It was a dark and stormy night.
No, wait, that's a different story.
I can see clearly now the rain is gone.
I can see all obstacles in my way.
Gone are the dark clouds that had me blind.
It's gonna be a bright (bright)
bright (bright) sunshiny day.
It's gonna be a bright (bright)
bright (bright) sunshiny day.
~Jimmy Cliff, "I Can See Clearly Now"
Yeah, that's better. That's definitely more like it was on Saturday morning when I ventured up to Hatcher Pass, one of my absolute most favoritest places in the world. I love being above treeline surrounded by tundra and glacial erratics. In June, lupine, wild geranium, Eskimo potato, marsh marigold, and many more flowers are blooming in a riot of color. In fall, the tundra is a rich tapestry of maroon, gold, and green. Simply fabulous.
I was in Palmer/Wasilla/Eagle River/Anchorage over the weekend to pick Rowan up at the airport upon her return from three weeks in the British Isles. In an unusual turn of events, I didn't have a million time-consuming errands to run, so I decided to treat myself to a mountain bike ride as a training run before I go to Montana in July. I decided Archangel Road in Hatcher Pass would be the perfect place.
Ugh. Perfect place. Terrible ride.
Oh, let's face it. The ride wasn't the problem, I was.
Archangel Road is about 10 miles (I think) of unmaintained gravel. The first couple of miles is open to car traffic, and really isn't too bad. The road is reasonably smooth (for a road that hasn't seen a grader in the 30 years I've been going up there) and fairly level. At 9:00 in the morning, the air was pleasantly cool, but showed definite signs of warming up under the unencumbered sun. A big grin graced my face as I pedaled away.
In far too short a time I reached a Jersey barrier bearing Stop and Road Closed signs and blocking the road. I chose to assume the signs referred to motorized vehicles only, and rolled on past and over a little bridge. Clearly others took an even more liberal interpretation - I saw two cars parked at the next wide spot.
After the bridge the road surface deteriorated significantly. It would have been rough going on a 4-wheeler. It basically consisted of small boulders and cobbles surrounded by ruts where the fines had washed away. To make matters worse, it started to climb, steeply in some spots. Thanks to being unused to mountain biking, the road surface, and legs that still don't like hills, it wasn't long before I was walking more than riding. When two hikers and their black lab passed me at the middle of one long hill, I finally threw in the towel and headed back. I'd have been much happier continuing on foot, but not while pushing a bike.
Actually, it was a good decision. My skills weren't up to riding down that surface either. I ended up walking down one hill I'd walked up for fear of tumbling and hurting myself. Once past the barrier, however, I loved it again. I just need to choose my rides more carefully in the future. It was a good shake-down ride, however. I figured out that I need to change the seat out on my bike and figure out how to tip the front down (I had very unhappy girly parts). I also learned that I do want to put clipless pedals on my bike. I didn't like the way my feet went flying off them whenever I hit a bump. I'm hoping that the Montana ride will be beginner friendly enough to raise my confidence and allow me some fun. Since it's all on Forest Service roads, I have high hopes.
Since I only rode about seven miles in a little over an hour, I decided to make up for it...punish myself...oh, I admit it, I wanted to find a trail to go for a run on. I saw a sign for the Government Peak Recreation Area, a site new to me, so I thought I'd check it out. Turns out it's primarily a cross country ski area, and seems very well set up with a variety of ski loops. They're hilly enough to be challenging skiing for me, but not so hilly as to be impossible, although I did walk quite a few. A few minutes with the map indicated I could stretch two loops, Matanuska and Susitna, into almost three miles. This time of year the trails were just wide grassy swaths through the birch forest. Numerous streams crossed them, but they had nice wooden bridges so I didn't have to get my feet wet - not in the streams, anyway; they got soaked in the wet grass.
About a quarter of a mile along Matanuska Loop I rounded a corner and startled a mama moose and her calf from their nap. Unfortunately (luckily), they didn't hang around long enough for me to get their picture. I'd love to be able to show you the color difference between an adult moose and a new calf. Adults remind me of a Hershey bar dried out over time (dark brown with a dusty coating), while new calves are more of a rich red-brown, rather like burnt umber paint. Needless to say, my pace slowed even more than normal until I was sure they weren't waiting for me around another corner. "They" say a mama moose is much more dangerous than a bear. I've never felt the need to prove the hypothesis. Not long after I saw those two I came upon Moose Bridge - quite apropos, I thought.
I disturbed another mama on Susitna Loop, this time a spruce grouse with seven half-grown chicks. I probably could have gotten her photo, but she was so clearly agitated that I decided to abandon my paparazzi dreams. I didn't see another soul until I made it back to the parking lot and came across two women headed out for their own adventure. My idea of heaven!
Biking, running, lots of sunshine - what more could I ask for? Oh, yes, Rowan. It was time to be off to pick her up and hear her tales from the British Isles. A good day indeed.
