Chapter 8

Averting Disaster and Farewell

Surprisingly I’m able to get a weak cellphone signal here.  I find myself checking the time every hour or so.  The rain and wind continue through the entire night.  Sleep is a distant dream of luxury.  We had planned to hike down this southern face of Bear Mountain and visit Bear Lake but I don’t know if that is such a good idea with this weather.  At around five in the morning I send a text message to my wife asking her to check the Sitka weather forecast for today.  I anxiously wait for her response.  Ben wakes up and I share my thoughts.  We both agree that we should return back down the mountain if the weather is going to remain bad.  About an hour later the verdict comes in the form of a text message – rain all day today and tomorrow.

Surrounded by gray

Ben wants to continue down the south side.  I propose that we return the same way we came because at least we know it is doable.  If we go down the south side we could find ourselves in a situation like in July when we did the Mount Verstovia hike and ended up hanging blindly on cliffs most of the night.  We just don’t know what it is going to be like when we get down into the trees below.  Ben is convinced that it won’t be that bad but then I remind him how deceiving the visuals are in the mountains.  We thought we would easily jog down Mount Verstovia in about an hour and instead it took us six hours and we were vulnerable to so many potential disasters.  Recalling that night helps and Ben agrees to return the way we came.

The way back is up into the clouds and over the ridge

We do our best to get fully geared up in our clothes while under the tarp then slip out into the elements and hurry to pack everything into our rucks.  There is hardly any visibility in any direction as we are in the middle of the clouds.  Below us is grey and up is grey.  Now out of food we will have to rely on berries along the way as our only source of nourishment.  Slowly we make our way up the rocky slope we climbed down yesterday.  As rocks shift under our weight we are reminded of the bear we heard in the night.  Ben quickly gets to the top of the ridge and waits for me there.  To me every step feels like I’m carrying a hundred pounds on my shoulders.  I pause frequently to rest but it does nothing to help.  I am simply fully exhausted.  I need food and rest.

Finally I succeed in crossing over the ridge.  Ben defines a new more direct path through and across the center of the crater to the north side to avoid taking the long way around by the eastern edge as we did yesterday however we can’t see anything below us due to the cloud that fills the crater.  We know the general direction and just follow our instincts recalling in our minds the pattern of rocks we observed yesterday.  The plan works well and we find our way into the bottom of the crater and cross right by that beautiful glacial pool we saw yesterday.

Inside the crater the wind is no more and the rain is just a wet mist that slowly penetrates our clothes.  As we continue across the creek by our first campsite we serve ourselves some delicious water and fill our bottles.  Every campsite becomes a special memory almost like the home a person grows up in.  I feel a solemn sense of gratitude and relive good memories as we pass by our campsite of that first night recalling the immense peace I felt that night as we slept safely in the middle of this vast wilderness.  The stars in the heaven that night were so beautiful and during the day we ate fresh nutritious and tasty berries rich in anti-oxidants.  This place has a special place in my heart.

Going down a mountain is physically easier and less exhausting than climbing up however going down also has its disadvantages.  Once we get down into the trees the steep soft soil we clawed up on the way up has now become soggy wet.  When climbing up you can see in the direction you are going but when climbing down you can’t see well where you are stepping.  Inevitably, with the descent and soaked topsoil we end up sliding down several mudslides.  This is mostly harmless because the soil is quite soft but there is always the risk of sliding onto tree root or flipping headfirst because we are made top-heavy with our backpacks.  Fortunately with every slide we just got muddier.

There is no wind down in the forest, just a cool damp mist.  We did our best to follow the same path we climbed up two days earlier but somehow end up on the opposite side of a field of devil’s club extending over about fifty feet of ground.  We can’t seem to find a easy way around it so I just decide to hack my way through while Ben chooses to slide down another muddy hill.  Those prickly branches of devil’s club were used medicinally by the Tlingit people.  It is found throughout the forests but I hadn’t seen such a large patch of them like this one.  At the far end of the devil’s club another bush with similar leaves and stalks as devil’s club but lacking thorns grows among them.  This is a bush that I haven’t yet been able to identify but it produces delicious plump bluish-white berries. I reach among the thorny devil’s club to gather as many as I can and stuff them in my mouth.

A short distance later we once again find ourselves off track.  There’s no mistaking that we are going in the general right direction, we’re going down and that will eventually lead us to the Herring Cove Trail, but the terrain gets more complex when we find ourselves it what has the eerie appearance of a mass graveyard for trees.  Tall thick-trunked pine trees lie criss-crossing over each other on the land.  It looks as though they simply fell over at a time when maybe there was more rain than usual and the soil became very soft.  It feels like a life size game of chutes and ladders as we make our way over a complicated maze of fallen trees scouting ahead for the safest and easiest route.  Trees without bark are extremely slippery and require careful foot placement to avoid slipping off and falling up to eight feet onto the surface of unknown objects below.

After another mudslide we make it through the graveyard and to a small muddy stream.  With our clothes already soiled and our shoes already soaked we just walk through the stream following it down a short distance until small waterfalls begin at which point we cut up the western bank and into the forest once again.  We now know that we are quite close.  That stream must be the one that we got water from along the Herring Cove Trail two days ago.  The thought that this ordeal is almost over and we will soon be on the trail invigorates both of us with a new energy.  Ben hurries ahead of me as we continue our noisy passage through thick forest.  We never stop talking loudly so as to reduce the chances of a bear confrontation.  Another steep slope covered with vegetation and fallen timber provides yet another challenge for me.  I’m tempted to roll my gear down ahead of me and then slide feet first.  “How did you get down here?”, I shout out to Ben.

