New Pictures

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Love,
k

Some People's Children

After spending hours together in an intense learning environment, inundated with new information and skills, people say the funniest things. So here are a few quotes from class:

Treatment for heat stroke: "Just put 'em in a harness and tie 'em to a tree, then you can leave 'em there in the river."

Gynecological emergencies: "So basically any time you have an escaped fetus, you need to make an immediate evacuation?"

When the team is ready to log roll a patient, maintaining neutral spine alignment: "Go for it!"

Strategies for keeping people safe while leading adventure: "Treat every client as if they were trying to kill you."

When trying to decide if giving someone whiskey to help him or her feel better: "Remember, never waste alcohol on a patient."

***The names have not been posted, to protect the innocent. These are the quotes just as I remember them--maybe a little inaccurate, but so funny to me. No disrespect is meant to the people who said them or any person who might actually be suffering in a backwoods scenario. Everyone gets a little loopy sometimes; we laughed so much with our classmates and instructors. It truly is the people who make the place

Now that I'm a WFRer

Here I am with Ben and Danielle, two fellow first responders. This is our first hike after being certified, and we are ready to save your life. Umm. . .the rainpants pulled up to my ribs are a necessary part of my uniform. . .it's like my superhero cover. By the way, I am still trying to design a logo for my cape--if anyone has ideas, let me know, I'm looking for something tough and rugged and feminine.

So anyway, Wilderness First Responders (WFRs) are trained in basic first aid care, with the additional expectation that they are responding to situations one hour or more from advanced care, like a hospital. So for example, instead of simply applying pressure to a bleeding wound--the basic first aid response, a WFR has to be able to clean and dress it, decide what kind of evacuation will be needed (if any) as well as monitor for and prevent complications in the meantime.

Things I learned that were new include how to reduce dislocated joints (shoulder, jaw, elbow, fingers and toes), improvising traction for femur fractures, how to use duct tape and sleeping mats to fix just about any trauma, how to care for people with hypothermia or acute mountain sickness (AMS), how to organize a basic search for missing persons, how to stop people from "trying to get dead" on adventure trips, and how to prevent needing to use any of these skills.

An immediate application for this trip that Holly and I are on is that we will be carrying much more food and clothing on our next backpacking trip. We realized that up until now we have been pre-hypothermic to mildly hypothermic for most of our hiking. Light hiking is no good if it creates survival issues! Extra layers as well as dry clothing to change into are the first step, and eating more is the second step to keeping warm. As a special treat, we bought chai tea packets to put in our emergency supplies.

A Big Surprise

So Holly and I have been in Juneau since the 14th. We put the car on a ferry in Haines and reclined in the solarium for four hours until we arrived in Auke Bay. We started our Wilderness First Responder course (WFR) on the 18th. Last night, a local resident was asking us about our plans after the course. We responded that we wanted to explore the island.
"Which island?" He asked.
"Juneau." Well, much to our surprise, we found out that Juneau is not an island. Although you cannot get to it by car, it is attached to the North American continent and borders British Colombia. It's a little disappointing to find out we're not on an island, but we're adjusting to this new information well, and our informant graciously allowed that if the glacial ice were to melt, Juneau might become an island.

Dreams and Favorite Things

What I want to do before I die:
*Be certified as an American Mountaineer Association (AMA) Climbing Guide
*Hang-glide or paraglide
*Play the guitar really well
*Own a motorcycle
*Grow a garden and compost
*Backpack across Europe
*Learn to dance Flamenco


My Favorite Things:

1. My down puff jacket
2. Hot vanilla soy with chocolate chips
3. Craisins
4. New deodorant
5. Running Water
6. Craisins
7. Hot fresh-baked bread
8. My Powerband (the leather bracelet made by Ziggy)
9. All of my books
10. Glaciers
11. Outback Jack (the car, christened by our friend from down under)
12. Sea Otters
13. Craisins
14. Wine by the fire with cheese and crackers
15. A slumber party every night in the tent

BEAR TROUBLE??

