Trail of Blue Ice

Hey Tribe!

Rarely ever is the weather pleasant in Portage: it is either rainy, windy, cold, or all three, but never sunny and warm.  Well, there’s a first for everything and TheMother, Fly, and I happened to be in Portage during just such a weather anomaly.

Turnagain Arm

The Trail of Blue Ice has been on our “must hike” list for a few years now, but we’ve always put off the aptly named trail, because of lack of enthusiasm for hiking in rainy coldness.  However, it is an ideal trail for our Spain preparations, since we need to test our gear whilst hiking in rain, so we packed our packs, complete with gloves, polar fleece, ponchos, and rain jackets and headed south to Portage.

To our amazement, the day continued to be lovely even as we neared the notoriously tempestuous destination.  We parked at the visitor’s center, where a large iceberg stoically greeted us just off the rocky lakeshore.

Eagerly we began our hike.  The snowy mountains were made even more blindingly bright in the sunshine when set against the pure sky and I was glad to have both sunglasses and a wide brimmed hat.  We heard the booming, echoing report of an avalanche across the valley – not surprising with the heat of the day and the composition of the deeply layered snow that covered the glaciers and slopes.

Fly panted in the hot (50*F) temperature and greedily scooped mouthfuls of snow that clung to patches of the trail in shady places.  Scene supplanted scene as we easily trekked along on asphalt, dirt, gravel, and boardwalks. 

Our surroundings changed so frequently it would have been impossible to get bored, even for the most jaded of hikers.

Fancy arched bridges crossed merry streams that will be chocked full of mature salmon come late summer.

Campsites appeared periodically along the trail and we could smell campfires and delicious breakfasts being cooked as we quietly passed along the path.

Ok, we weren't always quiet: here Fly found a squirrel and barked eagerly at it to come play.

Our favorite section of the trail was a quiet, shady place where large trees grew and thick, vibrant green moss carpeted the ground.  Sunshine softly filtered down and gave a golden glow to the ceiling of branches, so that we stood in awe for several minutes.

A bit further and we stood at the base of an avalanche run.  It was easy to see layers of past avalanches that had cascaded tumultuously down and ended in a giant fan.  Fly was thrilled to clamber up onto the snowbank to cool her paws and quench her thirst, but I didn’t let her roam for fear of her accidentally falling into a hidden trench or some other avoidable danger.  Sorry, not sorry, I’m a killjoy.

Finally, we made it to the end of the trail where picnic benches around a lake greeted our weary legs.  We lunched on meat and cheese rolls and pringles and lounged on the wooden bench.  Fly took a wade into the lake, which turned into an impromptu swim when the bank dropped away sharper than she expected.

Rejuvenated by our picnic, we popped chocolate in our mouths (Fly got a morsel of her beef snack, not the chocolate) and turned back from whence we’d come to begin the return trek along the same trail.  The sights were familiar, but the mountains that had been behind us were now, obviously, in front and afforded us a different set of views.

Fly ran free along one glacial fed lake to chase some ducks in the sparkling water.  She found another squirrel that she was loath to leave behind as we resumed our homeward journey.

There were many more people along the trail during our return and everyone appeared to be appreciating the wonderful spring afternoon just as much as we were.  The great big iceberg, complete with a quaint little waterfall pouring off it’s side from the warmth of the day, greeted us in Portage Lake as we wandered back to the now crowded visitor parking lot; though we had greatly enjoyed our 14 mile round trip jaunt, we were very happy to remove our burdensome packs and call it a good day.

I would like to hike this trail again later in the summer, when the snow has melted from the mountains: the many glaciers that perch and hang from the peaks are uncovered from their snowy blankets and give credence to the name, Trail of Blue Ice.

April Snow

Hey Tribe,

Just a quick update on Alaska weather: it rained all day yesterday, which turned into snow sometime early morning.  I awoke to the sound of an angry scraper plowing down the road. 

Chunky, wet, blobs of snow have been ceaselessly falling all day.

Fly, ever the snow dog, is pleased to eat it and let the snow settle on her like a lacy mantle fit for a queen.

