July 30, 2010

I get a little bit of butterflies in my stomach when I look at the date.  It is almost August.  It is almost time to leave.  I can’t think of much that I haven’t done or need to do before leaving; it just seems a little scary.  I know that nothing in Alaska seems like a new experience anymore, but I worry that the experiences ahead of us will not seem that different.  I also worry that the best of the lower 48 will seem like a light version of Alaska.  If both are true, it would be a mistake to leave because it can’t get any better than this.  These are the foolish worries that hold all of us back at times.

While we are avid wilderness adventurers, our new experiences in Alaska weren’t limited to these pursuits.  And since it is the wilderness adventures that do seem somewhat repetitive at times, I think we will be seeking new adventures, life adventures, and not just outdoorsy adventures.

Living in a trailer is a new adventure.  As we complete our first full calendar month of living full time in the trailer, we are still learning new things.  This new life adventure is going splendidly.  We are having fun getting more efficient at setting up and preparing for departure.  We are still tweaking things.  Yesterday I adjusted the load distribution bars on the hitch and we noticed an improvement in the ride quality (over our crappy roads).  We are still figuring out how to manage our tanks, but we have yet to be stranded without water or forced to use public facilities.  And I never thought I could put the awning up by myself until I watched Heidi’s dad put theirs up.  These learning experiences don’t sound that exciting, but the sense of accomplishment and gained knowledge is as rewarding as any in life.

Ahead of us lie unknown life adventures.  We know a few likely components like experiencing different cultures and learning new languages at an advanced age.  But even those lie primarily along the path that is our goal, which is not necessarily the path we will end up on.  We have talked about other learning experiences.  Oddly, we both thought ballroom dancing was something that could be an interesting activity in the future.  I have long held a goal of buying a trials bike for my 50^th birthday to see if an old person can learn any of the tricks that young people learn by fearlessly approaching the realm of foolishness; I know from skiing that old people’s fears typically hold them at a performance level well below safe for their skills.  I don’t know what adventures await us, but I am comfortable that we have embraced a philosophy to never stop learning and never stop exploring.

I think I need to explore more socially.  We are both clearly introverts, even though we have both excelled at playing the part of extroverts in our work settings.  We are often staying in our comfort zones by not striking up conversations with other campers.  We have met a few people along the way.  A couple of nights ago, we had a long conversation with a guy from Texas who had just retired from an oil company and was travelling around in his fancy rig, a brand new pickup towing a brand new Airstream.  Tonight, I had a brief conversation with a guy from Utah who just arrived in Alaska today, on his way to Eielson Air Force Base.  He and his family were quite the contrast to us, a large U-haul truck towing a packed car on a trailer with his wife driving another packed car with a large U-haul trailer behind it.  These brief encounters provide information about other people’s choices.  This information gives me glimpses of different possibilities, none of them right or wrong, just different.  These encounters are always educational.

 With all that said, we have continued in our outdoorsy adventuring ways and it is still quite good.  We left Tangle Lakes on the 27^th (I don’t even know what day of the week that was anymore).  We only drove a short ways, 20 miles back out the Denali and maybe 20 up the Richardson.  We set up at another free campground on Fielding Lake, getting a lovely site right along the slow moving creek at the outlet of the lake.

Our first adventure for the day was a drive up a rugged road until it began looking too rugged for the van.  Then we hiked a few miles back to Gulkana Glacier.  The weather was the same as it has been, lots of clouds, a little rain, and a few peaks of the sun.  We waited at the glacier as a patch of blue sky slowly headed over it, provided some better lighting.  The glacier was beautiful and fed into an immense valley of gravel.  I suspect it is a receding glacier as the gravel will slowly give way to vegetation.  The hike provided a terrifying challenge, a long suspension bridge over a fast moving stream.  Several planks on the bridge were broken.  Even I was very slow and deliberate going over and we had to go one at a time to prevent scaring each other with the movement of the bridge.

