Caroline – Page 80

Rafting The Alsek – Canada To Alaska Day 14

June 29, 2012 JWise Photo of the Day, Travels

Caroline and John Wise at the end of rafting the Alsek River running from the Yukon Territory, British Columbia, and Alaska to the Pacific Ocean

If you would like to read this story sequentially, starting with Day 1 – Click Here!

Chapped, worn, dirty, bitten, and on more than one occasion wet, cold, nervous, excited, and astonished. This is it, the last day on the Alsek River, a bittersweet moment. There’s an awkwardness to finding the vibe on a river trip, as there are new routines, new people, and an environment that stands large and new right before all of your senses. By the time this last day comes along, we have found our stride and are certainly not ready to leave. But we are near the end of the river, to go further would mean venturing into the Pacific Ocean, next stop, Russia, maybe China!

The forest carpet hangs dangling over the edge where the river has washed away the supporting soil below it. On the Alsek River in Alaska

Before we leave the river, we have one more set of rapids and a few miles to run; we savor every moment. Shortly before reaching our takeout, we pass these cut banks where the river, over time has encroached on the forest and has removed the supporting soil. Interestingly, though, we have an incredible opportunity to see just how plants are able to weave together the soil to create the glue that binds the forest floor into a cohesive unit. This is why there is so much risk of flooding and mudslides following a severe fire, especially on mountainsides. In some areas on the cut bank, trees continue to grow at odd angles, appearing as though they could fall into the river at any time, and yet the carpet of plants holds firm, and the trees live on.

Our pilot has arrived and is ready to whisk us to the town of Yakutat, Alaska

The flat gravel bank looms large as it becomes apparent that it would be where we are going to make our exit. The emotions of the moment rage but have to be contained as we have lots to do. We immediately start emptying the rafts of everything before we open the valves and start to deflate them. A local family arrives with trailers being pulled behind their all-terrain vehicles – known as quads. They help us load up our personal gear, and within an hour of landing, we are following a primitive trail through the woods to a landing strip. We don’t have to wait long before our bush pilot arrives in his small plane. Joining us on our flight out of Dry Bay, Alaska, today are a couple of guys whose original plans had been to backpack the Alsek but were foiled by the immensity of the Tweedsmuir glacier. Lucky for them, a passing helicopter took pity on their portage attempt and hauled them out. Security out here doesn’t seem to be much of an issue; there were no full-body scanners or even X-rays. In quick time, we were rumbling down the gravel runway and peeling away from the trees.

The Brabazon mountain range in the distance as we fly out of Dry Bay, Alaska on our way up the coast to Yakutat

We are flying parallel to the coast, heading north to Yakutat. In the distance, we can just make out the Brabazon Range. It is a solemn moment up here in the sky, watching the world we have known for the previous two weeks disappear. Lucky Shaun, though, has stayed back at Dry Bay; he will accompany the rafts on a different flight back to Haines Junction, where he will turn around and do this all over again with a different group. I dream of being a boatman in another life.

Like the ground that we will soon land on, reality comes crashing into view that our journey down the Alsek River is over.

In a few minutes, we’ll land in Yakutat. I have no interest in being in “Yak,” but it is where we must land to catch our next flight. We’ll stay overnight, as my original plans had been filled with the excitement that we would have one more day in the wild to allow us to acclimate to reality before reentering the alternative reality called urban life. Getting a hot shower also seemed like a great idea, but the foreignness of others and the weirdness of being in a hotel were all too overwhelming. Tomorrow morning, we will board a flight to Anchorage, where we’ll have the better part of the day exploring before leaving Alaska at midnight. The memories of where we just were are laden with emotion, life once again has taken a turn and connected me in ways to our Earth I never could have imagined prior to embarking on such an amazing journey.

