Hike 12: Rainbow Mountains, Peru (Sept 4 - 9)

This trip was not my idea and I cannot take credit for it. 

Last winter, Ted went to a presentation by Killa Expeditions in Anchorage. One day after work in Juneau while drinking gin at Amalga Distillery, Hedy (Ted's wife) told me they were planning a trip to Peru to go trekking and camping. I immediately said, "That sounds amazing. We are going to have so much fun!" And then stopped myself, realizing that I had invited myself on the trip. I asked her to confirm that I was invited, and I was. 

This started the planning, which included preparation for high altitude trekking. My version of prepping was walking more frequently and hiking more frequently. I decided that an appropriate 3-month check point would be doing the Chilkoot Trail, which happened to align with my 30th birthday, which led to me starting this entire project. 

There are a number of things they recommend you do before a high altitude trek - none of which I did. Ted sufficiently scared me when it came to altitude sickness, so I was anxious going on this trip. Altitude sickness is nondiscriminatory in who it affects. Reading about it, it is evident that even those in peak physical condition still suffer from it. You can get prescription medication to combat it. I went to my doctor before and got a prescription of Diamox. And, it turns out that insurance doesn't cover those $80 pills. 

In addition to altitude sickness, Diamox is used to treat glaucoma, epilepsy, periodic paralysis, idiopathic intracranial hypertension, and heart failures (this is verbatim from Wikipedia). I was more interested in learning what the drug does, instead of reading about the side effects, so I skipped that part. Diamox "forces the kidneys to excrete bicarbonate." Ultimately your blood becomes more acidic, which tricks the body into thinking there's excess CO2 in the blood, which causes the body to increase the amount of oxygen in the blood. The drug doesn't cure altitude sickness, but it does relieve the symptoms which include: Headache, dizziness, nausea, vomiting, fatigue and loss of energy, shortness of breath, problems with sleep, and less appetite. The three types of altitude sickness are: Acute Mountain Sickness (mildest form and very common); High Altitude Pulmonary Edema (can be very dangerous and life threatening); and High Altitude Cerebral Edema (life threatening). 

So, we did it. We started hiking more, started being healthier, and one of the other things they say that makes you more likely to suffer from altitude sickness is alcohol, so we stopped drinking a week before the trip. (Although, we did have some wine on the very long layover in Los Angeles.) 

We planned on 2 1/2 days of acclimatization before the hike began. We arrived a Saturday afternoon, and started hiking Tuesday morning. Cusco is at an elevation of 11,152 feet. We live at sea-level. And do you want to know what a really bad combination is?! 14 hours in planes (not including layovers), 4 hour time zone change, and 11,152 ft. elevation change. Immediately, I had a headache, felt nauseous, I was also dehydrated, and probably had other symptoms that I didn't notice because those three were pretty prevalent above anything else. I took my Diamox that day. And drank the Coca tea that is highly recommended to deal with altitude symptoms. 

We spent 2 and a half days being tourists in Cusco, and had a surprise parade on Sunday morning. Just before the parade, we were sitting there having breakfast at a very cute café and my toes started tingling. After hiking the Chilkoot trail, my big toe on my right foot has been numb. When I spoke to my doctor before this trip, she told me to keep an eye on it and we would maybe do some tests in the future. Well, now my feet are tingling all over, and my first thought was, “Well, I guess I’ve got nerve damage. Still going on the hike.” It went away that afternoon, but I was still slightly concerned.

Day 1: Tinki Community - Upis Community

We were picked up by the bus at 6 am and joined the other two hikers, Alex and Joseph. They were both independent travelers, but ended up becoming brothers before the end of the trip. We drove about 4 hours to get to Tinki Community, with amazing views along the way, and we started to gain a little elevation. We got to the community of Tinki, offloaded the bus, and they set up a table for us to have breakfast. The elevation of Tinki is approximately 12,780 ft. 

Breakfast at the beginning of the trail, Ausangate in the background.

Ted bought his hat from this woman.  

After breakfast, we started to walk. It was reasonably flat with a slight incline up to Upis Pass that has an elevation of ~14,100. Before we got to the pass, we were headed towards Upis Community, which is located at the end of the road and the beginning of the trailhead. I'm going to be honest, it is unbelievably difficult to walk and breathe at that elevation. We weren't walking fast, but I would have to stop regularly to catch my breath. Hedy was having an even harder time. She described it as "I just don't have any fuel." She got a ride with the taxi, Torre Estrella (Star Tower), the horse with the horse-man, Giraldo, leading the way. 

Hedy with Torre Estrella 

We made it to our lunch spot, the end of the road, and it was next to a school. Ted brought stickers to give to the children, and they were very excited to receive them. We had about a 2 hour lunch stop, and it was an amazing lunch. This is when we really learned the difference between backpacking and trekking. 

Backpacking meal breaks consists of food to keep you going and isn't much of an ordeal, trekking includes a four course meal (appetizer, soup, main course, and dessert). Five courses if you include after-lunch tea. After the appetizer and the soup, I was full, and then here comes the actual lunch. So, I ate - what I would consider - 'normal' portions of lunch. And who is going to say no to dessert? Needless to say, I was not hungry after lunch. If I were at home, I would likely skip dinner after a meal like that. 

