly for spending 30 minutes trying to avoid it. The warmer days had produced a rapid flood of melting glacier water into the river, so a bunch of spots were wetter than normal.





The next few wet spots and stream crossings were either bridged or passable across a downed tree. Piece of cake, even with the pack on. Our next stream looked fiercer and deeper, feeding immediately to the river. A group of forest rangers were working to repair the bridge. It was stable, but they warned us of the danger. Feeling all eyes on me, I nervously crossed, using the guide rope for balance. "Might want to undo your hip belt," the ranger called out. I never do this on bridges, but I mindlessly followed his order. My camera slipped from the hip belt buckle and drifted downstream in the swift current. Matt ran after it, followed by the ranger that told me to undo the pack straps. I didn't know if he went to fish out my camera or Matt, but they both took off before I even realized what had happened. My heart sank. All my photos!

By some divine intervention, my camera flung itself into a braid of the stream right in front of Matt. Just like Superman, he snatched it up the moment before the water joined the main river channel. "I love you! You're my hero!!!" I called out as I flung my arms around him. Immediately, I dumped the bag and pooled water inside spilled out. I removed the SD card and batteries to drain even more water. Then I replaced the batteries to pop the lens out to dry it. I spent the rest of the morning being angry what I had done and how stupid it was. I'm normally very careful with my things. Grrr!

Matt cheered me up by telling stories. I tried not to let this ruin my day, but it did. Only here for a week and I had no photos to show for it. (Insert super whiny and self-pitying rant here.)

Matt and I quickly caught up to three tough-looking army boys that had passed us during our lunch stop. Giant muscles bulged from the side of their packs as they swayed down the trail. One was complaining about how sore he was. "Did you guys do the whole trail?, one asked. "Yup," Matt replied, "Started on Friday." As we pulled away, one said, "how the heck are they still going so fast?" It was fun to pass the Hercules men, all buff and masculine. A scrawny girl and guy that would surely lose to them in a fight were kicking butt. haha :)

The last few miles dragged on forever through a birch forest. The rows of trees, creating a never-ending visual symmetry, like looking into one mirror's reflection in another. We arrived at the Eagle River Nature Center a full three hours before our pickup time with Becki. Luckily, the staff was welcoming to dirty, smelly hikers and we waited inside. I fell asleep, clutching my camera while it air-dried.

We stopped at the store to test my memory card. Also, got suggestions to put the camera in a bag of rice to help it dry out. I was also scolded for trying to turn it on. I had known about this rule already, but when panicked, what would you do? See if it works!

The three of us stopped at DQ on the way to Becki's house. The blizzard and shower afterward were A-M-A-Z-I-N-G!!! I quickly curled up and went to sleep.

Crow Pass #2, Alaska #4

Have you ever been on a backpack trip, dozens of miles from civilization and been able to cheer for a running race? Now I have. It was fun to watch the runners go by as we had breakfast. The wind was brutal (a chinook coming thru!), but luckily it was at our backs all day.

Some 200 runners passed us on the Crow Pass Crossing trail race.

How do you keep the tent from blowing away with a 40mph wind? Some people breaking camp
across the mountain had to run down the hill after pieces of their tent. There's no good way, it's all about
how much chasing you want to do.

Snow field below Raven Glacier.

Heading into the river valley.

We hiked through brush so dense and tall that we probably came within 100 ft of a dozen bears and didn't see them. We caught sight of a black bear halfway up a mountain eating grass. That's how I like my bear encounters : at a safe distance.



After a few miles of brush, some snow fields, and scree descents, Matt and I finally decided we were glad to be backpacking instead of running the race. "Hey Bear! Come out and eat Matt, he's juicy!" I called out each time I heard a rustle in the bushes. "Don't use your sexy voice, Karen. They'll come right for us!" Matt replied.

Google Cow Parsnip and you'll see why I hiked with my arms overhead.

Raven Gorge.

Cute little Ground Squirrel. This guy knows the best way to live in Alaska. Eat all summer and then sleep six months.

Eagle Glacier, feeding into Eagle River.

Eagle River.

