Douglas Island Camp Out and Hike (summary soon to come)

Juneau's Rainforests

It is a well-known but frequently overlooked fact that Juneau is in a temperate rain forest. If you type “Juneau” into Google images, most of the photos portray Juneau as a beautiful coastal town nestled amongst jagged peaks under brilliant blue skies with ships floating placidly on calm, clear water. While the days depicted in the photos are phenomenal and worthy calendar pictures, they do not accurately represent Juneau’s climate. The lush forests don’t just sprout out of rock and sand. Rather they are fed by the 9.51 inches of rain between July and August. For Durango, July and August are part of the rainy season, during which we receive 2.9 inches of rain. A slight difference. Although the rain is more than I’m used to, it hasn’t slowed down my love of hiking and exploring. Granted I can’t see much past my own feet when I reach the top of a mountain, there is something to be said for the calm and comforting feel of low-hanging clouds cloaking the forests in a gentle mist. And, I can vouch that Arc-teryx and Grundens make fantastic rain gear. The pictures above are from one of my most recent hikes up Mount Roberts.
Yesterday, I met up with the Colliers (Maude, Mary, JB, Dave, and Sydney) in downtown Juneau for a bite to eat. The Colliers all lived on Salsbury in Birmingham near my grandparents at one time or another. They were touring Alaska aboard the Ryndam cruise ship. Upon arrival, Maude, Mary, JB, and Sydney took the Best of Juneau excursion, which included a trip to the Mendenhall Glacier, a salmon bake, and whale watching, during which they witnessed a playful baby Humpback whale and a pod of orcas eating a seal. Dave opted for a dog sledding tour but was weathered down when the clouds didn’t cooperate. I’m so glad I had the opportunity to meet up them and look forward to keeping in touch in the future!

Mountain Sledding and Ramez

Like many tourism companies, we are feeling the effects of America’s newfound frugality as tourists opt for cheaper excursions rather than spending thousands on a couple hours of dogsledding with the family. In fact, for the past couple of weeks, it seems as if both the economy and the weather have teamed up. On days of bluebird skies, balmy temperatures, and magnificent views, very few, if any, tourists sign up for a dog sled ride. When we are finally booked full, the weather decides to engulf us in a cloud and prevent the helicopters from reaching our remote dog camp. The good news is that this leaves me with ample time to partake in one of my favorite activities: reading. Over the past month, I’ve had the opportunity to blaze through multiple books including Daughter of Fortune by Isabel Allende, The Runaway Jury by John Grisham, Fire by Sebastian Junger, The Voice of My Heart by Gilbert Tuhabonye, Addicted to Danger by Jim Wickwire and Dorothy Bullit, and Alaska’s Wolf Man by Jim Rearden just to name a few. Of course after awhile, I just don’t idle well. Days of minimal activity finally led Seth, another musher, and I to venture to the top of one of the surrounding ridges for a little sledding.
The rest of the day’s tours had just been cancelled. Seth, Matt, and I were moseying about and tinkering in the dog yard in an effort to pass the time. I proposed that we take one of the sleds up the one avalanche-free slope for a bit of sledding. Next thing I know, Matt has the sled hooked up to the snowmachine (I would call it a snowmobile like the rest of the country, but Alaskans are quick to ostracize a person for being “unalaskan”, which includes calling a snowmachine a snowmobile), and we’re racing up the mountainside. Due to the steepness of the slope and the gutlessness of the snowmachine, we make it barely a quarter of the way up before the snowmachine starts to slide back down. We unhook the sled, and with Seth sitting and me driving, we cruise back down to dog camp. Thrilling, yes, but not as satisfying as I’d hoped. We had to go farther. Matt again tugged us up as far as he could with us running next to the sled, trying to assist the snowmachine. When we unhooked the sled, Seth and I began pushing and pulling the sled farther up. I must admit, I wasn’t intending on going all the way to the top, but once we surpassed the cloud ceiling, we really had no idea how far we had gone. We just kept trudging up the slope, resting every 20 feet or so. At the time, I was reading a mountaineering novel about K2, Everest, and other challenging peaks called Addicted to Danger, so as we slowly lugged the sled up, I was imagining the expeditions of the crazy climbers of the Himalayas. I have a new appreciation for their stamina and toughness. Finally, in a cloud, we reach the top. Careful not to step out on cornices, we briefly looked over the other side (just more cloud), and then prepared the sled for our return. With me videoing from the seat and Seth driving, we hurled down the slope, slicing through the clouds and arrived back at dog camp. For our long and arduous climb, we were rewarded with a very thrilling, minute and half long ride. It was definitely worth it. The video to the right filmed the entire trip, although it is mostly just voices and a white abyss. Our sledding venture is a highlight. One of the pictures shows the slope we came down, but does little to show the size.
The next day, the weather and tourism finally cooperated, and an Egyptian film crew arrived to film an episode for the popular reality TV show, Ramez Around the World, which will be aired in Egypt during Ramadan. It was my big break into show biz. I showed Ramez around the camp (quickly tidying up my tent as the camera crew came barging in), introduced him to the dogs, took him dog sledding, and then had a mock race against him (of which I won). The entire time, he would translate all I’d say and explain it to his fans in Egypt. I’m sure I looked pretty ridiculous as I stood awkwardly next to him with a microphone stuffed in my sports bra (my third boob as it was called) and wearing week-old dog clothes. We’ll just say I looked authentic. Overall it was an incredibly fun experience and a good change of pace. I loved working with the crew, and Ramez was quite a character. The pictures are of Ramez and I and the camera crew.