Ted demonstrating the application of stickers. 

The first ones out of school. 

The older ones out of school. The kids and adults wear traditional clothing regularly. 

After lunch, we started walking again. It wasn't more than 20 steps, and I felt like I was dragging. Every step felt like I was wearing shoes of lead and I was breathing hard. My head started to throb, breathing was difficult, and my vision started to narrow. I was still putting one weighted foot in front of the other, but my eyes could only see one or two stones on the ground ahead of me. I would stop frequently and take breaks to breathe and try and feel normal again. Folks were chatting around me, but participating in the conversation was exponentially exhausting. And this was day one.

Alpacas on the road. 

After about a half hour, I started to feel normal again. My guess is that my body was using all its energy to digest the lunch we had just eaten instead of walking. And given the thinness of the air as we started to work our way up to Upis Pass at 14,100 ft., my body was not capable of handling too many processes at once. 

Almost to Upis Pass. 

As we left the lunch area, school had just released, and some of the students lived in the same direction we were heading, and they were more than happy to walk with us and listen to us wheeze. The primary language of the students is Quechua and Spanish is a second language. The good news is that we both spoke an equivalent amount of Spanish. Two of the girls, Jenny, about 10, and Fanny, probably 4 or 5, joined us walking. They walked with Ted and the assistant guide, Gido (pronounced gee-doh). Gido spoke Quechua, Spanish, and English and was happy to translate between Ted and the girls. Ted brought some chap stick to give away to kids in addition to the stickers, and he gave Jenny some MatSu Borough chap stick.

Ted with Jenny, Fanny, and Alpacas. (Didn't learn the little boys name.)

After the girls got tired of walking with Ted, they slowed down and joined me. I did something that tickled Fanny’s funny bone because she would intermittently burst out in laughter as we walked along. And she had a very contagious cackle. From the school to the spot they split off, it was about 2 hours. Every morning and afternoon these two girls walk to school (and yes, it is uphill both ways, which makes it technically downhill both ways as well).

When we got to the pass and started to head downhill to the flat area before camp, Hedy tried to walk again. Even downhill, it was difficult, so she went back to her taxi cab, Torre Estrella, and they hurried off to camp. Riding a horse all day will make your legs sore.

Final stretch to Upis Community. We camped at the base of Ausangate. 

We made it to camp just as the sun was getting ready to set. There were hot springs nearby, and we could have gone, but honestly it was too cold and I was exhausted. Camp was set up, and as soon as we plopped down in our tents, we were brought aguas calientes to wash up with. We met shortly after for tea and palamitas.

I have high school-level Spanish. In the months before this trip I started using Duolingo again, which was very helpful to be able to hear Spanish. So, one of the things I enjoyed was learning new words, like palamitas, which is popcorn.

 

Tea rolled directly in to dinner. I honestly didn’t want to leave the warm tent, and I don’t think anyone else did either. Hedy was sleeping in her tent, but joined us in the dinner tent and was having a difficult time warming up. And even though we had mashed potatoes, she could barely eat. After dinner, we were surprised with warm water bladders. I put mine under my layers on my chest and I was warm as a bug. When we left the tent, we received another surprise.

Every step of this hike was a new personal record for elevation, and when you’re camping at 14,461 ft., light pollution does not exist.

More pictures from Day 1.

Day 2: Upis Community – Arapa Pass – Pucaccocha

While sleeping, there were a few times in the night that I woke up gasping for air. I stayed warm, and figured out a new way to keep myself warm while sleeping in the middle of the night, to the point that I had to stick my arm out of my sleeping bag in the freezing tent to cool off. We were awaken at 6 am with Coca Tea and aguas calientes. Breakfast was at 7 am, and we were meant to be hiking at 8 am.

I sat for a few minutes with my Coca Tea, just waking up before starting the process of getting out of pajamas and in to hiking clothes, and then packing up my sleeping gear. After getting packed up, I went over to see how Hedy was doing. Ted looked at me and said, “You know Hedy left last night, right?”

I didn’t, but I did get the story.

Around midnight, Hedy woke up Ted and said, “Something isn’t right.” Apparently he pulled out his medical camping book and said, “Well, you definitely don’t have pulmonary edema, but it could be one of these other things.” Ted went to check with our lead guide, Effy, and he said that we should wait until morning. Then, Effy heard her coughing and came over. He asked her to do a couple of things, and then said, “Oh, shit. You need to go.” Apparently, she did have Pulmonary Edema.

Hedy got High Altitude Pulmonary Edema (remember when I casually mentioned it earlier as a result of Altitude Sickness?). It is life-threatening and has a high mortality rate in the absence of adequate emergency treatment (Thanks, Wikipedia). The symptoms of HAPE are: shortness of breath at rest; cough; weakness or decreased exercise performance (for example, not being able to walk); and chest tightness. Signs include cracking or wheezing while breathing, rapid breathing, rapid heart rate, and blue skin color. Effy immediately heard the crackling in her breath.

