It took me more then two weeks to drive north to check out the pipeline. Two weeks of hardly any exercise, two weeks of sitting in the Oto. And now I am back in Anchorage and I feel I have to get out and the most obvious choice is to go hiking at Hatcher pass north of Palmer.
Merely having any endorphin addiction left in my body, its 17:30 before I leave the parking lot. Instantly I feel the relieve of moving again. The sun is out, the rain is out, making a mosaic of light along the valley walls. With many more hours of sunlight and only 8 miles of walking to my destination, the Mint Glacier hut, I take my time. Its not totally clear where the cabin is located at the end of the valley, but I have put the coordinates in my GPS at home. The last 800 meters go uphill, and when I arrive on top of a little ramp after 400 meters, there is no hut in sight. I check the GPS again, 400 meters in front of me there should be a hut, and with 23:00 on the clock it would be nice to see it. But in front of me is just a solid granite wall and no hut. I check my GPS again, 400 meters + ah I get it, 500 meters of altitude gain. Looking around I see the trail snaking its way up far to the left on the valley wall. I am not totally sure where I will find the strength to do that, but at least I can give it a try. I am tired and my backpack is way to heavy and every 5 minutes I need a break.
Its time to give up and pitch up my tent, but hold on; Bear tracks in the snow, my hand glides automatically towards my bear spray, its still there. Pitching up a tent now, would mean cooking outside away from the tent and in the rain, not something I am up for right now. I drag myself further up the trail and finally at 1:00 I see the little red cabin perched high above the valley floor, 400 meters away but this time with 0 meters elevation difference. The cabin is very well equipped and I am the only one occupying it. I make soup, tea and some more tea and hit bed, right after that.
When I wake up, its already late and rain, snow and wind are trying to isolate my little red cabin from the world. I make a quick decision. I am going to spend the day here, making jigsaw puzzles and enjoying my time alone. Its nice to live high up in the mountains all alone, who needs meditation when you can have this.
In the evening beaten down by the weather, A and her daughter H are joining me. Coming from red-neck Wasilla (Sarah Palins home town), but obviously being the opposite herself, A is a very interesting woman to talk to. Its late when we finally make it into bed. The snow keeps falling the whole night, and we wake up with 10 cm fresh snow in the morning.
My original plan was to do a 3 day loop and with a glance on the map, I decide I can still continue the route. During packing my much lighter backpack most of the snow is melting away. I start scrambling up the boulder field leading to the pass with fresh legs and a fresh mind. The boulders are pretty big, and the higher I come the more slippery they get. Its getting a bit tricky to move forwards. Near the pass more snow is covering the ground and I have to use all my concentration to keep myself from falling. After 2 hrs of hard work I am at the top and see a huge snow field in front of me. The idea is to traverse the field before dropping down over the next pass. Its looks easy and with a smile on my face, I pull out my gamaschen, an extra layer of clothes and my tracking poles. It takes only one step into the snow to changes the smile into a grim. I am post-holing until my hips into the snow. I try two more steps, with the same result. This is so not going to work. I turn around and try to make it back to the pass. This is however not obvious and I become a little scared. Is it possible to sink even more into the snow? It might be really thick, I might not make it back to the pass. I take a moment to rest and think. Spreading of weight and using my trekking poles for leverage should do the trick. With all my strength I drag myself back to the pass. There is no way I am going to make it trough this snow field, my only option is to turn around and head back. With a cold wind blowing over the pass, I start scrambling down immediately. Ahead of me are 7 hrs of hiking back to the Oto, something not to think of at this moment.
Scrambling down is even worse then scrambling up snow covered boulders, and it takes it all out of me. Near the bottom of the valley I sit down for the first time, and take a moment to relax and eat. I better enjoy this hike back through the valley, otherwise its will become a long drag. And so my eyes wonder along the slopes looking for the white dots indicating mountain sheep. I stop to look at all the wild flowers along the trail.
I sing, I tell stories to myself, I spend some time watching the beavers fortifying their dam. After 9 hrs of hiking I hitch hike back to the Oto, which is parked up the road. Its 21:00 and that gives me only one hour to make the drive to Sutton. With only 3 minutes left, I ran to the podium to be just in time to see my friends from Fairbanks playing at the Granite Creek Bluegrass festival. I am tired and my legs are sore, but with good music I can always dance. And that is what I do for the rest of the weekend.
Dag,
Iris (Hatcher pass, 9360 miles)
