There is Magic on Earth

Polar Bear at anchor in the Nevelsfjord near Eidet

Another 3-4am anchor watch. But again, truth be told: the peace and quiet (snoring from throughout the boat notwithstanding) of an anchor watch is worth it.

I went for my longed-for hike yesterday afternoon. It was great to stretch my legs and the scenery on shore was lovely (and again, very Alaska-esque). Spongy bog and muskeg terrain made for a slog, and between the countless watercourses wending their way down from the high country above and the rain-laden trees and undergrowth, I was soaked through in very short order. My hiking sneakers and socks were inundated so that every step was like walking on a sponge — while wearing sponges on your feet. The volume of water contained by the Earth in this habitat — in the streams, the bogs, the swampy areas, beneath the hummocks of grass — is just inconceivable. How much fresh water is there on the planet if all similar terrain at similar latitudes holds similar amounts of water? It staggers the mind.

The flowing water in the area made its way to the sea in many thin cascades that bounded down smoothed-rock mountain slopes of a glacial cirque. Beneath the slate-colored ramparts, the streams gathered into one fast- and clear-flowing torrent in a green plateau of small bushes and thin stands of trees. This creek launched off the ledge and down the final few hundred feet of elevation in a series of loud waterfalls, eventually entering the saltwater at the head of the fjord in a broad fan. While waiting for Boogie to pick me up in Polar Bear’s dinghy, I watched several sea trout feed on the detritus carried down from the high country, including one fish that launched itself a good foot-and-a-half clear of the surface in a tail-wagging feeding frenzy.

As Boy Wonder had said, there were several moose-hunting stands in the area. From down low, near the sea’s edge, to midway up the cirque, I must have seen half a dozen in just a short time. All were well-built and commanded great views of the terrain before them; I climbed one and found a plastic chair and a .30-06 casing. Unfortunately, the evidence I saw of the moose themselves was limited to tracks along the shore and one pile of moose nuggets.

Later this morning, we’ll fire up Polar Bear’s engines and head out of this fjord complex and down the coastline back to Bodø. The weather remains truly crappy, with low skies, high winds and periodic sheets of rain, despite a rapidly rising barometer. I suspect that unless things finally clear, we’ll find strong winds and potentially lumpy conditions out in the open water. We’ll tie up to the public dock in Bodø for the evening and the guests (along with Boy Wonder with his puppy dog, Mr. KIA Crewman, in tow) will depart on the afternoon flight on Friday. Boogie and Marlies and I will have a short time to get Polar Bear cleaned, provisioned and ready before the next set of guests arrive late morning on Saturday for the second of our two cruises here in northern Norway. I’m told these guests are two Polish families, with kids as young as 10, so a more conservative approach to the week of travel will likely be in order, especially if the weather remains this challenging.

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Quickie Adventure: The Sweaty Version

The Chugach Mountains cast an early morning shadow over Anchorage. Riding point for the Chugach is Flattop Mountain, LITERALLY Anchorage’s backyard and the most-climbed mountain in Alaska. From the Glen Alps Trailhead, it’s anywhere from 30 minutes (if you’re running) to a couple of hours (if you’re waddling). I tend to be more in the middle: my average time runs about 40 minutes.

Flattop Mountain from between the first and second saddles

Last week I took two jaunts up the snowy slopes. On Thursday, I cruised up on frozen snow under a wonderfully warm sun. Three days later, my Sunday hike took part in a slushy snowpack that was noticeably thinner. I wore Yak Tracks though they provided no more grip than the vibram soles on my shoes (boots on Thursday: excessive; ankle-high hiking sneakers on Sunday: a bit ambitious as the snow softened).

Can you see Denali through the haze? Look how big it is…and it’s 125-ish miles away!

It’s interesting how the snow changed the trail. In some ways, it made for a quicker hike: switchbacks were eliminated and a straight route taken. But that straighter route was often steeper, require a bit more sweat equity. For me, the difference was minor: 45 minutes to the top, both days.

Anchorage’s backyard: the Chugach Mountains

The route down on Sunday, however, was much quicker. Rather than follow the boot-kicked stairs down the ridge from the summit, I opted to slide on my ample butt and made the descent to the second saddle in a couple of minutes. As I walked out from the Flattop bowl, I sank to my crotch at times: clear sign that the snowpack was too soft and should be avoided. And true to form: a couple of days later, a hiker/sledder was killed by an avalanche on Bird Ridge.

Looking out over Alaska’s population center
So my forays to Flattop are likely over for now. I might squeeze one more hike in next week, but if I go, it’ll be on the ridges and in avalanche-safe areas, for sure. But as with hiking the peak in the summer: as long as you’re smart, it’s a hike anyone (in reasonable condition; the final push to the summit can be a bear) can and should do. The views from the top — from Denali and the Alaska Range up north to Mt. Illiamna down to the southwest — are spectacular, and as you sit on the edge of the flat summit that gives the mountain its name, you’ll get a glimpse of Alaska’s population center just over the tips of your toes. It’s a grand view, and one I’ll miss…until I return again.

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