Since I’d like my cats to still remember me, and my mother asked….here is a photo of me. I took it last week after I showered after my Shoup Trail adventure in Valdez. And now ya know what I look like without makeup, I haven’t worn any since my last day of work a month ago!

Sorry for being so slow with this latest update, but it’s been next to impossible to find an internet connection lately. I sorta had one at one point, but got kicked off the property by the RV park manager, oops. Oh well, the connection sucked anyway! When I last left off I was sitting in the public library in Soldotna. The light was fabulous as I was leaving the Kenai Peninsula, best weather I’d seen in days, and I was able to get some lovely non-overcast shots of whatever bay that is just south of Anchorage. My good weather was short-lived though, halfway down the Glenn Highway I was back in the rain, and I can’t say as I found Valdez the least bit interesting in the constant drizzle. However I had plans to hike the following day, Monday, so I stayed in the area anyway, kept my fingers crossed that things would clear up, and spent the evening updating my trip notes (though to update would imply that I had actually Started any notes) regarding where I’ve been, place names, etc, while I can still remember. Woke up to more rain. I took the lazy approach to resolving my indecision as to what to do with my day (who wants to hike 13 miles in the rain???) and lounged in my sleeping bag, dozing and swapping email messages with Chris (cell phones that can email are one of my favorite things, second only to an actual internet connection). Lucky for me, by the time he had to head to a meeting, the sun was peeking out and there were patches of blue, and I set off to hike after all.

Sometimes I think this little journal ought to be titled “Tiff’s Big Ass Misadventures”, which might more aptly describe my trip. I had planned on hiking the Shoup Trail out to the divide where there’s supposed to be a great view of Shoup Glacier and both Valdez and Shoup Bays. Thirteen miles roundtrip. Given that the sun doesn’t set until late in the evening I figured I would have no trouble making it out and back. The trail starts off easy enough, well maintained, clear if a little soggy, a mound of berry bear poop a hundred yards from the trailhead, despite the fact that there’s a subdivision of houses across the street. About a mile along I hit the Weeds, and the trail winds up being overgrown for pretty much the remainder of the hike, which is very steep as it climbs a hill above Valdez Bay and then descends on the other side. It had rained until roughly eight o’clock that morning, and I was tromping through weeds that were often shoulder high. Needless to say, I was very quickly Drenched. The trail was also quite narrow, and I was packing about what felt like 30 pounds of camera gear, water, bug spray, my tripod, etc, so my balance was a little off, and at one point I very narrowly avoided falling into a mud pit. The sky had cleared up but at that time the entire bay was still covered in fog. I could hear the water, smell it, but see it? Not a chance. Then, all of a sudden, the trail climbed high enough to be above the fog, and I could see the mountains across the bay, and shortly after that the fog started lifting and I was able to get some awesome shots. So far so good, despite being absolutely soaked, and having fallen off the trail twice and landed in prickly bushes. I arrived at Gold’s Creek, where the first half of the Shoup Trail meets up with the second, making pretty good time. I knew the second half was the lesser traveled of the two and knew to expect it to be sloppy…I just didn’t realize quite How sloppy, and soon found myself standing in ankle deep mud. My boots were already wet anyway, so what if I had mud oozing between my toes instead of water? Not one to be deterred by a little dirt, especially with a good photo op on the line, I slogged on. I had cell phone reception on the trail off and on, and had emailed Chris to say that while I was quite certain that the drenching I got on the first half of the trail was worth it for the photos I was able to take, it remained to be seen whether the mud on the second part would be worthwhile. I soon got my answer, when I took a tumble down a steep descent (that wasn’t even muddy) and cracked my elbow on a rock. Besides shooting pain, I instantly felt nauseous, and thought I was going to pass out. Thankfully, nothing was actually broken, and I figured I must just have hit a nerve, which a short chat with my nurse-turned-nurse-midwife mother later confirmed. (The conversation went something like this. “Sounds like Vegas!” “No, Mom, I’m in Valdez.” “No, I mean your Vegal nerve!” If I was paying enough attention, it turns out there’s a big nerve that runs through the body, and when you manage to hit it, a pukey-want-to-pass-out-reaction is typical. Learn something new everyday, though I must admit I could have been quite content with just secondhand knowledge, no need to learn the (rock) hard way in this case.)  I was feeling quite lightheaded, and decided that might be a sign that I ought to start heading for my car, which was a good 5 miles away. I hated to turn back when I knew I couldn’t be more than a mile or two from the good view, but decided I wouldn’t be much good to anyone if I passed out in the bushes somewhere and got eaten by a bear. The return trip was fairly uneventful, I never did puke or pass out, or get any good shots from the second part, leading me to decide that the mud definitely was Not worth it.

