Skagway

The time for travel has begun. Currently, I’m in Skagway with Jennifer and all the dogs, and we are planning on leaving this evening to begin the drive back to Michigan. Already there is a dusting of snow on the surrounding hills, so I wouldn’t be surprised if we hit snow in the passes on the way back. To start off the long trek back to Michigan, John, Justin, Brian, and I packed up the 39 NK dogs plus a couple of canine hitchhikers and drove to the ferry terminal on Wednesday night. The dogs and I would be taking the slow ferry through Haines and over to Skagway. Around midnight, John and Justin drove us onto the ferry, dropped the trailer, and then said final goodbyes. The dogs and I spent the night on the ferry and arrived in Haines at five the following morning. While the dogs slept soundly down in the car terminal, I joined the masses of ferry backpackers in the solarium. The solarium is essentially a large covered porch on the top deck with rows of reclining lawn chairs beneath individual heat lamps. I claimed a lawn chair, pulled out my sleeping bag, and peacefully slept until our arrival in Haines. After a brief, one-hour stop in Haines, the ferry continued on to Skagway where Jennifer met us with the truck. Jennifer had already had an exciting morning, blowing out a tire on the drive to the terminal. Hopefully, the flat tire isn’t an indication of the upcoming drive.
Jen and I dropped off the dogs at the Skagway Alaska Excursions camp then rushed out to Whitehorse, YT to have the truck serviced. Two new tires and a mechanic’s warning later, Jen and I were back on the road to Skagway and crossing our fingers that all is in tip-top shape for the long haul ahead. Right now, the leaves are changing and the nights are cold, which made the drive absolutely beautiful (and visions of sled dogs dance in my head).
This morning, while Jen is at work, I’ve been busy bopping around town and running errands. Since today is the last day the cruise ships are in town, all the stores are having huge bargain sales. As many of you know, I’ve never been much of a shopper, but get me out there with great sales and I have trouble holding back. I caught myself almost buying a 2009 calendar just because it was 80% off. Rein it in Ryne. I’m proud to say that I only bought $6 worth of chocolate (go figure). I must note that the chocolate had cute names like Bear Turds and Crab Crap. I’m hoping to bring it all the way back to the Outside (aka the lower 48 states- I’m trying to be Alaskan), but it will all depend on my self-control. Hi, my name is Ryne, and I’m a recovering chocoholic. Wait… perhaps not recovering.

John Muir Cabin

How glorious a greeting the sun gives the mountains! – John Muir

At the risk of jinxing the good weather, I must say, the weather has been incredible! For the past week the sun has been shining, and the temperature has been perfect: warm enough for humans, cool enough for dogs. Yesterday, I had the chance to fully appreciate and enjoy the good weather when Chrissy, Brian, Tim, Mike, Amanda, Heath Prancer and I hiked up to the John Muir cabin for a night of camping. The John Muir cabin is one of the many Forest Service cabins throughout the Tongass National Park available for rent. Nestled on the side of a hill, next to the top of a rise, smack dab in the middle of the muskeg fields sits the John Muir cabin, overlooking the sea and many small islands off the coast of Juneau. From the back, one can see the surrounding peaks and glaciers. The cabin itself is a quaint little structure with a south-facing porch, wood stove, bunk beds, and spiral staircase that accesses the loft. It’s slightly ironic that the cabin that we camped in was nicer than all my summer lodgings.
At eight o’clock on Friday night, after a day of tours and a quick stop at the convenience store for dinner, Mike, Chrissy, Brian, Tim, Prancer and I began our hike up to the John Muir cabin. We were a vagabond crew as we marched up with sleeping bags, a guitar, and gear in our hands and dangling from our school bags. The start of the three and a half mile trail climbed up from Auke Bay through dense spruce and hemlock for approximately one mile. By eight o’clock it was dark, so the few with headlamps graciously shared the much-needed light with the rest of us. However, as we turned off the main trail and started to gradually ascend up towards the cabin, the trail traversed meadows of muskeg. Muskeg is a marshy land with smaller, sicklier trees, and open fields with shallow, muddy ponds. For the entire two miles through the muskeg, a trail crew had constructed a series of boards and planks to cover the spongy ground. Since the night was clear and the trees were thin, the moonlight reflected off the planks and allowed us to hike without our headlamps. At the risk of sounding ‘granola’, it was magical. Of course, that’s not to say that we didn’t occasionally fall off the boardwalk only to be sucked into the surrounding muddy ground.
After an hour and a half of rapid hiking (we had a drill sergeant in lead), we finally arrived at the cabin and were welcomed by two of our friends. For the rest of the night we played Jenga, talked, and relaxed around the campfire. Mike, who had hauled his guitar all the way up, even serenaded us for a couple hours. It was a classic camping scene. Being such a clear night, we’d hoped to catch a glimpse of the aurora borealis but by two and three in the morning, we gave up and went to bed. We probably should have just checked beforehand to see if the northern lights were even scheduled to make an appearance (which we later found out, they weren’t).
The next morning, we woke up early, enjoyed a warm sunrise, and then basked in sun, soaking up the rays in our translucent, Vitamin D deprived bodies. I’m surprised that none of the helicopters landed, mistaking the sun’s reflection off our skin for a distress signal. Since, as many know, I don’t last long sunbathing, I took off for a short hike around the cabin. Prancer and I tromped through the muskeg meadows, climbing small rises, and trying to find the best viewpoint. After an hour, all the small fields started to look the same, and I realized that I wasn’t quite sure of my location. Luckily, due to the sponginess of the marsh, evidence of our passage was still visible to lead us back.
Around noon, we decided that we couldn’t postpone reality any longer, and left the solitude and quiet of the cabin (it’s amazing how well you sleep when there aren’t 150 dogs nearby). I’d have to say, the campout was a highlight of the summer. There’s a reason John Muir said, “To the lover of wilderness, Alaska is one of the most wonderful countries in the world.”

