Independently Me

desert soul

It’s been six weeks since I moved to this Southeast Alaskan rainforest. This small town is nestled on the edge of an island consumed mostly by the rock and forest of the Tongass National Forest.

I have had opportunity to wander into its borders by way of paths and trails, rarely stepping off for fear of sinking knee deep into the surrounding muck. The scenery brings countless varieties of moss, ground cover and giant first and second-growth trees. Shaded by hemlock and cedar, the bushes grow offering up their edible berries and neon colors.

The light here is magical. I rise early in the morning, catching my first glimpses of the Narrows at 6 a.m. and the sun is already above Deer Mountain, showing its light to the island across the water and bathing the town in sunlight. The air is still cool though and I open all my windows to let the breeze wake up the apartment and clear away the sleep.

Most days are overcast, negating the need for sunglasses or vision-obscuring hats. It allows for a spectacular picture because faces and spaces are absent of harsh shadows. Though my equipment is subpar and, even in the short while I’ve lived here, I have discovered the need for a faster camera lens. (To accommodate this I’ll be trying to save my pennies in hopes I’ll be able to afford one around Christmas.)

The community arts director recently said to me, “If you notice when the sun isn’t shining how many greens there are outside from neon green all the way to the deep dark mysterious green,” she said. I wholeheartedly agree with her. Since our conversation a few weeks ago, I have been more aware of the color, especially the green, since it is everywhere.

Literally, it is everywhere. Even the cement is green, playing host to various types of moss and plants that find ways to grow out of rock.

But in all this green and lush beauty, part of me misses the desert. The sand and dry heat that sinks in and warms my insides. The Joshua trees of Southern California and the bright orange poppies that blanket the hillsides in spring. I even miss the Utah desert. The red rocks and scrub oaks are calling my name, I can just feel it.

Though I sometimes wonder if what I am missing most are the memories and comfort that comes when you are someplace familiar. It seems that I am off on this great Alaskan adventure, determined to stick it out and at least really learn how to fish while I am here. But I find that I miss the warmth.

I haven’t missed the Mojave Desert in maybe... ever. I have missed the home I grew up in and has since been sold for new small children to live in and explore buried treasures in the backyard. But it wasn’t until moving to this lush, green rock in Alaska that I truly missed the dry, hot, vast expanse that is the desert. I miss being able to see for miles.

While I was in Connecticut a couple years ago I exclaimed that I had never seen so many trees, a statement that drew laughter after every retelling. That experience has been severely dwarfed by my current one.

And I miss my friends. They are all camping and boiling in the summer heat and I am unbelievably jealous.

A dear friend recently reminded me that the grass is always greener on the other side. But I think she meant to say sagebrush.

The sagebrush is always greener on the other side.

my home desert

dead birds and power lines

Standing next to my car and having a raven drop dead out of the sky next to me was certainly a weird way to start my day.

Last week we had a power outage that lasted a few hours in the late morning. There was a problem at the hydroelectric dam and the whole island was out of power for about 3 hours or so. The running joke is, when the power goes out, the public utilities blames it on an eagle. Apparently, while the birds are beautiful, they are extremely dumb. At least, that’s what I’ve been told. I’ve never been close enough to an eagle to ask him.

So when a bird was zapped by a power line and dropped to the street right next to me, all I could do was look at the thing and see if it was an eagle. Thank goodness for me it was a plain old raven and not a bald eagle. I really think I would have had a different reaction if it was a baldy, though I can’t say I would have been shocked. And after standing there looking at the dead bird for a minute or two, I got in my car and drove off. Like it was something I see everyday. Which, of course, it isn’t.

snapshots: part three

A moment from some morning April 2013:

"I catch the 7 o'clock bus where everyone is feeling a bit lethargic and keeping to themseleves and their earphone and books. Me included.

I notice a few rows in front of me a man with curly white hear, a beret balanced on his head. He is holding a Kindle mere inches from his nose and his head bobs left to right like a typewriter. The font on the device is set very large, I can almost read it from where I sit 10 feet behind him. I could see what he was doing and it was not strange.

But a few seats in front of him was a man who boarded the bus at my same stop. He had been pacing and wiggling his hand while he waited. He sat in a half-hunch half scowling around the bus.

When he notices the whote haired head bobbing while reading the Kindle, his scowl turns from a half-scowl to a three-quarter scowl. And then he yawns.

Slowly his three-quarter scowl turns to a Braveheart yawn. You know that face Mel Gibson makes while playing William Wallave in Braveheart? That face that just happens when he yells about freedom?

"They can take our lives, but they will never take our freedom!"

That face. As I sit upon this 7 a.m. bus, watching a white haired man bob his head from left to right, and William Wallace yawn in my direction, I wonder how many other senedipitous moments I missed while keeping my head down and minding my own business."

 edited for tense and clarity

rainbird trail

The past handful of days have been absolutely beautiful. I know I've said that before, but this last weekend brought sunshine and absolutely clear blue skies. Sunday was warmer than 80 degrees and it was just the thing I needed to feel like my spunky self.