After our hike on to the mine, we returned to our campsite. A couple passing us told us that they had seen a couple bears by the trail. Forewarned, we made lots of noise and continued our vigilant bear-safe behavior (such as storing, preparing and eating food 100 yards from our tent, brushing teeth in a separate area, etc).

The following morning, as we prepared our meal next to the food lockers, a fellow camper came to get his food. “Did you have any trouble with the bears last night?”

“No, did you?” we asked innocently enough.

“Well, we were in town, but they got into our tent.”

We followed this man to inspect the damage. Sure enough, both the rainfly and the actual tent were ripped. His wife told us that the bear had also clawed some Ziploc bags left in the tent, but had not gotten any food. They were nonchalantly preparing breakfast as we watched.

Properly impressed, Holly and I vowed to continue our plans to hike the Root Glacier Trail, but were warily alert for signs of bear. As we began our wet hike, we talked loudly. The trail was overgrown, and the brush was full of water, which it dumped on us. The majority of the bushes were soapberry bushes. Then we came to the bear scat: all digested soapberries (we were like CSI, inspecting forensic evidence). There was quite a bit of bear scat, really so much, that we determined either the bear had some intestinal difficulty, or that sixteen families of bears had all converged on the trail and each member had left its own deposit.

I don’t know if you have ever tried to talk or sing for three hours straight (at a volume that a busy family reunion of bears could hear). Because we were in brush, and our visibility was limited, we knew that the possibility of surprising a bear was high, and we know how bears hate surprises. It is amazing the repetoire of songs we drew upon: old show tunes, lullabies, Christmas carols, hymns, movie soundtracks, liturgy—even New Kids on the Block. It was exhausting. However, it worked. We did not see a single bear. Either they had left the area, or we horrified them enough with our cacophony, that they feared encountering us more than we feared them.

We made it safely back to our base camp, packed it up and went into town for the music festival/potlatch where we regaled everyone with stories of our non-encounter with the troublesome bears.

Hidden Jewel

We stopped at the Copper River Visitor’s Center, enjoyed the displays and continued on our way to Valdez. In Valdez, we met a woman who works for a guide company. She chastised us sharply. “You have to go back into Wrangell! Drive into the National Park and hike in Kennicott. In a few years, the government will have all those roads paved, and it will totally change the area.”

If we’ve learned anything on this trip, it is to heed insider tips and go with the flow. So we returned to Wrangell-St. Elias National Park. The road into the park is unpaved. We covered 68 miles in about three hours (and passed at least three cars pulled over to repair tires). We reached the end of the road and opted out of the $5/person shuttle ride and hiked across the foot bridge, five miles into town. We were passed by residents on their ATVs and the white shuttle van (maybe 10 times it passed us).

Stomachs growling, feet beginning to blister, we continued past town onto the Root Glacier Trail, where we had been told we could camp for free and use the bear-proof food storage lockers. We filled our hydration bladders in the streams (without using a filters—do as the locals do), and found a spot about 1.5 miles from town. We made the standard potato soup, pitched the tent in view of the glacier and laid down to read before falling asleep. But sleep was faster than we were.

In the morning, we headed off for the Bonanza Mine Trail. All told, our distance was about 9 miles, with a 3,800 foot elevation gain (and then we had to come back down—this is the best way to quickly age the knee joints). At the top we discovered a collapsed mine, and then summited the ridge to behold THE VISTA: Glaciers giving way to Mount Donoho, another mine site, jagged rocky outcroppings, green hills, Copper River. . .words simply failed. I tried praise and expletives but fell silent, my throat tight with the wonder of it all. The wind threatened to whip us off our perch, and carried the sound of a roaring rockslide.