Later that evening, we celebrated Chrissy’s birthday with a massive cupcake from the Booyah Grill, which you have to order two days in advance due to its enormity. I’d say it was a good day.

Hillbillies

For the past week, the NK dogs and I have been giving tours at the Juneau branch of Alaska Excursions on Douglas Island. Running on solid ground has definitely rejuvenated the dogs, and their energy is infectious; however, I think we’re all ready to wrap up the season. During the tours, sixteen dogs pull a cart twice around a ½ mile loop. Since dog camp is located in the thick rainforest of Tongass National Park, the guests don’t seem to realize that we repeat the same loop, but the dogs sure do. Within one tour slot, we can cycle as many as 48 guests through the many demonstrations and stations involved in the tour. The tour often bears a strange resemblance to herding cattle.

Currently, I’m living right in dog camp in a little four-wall canvas tent complete with a small, square-bellied wood stove. The tent is imprinted with a smell of must and wet harness (it was used to dry harnesses before I moved in). Though it is outfitted with a wooden floor and base siding, the tent still mysteriously leaks from some unknown crack and all my gear needs to be in totes or lifted off the ground. A broken green bucket, bicycle helmet, lines of black pipe, and a fire pit filled with nails, cans, and beer bottles are littered in my front “lawn”. Combine that with the crooked stove pipe and missing porch tarp and even hillbillies would be embarrassed to call my little tent their home. What I can say for the little structure is that it sure does heat up when I get the stove going. And, I am proud to have made the place somewhat comfortable with a small carpet, table, real bed, and makeshift dresser. Living the dream. It’s a good thing I love dogs and the outdoors.

Yesterday, I explained my living situation to my dad, and he came up with a great idea to make my next million. A TLC special series: Life Swap. My cousin, Catie, is currently living a successful life in Mountain Brook, Alabama working as the recruiting coordinator for a law firm. Now imagine, Catie living in my humble abode, scooping dog poop, and wearing the same pair of Carhartts for days at time. Perhaps even better, imagine me living in the South, showering once a day, entertaining business folk, and dressing….dare I say…stylishly? And I must note, I only brought two sets of street clothes with me to Alaska, a point most of my friends noticed surprisingly quickly and find incredibly funny. Anyway, if anyone knows a producer, shoot this idea by them. Catie doesn’t know it yet, but we’re going to be stars.

Ok, back to real life. Last Friday, my good friend Chrissy arranged for John, Brian, and me to board the Sea Princess cruise ship and watch Libby Riddles Iditarod performance. Libby Riddles is the first woman to have won the Iditarod in 1985, and she now makes her money giving talks on Princess cruise ships and selling her books. One of the most popular is the children book, Danger the Dog Yard Cat. Before we watched her performance, we were treated to the all you can eat buffet, which I must say was a highlight. It was German night, so meat and schnitzels filled every station. DE-lish. After my third round of desserts, we somehow managed to navigate through the layers and corridors of the ship to the lecture hall. Libby did a phenomenal job and was incredibly inspirational. I have to watch myself or I’ll end up buying a kennel and signing over my life to dog sledding.