Effy went and got Florenzo, Gido, and Giraldo, along with Torre Estrella and one of the other horses. They bundled Hedy up on Torre Estrella and they started their way back to Tinki, at 1 am. One of the Peruvian geese startled Torre Estrella, and Hedy ended up on the ground on her back. They made it back to Tinki Community in about 2 hours (after an all day hike), and back to Cusco, in what Hedy describes as the most harrowing taxi (vehicle taxi this time) ride of her life. The previous day it took us 4 hours to drive that same winding road, and she made it back in 2 hours. But we didn’t know that the horse bucked Hedy until we saw her 3 days later in Cusco. 

There was no cell service either, so we couldn’t just call and see how she was doing.

At some point, I'm going to share this doctor with my story, and the conclusion will be: Don't even let it be an option. When someone is going to high altitude, no matter what, have them get Diamox. Just in case. 

Hedy in the hospital.

Well, the trek must go on, right? We had breakfast and were on the trail by 8 am, but not after getting a chance to meet the entire crew.

The Killa Expedition Staff. 

In this picture, you can see a chinchilla. These critters are native to this land, and are the guardians of the glacier. Glaciers were considered gods because they provided water for the Incans. Chinchillas are rare to see in the wild and have been overhunted for their pelts. Primarily they are kept as pets. 

The stone walls are built by families over the years and passed from generation to generation with the herding grounds. The huts are where the families stay. Different families will have multiple areas and move from one side of the mountain to the other depends on needs and seasons. 

Ted with the far-off gaze. 

This was day 2 of wearing the same clothes, I wasn't stinky yet. 

Fellow hiker, Joseph. 

That day, we were hiking up to Arapa Pass, and then to Pucaccocha or Red Lake. And slowly, one step at a time, with lots of breaks to catch our breath, we moved upward. Arapa Pass is at 15,748 ft. When we got there, we had a much deserved snack break and enjoyed the view.

While sitting there taking everything in, and making several “I’ve never been so high…” jokes, Effy spotted 4 vicunas on the ridge. They started chasing each other and ran down closer. Of course I left my zoom lens in my bag at the pass, so I went down to grab it and try and sneak a little closer.

The spec on the left is Ted. 

The group, minus me and Hedy. 

Close of up Ausangate glaciers.

One more. 

There are four types of camelids in South America. Two are domesticated: Llamas and Alpacas; and two are wild: Vicunas and Guanacos. Guanacos are primarily found in Patagonia, so we did not seem them.

While we were on Arapa Pass, Effy turned on his cell phone, and he got cell service. He was able to call Gido and hear that Hedy was fine, in the hospital, and improving.

After pictures, we started to walk bajada or downhill. I told Effy, Me gusta bajada. The trail led past some sheep, alpacas, and along the side of a valley. We rounded a corner, and descended to our lunch spot. After lunch, it was going to be a short walk 1-2 hour walk to our campsite at Pucaccocha. At lunch, we were talking about how we were feeling, and I had mentioned that I took Diamox as needed while we were hiking. He asked if I had been experiencing any tingling in my fingers or face, I told him that I hadn’t. He shared that tingling was a side-effect of Diamox, and then I remembered when we were having breakfast in Cusco. I had experienced tingling, but thought that it could be potential nerve damage because my toe had been numb since July. He reassured me that it was the Diamox and not nerve damage.  

Just before lunch. 

At lunch and dinner, the first thing we had when we got to camp was some juice and aguas calientes to wash our hand and face. Every day the juice was something different. 

While shopping in Cusco before the trip, there were a lot of scarves. And honestly, we didn't need any more scarves, but there they were, with beautiful sweaters. The salesmen kept telling Hedy how great she looked in all the different colors, but her favorite color is purple. Finally, we found a child's size purple sweater and I asked the salesman how to say purple in Spanish. It's morrada. 

So, when we got to lunch that day, we were handed a cup of juice, and it was really tasty. There were small pieces of sweet fruit in it and it was served warm. Effy told us it was chichamorrada, or literally, "Purple Drink." I laughed and shared it. 

In his past life, Ted was a middle school science teacher. And he spent a lot of time sharing his knowledge about the rocks and land around us. Coming from a glacial area, I could recognize some of the notable characteristics that receding glaciers leave behind. He was able to share much more about the different rocks we were looking at. And our trekking compatriots and guide were interested. In my opinion, it was the perfect combination. Effy knew about the history and culture we were surrounded by, and Ted knew about the land.

Of course it is uphill after lunch. 

You can see alpacas grazing on the side of the mountain. 

Ted is point towards camp below Ausangate. 

Close up view of camp. There were trout in that lake, but it's a private lake and we aren't allowed to fish in it. It's owned by the local herders. 

