Eeeeeee, my thigh muscles.

[camwyn]

Got up Mt. Healy today. Had a few nasty patches; there were two spots where the trail was about a foot wide. We are not talking twelve inches here, oh no; we are talking marginally wider than the Reebok approach shoe that has served as my primary sneaker for the past four years. Thankfully those patches were very short, but, erm, there is this bit about traversing such a narrow bit of path that requires one to at least briefly glimpse that direction known as DOWN. Mount Healy is only 3700+ feet above sea level, that's nothing next to the rest of the Park, but it IS rather higher than I have ever been sans airplane before aside from Denver. And, well, I break, you know? So I praised the New York Skate Club for teaching me the ways of Tunnel Vision - for it is much easier to go up a hill in heavy skates if you look only at the bit of the road just in front of you - and fixed my eyes on the path until I got past the eeky bits.

I had two guides on the way up, and I do not mean human ones. Despite my mother's feeling that I should have done this with people around me, i did not think that Mt. Healy required a full expedition. No, my guides were positive and negative- encouragement and goading, you might say - and they took the forms of animals. Positive was Gray Jay, as many of these birds appeared shortly after I hit bad patches or got a goodly distance. They're clever little corvids, camp robbers, ,awfully appealing, and very curious. Negative was Bluebottle Fly, or at least House Fly - couldn't tell for sure. This one buzzed past my ear or landed on a rock in front of me almost every time I feared slipping, twisting an ankle, or exhaustion. I looked at Fly and muttered, "you'll get no carrion from ME today," and found the strength to keep on going; Gray Jay showed up after that.

Got to the top and EEEEE WIND. 3700 feet, after all, and no trees to break it- tree line is 2700 feet or so. There were other people there, two of whom had passed me on the way up. I sat down near the end of trail sign post and got out my triple decker crunchy peanut butter sammitch. No sign of either Gray Jay or Fly, but I sure as hell heard Raven cawing once or twice.

I left some crumbs. It's not good to leave food in the park, the animals will get used to humans, but it seemed disrespectful not to offer SOMETHING.

Eventually got back down, passing a WHOLE PLATOON OF OLD JAPANESE PEOPLE along the way. No, seriously, about twenty greying Japanese tourists with alpine climbing sticks were coming up the trail at varying points. I was pleased to see that even the middle-aged folks I passed on the way down were sweating as much as I had. I got safely past the EEEEE NARROW bits, but did slip a few times on other parts of the path, and once or twice had to scootch down on my butt. (Very large rocks were involved.) I'd left at noon; I feared not getting back in time for the 5:30 shuttle, as I had deliberately taken my time and stopped every few minutes. The climb is supposed to take about four hours, covering 2.2 miles. This does not count the 0.7 mille walk along the Taiga Trail from the Alaska Railroad tracks.

According to the ladies at the railroad tracks, when I got back it was 3:30.

I spent the rest of the time at the ranger station calling my folks, sending some more postcards, ceasing to sweat, a nd knitting. Also letting my thigh muscles and the balls of my feet decompress (it is easier for me to take small bits of slope if I go temporarily digitigrade rather than plantigrade). I'm working on a hat in the state colours although I may need to buy another skein of blue - fortunately the blue I have now is only the liner, so need not be the same dye lot. I have done a chunk of my laundry, though not all. When I get back to Fairbanks tomorrow I am going to Fred Meyer for more yarn and some souvenirs, and probably washing the rest of my laundry. Then I will sleep while I can, for on the 16th my plane leaves Fairbanks at 6:15 AM. I intend to be on it. I'll miss Alaska, but I'd rather live in the Pacific NOrthwest to be quite honest. Still and all, this is a lovely place, and I would not be upset at the prospect of coming back.

Comments

[ocean-song.livejournal.com]

it IS rather higher than I have ever been sans airplane before aside from Denver. And, well, I break, you know?

I have enjoyed reading your adventures, even though I havent been replying. I am slowly catching up as we speak. But wow. You are quite the free spirit. And so darn funny.

That is *so* terrifying. I cannot imagine being that high, without ropes and harnass or a net or something... And I appreciate what you mean about leaving offerings. I feel the same way.

I got safely past the EEEEE NARROW bits, but did slip a few times on other parts of the path, and once or twice had to scootch down on my butt.

Wow. You amaze me. Go you! I do love hiking. I miss it, but don't know if my knees and feet could take it anymore. My last hike was up and down across the lava fields, and trying to keep my friends from literally falling into the active lava. That was fun.

I hope you will eventually post pictures of your adventures. Alaska! Yay! Someday, for some amount of time, I'd like to live there. I would also love to meet you. You crack me up.