Jobs? Nah, not yet!

Looking down on Williwaw lakes from the 'Ball Field' behind Little O'Malley ridge.

Most of you probably think that Tim and I are busy looking for jobs. Well, we're not, at least not quite yet. Soon the real world will catch up with us, but for now we are busy enjoying Alaska. We have discovered that there is actually some rock climbing around here, which is a huge relief to us. Tim has also been busy helping my grandfather move piles of dirt, while my grandfather is chopping wood like a madman and I put in a new garden. And of course, we are going on lots of hikes in the Chugach range behind Anchorage. It is absolutely amazing to have the wilderness so close outside the door.

On one recent evening hike with Tim, we managed to lose the trail in a swamp and began following moose trails. These got worse and worse as they wound through the dwarf Juniper and eventually disappeared. By the time we realized that we had lost the main trail and that fighting through the thick brush and trees really sucked, we decided it was too late to go back. Instead, we fought our way as straight up as possible, knowing we would get above tree line soon. We ended up literally crawling through the junipers on our hands and knees, with the trees scraping our backs and getting stuck in our hair and clothing. Finally we made it above tree line and saw what we had to hike through next; shin deep mud and wobbly swamp tussocks. It looked wonderful, compared to the trees we had just struggled through. We saw two bull moose, but no bears, although we saw plenty of bear scat. So much excitement for a little evening jaunt! A few hours later, we were back in our little straw bale and log cabin with a fire in the wood stove.



A young bull moose stops grazing to check us out.



Looking back at Williwaw lakes after we drop down from Little O'Malley ridge and the Ball Field and head out through the valley, where we ended up just a bit off track.



Tim works on a bit of Alaska rock

Ugly Feet

Of the racers that started the Alaska Mountain Wilderness Classic, more than half scratched. And the ones that finished sure had ugly feet! Big blisters, swollen ankles, and black toenails ugly. One guy says that his toenails fall off every year, and grow back just in time for the following years race, where they fall off all over again.

Traversing over mountains, through thick, bear infested brush and swamplands, and running wild rivers, it took the winning guys just under five days to reach Central, after which they collapsed into beds and sleeping bags. By evening, everyone was up and enjoying a beer around the fire on the second longest day of the year. The fire wasn't for the cold, it was to keep at bay the swarms of buzzing, biting mosquitoes that thickly populate the interior. The sun had barely set, and without any real darkness, was rising again when another racer came in at 4:00 AM. After about five and a half days on the go, with 7 hours total of sleep, he was hallucinating wildly. Trees became dancing Tinkerbells, witches on broomsticks, Tin men, potato heads, and prostitutes, rocks became princess jewelry, scrimshaw, and Mosaic tile work, and coals in the fire were squirrels wearing Russian hats.

My grandfather, at 80 years old, was doing the race under the newly created masters division, which basically means that if you are that old and still doing the AMWC (he has participated in over 20 of the races) you don't have to follow the same rules as the other guys! So he and his friend Jerry floated the whole thing, down the 40 mile and the Yukon rivers. They had to be alert on the 40 mile, as there were several rapids and even a few pour offs that needed to be portaged. Then, when they hit the Yukon, they pulled out into the middle of the smooth flowing river and slept! By this time, after having to be alert in a tiny, leaky, five pound rubber raft for 12 hours a day, they needed the sleep.

It will be my grandfathers last wilderness race, and running most of it in the pack raft that he introduced to the race over 25 years ago is a fitting end. That year, no one had heard of these rafts and had planned on swimming the big rivers. One person had almost drowned trying when this old white haired man came up, dropped his pack, pulled out his hidden rubber raft, duck taped some plastic paddles to what looked like a walking stick, put on a viking hat, and announced "old age and treachery overcome youth and skill any time!"

Ugly Feet!



More Ugly Feet!



Rolling mountains in the interior.



Sitting around the fire at 2:21 AM. This is about as dark as it got.



One of the racers comes in at 3:39 AM. Notice the sunrise just hitting the treetops.