After several moments of awe and fear-filled silence, Holly and I retreated. We took no pictures, knowing the experience could not be reduced to a single still frame. The next day or two we limped and hobbled a bit and found new muscles that protested any and all movement, but we found great contentment in the reminder of our adventure.

Cool Facts

**Caribou and Moose shed their antlers every year. Caribou are the only animals in the deer family that both male and female have antlers. Antlers are rich in calcium and phosphorous and are the only source of these minerals for many arctic creatures.

**Salmon return to their birthplace to spawn. Once they leave the salt water they don’t eat anything; their changing color is explained by the literal rotting of their flesh. During the spawning, many creatures catch them (bears, gulls). Their remains are picked over by detritivores (things that eat dead things, eg: ravens, fungi) and provide nitrogen for the soil.

**The richest and largest copper mine in the world was in Kennicott. It is located in the nation’s largest national park: Wrangell-St. Elias National Park and Preserve (which is bigger than Switzerland).

**Wormwood was used by indigenous to repel mosquitoes. Uncle Rick says that the camphor is useful for deterring ground hogs as well.

**Glacial Ice is created as tons of snow accumulates, compressing the ice into super-dense particles or “firns.” The reason glaciers look blue is that the ice is so dense, it absorbs the other colors of the light spectrum, reflecting only the blue light.

A Souvenir

Part One: This past spring, as I was thinking about life and living, I had a vision, well more like an image. I had been thinking about what it means to truly live and about my identity. As I thought about how the world is and how I long for the world to be, I felt overwhelmed by the courage it takes to hold the tension of these contrasting ideas. Thinking about who I am to be in this world, the only sure part of my identity is in relationship, and the truest relationship is that with the King, the One who transcends all reality, seen and unseen. So anyway, I had this image of a Warrior Princess, standing on a hill, wind whipping my hair back, fierce, jubilant and alive. And yes, I was a bit taller and wearing leather--something like a cross between Pocahontas and a Highlander.
Part Two: When thinking of what kind of recuerdo I wanted for this trip, the Haida-Tlingit totem images really stood out to me. They remind me of stories from my time here in Alaska. Crafty Raven, Bear, Beaver and all the other characters of local mythology. But I didn't want to buy something mass-produced. I wanted to support an Alaskan Artist.

Enter Ziggy. Well actually, we entered his shop where the owner tried to sell Holly an ivory pipe (because here in Alaska individuals are allowed to grow three ounces of weed). I wandered off and started playing with these leather bracelets. The maker of the bracelets, one Ziggy, political activist, muralist, shoe-shiner, cobbler, jack-of-all-trades, engaged us in conversation. He explained his view on using all of the resources available, not letting things go to waste. He also explicated his approach to working compassionately with the homeless and showed us numerous newspaper clippings. We talked about how once the past is gone, it really is past. We carry the memory, but can live only in the present.
The designs on the bracelet were what he called "totemic," modeled after the totem art of South-Eastern Alaskans. And so I found my souvenir.

The Checklist

What we've seen so far:
Weather/Landforms/Water
Rain, clouds, lots of clouds
Double rainbows
Denali (three times!!)
Wonder Lake
Lake Laberge
Hot Springs (two different ones)
Alaska Range
Wrangell Mountains
Exit Glacier


Flora:
Spruce
Aspen
Birch
Fireweed
Bluebells and harebells
Lichen
Moss
Blueberries, raspberries
Yarrow
Devil's Club (DANGER)
Horsetails

Fauna:
Moose (mama, baby and bull. One moose bathing in the river at our campsite)
Caribou (both male and female have antlers. Mama and baby ran in front of our car for 2 miles)
Dall Sheep (over 20, but very far away)
Ground Squirrels (an infestation)
Marmots
Ptarmigans
Black Bear (two beside the road)
Grizzly bear (two cubs, mama and cub and solo bears)
Porcupine (waddling in all its glory)
Beaver (and dam)
Bald Eagle