Rafting The Alsek – Canada To Alaska Day 7

June 22, 2012 JWise Photo of the Day, Travels

Caroline Wise reading the paper early in the morning while taking care of business in Kluane National Park Yukon, Canada

Reading the Chilkat Valley News out in the wild is a solo experience, the only real negative being that you have to read the same edition every day. This lone paper was our reading material while visiting the facilities; the only delivery in these parts is via helicopter. Your next question might be, so what does the local paper have to tell us we may not already know? Well, for starters, there was a recent explosion of dandelions. Nursery owner Toni Smith of Haines said of the problem, “It’s horrendous.” Vinegar seems to be the all-natural weed killer in these parts. In other big news, the end of a three-year study came to a conclusion with results showing that 7.1 million eulachons, a smelt-like fish, had returned to the Chilkoot River. The study was administered by the Takshanuk Watershed Council for the Chilkoot Indian Association. Apparently, this was great news for the locals as eulachon are known as, “Tlingit penicillin,” and it’s not every fish in the wild that gets that honor. As for the other part of the photo featuring my wife, tell me some of you weren’t curious as to where this was taken care of when on a whitewater rafting trip.

A grizzly bear swimming across the Alsek River in Kluane National Park Yukon, Canada

When the previous photo was taken, we had already been awake for an hour and were the only ones wandering about. After Caroline finished her business we walked over towards the kitchen to start the fire with hopes our camp would start to shake itself awake and we could get our first cup of coffee. As I got the fire going, I thought I heard something on my left. I looked over to see a log floating in the distance. There, I heard it again! This time, I saw that the “something” was not a log; it was a snorting grizzly bear swimming directly toward Caroline and me. Mesmerized and for a moment uncertain about which way to go or how much noise to start making, we hesitated. At that time, I could see that the bear was going to be picked up by the current and would not be able to make it directly to our shore. As the Grizz was jettisoned downstream, some of the others in our group started emerging from their tents. Caroline stealthily went over to tell them to peer into the river. On my right, Bruce and Shaun also were moving about. I got their attention as quietly as I could and gave them the signal that a bear was nearby. No, the signal is not one of turning around and pointing to my backside, suggesting I had done in my pants what Caroline did in the can. The guys asked in hushed tones, “Where did you see it?” It is in the river on the other side of the tents.

Behold the mighty grizzly bear in Kluane National Park Yukon, Canada

We waited for what felt like minutes. And then there he was, about 50 yards from camp and too close for comfort, but we remained quiet. He lumbered up the beach, paying no attention to us until he reached the area adjacent to our toilet, where Caroline had been sitting less than 45 minutes earlier! It is just on the other side of these bushes that today’s first photo was taken. This big old bear then started to shake the water from his coat. Talk about a moment of Wow! And fear. Fear because there were still some campers in their tents between the bear and us who were watching his moves trying to decide if we needed to start making serious noise. He sniffed around, turned, and continued on his way into a side canyon. Okay, now I’m ready for my Wheaties.

The rapids of Lava North in Kluane National Park Yukon, Canada

After breaking camp, we had a relatively short ride down the river to a pullout where the boatmen needed to scout our next dangerous move: Lava North. Named after the mother of gnarly rapids, Lava Falls in the Grand Canyon, this churn of ice water is not for the timid. After much deliberation and finger-pointing, the boatmen apparently have a bead on which track we’ll be traveling as they round us up to head back to the rafts. Once there, it is time to suit up. Packed away in one of the rafts was a bag of dry suits, each one tagged with a passenger’s name. We are warned to be gentle with these fragile life-savers; if they tear, they won’t seal, and that will not be good should we find ourselves in the tumult. The guides are serious about putting these on right, serious that we pay attention to, and serious when they say this rapid can kill, and it has. We struggle to get our limbs through tight fittings, but after some rolling around and grunting, we are finally suited up and ready to conquer Lava North.

