Sister visit

Brigit is on her way - currently somewhere over South Dakota if you believe Continental Airlines - hooray!!! Considering that it was -15 at our house this morning and -17 at the nearest "official" temperature guage, I hope she's got thick socks packed!

The Lizard King

Beth's blog - read it. Be amazed.



http://rightanglesareforsquares.blogspot.com/2011/11/how-we-figured-out-what-funk-was-coming.html

Our dog can't handle her drugs

Bella had to go to the vet last night for some toenail repair, after badly cracking a couple of them over the weekend. Considering that she tried to bite a vet once for attempting to stethescope her, it was agreed by all parties that Bella would be sedated. This involved one powerful but reversible drug, plus a non-reversible opiate used to lower the amount of the other drug that was needed. So basically once the she was given the antidote to the first drug, our dog spent the rest of the night in an opium-induced haze.

These things that are all happening are sooo amazing...

 Of course its hilarious to watch your dog point in one direction and then start staggering in another. And we got to watch that a lot last night. Unfortunately that staggering was often accompanied by a lack of bladder control, so we went through a lot of paper towels, too. The constant light sprinkling of pee was definitely a problem, and although we could get her to go outside we couldn't get her to empty her bladder out there.

Then, once she came down just enough to realize that things were feeling really wierd she started whining. She kept this up all night, whining and going to the back door, making someone put her outside where she would stare at the mysteries of space for a few minutes (in the first sub-zero temperatures of the season, I might add) before wandering back inside without having gone to the bathroom.

Needless to say, Beth and I are very disappointed that Bella seems unable to handle her drugs. I mean, there was a whole spectrum of positive experiences available from eating tons of snacks, watching the moon, sleeping for 14 straight hours (Beth and my unanimous choices for what we would have done), talking to one of her stuffed toys... but instead she chose the freakout and lose bladder control route, which is the exact opposite of the "Beth and Eric sleep for 14 straight hours route."

Anyway, I am pretty sure that now our dog will be addicted to opium. We'll go home at the end of the day to find our TV gone, sold for $20 to someone via Craigslist. There will be a bunch of filthy, dazed, drugged-out-of-their minds cats all around the house. And we will follow a trail of pee sprinkles back to the bedroom where our beloved pet is passed out next to a pipe made from an old tuna can and our fireplace bellows... I already miss our old Bella...

Are you here to buy the Blu-Ray?

Halloween

This year was only the second time in my life that I had snow for Halloween. Of course, since we got a couple inches and places on the east coast got a couple feet, it turns out to not be a very impressive story. But I'll bet that our snow sticks around longer than theirs.

Anyway, we celebrated Halloween by having a couple friends over and making fondue. Our neighborhood is prime trick-or-treating territory, so we were kept busy all night going to the door to give out candy. Bella was shockingly well behaved, both towards the strangers at the door and our friends' dog - a puppish vizsla with about as much energy as a lightning bolt.

Usually Bella doesn't like posing for pictures when there are props involved, but she's willing to make exceptions when the props are lickable and taste like pumpkin.

Beth's pumpkin all aglow outside our front door.

My pumpkin wore a beard to cover up its embarrasingly bucked teeth.

Did I say beard? I meant beard and moustache - although the 'stache does grow alarmingly high on his face.

Snowflakes

in the air yesterday as I left work

Honeymooon plans

I just booked Beth and my honeymoon in FIJI! We're staying at the Royal Davui Island Resort, and I am excited, to say the least. This is what it looks like on Google Earth:

Take that, snowline thats ominously creeping down the mountains and getting closer to town each week!

Hiking and Camping in the Front Range

Over the course of my life, I’ve actually spent about 2% of my nights sleeping outside. Considering that I’ve never been homeless, I think that’s pretty cool. But somehow out of those roughly 200 nights camping, I had never done a solo overnight trip before last weekend.


Not that I consider that a bad thing. In fact, the chance to hang out with friends is one of the best things about camping. But this weekend the stars were aligned just so: Beth was out of town, Chris had movers coming on Friday and wouldn’t have access to his camping gear after that, Louis is trying to finish his masters, Brynn was out of town, the weather forecast looked good and its late enough in the year that an opportunity to get outside shouldn’t be missed. So that’s how I found myself hitting the trail at 2:15 on Friday afternoon after a short day of work, heading for wilds so remote…. so distant…. so…. wild…. that significant portions of the route cannot be seen from my office window and cell phone reception for many parts of the hike is poor-to-moderate.