Landmarks:
Alyeska Pipeline
North Pole
Arctic Circle
Alaska Veterans Memorial
Iditarod Start

. . .and more

Thoughts on Patience (Aug 6, 2006)

When hiking on rocky terrain, in the rain, with a hood on, I tend to look down. Our backpacking trek on the K'esugi ridge kept us ever before Denali (the largest mountain in North America), but when clouds obscured it from view, the ground is what held my interest most. We were in alpine tundra; the plant life is mostly short, low-growing in order to survive the harsh cold and because of permafrost (beneath the topsoil, the ground is permanently frozen). Here's the wikipedia link for more info: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tundra

In the tundra, it takes years for things to grow. A plant might germinate one year; the following year it might blossom; and possibly the third year produce a fruit. In the sub-alpine area, skinny tooth-pick spruce are the product of hundreds of years of struggle for survival.

As I trudged, watching my mud-sodden boots pass over the lichen, moss and small plants, I was struck by the different perspective on time that this ecosystem demonstrates. For myself, it was all I could do to wait 7 minutes for water to boil and 9 more minutes for the Mountain House Beef and Mac Chili to rehydrate in the evening. And yet, this beautiful, stark world passes months and years before "producing."

I thought of how I am impatient with myself in my own growth process, how I expect things to change and be mature already. I thought of how the young tundra plants live with mature plants and how there is a beauty in both. In the quiet, misty wonderland, I wondered if I could learn to live the beauty and patience modeled by the persistent growth of the tundra.

Staying Alive (July 26, 2006)

On this particular adventure there are several risks we take into consideration every day. Below is a list of factors and what we do to promote safety.
Bears: we hike with bear bells, keep all food stored in the car, wash dishes far from our sleeping area and carry bear spray. Also, because the bears have plenty of food without us (summer is their time of plenty), they are not likely to be hungry or cranky if we encounter them, and they are not out much during the day.
Getting stranded: our car is our home so we have supplies for a week at least, and as it is tourist season, there is a steady trickle of traffic on all roads, it is unlikely we would be stranded for more than a few hours. However, we always keep our fuel at at least half a tank. We check the oil level, windshield wiper fluid and air pressure frequently
Weather: we carry rain gear when we hike, and we have plenty of clothes for cold weather. We also have a copy of Mountaineering, Freedom Of the Hills bookmarked on Chapter 23: Mountain Weather.
Getting lost: We carry any relevant map with us when we hike. We also sign in and out at each trailhead. We have practiced using Holly's GPS system, but rely mostly on landmarks. We frequently stop to examine our surroundings from all angles so that we can recognize the path for the return trip. Most of our hiking has been in the tundra, so our view is uninhibited by trees. Also with continuous light, we finally eliminated our headlamps from our packs. I do carry a strobe light in the off chance that we got lost in a storm.
Food: One of my favorite subjects. We have quite a cache of quickly prepared meals. Oatmeal is a staple. When we are car-camping, we eat tuna for lunch (once we each got our own can, we were so hungry). For dinner, we have instant soups, couscous, dried produce, dehydrated meals, etc. We carry granola bars with us on hikes
Water: we have a pump, but so far have been able to fill our reservoirs at gas stations or restaurants.
Shelter: we have a two-person tent. Sometimes a friend will take us in to their home (these are not strangers, but people we know from before).
Hygeine: rivers are cold places to wash in, but when you're dirty enough, you can be quick enough. Dr. Bronner's biodegradeable soap helps us minimize our impact on the environment. There are also showers you can pay for--we have not done that yet. Also, we use Mary Kay's facial care system every morning and night and brush and floss as well.
Mosquitoes: sprays, netting, as much clothing as possible. We also have a "skeeter stick" to take away the itch.
Crazy People: there is only so much you can do. Bear Spray would probably work.