I wish I could say that the rest of the week has been misadventure-free, but who am I kidding, this is me we’re talking about. Tuesday I drove 90 miles straight out into the boonies, into the Wrangell-St. Elias National Park, where I crossed a foot bridge, and then walked five miles up to Kennicott, an old mine town that closed in 1938. It’s in the process of being restored by local hire (I think about half the people that live in the area are employed by the Park Service), but some of it is beyond saving. Apparently restoration starts on the 13-story mill building itself in 2010. I chatted with a man who used to do computer repair in Wisconsin that’s now doing construction work up there and got the scoop, he was most helpful in pointing out good places to get shots and where I could wander, what to avoid, and best of all, where to find the road to the top of the mill!. The weather was beautiful, the bugs weren’t too bad, and I was having a great shoot, Kennicott ranks as one of my favorite places to have gone to on this trip, despite the 60 mile dirt road that’s known for causing flat tires; it follows the old railroad track and even crosses over two abandoned trestles, which I thought was pretty cool! Things must have been going a little too well though, because mishap soon ensued. I was following the trail down from the top of the mill, and partway down it crosses a stream. According to the sign at the top, the trail crosses a footbridge, but I was looking at an old railroad tie across part, and a thin log across the other half, not quite my idea of a footbridge, but I’d very much followed the trail, figured this must be the “bridge” and proceeded to walk across the beam. The log was a different story, much too narrow for someone as completely klutzy as I am (with balance worse than usual with all my gear on my back) so I opted to hop across the rocks. All well and good until one step from solid ground, in I went. Over-achiever that I am, it wasn’t enough to just Step into the stream, no, no, I had to Sit in the stream. Luckily, all I managed to soak was myself and not my camera, but I then had to wander around the rest of the day (and hike back to my car) in wet shoes and jeans. I would have worn my muddy jeans and hiking boots from the day before if I’d known I was going swimming, they desperately need a washing. And to top it all off, once I wandered up the trail on the other side of the stream, I was able to see the real footbridge just downstream, a lovely, wide, wooden bridge with handrails that even I would have had a hard time falling off of.

The last couple days have been spent mostly driving, which was only sort of the plan. On Wednesday I drove down to Haines, Alaska, where I intended to catch the ferry over to Skagway, and then enter into Canada from there on my way back to the Lower 48. My Milepost guide showed that the U.S. border closed at 11pm, but the gas station attendant in Haines Junction, YT told me it was open 24 hours. I was going to be cutting it pretty close if the book was right and not her, and was hurrying along my way until I saw the moon come up over some mountain, and of course had to stop and shoot, and completely spaced the possible border crossing cut-off. I lucked out and the book was wrong, crossed the border and camped for the night just outside of Haines. I got up Thursday morning and went in search of an oil change, and wound up calling the ferry terminal from the shop to check the departure times, only to discover there wasn’t a ferry running that direction until 6pm Friday night. Silly me, I’d gotten it into my head that the ferry between Haines and Skagway was a regular…daily…occurrence, and that wasn’t the case at all. I had fully intended to be halfway through Canada by Friday night, so sitting around for the ferry wasn’t really an option (I’ve got plans with friends in Seattle on Monday). I wound up having to drive back up to Haines Junction and continue from there, a nice little 300 mile detour for an oil change and a trip to the post office. And the weather was gloomy and I never even took a single picture there! (Though I do owe a special thanks to John for letting me hog his power outlets and back my photos up to DVD while he changed my oil!). All I’ve done since is drive, currently in Prince George, BC and should be crossing into Washington tonight. I’m a bit sad, the Alaska portion of my trip is done. I must say, should I visit there again, I’ll be flying up, or taking the ferry. The Alaskan Highway is pretty, but also Pretty Boring. I’ll be in the North Cascades National Park tomorrow and then heading down to Seattle. I’ve got some pictures from the Signpost Forest in Watson Lake to post, but I’ll put those up on Monday, I’m sure my friend David will be nice enough to share his internet connection with me.

