September 30, 2009

After our mind bending experience of Katmai National Park with Jim and Joyce, the return to real life was somewhat a letdown.  The fall colors have peaked, another spectacular few weeks of bright yellows contrasting with the dark spruce trees in our salt and pepper forests.  With fall, comes darkness.  Passing equinox puts us behind the rest of the country in daylight with quickly shortening days.  The temperatures held out until last week when a blast of cold air painted the mountain tops in white, each day creeping lower and lower.  By this past weekend, the snow had fallen below 2000 feet. 

We have had a few minor adventures since our friends departed.  Last weekend we hiked to Rabbit Lake on a beautiful Saturday.  We had never been to Rabbit Lake so it was a new experience close to town.  It was a five mile hike up a valley to the lake which rests in an alpine environment.  The crystal clear water had me questioning the likelihood of catching any fish.  We worked our way around the lake to a steep shore line, hoping to find some deep water.  We had lunch before rigging up our fishing lines.  We cast into the clear water, trying to reach the drop-off where the bottom disappeared from view.  The water clarity was stunning.  Even with a heavy jig head helping my lure descend, I could still see the bright yellow tail for a surprising amount of time after the cast hit the water.  The depth was deceiving.  The visible rocky bottom was much further down than it looked, even near the shore. 

I saw a few fish disturbing the surface a little further down the shore and I contemplated climbing along the steep rocks to get closer.  Kris lost interest and sat down to read a book while I tried a little longer.  I watched my bright lure descending and it suddenly vanished.  I lifted my rod and felt a ping.  My lure reappeared.  I let it descend again and it vanished once again.  This time I lifted quickly and was greeted with a weight on the end of my line.  I yelled to Kris that I had a fish.  She asked how big and I estimated it at about a foot.  After reeling in quite a distance, I realized that my estimate was seriously skewed by the clear cold water.  The sluggish fish kept getting bigger as it got closer. 

Suddenly it got lively and tore line from my ultralight gear.  I battled the fish, hoping not to get spooled.  Another problem became quickly apparent.  Landing a nice fish on a steep rocky shore without a net was going to be a trick.  I began looking for a place where I could get down to the water’s edge.  My fishing spot was a rock that elevated me several feet above the water.  Now I had to climb a little while battling a fish.  As the fish tired, I arrived on a few rocks where I could balance and still reach down to the water.  The fish’s color was enhanced by the clarity of the water and beautiful weather as it came close.  I unhooked it and the eighteen inch rainbow forcefully swam away into the depths.

The hike was nice.  The colors were amazing and only a few people were taking on a ten mile hike that day.  We were mostly alone.  We saw a few moose along the way, although not as many as I hoped. 

This past weekend, we headed up to the powerlines to see if we could find any moose.  The temperatures were in the thirties and several inches of snow covered the ground.  We headed across the creek and began heading up Little O’Mally.  We saw a few moose in the distance, but didn’t have our first close encounter until about half way up.  It was exciting to hear the moose coming through the brush.  I began preparing to get some pictures.  Unfortunately, we were being followed by a clueless group of trail users.  Their dogs were roaming free, often venturing hundreds of yards from their owners.  Even more annoying, the dogs were outfitted with cowbells, perhaps to keep them from surprising the wildlife, but effectively only annoying other park users including the approaching bull moose.  The moose peaked out of the brush and then headed away without providing much of photo op.  The clueless people caught up to their dogs.  Since they caught up to us, we stepped off the trail to let them pass, figuring they were moving faster than us.  They moved 20 feet up the trail and stopped.  I waited a few minutes, organizing my gear and catching my breath, but they weren’t going anywhere.  I charged up the trail ahead of them only to have their stupid ringing dogs follow us.  When the mountain got steep and slippery, we decided to leave the trail to find a peaceful spot to have lunch and leave behind the annoying idiots who think everyone should be subjected to their pets.  I almost told them that the animals wouldn’t need annoying bells if they were on a leash, a legal requirement that I don’t normally care that much about.  I was quite annoyed.

We struggled through a patch of scrubby spruce trees before arriving at a clearing we had targeted for lunch.  We sat in the snow and crowberries.  The coldness was a refreshing sensation.  We ate quickly.  Then we began to descend.  Kris wanted to head back to the trail, but I saw a way down through the avalanche paths that would bring me in close proximity to several moose along the way.  We passed by several smaller bulls and cows laying low in the thick brush along the clearing.  We saw a big bull trotting down the mountain toward us, but it disappeared into the brush before getting close.  We saw an estimated 15 moose in our short but difficult three mile hike.  Our return to the parking lot was even blocked by a young moose and its mother casually grazing on the trail and refusing to move off the trail.  We found a way through the thick brush down to a lower trail as a bypass.

On Saturday, we attended the Octoberfest at Alyeska.  It was pleasant distraction, although Alaskan polka bands are almost as good as one would imagine, somehow lacking the lively rich sound of their Midwestern counterparts.

We have also managed to hike a little on the greenbelt.  It makes for a peaceful walk in the fall colors with an occasional moose.  A few colorful silver salmon are still hanging in the deeper pools of the creek.  We use these walks as an opportunity to analyze and plan.  We seem to be heading in a new direction.  Our plans seem to be incorporating all the ideas we have ever had into a new and seemingly logical concept.  We want to see the world.   We want to work.  We want recreation and leisure.  We want to learn.  We could use a little more money.  We want to live in an RV.  We want to spend more time in Alaska.  I think we have the plan.  If this keeps making sense, if this keeps coming together, next year will be interesting