Tuesday, June 30, 2015
Valdez small boat harbor
June 26 - Squirrel creek campsite - Richardson Highway north of Thompson Pass - a diving duck fishes alone in a wide spot on the creek, and the grey clouds scuttle quickly overhead racing from the coast, but dissipating after rising up through Thompson Pass and towards Alaska's vast interior. The slate grey sky reflects as a shimmering background for the ever changing elongated ovoids of dark green floating and changing and forming, and stretching, and joining, and dissipating as the breeze creates ripples over the water. An abandoned fishing skiff lays beached among the reeds across the river, it's owner having been absent long enough to bleach the benches, and gunnels pale tan, stripped of any paint. A bald eagle soars low over the trees at the edge of the river scanning for any prey unfortunate enough to be In shallow enough water for the powerful bird to spy from above.
We have left the rainy coast and busy fishing and tourist port town of Valdez behind with its steady drizzle, and squads of ubiquitous White boxy rental RVs. The ferry disgorges a new fleet of travelers with each stop once a day- most of which rapidly dissipate up the Richardson Highway, but some who congregate in the soulless parking lot RV camps near the small boat harbor.
Out near the compact airport is "man camp" a crowded collection of clustered multi story quick build barracks for the army of transient labor working on the new port construction project and its related stone quarry, and at the trains-Alaskan pipeline terminal across the bay and the other gravel operations. Mining sized dump trucks belch their acrid exhaust endlessly one truck after another all day long drive out of the harbor carrying the blasted and scraped and dredged remains of a shoreside hillside that is being transformed into a new boat harbor.
In Valdez ( actually new Valdez, since the original Valdez was abandoned and burned after the 1964 9.2, 5 minute earthquake and subsequent tsunami) is built on the terminal end of Prince William Sound, surrounded by the snow capped Chugash mountains. Waterfalls cascades down the steep alder covered slopes beneath the melting snow fields above. Their is no evidence of the booming heli-ski operations which operate here between mid February though Early April- but two kayak companies keep a colorful fleet of stout double kayaks in the small boat harbor for daily short, and multi-day excursions.
There is a salty fleet of sturdy commercial fishing vessels, sprouting all sorts of tethered super structure, a mound of netting threaded with bouys along one edge, and a deep welled tender, used to stretch the net around the suspecting schools of fish out in the deeper water. They were all out yesterday, but this morning found them all in port, holds being hosed out and engine compartments open with work in progress. Mountain sized fisherman mingled in knots, smoking cigarettes, and gesticulating dramatically as voices rise to make a point. Dashboards of the hard working vessels strewn with sea charts and binoculars, and air horns, and threaded with piles of electronic devices leave barely any clear room for the captains to see forward. The tall proud prows of these vessels reflect the steep seas in which they must often find themselves.
Bald Eagle on Eklutna Lake
June 29 - Eklutna Lake, AK - 10 miles into the Chugash State Park off the Glenn Highway north of Anchorage lies a gem of an Alpine Lake called Eklutna. There is a state campground at the end of the paved road, and from there you can take an easy hike along the lake, or a more strenuous hike up into the Alpine high onto Twin Peaks. If you come Sunday through Wednesday expect to hear swarms of ATV enthusiasts on the lakeside road, kicking up dust, but generally much less disturbing overall compared to Motorcycles or snow mobiles. You can rent single or double kayaks at the concession (or mountain bikes too) at the lake for a reasonable rate and the park does not permit any gas powered motorized boats on the lake with only a walk-in ramp. canoes and kayaks only. The water is a grey/pale green/ blue from the glacial silt contributed by the glacier at the lake's head. The park has a cabin on the lake, at about 3.5 miles in, that you can reserve. There are also two campsites at the end of the lake that have outhouses. There is a flat dirt road, great for mountain biking running all the way down the east shore, so you can use that road to access the hiking trail up Bold ridge. You can also make a day trip from the campsite at the far end of the lake to Serenity Falls and Hut.
