The echo of the shot rumbled across the face of the mountain. I stopped and watched, sure I would see an avalanche roaring down, but no such luck. Apparently even large-bore handgun fire wasn't enough to set off avalanches under the current snow conditions.
The conditions were perfect for snowshoeing, however. It was a beautiful day, which, according to the low standards Valdez residents must adopt, meant that it wasn't dismal and gloomy. Actually, the cloud cover was high and incomplete, and the early afternoon sun was just peeking over the mountains to the southeast. I saw my shadow for the first time in weeks. At 20 degrees, the temperature was perfect for outdoor activity.
I'd decided to spend the afternoon snowshoeing out to Valdez Glacier. The road was only plowed to the rifle range (the source of the echoing shots), so I had to hike about a mile to the lake. Anna and her dog, Cooper, caught up with me just as I'd crested a little hill out on the lake. I tell you, it is quite disconcerting to be all by yourself in the middle of a wide-open space in the middle of winter and suddenly hear an animal come up behind you. I've never been so glad to see a simple dog.
Out on the lake, Anna, Cooper, and I broke trail to the right side where several large icebergs had been stranded, and then we wound around to the left to the face of Valdez Glacier. I was disappointed that we'd had enough snow that the crevasses cutting back into the glacier were largely filled. It was nothing like last winter's foray into canyons of blue and purple light. Ah, well, the bergs still glowed with that distinctive inner turquoise light that makes me want to figure out how to capture it with glass.
After an hour or so of high stepping through soft snow, my aching hips were relieved to have a snowmachine track to follow along the lake shore back to our starting point. We kept a close eye out for ptarmigan, but saw nothing but lines of tracks between clumps of willows and alders. I have no doubt there were dozens of birds hidden away in little hollows, well camoflauged in their white feathers.
Our parting views as we hiked back to our vehicles was of the sun setting behind the mountains it had just risen over. Sun is rare and fleeting in winter in Valdez, but oh, so wonderful.