A wave kicking up in the rapid known as Lava North in Kluane National Park Yukon, Canada

I would love to share photos with you taken while in the rapid, but that can’t happen because we were holding on for dear life as we skirted the Monster Hole and slid by the Haystack Wave on a path that took us straight down the middle of Lava North. The tension was high as Shaun had the lead position; he made it through without a hitch. Next up was Martha, right on track as she safely guided her raft and passengers to the other side of this beast. We are last with Bruce, the cleanup crew now with nothing to do but pass over Lava as safely as the others before us. The river is pumping, and we are racing full bore ahead. We are going so fast that the markers I spotted while onshore as the boatmen were scouting are not able to be seen. The scale of our environment overwhelms the senses until we are pressed deep into reality. The reality of being so very small on such very large water. What looked almost quaint from above now looks incomprehensible from down here. Bruce hollers, “Did you see that hole?” Har, it wasn’t a hole; it was the pit of doom. When we passed that Monster Hole, it looked as though the river dropped over six feet and nearly disappeared before the water crawled up the other side to lose momentum and crash back onto itself. I’m sure that hole is a great place to get a raft stuck as it violently flips and flops to disgorge itself of passengers and contents before spitting out the shreds of what had been a raft. And then, before we know it, we are on the other side of Lava North, and the water is starting to calm. Phew!

Caroline R., Carol and Harris, and Bruce Keller in dry suits after running Lava North in Kluane National Park Yukon, Canada

Drysuits get hot in the sun, and when they do, they inflate. Every so often, we had to break the neck seal to allow the hot air to escape. By the time we get far enough downriver to pull over for lunch and get out of the rubber gear, we are close to overheating. The boatmen encourage us to enjoy the protection the dry suits offer and to immerse ourselves in the river. We all do. Then, the adventurous are shown a place on the tributary we have paddled up to where they can easily enter the river and float downstream through some fast-moving water. I pass, certain I’d miss the pullout, and enter the Alsek, never to be seen again.

At the confluence of a side tributary and the Alsek River in Kluane National Park Yukon, Canada

The unobstructed view of our mid-day sojourn off the Alsek River. We’ll spend a couple of hours here just chilling out, enjoying the perfect day, happy that we weren’t eaten by the bear or Lava North.

Glacial ice picked out of the stream off Alsek River in Kluane National Park Yukon, Canada

After lunch, some of the others napped while Caroline and I explored; this is a little something she found. Glacial ice that had been floating downstream. To the best of our map reading ability, it appears that the tributary we have stopped at is a flow coming from Fisher Glacier that is north of us and out of sight. The real beauty found in these sculptures is lost in the photograph. They are difficult to find the perfect angle to show you, they are even more of a problem to hold with already cold hands. Looking like glass art, there is the inclination to want to stroke its sensuous curves and soft features until the freezing ice starts to do the same to your hands, and a dull ache sets in.

A swallowtail butterfly on shore near the Alsek River in Kluane National Park Yukon, Canada

A swallowtail takes a break from pollination duties, landing long enough for me to get one almost reasonable photo. A few minutes earlier a skittish ptarmigan was moving about, but he was having nothing to do with a busy guy trying to snap pictures of everything that moved and didn’t move.

A waterfall in the cliff next to our rest stop in Kluane National Park Yukon, Canada

Our afternoon break is nearly over; the tables that had been brought out for lunch are being put away. We sweep the beach to ensure we are not leaving anything behind. This is especially important where wildlife is concerned as if bears identify locations as being good foraging areas and then equate humans with those food sources, all of a sudden that bear gets a case of the smarts putting two-and-two together and us in danger. Scoured and clean, boats packed, passengers and boatmen ready to get on board, we push off. Our campsite is not too far away, just some miles downriver near the foot of the mountain seen four photos above. Feeling refreshed and energized by our encounters with the cold water earlier, Caroline and I opt not to put on our waterproof layer or the rubber gear for the rest of the river day. Instead, we are in shorts and shirts and ready for whatever water might come our way.

The view from Blue Lagoon campsite in Kluane National Park Yukon, Canada

We were good up until the turn in the river when the shadows bore down on us. Oh, it was easy out in the sun; after being splashed by the small rapids, we warmed quickly. Bruce warned us that we had one more large set of rapids yet to deal with and thought we might want to throw on our rubber gear; he was right. Good thing, too, because that water came right up and over with some mighty splashing action. Also, on the way to camp, we stopped next to a gravel bank and collected firewood. Shaun has rafted this river more than any other in his career and has a pretty good read on what we’ll find as we move downriver. He thought we’d have trouble collecting enough wood at Blue Lagoon, our home for the night. He was right about the lack of driftwood; he was also right in choosing our campsite. If you look at that golden yellow mountainside, you should be able to recognize it as the mountain we were looking at during lunch.