Her only regret is that she rubbed off her fur socks two weeks ago and thus her delicate footpads are tender to the chill.  She’s a tough lady though and won’t cower inside just because of a little coolness to her tootsies.

Catching treats like a pro.

My shrubs are less pleased and dip low with the unexpected burden of additional winter wealth.  Their leafy buds and tips are vibrant green against the dense snow, but I fear their vitality will be severely lessened after the day’s cold embrace.

Poor lilacs.

Branches have already succumbed to the weight of the liquid laden flakes and snapping sounds could be heard as Fly and I explored our winter wonderland this morning.

Fly listens to the crackle of brittle twigs and ice.

Springtime in Alaska is not for the faint of heart, nor for the impatient gardener, or shedding dog (thankfully Fly was wise enough to maintain her full fluff, so no shedding for her yet).  Let’s just hope April Blizzards do not kill May Flowers.

Packs and Shoes and Credentials, Oh My!

Hey Tribe,

Gear accumulation is underway as TheAunt, TheMother, and I prepare for our hike across Spain.  Choosing a pack was a big undertaking and several packs were considered, a few bought, a few returned, and it is possible we all now have what we will be using.  Shoes are another major dilemma for us at the moment – take care of your feet and your feet will take car of you!  The sleeping bags, blankets, or sheets decision not been put to rest yet (pun totally intended); the jury is also still out about ponchos vs rain jacket/pants.  Oh brother.

My pack full of all my gear and my shoes...for now.

I sent away for our credentials about a month ago and they arrived sooner than expected, so we are all set there.  Whew!  At least we can check one thing off our list.

TheAunt has been dutifully following a training schedule to ensure that her body is prepared for a lot of daily miles.  TheMother has been following suit.  I have slacked, preferring to sit on the couch and eat popcorn than spend quality time in my training shoes.  I will regret this.  I will amend my ways.  I promise.

TheMother and her fully loaded pack.

In that vein, TheMother, Fly, and I eagerly set forth Sunday evening on a hiking trail we believe will be similar to what we will encounter on our Camino.  It is 6 miles one way and has lovely Spring and Fall views of the riverbed and the surrounding snowcapped mountains (in the summer, leaves rudely obstruct the view).  I wrote about this trail last fall, after recovering from running a marathon.  Note to the wise, hiking so soon after that much running is not a stellar idea – or so it goes for my non-athletic body.

Fly and I had participated in our SAR team training all morning and afternoon.  The day was spectacularly bright and warm and enjoyable.  Mosquitoes are rare this time of year and the early hatch are the dumb, slow ones, so the day was especially enjoyable without the presence of the vampires that will soon plague Alaskans.  We savor these days; as such, TheMother and I didn’t hesitate when we jauntily set out for a lengthy hike in the early evening.

We met several people at the outset of our journey, with their happy, long-tongued dogs, heading in our opposite direction, but soon we had what felt like the entire river valley to ourselves.

It must have been a ridiculous sight for those passerby: two women with larger than necessary packs strapped to their backs.  Most trail users were equipped with little more than the ubiquitous cell phone and there we were with gear for a month’s travels abroad.  Our purpose was kept to ourselves, though we received a few side-eyed judgmental inquiring glances, nobody was brave enough to question our sanity and we merrily traipsed along the trail, testing out our gear and pack setup (which worked wonderfully, I might add).

TheMother tests her balance skills on the trail.

Temptation whispered for us to hike the entire 6-mile trail, but was wisely over-ruled by the timepiece on TheMother’s wrist at mile 4.25, where we reluctantly decided to make a U-turn.  Looming rain clouds were not our concern, since we carried wet weather supplies in our out-of-place packs, nor was the amount of daylight, since the sun has returned to give merit to the Land of the Midnight Sun nomenclature – but TheMother had other plans for her evening at home, so rotate in our tracks we did and were mightily glad of it once we finally reached our parked truck.  8.5 miles in one evening was enough for our first training hike – a successful gear trial hike.