Gilbeau Pass -- the way down

It is impossible to capture the grandeur of the Brooks Range mountains in photos.  At best they can only provide a template for the imagination or memory.

The sky was often as magnificent as the landscape.

With a last look at the peaks surrounding Gilbeau Pass we began our descent.

Dall's sheep (Photo credit:  George Michaels)

I haven't mentioned wildlife yet.  We saw small groups of caribou, small and larger groups of Dall's sheep, two grizzlies,  golden eagles and lots of meadow voles and arctic ground squirrels -- more about them later.  My camera was not up to good wildlife photos (with one exception to be included in the next post).  George's photo of the Dall's sheep (above) was taken very near the top of Gilbeau Pass.

One of our most pleasant campsites (read soft, dry tundra) turned out to be what we later dubbed Vole City.  There were hundreds if not thousands of resident meadow voles and their little holes were reminiscent of Hobbit communities.  They were not happy that many of their routes were blocked by huge alien tents.  Talk about "no impact" camping...  We left hoping they would recover as we did no permanent damage to the site.

A not very clear photo of one of the voles

The campsite in descending clouds and mist

The rainbow appeared at a "rest break" -- another of our many weather phenomena

The kitchen tent was always the first to go up.  As there is no way to guard food from bears in this type of terrain ("bear barrels" are very heavy and are only left at airstrips), all food was deposited at night in the kitchen tent.  We ate most of our meals inside the tent as it was usually quite cold in the early morning and evening.

The view from my tent at one of our campsites

My tent the next morning!

Bear tracks alongside a walking-stick to provide perspective

An "aufeis" in the river drainage

Aufeis is German for "ice on top".  It is a sheet-like mass of layered ice that forms from successive flows of ground water during freezing temperatures (Wikipedia).  This one is an accumulation from last winter.

The figure in the midst of the aufeis gives some idea of its size.

Cynthia, Ivor and Theo waiting beside the "bear barrels" for our flight to the Spring Creek airstrip.

Jeff (the photographer) and George (who I came to regard as my guardian angel) on the flight to Spring Creek

From the flight between Collins and Spring Creek airstrips -- another aufeis

A view of the mountains from the plane -- the colors of the vegetation are becoming richer and deeper

We needed two separate flights for all 7 of us to get from Collins to Spring Creek.  Here Dirk is landing with the second group.

Spring Creek -- where we began the ascent to Carter Pass

The Brooks Range -- 2 passes in 2 weeks

...  50 miles carrying a backpack that weighed 50 pounds.  Yes, I did it!

I will break up these posts into 4 parts with possibly a 5th on tundra plants and rocks.  This post will highlight the portion of the trip from Arctic Village to the top of Gilbeau Pass.  The next will cover the return from Gilbeau to Collins airstrip.  The third will describe the climb to Carter Pass, and the fourth, the descent down the North Slope to the Marsh Fork of the Canning River and the flight back to Arctic Village.

Although photos and words can approximate the physical details of the experience, the essence of it is far more difficult to convey.  The following poem by Wen Chao comes close to evoking the inner experience (even though there are no gibbons in the Brooks Range).

HEARING THE GIBBONS CALL 

IN PA GORGE

As I lean

On my oar, gazing

At the cloud-line, purity

Emerges, deep and lonely,

From the Gorge.

When the mind

Doesn't have anything

On it, there's no sorrow

Inherent in repeated calls.  They bear

The dew where every peak is distant, 

Dangle in space where a slice

Of Moon shines

Bright.

Whoever 

Hears it like this

Can finish a poem

By dawn.

In "The Clouds Should Know Me by Now" by Wen Chao; quoted in Daily Wisdom:  365 Buddhist Inspirations Edited by Josh Bartok. Wisdom Publications, 2003.

The trip was a very empowering experience -- I feel I could do ANYTHING now (well, maybe not run the Iditarod, but ...).

View of the Brooks Range from the airstrip at Arctic Village

Our plane -- a 6-seater Coyote Air Beaver expertly piloted by Dirk (in the red jacket) 

Flying out from Arctic Village

Over a drainage and approaching the mountains

The East Fork of the Chandalar River where we landed at Collins airstrip

 (named for a famous bush pilot)

As the plane leaves us on the tundra, one becomes aware of the true remoteness of this arctic wilderness

We hiked up a knob adjacent to the airstrip for lunch.  In the far distance we glimpsed the headwaters of the Sheenjek River 

Our first campsite on the banks of the East Fork of the Chandalar

This view of the river is similar to many of the "drainages" we followed over the two weeks

Much of the trip also crossed soft and hard tundra

The weather was always an important factor.  We experienced rain, biting wind, lateral sleet, hail,  snow, fog (or low clouds), and a very few sunny but not very warm days -- but we did not have mosquitoes to contend with.  My sleeping bag (Ann's) is rated to 20 degrees F. but I had to sleep with long underwear + fleece pants, a heavy fleece jacket as well as a light down jacket to keep warm.  I also used toe warmers between two pair of socks on all but one night.

The mountains of the Brooks Range are austere.  Where there was vegetation, it was rapidly donning rich fall colors over the two weeks we were there.