I shared that one of the things that I have really enjoyed about living in Juneau is learning about the land. In the past 8 years, I have seen the glacier recede and the process of the flora taking over the exposed land. Funnily enough, when I was selling tours in Juneau, I was required to go on the city tour so I knew what I was selling. And the individual who was the tour guide used to work at the Forest Service. He explained to all of us why there were different plants in different locations in Juneau and how it connects to the glacier receding. That stuck with me, and has made me acutely aware of different climates and flora as I visit different place. I shared this with Ted as we were hiking, and he responded saying that the world is like a book, you just need to understand the language to be able to read it. Like my broken Spanish, I’m just starting to learn the language.

My tent. 

Effy told us that the Milky Way was the primary god of the Incans. For this picture, I just faced the camera straight up and got the mountains on both sides of the Supreme God. 

Looking back to camp. 

Milky Way falling behind Ausangate. 

And a tent-selfie, where I didn't realize I was wearing only one glove. But I only needed one hand for all the buttons on the camera. The good news is that I finally figured out the timer. 

In the middle of the night, I woke up to what sounded like a jet landing or a river raging. And it took me a second to think… we’re not close to an airport. There is a river, but it’s not a big one. Oh my god, I think that’s an avalanche. And then I thought about where our campsite was in relation to the glaciers on the mountains, and thought, I think we’re alright. There’s a lake at the bottom of the glacier and it wouldn’t cross the lake and get to us. Plus, the guides would probably be yelling at us if there was a problem, and they wouldn’t camp in a site that is susceptible to avalanches.

More pictures from Day 2.

Day 3: Pucaccocha – Puca Pass – Chillca Valley – Warmisaya Pass – Yanaccocha Lake

When we woke up, the guides confirmed that there was an avalanche the previous night, but that it was around the corner of the mountain, and we couldn’t even see it. I overheard Joseph and Alex commentating on the others flatulence in the tent, and I jumped in the conversation and said, “Yes! High Altitude Gas is a thing.” And one of them – I can’t remember which – seemed thankful to know that it wasn’t him, but that when you get at certain elevations, it affects your body, and you definitely become a little bit noisier. And if you’re interested in reading more, it’s actually called High Altitude Flatus Expulsion. 

Day 3 was the hardest day, we would be doing two passes, Puca Pass and Warmisaya Pass. After breakfast, we turned our backs to Ausangate and went straight up the mountain to Puca Pass at ~16,170 ft. It took about 2 hours to walk up the hill. Had we been at sea-level, it would have taken 20-30 minutes.  Even though I was feeling much stronger than the first day, the air was still thin. It seemed that we would walk for 5 minutes, and then take a breather for 5 minutes. I’m sure it wasn’t that contracted, but it we took regular breaks. From camp to the pass was maybe a mile or two, but straight up hill.

When we departed Puca Pass, we were heading down in to the Chillca Valley. Up until this point, we were hiking to or skirting around Ausangate.

Ausangate is the highest peak in South America at 21,000 feet. We were told that the Incans used to worship Ausangate as a god, before the Spaniards came. The mountain provided water and life to the people that lived near it. Still, there is an annual festival that draws people to celebrate. The Quecha people who live around Ausangate are one of the last pastoral communities in the world. While we were walking past the Quechua, one of my favorite things to see was that wear their traditional clothes regularly. It isn’t something that is reserved for special occasions. The clothing is still functional and worn regularly. In South America, the only other pastoral society is the Aymara of the Andes and Altiplano regions, and in North America, only the Navajo.

The last schlepp uphill to Puca Pass. You can see all the rocks piled at the pass. 

The view to Yanaccocha Lake, where we camped the night before. 

You can see the colors starting to show. 

Selfie at the pass. After catching my breath.

Next was down in to the Chillca Valley where we started to see the colors that were prominent on Rainbow Mountain.

Looking back at Ausangate over Puca Pass. 

The herders spray paint different colors to mark their alpacas. I'm gonna be honest, I took a lot of pictures of Alpacas, and my favorite thing to say was, "There's some alpaca caca, don't step on it!" 

Got a little close to these ones. 

Lunch was located at the base of the second pass of the day. One of the things that I was very cautious about, after the first day, was ensuring that I didn’t eat too much. I think Effy noticed, because he brought it up. But not only was I worried about the throbbing headache that I had the first day, but I also just had a loss of appetite. Another symptom of altitude sickness. 

Parade of llamas with earrings at lunch. 

After lunch, we were heading to our second pass of the day Warmisaya Pass at 16,355 ft. At lunch, Effy said that if we went the long route, we might see more vicunas, or we could go the short route – straight up. As we were walking, Effy asked us what we thought, and I reminded him that he said we could see vicunas if we went the long way. Joseph said, “Oh, thank god someone said something.” Two passes in a day is exhausting. I was definitely lagging behind. As we got up a little higher, it got a little windier, and we were in the shadow of the mountain at the pass. I hate to say it, but I didn’t have much stamina in the cold, and went and found a place out of the wind and a little down the path.

Photo looking back to the Chillca Valley just before the Warmisaya Pass. It was very windy and cold. 

My "I'm actually really fucking cold and being from Alaska doesn't make a difference" smile. 

Looking down to camp at Yanaccocha Lake. You can see our trail down. Effy told us that 3 weeks prior, it was all snow. 

