A prospector who visits these mountains should bring a photograph of the sun with him, as well as a diving suit, but the most useful article would be a flying machine.
- Addison Powell, surveyor of the route through Keystone Canyon in the early 1900s
Wagon Trail, Army Trail, Pack Trail - the trail from the west end of Keystone Canyon to mid-canyon Bridal Veil Falls has had a myriad names that reflect its use over the years, but Carol and I agreed that the most apt name is Goat Trail. Informative signs along the route give clues about the difficulties encountered by surveyors and construction crews as they hacked this trail through the thickets of Keystone Canyon in an attempt to create a passable overland route from Valdez, the northernmost ice-free port, to interior gold fields, but Carol (my mother-in-law) and I were still agog at the feat they accomplished and questioned how it possibly could have been done.
As we scrambled over roots and rocks, firmly planting our feet to stay upright on muddy spots that tried to pitch us down the steep mountainside, we felt a decided kinship with local mountain goats. We also cursed my stupidity in forgetting to bring my never-been-used trekking poles. Having them to help with balance would have made our trek much safer and easier.
Carol came to Valdez this weekend to watch Rowan in the TBA Theatre production of "Canterbury Tales," and I easily convinced her to accompany me on a hike. I'd done the first part of this trail twice before, but never the entire length. We packed sandwiches and water bottles, and set out about 11:00 Sunday morning.
My absolute favorite terrain for hiking is alpine tundra - I love Thompson Pass here in the Valdez area, the Granite Tors trail near Fairbanks, and Hatcher Pass near Palmer. Vistas that extend forever punctuated with glacial erratics and spires of granite evoke an otherworldly feel that causes my soul to soar.
The Goat Trail meanders through my second favorite hiking habitat. Moss-covered rocks and tree stumps, miniature lichen gardens, and rivulets of water appearing out of nowhere lend a primordial cast to the world. While my soul soars in the tundra, I feel more connected to Earth in the temperate rainforest, solidly one with my surroundings. I cannot escape the feeling that were I to drop dead right there on the trail, soon the land would crawl over my corpse and feed on me. Rather than being morbid, I know that I am a part of nature, not an aloof alien on my home planet.
The majority of this trail had no sweeping vistas for me to photograph, so my eye searched for the small things hiding in the dark nooks and crannies. I tried to find images that would help define the nature in which I was immersed.
As we continued our slow crawl down the trail, we eventually climbed high enough that we were able to spy through the alders the sweep of the Lowe River delta and Port Valdez spread out to the west. A turn of the trail plunged us back into the primordial gloom, bringing more roots to trip us and mud to slip on. It felt like we were traveling forever, always climbing up, but information on the trail told us that it was only about three miles long with an elevation gain of 500 feet. I was confident that the trail would eventually meet the highway across from Bridal Veil Falls, but wasn't positive. At one point, I said to Carol, "If this trail doesn't meet the highway, I'm going to be heartbroken." The only alternative would be to turn around and go back the way we came. We could have done it, but we wouldn't have enjoyed it. As it was, it took us just over three hours to traverse those three miles. Not too bad given that we celebrated Carol's 76th birthday this week. She's one awesome woman - and mother-in-law!
Eventually we approached the end of the trail and the views of Bridal Veil Falls across the highway and river. How wonderful to see the falls on level rather than from below.
Much to our relief, the trail eventually did meet the highway at the Bridal Veil parking area. We walked back to Horsetail Falls to find a boulder to sit on to eat our much-delayed lunch. A peanut butter and jelly sandwich never tasted so good, and a graham cracker with Nutella may be one of my new favorite treats.
Following our brief lunch stop, we walked back along the highway to the spot where we'd left my truck. Despite the difficulty and poor footing of the Goat Trail, my legs and feet were really feeling pretty good by the time we were done. What killed me was walking the 1.7 miles back to the truck on pavement. Within a quarter-mile or so my feet, knees, and hips were all aching. Further proof that humans were not intended to live in an asphalt jungle!
On the other hand, we did enjoy moving slowly along the road. After a summer of efforts to engage in 55 mph botany, it was enlightening to slow down and see the variety of flowers still blooming in mid-August. We spotted goldenrod, river beauty, fireweed, anemone, wild geranium, columbine, mimulus, and more that I can't recall. An amazing abundance as we swiftly move into fall (shh, that's a four-letter word!). I commented to Carol that our highway walk reminded me of why I like to tour by bicycle. The world is so much easier to see and enjoy when you take the time to slow down.