Because of the road and the 4 wheelers some of the week, wildlife is pretty scarce on the east side of the lake, but if you paddle up the west side of the lake keep your eyes out for Eagles. The large scavenger birds tend to perch in dead tree limbs at the water's edge on the downwind shore, waiting to see what the wind will carry across the lake to their dinner table,
The lake is deceptively big, and the water is cold, like 45 degrees cold, and being nestled tight in a glacial valley, the weather can change very rapidly. The steep chop builds fast as the lake's shores rise suddenly at the edges. The lake is used as the primary drinking water source for Anchorage, and that same water is used to generate electricity on it's way down the hill. Because of that draw on the water, this natural lake has more the look of a reservoir around the shores, with a steep, graveled bank, rising some 20 feet during our visit before reaching the vegetation line. I would guess at different times of the year, and during different weather cycles this rocky shore may grow, or disappear, but there are no shore mammals, like beavers or otters or muskrats that would otherwise occupy this special environmental niche due to the unnatural fluctuations of the water level. It's still very pretty, with the snow capped Chugash Mountains Comfortably nestled at the end of the lake beckoning the adventuresome traveler and the heavily forested slopes pleasantly covering the hillsides below the alpine. If you are not an ATV'r, avoid Sunday through Wednesday, but especially Sunday, when the day riders come out from Anchorage.
Saturday, June 27, 2015
Thursday, June 25, 2015
Wednesday, June 24, 2015
More Skoli hiking
June 21 - Father's Day - Skolai Pass - Very hazy day due to wildfires burning to the south. Peaks are obscured at our breakfast of fried onion, scrambled egg, and grated potatoes but they appear later. Hard to tell forest smoke from incoming weather. Hiked up towards Hole in the Wall glacier but eastward progress stopped by it's drainage river which was too exuberant for us to venture crossing. Ate lunch on a rocky knob which had obviously been used by some root to dismantle prey as there was a scattering of bleached small mammal bones all about. A ten was troubling a bald eagle this morning and we watched it drive the bigger bird first up the valley then down and out of the vast drainage. Photograph some killdeers near the river's edge, loud and Bold.
June 20- Skolai Pass- today we hike from our base camp in the Skolai pass to the toe of the Russel Glacier. We have hiked east, following a series of ledges to a knoll free of the alders. Along the way we crossed numerous creeks, passing beneath one waterfall after another cascading over the steep rocky escarpment left exposed beneath the hanging glaciers clinging to the mountain tops. Now at lunch there is a nice breeze blowing and no bugs pester us. Plenty of fresh and not so fresh bear tracks and scat decorate the landscape, so we re calling out "Hey Bear!" And clicking our poles around each bend of our journey. Looking back the way we came, we can see our camp proudly perched on it's knob 3 miles away. The vista is immense and we are quit sure we are the only human party in a range easily 40 miles in every direction - probably more. There is certainly no evidence of humans, no trails, no straight lines, no campfire rings ( we are well above tree line), and no sounds but the cascading water off the step benches above.
Monday, June 15, 2015
Travel updates
June 14 - Deadman lake, Tetlin National Wildlife Refuge, Alaska
A warm breeze blows towards to beach over the expansive waters of Deadmain Lake. The thin clouds do not block the warm sun, and we relish in the warmth and silence, and calm of this place compared to the jarring and dusty hours on the Alaska Highway this morning. There is a pair of loons floating and diving just 100 yards off shore,and a lone trumpeter swan floats lazily in the shallows in the adjacent bay. We hear an osprey calling but cannot pick her out of the forested shore. Occasionally a fish jumps nearby, but it barely disturbs the calm sway of the lilies near the shore. To the southwest, across the lake's waters, and easily 60 miles away the frosty ramparts of the St. Elias range rise out of the forest. Through the binoculars we can pick out the distinctive outlines of Mt. Logan and its adjacent glaciated peaks, stretching from horizon to horizon.