Our rafts tied up for the night at Blue Lagoon camp site in Kluane National Park Yukon, Canada

We were almost tricked into thinking we were having a sunset this early evening. With the sun reflecting off the golden mountains behind us, a warm sunset light was cast down upon us. Caroline learned a new trick today: one of the straps on a dry bag I carry for storing a camera broke. Bruce explained to her how to fix it when on a river – you need floss. Like all good boatmen, these folks travel with emergency supplies to fix just about anything that might break while on a river trip; a needle was found in a quick minute. Now armed, Caroline got to work reattaching the strap of my dry bag and fixing it, to our delight. Dinner was lasagna, the entertainment was a blazing fire, and dreams played second fiddle to the extraordinary view of nature we have been experiencing.

Rafting The Alsek – Canada To Alaska Day 2

June 17, 2012 JWise Photo of the Day, Travels

Passing a lighthouse on the Inside Passage after leaving Juneau, Alaska on the way to Haines

This trip to Alaska is more than just a vacation; we are getting started on another big adventure. While today is a part of the journey, it is really about getting into place for the action to get underway. This wasn’t a spur-of-the-moment, “Let’s get out and do something” kind of trip either, and NO, we are not here for a cruise! Planning for our introduction to Alaska started last summer with us weighing options between two different rivers and available dates. We ended up opting for the Alsek River over the Tatshenshini River, which is just a mountain range from where we are heading today. We start early and take a shuttle to the dock, where we will board a fast catamaran operated by the Alaska Marine Highway for our two-and-a-half-hour ride up the Inside Passage. Fog obscures the view that we are certain is nothing short of spectacular, but those sights are not to be seen by us today and will require another visit to delight in its certain beauty.

John and Caroline Wise on the Alaska / Canadian border

We dock in Haines and are greeted by Andy from Chilkat Guides. Andy is the company rep I’ve been talking to for the past year about this grand outing. A few minutes later, with our gear loaded on the van, we were on our way to the company warehouse. Some of the other passengers we’ll be traveling with are already here; some are yet to arrive. A few minutes later, a big truck pulls up, and out steps Bruce Keller, one of our boatmen. This is not just any old boatman either; Bruce was with us on our 18-day dory trip down the Colorado River through the Grand Canyon a year and a half ago. He is here at our request; after all, it was Bruce on Day 1 of that Grand Canyon adventure who told us a story about a Tatshenshini/Alsek trip he had been on in years past. The flames of our curiosity were stoked. There’s another reason we wished for Bruce to join us here, but I’ll get to that later.

On the Haines Highway going north

Once all of us guests are assembled, the briefing begins. We are introduced to our other two boatmen; our trip leader is Shaun Cornish, who also goes by the nickname “Corn,” and next is Martha Stewart – no, not that one. Dry bags are handed out for packing our gear into, along with a sleep kit, and fisherman’s rubber overalls and jackets. Packed up, it’s time to hit the road on our school bus. Not so fast; we still need heavy rubber boots and felt liners to keep our feet dry and comfy once we get to the river, that, and some alcohol. Once that’s done, we are ready to get underway and drive north up the Haines Highway. A peculiar situation occurs on this type of river trip; we do not start our river journey in Alaska but in the Yukon Territory of Canada. The river will take us out of the Yukon and into British Columbia before shoving us across the U.S. border in the middle of nowhere some days further downstream. But we still have to check in with customs, so at the U.S. / Canadian border, we first file into the U.S. crossing station and surrender our passports to check into the U.S., although we haven’t even left yet. Then it’s time to check in with Canada; once more, the passports are handed over, and we wait a few minutes. We are clear and, again, are heading up the highway.

