Despite everything,
Sep. 12th, 2003 07:28 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
camwynstill haven't been eaten.
Yeah, ,bear bell, not barbell. Today I took my second trip into Denali National Park. The morning was occupied by the Tundra Wildlife Tour, which was meant to take us all out to mile marker 40 or so on the Park road - a journey out and back of about five hours, since the buses stop for wildlife sightings. Unfortunately, it started snowing when we got up past about 2500 feet elevation, and since part of our trip took us over Polychrome Pass (3,640 feet if the guy in the bus' gadget was right), the park rangers closed the road at mile marker 30 - Teklanika Rest Stop and Scary Bathrooms. Look, any bathroom, no matter how clean, is scary if it's Alaska and it's snowing and there is NO HEAT and there is a sign saying 'please flush both BEFORE and AFTER to maintain hygiene, the foot pedal to your left should do it, thank you'... frankly a hole in the ground and 'squat here' marks would have been less scary, because it would not look like an UNHEATED AIRLINE TOILET IN THE MIDDLE OF ALASKA. I had visions of sticking.
Anyway, ,we saw caribou and a couple of moose - one big bull, one young fella - so that was all right. I'd seen my bears yesterday and hadn't expected to see wolves or Dall sheep; the sheep live up high and the wolves are easily spooked anyway. So. We got back to the visitor center around 12 noon, having eaten box lunches and had hot cocoa from water in the back of the bus. My shuttle didn't come until 5:30, so I had some time to kill. There are trails near the entrance of Denali - nowhere else - so I figured I'd give the longest/ slowest/ toughest one, Mount Healey, a go. I had maps of all the trails, and a book describing in great detail what to expect from each trail, so I pulled on my hat, warmed up my camera, and got out my bear bell.
A bear bell costs about $1.50 at the Denali visitor center gift shop. It's a jingle bell, about the size they use on Christmas crap, on a very short leather thong or wristlet. The idea is to wear it on your person so that every time you move, it jingles. Normally I wouldn't dream of using a device like a bear bell. When I'm in New Jersey, I pride myself on being able to move quietly through the woods and somewhat less quietly through the Great Swamp. NOt silently - I would never entertain that delusion - but at least quietly. Occasionally I surprise small animals, even the occasional white-tailed deer; this makes me happy, because it means that I do not give off Danger Danger Danger vibes if I am being careful about it. It's not exactly being at one with nature or at peace with the world, but it feels like a step in the right direction - respecting a place that does not really belong to human beings.
The problem with such a philosophy in Denali is that here, if you try to blend into the ecosystem, the ecosystem takes you up on it. If you pass silently through the woods you are passing silently through an area where the two largest creatures have VERY BAD eyesight, reasonable senses of smell, and decent hearing. The bears are not likely to try and eat you; they have many, many alternatives, and humans are not as tasty as we like to think we are. But they don't like being surprised, and an animal that doesn't like being surprised usually does what a human does when unhappily surprised: it gets big and loud. And then it tries to scare the surprise away or hit it until it leaves. Bear = 500 - 700 lbs., human 165-170 lbs. Bear gots claws, too. Not good. As for the other big'un, that's the moose. Crappy eyesight and a herbivore's response to danger: trample it or kick it or run away from it, but if it gets between you and your calf, STOMP IT GOOD. If it gets betwee you and your harem - it's rutting season here- STOMP IT GOOD because it might want to run the girls off.
The Natives of Alaska might be able to pass silently through the woods, or they might not. I've never seen one try, but I am going to assume that since an awful lot of them practice subsistence living up here, they can move silently in pursuit of dinner. That's fine. They can do that. They can participate in the ecosystem, because they bring along tools. Humans don't have claws, antlers, or 1500 lbs. body weight (that's the bull moose, folks). Humans have tools. If a human is going to slide into oneness with nature, that human has two possible roles: tool-using hunter, or Spam on two legs. The Natives here have rifles now. In the past they had spears, arrows, and the like. It means they can afford to be temporarily part of nature, because they are making up for the remarkable lack of natural armament and defense that everything else in the woods has. That's not an option that I have. I cannot be part of an ecosystem where things have pointy bits and aren't afraid to use them, because I haven't got pointy bits of my own. If I participate in the wilderness on its own terms I wind up a smear on the ground and in between some unhappy moose's toes. I can't go for oneness; I have to accept separation, at least a little bit, because the alternative is taking the chance of getting stompled on by half a ton of raging Alces alces hormones.
So when I went out on the trail today, I accepted that I would have to be at two with nature, and tied on the bear bell. It sounds unnatural in the woods; the animals hear it and know there's something around,a nd most of 'em just wander off rather than bother investigating. Lord knows I didn't see anything but birds and one red squirrel, fauna-wise.
I did manage up to about ... um. Path's end was at 3780 feet above sea level. I think I made it most of the way up, but there's this stretch near the end where the trail goes over a whoooole lotta rocky shelves. It was still snowing above 3000 feet, and, um, well... Going up could have been managed. But I remembered my climb of the bluff next to Granddad Bluff in Wisconsin, ,and had no real desire to deal with wet rock going DOWN. My explorer-hero has always been Ernest Shackleton; his men got back alive... I took some pictures including one probably crappy self-portrait (camera at arm's length) and made my way back down. It was an accomplishment even if I didn't get all the way up. Passed a LOT of people on the way back down; I don't think most of them got to the top either.
Tomorrow is horseback riding for two hours. I will probably do another trail or two while I wait for the bus to the ranch.
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batyatoon, I thought of you on the trip through Denali. We had to get through a place called Polychrome Pass. Daughter of the Rainbow, indeed...
