Saying Goodbye to the North AKA AK Part 8

The sun started to set in late July, and come August, night was present for a good part of the day.  It was almost a return to normalcy.  Returning night meant it was time to retreat, to leave Alaska and Denali for the tougher souls.

Rafters on the Nenana, how many times did I do it? :)

Captain and I had been trying valiantly to get on the free small plane ride for months now, and we realized time was growing short.  Finally Captain managed to get us on a flight that flew over Denali.  As we got on the bus to catch the plane, I got a phone call from my dad.  He told me that my aunt died earlier that morning.  While my aunt had leukemia, she had recovered magnificently after an operation involving my mom's donated bone marrow.  She looked good when I last saw her.  I had news that her blood cell count had dropped a little, but to hear that she was dead was shocking and completely unexpected.  I was crying the whole bus ride to the plane.  I wiped my tears enough to get the required sunglasses on, and we got on the tiny plane with 6 other people.   We flew up and had to put on oxygen maskes at 12,000 feet, seeing the tundra that had previously been green and now was a fiery red and yellow.

Fall colors

Denali peaking her crown through the clouds.

Wickersham Wall of the North Face: a 14,000 foot drop, it gives Denali the highest vertical rise of any mountain in the world!

Denali: the South Summit is closest to the plane.  The crust of snow on the top is over 100 feet thick.

The glacier we hiked to the previous week, a view from above.

The bend in the Nenana, our home of Summer '10.

As we flew over Denali, the wind was nonexistent, allowing us to pass tremendously close over the mountain.  The sheer beauty of it reminded me of my aunt and I knew that she now did not have to suffer the horrendous effects of chemo or suffer pain anymore.  She was now part of the earth and air, and was part of all the elements that I was allowed to experience.  What tremendous beauty that calm day instilled in my heart.  The icy crown of Denali looked so strong and unconquerable, it seemed to me to breathe serenity, calm, and acceptance.  Strong and beautiful, like my aunt.  Wag more, bark less...

Steve and Captain, after their leisurely trek.

Our friend came to visit us, and Captain and him took a nice long boat ride down  from the glacier in a easy trip (NOT), please ask them for their account.  While he visited, I showed him a beautiful series of waterfalls that were close by our cabin, that Captain had not seen either.  I believe it is called Angel Falls, but I am not certain.

Steve and Captain, coming down after me at Angel Falls

We left Denali with great memories and new friends and headed south to the Kenai peninsula, where we planned on exploring a tiny piece of the Chugach State Park.  Down the Sterling Highway (RT 1), we passed into Cooper Landing, where we saw some straggling fishermen hunting the tired salmon.  We loaded up and headed into the park.  We hiked north towards Trout Lake in the valley of Juneau creek (nowhere near Junea, AK).  We only had one night in the wilderness, and were decided to make the best of it.  For once, nothing went wrong.  It rained a little, but it didn't last long and the weather wasn't too cold or too hot.  We followed Juneau Creek up to the Falls, which were fantastic, but extremely difficult to get good pictures.  We saw no one on the trail, and the silence of the tall trees relaxed me into a beautiful feeling that was full of longing, regret and thankfulness.  Leaving is such sweet sorrow.

Juneau Creek Falls

There weren't too many animals about, we only saw a bunch of ptarmigan or grouse (somesuch) and other various birds.  When we got to Trout Lake, we saw a nice neat little cabin, but it was under construction.  However, we did take the canoe out and Captain practiced his fishing...badly.  :)  He has no luck whenever I'm there apparently.  I could see all the fish, but they didn't seem to like Captain's bait.  It was a beautiful moment on that canoe, complete silence except for the occasional slap of water on the canoe and even that was rare.  Enough blue in the sky to patch your jeans with.  Green, yellow and red hills.  The call of birds and even a loon.  The smell of freshness and pine and water.  Thinking about it makes me long for last summer.

Some ptarmigan and beautiful late flowers.

Trout Lake, full of trout, none biting.

The cabin is on the far right.

The Unsuccessful Fisherman, Captain of the Canoe

Alaska the beautiful!

Well, it started getting dark and we felt the tinge of cold which stirred thoughts of fire and food.  We didn't stay in the cabin because I had a feeling that whoever was fixing it would be by in the morning, and we stayed in a beautiful glade that was surrounded by green decidous trees (if you stay all summer in the tundra and taiga forest, you appreciate any tree that isn't a spruce or aspen).  I tended the fire and we had our usual feast.  I was very proud of my fire skills and stayed that last night in the wild playing with that beautiful fire.  We didn't go many miles that trip, not even 10, I think.  It was relaxing and fun, and exactly what I had been expecting from all the hikes in Denali only to find the opposite.  It was about time that we got a nice outing.

Our camping spot

The Matanuska Glacier: Dangerously accessible.

We hiked out, meeting huge amounts of people on the trail, including people with horses and dogs!  I was very excited by that.  We got out and drove White Fang north towards the Matanuska Glacier, which was off of the Glen Highway.  We spent the night in the car, and at daybreak headed to the Ice Climbing Company there.  There we met Richard Fox, a professional ice climber from New Zealand.  He showed us how to put on the gear (crampons, gaiters, etc) and told us the many dangers of the ice.  We walked slowly over the ice in our crampons, observing the human size holes in the ice that people routinely fall into, get stuck and drown in.  I was very nervous of these holes.

We started on an easy slope, and though I slipped a couple times, I was on belay the whole time and not too worried, except about how few pictures Captain was taking of me while I was climbing. :)  I took too many of him!  After the first few rounds on the easy ice, Mr. Fox took us to where the glacier hit its breaking off point.  Sheer cliffs of ice stuck up towards the ice, the bottom of the chasms invisible and rarely, if ever, investigated.  Captain went first and he looked small against the backdrop of blue ice.  Then it was my turn.  Mr. Fox insured that I was on belay and then I leaned back into the yawning maw of ice.  I was lowered down and down, and I admit I was scared.  The kind of scared where you know if it takes control, you won't be able to get back on your own power.  I swallowed it, quickly glanced down and kicked in my feet.  Then, one ice ax hit at a time, I ascended back into the blinding light from whence I came.  It didn't take too long, Mr. Fox could tell I was pretty nervous and didn't want to go to far down. 

 After saying our goodbyes, we piled back into White Fang, and drove for Anchorage.  We ate one last meal at Moose's Tooth (Best Pizza Place Ever!)  and then I got to the airport and cried as I flew into the clouds.

A brief note:  Later that day I attended my aunt's funeral, which was the most beautiful ceremony I have ever experienced.  Helene, may you rest in peace.  You are missed.

Captain and White Fang