Typical terrain of a "drainage"

We crossed a large number of rivers/creeks/streams -- many of which were fast running with very slippery rocks.  In places it was difficult to find places where the water was no higher than our knees.  As this drainage became narrower and narrower the water rushed faster and became deeper.  

We then were driven to climb to the tundra above.  Some of these climbs were very steep -- perfectly manageable on an ordinary hike but challenging with a 50 lb. pack.

For example... this was not at all exceptional.

Another magical campsite...

It is difficult to provide perspective on the landscapes -- note the figure in the the river bed.

... and again, the figure just at the base of the mountain.

The group at the top of Gilbeau Pass -- this was an extraordinarily beautiful day

The lake just below the pass (unnamed as are many features in this wilderness) conveys some sense of the serenity ...

This is a view of the valley on the other side of the pass.  It stretches down the North Slope where the unnamed river eventually joins the Hulahula River.

Although I could write a lot about the trip, I am hoping the photos better convey the grandeur and exceptional nature of this wilderness -- it is unique and humbling.

Outdoors in and around Fairbanks

To live in Alaska ... you must enjoy the outdoors.  Or, pretend that you do.  Why?  Simple.  People have to justify moving this far north, somehow, and many do not want to admit the truth:  They're just here for the money.  So, love of the outdoors is a handy cover story, because what Alaska has the most of is outdoors.  If you believe people forced to go to the bathroom in the bushes are going to let you get away with staying in the city, think again. 

So, if you want to have any friends, you're going to have to go outdoors.   You're going to have to pack a bunch of gear, maybe load it into a Weasel or some other big piece of stuff (there is a funny chapter in the book on the difference between "gear" and "stuff"), and head for the boonies.  And you're not going to be able to just Weasel around for the weekend, either.  When you are outdoors, you actually have to do something.

What you have to do depends on where you are.  If you live in Rural or Road Alaska, you have to destroy something.  That something can be trees, cut down for logs or firewood, or a stream, bulldozed while mining.  But it's far better if the something has some chance, however remote, of eluding you.  That, after all, is why fishing and hunting are considered sports, even though the sport involved in four-wheeling up to an unarmed moose and shooting it with a large-caliber weapon is difficult for some people to see.  No other outdoor activity is considered as manly as killing something.  Besides, if you live far enough from a supermarket, you might need to eat it.

From:  Fashion Means Your Fur Hat is Dead:  A Guide to Good Manners and Social Survival in Alaska by Mike Doogan.

This book is really very funny, but I am not sure how much of the humor can be appreciated without the experience of living up here.  This post is a random assortment of photos from various hikes on trails in and around Fairbanks.

Ballaine Lake is on the UAF campus.

A number of pleasant trails start here.  

Birches on one of the many UAF trails

Northern Green Bog Orchid (Platanthera hyperborea)

This was the second wild orchid I found -- and amazingly there are patches of them along Willow Run Road.  They are very fragrant and bloom only in July.

Yellow Spotted Lady Slipper (Cypripedium passerinum)

This was the first orchid I encountered -- on the UAF Calypso Trail.  Seen in June, they have already quit blooming.  There is also a Calypso orchid but they bloomed (in May) before I discovered this trail

Alpine Arnica (Arnica alpina, ssp. angustifolia)

Butterfly

I should mention here that I have no intention of learning about butterflies.  Identifying birds and flowers is complicated and stressful enough.  (I know of a few mistakes I have made already and will eventually go back and correct them.)

Grass of Parnassus, or Bog Star (Parnassia palustris)

Sandhill cranes at Creamer's Field

Butter and Eggs, or Toadflax (Linaria vulgaris)

This is either Wild Sweet Pea or Eskimo Potato.  My book says they are easily confused -- which would seem to be quite a problem as the root of one is poisonous and the other is eaten raw or cooked by natives.

Northern Bedstraw (Galium boreale)

Boreal owl seen on a true "slog" though a bog with water higher than our knee-high boots in places -- the only dry ground was the top of tall tussocks that were quite difficult to balance on.  The weather was hot and the mosquitoes out in force.  The dogs loved it, though.

Meadow of Fireweed and Wild Rhubarb

 

Squirreltail Grass (Hordeum jubatum)

Pretty but dangerous to pets.  The spiked seeds can lodge in their throats requiring medical attention.  Alaskan Wildflowers Commonly seen along the Highways and Byways (Verna E. Pratt)

Moose in Goldstream Creek

Close-up

Here I will share Mike Doogan's description of the 4th of July:

Holidays in Alaska aren't like holidays anywhere else.  Take the Fourth of July.  Most Alaska communities have fireworks displays, even though it never gets dark (not Fairbanks, however).  Imagine a crowd of people standing around a baseball field.  Something goes bang.  The crowd ooohs.  A few seconds later, up in the bright summer sky, something goes pop.  The crowd ahhhs.  After an hour or so of that, everybody goes home.

No matter how hard everyone tries, it just isn't the same as watching a fireworks display somewhere it's dark enough to see the fireworks.

(Same as previous Doogan reference)

Ya gotta luv it here!