Yeah, ,bear bell, not barbell. Today I took my second trip into Denali National Park. The morning was occupied by the Tundra Wildlife Tour, which was meant to take us all out to mile marker 40 or so on the Park road - a journey out and back of about five hours, since the buses stop for wildlife sightings. Unfortunately, it started snowing when we got up past about 2500 feet elevation, and since part of our trip took us over Polychrome Pass (3,640 feet if the guy in the bus' gadget was right), the park rangers closed the road at mile marker 30 - Teklanika Rest Stop and Scary Bathrooms. Look, any bathroom, no matter how clean, is scary if it's Alaska and it's snowing and there is NO HEAT and there is a sign saying 'please flush both BEFORE and AFTER to maintain hygiene, the foot pedal to your left should do it, thank you'... frankly a hole in the ground and 'squat here' marks would have been less scary, because it would not look like an UNHEATED AIRLINE TOILET IN THE MIDDLE OF ALASKA. I had visions of sticking.
Anyway, ,we saw caribou and a couple of moose - one big bull, one young fella - so that was all right. I'd seen my bears yesterday and hadn't expected to see wolves or Dall sheep; the sheep live up high and the wolves are easily spooked anyway. So. We got back to the visitor center around 12 noon, having eaten box lunches and had hot cocoa from water in the back of the bus. My shuttle didn't come until 5:30, so I had some time to kill. There are trails near the entrance of Denali - nowhere else - so I figured I'd give the longest/ slowest/ toughest one, Mount Healey, a go. I had maps of all the trails, and a book describing in great detail what to expect from each trail, so I pulled on my hat, warmed up my camera, and got out my bear bell.
A bear bell costs about $1.50 at the Denali visitor center gift shop. It's a jingle bell, about the size they use on Christmas crap, on a very short leather thong or wristlet. The idea is to wear it on your person so that every time you move, it jingles. Normally I wouldn't dream of using a device like a bear bell. When I'm in New Jersey, I pride myself on being able to move quietly through the woods and somewhat less quietly through the Great Swamp. NOt silently - I would never entertain that delusion - but at least quietly. Occasionally I surprise small animals, even the occasional white-tailed deer; this makes me happy, because it means that I do not give off Danger Danger Danger vibes if I am being careful about it. It's not exactly being at one with nature or at peace with the world, but it feels like a step in the right direction - respecting a place that does not really belong to human beings.
The problem with such a philosophy in Denali is that here, if you try to blend into the ecosystem, the ecosystem takes you up on it. If you pass silently through the woods you are passing silently through an area where the two largest creatures have VERY BAD eyesight, reasonable senses of smell, and decent hearing. The bears are not likely to try and eat you; they have many, many alternatives, and humans are not as tasty as we like to think we are. But they don't like being surprised, and an animal that doesn't like being surprised usually does what a human does when unhappily surprised: it gets big and loud. And then it tries to scare the surprise away or hit it until it leaves. Bear = 500 - 700 lbs., human 165-170 lbs. Bear gots claws, too. Not good. As for the other big'un, that's the moose. Crappy eyesight and a herbivore's response to danger: trample it or kick it or run away from it, but if it gets between you and your calf, STOMP IT GOOD. If it gets betwee you and your harem - it's rutting season here- STOMP IT GOOD because it might want to run the girls off.
The Natives of Alaska might be able to pass silently through the woods, or they might not. I've never seen one try, but I am going to assume that since an awful lot of them practice subsistence living up here, they can move silently in pursuit of dinner. That's fine. They can do that. They can participate in the ecosystem, because they bring along tools. Humans don't have claws, antlers, or 1500 lbs. body weight (that's the bull moose, folks). Humans have tools. If a human is going to slide into oneness with nature, that human has two possible roles: tool-using hunter, or Spam on two legs. The Natives here have rifles now. In the past they had spears, arrows, and the like. It means they can afford to be temporarily part of nature, because they are making up for the remarkable lack of natural armament and defense that everything else in the woods has. That's not an option that I have. I cannot be part of an ecosystem where things have pointy bits and aren't afraid to use them, because I haven't got pointy bits of my own. If I participate in the wilderness on its own terms I wind up a smear on the ground and in between some unhappy moose's toes. I can't go for oneness; I have to accept separation, at least a little bit, because the alternative is taking the chance of getting stompled on by half a ton of raging Alces alces hormones.
So when I went out on the trail today, I accepted that I would have to be at two with nature, and tied on the bear bell. It sounds unnatural in the woods; the animals hear it and know there's something around,a nd most of 'em just wander off rather than bother investigating. Lord knows I didn't see anything but birds and one red squirrel, fauna-wise.
I did manage up to about ... um. Path's end was at 3780 feet above sea level. I think I made it most of the way up, but there's this stretch near the end where the trail goes over a whoooole lotta rocky shelves. It was still snowing above 3000 feet, and, um, well... Going up could have been managed. But I remembered my climb of the bluff next to Granddad Bluff in Wisconsin, ,and had no real desire to deal with wet rock going DOWN. My explorer-hero has always been Ernest Shackleton; his men got back alive... I took some pictures including one probably crappy self-portrait (camera at arm's length) and made my way back down. It was an accomplishment even if I didn't get all the way up. Passed a LOT of people on the way back down; I don't think most of them got to the top either.
Tomorrow is horseback riding for two hours. I will probably do another trail or two while I wait for the bus to the ranch.
batyatoon, I thought of you on the trip through Denali. We had to get through a place called Polychrome Pass. Daughter of the Rainbow, indeed...