Originally the plan was to do a loop that hiked around and then back over a ridge behind Wolverine Peak, one of the peaks in the front range of the Chugach, and an excellent hiking destination in its own right (You can click on the map, or any of the pictures, for an enlarged view).

It’s good to know that if discretion is the better part of valor, then I had a trip that was at least 51% valorous, because in the end I didn’t trust the route I would have to take to cross the ridge, especially alone and with a strong wind blowing on the valley floor. Instead, I simply took the same route back that I had taken to hike in.

Overall, it was an excellent trip. That wind I mentioned before kicked up pretty suddenly just after I had set up my tent. Given my setting, I didn’t really have any options for a more sheltered campsite. My tent was buffeted by the winds all night which made for some restless sleep, and it was actually windy enough that lighting my cooking stove was difficult for both dinner and breakfast. But the stove did get lit and I was plenty warm, so I guess in the end it wasn’t too bad at all.

I didn’t really have my phone handy on the first day to take pictures, but on Saturday I kept it out and took a bunch of pictures. I guess that was one good thing about backtracking – I got to take pictures of all the beautiful scenery I had missed the day before!

Here's Bella on day one, making good use of the "load up" command with O'Malley Peak as a backdrop



No more pictures until this one from the morning of day 2. I camped at the far end of this lake (Long Lake), with a good view of the ridge on the left of this picture. The original plan was to hike over the ridge in the morning, but i just didn't like the look of that plan. Wolverine Peak is in the sunshine at the far end of the ridge, just left of the picture's center.

You'd take a picture of a poop this size, too. Glad I didn't run into this guy on the trail, although from the look of things he was more interested in berries than anything else.

Climbing up from Long Lake and looking back on a pretty view.

On day 1 I came down the center of this slope on the way to Long Lake. I guess thats the problem with bushwhacking and following game trails - sometimes the route you take ends up being unexpectedly steep. (Note to my mom: steep enough to risk skinning a knee, not plummeting into an abyss)

Here's where I should have crossed the divide on day 1, and where I did cross on day 2. It was much easier this way.



Bella, sitting at the head of the Williwaw Valley. My eventual route will take me right up the line of the shadow on the right side of the ridge above the lake.



Looking back up at how I came down from the divide on day 2, heading back towards the start. I guess sometimes there's no helping it and you've just gotta do a bit more scrambling than hiking for a few minutes.

Taking a break from the scrambling - out of the wind and enjoying the view...

This view.

Bella enjoyed kibbles instead.

She also enjoyed romping through the tundra.

Looking down the Williwaw Valley, towards Anchorage.

Lots of sheep on the slopes of the valley. There were 14 here (not all are in the frame), but the day before there had been 19. I guess some had wandered off.

Look! Wildlife that's identifiable in a picture, instead of just being specks!

Thats more like it. These white specks are ptarmigan. There were dozens and dozens of them in the Williwaw Valley. Strangely, Bella wasn't interested in them in the slightest, despite the fact that they were roosting on the ground and milling about not far from us making funny little noises, and then would explode into the air as we got within about 20 feet.

Looking back up into the Williwaw Valley. My route went over the lowest point in the ridge in the background.

Bella pauses before the hardest part of our hike - a very steep 600' high scramble over loose rocks as we left the Williwaw Valley and climbed to "The Ballfield," as the high flat area west of O'Malley Peak is known.

Looking back mid-scramble, as I paused to catch my breath.

Up on The Ballfield, looking west over Anchorage.

Back at home, Bella was all tucked up after the hike. You can always tell how tired she is when she lies down, because the more exhausted she gets the farther she pulls up her hind legs. When her front and back paws are touching you know she's done. Maybe this is where the phrase "tuckered out" comes from?

This morning I helped a stranded motorist by pushing her car across an intersection and into a parking space where she could safely wait for assistance (singlehandedly, of course, unlike those jerks CNN keeps talking about). Then I still got to work 20 minutes early.

Seriously, what's gotten into me?

Tuesday night races are back!

The city of Anchorage does a great job throughout the year of providing opportunities for outdoor recreation - not only passively by providing lighted trails, groomed ice rinks, open spaces and the means to access the legitimate wilderness of Chugach State Park (technically within the municipal boundary) - but also by organizing a number of events throughout the year. One of my favorites is the Bonnie Sosa Tuesday Night Race series.