Mountain races

My uncle, at 50 years old, placed 4th overall in the Bird Ridge Mountain Run today. This race covers only three miles, but 3400 feet of brutally steep elevation gain. The Males Division winning time was just over 40 minutes to climb the peak. Barney clocked in at just over 42 minutes, and set a new time record for the 50 to 60 year old age group. Tim and I made it only half way up in about 50 minutes, before we moved to the side of the trail to make room for the runners who would soon be coming up. Soon, they appeared, steaming up the hill, breathing heavily, fine tuned bodies working, pain showing in their faces.

Meanwhile, while I was cheering Barney on, my grandfather, at 80 years old, started the Alaska Mountain Wilderness Classic today, a race crossing through 180 miles of Alaskan wilderness between two small towns; this years route goes from Chicken to Central. There are no established trails through this rugged wilderness and the rules are simple: Get from point A to point B, across mountain ranges, swamps, and big rivers, completely unsupported and self-sufficient, no gear drops, no roads, no checkpoints, and practicing minimum impact travel. The disclosure form is equally simple and a bit humorous. It reads:

"As usual, the Alaska Mountain Wilderness Classic has no money, no assets, and no insurance. The AMWC is merely suggesting an event location."

The location of the race changes every three years, ranging from 150 to 200 miles cross-country. Many of the years have seen winners making it to the finish in two days or less by barely sleeping and eating mostly butter. Yuk! In a few days, I will head to Central to see the racers into the finish.

I prefer Barney’s type of race, lots of pain over a short time period, rather then lots of pain over a long time period. That is, if you don't count all the training to be done before hand! Next year, I would like to run the Bird Ridge race, and a few other mountain runs, which means getting back in shape and starting to train by running up mountains. I'll let you know how it goes!

Barney, working hard to get to the top





What a view. Most of the racers were probably working too hard to notice it, though!



Meanwhile, here is the Alaska Mountain Wilderness Classic Route shown in the next two photos.



Choose any way you want to get from point A to point B (as long as it does not involve roads or motorized transport)



My grandfather and his race partner this year, Jerry Dixon

Arrival!

Alaskan swamp spruce under a gathering storm



After seven long days of driving, we arrived at my grandfathers in Anchorage. Tim has never been to Alaska this close to summer solstice, and he is having lots of trouble sleeping! The sun goes down around midnight for about four hours, but it's never far below the horizon and is always somewhat light. I love it. For me the midnight sun is what summer is all about.

Our first two days living in Alaska together were cold and rainy. Finally, last night the sun came out at about 10:00PM, bright and shiny, sending rays slashing in through the windows. As the grey darkness melted away, it felt like morning. Time for bed?? No way!

Sunlight shining through the trees at 10:00 PM

Photos from the Drive

Glacier National Park in Montana



A really dorky self portrait of us!



Glacier National Park in Canada



Hey, that creek was named after me!



The endless forests of Yukon territory and South Central Alaska.

The Long Drive

After flying from Ecuador to AZ, we are about half way on our 4000 mile drive from Phoenix to Anchorage, AK. We are starting to get used to how things work in North America, but I still have problems with simple things, like remembering that I can eat the raw vegetables, brush my teeth in the sink, and throw my toilet paper in the toilet instead of the trash. And I have some difficulties with bigger things, like how to speak the English language after hearing it rarely for over one year, and occasionally even what side of the road to drive on.

One thing that has really surprised me about the States is how many box stores there are. It seems like an explosion of architecturally uninteresting boxes of all sizes has sprouted up everywhere. Yuk! I also really liked the crazy markets overseas and find it sad that shopping in the States is so sterile.

Overall, we are pretty happy to be home, though. Traveling for 15 months is an amazing experience, but is perhaps just a bit too long. We miss the simple conveniences of the States. And after sleeping in over 300 different beds, it's going to be really nice to have a place we can call our own for a while!

No, We Don't Live in Igloos

I think Alaska must be pretty foreign to some people. I get a lot of questions such as "Do you eat a lot of fat?", "How do you handle 24 hour darkness?", and the best question of all "Do you live in igloos?". I will try to answer these and other good Alaska questions the best I can.

First of all, we shop for groceries at Safeway, Costco, Natural Pantry, and other similar grocery stores. Yes, we do have most of the same foods that are available Outside. (For a detailed explanation of the term Outside, see my previous post) Plus we almost always have that great Alaskan salmon that Outsiders beg us to bring them.