A Couple Memorable Moments

Happy July! Glacier life is in full swing, complete with typical Juneau summer weather: rain. We’ve had a fair number of weathered or raining days up at the glacier, but that doesn’t seem to dampen the spirits of the tourists. Kids dressed in jeans and sweatshirts still make snow angels and adults still tote their thousand dollar cameras and photograph every nook and cranny of the glacier.

A few days ago, I gave a ride to one of the most cheerful and uplifting couples I’ve met. The two were from India on a month long adventure in the United States. At the risk of over-generalizing, I must say that most Indian groups that visit the glacier are reserved, terrified of the dogs, and somewhat demanding. However, this couple was incredibly friendly, loved the dogs, and easy to entertain. The husband was a social worker for an organization established by Mother Theresa. Every second of the tour, he was thanking God for such a beautiful day, beautiful dogs, and beautiful company. At the end of the tour, he insisted that I come visit them in India and left me with all their information. Even if it was ten years down the road, he told me to contact them for a home to stay. Just remind him that I was the musher from their dog sled trip in Alaska, and he would remember every moment of it. Their happiness was contagious.

My helicopter flight down from the glacier this past time was one of the most incredible yet. Jag, one of the main pilots, took the usual route down the glacier to Juneau, but instead of flying hundreds of feet above in a more or less straight shot, he followed close to the cliffs and dropped down close to the ground. Along the center of the glacier is a line of rocks called a medial moraine. From the air, the rocks look no larger than a dog. But as Jag showed us first hand, the rocks are in fact enormous boulders sometimes as large as a bus. He quickly dropped from the sky to just 25 feet above the ice explaining the geologic processes while we hurtled at 120 miles per hour just above the surface of the glacier. When the glacier dropped off into the trees, he looked over his shoulder and said, "I'm really not supposed to do this, but let's turn back and take a look at the front of the glacier." He grinned, then banked the helicopter into a tight turn so that the average passenger (like myself) felt the gripping weight of g forces pulling at their bodies. We made a small circle and flew right next to the vibrant blue, jagged surface of the bottom of the glacier. The dramatic view will forever be etched in my mind.

On my days off, I’ve found a rambunctious soccer crowd at the Silverbow Restaurant with whom to enjoy the World Cup. Unfortunately, the United States is out, but I’ve still loved following it nonetheless!