Mount Jumbo to Mount Troy

Date: Feb. 18
Mileage: ~12

Total climbing: 6,284 feet
Time: 7 hours, 13 minutes
Weather: Sunny and hot! 34 degrees at sea level, hotter higher; Light winds
Details: Ridge trek, 40-90 percent

Today I did something that I have always wanted to do, which is connect two prominent peaks on Douglas Island via the mountain ridge. In doing so, I walked from downtown Douglas to Eaglecrest Ski Area, the hard way. I will eventually talk more about observations regarding yesterday's post, but for today I am just doing a quick photo blog.

An inversion coated Juneau with thick fog during the morning and part of the early afternoon. This airplane was flying in circles, waiting for the fog to clear so it could land at the airport. You have to think those passengers are grumbling about the unfairness of a weather delay as they coast through clear blue sky.

And it was hot! So, so hot. I don't know how hot it was. 80 degrees? Maybe 90? It was actually 34 degrees at my house before I left for the morning. Probably mid-40s above the inversion. My shirt became drenched with sweat on the way up Jumbo so I took it off for a while, until my pasty white belly started to burn. This is the obligatory self portrait on top of Mount Jumbo, elevation 3,337. I've hiked this peak many times during the summer, and it felt every bit as warm today. You'd never know it wasn't July. Seriously. Except for all the snow and rime ice.

After that, it was time to set out toward unknown territory. This is an overlook of Stephens Passage and Eagle Peak on Admiralty Island.

Douglas Island Ridge is fairly broad, which allows non-technical passage but can make route finding more difficult.

And there was lots of route finding to do beyond Mount Jumbo. I was hoping I would see old ski tracks I could follow, but no dice. They probably melted.

Looking back on Mount Jumbo after looping around a small secondary peak, elevation 2,800.

Self portrait on top of an unnamed prominent peak, elevation 2,900, above the Dan Moller bowl.

Ah, look, it's downtown Juneau. Above town you can see how high snowline is on Mount Juneau. All joy about July-in-February weather aside, it's sad to see our snowpack this dessicated.

Yeah! Made it to Mount Troy, elevation 2,950. Lots of climbing to reach these high points - the ridge dipped as low as 1,800 feet at times. I had originally thought Ben Stuart might be an good, ambitious goal if the trek went really well, but it took too much time and energy to reach Troy. I'm not sure how I feel about trekking through the ski area anyway. But my next goal is to link up Mount Meek and Ben Stuart.

Lots of good thinking today, as well. I am very pleased with how the day went ... good goals, good introspection, good weather, good scenery, good workout. Good day.

A lack of color

Date: Feb. 16
Details: Rest day

Date: Feb. 17
Mileage: 24
Time: 95 minutes
Weather: Steady rain, 38 degrees, southeast wind 15-25 mph
Details: Tempo ride; intensity 65-90 percent

So today I'm going to post about two things that I don't talk about very often on my blog - writing and discontent.

I feel like I have to preface this post because I'm not going to talk about bicycle riding, trekking or training today. It's actually still somewhat humorous to me that for the past four-plus years, I have been updating what is essentially a bicycle and photo blog. I found out recently that "Up in Alaska" was nominated for a "Best Sports Blog" Bloggie for the third time (I found out too late to solicit votes, but that's OK, because I didn't stand a chance of winning against Fat Cyclist and BikeSnobNYC anyway.) But, yeah, I have a sports blog. This idea still makes me giggle. And photography! I was essentially anti-photograph four and a half years ago, the kind of person who put her hand in front of her face when cameras came out and had only recently acquired a 2-megapixel Fuji digital camera because I was moving to Alaska and "you have to take photos of Alaska." No, if you asked me on Nov. 3, 2005, what I wanted to do with a personal blog, I would have said that I wanted to be a writer, without the drudgery of actually pursuing a career in writing.

Fast-forward four and a half years. Now I have a sports and photo blog with more than 1,000 posts and I spend some of my free time writing creative nonfiction that I develop in the form of books. Right now I'm in the process of finishing up the "2009 story." I've been polishing up the chapters I've written and for the most part I'm pretty happy with them - even the stuff I wrote while I had the flu, when I managed to evoke more than a few, ah, interesting metaphors (chalk that one up to Nyquil.) I really only have one more chapter to actually write, and I've been avoiding it. I pretty much know exactly what I want to do with this chapter; the reason I've avoided writing it is because I don't want this project to end. Oh sure, there's still tons of editing to do, and that horrible, laborious process of trying to get the thing published (I still haven't decided whether or not I'm going to try, to be honest.) But once Chapter 24 is actually written, that's it. The creative development that has provided me so much satisfaction will be done. There won't be any more opportunities to wholly immerse myself in words and images and shimmering pieces of the past until the present me, the one sprawled out on a bed in a dark little room in Fritz Cove, doesn't even exist anymore.