Side of the road off the Haines Highway

The trek out of Alaska and the way into the Yukon are well deserving of all the superlatives offered by the many travel writers and poets who have attempted to convey a sense of the beauty that exists within this landscape. Words like “heavy,” “large,” and “expansive” quickly come to mind. “Overwhelming” soon tramples the senses, leaving me to shake my head in disbelief that I am even here. I want to feel cheated that we are not stopping at every pullout to stand in awe of all of this, but I understand that we are on our way to something really big.

A lumbering grizzly bear makes his way across a meadow off the Haines Highway

Not to say we can’t stop, and after spotting a grizzly bear, well, that demands we pull over. Oblivious to our presence and not caring a lick about our need for photos, this famous lumbering creature turns his back on us and wanders away from the meadow it was grooming to disappear into a thicket of trees. As far as wildlife was concerned this day, the bear would be the only encounter we’d have. Like the bear, we, too, need to keep moving.

Roadside mountain and lake view off Highway 3 in the Yukon Territory of Canada

Photographing this environment is difficult. Clouds change quickly, and the land is so expansive that getting it “all” into frame becomes an exercise in frustration. If I were driving and getting to a destination at any particular time was not a factor, I would pull over every two minutes to insist that this was going to be the photo that would define our trip. Instead, I frantically shoot photos out of the window of the school bus and assure myself that I am coming back someday to linger while we mosey down the road.

Off-roading in a school bus requires a full 90 minutes to travel but 5 miles on this poorly maintained road to the Alsek River

It’s already 5:00 pm by the time we leave the road near Haines Junction for a bumpy ride down a narrow, poorly maintained scratch into the earth. It will take 90 minutes on this rut to travel just 5 miles. The adventure has now begun. Just as quickly, it nearly comes to a standstill. Flowing water goes where it wants to out here, and when it does so in random ways, it can cut banks into the gravel, and that’s just what our bus got stuck on. But we are traveling with pro’s and in an instant, Corn has us off the gravel bar and bumping wildly on our way to our campsite.

On the way to our campsite down a poorly maintained road in the Yukon

Onward we crawl. From this location back in 1850, we would have been submerged below a very large lake. In 1725, Lowell Glacier surged forward, creating a temporary 125-year dam that blocked the flow of the Alsek River. During those formative years, a lake over 30 miles long had collected, until in 1850, the glacier broke. When those waters were released, a massive flood scoured the landscape clean as it made its way to the Pacific about 150 miles downstream. The shoreline of that lake can still be seen in the mountainsides next to our route.

Snow covered mountains in early summer line the primitive road that is delivering us to the Alsek River

We have fallen in love with the terrain. Pinching ourselves will not wake us from this dreamscape. It is now incomprehensible how this can get any better. The idea that we are just at the beginning of a two-week rafting trip down a wild, infrequently traveled river only builds the sense of excitement that tingles the eyes and accelerates the heart with anticipation. As it was with our rafting trip down the Colorado, we cannot fully comprehend that we are so fortunate to be here, but so it is. Shortly, we will exit the bus. Our gear will be thrown onto the sandy soil, and we will, from that point on, only move further and further away from civilization and the modern world. We are entering a place where few dare enter, a primitive land lost in time, carved during the epoch known as the Pleistocene. Do not cue Twilight Zone music here.

Setting up camp on the Alsek River in the Yukon, Canada

What happened? Were we afraid that in a space so large, we would feel isolated, distant, and alone? Maybe the others thought I had made a sound judgment when scouting the location to set up the first tent. I had chosen this spot for Caroline and me because we were camping close to some obvious runoff that had poured over this drainage in the last few days, and this particular location looked to be an inch or two above the rivulets that can be seen in the bottom of the photo. Still, I wasn’t so sure about my logic and wondered if we should have searched for higher ground. I was sure the others would after having witnessed my poor judgment. No one else pursued that line of thought, though; they simply huddled around us. I agonized about moving the tent to find some ‘open’ space but was certain that would have been perceived as anti-social. On the other hand, who needed a tent when the plan was to stay up all night? To experience a 24-hour day seemed like a great idea, before a full stomach after dinner changed the equation.