In the evening, I dropped my kayak into the creek next to the trailer.  Grayling were swirling in the creek and I knew that the lake had some lake trout as well.  It began to pour rain as I prepared to depart.  I knew it was just a passing shower as I could see it, and I could also see the sun shining brightly from just behind the mountain across the stream from us.  Pouring rain and bright sunshine mean rainbows, and this was about as intense a rainbow I have ever seen.  It was a complete double rainbow, appearing to arc from the ground on both sides.  I had no way of capturing the amazing view with my camera, the mountains, water, and rainbow.  It was simply too wide and the raindrops were starting to mess up my lens.  Regardless, I felt a surge of energy with such a scene that I quickly paddled up the creek to the lake while challenging my raingear to keep me reasonably dry.

I fished the lake near the outlet a little.  I knew the best fishing would have been at an inlet, but the lake was too big to kayak in an evening and I wouldn’t dare go that far alone.  Not finding any big fish in the deeper water near the outlet, I drifted into the creek with my fly rod.  I knew my dry fly did not look quite right, but it was what I had on and I didn’t feel like changing it.  I was messing around, trying to prepare the anchor to hold myself in the slow moving water when I noticed a swirl where my fly was just sitting.  I instinctively lifted the rod tip and began stripping line.  I could feel the fish and it was coming in quickly.  I assumed it was a small grayling since it was coming so easily.  What I was a little slow in recognizing was that the fish wasn’t small, it was just swimming somewhat toward me.  When it passed my position in the creek, I could feel that the tension was a little too tight and I began letting out line.  It quickly took all the line I had in my lap and I was on the reel.  Soon the reel was practically screaming, although I typically don’t use much drag, preferring to drag the reel with my hand to control a fish.  I still wasn’t even into the backing on my reel, but I panicked at the distance the fish was putting on.  I was still thinking small as well, so when I put a little more pressure on the ultrathin line, I was surprised when the fish didn’t turn and the line just popped.  I suspect it was just a grayling, but it was a lot bigger than I had initially assumed.

I fished the creek for awhile longer, but couldn’t find any more takers.  It was getting pretty late so I called it a night, unsuccessful at putting another meal in our currently fish-free refrigerator.  We ate the lake trout and it was very good.

The next day we headed north on the Richardson.  When we got back to Delta Junction, we stopped for all our services.  We filled up with potable water and propane, dumped our holding tanks, and stopped for groceries.  We had lunch at the drive-in, although a drive-in doesn’t work too well in a big rig so we just stood around waiting for our food.  We couldn’t get a good internet connection through the cell towers, so we parked at the library and used their wifi from the comfort of our trailer in their parking lot.  We finished the day by setting up camp at Quartz Lake and taking a couple mile hike around.  We found plentiful raspberries along the lake and ate as we walked.

Yesterday was a full day at the Quartz Lake area.  We started with a hike to the top of Bert Mountain.  It was a cool morning, but it was a sunny day for a change and we were soon hiking through the spruce forest in short sleeves, trying to move quickly enough to keep the mosquitoes off of us.  The hike was a little disappointing.  The scenery didn’t change much, spruce and birch, roses and cranberries.  Even the top of the mountain was still forest and the view was very limited.  It felt good, but it wasn’t the best hike we have ever taken.

We spent the afternoon exploring Lost Lake in the kayaks.  Quartz Lake has motorized boats and a shore that is lined with cabins so we chose the quieter, smaller lake.  I zigged and zagged along the perimeter, finding that over half the lake was only a foot or two deep.  I wondered why they stocked this lake since I couldn’t imagine too many fish surviving winters.  When we returned to the deepest portion of the lake, I tried another of my cheap dry flies that doesn’t look quite right.  I was surprised as fish after fish swirled at my fly, but never seemed to take the hook.  I figured it just looked wrong so I brought it in to change it.  That is when I noticed that the line was tangled around the hook making the fly completely backward.  The fish were grabbing the fly; I just couldn’t hook them that way.  I untangled the line and quickly hooked up with a nice small trout, almost worth keeping, but it would have required another to make a meal.  I wasn’t in the mood for cleaning small fish so I gently released it.