The sign at Warmisaya pass announcing we were at 16,355 ft. Torre Estrella is not amused. 

Finally out of the wind and at camp.

After Warmisaya pass, it was straight down to camp. That night, we camped at Yanaccocha Lake. The elevation was less than 16,000, but definitely in the high 15,000s. At dinner, Effy asked us if we wanted to watch the sunrise over Rainbow Mountain. I feel that question answers itself, and we all agreed to do that. That meant we were up at 4 am, no breakfast, and on the trail at 430 am. It takes about 2 hours to get there for a 630 am sunrise. After a few night photos, it was early to bed.

Meal tent, and the crew quarters. 

More pictures from Day 3.

Day 4: Yanaccocha Lake – Rainbow Mountain (16,508 ft.) – Cusco

At 3:50 a.m., I got my cup of Coca Tea, and had mostly packed the night before. As we started to hike in the dark, I realized that my headlamp was terrible, or the batteries were dying. Either way, I was thankful for having someone behind me with a bright headlamp.

Maybe 30 or 40 minutes in, I started to really lose energy. I kept drinking water, but I could tell that my body was running low on fuel. Even though it wasn’t supposed to be a break, I told Effy I needed something to eat, even just a couple of bites. One of my fellow hikers cheerily, stated that I just needed more water. But, in fact, it was food I was in need of. (I'm not a morning person, so the exuberance was a bit much for me at that moment.) After gnawing off two or three bites of a frozen Rx bar, I shoved it in my pocket, and we kept going.

As it started to get light, there were plenty of places to take beautiful pictures, but it was dark and cold and we had a sunrise to catch, so I didn’t stop. I was also the slowest, so stopping would have slowed the group down even more. When we were just around the corner from Rainbow Mountain, Alex and Joseph ran the last bit. To the top. Which was at 16,508 feet – the highest elevation of the entire trip. And they ran. Meanwhile, I was slow and steady huffing my way up the side of the mountain.  Despite moving slowly, we still made the hike in one hour twenty minutes. Effy said it was a record.

This about the spot that Alex and Joseph starting running. Ted and I continued on like the Tortoise rather than the Hare. 

Every single step the last little bit up the mountain took effort. I have a friend that I go hiking with regularly and she has asthma. It was moments like these I thought of all the hikes we had been on together and how she needed regular stops to catch her breath. The whole week, I kept thinking about her and her struggle with breathing. I could fully empathize with her now. And it's a bizarre feeling knowing that you're breathing normally, the atmosphere is just thinner and you have to go slowly. 

Tea and breakfast at 16,508 ft. 

The double-selfie! Also, I accidentally left the ISO up way too high and didn't realize that until I loaded the pictures on the computer after getting back. 

Then the tourists show up around 8:30/9ish from Cusco and surrounding areas. Until that point, we had the entire mountain and sunrise for 2 hours to ourselves. Then we walked downhill, while everyone else heaved while heading up. 

The final dinner. Oh, and can I tell you how much I scarfed down those tomatoes and cucumbers. I think they just put salt and pepper on it, but I felt like a kid in a candy store and couldn't get enough. 

Two gentleman chatting. We camped at the base of the mountain behind them. Rainbow mountain is just to the left, and Ausangate is on the right out of view. 

Then we were done hiking. We had lunch, got in the bus, and started the drive back to Cusco.

Hedy was at the hotel when we got there. Excited to see her, I gave her a hug, and she gave a gentle encouragement to shower. I asked if it was that bad, and she replied, “You’ve definitely smelled better.” It was a fair point considering I had worn the same clothes for 4 days.

At the end, the grand total was 32 miles with the highest elevation of 16,508 feet. That night, I went to bed in a hotel. and I'm going to be honest, I missed the tent and the sleeping pad. 

More pictures of Day 4. 

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Killa Expeditions is the company that we went on the trek with. Mama Killa is the moon goddess or Mother Moon in Incan Mythology. Killa Expeditions did an amazing job with us. After the trek, we stopped and did the iconic tourist attractions in Peru including the Salineras at Moray, the Terraces at Moray, and ultimately Machu Picchu. Killa also does social projects. They are currently in the process of building a school in the community at Willoc Alto. They prioritize giving back to the communities that their guests visit on their treks. Instead of paraphrasing, I’ll steal from their webpage, verbatim:

At Killa Expeditions we are passionate about giving back to local communities, providing for the families and villages who let us use their land for trekking and camping, and supporting locally owned/run businesses. Each year we hold numerous charity events for a variety of local communities. People living in the mountains do not have access to regular medical or dental care and often don’t have basic necessities, shoes or proper clothing. If you would like to help us give back – be it time, money, supplies, clothing, shoes, medicine, and/or professional expertise (e.g. medical advice, dentistry, nursing, chiropractic adjustments, etc.) please get in touch to find out how you can help! In the future, we hope to raise funding and labor to help build schools at other communities as well as provide various professional services via volunteers such as a doctor/nurse clinic, chiropractic adjustment, dental checks, vising and hearing checks and more!