…is not of breaking down, getting mugged or shot, etc….but of dropping my car keys into a porta-potty.

You may laugh, but I’m not kidding!

Currently in Valdez, AK, by the way, keys safely in my pocket.

My friend Dave is always giving me crap about how if I ever want to make it as a photographer, I need to narrow down what I shoot and find my niche. I usually drunkenly agree with him (this conversation always happens while we’re drinking) and then continue to shoot whatever happens to catch my eye. I think I might be making some progress though. I’ve decided that I absolutely have no interest..any, whatsoever…in being a wildlife photographer. After leaving Fairbanks Monday afternoon I headed down to Denali National Park. I was pleasantly surprised at the lack of mosquitoes at the campground, it was fabulous. Life was not so fabulous come 4am Tuesday morning when I was attempting to drag myself out of bed for my 5:15 bus reservation (you cannot drive your car through 95% of the park, you have to take a shuttle bus). When I was making my bus reservations months ago, the first bus of the day had seemed like a good idea, more wildlife, less people, etc…all well and good, until I had to actually get up that early. It was painful. Luckily, early into the trip (85 miles each way, eleven hours roundtrip) we saw a bear and her cub in the brush alongside the road and stopped, and they came out of the bushes and crossed the road in front of us. Very cool. Too bad I wasn’t really awake enough to have been paying attention to what my camera settings were on and the majority of my shots were horribly out of focus…Live and learn. The bears were definitely our best sighting, though we did see a bull moose with a huge rack (my shots of that sucked, I just don’t have enough of a zoom lens for wildlife photography), caribou, a couple bears off in the distance, short-eared owls, rock ptarmigans, beavers, and an entire pack of wolves. The wolves were on the hillside across the valley, just barely visible with the naked eye, five adults and seven pups. One man on the bus said he’d been to the park for sixteen seasons and this was the first time he’d seen more than just one or two adults out together, and never the pups. On the way back from Wonder Lake I hopped off the bus to go for a short hike (you just flag down any of the green buses once you’re ready to leave). Earlier that morning the driver had mentioned a good spot to go hiking if you’re looking for Dall’s sheep, and I figured I’d give that a try. With explicit instructions from Mike to come back down the mountain the same way I was going up (following a social path, made by the animals), I started up Mt. Margaret (or at least that’s what I think I climbed). I think he must have been in a bit better shape than me, ’cause he said it takes about 45 minutes to hike up, and it took me twice that (it was steep!) and I repeatedly lost the trail, if it could be called that. When I finally reached the top, there was an ICY cold wind (wind is a bit of an understatement, I thought I might get blown off the mountain), and I froze my butt off. Having worked that hard to get up there though, not a chance I was going to head back down without a picture of a sheep, and I set off along the ridge in search of one. Forty-five minutes later I eventually found one, and he was quite content to let me take his picture. His friend eventually came along and convinced him it was time to crap and pee, and then they headed off down the ridge. Fingers numb, I was more than happy to start my way down the mountain. What should have been an easy enough hike down turned into more of an adventure than I bargained for, when partway down I realized I was not quite where I should have been. I’d been keeping an eye on a curve in the road below and using that as my reference point, as well as a couple large rocks to remind myself where the social path was. I hadn’t quite realized just how far west I’d walked along the ridge though, and I’d wound up a whole snake in the road away from where I thought I was, and an entire gully away from where the path down was. Rather than climb back up, I opted to cross the gully, which meant tromping through the bushes, a much further distance that it had looked, and crossing one small ravine. The hike down the mountain wound up taking as long as the one up. I did eventually make it down, heavily grass-stained, with horrible blisters on my feet, and caught a bus back to the campground. I had reservations for a shorter bus trip for the following day, but after spending eleven hours on the bus already, I said “No way!” and canceled my bus ticket and campground reservation for the following night, opting to head for the coast the next morning instead.