Looking downstream on the Alsek River in the Yukon, Canada

This is the direction we’ll travel in the morning. Three inflatable rafts, three guides, twelve passengers, and 184 miles between us and the ocean. What is it that lies in front of us? What kind of wildlife will we see? Will a rapid spill of one or more of the rafts and its human cargo into these icy waters? Might we witness calving glaciers or rolling icebergs? Standing on this shore, there are no answers, but there is an abundance of curiosity, trepidation, enthusiasm, and outright bewilderment. Today, we have placed ourselves at the precipice of adventure, whose grandeur exceeds our ability to comprehend even a fraction of what’s to come. It will take months, if not years, into the future to fully appreciate where this river will have taken us.

A double rainbow greets us at camp where the Dezdeash River is becoming the Alsek in the Yukon Territory of Canada

The last act of this momentous day occurred under a rainbow. At the beginning of this day’s recounting, I mentioned there was more to the story as to why it was important for us to have Bruce along as one of our guides. It was here on this day next to the Alsek that I presented Bruce with the first copy of my book titled “Stay In The Magic.” One month following the completion of our November 2010 Colorado River rafting trip, I took the opportunity to phone Bruce. Just prior to leaving the Grand Canyon, the boatmen told us that the worst part of these big river trips was about to begin: the phenomenon known as re-entry. Upon returning to “normal” life after an extended stay in the amazing, it happens that what was once normal and routine now seems out of place and peculiar, at best. We were reassured that this would pass after a few days. Well, there it was a month later, and Caroline and I were still deep in the Grand Canyon and were not making a very elegant departure from the experience we had marveled at. It was towards the end of that phone call that Bruce reassured me that we were truly lucky, that we should enjoy our extended stay in those memories, be happy that they didn’t disappear moments after our return, and that we should “stay in the magic.” At the time, I didn’t know yet that I was writing something that was going to go beyond one of my usual blog entries. As my writing continued and I realized that I was indeed on my way to authoring a book, I voiced a rhetorical question to Caroline one day, “I wonder what I’ll call this if I ever finish it?” Her reply: “What about that phone call with Bruce a couple of months ago where he told you to, “Stay In The Magic!?” And that is where we have stayed, in the magic.

Rafting The Alsek – Canada To Alaska Day 1

June 16, 2012 JWise Photo of the Day, Travels

On trail walking to the Mendenhall Glacier on an overcast afternoon in Juneau, Alaska

Today was the grand arrival; we landed in Juneau, Alaska. This is the 50th state for Caroline and me to visit, although there’s a whole lot more to see of this land than the little corner we are exploring on this journey north. Flying in left much to the imagination, as for most of the flight from Seattle, our view was that of a heavy cloud cover. Moments after dropping below the shroud, I couldn’t contain my excitement and infectiously pulled Caroline into my enthusiasm when I pointed out that I could see a glacier. The original plan had been to land, call the hotel for a shuttle, and maybe get a taxi into Juneau proper for some sightseeing. Scratch that; we are renting a car so we can go have our first encounter with a glacier. Mendenhall Glacier was just up the road; soon, we were too.

Mendenhall Glacier

Mendenhall Glacier. Okay, so we’ve now been everywhere in the United States. We are like children on Christmas day here. Containment of the exhilaration we are feeling would be like trying to contain a cloud burst. A glacier! Not just any old glacier either, one with a name that smacks of English royalty. You don’t need to correct me; I know it’s a medieval English town best known for the Royal Air Force, but today, this glacier is king.

Waterfall next to Mendenhall Glacier

Astonished and overwhelmed. That is our normal when visiting a state for the first time, and can’t believe our luck that “WE” should be there. Compounding today’s excitement is the knowledge that we have earned bragging rights of having been to all 50 states. Yes, I know I’m repeating myself, but that is just what we do a hundred times while we are standing there, mouths agape, as we ask each other, “Can you believe it?” We may never understand how others, apparently on their first visits to someplace new, maintain such composure. If it wasn’t for our reverence of nature, you can bet we’d be screaming holy expletives at the idea that we are gawking at this spectacle of beauty.