We have stopped for the day early to look for birds, and to take advantage of this free camping spot in a primitive campground with just one other party. The alaska highway is built on permafrost, and as such gets tossed and tumbled by frost heaves as soon as it is regraded and chip sealed. To drive it is a bit like navigating whitewater, looking for the smoothest passage through a series of bumps and dips, avoiding the biggest holes and holding on tight of the long roller ride as the shock absorbers try to counteract the displacement of the springs. Usually we manage to avoid the biggest imperfections without swerving off the road, but occasionally, the jarring lump cannot be avoided, and every object in every cupboard takes an unrestrained leap upwards as we drop off the far side of a pavement swell, then it all comes down with a cacophony of clatters as we compress on the next lump.
This morning before crossing back onto U.S. Soil and asphalt roadway and finally reaching Alaska after two weeks of travel, we stopped on two occasions to observe Grizzly bears grazing on the roadside salad of wildflowers. I used the window mounted camera stand I fabricated for just such an occasion to support the big lens while I shot frame after frame of the unperturbed animals. Hopefully I will post a few of these shots before long.
There is still a First Nations community that lives just over the border and they continue to do subsistence hunting and fishing on theses lands. They cross over the border easily, as most of their hungering and gathering travel occurs by water or through the frozen mushy lands that form the bottomland of this area. The preserve is a designated wildlife preserve and IBA, important bird area, due to its vast marshy topography and the long summer daylight hours. Many species transact this broad valley on both legs of their seasonal migration from the arctic plain, and some call this valley home for nesting.
June 13 - camped at Lake Creek, Yukon, north of Kluane Lake on the Alaska Highway, 3,080 miles from Truckee - cool, with mixed sun and clouds - started our drive north from Haines Junction Yukon towards Alaska. The road is very rough, with big frost heaves, pot holes, and sections of gravel. Some driver going the other way too fast and without mud flaps threw a rock which cracked our windshield. Hopefully that won't grow too fast and we Can make it to Anchorage before seeking a repair. We drove to the Sheep creek trailhead, an amazing sight where the highway crosses over the morrain from the Sims river as it drained the frosty heights of the adjacent ice fields. The scale of the landscape was remarkable, with the river bottom several mile's wide of braided gravel, draining glacially scoured valleys of enormous depth and length, all in honor of the pristine snow capped peaks of Mt. Logan massive beyond. This river used to flow to the pacific, but an ice dam formed on Kluane lake and rose the lake level 40 feet. The water subsequently found a new outlet and drained to the Bering sea, the exact opposite direction. After that episode resolved, the flow has continued towards the Bering Sea and the flow on the Sims River basically reversed course. Remarkable. We travel on the same path as what seems to us to be a very large grizzly bear who has left deep and clear tracks on most of our hike today. We are too far north for black bears, so we know this is a grizzly. Last night we had a heavy downpour, so the path was wiped clear like a smugless window, and the bear left us tracks as clear as a kindergarten teacher's alphabet in the blackboard. It was a bit spooky, but the bear had come down off the mountain before we went up, I suppose to fish in the river, so we were never really concerned.
Kluane lake is smaller than Tahoe, but not by much, being the biggest natural lake in The Yukon. It is a turquoise color and very clear, but today a strong wind was blowing whipping up a messy chop across the vast fetch of water. Flanked on two sides by monstrous mountain ranges, the two uncontained sides are vast unbroken vistas. The single road, the one we re on runs up and down the open valley, but is dwarfed by the massive landscape. We see a glimpse of some sort of cat on the side of the road, and a black mink hopping and diving to capture some prey just beyond our sight. A grizzly bear scratches his rump on a tree and we stop to watch the antics.
June 12 - Dezadeash Lake, Kluane Provincial park, western Yukon, on the edge of the St. Elias Mountain range.
first of all, it's not, The Yukon, or Yukon Territories anymore. in recent times the name has been officially changed to Yukon- a real province like all the others. We have washed up on the shore of western Yukon at the foot of the massive St. Elias Range topped with some of the largest ice caps on the continent after a long overland voyage across British Columbia. We can move no further west, as the alpine ramparts block further progress and we must follow the glacial valley north in order to reach Alaska from here. South is Haines, and we can see along the mountain ridge almost all the way to the sea from here.
