July 9, 2009

I am sitting on the balcony at 9:45 just to try and cool down a little.  We have had a week of ridiculous temperatures, soaring into the seventies, perhaps breaking eighty.  I don’t know how people live like this.  The sun is reflecting off the window into my eyes, but it isn’t that bright because of all the smoke in the air.  Yes, hot weather brings forest fires, primarily lightning lit.  High pressure brings airflow from the north that brings smoke hundreds of miles into the Cook Inlet area where it reduces visibility, blocking out the mountains.  We saw much worse smoke the first summer we were here.  I can’t really even smell the smoke, but it is obvious when you look at the sky that something isn’t right.

We missed seeing a forest fire start by only a few minutes on Thursday.  The pilot of a small plane saw the fire and a couple of more lightning strikes on his way back from dropping us off in the wilderness.  The fire was already hundreds of acres when he brought us out two days later.  At least the winds have been pretty calm throughout the state or some of these fires would have really grown out of control.

In case you weren’t paying attention to the previous paragraph, we spent two nights deep in the wilderness of the largest national park, Wrangell St. Elias.  I had a four day weekend with my every other Friday and a holiday, so we drove to Chitina on Thursday morning.  We walked along the Copper River and watched the fish wheels trying to scoop salmon out of the flowing water while we waited for our plane.  The Chitina airport is really just a gravel parking lot next to a gravel airstrip that runs right along the Copper River.  Wrangell Mountain Air had about a dozen people to transport into McCarthy that afternoon and they brought three planes to get us all.  We got stuck in a tiny Cessna that had seating for three passengers, but one of our backpacks took up one of the seats.

It was a nice flight to McCarthy.  We flew there with Joyce and Jim in 1999 on our vacation and we drove there on the long dirt road last fall.  It was nice to recognize the scenery from above, at least for the first half of the trip.  Then the plane turned up a valley away from the road and took a more scenic route away from the Chitina and Nezina valleys and into the rugged Wrangell Mountains.  We hopped through Fourth of July Pass on the second of July and flew over the familiar glaciers and copper mines of Kennecott.  We even turned near the old Bonanza mine buildings decaying high on the barren mountainside high above where we hiked last fall.  As we landed in McCarthy, the wind was whipping around while small thunderstorms appeared along the mountain range.

We quickly transferred our gear from the small Cessna to a bigger one with large soft tires designed for landing on unimproved runways.  We filled out our release forms and left a change of clothes at the airport before heading out.  The release form asked such questions as the color of our tent and backpacks, the type and rating of our sleeping bags, and the number of days of food we had with us.  It was obvious why they asked these questions and we hoped they wouldn’t need to use any of this information.  It was another half hour flight across the wide valley and into the far reaches of the Chugach Range.  We made a left turn into a valley over the top of Tana Glacier.  The plane danced uncomfortably in the swirling winds of the deep valleys.  The pilot pointed out some of the landmarks as we flew up valley, turned, and prepared for landing.  It took me awhile to figure out where he was landing, a small elevated sandy area in the wide Granite Creek valley. 

We quickly hopped out and extracted our gear.  The pilot explained that it was possible for the weather in our valley to be nice while the weather in McCarthy was preventing flight.  We might not know if he wasn’t coming because of weather.  He also warned us that if the sand was blowing across the runway that he would turn around and leave.  After his comforting warnings, we quickly hauled our heavy packs off the sandy runway and the pilot launched the plane in short order.  We were alone in an unfamiliar place, 90 miles from the car according to the GPS.  A huge glacier blocked the exit of the valley.  We weren’t walking out.

We decided to head for the lake since we would need water.  We walked across the sandy valley floor for about a mile.  It was like walking on the beach, but the heavy pack made it harder work.  We arrived at the dry rocky creek bed that I saw from above and began climbing out of the valley.  A half mile up, we decided to try a short cut over a ridge to the lake.  We soon found ourselves in such thick brush that we couldn’t see more than a couple feet.  We tried to step on the vegetation to get over it and lift it up to get under it.  My arms and shins were soon bleeding from the effort.  We busted through to a clearing that climbed to the ridgeline.  Over the top of the ridge we were greeted with more brush, although we found a few routes through it that offered less resistance.

We arrived at the east end of Ross Green Lake.  We began looking for a campsite while small gnats swarmed us, harmlessly buzzing in our ears while the occasional mosquito bit us to complete the effect.  The lake was fed by several glaciers pouring off and between several majestic peaks towering between us and the massive Bagley Ice Field.  This made the lake rather silty, not the best thing for our water filter.  The view of the distant Tana Glacier was inviting, but less than perfect.  A high ridge was blocking much of the view.  It looked navigable so we decided to head to the other end of the lake to see if we could find an alternative source of water and a better campsite.  We climbed and busted through more brush.  We navigated around rocks and thickets.  Hiking without trails is considerably more difficult.  We were forced to take a route on the other side of the ridge from the lake and soon found ourselves overlooking the airstrip we had landed at.  We tried to navigate our way back toward the lake or toward its outlet, but ran into a challenge.   A steep rocky slope blocked us from going higher and the vegetation blocked us from going lower.  We decided to turn around.

I think it was one of those critical decisions you face in the wilderness.  We were motivated to find a more scenic campsite with better water, but we were already running out of water and it was getting late.  We knew there was water back at the lake.  It is frustrating to backtrack, but sometimes that is the smart choice.  We ended up on a nice point of land jutting out slightly into the lake.  The water wasn’t really bad enough to give our filter any problems, just not the best choice.  We filtered water, washed up a bit in the lake, set up the tent, and ate dinner.  It was after ten when we finally collapsed in our sleeping bags.

