Morning Ptarmigan

Before it gets to be a month after the fact, I wanted to post these photos and words from our mid-September alpine hike:

Going up Blackerby Ridge

14 September

We weighed our bags before we left the house this morning. Mine weighed in at 17lbs; Scott’s 35 lbs.

We’ve gotten up and over Cairn Peak. I’m eating a tiny bag of Alaska Air snack mix from four months ago that I found crumpled and pathetic looking in one of the pack’s side pockets. They’re stale yet delicious. Scott’s wandering around, with Lota a few steps behind, looking for a good camp spot.

Just as we’re getting into the good stuff, my iPhone dies (and along with it the one camera we brought with us), and I think I should’ve listened to Scott when he told me to wait as I took photos of what now seems like pitiful images.

Scott is throwing snow balls at me and one came this close to hitting me.

We can’t even take a photo of our tent set up. I’m trying not to care. For the rest of the day and night and tomorrow, I’ll be looking at scenery in dismay – but why? Just because I can’t take a photo of it.

This reminds me of Junior standing next to me on Ol Doinyo Langai in Tanzania. As I’m shooting away on my little point and shoot camera, he says, looking out in the distance, hands devoid of any device, “I’m taking a photo right now.”

Scott’s setting up camp. I can’t wait to play cribbage and take my shoes off. Lota is ready to nap. This has been his biggest day yet.



Lota eating lunch overlooking Juneau.



Those two are always ahead of me.



This will be my favorite photo for a long time. Overlooking Salmon Creek reservoir.

On our way to Cairn Peak.

 

Lota's exposure to snow is limited but we can already tell he's a snow dog.



Cairn and Observation Peaks. The camera died just as we got over Cairn.

When we got atop Cairn, Scott wanted to check the altitude with his GPS unit, allowing Lota a chance to sneak in a quick nap.



We summited Observation Sunday morning around 9:30. It was just at 5,000 feet. As summits go, it was one of the easier ones I've done.

On the ridge behind me to the left is camp 17. The Juneau ice field to the right.

15 September (the next morning)

My therma-rest deflated soon after I laid on it, which I expected. I felt so snug in my sleeping bag that I didn’t seem to notice. Lota spent half the night at our feet, the other half on our heads, and he fidgeted a lot. I thought he was cold and tried to put clothes over him as blankets.

Early in the morning, flocks of ptarmigan flew over the tent – first a slight clicking sound and then the overwhelming flapping of wings. It caught Lota’s attention and Scott let him out of the tent to run free. Soon Scott just opened one of the tent doors to reveal the sunrise. Streaks of clouds over the mountaintops turned orange, pink, peach. Scott took his sleeping bag outside to see the complete view and Lota, in all his morning ptarmigan excitement, jumped all over him and even did some growling. I watched the streaks of color from inside the tent, my eyes closing intermittently. Then Scott and Lota went to the ice field and I tried to snuggle in for more sleep. Didn’t happen.

Now the sun has risen. Scott’s heating water up for breakfast and the flat clouds are white with light blue sky in between.

We have to climb Observation and follow the ridge to Mt. Juneau and then down. It’s another beautiful, almost fall day. Scott picked the perfect weekend for this. We’re at just over 4,500 feet.

*

I broke down later that Sunday, a few hours after we made our way down the other side of Observation, a process that even Scott called “hairy”. The rest of the ridge walk to Mt. Juneau seemed absolutely daunting to me. It didn’t seem possible that we’d get there before night fall. I envisioned having to call work Monday morning saying I couldn’t make it in because we were still in the alpine. I wondered how search and rescue would find us. When Scott wanted to stop and eat, I insisted we conserve food as we didn’t know how long we’d be hiking. I cried (as is usual for me on long, challenging hikes), my nose ran, I became dehydrated, I drank straight from an alpine puddle.

When I reach this point, mountains are no longer beautiful, no matter how beautiful they truly are; they’re just menacing. And the day is just terrible, even though the sun wouldn’t quit and it was the last warmth (close to 70) that Juneau felt for the year.

I tortured Scott, accused him of fooling me into going on the hike at all.

But of course, several hours later, we made it back to the car before dark. Between the trailhead and the car, we saw a black bear, which Scott identified as a “big dog” at first. Lota didn’t even notice.

The following weekend we awoke to see fresh snow atop Observation Peak.