When we were hiking, Effy shared that by building these schools in the communities, it helps keep families together. A lot of times, kids have to travel to attend schools on a regular basis. Needless to say, we all found Killa Expeditions to be an amazing company that hired locally, and the service they provided was beyond exceptional. It was an amazing trip.  

Hike 11: Salmon Creek Dam, Juneau (August 26)

In a effort to do some last minute training before Peru, my coworker-friend and I opted for a quick Sunday hike, before an evening flight. Given the time constraint, I picked out two hikes for us: Herbert Glacier and Salmon Creek. I was personally learning towards going on Herbert Glacier Trail, but my roommate convinced me otherwise based on the significance of the dam. I have wandered up the trail several times to Salmon Creek Dam, but always turned around. So, I'm counting this one in the 30 new hikes.

Salmon Creek Dam was built in 1914, and at the time was a "marvel of engineering of the time" it was the first constant angle arch variable radius dam in the world. The history, theory, and design can be easily read on the Wikipedia page instead of me bumbling through a reexplanation. It was built the the Alaska-Gastineau Mining Company to provide electricity for the mining needs. It still produces electricity and is a source of drinking water. Because of the engineering marvel that is sitting in our back yard that I haven't taken the time to visit in 8 years of Juneau-residency, it was decided that we would do the Salmon Creek Dam Trail.

Salmon Creek Trail is ranked as moderate, and is reasonable flat with the exception of the first quarter mile(ish) and the last bit that goes up several sets of stairs to the Dam. And honestly, when we got to the top and found the platform above the alpine, it felt like we had left Juneau and had been transported somewhere else.

Lunch at the end, with a view. 

Dam on the right. 

And because it's my favorite joke... 

What did the fish say when he ran in to the wall? 

A: Dam!

Hike 10: Verstovia/Picnic Rock; Sitka, AK

I travel for work a lot, so I have been trying to incorporate hikes while on work trips. So, on a day trip to Sitka, the meetings ended early, I spent the afternoon doing another hike with a teacher-friend. And, because I have an iphone and apple is great with planned obsolescence in the version of an inefficient battery, my phone died so I only got a couple of photos.



With a plane to catch in the evening, we booked it. Verstovia is just south of the main town area and the start of the trail is next to someone's house. If the sign wasn't there and if I didn't have someone who knew the trail, I don't think I would have found the trail head.

The trail is well marked and is a few switch backs. You gain elevation quickly, and it's worth it at the top.

So, for the name... Verstovia is the name of the entire mountain. The trail leads to an amazing look out point, which is the natural turn around. That spot is called Picnic Rock. Above it is a pointy, rocky peak that is called "Arrowhead." Altogether is Verstovia. After scrambling to the top and struggling and feeling tired, we turned around and I went to the airport.

Carved in to some of the steps: Mount Verstovia

The last few steps to Picnic Rock.

View from the top. 

Hike 9: Angel Rocks, Fairbanks, AK (July 28)

This hike was a little more difficult than I would like to admit. It wasn't very long, but maybe it was the heat, the different air in Fairbanks, or that it was after work with Fairbanks coworkers, but I'm glad I had lots of water and my hiking poles.

Angle Rocks Trail starts on Chena Hot Springs Road (about 49 miles out of Fairbanks) - almost all the way out there, and if you're doing the long version, you can end at Chena after a 7 mile hike. The short version is 3.5 mile loop. (For more accurate location information, this is a good spot to look.)

The trail starts out along the river, and then heads up towards the Angel Rocks which are granite outcrops and of course, we had to scramble up on top of them. I'll be honest, I was a little nervous climbing up on them, because if I turned around to look behind me, it was probably about a 600 ft drop, without anything to catch me or prevent serious injury or death. But Mike got up there, so I could too, right? And there's that saying about being outside of your comfort zone, but the limitations are if you fall off and die, that might be a little too far outside the comfort zone.

Turns out, everything was fine, and we scrambled down the rocks a less scary way than we came up.

After scrambling around the rocks, we began the hike down and took our time eating blueberries and keeping an eye out for bears.

Looking up from the bluff. 

View from Angel Rocks. 

The hiking trio! It was warm. 

Hike #8: McGinnis; July 21

Update: I made it to the summit. 

I, like everyone else in Juneau, cannot believe the weather that we have had. Yesterday, Saturday, September 29, it was an amazingly beautiful autumn day. I intended to get an earlier start than I did, but still went for McGinnis at 9:20 am. I made it up in 4 hours, had an hour lunch, and took 4 hours to come down. Approximately 10 miles in 9 hours. 

I don't know if this makes sense, but hiking up that mountain, the feeling of resentment started to percolate. It felt silly to have a feeling of resentment towards a mountain, but it was there. I was frustrated at how difficult it was and how tired I was. After 2 and a half hours, I knew that I still had a ways to go. And, I knew that what goes up, must come down. I wasn't going to get a ride down this time. And I started fantasizing how nice it would be to have a zipline zig-zag down the mountain from the top.  But, the accomplishment of climbing a mountain is only 50%, the other half is getting back down. 