When it's all said and done, though, accidents happen. I like what John Muir said: "For every one or two that the wilderness kills, it heals thousands more." I think we aren't just surviving, we are thriving in the joy of exploring, and discovering. We will keep staying alive with the best use our resources and common sense and the benevolence of a God who "looks out for fools and drunkards."


Here Holly demonstrates our safe, responsible approach to hiking. She is sporting rain gear from the Summer '06 line. She carries a hydration pack with bear bell attached. She is referencing the trail map where any messages or warnings are posted by the officials, and we have signed in to the trail log which the authorities monitor.

In and Out of the System (July 26, 2006)

I'll let you guess which vehicle does not belong at the Princess Cruise Resort Parking Lot.

When you are on a limited budget, you look for all kinds of ways to decrease costs. That means working within the system and going outside of the system. For example, some places may give a discount for students--we ask for this discount when we are in the system. Or maybe there are established state campgrounds with no fee. We like this system. On the other hand, instead of entering the National Park (paying the entrance fee and the camp site fee), we turned off at a dumping site, followed the fire road to the river and set up at our own, private and FREE site. I'm not sure if gas stations are in or out of the system. At each fill up (we only go to half empty because it's not worth the risk of running out of gas 80 miles from the next station), we use the restroom, fill our water reservoir, get hot water (add our own tea/hot chocolate/oatmeal as desires) and find out pertinent local information. This kind of lifestyle breeds creativity and resourcefulness.

I smile a private smile sitting in the Princess Lodge in Denali, using their wireless access and telling inquisitive tourists, that yes, there is free DSL here in the lobby.

An Alaskan Fairytale (July 21, 2006)

Well, the screen timer just flashed at me that my internet time is almost up, but I did want to share as much of my Fairbanks experiences as I can.

The hospitality of old friends overwhelms me. The Piersons are still familiar, warm and generous like I remember from elementary school. I shake my head and laugh to see that even though our paths diverged for eighteen years, this momentary crossing reveals remarkable kindredness.

I went onto Ft. Wainwright where we had lived for four years. So much is changing. I went to what used to be the elementary school, and the first thing I remembered was almost blowing up the sink in the girls' bathroom by improperly disposing of acidic and basic solutions. We stopped at the shoppette, like a convenience store, and bought treats in memory of outings with Dad.

The best discovery is that the mural in the library is still up. It is of a parade of fanciful characters leading to a dark wood inhabited by moose, bears and unicorns. This is what I remember of childhood. Wonderful and strange juxtapositions of gypsies and fairies and owls and dragons.

Sorrow in Tok and Schizoid Questions

When my family drove up to Alaska in 1984 (or so), we passed through Tok; it's one of the first towns after the road turns to pavement when you're driving from Canada. We took a historic picture of the four kids on top of Bucky, the (stuffed) moose. On our way out of Alaska in 1988 (or so), we all mounted Bucky. He was looking a little bald, as I remember, but even so, I was really looking forward to seeing him again.
This morning, I asked the campground host where to find Bucky. Well, he was aging poorly, so he had been moved up to some hill. However, people mistook him for a real moose, and he got pretty shot up. It is much to my sorrow to announce that Bucky is no more.
****
Growing up one of the most difficult questions to answer simply and truthfully is: Where are you from? I standardized a response which began, "most recently from. . ." Where ever I was, it always seemed like I was from the place I had just left. Living in CA, I would tell people that I'm from PA; returning to Ridgway, PA, I would say that I'm from CA. I guess I was answering the question in terms of spatial history. The last place I was in, the place I had left was where I had come from.
At the beginning of this trip, moving through British Columbia and the Yukon Territory, the question felt more uncomfortable. As much as I had just come from PA, and much of my family is there, and would have to say that I am mostly a Pennsylvania girl, something feels off. Most of my fellow travelers are here on vacation, a little parenthesis in their established life back home, where they are from.
Not having an established life and not knowing where I will go next, I feel like a nomad. Now this is where I began to feel a bizarre split. Entering the northern wilderness memories flooded back: Rivers that run full of silt, fireweed, the smell of tundra, knowledge of permafrost, the sound of crows cawing. These are all part of me and my memories of childhood. I realized this morning that except for highschool, I spent more years at Chena Elementary (in Ft. Wainwright, AK) than any other school. This is not a small, distant part of my history, it is now a huge, looming presence.
There was a child went forth every day,
And the first object he look'd upon, that object he became,
And that object became part of him for the day or a certain part of the day,
Or for many years or stretching cycles of years. . .
These became part of that child who went forth every
day, and who now goes, and will always go forth
every day.
~~Walt Whitman