There are almost no large birds to observe as they must have migrated either north or south from here and will not return until the Salmon run in a few months. There are Mosquitos, but the wind and cool temperatures have kept them well under control. The forest and meadows are carpeted with lush wild flowers , lupine, wild rose, red and yellow paintbrush, and a few smaller varieties we have not identified. Along the hiking trails and lake shores are a wide variety of fresh animal scat and lots of large hoofed prints - like woodland caribou.
Wispy clouds shroud the middle elevations, leaving the steep lower forest slopes, and upper snowy ramparts free of the thick gauze. This is what passes for a clear day here, as it is not raining and the entire sky is not ping pong ball grey. Small songbirds fly by, as almost a second thought of the wind, like they are passengers on a speeding freight train, rather then individually minded creatures with a locomotion plan.
We are intending to almost circumnavigate the St. Elias Mountain Range over the next two weeks. this range is the largest international contiguous protected land mass in the world, and as such has earned the "World Heritage Site" distinction. At it's center, the range is a swarm of interconnected ice fields and glaciers. On the eastern flank where we now find ourselves, there is a massive alluvial plain rising out of the marshes and ending at the snow capped mountain ridges- much like a wet version of the eastern Sierras. Today as we climbed up to the foot of an extinct smaller glacier, now really just a large fan of scree spilling out of a gash in the mountainside Diane spots a large porcupine nibbling on tender shoots of mountain aspen. The animal is about the size of a small beach ball, and when alerted to our approach, he expanded his long quills so he looked like a mountain version of a large sea anemone. After eyeing us carefully, he ambled a slight distance away, and climbed up a stubby tree to continue his nibbling.
While reclining in thrones built of flat stones at the top of the trail, with a commanding view out over Dezadeash Lake, Diane spots a cow moose along the shore of the Lake, grazing knee high in water but easily 75-100 feet off shore. The large beast could be plainly seen, almost 3/4 of a mile away surrounded by the shimmering water of the lake, dipping her whole head under Water to munch, then lifting it dribbling on her high shoulders to look around. The binoculars brought her details in nicely, but of course, I did not have the big lens in my pack, so we settled for a protracted observation through the binoculars. Our first moose of the journey. Hurray.
Sent from my iPad
A warm breeze blows towards to beach over the expansive waters of Deadmain Lake. The thin clouds do not block the warm sun, and we relish in the warmth and silence, and calm of this place compared to the jarring and dusty hours on the Alaska Highway this morning. There is a pair of loons floating and diving just 100 yards off shore,and a lone trumpeter swan floats lazily in the shallows in the adjacent bay. We hear an osprey calling but cannot pick her out of the forested shore. Occasionally a fish jumps nearby, but it barely disturbs the calm sway of the lilies near the shore. To the southwest, across the lake's waters, and easily 60 miles away the frosty ramparts of the St. Elias range rise out of the forest. Through the binoculars we can pick out the distinctive outlines of Mt. Logan and its adjacent glaciated peaks, stretching from horizon to horizon.
We have stopped for the day early to look for birds, and to take advantage of this free camping spot in a primitive campground with just one other party. The alaska highway is built on permafrost, and as such gets tossed and tumbled by frost heaves as soon as it is regraded and chip sealed. To drive it is a bit like navigating whitewater, looking for the smoothest passage through a series of bumps and dips, avoiding the biggest holes and holding on tight of the long roller ride as the shock absorbers try to counteract the displacement of the springs. Usually we manage to avoid the biggest imperfections without swerving off the road, but occasionally, the jarring lump cannot be avoided, and every object in every cupboard takes an unrestrained leap upwards as we drop off the far side of a pavement swell, then it all comes down with a cacophony of clatters as we compress on the next lump.
This morning before crossing back onto U.S. Soil and asphalt roadway and finally reaching Alaska after two weeks of travel, we stopped on two occasions to observe Grizzly bears grazing on the roadside salad of wildflowers. I used the window mounted camera stand I fabricated for just such an occasion to support the big lens while I shot frame after frame of the unperturbed animals. Hopefully I will post a few of these shots before long.