By 1pm, we'd crossed several creeks, both fording them and on bridges. Now it was the time to really test ourselves: fording Eagle River. Fed by the melting Eagle Glacier, the slate blue water glided by in a swift clip. Other hikers were preparing for their crossing to the opposite bank, some 75 ft. away. They were moving sleeping bags to the top of their packs and adding covers. They must've done this river before, I thought. Matt and I have crossed 10-15 ft. wide glacial rivers, thigh deep, but this looked HUGE compared to them. "Any idea how deep it is?" I asked the man next to me, whom seemed to be guiding his group of eight. "Usually thigh deep on me, but it looks higher today", he replied with an air of condescension, "The only advice I can give you is that it's really cold, so keep moving." Well duh. Like 35F cold. The group stalled, hoping we'd go first. Then we stalled, fidgeting with our packs. To me, it looked to be over my waist. After enough waiting, I took Matt's hand, drew in a quick breath and we were in. The first few seconds were okay, cold and knee-deep. By halfway across, my shorts were soaked to my waist. We fought the current to stay upright. I couldn't feel my toes anymore, my legs were just cold, but ok. I stared into the opaque water, hoping I could eventually see all the rocks my frozen feet were slipping on. Matt lost his balance for a moment, but tugged on me enough to catch himself before going in. Fear radiated from his hand and up my arm. He's never held my hand so tight. OH SHIT, flashed into my head, please let us make it. Swimming is way too cold. Just five minutes in water this temperature can cause hypothermia. The water began to get shallow as we hit the other bank. We walked through shallower braids of the river. The felt so warm! We hid behind some bushes and were in warm clothes in no time. Instant relief. Miraculously, my hip belt was the only thing that got wet on my pack, despite the river coming up to my belly button. Only wet since it was dragging in the water ( quick tip : Don't cross a river with your pack straps tight--you may need to abandon it if you fall over).

All my sore spots were gone though! Horray! We continued on into the forest, stopping for photos and snacks. As my feet got really achy, we came to steep uphills and downhills of eroded trail. Not fun on sore legs with a 25lb pack. Some spots were steep enough to require a rope to climb.





Mike's friend, Joe, came up to us on the trail. "Do you know a Richmond in Anchorage?" he asked. "You mean Mike?" Apparently, Mike told his friend to keep a look out for us on the trail and had only described us as "young". Joe had run the 25 mi. race that morning and hadn't had enough punishment, errrrr..fun, so he was backpacking back to his car at the start of the trail. He seemed a little out of it (understandable!). That's pretty darn awesome! One of the many reasons why I love Alaska. The people are just nuts! It inspires me to become even more nuts! :)

Fourteen miles for the day and at a developed trail camp, we set up the tent and had dinner. Off came the boots...I may always carry my water shoes for camp! This was our longest backpack trail day ever!

Crow Pass #1, Alaska #3

A morning snuggle on the beach. We look really happy don't we?

Cook Inlet and Aleutian Mountains. The fog made the mountains appear as if they are floating.

We drove back across the Kenai for our backpacking dropoff point. Becki had such good luck fishing overnight that she decided to keep on fishing. The cloudless day prompted us to split up for a few days.

Favorite spot again, day 2. :)

THIS is the photo on my kitchen wall, one full year later. I could totally build a cabin on this spot
and live here forever and be happy. I'd probably wear a mosquito net six months of the year, but I'd be happy.

I didn't think I'd need shorts for the hike, so I had to wear my running ones.

By 2pm, Matt and I were on the trail. It climbed quickly, but my legs never got heavy with fatigue (thanks trail running!). Matt began to talk about moving back. Usually it's me. I've finally settled into Eureka and realized that I can be happy anywhere, it doesn't HAVE TO be Alaska for me to be happy. "You know, coming back to visit after less than a year probably means we shouldn't have left," Matt commented. "Well, how about we come back to visit in January before we make a final decision?" I replied. "True. What does it say if I don't even want to visit in January?"

Hungry ladies eat like this.

Crow Creek Valley.

Do you see me there?

As we climbed to the top of Crow Pass, a blue-green lake emerged. It was absolutely stunning in the sunshine. Mountains all around. "This is beautiful! I'm in love all over again", I said to Matt, "Sure we can move, but let's try Anchorage this time."

Another couple leapfrogged with us on the trail. Decked out in flashy orange Five Fingers, a brand new pack, and designer sunglasses (that I swear were for women) the guy rushed ahead at his own pace, leaving his friend behind. He turned around, threw his hands on his hips and waited impatiently for her to catch up. Then within seconds, he'd leave her again. Several times she shouted back for him to wait up, but he didn't. Matt usually doesn't butt in and say things but he was about to give the guy a mouthful. What a crappy hiking buddy he is.

My hiking buddy is way cooler than the other guy!

We were advised that the top of the pass, only 3.5 mi in, had the best camping spots. So we stopped for the night. We set up camp and explored a little more. We had dinner overlooking Raven Glacier. Our tent had a stunning view. As the evening sun ducked behind the mountains, we retreated to the tent for some reading before bed. Probably will be asleep by 9, and up at 6.