Mount Susitna is a wonderful feature of the Anchorage cityscape. Also known as the Sleeping Lady for the way its silhouette, well, resembles a sleeping lady, it's visible from practically anywhere in the city. It's so close that newcomers (myself included) often mistake it for Denali because it looks as big as we seem to think the largest mountain in North America should look.
I'm especially fond of Mt Susitna near the equinoxes because the sun sets behind the mountain, casting gorgeous silhouettes. However, it's hard to get a real appreciation for the mountain unless you get outside of the city a bit. I managed to do just that on my hike to Wolverine Peak. The trail offers spectacular views of the city and the angle is just right to catch the Sleeping Lady watching over Anchorage. I love the view so much that this very nearly became the masthead for this summer over on Life in a Northern Town. Alas, it's a real challenge for something that is allegedly sleeping to portray the same joi de vivre exhibited by Sienna, so Susitna was barely edged out of place. Better luck next time to the Sleeping Lady.
If you want to see a larger version, click on the photo to download it.
It may very well be that the crippling soreness that's taken up residence in my calves these days can be attributed to my stubborn determination to drag my camera and all my lenses over 10 miles and up a mountain, but really, would a hike like that be worth it if you didn't bring that particular companion along to share the view?
A few of us - accompanied by two most excellent Alaska Adventure Dogs - conquered Wolverine Peak on Saturday. It's a hike I had been wanting to do for two years but had always been deterred not so much by the steepness or length, but by the supplies required by the length. The rapidly changing weather around the mountains plays a factor too. Let's just say that when I finally dragged my totally glycogen-depleted muscles up to that bit where there's no where else to go, only to be greeted by dense cloud cover completely obscuring any view, I was beyond disappointed, and if I hadn't been so focused on getting some fuel to my body I would have been pretty angry.
I sat down to eat a peanut butter sandwich (the cure for all bonks) and lo, before I had finished the clouds had rolled away to reveal a stunning vista into the Chugach Mountains, cleverly hidden from most hikers (including those who've conquered Flattop) by the front of the range. That view was all I needed - that hike was totally worth it.
This is my last summer in Alaska. I'm not dealing with that bit of information very well. Summer arrived oh, about a week ago, and I've been feeling the urge to spend every glorious, green, sunny, and amazing Alaska minute outside. As soon as I got off work today I took Sienna to our favorite haunt, University Lake, with my trusty camera in tow. It was a sparkling day and I snapped, oh, about three billion pictures of Sienna. So I'll be posting those for a while... The photo that I didn't get was of the moose I ran into. It scared the bujeezus outta me because it's time for the calves to be dropping, and I've already talked about how I don't like encountering moose with Sienna around, especially when baby moose may be involved. Luckily there was a lack of mooselet, so the critter I ran across today was probably still pregnant. I didn't really stick around long enough to tell. But I digress. So to mark my return to the photoblogosphere, I submit photographic evidence that Alaska really is the best place ever to have a furry four-legged friend.
One of the things I love about this photo is that it could have only been taken in September. Since Alaska is at such a high latitude, the place in the sky that the sun rises (and sets) changes dramatically as the length of the days waxes and wanes. The equinoxes are prettymuch the only time the sun rises in the east (forget that normal sun behavior you learned as a kid, that knowledge doesn't apply in Alaska!), but of course this couldn't have been taken in March -- just look at the leaves and the lack of snow! Anyway, I took this on the grey morning of September 14th, 2006, just as the sun had peeked over the Chugach Mountains and had set alight the fog that had settled over the city. My vantage point was Earthquake Park and downtown Anchorage is visible in the left side of the photo.
Click the image to see a larger version.
Sure, it's a sleepy, tiny little down, but I absolutely love Moose Pass. It's got attitude -- as you drive through the town you see signs declaring "Come in just for the halibut!" -- to go along with its mountains, lakes, and very high ratio of float planes per capita. I always stop there on my way to Seward for the pie, the halibut quesadillas, and the views. Trail Lake, which borders Moose Pass proper, is a beautiful glacial lake, stained green by the deposits that the ice has left behind. When juxtaposed with a mountain, a deep blue sky, and, of course, the requisite float plane, the scene is quite nice.
To Alaskans, fireweed is more than just one of the most recognizable parts of our landscape, a pioneer plant, one of the first bits of life to return to a glacier-scarred landscape or to revegetate a land ravaged by forest fire. It's also a warning of how much time you have left before winter hits. See, the blossoms start at the bottom of the stalk and work their way up as the summer progresses, and once they've reached the top you've got a scant six weeks until winter.