Quickly Before the Downpour (July 18, 2006)

One of the best parts of this trip has been the clouds--they rest and move between the mountains. From Mountaineering Freedom of the Hills, I have learned that the kind of clouds we're seeing mean a cold front is moving in, and to expect rain. So because I'm outside the internet cafe, I won't go into any deep thoughts or long stories because I might not be able to finish them.

So here are some snapshots: in the Tombstone Mountain Range of the Yukon Territory, Holly, some fellow hikers and I left the trail. We traversed this incredibly spongy, crunchy, mossy, lichenous ground. I couldn't resist flopping down in the middle of it. Besides being incredibly soft, it smelled of rosemary and something I couldn't place, but recognized from childhood times in the tundra.

Second, Steve at Braeburn Lodge let me pet Spike, his only friendly guard dog. He was so entertained by our stories, and his enthusiasm gave a whole new light to our journey and the gift of sharing the journey with whatever neighbors we have.

Third, MacDonald and Andre, two young men journeying up to spend time with the Dende (?sp) people gave us quite an education on everything from mountain formation, the oil industry and its impact on people and eco-systems, as well as nutrition. Holly quoted Stanley Jones: You will be the same person next year, save for the books you read and the people you meet. My what change is occurring.

Fourth, it has been such a gift to share what we have received, what has been provided--food, cooking equipment, etc. I did not expect to be confronted with my privilege and affluence on a journey through Canada; it's been disconcerting. This morning we read from Matthew about the different servants who have money and invest or don't invest. The puzzle of the statement that those who have little, even what they have will be taken away, and those who have much will receive more and have abundance struck me deeply. But somehow it was comforting. I don't understand this, and it seems unjust, inequitable and not something I would work for (concentration of wealth and widening gaps between haves and have-nots). This is just kind of mulling around right now, but I trust not just the truth of the statements but hope as well.

Beginnings (July 15, 2006)

There is so much to share, I hardly know where to start. Over a week ago, I left PA. Some highlights of the NY trip include a small playground with my nephews, a long trip to Target, time in Central Park seeing old friends and meeting their special someone, Air mattresses, Long Island pizza, and the smell of the bay.

Tuesday, I got into Seattle. Thuha hosted Holly and me as we unpackes, sorted, eliminated and repacked all our belongings. The bento platter at Musashi Sushi was off the hook, and thank goodness she recommended we buy chocolate chips at Trader Joes!

Yesterday morning, I sat beside Turquoise lake (North of Cache Creek, BC if you want to look it up), looking at the gray-orange rock face across the way. The face was right on the water, and then about 15 meters up, it was covered in moss, and the pine ascended its slopes to the ridgeline.

"Good Morning, Earth," my heart said, and I waited. I thought about how long the earth has been around and how it never sleeps, and is always ready to greet the children who venture to acknowledge it. For a time we just were, two entities enjoying and saluting each other. I was struck by the moment of being together; there was no active communication, and yet there was something good.

It made me think of how sometimes I really want actively communication with God--speak to me, send me a message, something, anything. In that anxiety, I miss just being (being myself, that is) and miss being with the Other. Maybe in this time, I will learn more communication skills, that before and beyond words. Skills are always good to have, but then again, maybe this is about something other than skills (ability and action).

What do you think?