Frost-crusted silt crunched under our boots as we walked along the Mendenhall Lake shoreline. It was nearly midnight; the sky was washed in stars; the orange tint of the setting moon cast a warm glow over the water, sparkling with the night. Mountains cut massive silhouettes through the encompassing shimmer. I glanced upward in wonder, startled by the simple vastness of the moment, sandwiched as it was between two mundane workdays.
We lingered late by the fire and set up camp atop a thickening layer of frost. I own but one truly warm sleeping bag. It's rated to 40 below zero - my favorite piece of gear. I curled up in my own private mountain of 800-fill down, billowing heat and perfect comfort, lulled to sleep by the vast simplicity of life.
We were up at sunrise, a direct consequence of the mundane demands of a Tuesday, but the world stayed still for a moment, frozen in ice.
First snow, first frost - the drum beat toward winter. It makes me feel excited and anxious, content and alive.
I still had several hours to kill before I had to be at my own job as the morning brightened into the kind of day that touches on the sublime. Some northern municipalities have "powder days." In Juneau, we have "sun days" - those days where all of your co-workers call in sick; people wave as they pass you on the street; commuters grin from their cars. Everyone wants - no, needs - to get outside, even if they have laundry to do, even if their leg muscles feel slightly shredded and they have to eat Twix Bars for breakfast because they haven't been grocery shopping since August. It doesn't matter. Sun days trump all.
I hiked up Mount Jumbo because it's convenient, fast, and I've climbed it so many times that I understand the obstacles well enough to jog on the way down. Plus, it's west-facing and washed in sunlight.
Temperatures rose quickly, into the mid-50s, but the ice of the morning still clung to the trail. I moved with speed and purpose and didn't slip once - one of my smoothest mountain traverses by far.
An awesome way to wrap up an awesome month.
Frost-crusted silt crunched under our boots as we walked along the Mendenhall Lake shoreline. It was nearly midnight; the sky was washed in stars; the orange tint of the setting moon cast a warm glow over the water, sparkling with the night. Mountains cut massive silhouettes through the encompassing shimmer. I glanced upward in wonder, startled by the simple vastness of the moment, sandwiched as it was between two mundane workdays.
We lingered late by the fire and set up camp atop a thickening layer of frost. I own but one truly warm sleeping bag. It's rated to 40 below zero - my favorite piece of gear. I curled up in my own private mountain of 800-fill down, billowing heat and perfect comfort, lulled to sleep by the vast simplicity of life.
We were up at sunrise, a direct consequence of the mundane demands of a Tuesday, but the world stayed still for a moment, frozen in ice.
First snow, first frost - the drum beat toward winter. It makes me feel excited and anxious, content and alive.
I still had several hours to kill before I had to be at my own job as the morning brightened into the kind of day that touches on the sublime. Some northern municipalities have "powder days." In Juneau, we have "sun days" - those days where all of your co-workers call in sick; people wave as they pass you on the street; commuters grin from their cars. Everyone wants - no, needs - to get outside, even if they have laundry to do, even if their leg muscles feel slightly shredded and they have to eat Twix Bars for breakfast because they haven't been grocery shopping since August. It doesn't matter. Sun days trump all.
I hiked up Mount Jumbo because it's convenient, fast, and I've climbed it so many times that I understand the obstacles well enough to jog on the way down. Plus, it's west-facing and washed in sunlight.
Temperatures rose quickly, into the mid-50s, but the ice of the morning still clung to the trail. I moved with speed and purpose and didn't slip once - one of my smoothest mountain traverses by far.
An awesome way to wrap up an awesome month.
TWIX for breakfast. Sounds like the breakfast of champions.
ReplyDeletewhat a great post, fantastic pictures!
ReplyDeleteWhat grand adventures you have, Jill! I love reading your posts! Sun Days wouldn't work here in AZ... no one would ever work! We should have Cloud Days instead..
ReplyDeleteI walked the glacier area later that AM and saw the ice crystals on the lake, then hiked Perseverance trail to the Glory Hole Overlook, it was a BEAUTIFUL day!!
ReplyDeleteWhat a wonderful writer you have become. I love your pictures with words, and then comes the amazing photos. I have been lurking for two years, and finally was stirred to send you a message. September love is wonderful. Keep it coming. Your next book should just be the great little adventures you write about every day.
ReplyDeleteThanks Jill, that puts the day in perspective. :)
ReplyDeletea 40 below sleeping bag...800 fill down...i'm sorry, but my inner gear geek is freaking...what kind of bag do you have?
ReplyDeletesorry...i know you get asked gear questions all the time and i'm not even in the market for something that warm, but i simply can't help myself.
I've been reading your blog since Fatty talked about your visit there, I even went back a while to sort of catch up. I keep trying to think how I can afford to get up there and be in good enough shape to experience everything. It just all looks so amazing and so romantic, for lack of a better word. Thanks for the wonderful posts.
ReplyDeleteIts called California, Georgia (russia for those with "states syndrome"), India, Senegal, Kenya, PNG, Patagonia...... There, you would have to actually accomplish things, rather than tromp about in crap weather. You own a GPS, how long will you live within .000001% of its range?
ReplyDelete