Though termination dust, the harsh harbinger of the coming of winter that I noticed last year has yet to appear, the fireweed is about spent. There are a few plants scattered about that still have a few blossoms stubbornly affixed to the top, but most have gone to seed and others' leaves have turned a bright, fiery red. Many of us have started lamenting this unfortunate fact, as though by culturing some fireweed in a greenhouse whose blossoms have just burst open at the bottom of the stalk we could buy more time.
So, in lieu of turning back the clock or vainly wishing for summer to last forever, I present this photo taken in mid-July, when the fireweed was still telling a more hopeful story.
Even on its coldest, wettest, most miserable summer days, Alaska is still a place that impresses and inspires awe.
On Cory's most recent visit we took the same wildlife cruise I took last year with my parents, and the weather could not have been more different. But even though it was rainy and foggy, the scenery was still amazing. The mountains all around were hiding their peaks in wispy fog, providing what may have been an even more interesting landscape.
Luckily, when we pulled into Holgate Arm to view the eponymous glacier, the glacial winds gave us a respite, which is good because my hands were almost so frozen that I couldn't use the camera in the first place. While we were viewing the massive ice formations around us, enthralled by the lone seal chilling on an ice floe just feet from the glacier, someone spotted a bald eagle above. I just started snapping pictures like crazy(er) and was very pleasantly surprised to capture this stunning, beautiful, and understated result.
I already kinda felt like I was cheating by taking photographs in Alaska. I am a mediocre landscape photographer at best, but it's not like it's hard to get amazing images here. I have felt doubly dishonest in the last week though: with changing leaves and rainbows and sunsets (that happen before midnight, mind you!), and with them all happening simultaneously, how could I not be cheating? I'd be like the worst photographer in the world if I couldn't pull off something aesthetically pleasing.
So even though I feel like I'm swindling the world (despite the fact that I run this site for my own amusement and not cash) I'm posting images captured in the middle of Anchorage (again with the cheating!). It's just the beginning of fall, so I'm already planning my next adventures.
View the remainder of "Fall begins in Anchorage"
The whole area around Eklutna Lake is amazing, not least of all because of the tremendous variance in landscape around it. On a hike to Thunderbird Falls we passed this canyon, at the bottom of which is the Eklutna River. Tress were growing straight up out of the rock, somehow surviving and thriving, a testament to the tenacity of life. I can't wait to go back in the fall -- I'm sure the colors along this canyon wall are breathtaking.
Stunning is always the word that comes to mind whenever I try to explain Eklutna Lake. A glacial lake tucked back from the road, it is so closely surrounded by mountains that it seems impossible, surreal. Going out there on a clear day reveals colors like I have hardly ever known before. It is simply beyond beautiful.
View the remainder of "Eklutna Lake, June 2006"
The highlight of today's hike came when I was polishing my macro skills: I found blueberries! This was followed by a discovery of raspberries, which sealed the deal: this is the Best. Hike. Ever.
View the remainder of "Turnagain Arm Trail -- good enough to eat"
Today was a perfect Alaska day.
I finally got to do a hike I've been wanting to do since I first discovered Turnagain Arm: the trail off of the Potter Creek trailhead. It's a beautiful hike, peaceful, and not difficult -- it's worth it in every way imaginable.
View the remainder of "Turnagain Arm Trail"
Cory (of he-gave-me-the-D50 fame) came to visit me on his mid-tour leave. Since we only get to see each other about every three months, we made the most of it. However, since Alaska is really, really big, (if you divided Alaska in half, what would that make Texas? The third largest state! Oh, I love this place) there are still many many places for us to go together, so we've barely even touched the tip of the iceberg in our adventures. Wherever we went, we dedicated time to rectifying the we-have-no-pictures-of-us problem. The following pictures were composed by me on a tripod and snapped using the D50's remote.
View the remainder of "Stacey and Cory's Alaska Adventure, June 2006"
I used to think that the drive along the Columbia River Gorge was one of the most beautiful in the world.
Alaska, however, has proved me ignorant: the drive south from Anchorage along Turnagain Arm now takes the cake and reminds one of the Gorge farther south, yet is many times more majestic and breathtaking.
Further travels around Alaska may prove me wrong again, and I intend to give you the photographic evidence to prove it. Until then, I leave you with this, one photo of what should have been a panorama, if only I had the money to spend on a professional-level photo-stitching program.
Click on the image for a larger-resolution view.