On the way down, my knees turned quickly reminded me that I have not been doing what my physical therapist told me to do. For most people, going downhill is easier than up, but not for me. I move slowly while going down because I can't bend my right knee without it feeling like there's an ice pick jammed in it. Which causes me to put a lot of weight on my hiking poles and my left leg, which leads to cramping in my left calf. And because I was in a hurry to get up the mountain, I forgot to ingest any type of pain relief medicine and simultaneously forgot to put it in my first aid kit. The first hiker I ran in to while descending, I asked if they had any drugs to spare, and they happily handed me ibuprofen. It's my personal opinion that there is a special place in heaven for hikers that share pain relievers on the trail. 

One thing I enjoy about hiking is the solitude, but also chatting with people. Maybe it was the weather, maybe it was the lack of tourists or the crisp air, but something about they day made everyone exceptionally friendly. At the top of the mountain while eating lunch, I chatted with two UAS students. Their knees are stronger than mine, so they ran down the mountain. And when I got down further, I ended up hiking the last 45 minutes of West Glacier/Ice Caves with another woman. I don't know if I'll see her again, but we had a great conversation, and the last bit of the hike just flew by. 

Before I knew it, I was back to the car with enough energy to stretch haphazardly, have a glass of wine, and go to bed around 830. 

Autumn colors on the mountain. About 2.5 hours in. 

Mountain Top Selfie. 

Looking to Stroller White and Mendenhall Glacier.  

Looking down the McGinnis ridge to Mendenhall Valley and Auke Bay. 

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The nice thing about doing something, like this project (The 30-hikes in my 30th year) that I've embarked on, is that I'm doing it for myself. I'm not being guilted, coerced, or pressured in to this project. It's a healthy hobby, and a good way to welcome in Middle Age (Yes, I'm calling 30 middle age). Another nice thing, is that you also get to set your own goals, and sometimes those goals change, and that's alright. There was one point when I started laughing out loud and to myself while on the Chilkoot Trail when I realized that in an age of instant gratification, it's kind of silly to start something, with the goal or final destination being the exact same place that you started: Skagway. I finally understood the whole "It's not the destination, it's the journey" saying. 

Anyway, we decided that the weekend of July 21 would be when we schlepped up the side of McGinnis. There were 5 of us, a puppy, and far too much beer for an overnight trek. 

Elevation: 4228

Ranking: Difficult

Length: I couldn't really tell you because I wasn't tracking it, and there doesn't seem to be a good website (from a cursory google search) that would tell you exactly how long it is. And we didn't finish. So, feel free to let me know if you have a better idea than I do.

We started on the trail around 815/830ish and began marching along. It was beautiful and sunny and warm as the 5 bipeds and single quadriped started to move down the trail. We were slow moving with our oversized packs and took a few stops to snack and rest. 

The first split in the trail comes when "West Glacier Trail" splits from the "Ice Caves Trail." Ice caves continues down to the face of the glacier, and West Glacier has a sharp left switchback with more rock steps up the side of the mountain before getting a little flatter while hiking to the end of West Glacier. At the end of West Glacier, there's an amazing outlook over the top of Mendenhall Glacier which is where we stopped to have lunch around 1230.

   

This is where West Glacier Trail ends, apparently, and then McGinnis Trail begins. So, getting back to the length issue, when you look at the length of the trail, supposedly this is where it starts, even though you've already hiked probably hiked a bazillion miles. Kidding, it's apparently 3 miles, according to this webite. And then there's only 1.75 miles left to the top of the mountain (I don't believe that though), with some nice Alaskan Switchbacks. The trail starts in some Alders before you get back in to the forest. And I'll be honest, I forgot to stop and take pictures while going up those Alaskan Switchbacks. Here are a few though:

Looking up at Stroller White. 

SIDE STORY: I did not even know the name of Stroller White until my hiking companions started talking about it. A month later, I found myself in a Parnassus Book Store in Ketchikan and there was a book in the Alaska section that caught my eye, and said something about E.J. "Stroller" White. I thought to myself, Oh! That's what that mountain is named after. Neat! 

If you remember from previous posts, I was slightly obsessed and tried diligently to figure out who this Dewey-guy was. (Mt. Dewey in Wrangell and Upper/Lower Dewey Loop in Skagway.) So, I was excited that Stroller White was such an easy man to find. So, in writing this, I googled him to learn about who he was and why he has this mountain named after him. Not sure about the naming, but the man came to Alaska with the hordes of men during the Klondike Gold Rush. He was based in Skaguay and worked for the newspaper. He followed the Gold Rush to Dawson and ultimately to Whitehorse, all the while working for the respective newspapers. Eventually he moved to Douglas and bought the Douglas Island News. He passed in September 1930 and can now be found in the Evergreen Cemetary. 

Back to the hike... 

This is the part of the hike where things started to get difficult and there were isolated conversations or thoughts about turning around. We were having some knee problems, and the we started shuffling bags up the steep muddy parts. It was like climbing a ladder, but the rungs of the ladder were roots and rocks. And not the nice rock stairs that TrailMix puts in. It was starting to get in to the late afternoon and it we were getting tired. 

