“A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.” Lao-tzu, Chinese philosopher
Six years and two months ago, I was out for a sunny afternoon bike ride when a car suddenly turned in front of me. I smashed straight into the passenger side, flew up over the roof, hit the trunk and landed flat on my back on the pavement. The damage total was a severely broken forearm that required two metal plates and twelve screws to repair, a broken collarbone and shoulder blade, and six broken ribs. Ouch.
Every October for the past 14 years, Scott and I travel to a quiet island in the southern Bahamas for a little sun and relaxation. Scott is an avid fly fisherman, I am a certified scuba diver, and we both enjoy a short period of sun and relaxation in between our busy summer work season and the long, cold, snowy winter season. Our primary recreational pursuits in Juneau involve getting out in the backcountry and away from town, so it should be no surprise that we seek the same experience on our vacation.
This summer has been a challenge when it comes to hiking, yet somehow I have managed to have almost more than my share of local adventure. I've been creative in my choice of places, and I'm lucky in that I can choose odd days off in exchange for working weekends. This past week I had the extra benefit of having the same day off as my favorite hiking partner, my husband Scott. I knew that if I wanted to take full advantage of good weather and a willing partner, I needed to pick somewhere special. That gave me an easy solution - Grandchild Peaks ridge.
“Yoga is 99% practice and 1% theory” - Sri K. Pattabhi Jois of Mysore, India
This week I will be 60 years old. I’ve been thinking about this birthday for a while, as is the trend with those big decade landmarks.
My blogs are often easy to write. I love to share my stories about my adventures outdoors and the words usually flow out on to the page. This one has been very difficult to write. I’ve started and stopped and started over again about half a dozen times over the past couple of weeks
After a little over three hours of steady hiking we were just below the summit of Mt. McGinnis, but the only way we knew that was from the elevation reading on my GPS watch. The fog was so thick that all we could do was focus on the steep dirt trail that winds up the final ridge. We kept hoping the fog and clouds would lift when we started out that morning, and for the most part they did, but only to about 2,000’. So, alas, there were to be no views from the summit for us today. Should we keep going anyway?
I’m sitting in my easy chair by the fire, thinking about how cold and beautiful it was up at Eaglecrest today. The cross country ski trail was nicely set, with all 5.8 km twisting and turning across meadows, hills, and woods in a lovely pattern. My skis were waxed just right. I felt like I was flying along in perfect rhythm on the groomed classic track. The temperature was in the single digits, but I was warm from the exertion of my steady kick and glide motion.
Back in the early 1970’s, a girlfriend and I decided to try and climb Mt. Bullard, which is the first big mountain to the right side of the glacier as you are looking from the Mendenhall Glacier Visitor Center. We went up the West Glacier trail, crossed the Mendenhall Glacier and camped on the low shoulder of the mountain. The weather was hot and sunny, and this being the early 70’s, we did not know much about proper hydration and sun protection.