Every Hidden Cell Throbbing With Music

Since I was remiss in getting my Alaska drivers license this week I could not get the 44 out from the gun store that my Mountain Boy had sent up to me from Tennessee.  With safety in numbers in mind, I called the CBJ Hike Hotline last night to find out where the Saturday morning group hike was headed.  It was on the John Muir trail, which I did with the group a couple of weeks ago.  I discounted it immediately (although I think I knew before I made the call that I was heading out alone today).  I had decided to do Mt Jumbo trail over on Douglas Island.

I woke up this morning and the weather looked iffy.  Cloudy, cool, good chance of rain.  My weather prediction just served to enhance my enthusiasm for my upcoming outing.  I quickly ate breakfast, then got dressed and geared up to head out.

During all the years I was adventure racing getting geared up was always part of getting psyched up.  Today, as I went through the ritual of gearing up I felt that same pre-race excitement.  It was a good feeling.  Layers of clothing top and bottom.  Bear spray, first aid kit, food, compass, folding knife and whistle, kabar duct taped to pack, extra clothing, dry bag, headlamp, water, snow shoes, Yaktraxx, waterproofed cell phone and camera, space blanket - by the time I was done my pack was heavier than I expected. 

There have been many occasions since I arrived in Juneau that I wished I had one of my larger size packs up here.  The one and only pack I brought with me is a mid-sized day pack.  It does the job usually, but there have been times (particularly when the weather is cold and wet, or when I have travelled further into the mountains and/or off the beaten path than usual and I needed to pack more gear) that I have wished I had a bigger one up here.  Similarly, I brought water bottles with me but did not bring a water bladder (Camelbak), and I definately do not drink as much water when I'm out there with only a bottle.

I left the house and it was raining.  By the time I got past the Valley it was pouring.  I looked over at the mountains on Douglas Island, and was excited to be heading into them.

Some people I work with had told me that the location of the trailhead was between a house and garage at the back of a residential area on the island, and they were correct.  I am used to big obvious and isolated trailheads and large parking lots down south.  I arrived in a high density residential area, and followed the lead of other vehicles in the area and parked on the curb.  This particular trailhead was indeed between a garage and a home, and as I entered, it felt like I was walking through somebody's yard.

The trail was steep right from the get-go, and it was obvious that this was going to be a challenge.  I was excited and more pleased to be out on this trail than I can describe to you.  I needed to be out - up in the mountains - away from people - away from worries and concerns and doubts - in a place that makes sense to me.  Mt Jumbo today was that place.

After a quick and very steep climb, and then a creek crossing, the walking became easier as I travelled along a wide-open trail along a ridge line.  There were steep drop-offs to one side of me (as well as glimpses of the channel since I was paralleling it), and steep and rocky rises to the other side of me.  Yes.........beautiful.  Quiet.  Bear country.  Moss and trees and seclusion.

I only followed the ridgeline for 10 or 15 minutes, and as I got close to the end of it could hear raging water up ahead.  I saw the bridge first, then got close enough to see a small waterfall and full creek moving very quickly.  Recently we have had consistent rain, and temperatures warm enough to melt some of the snow - the creek was full and quickly raging downhill.

After crossing the bridge the trail began to quickly increase in elevation, and I started to climb

And climb....

And climb....

Eventually I came to a wooden slat trail and then a wide open meadow, that I am certain contains wild flowers in the spring and summer.  These wooden sections of trail are located all over the trails in Juneau - designed to protect hikers from the low-lying mud and boggy areas, as well as protecting what I am certain is fragile small flora contained in these meadows.  Good for walking, but they are very slippery when they are wet (which is most of the time).  I took my time in this section so I didn't take a tumble.

Once I was out in the open, the trail was filled with icy snow, which made walking challenging.  Again, slow going.  I thought briefly about putting on Yaktraxx so I could have better grip, but felt fairly confident that the snow would end once I arrived back under the protective canopy of the pine trees and wooded area up ahead.