And this is the part where I want to talk about discontent. A vague restlessness has been needling at my senses ever since I stepped off the ferry on July 16 to rebuild my life in Juneau. This restlessness has been pronounced enough that I haven't tried very hard to actually rebuild my life here. I lived fully homeless until I finally rented my own room in mid-September (not an apartment, a room.) I've pushed away from or been unceremoniously pushed out of every new relationship I started. I won't even buy myself new hiking shoes or a trekking backpack - things I really, really need - because some mental block is preventing me from "accumulating stuff." And I have been surviving rather than thriving at work - mostly because I work at a newspaper in a bad economy; surviving is the most we can do. Meanwhile, I keep trying to do the things I love. I go to the mountains. I ride my bike. On rare nights off work, I go to parties and see movies. Life is still very good, very beautiful and very blessed. But something is missing. Something is definitely missing. I don't know what it is. If I was looking for an, ah, interesting metaphor, I would say that my life is like a half-eaten grapefruit. On the surface it's still whole and dimpled and delicious, but I've already mined the juicy center and what I have left on the inside is somewhat ... hollow.

I am happy when I'm in the mountains. I am happy when I ride my bicycle. I am happy in the company of friends. But if someone were to ask me that ever-vague question, "Are you happy?," my honest answer would be "no."

And I am blogging about this now just because it feels cathartic to admit it. I'm not necessarily looking for life coaching, although I always enjoy the random life-coach advice I receive (unsolicited comments are definitely the best part about keeping a blog, even if it can't be an "Award-Winning Blog" because it always gets stuck in the dang Sports Blog category.) But it is becoming obvious to me that I need to do something different. Make some kind of change. As they say, "If you do what you've always done, you'll get what you've always got."

I don't know what the solutions might be. They're as distant and daunting as the Great Divide, as close and uncomfortable as the prospect of finishing my book. My plan is to spend a lot of time in the mountains this weekend, thinking about it. I'm going to think about it.

Signs of spring

Date: Feb. 13
Time: 95 minutes
Details: Intervals on elliptical trainer at gym; intensity 65-95 percent.

Date: Feb. 14
Mileage: 31
Time: 2 hours, 15 minutes
Weather: Rain showers, 40 degrees, southeast wind 25-45 mph
Details: Pain ride into the wind and back; intensity 60-85 percent

Date: Feb. 15
Mileage: 46
Time: 3 hours, 4 minutes
Weather: overcast, 43 degrees, east wind 10 mph
Details: Mid-distance ride; intensity 65-90 percent

Note: Horrible ice break-up on the road north of Eagle Beach

My perusal of the weather report had me questioning whether I should even bother setting out for a "distance" training ride today. Not because the forecast was bad, but because it was so startlingly, unconscionably good. Monday's forecast called for light showers, light wind and temperatures in the low 40s. There was supposed to be a little more rain and a breeze on Tuesday, and then it just skyrocketed from there, turning from partly cloudy to mostly sunny to outright sunny with a 0-percent change of precipitation, light winds and temperatures near 50 degrees. Fifty degrees! High pressure like that often brings serious fog inversions at sea level. Which means I would almost certainly spend those days seeking out high places in the mountains, because it's going to be June-like in the alpine. A prolonged mountain bender will almost certainly wreck any bike training I've been doing with burning-quad, swollen knee, sore back overindulgence, so why even bother with the bike training?

But it was such a beautiful day for a ride, why give it up? As I rolled my road bike down my dusty driveway, there was a strange and yet deeply familiar aroma in the air - a thick, moist sweetness infused with fresh dirt and hints of decay. The smell of spring. And sure enough, as I pedaled down the road, I saw new life emerging from the alder branches:

On Feb. 15. In Juneau, Alaska, latitude 58° 18'. Just when the eastern weather blitz is pretty much guaranteeing snow and ice in places as far south as Alabama and Florida. Could this be the strangest winter ever?