For 8 consecutive Tuesdays in the fall, volunteers set up race courses throughout a variety of the city's parks - 5 different parks in this year's version. These courses are just combinations of existing trails that are temporarily flagged for the event. That can include paved trails, wide gravel or dirt trails and narrow footpaths through the woods, sometimes with stream and swamp crossings thrown in for good measure. Separate routes are flagged for the Munchkin League, Farm League and Lightning League to allow runners of varying degrees of fitness (Olympians to expectant mothers pushing strollers) and competitiveness to all participate. The lengths of the races aren't known until the volunteers set the courses, but each group has a range of distances that are expected - 1-3K for Munchkins, 3-10K for Farm and 4-12K for lightning. Because of the rapid change in daylight during the race season, the longer distances are usually found in the first few weeks and the shortest distances found at the end of the series. While runners await the start of the races, the course setters briefly describe each course over a loudspeaker. The runners can then choose which course they want to run that day. or sometimes they will make a wrong turn while following the crown and find themselves on a different course. It doesn't really matter either way.

Each race begins with a mass start for the Farm and Lightning Leagues, followed 1 minute later by the start for the Munchkin League. Oftentimes there are bottlenecks as the race first transitions from the starting area (often a soccer field or the like) to a trail, or when a trail narrows significantly, but these usually clear out relatively quickly and towards the end of the race you may find yourself jogging through some lovely woods with just a few others running at the same pace nearby.

The cost of the races is just $5, or $35 for a season pass, which is far less than any other race I've ever signed up for. Although there are no water stations, there is often some form of snacks or drinks available at the finish. Whether there are snacks or not, many runners mill around after the races, chatting and waiting for friends to finish.

I missed the first race this fall, since Beth and I had just returned from our packrafting adventure/deathmarch late the previous night (actually, early that morning). So last night was my first race and actually just my second run in over a month as I've been fighting the aftermath of a nasty cold. I was actually quite pleased and surprised to see my time online - a bit under 40 minutes for 8.8K.

*As a side note these races show just how crazily athletic the people of Anchorage are in general. Late in my time in Boston, I came in 12th out of about 1200 runners in a 5K. Yesterday I was 36th out of just 97 runners, despite generally being in much better shape now.

Anyway, I love getting out once a week to do these runs. They're the perfect example of a benevolent government. Fortunately I get to reap the benefits of that beneficence year-round up here. Once the races end it will only be a few more weeks until my next weekly program, sponsored by the city, begins!

Packraft Adventure - The Maidenish Voyage

Over Labor Day weekend, Beth and I went on our first major packrafting adventure. Along with Chris, Bryn and Louis we headed out of Anchorage on Friday around noon and drove about 6 hours northeast to the town of Paxson (with some stops along the way). From Paxson we shuttled one car north to the finish and then drove east most of the way to the start before camping for the night. On Saturday morning we broke camp, drove the last 10 miles to the trailhead and started our trip.

Here's a map of our route. You'll want to click on it to get the full-sized version. Basically, the plan was to hike in the near the headwaters of Eureka Creek, then raft out (with one 4-mile portage) and onto the Delta River before reaching the car. This roughly followed the route of another group that we had read about online.

We were in the foothills of the Eastern Alaska Range, where Labor Day weekend comes as fall colors are at their peak and where winter is beginning to set in at the higher elevations. The first couple miles featured the only trail of the trip - an ATV trail which made for very easy walking...

...in places. But in other places the trail was alternately a pond, a stream and a beaver pond.

However, because of the planned packrafting Beth and I were both wearing sneakers instead of boots with waterproof socks underneath. The idea being that our feet were bound to get wet at some point, so the best thing was to wear shoes that wouldn't weigh 19 pounds once wet.

This proved to be a good choice, since shortly after we left the ATV trail we found ourselves crossing a fair-sized creek. For some reason, I got a major kick out of this - I guess because I felt like this was a real sign of how far off the beaten path we were going.

After we crossed the creek, we bashed our way uphill through a thick tangle of willow, alder, dwarf birch and more before things thinned out to scattered bushes and abundant blueberries. When things thinned out and we turned around we saw a pair of moose, including a big bull, that must have been just off of our path.

Unfortunately I didn't take any good pictures as we hiked over the top of a high plateau. We must've seen two dozen caribou over the next several miles, several of which Bella got to chase (fortunately they're so much faster than she is, especially with her pack on, so she couldn't chase them too far or bother them too much). We also saw a fat old porcupine, and I am happy to report that Bella did not get to chase it.