As soon as we got up the steep part, we were almost to the edge of the alpine, and stopped at the first flat spot to set up camp and drink some of the 12-pack of beer and the 3-liter bag of wine. (Yes, I know. Way too much for a single night. We have already had this collective conversation.) 

While we were hanging out and enjoying the evening and view, all of a sudden, a couple of people come running up the mountain. And of course, it was one of the same people who we ran in to on Mt. Juneau a month prior. 

Dinner - Veggie and Meat Kabobs

Camping on the side of a mountain.

It's a blurry photo, but it was absolutely amazing sitting on the side of a mountain, enjoying the glacier view and the warmth of a fire. 

Sunrise.

In the morning, we woke up, had breakfast. And because of the steepness of the rise of the mountain and concerns about knees, two of us decided that we would hitch a ride down the mountain with Coastal and take the heavier bags with us. A friend came and picked the two of us up while the rest started down the mountain with our canine compatriot. 

And apparently, because I can't figure out how to get a video from an app to here, I recorded the helicopter taking off and showing us how far we had to go. I muted it and put music over it, because no one needs to hear my commentary about how far we had to go and how we never would have made it with the amount of water we had, or how terrifyingly steep the backside of McGinnis Drops off.  

So, for now, I haven't checked off the peak of McGinnis, but that's the thing about making your own rules. You get to break them without consequence. Next sunny weekend day - that isn't snowy - I'll try to hike to the top without all the extra gear, and keep it to a day trip. 

Hike #7: Thunder Mountain, July 14 (Juneau)

Like a good Southeast Alaska day, the weather forecast called for 30% chance of rain around 2 pm and 100% chance of rain by 4 pm. Jay*, Em*, and myself aimed to start at the Jennifer Dr trailhead for Thunder Mountain, at 9 am, and arrived right on time at 10:30.

The trail begins with Alaska Switchbacks** to get up to the first flat area before turning East and heading towards the ridge. At around 1600 ft elevation, the trail merges with the DOT/Fred Meyer trailhead. The rain showed up earlier than we thought it would, and we stopped for lunch around 230 at a ridge. The clouds had rolled in and we were getting tired and cold so decided to turn around and 

begin heading down.

This was one of the few meadows, but yes, all foggy/cloudy.

What an amazing view! (Also, it was cold)

The ridge is up there somewhere, but this is where we had lunch and turned around.

We descended to the DOT trail head and crossed a couple of nice meadows along the way. J and M live near the trailhead, so we knew we could walk to their house to warm up and grab a vehicle. Because of some problem knees, it was a slow decent. We had a nice long day of hiking 11 hours in the rain. We got to know a new trail that none of us had been on before and we’ll be ready for the next time we want to go for a jaunt up Thunder Mountain. Next time, we’ll wait for sun so we can get the good view. 

Bog Selfie

*Not actual names.
**Alaska Switchbacks = Straight up the side of the mountain.

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Update: August 4

I've begun to look at the mountains differently since I've started climbing to the top of them. I'm paying more attention to them and thinking about how difficult it would be to climb to the top. Well, yesterday I was on the way to work, and made a quick stop to drop off recycling and realized how nice it was, and the only reason I was going to work was because the weatherman lied to us and said it would be raining and I had planned on working the weekend and not hiking. At the recycling center, it was very clear that Thunder Mountain would have a great view from the top. So, I went home, grabbed my hiking shoes and went to the trail head.

I pushed myself, and after 30 min, I was tired and ready to turn around and settle with the fact that this mountain would be unconquerable for me, and that it'll just taunt me every day on the way to work. My legs were tired, I was breathing hard, sweating, and I wanted to turn around and do something easier than climb a mountain. I wanted to quit, and I honestly wondered why I made a public declaration of doing this project. But then, the lyrics to that song came back to me, "If you do what is easy, life will be hard." And remembered that it's not a race, I just need to get to the top, one step at a time, and it doesn't matter how long it takes, but it'll be worth it in the end. It's easy to sit at home and watch hours of cat videos, it's hard to climb up to the top of a mountain.

So, I took a break, and tried to pace myself. It really is straight up. I made it up to the top of the mountain in 2 hours, and spent 30 minutes hiking to a good lunch spot.



The best piece of advice I got before doing the Chilkoot trail was "Bring meat and cheese" for snacks because that's the type of fuel your body is going to need to keep you going, and you won't have the drops in energy that over-sugary energy bars will do to you. I've noticed how my body responds to different inputs and have really started to think of food in terms of fuel for my body. This is a new perspective for me. So, jerky, deli meats, and cheese. For those who know me, know that I am lactose intolerant, for those who don't, I'm telling you now. Bringing cheese is an issue, because I need to find cheese that has little to no lactose. Since finding out about this, goat cheese has been on the shopping list, but it also makes for an expensive snack. So, a block of goat brie, jerky, and a bit of wine were accompanied with this view. I can't complain.

The most difficult part of sharing is choosing the pictures, without having too many, but still having enough to show how beautiful it is and help shape the story. Here are the few from yesterday.

And when you hike alone, you take selfies. Sometimes goofy ones.