There is still a First Nations community that lives just over the border and they continue to do subsistence hunting and fishing on theses lands. They cross over the border easily, as most of their hungering and gathering travel occurs by water or through the frozen mushy lands that form the bottomland of this area. The preserve is a designated wildlife preserve and IBA, important bird area, due to its vast marshy topography and the long summer daylight hours. Many species transact this broad valley on both legs of their seasonal migration from the arctic plain, and some call this valley home for nesting.
June 13 - camped at Lake Creek, Yukon, north of Kluane Lake on the Alaska Highway, 3,080 miles from Truckee - cool, with mixed sun and clouds - started our drive north from Haines Junction Yukon towards Alaska. The road is very rough, with big frost heaves, pot holes, and sections of gravel. Some driver going the other way too fast and without mud flaps threw a rock which cracked our windshield. Hopefully that won't grow too fast and we Can make it to Anchorage before seeking a repair. We drove to the Sheep creek trailhead, an amazing sight where the highway crosses over the morrain from the Sims river as it drained the frosty heights of the adjacent ice fields. The scale of the landscape was remarkable, with the river bottom several mile's wide of braided gravel, draining glacially scoured valleys of enormous depth and length, all in honor of the pristine snow capped peaks of Mt. Logan massive beyond. This river used to flow to the pacific, but an ice dam formed on Kluane lake and rose the lake level 40 feet. The water subsequently found a new outlet and drained to the Bering sea, the exact opposite direction. After that episode resolved, the flow has continued towards the Bering Sea and the flow on the Sims River basically reversed course. Remarkable. We travel on the same path as what seems to us to be a very large grizzly bear who has left deep and clear tracks on most of our hike today. We are too far north for black bears, so we know this is a grizzly. Last night we had a heavy downpour, so the path was wiped clear like a smugless window, and the bear left us tracks as clear as a kindergarten teacher's alphabet in the blackboard. It was a bit spooky, but the bear had come down off the mountain before we went up, I suppose to fish in the river, so we were never really concerned.
Kluane lake is smaller than Tahoe, but not by much, being the biggest natural lake in The Yukon. It is a turquoise color and very clear, but today a strong wind was blowing whipping up a messy chop across the vast fetch of water. Flanked on two sides by monstrous mountain ranges, the two uncontained sides are vast unbroken vistas. The single road, the one we re on runs up and down the open valley, but is dwarfed by the massive landscape. We see a glimpse of some sort of cat on the side of the road, and a black mink hopping and diving to capture some prey just beyond our sight. A grizzly bear scratches his rump on a tree and we stop to watch the antics.
June 12 - Dezadeash Lake, Kluane Provincial park, western Yukon, on the edge of the St. Elias Mountain range.
first of all, it's not, The Yukon, or Yukon Territories anymore. in recent times the name has been officially changed to Yukon- a real province like all the others. We have washed up on the shore of western Yukon at the foot of the massive St. Elias Range topped with some of the largest ice caps on the continent after a long overland voyage across British Columbia. We can move no further west, as the alpine ramparts block further progress and we must follow the glacial valley north in order to reach Alaska from here. South is Haines, and we can see along the mountain ridge almost all the way to the sea from here.
There are almost no large birds to observe as they must have migrated either north or south from here and will not return until the Salmon run in a few months. There are Mosquitos, but the wind and cool temperatures have kept them well under control. The forest and meadows are carpeted with lush wild flowers , lupine, wild rose, red and yellow paintbrush, and a few smaller varieties we have not identified. Along the hiking trails and lake shores are a wide variety of fresh animal scat and lots of large hoofed prints - like woodland caribou.
Wispy clouds shroud the middle elevations, leaving the steep lower forest slopes, and upper snowy ramparts free of the thick gauze. This is what passes for a clear day here, as it is not raining and the entire sky is not ping pong ball grey. Small songbirds fly by, as almost a second thought of the wind, like they are passengers on a speeding freight train, rather then individually minded creatures with a locomotion plan.
