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The Last Frontier at Last Part I: Anchorage

Jason and I have been talking about going to Alaska for nearly a decade now. We finally made our maiden voyage to that last frontier. We were there for over a week, and like the foxtrot, our trip went slow, slow and then quick, quick with a diversity of settings and climates.

For someone from a location much closer to the equator, Alaska felt a bit off. The sun never seemed to go up or come down; it just moved in a horizontal line from one side of the sky to the other. Plus, the twilights dragged on forever like a kid that has to be coaxed slowly into bed. The sun’s unwillingness to descend prolonged many of our excursions past when excursions should be prolonged, but more on that later.

Unangax and Alutiiq
The Alaska Native Heritage Center includes village sites around Lake Tiulana.

We spent our first 36 hours experiencing Anchorage. It wasn’t enough time, but it allowed us to see a sliver of the most populated city in Alaska. In the downtown area, we lunched and shopped before heading to the Alaska Native Heritage Center. Dedicated to preserving and sharing Native cultures, the Alaska Native Heritage Center is enlightening and beautiful in its peaceful, woody spot within Anchorage. We enjoyed dance and drum performances and architectural portrayals of villages from five diverse tribe groups. I made a goal to learn how to pronounce the tribe names correctly of all those represented. It proved a difficult task, but I nearly succeeded.

Afterward, we headed to Chugach State Park, the third-largest state park in the United States. Chugach is just outside of Anchorage. It is easy to access but not crowded. We were hoping to do a longer hike in the park, but the Rodak Nature Trail turned out to be our only option due to closures caused by the Hungry Bears and Upstream Salmon Annual Fatal Meeting. Still, the Eagle River drifted unhurriedly beneath peaks grazed into bristly points by hundreds of slithering glaciers, and we were satisfied.

Rodak Nature Trail
Though it wasn’t the path we had planned, the Rodak Nature Trail proved tread worthy.

Before calling it a day, we hiked to Thunderbird Falls, an easy-to-justify undertaking along the Eklutna River. This 200-foot cascade is only partially visible from its trail and viewpoint, but since it merely requires a mile to reach, any complaints are unsound. Admittingly, it did leave me wanting a better glimpse though.

How did we fit these many activities into one day? Well, it’s not that difficult when daylight extends past 10:00 PM. Of course, that means eating dinner at 10:32, which is about when we finally consumed our evening meal. But hey, we could have eaten that meal on the restaurant’s patio without any artificial lighting.

Thunderbird Falls
Though we didn’t get to observe every bit of Thunderbird Falls, we did get to meander through a couple miles of birch forest.

The next day, we were off to Denali National Park after eating donuts, fried halibut, perogies, corn fritters, and fried potato slices at the Anchorage Market and Festival, the state’s largest open-air market. Like the level sun, healthy is a little off in Alaska. Next week, Denali is up.

Rachel October 13, 2019 No Comments

The Culture and Clefts of Southern Utah

Members of my family have participated in a canyoneering adventure every summer for a few years now. I suppose it has become a bit of a squelchy tradition. This year, we did not one but two slot canyons, plus threw in a coupe plays, some cliffs, and a little non-soggy climbing. We shoved it all into one packed weekend in Southern Utah.

our gap group
All ages and fitness levels were represented in our group.
a simple slot
Though not particularly technical or overwhelmingly wet, Kanarra Canyon still provides a touch of adventure.

Kanarra Canyon, which is located just outside Cedar City, was the first slot on our agenda. You can’t go to Cedar City in the summer without going to the Utah Shakespearean Festival; it is technically impossible. If you don’t believe me, look it up. Instead of trying to pull a Don Quixote and fight the impossible, we went to two plays before doing any canyoneering. The first was the best version of Hamlet I’ve ever seen, featuring Quinn Mattfeld. We also partook of the flashy silliness that is Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat. Its catchy tunes got stuck in my head like always. Go, go, go Joe!

Kanarraville Falls
You’ve probably seen this scene a dozen times on Instagram, but this picture is totally different because it was taken by me.
the majesty of insignificance
Slot canyons have a way of making you feel like an insignificant insect lost in a damp crevice.

The following day, we went on to Kanarra Canyon. During the last 15 years, social media nearly spoiled this hike with its pictures and praises. Kanarraville’s 350 residents couldn’t shoulder the 40,000 visitors that trudged through their canyon and water source in 2015. Hence, the number of permits is now limited to 150 per day. The trail felt a little crowded with just that many; I can’t imagine how it would have been with 10 times more. Like waiting in the line at Space Mountain? The temperatures oscillated between too hot at our outset to too cold as the canyon deepened and tapered, but we were easily distracted from this discomfort by the lofty walls and idyllic stream. Even the youngest among us managed the terrain, yet it still felt like an adventure.

cascading obstacles
The trail through Kanarra Canyon crosses a series of waterfalls, some of them simpler to ascend than others.
pond scum
This seemed like a closed-mouth sort of pond.

After Kanarra Canyon, we traveled to Zion National Park. There, the brave cooled off in a pool along the Lower Pine Creek Waterfall Trail the speedy way, i.e. cliff jumping. Afterward, we had just enough time to finish the short one-mile Canyon Overlook Trail before it got dark.

slender puddles
This notch looked too tiny for cliff jumping, but no injuries resulted.
jump drama
As jumpers’ comfort levels increased, so did their theatrics.

