My town, Anchorage, Alaska, is the Best! The temperature soared to 62 degrees in the morning, but the sun is baking hot. Even though the mountains are still snow covered, Bird Ridge sits squarely in the sun and is the first ridge to shed its snow and ice. On a whim I headed south on the Seward highway, one of two roads out of town. The other, the Glen Highway, head's north and winds up 4,000 miles through Canada later in the "Lower 48". The Seward ends in Seward. But Bird Ridge is only 20 miles from town, still in the Anchorage Borough limits.
I parked my aged Subaru and headed up, dressed for a one-hour stroll in my suntans, blue cotton work shirt, ball cap, and well-worn low-cut approach shoes with flat but sticky rubber soles. Just like I dress every day. The trail heads straight up. Paved at the start on the handicapped accessible portion...
My casual stroll increased it's angle of ascent, but I've done it may times before, so I knew what to expect. I heard voices and soon encountered two hikers descending. I greeted the the first woman and asked how far she had gone; "To the top!" she exclaimed and punched her bicep guns for me. I told her to do it again and I'd send her the photo. Thinking better of her actions in front of a stranger, she disappeared into the trees.
Volcanic ash from the recent Mt. Redoubt eruption still covered the ground in a gray coating.
The tide was going out of Turnagain Arm, at 27' the second highest tide in the world, exposing a sinewy network of streams across the mudflats. I looked down on the tiny Bird village, the peaks of the Kenai peninsula in the distance. Below I could see the highway, the Alaska Railroad, and the powerline, the only signs of human activity for hundreds of miles.
After an hour I was above treeline. Looking up, I saw three young women descending towards me, dogs leading the way. You know spring has sprung when you can see women in shorts descending a mountain in Alaska.
Standing there I looked up and saw a Bald Eagle soaring directly above us. It came fairly close, checking us out, making sure we weren't dead and ready to be nibbled for a meal, then circled on the thermals and disappeared into the east.
I had planned on turning around after an hour, but "Summit Fever" has set in big-time. So, on I went. By now I'm about 2,500' above the Inlet. A very nice couple, nurses from Providence Hospital, were nested in a small saddle next to the trail. I stopped and chatted for a while. They were new to Alaska, having come in mid-winter, and were enjoying their first hike, discovering the huge wilderness in their back yard. We were less than 20 miles from Anchorage as the crow flies, but grizzly bears, moose, wolves, Dall sheep, wolverines, eagles, and mountain goats were all around. It's as wild as it gets.
Three lovely women and their two dogs loomed in the distance. We exchanged greetings, and they told me the snow near the summit was soft. I think they looked at my outfit and low-cut shoes. I continued upwards.
Soon it was solid snow. Check out the dirty volcanic ash on the left side of the cornice. Going was great; I was catching "Summit Fever" and began to jog, wanting the experience of standing on top. I checked my watch; I'd been doing a lot of visiting, so it had taken me two hours to go 4,000'. It is the same distance up as climbing from Jenny Lake to the Lower Saddle on the Grand Teton. What a thought.
Finally I was at the summit ridge. The trail was now just a trace; most folks don't make it this far. About a half mile to go, and I was on a mission!
The summit!! Looking west I could see the Suicide Peaks, just a bit higher than Bird Point,
and to the east was Bird Creek. Two years ago my son and I climbed the steep cliffs on the left of the photo in a driving rainstorm looking for Dall sheep. We had seen tiny white dots in the distance, so we bushwhacked 5 miles and pulled ourself up the cliff-side. Thor looked up over the tall bushes, turned to me and said, "Dad, they're goats!"
By now it was 6:00pm, so I trundled down at a good clip. On the way I looked up to the sound of Sandhill Cranes soaring overhead. Standing there watching their progress, I heard voices. The three lovely ladies had taken a rest and were now behind me. We descended together, sharing stories and getting to know each other. They were nurses from Anchorage, regular hikers, and friends from way back. From left: Gisela, Vicky, and Jenny with "Ama Dablam" wandering in the background.
They invited me to have a beer with them at the Brown Bear Saloon at the bottom of the climb. It is know as a biker bar, but everyone in Alaska is related to, or knows everyone else, so we fit right in. Check out the hot biker chicks at the bar. And all the dollar bills stuck to the ceiling.
Vicky and Gisela check out the day's photos on the iPhone! It was a great end to a fine day, another reason that Anchorage is the finest city in America.
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Thank you, thank you!