With shouts he tries to direct the way to go but I don’t like the way it looks.  I choose another way through, over, and under a thicket of dead branches some of which crack under my weight.  Eventually I make it down and hurriedly stomp through a final patch of thick vegetation before stepping back onto that familiar Herring Cove Trail.  I find Ben snacking on red bunchberries and immediately drop all my gear to the ground, throw myself to the floor, and join in on the foraging feast.  Red bunchberries, twisted stalk berries, blueberries, and huckleberries, it is all so delicious and to know that the difficulties are now over makes this nourishing fruit sweeter than ever.  We survived Bear Mountain and all that remains is an easy three-mile walk back to Silver Bay Seafoods.

Taking a short rest at the end of the trail with our clothes fully soaked in mud, sweat, and rain

Feeling triumphant once again but looking like we were hit by a bulldozer we march down the trail and on the road that runs along the shore of Silver Bay.  I have a new respect for the mountains, and for food.  I realize that the lack of proper food severely weakened my body and that for one to survive in these mountains good wilderness knowledge and instincts as well as a profound respect for the power of nature is required.  This was a practice and a fantastic learning experience.  Greater adventures await.

Near the end of the trail a waterfall cascades into a small pool surrounded by beautiful green foliage, and devil’s club in the foreground

Back at the bunker house a group of workers are hurrying to catch a ride to the airport as they are getting sent home.  I was supposed to leave with this group.  I’m able to say farewell to Jay, Agustin, and a few others before they leave.  Tiny is there making sure people aren’t left behind.  I need a shower.  Ben calls to order a taxi to pick us up and take us to town.  I leave my gear in Ben’s room, grab a clean change of clothes, and sneak into the bathroom for a much-needed deep cleaning shower.  As I peel off the soiled clothes I find that mud penetrated through it all even to the underwear.  All of it, except my jackets and boots, goes into the trash.  My boots require a good rinse with warm water to get the mud out and unfortunately they are my only shoes so I will have wet feet the rest of the day.

Feeling great after the shower we leave the bunker house and wait at a sheltered taxi stop in front of the bunker houses.  A few other guys are also waiting there for a taxi.  Rain falls steadily as the vans in front fill up with workers and their luggage.  Kyffon is organizing the transportation of one van.  He glances over at me with a look of confusion as if he is thinking, “I thought that guy already left”.  Despite his stern disposition and unwavering expectancy of good solid work ethics by the employees even to the point of ignoring their injuries I have a lot of respect for Kyffon.  I think he is a good leader and especially in such a demanding industry like this one.  Some people just aren’t cut out for this kind of work.  It’s nothing personal, it’s just business.  I would like to think that I am one of those that is cut out for such physically demanding work but I just don’t know.  Most of the people that worked this season appear quite beat, physically spent. It’s definitely not a healthy way to live.  I’m sure of that.  However, it is a rather short time with the season lasting only about two and a half months.  I think that if were to do this again I would be sure to bring along and schedule shipments of specific highly nutritious foods to supplement the rather nutritiously poor selection provided in the cafeteria.  A part of me is going to miss the work.  The challenge of getting through another sixteen-hour workday, meeting so many interesting new people, the views of the mountains across the bay, observing the salmon rushing upstream, and of course, sampling the wild berries that grow abundantly in the woods.  A part of Alaska will accompany me forever.  We did it.  We worked a tough season through pain and fatigue and immediately after that we conquered a mountain.  I am happy and satisfied.

The bunker house that served as my home for seven weeks

The taxi drops us off in town.  Ben and I go to a Japanese restaurant and feast on a plate of sushi, Ben’s preferred meal.  In the incessant rain we make our way a few blocks to the Sitka Hostel(?) where we book a few-day stay.  This is probably the best hostel I’ve ever seen.  The management is extremely nice and it is a cute country-style house converted into several private and dormitory rooms.  We are staying in the largest dorm room which occupies the entire attic.  Clean wood floors, a full kitchen with stove and refrigerator, as well as a small entertainment room with a TV and assortment of movies.  Perfect, I love this place.

Sitka International Hostel

Dorm room in attic

Perfect little kitchen for me to cook

The following day we hang out in town and enjoy more Japanese food and tall ice cream sundaes as well as visit the Russian orphanage and several shops selling beautiful handcrafted souvenirs and art pieces.

Combing the beach for clams

Posing in front of the same restaurant where Charlie Sheen posed with fans a week earlier

Our time in Sitka is coming to a close.  Ben is going to return to Silver Bay Seafoods for one or two more weeks of work and I am returning home in five days.  The difficult physical demands are over.  I spend my final days visiting the totem poles, roaming around town, cooking in the hostel kitchen, collecting huckleberries and blueberries, and photographing it all.  A part of me feels sad to leave Alaska.  Intense experiences tend to create lifelong bonds.  The experiences I lived during my two-month stay here will forever remain woven in my being.  Will I ever come back?  I don’t know.  I hope so.  But I know this, I will never forget Alaska.

ANB Harbor in Sitka

Homes populate the tiny islands

Tlingit culture and history carved into a totem pole

Berries, berries, and more berries. I just can’t get enough of them.

 

…the end