We are intending to almost circumnavigate the St. Elias Mountain Range over the next two weeks. this range is the largest international contiguous protected land mass in the world, and as such has earned the "World Heritage Site" distinction. At it's center, the range is a swarm of interconnected ice fields and glaciers. On the eastern flank where we now find ourselves, there is a massive alluvial plain rising out of the marshes and ending at the snow capped mountain ridges- much like a wet version of the eastern Sierras. Today as we climbed up to the foot of an extinct smaller glacier, now really just a large fan of scree spilling out of a gash in the mountainside Diane spots a large porcupine nibbling on tender shoots of mountain aspen. The animal is about the size of a small beach ball, and when alerted to our approach, he expanded his long quills so he looked like a mountain version of a large sea anemone. After eyeing us carefully, he ambled a slight distance away, and climbed up a stubby tree to continue his nibbling.
While reclining in thrones built of flat stones at the top of the trail, with a commanding view out over Dezadeash Lake, Diane spots a cow moose along the shore of the Lake, grazing knee high in water but easily 75-100 feet off shore. The large beast could be plainly seen, almost 3/4 of a mile away surrounded by the shimmering water of the lake, dipping her whole head under Water to munch, then lifting it dribbling on her high shoulders to look around. The binoculars brought her details in nicely, but of course, I did not have the big lens in my pack, so we settled for a protracted observation through the binoculars. Our first moose of the journey. Hurray.
Sent from my iPad
Friday, June 12, 2015
Kluane Provincial Park
June 12 - Dezadeash Lake, Kluane Provincial park, western Yukon, on the edge of the St. Elias Mountain range.
first of all, it's not, The Yukon, or Yukon Territories anymore. in recent times the name has been officially changed to Yukon- a real province like all the others. We have washed up on the shore of western Yukon at the foot of the massive St. Elias Range topped with some of the largest ice caps on the continent after a long overland voyage across British Columbia. We can move no further west, as the alpine ramparts block further progress and we must follow the glacial valley north in order to reach Alaska from here. South is Haines, and we can see along the mountain ridge almost all the way to the sea from here.
There are almost no large birds to observe as they must have migrated either north or south from here and will not return until the Salmon run in a few months. There are Mosquitos, but the wind and cool temperatures have kept them well under control. The forest and meadows are carpeted with lush wild flowers , lupine, wild rose, red and yellow paintbrush, and a few smaller varieties we have not identified. Along the hiking trails and lake shores are a wide variety of fresh animal scat and lots of large hoofed prints - like woodland caribou.
Wispy clouds shroud the middle elevations, leaving the steep lower forest slopes, and upper snowy ramparts free of the thick gauze. This is what passes for a clear day here, as it is not raining and the entire sky is not ping pong ball grey. Small songbirds fly by, as almost a second thought of the wind, like they are passengers on a speeding freight train, rather then individually minded creatures with a locomotion plan.
We are intending to almost circumnavigate the St. Elias Mountain Range over the next two weeks. this range is the largest international contiguous protected land mass in the world, and as such has earned the "World Heritage Site" distinction. At it's center, the range is a swarm of interconnected ice fields and glaciers. On the eastern flank where we now find ourselves, there is a massive alluvial plain rising out of the marshes and ending at the snow capped mountain ridges- much like a wet version of the eastern Sierras. Today as we climbed up to the foot of an extinct smaller glacier, now really just a large fan of scree spilling out of a gash in the mountainside Diane spots a large porcupine nibbling on tender shoots of mountain aspen. The animal is about the size of a small beach ball, and when alerted to our approach, he expanded his long quills so he looked like a mountain version of a large sea anemone. After eyeing us carefully, he ambled a slight distance away, and climbed up a stubby tree to continue his nibbling.