Closeup of the face of Mendenhall Glacier in Juneau, Alaska

Got a kayak? How do we get out there and touch this? Not exactly an inviting facade, maybe even a very dangerous one, but who can resist the idea of cozying up to the face of a glacier? And what of the chance of a calving chunk of ice the size of a convenience store falling off to crush us and maybe even kill us? Okay, forget the kayak. Short of sharing our mantra of repeating, “OH MY GOD!” I cannot convey where we were mentally. Physically, that’s easy: onshore, still with mouths wide open. Good thing arctic terns nest on surfaces and not in cavity nests, as I’m sure one of our mouths might have looked like an inviting place to call home.

Sudeten Lousewort in bloom - also known as fernweed; Juneau, Alaska. The Latin name is Pedicularis sudetica

The Sudeten lousewort blooming in June is also known as fernweed. The timing of this trip to Alaska has not been left to chance; there was an intention behind making plans for an early summer trip: to maximize our opportunity to see wildflowers. Of course, there were other intentions too, namely a river we’ll be traveling on. That bit of information will be detailed in tomorrow’s blog entry. For now, we are content to explore the area adjacent to the glacier.

An iceberg in front of Mendenhall Glacier - Juneau, Alaska

It’s one thing to see an iceberg in photos, on TV, or in a movie, but to see one in person, well, that’s like being on a savanna and watching a lion catch a meal. Not that I’ve personally been to Africa, but I can imagine the tension mounting as one is about to witness nature in action, and then it happens: the chase is on. It’s just like this moment right now. Though there’s not much chase, not even any perceptible motion, nor will the iceberg be devouring any fish, beaver, or birds that may enter its zone. Nope, it’s just a giant chunk of glacial ice moving at glacial speeds. It is the coolest piece of floating ice I have ever witnessed. Come to think about it, besides an ice cube in a drink or a frozen lake surface, this is the only massive piece of floating ice I have ever seen. Wishes for it to roll over went unheeded.

A seagull over the waters of the Mendenhall Glacier in Juneau, Alaska

Arctic terns were nesting during our visit. Terns are quick flyers and dart in any direction with incredible speed; that’s why I don’t have a photo of one of them. Instead, I offer you this seagull, which was much easier to capture. Couldn’t spot any chicks yet, but for all I knew, they were right there under our noses. If ever there was an argument for augmented reality, for me, it is right here, right now. If Google Glass wants to do me a favor, give me an overlay of information regarding the natural world. I’ve already learned how to navigate the cities I visit, well, except for that tiny problem of finding a public restroom, but I really want to know more about the nature surrounding me here today. What is the lifespan of an Arctic tern? Are they migratory, monogamous swimmers? How big was the Mendenhall Glacier 30, 50, or 100 years ago? Does the waterfall on our right flow year-round? Before I got home at the end of our great north adventure to learn that the flowers above were of the Lousewort family, it would have been great to have a mobile device that already knew where I would be during this trip and that I would want to know everything I could about the local flora and fauna. Let’s go National Geographic; it’s time to get into educational augmented reality-based software!

A fern growing adjacent to the Mendenhall glacier in Juneau, Alaska

Lush, deep green, and dense, just the way I like my women, oops, I mean plant life. Eye candy should seduce you, drag you in to see more, and never quite produce the total state of ecstasy one seeks, thus bringing you back for more. Botanical eye candy is like a drug to me. It allows me to better understand the animal that falls into it, writhing and wriggling in delight. Maybe it gets high when rolling deep in the luscious carpet of greenery, just as I am by merely staring at this abundance of enchantment. Hey buddy, want some green stuff? It’s really potent, man.

Water streaming over rocks in Juneau, Alaska

Leave the camera’s shutter open a few seconds while focused on rushing water, and the ephemeral wisps of its splashing droplets take on a mysterious, otherworldly feel. It never fails for Caroline to stop at these outflows and plead with me to shoot a long exposure. I oblige her when possible, as I, too, love this effect. We have a soft spot for these beautiful little streams and cascades; who doesn’t?