Views of the channel.

And an up-close view of one bad-ass and plentiful plant

Once I arrived back in the woods the snow did indeed end, and the trail became a hard-to-follow, very technical and very steep climb.  Mount Jumbo trail is not for out-of-shape sissies......

A view through the trees of Juneau mountains, and of downtown.

More climbing, and of constant searches to stay on trail.  By the time I got to this point, I looked up ahead and realized that the weather was changing.  For a few minutes it was very foggy, and then all of a sudden it began to snow heavily.  I kept climbing - wary of the weather change, invigorated and excited to be here, heart racing from both combined effort and excitement.

And finally I got to this.  It was still snowing, but had slowed.  But there was a LOT of snow on the ground and a VERY steep climb up ahead.  I stopped under a large pine tree to evaluate my position, to eat, to drink, and to put my fleece (that I had taken off early on and wedged in between snow shoes on the outside of my pack) into my pack because I needed to try and keep it dry (just in case.....).

Hmmmm....did I really want to try to get through all that mess?  I drank water, ate Ritz crackers and cheese, and eyed the trail (?) up ahead.  No I didn't want to....

Yes I did.

I had been on the trail for the better part of two hours (taking my time, climbing cautiously and taking pictures) and believed that I was close to the top where there were supposed to be outstanding and majestic channel views.  I had come this far and wanted to see them.

There were footprints up there so it had to be doable.  Right?  I forged ahead, all of about 30 feet.  Trying to walk in the footprints already travelled, and promptly sank into snow up to my hips.  Try again.  Sink again.  Try again.  Sink again.

OK..........that wasn't gonna work.  I wondered if the snow shoes would help.  The snow was icy, and the incline was very steep.  I was doubtful but put them on anyway.

I got a couple of steps, slid backwards and then sank.  Try again.  Couple of steps, slide backwards, sink.  Same thing a couple more times.  It wasn't gonna work.  I needed ice climbing equipment, had none with me, and had limited experience with them even if I HAD them with me.  Reluctantly I decided to head back.

And a lightbulb moment, that I would like to receive more training in the use of ice axes and other ice-climbing equipment. 

I hadn't thought about it while I was climbing up, but the climb down (particularly in these first very steep and technical sections) turned out to be murder on my knees.  I had trekking poles for goodness sakes, but always have a mental block with them, and forget to bring them with me. 

As I was slowly and painfully making my way down these dicy and slick roots I searched the woods for a tree limb that would serve as a trekking pole.   I have always been able to find a serviceable hard wood tree branch down south when I needed it - but the pine trees and soft wood of this area does not provide a readily available extra balance point.  I found only one, and it broke within just a few minutes.

Yes this is yet again another picture of my foot.  I made it down to the meadow in one piece, and promptly fell through a section of snow and stepped shin deep into the water and mud below it.  I did the same thing on the way up, with the same foot.  So for most of the morning I had one dry foot and one very wet and muddy foot.

I see these kinds of footprints all the time, both on muddy trails and snowy trails.  There are a ton of large sized dogs that walk the trails with their owners, and even though I have looked up bear prints, these prints in the mud and snow always give me pause.  I am not used to looking at prints, or of reading them to identify their owners.  It is not second nature to me, and I am always doubtful of my interpretation of them.  It will take much practice before I feel comfortable with that skill.

A look back at where I had travelled today.  Mountains now hidden behind cold, damp, fog and snow.

A few minutes ago every tree was excited, bowing to the roaring storm, waving, swirling, tossing their branches in glorious enthusiasm like worship. But though to the outer ear these trees are now silent, their songs never cease. Every hidden cell is throbbing with music and life, every fiber thrilling like harp strings, while incense is ever flowing from the balsam bells and leaves. No wonder the hills and groves were God's first temples, and the more they are cut down and hewn into cathedrals and churches, the farther off and dimmer seems the Lord himself. ~John Muir