I knew ahead of time that Saturday was going to be gorgeous so I planned to hike early before meeting up with Danelle and the search and rescue dogs. I decided to tackle the Rainbird trail with Ellie.

We picked it up at the trailhead behind the University of Alaska Southeast Ketchikan campus. The trailhead leads right out of the parking lot and is a couple miles from the house so it is super convenient. Conceivably, we could walk to the trailhead that is closest to us, about a mile, instead of driving all the way to the college. But then we would have a LOT of stairs to deal with.

We went the whole length of the trail and came back. It was a nice walk, about 2.25 miles round trip with about 145 feet elevation change. It's a nice flat trail once you get up to it, though there are just a couple spots in the middle that can be a bit steep and would have the potential to be slippery in the rain.

There are a couple other entrances to the trail, one at the other end and in about the middle. They both use stairs to access the trail. A lot of stairs. If you start at the college there aren't any stairs and there is a nice little incline at the very beginning, but it doesn't last very long.

Ellie handled the trail really well. I had done it once earlier in the week for work and I thought there might be a couple tricky spots for her but she handled it like a champ. It's also not Forest Service land so she is free to roam without a leash.

search and rescue

Saturday mid-morning I met up with Danelle from Rain City K9 for some search and rescue dog practice. I had volunteered to "get lost" for the dogs. She mentioned that the dogs don't get a lot of opportunity to pratice in the heat so it was a good day to be out in the woods for a few hours.

When we got started I wasn't quite sure what to expect. 

I got "lost" four times and each time I found the dogs to be just hilarious. In theory, it is a game of fetch, but the dog has found something too big for them to bring to their master, so they have to bring thier  master to the thing. The dog finds me and then runs back and barks, letting the master know the dog found something. Then the dog makes these mad dashes back and forth between me and their master until she reaches me and "finds" me. The dogs get so excited once they find you, it cracked me up everytime.

After we were done working the dogs, all six went swimming in the pond and having a great time. It was so much fun and I'll definitely be looking to do that again.

I took a little video of Aida finding me. She was so funny and it's really fun when they find you because you can just tell they are so excited to do their job. And then when you throw the toy for them afterward they are just in doggy heaven.

 

 

 I didn't take Ellie with me since the other dogs were working dogs and Ellie would have had to stay in the car while they completed their exercises. I'm convinced she would love playing with the dogs, as long it is wasn't in the water and they didn't get too rough. Plus, I didn't think her little legs would do very well in the deep brush. She stayed home in the shade and napped off the hike we took earlier.

 

 

snapshots: part two

This quick note was created April 27 as I sorted and packed and prepared to move. I came across it "by chance" today.  I remember the emotion vividly. Though it has since passed and there is no sadness, the memory of the sadness is close to the surface again.

~~~

"It seems to be one of those days where the smallest moment reduces me to a puddle of tears. A sweet message, a statement of courage, a kind act, a romantic gesture all have the power to send my facade of strength crumbling to swim in my moat of emotion. 

 Packing and sorting last night was difficult. There are so many items I purchased because they were beautiful and the perfect thing. It's hard to start over when those perfect things are still perfect, but for a different life. And when that different life is trying to push itself back to the surface, and you are treading lightly on the cracked glass, getting rid of those perfect things is that much more trying. 

 Each perfect piece was purchased for a reason and holds sentimental value. Each one filled with a good memory and feeling. It's hard to separate the clothing from the feeling even though I know the memories stay with me. It is only the clothing that is leaving."

~~~

carlanna lake

During my lunch break Friday I went over to the Discovery Center and picked up the Ketchikan Area Trails Guide. To my surpise, and delight, it was free, not printed with an ink jet printer and spiral bound. Score! It has listed 24 hikes plus a handful of remote trails. 

Each trail is complete with directions to the trailhead, a description of the hike and a map. I will happily attempt to hike them all during my stay here.

So this weekend, armed with my handy new trail guide, animal and plant guides and bear info, Ellie and I headed up to Carlanna Lake and then to the end of the trail where it turns into Minerva Mountain Trail. Minerva Mountain Trail is a primitive trail and since I have yet to aquire good map and compass skills, I didn't attempt it.

But even ending where we did, the hike was about 4 miles round trip with about 1,260 net elevation. Not a bad little hike. the trails here are very well maintained and marked which is pretty nice. Though they are covered with crushed rock and I think it hurts Ellie's feet. We'll have to experiment a little more with that. 

The other thing to note is fishing is allowed at Carlanna Lake year round. And since the lake itself is only .25 miles from the parking lot it's a totally viable option.

Anyway, it was a beautiul day and we did get a little rain on the way down, which didn't bother me at all. Surprise surprise. Oddly enough I had sort of wanted to see a bear, but I was relieved to end up back at the car without seeing one. I should find out how common it is to see one while hiking. Also, note to self, get a bell to attach to my pack. And Ellie.

And bonus, upon arriving home my first box from SLC had arrived and was waiting for me at the door. What a happy sight.