I threw my big heavy lure into the deepest water, mostly to gauge the depth, but hoping that one of these deeper holes had a few large fish.  The water didn’t seem to be more than 10 feet deep anywhere.  We finished the perimeter, enjoying the vitamin D surge from the sunny afternoon.

We used our folding chairs and our awning for the first real time in a long time.  It was such a nice day, probably over 70.  We sat outside for lunch and then again for a bit in the evening.

Today we headed down the last remaining section of the Alaska Highway that we have not driven, the section between Delta Junction and Tok.  We hadn’t put it in our plans because we couldn’t identify anything along the road that we wanted to see.  As this loop around the interior worked out, we had some time to kill and so we changed our plan.  We are glad we did.  The road was pretty decent.  On a map, it looked like it would be boring, flat and straight, but the Alaska Range stayed in view the whole way and the nice road made 65 feel comfortable.  I was glad to have a positive experience at 65 as it gives me hope for being able to move along at a safe speed in the Lower 48.  The road did begin to deteriorate as we entered some rolling hills with some obvious sections of permafrost providing some bouncing around.

We arrived at Moon Lake before lunch and picked out a campsite.  The campground was empty, but our choices were somewhat limited since all the lakefront campsites were flooded.  Even the driveway had some water on it in places but the high water mark didn’t make it across the road anywhere.  This part of Alaska had some major flooding earlier this summer.  Upstream from here, roads washed out and a person is still missing.  We were a little concerned about the high water, but we figured the worst is long over.

We were alone at the campground and decided to take advantage of the empty lake in the afternoon.  A sign indicates that this is a popular motor boating lake, but we are still a bit confused as to what that really means.  I think it is a warning not to be surprised if someone shows up with a motorboat and makes a wake, which did happen this evening.

We enjoyed a sunny afternoon all alone on a mirror surfaced lake.  The topographic map that I have shows that the lake is connected to the Tanana River by wetlands.  Since the lake level is up at least a couple feet, the wetland is more of a flooded grassland.  We were able to paddle well beyond the limits of the lake, deep into the marshlands currently flooded.  I was hoping to see some big swirls as the upper Tanana is northern pike water and this lake connected by wetlands seemed like a perfect pike setting.  I saw tons of baitfish in the shallows.  I threw a spinner here and there, but I wasn’t seeing any evidence of larger fish.

We did see some wildlife.  We saw four moose, three cows and one baby.  I was able to move in on one skittish cow who was feeding in the marsh by paddling when her head was down and remaining motionless when she picked up.  She kept looking at me, but then put her head back under water, allowing me to move another ten feet or so each time.  I didn’t get close enough to get any good pictures as the flat angle, tall grass, and moose in to her shoulder didn’t provide much of a view.  I did get close enough to hear her crunching and splashing.  They are massive animals. 

The last moose seemed undisturbed by our presence and we paddled pretty close to her.  She was feeding in the shadows.  We watched as she seemed to move rather clumsily, but then realized that something was wrong with her right rear leg.  She probably won’t survive long that way.

While paddling deep in the flooded marsh, almost back to the river, we began to notice a little bit of flow in a channel.  As we drifted slowly down the channel, we heard a rustling along the shore.  Then we heard an odd snorting sound.  Suddenly two heads appeared, swimming across the channel ahead of us.  Our first thought was beaver, but when one tail came out of the water, it was clear that they were river otters.  They lifted their heads high out of the water to look at us, and continued snorting as they quickly swam into the flooded spruce forest to get away from us.  It was a great wildlife encounter, even if I didn’t get a single picture.

The water level was clearly dropping while we were back there.  We hadn’t been through any really shallow water, but we figured we better get back.  We contemplated continuing around to the other end of the lake where another wetland showed on the map, but decided to leave that for the evening.  Our evening paddle wasn’t nearly as interesting as the wetland dead ended quickly and the noise from other campers and a jet ski disturbed the incredible setting a bit.  This lake was an unexpected adventure on a part of the road system we didn’t think we were going to visit.  Sometimes a change of plans and low expectations are a good thing.