A black bear noshing on some fine greenery in Juneau, Alaska

Nom, nom, nom, murmurs the bear while noshing on the fine roadside greenery. With the abundance of what may be his favorite mid-day snack, this bear paid no attention to us. Of course, I didn’t challenge this safe arrangement by throwing Caroline out of the car to see if she could persuade the bear to perform some antics for us. Had I done that, I am certain I could have captured a picture that would be a hit on Imgur, while the car behind us might have gotten video footage of an idiot pushing his wife into the path of a bear, allowing him the big YouTube score. Now, I wouldn’t have really done any of this, but don’t you ever wonder what the thinking is behind some of these profoundly stupid situations people get into before finding a minor celebrity on the internet? By the way, I cannot verify if the plant the bear is eating is actually as yummy as it appears to him. Maybe next time, I’ll try a mouthful. (Edit: The bear is eating Equisetum, commonly known as Horse Tail. – Caroline)

Driving north from Mendenhall glacier towards the roads end outside of Juneau, Alaska

The weather wasn’t cooperating in offering us stunning panoramas, so we settled on this “drab” view where snow-covered mountains peak out behind low clouds to give us a hint of what exists in the distance. It is as though the full dimension of where we are is only slowly being revealed, and we are perfectly okay with that. Our imaginations fill in the gaps of what we are not allowed to witness yet; our expectations are soaring. The thrill of what is unfolding is electrifying.

A cascade peeks out from under the clouds near Juneau, Alaska

Not all things right in front of our faces are always apparent. On our drive north from Mendenhall, the mountains were mostly cloud-covered, and there was that bear that grabbed our attention. On the way back south, we spot this cascade that had emerged from below the weather. Had it always been there? Of course, it has, though this could also be a seasonal occurrence, only flowing with the spring and summer melt. We have to wonder, how many more cascades and waterfalls are we missing? Those thoughts of still hidden gems will make it easier on the days when we need to convince ourselves that a return to Alaska is required.

Caroline Wise enjoying her first beer in Alaska, which was better than the first bear we saw enjoying her!

Time to call it a day. Not that the day is really over; it stays light around the clock here this time of year, but we were hungry and tired. For a capital city, there weren’t very many choices of where to grab dinner. We tried finding the local dive that might have been owned by a fisherman who only sold his daily catch, but that culinary treasure proved elusive. And so we satisfied ourselves with some nondescript waterside eatery that fulfilled at least two important functions. One, we were able to eat. Two, Caroline was able to enjoy her first beer in Alaska. Tomorrow, we get busy.

Verde Railroad With Jutta

February 15, 2012 JWise Photo of the Day, Travels

Oak Creek Canyon, Arizona

Well, here we are witnessing incredible southwestern beauty, but it has sat on a hard drive for ten years, languishing as its bits grew dusty. In my race to excavate things lost and buried from our world of experiences, I grab these memories from our past and bring them forward onto my blog, where they have a better chance of seeing the light of day or beaming their light into our eyeballs at some random time in the future. I’m writing this on February 26, 2022, with absolutely no notes to stoke the memory about particular details, but no matter, as better that something’s here instead of nothing.

Oak Creek Canyon, Arizona

At first glance at these old photos, I couldn’t figure out the logic of heading up to Sedona and Oak Creek Canyon, although seeing the landscape covered in snow is a serious great reason how’d we fit this in before the train ride on the Verde Canyon Railroad in Clarkdale?

Oak Creek Canyon, Arizona

I figured it out by visiting their website, which shows that here in the winter, the train doesn’t depart until 1:00 in the afternoon. That set things up perfectly to drive a little further north for some snowy tourism in our Red Rock Canyon area.

Oak Creek Canyon, Arizona

True that my mother-in-law visits Arizona from Germany at this time of year to avoid the bitter cold of Frankfurt, not that it’s all that bitter there, but escaping the grey days is a luxury. Seeing snow in this area of Arizona is also a luxury because that certainly doesn’t occur every year.