After doing a load of laundry Wednesday morning, I left the sorta nice weather behind and headed for the rainy coast. I got nicely drenched on Thursday (I don’t mind the rain so much, I rather like it actually, my camera gear, however, does not) while wandering around taking pictures of Exit Glacier in Kenai Fjords National Park near Seward. Cold and looking for somewhere dry, I wound up hanging out on the USCGC Mustang with some of the Coast Guard guys I’d met that morning while wandering around the harbor. (Special thanks to A.J. and the rest of the Mustang crew for letting me hang out and dry out, I had a great time!) Having grown up as a Coast Guard brat, I instantly have something in common with them, and tend to find myself migrating towards anywhere Coast Guard related, and I’ve toured boats and boat stations in several random places now. I thought about staying in Seward one more night, but wound up heading to Homer that evening, and while driving along the spit looking for somewhere to camp, I immediately noticed this piece of property with several old boats, dry-docked, but basically abandoned. In addition to the boats, there was some sort of World War Two transporter that had been converted into a houseboat, a crane, part of a trailer (it was missing a wall), two buses, and a couple of castle towers…quite the hodgepodge of junk, but from a photography standpoint, a treasure trove of opportunity. I found a city campground to stay at and followed the pedestrian path back towards the property. There were no trespassing signs posted everywhere, but I figured I’d still be able to get some good shots from the bike path. I totally lucked out though, and the gentleman who keeps an eye on the property for the owners was there, and he was happy to grant me permission to wander around and take pictures, and to come back the next day when there was more light (it was twilight at this point) if i so desired. (Thanks, Robert!!!). We chit-chatted for quite a while, he reminded me of a Swedish Santa Claus. I took a few pictures that night, and then headed back yesterday (in the rain) to shoot again. I was pretty pleased with some of the shots. Definitely a unique place to shoot, that’s for sure! I wandered around the harbor in Homer some and then wound up settling in for the night (I was camping on the beach, talk about a waterfront view!), it was cold and rainy and not much else was catching my eye. I’m currently at the public library in Soldotna, missing the best weather I’ve had in days to update my site (I find it takes me a good four to five hours every few days to edit, ramble, post, etc.), so I should shut up and get going soon, not to mention the library will be closing shortly.

Before I do though, I thought I’d say a word or two about some of the people I’ve met along the way. It’s funny to think that I used to be very shy, and living in Seattle I was actually quite a hermit, though I’ve become infinitely more outgoing since moving to Salt Lake City. I’m not sure if it’s just that I’m desperate for human contact (even I can only talk to myself for so many hours a day) or if it’s just that I’m becoming more of a people person, but I find myself going out of my way to talk to random strangers now, and I’ve met some highly interesting people along the trip. The crew of the Mustang, Robert, a woman from Michigan who I met in the Logan Pass parking lot in Glacier NP who wants to visit all of the different sand dunes in the country, a retired firefighter at Exit Glacier who was visiting from Tahoe with his daughters, but he couldn’t follow them up the hill since he’d broken his knee too many times as a kamikaze-style skier (“Who needs to learn how to turn!” he said). The couple I met this morning at the Ninilchik Russian Orthodox Church (I’ll post those shots next time), in town from Eastern Texas…the woman saw my license plate, asked if I drove up here by myself, and when I replied “yes,” she immediately asked “Have you called your mother yet???” It was quite comical. The guys I met last night while wandering through the Homer harbor, working on fishing boats for the summer, I’m missing their bbq tonight, which is too bad, grilled salmon…yummmm. The fisherman on the dock in Seward who said Homer’s a hole in the wall and I ought to just head straight to Valdez. I set out on this trip in search of good photo ops, but I’m finding all of the people I’m meeting along the way to be just as interesting as the scenery. Who knew?

I completely missed posting a day’s worth of shots when I was in Fairbanks earlier this week. I’m entirely too lazy to go into the database and renumber the photos, so we’ll just have to deal with them being out of order now. There are now more Canadian grain elevator shots, as well as of this cool old church in Dorothy (above). Also, while I’m thinking about pictures (wait, when am I not?)…a quick note on editing. The stuff that gets posted has been very hastily cleaned up, but often times I’m working with terrible light, and the dust spot I’m trying to clone out in the photo is in fact a reflection of my nostril on my laptop screen. The final versions of these photos, once properly edited, months from now, will be much cleaner. That is all.