The next morning we packed up and headed off to find a better campsite and explore more of the valley.  We had better luck navigating around the thick brush as we returned to the rocky creek bed.  A rounded knoll invited us to check out the view.  We noticed some standing water upstream of the creek bed.  It was clear water, not full of glacial silt.  The knoll had a flat top and a beautiful view of the valley.  We decided it was our campsite, stashed our heavy packs and headed off for a day hike.

We picked our way through interesting challenges of brush and rocks and found a different route down to the sandy valley floor.  We hiked down to the creek which was really a rushing river of muddy glacial runoff.  We found a sandy stretch of the shore line with a small calm eddy and waded in about calf deep.  The icy cold was a pleasant contrast to the hot sun.  We were enjoying the ‘ice cream headaches’ in our feet.  We even kneeled down in the cold river to ice our knees.

We relaxed there by the river for awhile.  We even broke a few rules by discharging a firearm in a national park.  A large sandy embankment made a great backstop with instant feedback on our aim.  We hadn’t shot the gun in quite awhile.  I was quite pleased with the accuracy of the small weapon and both of our abilities to hit what we were aiming at.  I was surprised by the noise and the kick of the small gun.  It was more energy than I remembered, and we were shooting lighter loads than what I use for bear defense.

An approaching thunderstorm motivated us back.  We hiked about a mile on the sandy floor barefoot before climbing back up the creek bed to our new campsite.  We put on our rain gear as the wind kicked up and a few drops filled the air.  We sat down by our packs which were stashed by a large rock that turned out to be a perfect wind block.  I fell asleep while the storm fell apart, never really arriving at our location.  The wind and light rain provided temporary relief from the bugs.

We set up the tent and made dinner.  The bugs returned so Kris hid in the tent reading while I wandered about our high vantage point looking for animals.  I saw one mammal, a tiny pika sunning itself on a rock down below us.  We didn’t see much wildlife on the trip.  We saw bear prints and droppings.  We saw hoof prints.  We didn’t see any of the mountain goats that frequent the valley.  We did see a few ptarmigan.  In fact, a couple of them woke me up that second night with their odd clucks just outside our tent.

On the last day, we hauled our gear the couple miles back to the airstrip.  We were intent on exploring the valley in the other direction.  We dropped our heavy packs at the airstrip and continued down the valley to the west toward the big Tana Glacier.  We soon found an obstacle.  A creek that included the runoff from a glacier and the outlet of Ross Green Lake was blocking our progress.  We decided to attempt to cross.  The first few channels of the braided creek were easy, barely going above our boots.  Then we arrived at a larger channel.  We began crossing, gauging the water depth with our hiking sticks.  It began to get too deep as we approached the other side.  I decided to work my way upstream, poking at the water next to me, waiting for it to get shallower.  The water was icy cold and my legs were starting to scream in pain.  Finally the depth seemed low enough to take the last few steps across.  We danced around on the sunny gravel as we waited for the stinging coldness to leave our legs.

We were then able to walk another mile or so down the valley before coming upon the next glacial stream.  We explored the big valley, taking care as we approached the river’s edge where the water was undercutting tall embankments of sand and gravel.  We decided that our last exploration would be up the glacial stream.  As we began hiking upstream, I noticed something disturbing.  I was walking in a dry channel of the creek bed and noticed a stream of water working its way down my channel.  I called Kris over and she looked at the water and within a few seconds had the same realization that I had.  The glacial melt was increasing in the hot afternoon sun.  The creek levels were rising.  We had discussed this possibility before crossing the first stream, but felt that it was already late enough in the day to be at peak melt rates.  This situation caused us some concern.  We had to cross back over the other creek yet to get back to the airstrip.  We could potentially be stranded.  We quickly turned around and headed back.  The creek seemed reasonable when we got back to it and we were able to find some better crossing options for the return. 

We had time to kill so we relaxed along that creek in the bright sun while our boots and socks dried a bit.  Then we headed back to the airstrip and sat on the sandy bluff while we waited for our plane.  We watched as the river eroded its embankment across from us.  The embankment was quite tall, at least thirty feet.  The gravel and sand would occasionally let go in small avalanches.  As we watched, two major sections of the embankment dropped into the river.  These large piles of sand and rock blocked the edge of the river temporarily, but the river was winning, slowly washing these massive piles downstream.  I suggested to Kris that it was going to be embarrassing when someone asked her about what she did for the holiday.  “We sat around and watched erosion”, doesn’t sound as exciting as it actually was.

A bright orange DeHavilland Beaver soon arrived to pick us up and fly us back to McCarthy.  This larger plane was easier to load the gear in.  It is amazing how civilized McCarthy can seem after two nights in the middle of nowhere.  We checked into a hotel, got a shower, and went to a restaurant for dinner.  In the morning, we caught another flight back to our car in Chitina for the five hour drive home.  We did stop and take a couple of quick hikes in the Copper Valley on our way.

Our time in the wilderness was enriching.  I enjoy when I can not see another human for two full days.  Out there, we barely saw any evidence of other humans.  The lack of trails was educational.  I don’t always appreciate trails, but the efforts to navigate without them had a significant impact on our rate of progress.  We could not cover as much ground.  We weren’t scared out there, but the weather was so nice and the views were unbelievable that it was hard to be concerned for our safety.  I do think I was more cautious about risks such as trips and falls.  With no guarantee of quick help, I did think more about safety.