Hey Tribe,
In preparation for my trip to Africa, I’ve been trying out my gear to make sure it is going to serve me well on Kilimanjaro. My new, crazy bright, green daypack needed a trial run, so TheMother, Fly, and I decided to make our yearly visit to the top of Bodenburg Butte.
We prefer the West trail side of the Butte, because it is well groomed and has stairs. The other side is a steeper trail and usually very dusty. It was a marvelous surprise to arrive and find that there was a brand new, enormous, paved parking lot put in across from the tiny, old, gravel lot that served us for so many years. The new lot location is directly across the street from the trailhead, so visitors no longer have to walk down the street and around the corner to find the trailhead. How convenient.
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| Old parking lot. |
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| New parking lot - pretty swank. |
Fly has been working on her leash skills and I knew we would encounter people (and dogs) on this popular Mat-Su trail, so she was leashed on her flexi-lead for the entire hike. She is doing very well at not tugging at the end of the lead and accepting that she must walk with us on the trail instead of running free off trail hunting creatures.
We met a few people we knew along the hike – like I said, it’s a popular local activity – so our average hiking time was slow, but enjoyable. There are several informational signs along the path now, which were fun to read, but also made me wish for the old days when this was just a little local hike, not a tourist destination.
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| Gum log - totally gross, but I couldn't look away either. |
Since we had started early, we did not run into too many people going up the stairs. I love seeing all the purple/blue bellflowers along the trail. They look so delicate and hardy at the same time. Most folks stick to the trails, so the wildflowers are not trampled preserved and can be enjoyed along the way.
After the majority of the stairs, the trees no longer grow, and the top of the hill is rather bald – with a rocky outcropping and a lot of glacier silt and dust. The section just before the top always reminds me of Maine, or some seaport on the East Coast. I’ve never been to Maine, but I imagine it is like this section of the Butte, with its sandy (dusty) paths, rope trail markers, and cold gusts of wind.
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| Not the top, don't get too excited yet. |
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| Like sand dunes or something, right? |
It is nearly always windy at the top of the Butte. Today was one of those rare, unexpected, windless days; I was glad to not be mercilessly windswept with frigid air blowing off the Knik glacier. That glacier, by the way, is captivating from the Butte. It lies low, but practically glows with blue intensity.
The other dominant feature seen from the top is Pioneer Peak. It looms large and seemingly close; it is the background for nearly every single group photo and selfie that is taken on the rocks on top of the Butte. Do an image search for “Butte Alaska” and you will see that I’m right.
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| Pioneer (cloud decapitated) Peak |
While up at the top, I looked over and remembered another trail that I had read about, but never attempted. We would pass the turn for the trailhead on our return drive home, so I asked TheMother if she felt up for another hike. She agreed, though with hesitation as she eyeballed the sky and noted the darkening clouds in the direction of our next destination. Undaunted, we descended.
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| We're headed over there to that rain (below Fly's mouth). |
The only noteworthy event during our stairway backtracking was a brief skirmish with an aggressive a poorly trained dog. Rather, I should say, a poorly trained, very animated dog. It was on a short 6ft leash and was pulling hard in its excitement to be out on adventure. The red faced teenage girl attached to the other end of the leash was frustrated with the dog’s exuberant behavior and kept jerking and pulling on the leash and shouting for it to calm down and behave. The stairway was narrow and we had to pass, so I led the way with Fly right at my heels – the dog lunged at us, tail wagging, and pulled the girl face first toward us, knocking a little boy over in the process. I stopped to catch the boy as he tumbled toward me and began helping him to his feet. The teen urchin, recovering her own footing, rudely snapped at me: “Just go! Keep walking.” So, having set the little boy safely planted back on his feet, I turned around and proceeded down the stairs, Fly calmly in tow; as I did, I commented to TheMother, loudly enough for the group of people on the stairs above and below us to hear my thoughts: if people can’t control their dogs, then they shouldn’t bring them out onto public trails and how extremely rude and mannerless that impudent brat was. This was, of course, meant not for TheMother, but for the group whom I guessed, correctly, was the rest of the wench’s family. Her mother made some sort of excuse, saying the dog didn’t get out much, but I was unwilling to excuse her nasty daughter’s unjustifiable behavior.
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| Be a good girl, like Fly! |
Down the road, we easily found the unassuming trailhead for Rippy trail. It is in the Jim lakes area, along the Knik river. I spent much of my childhood here, but had never discovered this trail. It is probable that it is a relatively new "hiking" trail – developed for the growing population of upstanding residents.
The trail is actually an old ATV path. By my count, there are at least 4 bait stands in trees along the trail, but there are, without a doubt, more than what I saw. So, know that this is still the land of bear hunting.
Rain fell in short bursts, but we didn’t get very damp under the tree canopy as we cruised along the undulating trail that was dappled in the rain-filtered sunlight. The Devil’s Club bushes gave an atmosphere of mystery and it was a very lovely hike through the woods. We had to pick our way across three snowmelt streams, but they were easily navigated and shallow enough to not cause us any alarm.
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| TheMother walks with the Devil's Club |
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| Devil's Club (Oplopanax horridus) leaf. |
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| Evil thorns underneath leaves and along stems. They hurt, yo. |
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| Produces these red berries that the bears eat. |
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| Not to be confused with Cow Parsnip leaves and flowers, as seen here. |
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| Fly models Cow Parsnip (Heracleum maximum). |
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| No spines! But has a photosensitive chemical that can cause a burn-like rash on some folk's skin. It doesn't affect me, whew. |
About halfway through the hike, there is a campsite/overlook that has the most spectacular view of the lower Knik river valley and is the primary reason I'd wanted to do this hike.
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| Glorious! |
Our journey did seem to stretch out longer than we had expected as the trees changed from birch to black spruce and we started to get a little fatigued before we had reached the bridge that is the end of the trail. We decided that if the bridge wasn’t around the next bend, we would turn back - but as any good story would have it, around the next curve sat the bridge! The industrial looking steel bridge stretched across a rambunctiously foamy creek and looked out of place there in the middle of the otherwise quiet woods.
We crossed, found a neat campsite with a decent rock wall for climbing, played a bit at the mossy bank of the creek, and then made our way back over the bridge to head toward home.
As the rocky trail climbed back up the side of the mountain, and the light began to dim, we heard the cry of a hound ahead of us.
It barked and bayed, as if it was afraid and needed to make noise for bravery.
We thought it heard or smelt us coming and didn’t know what we were.
The mystery dog kept in front of us – though we expected to come upon it around every next bend, its cries always seemed to keep ahead of us, just out of sight.
Eventually, we passed the mournful sound.
It was up on the mountainside, off the trail; the best we could figure, hunters had tied their dog and gone off on some excursion.
We found their 4-wheeler trail, so I was confident it wasn’t some poor creature that had gotten tangled and was stuck alone in the woods.
Both of us were weary by the time we had carefully re-crossed the three streams and slowly made our way back to the truck, which was waiting for us, alone in the empty gravel parking lot. We had tackled two hikes, for a total of 6 miles, and were a little wet and a lot satisfied.
