7/25/04

Lots of photos on this one! The past couple of weekends have been busy for us, as they have been for most Alaskans. I’ve quickly discovered that folks don’t sit around home on weekends during the summer here in Alaska, as there are woefully too few of them. The main question on Monday morning when we all get back to work is “where did you go fishing?”

Two weekends ago, we decided to try to hike to the peak of the mountain that sits directly behind the house, about 4000 feet. We started a mile up the road in a spot that wasn’t overgrown with willows (the Alaskan version of alders) and planned on cutting across and up to “our” mountain.

I guess it goes to show that technology has its limitations. After pouring over topo maps and taking sightings and GPS readings, we headed out. We ended up bushwhacking through hip deep scrub brush before finally making it up into the tundra where the hiking was easier. By then, though, we were on a very steep incline, and falling would have meant tumbling down several hundred feet before fetching up on a rock or whatever.

We kept going until we finally reached an out-cropping at 3500 feet and discovered our way blocked in every direction. After enjoying the sights, we headed back down a chute that was steep enough that we could have slid down on our backsides. It was a good time outdoors and we enjoyed it, but it took a week for our legs to stop quivering every time we went up and down stairs!

This past weekend we loaded up the camper and headed up to a campsite on the Denali Highway, about 4 hours away from the house. Another thing about Alaska-- small towns of 3000 are called cities, and some dirt roads are called highways. The Denali Highway is one such.

After traveling down the first 30 miles of the 135 mile “highway”, we came to our campground on the Brushkana River. We got set up, then headed to the river with a fly rod, as the river has a good population of wild grayling. We caught a few fish that evening, and many more over the next day.

The Brushkana is not unlike the Carrabassett in Maine, my favorite river. There were 4 major differences, though. We were fishing for grayling, not brookies; we were wearing our fleece jackets in July; I was keeping an eye out for gold nuggets instead of the golf balls that wash down from Sugarloaf; and I had a can of bear spray in my waders. Anyway, it was nice to be able to use my 7 ½ foot fly rod and dry flys again! We both had a good time.

Two weekends from now, we’re both going to Seattle for an anesthesia conference for a week. Busy, busy, busy!!

Hiking the mountain:

From the Denali Highway: