June 17, 2009

It is hard to believe that had the volcano not gone off, we would have been skiing just a couple weekends ago. Instead we seem well into summer mode. The sun has now travelled into the perfect position so that it is shining right in my eyes when I go to bed around 11:00. The weather has continued to be nice, although at times downright hot. We have now had far more 70 degree days than all of last summer and technically summer hasn’t even started yet. The clouds have become more prevalent in the last couple weeks. We haven’t really seen the volcano in quite awhile, but long distance visibility is not really a common characteristic of summer weather up here.

This past weekend was a continuation of our summer mode. We headed down to the Kenai National Wildlife Refuge again. We arrived Saturday morning and looked for a campsite. We decided to take a lakefront walk-in tent site at the Upper Skilak campground. We set up our tent and hauled a few loads from the car. We sat on the gravel beach and ate our lunch. Our plan was to kayak Upper Ohmer Lake, but we sat there staring at the big lake with its mirror smooth surface. I suggested that we weren’t ever going to be able to count on Skilak Lake being so calm and that maybe we should explore it a little. Kris reminded me of the lake’s reputation and I suggested that we head down the shallow shoreline toward the outlet so that we could always walk home.

We dropped the boats at the boat launch, got organized, parked the car, and headed out. A few other people were playing around in kayaks near the boat launch. Kris commented that the other boats made her feel more comfortable.

The shore was fascinating. The water had amazing clarity. The bottom was smooth and gravelly for a short distance out. Then a line of large rocks marked a dropoff. Many of the large rocks stuck out of the water. Many rose to within inches of the surface, some shallow enough to scrape the bottoms of our boats. Beyond the large rocks, the water got deep. The bottom was still visible, but only because the water was so clear. Floating in a kayak on such clear water creates a strange uneasy sense, like a fear of heights.

As we progressed down the shoreline, we began to realize that the water level was much higher than it was a year ago when we visited the same place. I remembered standing on many of the large rocks with my fly rod. Last year, we were able to walk on a wide gravel beach for a long distance. Now the beach narrowed and even disappeared into the grass.

I began to wonder if the safe shallow route was actually a hazard. The narrow stretch inside the big rocks was barely deep enough to float our boats. I began to imagine what it would look like with big waves. The zone of big rocks was navigable when the smooth surface provided a looking glass to the rocks just below the surface. I began to imagine the surprises that could be hidden by a rough surface. Making matters more concerning was the variability of this band of rocks. While it was generally a visible and narrow band, in some places the big rocks went right to the shore line. In other locations, the band widened outward. I began to realize that navigating inside or near the band of rocks in rough water might present some hazard. Navigating outside the band would add the hazard of deep water. In spite of the hazards, the beautiful smooth water, playful ducks and loons, and our sense of exploration invited us three miles down the remote shoreline.

A light breeze was starting to kick up when we made the decision to turn back. I suggested that we take a break in a pleasant cove on our return. We beached and enjoyed the opportunity to stretch our legs. The wind was picking up and a few rain clouds were appearing in the distance. I suggested we take a pretty short break. As we headed out the cove, the big lake began to live up to its reputation. A stiff headwind generated some waves that sprayed when they slapped our kayaks. As we exited the cove, the wind became a cross wind in the worst possible direction, directly onshore. The waves were building with every passing minute. Now we were attempting to navigate the rock band in challenging conditions.

Decision making is the ultimate challenge in the wilderness. Most bad situations result from poor decision making. People don’t recognize when they are in trouble. We were in one of those classic situations, gradually worsening conditions. The conversation with myself began. How would I know when the conditions were too bad to continue? How would I make sure that I decided to take shelter before the conditions forced such a choice? I solicited input from Kris. “How are you doing? What do you think?” Of course motivation plays a part. I didn’t want to spend the night a couple miles down the shore or leave my kayak out there. I wasn’t sure that the narrow beach was going to provide an easy hike back, anyway.

Oddly, the boat felt so stable that I was actually beginning to enjoy myself in the waves. What I didn’t enjoy was the rocks. I banged on a surprise when a trough dropped me down. It wasn’t a bad impact, but it was enough for me to know I didn’t want to do too much of that. For the most part, the rocks were pretty visible. A couple of places forced the difficult decision of navigating out around the rocks through the deep water. As I headed back in toward shore, I found the joy of surfing some of the bigger waves. I even began humming the theme from Hawaii Five O. Kris apparently didn’t watch that one as a kid. I was having fun, but was keenly aware of the decisions I was making.

The waves weren’t actually all that big, no more than a couple feet, but that made them considerably taller than our boats. Naturally the wind began to die down as we approached our campsite. This eliminated the nastier chop and the waves took on more of a roll. It was a good learning experience, although I can only hope that I would have recognized the moment that conditions that were too risky to continue, conditions where spending a night outdoors might be the smart choice.

We relaxed for an hour before hauling the rest of the camping gear down to the campsite so that we could cook dinner. We took a short hike around the campground after dinner, but ran into a dead end along the beach in the other direction. The water was like glass again so I suggested an evening float. We headed toward the deep water cliffs a short distance away. It was an amazing adventure. The towering mountains rose out of the water abruptly in places. Huge rocks displayed their tops at or above the surface while their bottoms disappeared into the depths below. Various birds nested on the cliffs. The water remained calm except for a few wakes from passing motorboats.

We confirmed that most of our challenge with overnight coldness in our large tent was our air mattress. We took our old sleeping pad that we bought for the small tent instead of the queen air mattress on this trip. The foam pad was both comfortable and warm. I was even hot at times. The temperatures weren’t that cold, but the difference in comfort was pretty convincing. The air mattress is hard to give up since it is so large and takes so little space in the car, but clearly we either need insulation on the air mattress or we need to use a foam pad.

We planned to hike on Sunday, but debated our kayaking options as well. We decided to do both. We got a brief float moving our kayaks from the campsite back to the boat launch. Hauling all the camping gear up to the car was exhausting enough. We decided we could haul some of the smaller items right to the car in the kayaks and avoid carrying the boats up the hill. After packing up we headed to the trailhead at Engineer Lake. We hiked a few miles back to Hikers Lake and had a pleasant lunch in spite of the bugs and a little light rain. The trail was a little monotonous, hiking through the primarily spruce forest with little evidence of wildlife. We did see some fresh bear prints, but the only signs of moose were some old droppings and a pile of bones on the shore of Hiker’s Lake.

After a quick six mile hike, we launched the boats in Engineer Lake and explored the part of the perimeter that we hadn’t just hiked. This took us along a shallow end of the lake and a swampy flatland that was a popular bird nesting area. Our first encounter was with a noisy yellowlegs that squawked at us before aggressively chasing off some terns and seagulls. This set up a chain reaction down the shore as the terns began defending their nesting grounds by attacking the seagulls and even taking a few scary passes at us. Grebes and plovers also emerged from the grassy swamp in this very birdy area.

Weekends have been taking a lot out of us. We are not getting in as much weekday activity as we would like. Kris usually gets to yoga once a week. I managed to ride my bike to work a couple times last week. Our careers haven’t helped. They have invaded our lives, rewarding us with the joys of contribution and success, and encouraging us to continue through the stressful times for the money. We keep joking that we need to do something different, but we have been here before. This time we know we have nothing to lose. We have no fear, just big egos. It is just a matter of time before we move on to another phase in life. We think that is a matter for next year.

I did get to see my first moose babies of the year along the bike trail last week. A momma with twins hung out in a small area tucked between Dowling Road and bend in Campbell Creek for about a day and a half.