Now, about that 24 hour darkness. Well, Alaska is a big state that stretches across many latitudes. You will have to ask someone from Barrow or Kaktovik how they deal with the darkness. I don't know. Where I live, we get about 5 hours of daylight on the shortest day of the year. And on December 22ND, we start gaining five minutes of daylight per day. Before long, we have lots more light than you Southerners. In fact, one of the things I missed the most during my Southern stint was the summer midnight sun. So, I ask the same question of you "How do you handle the darkness?". I mean really, it gets dark at 9:00 PM instead of 2:00 AM.

Now to answer the question about our humble homes. Are they made of snow and ice? Well, if they were, they would melt in the summer! No, most homes in Alaska are typical stick frame construction. Granted, we sometimes use glazed double pane windows and 2X6 rather than 2X4 construction so we can stuff in extra insulation. With such long cold winters, energy efficiency is important.

All that being said, for a little while Tim and I will have a somewhat atypical living situation, for the city of Anchorage anyhow. Nearly 30 years ago my grandfather built a one room + loft log cabin on the land behind his house for my mother and I to live in. I grew up hauling water and wood for the two wood burning stoves-one for heat and the other for cooking. Going to the bathroom then was kind of like it is in India; As you like. Later a large deck, lean to closet shed, and an outhouse was added. Finally, much later, two straw bale rooms, a grey water drain field, simple plumbing, and a hot shower were added. But the outhouse remains. And I can positively guarantee you that there is no snow and ice included anywhere in the construction.

Outside?

Some common nicknames for Alaska are "The Great Land", "The Last Frontier", "The Last Great Wilderness". I would say that Alaskans are Nationalistic, but this is not quite the right word. They are very independent and patriotic, but it is not necessarily the United states they are so patriotic about; it is Alaska itself. Traveling, I always knew another Alaskan, because, like me, when asked where they are from, they never say "the USA". No, they are from "Alaska". Even if they haven't lived there for twenty years.

To an Alaskan, Alaska is the center of the universe, and everything else is 'Outside'. I mean, who else in the world calls everywhere besides the place they live 'Outside'? As in "I'm going Outside to visit my parents" or "I have to go Outside for work". Outside being anywhere from India to New York, from London to LA. I never realized how funny this sounded until I used the term Outside in Colorado, to describe Colorado, to a Coloradan.

To most Alaskans, I have spent the last five years Outside. So I am fully expecting that when I return, even though I have spent the last 15 months, well five years really, enjoying one adventure after another, most 'good' Alaskans will say " Oh, you've spent the last five years Outside? I bet your glad to be back".

And I will be.

Leaving Alaska

In January of 2003, I decided I had enough of Alaska. After a little preparation, I jumped in my car and began to drive. I was pretty naive about the world at this point; I thought that everywhere on earth was the same great wilderness as Alaska, just warmer! And warmer sounded good to me. So you can imagine my surprise when I began driving through National Forests without trees, across countless dammed rivers, and along endless suburbia that eventually gave way to agricultural fields or grazing land.

About six months later I drove through Boulder, Colorado, and decided to make it my new home. The foothills were close by, and I was told there was over 300 days of sunshine. At first I loved Colorado and its 60 degree winter days. That was before my first 100+ degree summer, where I layed panting in front of the air conditioner most of the time. And before I realized that the traffic snarled exodus to the mountains could take 2 to 4 hours. I finished my degree and met my husband in Colorado, but the longer I stayed, the more my heart was back in Alaska.

So, we came up with a plan. My husband ( an Ohio boy) and I would move back to Alaska. But first, since we were quiting our jobs anyhow, we would travel the world. After an amazing 15 months, we now have only one week to go before we fly back to the United States, pick up some stuff in CO, and drive the 4000 or so miles back to Alaska. One adventure is ending, but a new one is beginning. Although we will be returning to familiar ground, it will be with a new outlook and the way we see things will be different; reintegrating into life in the United States, and Alaska in particular, should be interesting and exciting.


No, it's not Alaska! It is the Santa Cruz trek in Peru. As I am currently in South America, the Alaska photos will have to wait until I get home.