The next morning, my sister and I stayed with a nephew too young to obtain maternal approval to descend through Keyhole Canyon while the rest of the group… obviously, they went through Keyhole Canyon. Keyhole Canyon is reasonably short, about one mile, and unreasonably slim. Pictures alone are enough to make the claustrophobic panic. Those that went described the stagnant water they had to wade through as putrid and black in places, especially at the top of the canyon. We are talking a Death-Star-trash-compactor level of repulsive here. On the flip side, they said the light filtering through the crimsons of the Navajo sandstone looked like a subterranean sunset. The group had to do three rappels and completed the canyon in three hours. In the meantime, my sister and I completed some window shopping and snack consumption with the little guy.

Keyhole Canyon
Keyhole Canyon is not much larger than a keyhole in some spots.
tight yet tasteful
Wetsuits seem designed to make their wearers appear dorky, but Jason looks rather fine in one.

Our weekend in Southern Utah was crammed with culture, cliffs, canyons, and claustrophobia via Kanarraville and Keyhole. At least it didn’t also include giardia or broken bones because those wouldn’t have sounded right in my last sentence.

Rachel September 29, 2019 No Comments

Naturalist Basin

Hiking is an active pleasure that some prefer to forego. After all, it is just a repetitive act of putting one foot before the other over and over and over again. Yet, there is a certain splendor in that simplicity and a definite splendor in the places your feet can take you. A segment of my family planned a backpacking trip in the Uintas this summer. Somehow, that turned into an all-day hike to Naturalist Basin, which is certainly a spot of splendor. This is the tale of that trek.

Murdock's remains
The Murdock Fire burned for about two months last fall consuming over 5,000 acres.

Naturalist Basin, which is located in the High Uintas, is a favorite amongst both Boy Scouts and bigger explorers. It features over a dozen lakes and countless alpine meadows bounded by the jagged ridgelines of Mount Agassiz and Spread Eagle Peak. Hence, its popularity makes perfect sense.

scorched and scaled
With shimmering scales, the trunks of scorched pines looked like they belonged in some gloomy sea.

Due to circumstances beyond my control, I only got three hours of sleep the night before our long hike. I was up at 3:30, a bit earlier than what was required for our 6:00 AM meetup. Still, Jason and I were prepared and nearly on time. Even the rain that wetted our drive, and hinted that much more would be forthcoming, didn’t diminish our eagerness for discovering what was around the corner… or mountain.

shoots over cinders
In the midst of blackened ash, life returns.
strange streams
It seemed strange to find a stream winding cheerfully through the fire’s devastation.

The Highline Trail starts at 10,350 ft. It descends for a bit before climbing again as it nears Naturalist Basin. We started our hike at 8:40 AM and finished it about 7:00 PM. That’s over 10 hours of hiking for those of you having difficulty with the math. In those 10 hours, we followed the Highline Trail past Jordan Lake to Shaler Lake, a total of 12.8 miles.

Naturalist Basin
Naturalist Basin is considered by many to be one of the prettiest spots in the High Uintas. You can see why.

Roughly three miles into our trek we crossed the singed ghost of a forest. A large section of the wilderness near Scudder Lake was burned by the Murdock Fire last fall. For over a mile, we hiked through a landscape literally enveloped in blackness. The contorted remains of pines and spruce scrutinized our advance like iridescent specters. Although destruction and demise echoed on those hillsides, green shoots were already starting to push through the charred earth. It was both heartbreaking and beautiful.

Jordan Lake
Jordan Lake is the largest lake in Naturalist Basin.

Jordan Lake, the largest and most popular lake in Naturalist Basin, provided our lunch spot. From its elevation of 10,630 feet, we ascended another 350 to the upper portion of the basin. Although that difference in altitude seems insignificant from a human perspective, not so for plants. The timberline fell away from us as we topped the upper basin. It might as well have been another planet.

the lower from 11,000
From the comparatively-barren ground of the upper basin, the lower basin appeared spectacularly lush.

As I already mentioned, Naturalist Basin has a reputation for being a little too popular for its own good, but we didn’t encounter the steady line of people moving up and down the mountain we thought we would. The threat of rain persisted the entire day, so perhaps the populace’s general aversion to being soggy at 10,000+ feet did us a real solid. Showers were forecasted, and we were prepared for a drenching. Instead, we got cool, cloudy weather and a nice breeze with nothing more saturating than occasional sprinkles. We did have to remove and replace layers rather frequently though… too bad I didn’t remove and replace my socks. I had an allergic reaction to them but didn’t realize it until after we were done hiking. By that point, I had a substantial rash. That’s a new one.

Shaler Lake
Shaler Lake is one of five lakes dotting the upper portion of Naturalist Basin.

Those in our group were rather tired after about 10 miles. The differences in the children’s reactions to this fatigue were fairly comical. Some outpaced the group and didn’t complain once. Others grumbled frequently about issues that were easily fixable. As in, whining about being cold instead of just putting on the jacket wrapped around your waist. For the kids in the latter category, bathroom breaks became a way of resting in the woods beyond the eyesight of adults that would urge them on. Still, all protests were halted by a meal at Hi-Mountain Burger in Kamas on our way home. Maybe it was the 13 miles talking, but that burger was one of the best I’ve tasted in a long time.

tired out trekkers
Our crew’s energy plunged to a disheartening low about three miles before the completion of our hike.

Naturalist Basin was gorgeous. My super useful tip for those planning on visiting it? Wait until Mother Nature is all grumbly and ready to rain havoc. Then, convince her to reconsider. That way, you will be able to enjoy it with just the hardiest, or most unwise, of hikers.

Rachel September 20, 2019 No Comments
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