We also hiked nearly high enough to reach the snowline. It was drizzling on-and-off throughout the day and snow probably fell as low as 4700 feet. We topped out at around 4100, so although it was quite chilly it seemed like a moral victory to not get snowed on.

Anyway, we eventually descended and went around a couple of lakes before setting up camp for the night. Dinner consisted of freeze-dried food mixed with a half stick of butter as a calorie-booster, which actually made things pretty delicious.

Although it rained much of the night, it stopped in the morning as we were getting up and breaking camp, which was a welcome relief. As we set off hiking I took this picture back in the direction we had come from. We camped next to the shore of the lake in the background (left center of the picture), after having hiked down from the ridge in the far background from left-to-right on a route that is pretty much framed in this picture by the ridge in the intermediate ground.

We were up higher on day 2, which was reflected in the lack of major vegetation. This made the hiking easier, but cut down on the foliage. As you can see, it was a pretty drab day.

More rain set in as we came into view of the foot of the Eureka Glacier. I though this was going to be a beautiful picture of (L to R) Chris, Beth and Bryn hiking with the glacier in the background, but instead I think it does a good job of reflecting just how foreboding the weather was.

The doggos didn't seem to mind, though. They just raced around chasing ground squirrels and occasionally bigger game. I'll bet they covered twice the mileage we did during the hike.

After about an hour's hike we reached Eureka Creek. It was a fairly small stream, but the packrafts really don't take that much water to float. Still, there was a bit of butt-scraping in places, especially early on...

But before long some other streams joined Eureka Creek and with the steady current we were making fast time. The dogs chased along the banks as we averaged about 5 miles an hour downstream. The paddling was mostly pretty easy, and picking routes was largely about finding the deepest water as opposed to avoiding danger. Still, we did have one instance of swimming - unfortunately by the lone member of the group who doesn't own a drysuit. I will take Chris' word for it that the water was cold.

After a few hours of paddling, we reached our portage and hiked straight up from the river to higher ground as if the 25 degree slopes, thick brush and slippery mud were no big deal.

See. Is that the face of someone who minds a little bushwhacking? No way. Also, looking in the background by Chris' elbow you can see part of the reason for the portage. That rapid consisted of a drop that stretched from one bank to the other and would have easily flipped every one of our rafts.

In the end, though, the brush got really thick and the ground got really boggy and the sun started to set. Instead of making it back to the creek before camping we set up on a ridge for the night in the one piece of flat, clear, dry ground we could find. We were all pretty exhausted and within just a bit over an hour we were all in bed. It rained again overnight and then cleared. The temperature dropped enough that there was frost on the ground when we got up, but we were also rewarded with brilliant sunshine.

After breakfast (oatmeal with butter!) we set off towards the creek again, this time under much less ominous conditions than we'd had the previous day.

The bushwhacking was still pretty bad, though. I actually took the picture here because there was a bit less brush than other places, so you could see better.

We ended up following a pretty well established game trail out a ridge that looked as if it was going to plunge off of a cliff. But we kept following it under the assumption that caribou hadn't made this trail by repeatedly plunging to their deaths and were eventually rewarded with a steep but straightforward slope down to the water.

We put back in, and although the creek was no more treacherous to paddlers (still class 1 and 2 rapids) than the day before, it had become much more treacherous for the dogs to follow along the banks. Whereas the upper reaches had been fairly wide open, we were now in a canyon, with cliffs that frequently came right down to the waters' edge. This meant the dogs had to either run way uphill and go over the tops of the outcrops or swim around them. Bella hates swimming and will normally do her best to avoid it, but there were places on this route where she had no choice, which she clearly hated.

When we reached the Delta River, things opened up again and we took a bit of a lunch break. Bella was cold from the glacial waters and miserable from being afraid we would leave her and being forced to swim. And from falling off of a cliff. But at least she wasn't injured. She gladly took a huge chunk of swiss cheese and half a stick of butter (pretty standard fare for this trip, as you can see) as we held her in the sun and helped her to warm up.

The last part of the paddle - about 7 miles on the Delta River - was much more open and forgiving for the dog to run along the banks. It was quite pleasant for the paddlers, as well, with abundant sunshine and beautiful scenery.

There were no more rapids of note in this part of the paddle. Just a swift and steady of current carrying us back to our car. Amazingly, we didn't see another person the entire trip (with the exception of a couple of helicopters). With the sun out the shivers of the first two days seemed irrelevant. I was eager to get home at that point, but I also felt lucky to get out into such a beautiful place on a trip like this.