While reclining in thrones built of flat stones at the top of the trail, with a commanding view out over Dezadeash Lake, Diane spots a cow moose along the shore of the Lake, grazing knee high in water but easily 75-100 feet off shore. The large beast could be plainly seen, almost 3/4 of a mile away surrounded by the shimmering water of the lake, dipping her whole head under Water to munch, then lifting it dribbling on her high shoulders to look around. The binoculars brought her details in nicely, but of course, I did not have the big lens in my pack, so we settled for a protracted observation through the binoculars. Our first moose of the journey. Hurray.
first of all, it's not, The Yukon, or Yukon Territories anymore. in recent times the name has been officially changed to Yukon- a real province like all the others. We have washed up on the shore of western Yukon at the foot of the massive St. Elias Range topped with some of the largest ice caps on the continent after a long overland voyage across British Columbia. We can move no further west, as the alpine ramparts block further progress and we must follow the glacial valley north in order to reach Alaska from here. South is Haines, and we can see along the mountain ridge almost all the way to the sea from here.
There are almost no large birds to observe as they must have migrated either north or south from here and will not return until the Salmon run in a few months. There are Mosquitos, but the wind and cool temperatures have kept them well under control. The forest and meadows are carpeted with lush wild flowers , lupine, wild rose, red and yellow paintbrush, and a few smaller varieties we have not identified. Along the hiking trails and lake shores are a wide variety of fresh animal scat and lots of large hoofed prints - like woodland caribou.
Wispy clouds shroud the middle elevations, leaving the steep lower forest slopes, and upper snowy ramparts free of the thick gauze. This is what passes for a clear day here, as it is not raining and the entire sky is not ping pong ball grey. Small songbirds fly by, as almost a second thought of the wind, like they are passengers on a speeding freight train, rather then individually minded creatures with a locomotion plan.
We are intending to almost circumnavigate the St. Elias Mountain Range over the next two weeks. this range is the largest international contiguous protected land mass in the world, and as such has earned the "World Heritage Site" distinction. At it's center, the range is a swarm of interconnected ice fields and glaciers. On the eastern flank where we now find ourselves, there is a massive alluvial plain rising out of the marshes and ending at the snow capped mountain ridges- much like a wet version of the eastern Sierras. Today as we climbed up to the foot of an extinct smaller glacier, now really just a large fan of scree spilling out of a gash in the mountainside Diane spots a large porcupine nibbling on tender shoots of mountain aspen. The animal is about the size of a small beach ball, and when alerted to our approach, he expanded his long quills so he looked like a mountain version of a large sea anemone. After eyeing us carefully, he ambled a slight distance away, and climbed up a stubby tree to continue his nibbling.
While reclining in thrones built of flat stones at the top of the trail, with a commanding view out over Dezadeash Lake, Diane spots a cow moose along the shore of the Lake, grazing knee high in water but easily 75-100 feet off shore. The large beast could be plainly seen, almost 3/4 of a mile away surrounded by the shimmering water of the lake, dipping her whole head under Water to munch, then lifting it dribbling on her high shoulders to look around. The binoculars brought her details in nicely, but of course, I did not have the big lens in my pack, so we settled for a protracted observation through the binoculars. Our first moose of the journey. Hurray.
Wednesday, June 10, 2015
Sunsets
June 10. - Whitehorse, Yukon Territory
Sunsets - Sunsets are a different thing here than I've come to expect. Living my whole life between 40 and 50 degrees north latitude, I've come to expect certain things from the sunrise and sunset. generally there is a sweet hour before rise, and after set when the light is great for photography. Generally, once you identify that the sun is setting, you can find a comfortable spot and watch it go, from day to dusk, from dawn to day. Enough time for a quick mediation, or appreciation of the day, and whamo, the sun is gone, and there is just after glow left behind. Not so, here in the northern latitudes. The sun hangs around on the horizon near the end of the day, like a guest unwilling to say goodbye after a great day of fellowship. Instead of going up, or coming down, the sun seems to skid sideways at the brackets of the day, staying above the horizon until after 10 at night and rising again while I am still deep in sleep. Instead of rising or setting, the sun is Angled low, and seems to follow the horizon, at an angle asymptotic to its appointed departure from the day. Then, the sky keeps a low glow, but not a rose, like a pale gray hour after hour - at my two test awakenings, still glowing pale well after midnight. How's a tourist supposed to see the northern lights under these conditions?
Tuesday, June 9, 2015
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