Plane Crashes, Crow Pass Revisited, Fireweed 400 & Other News From the Great Land

Hello!

Wow... I'm looking forward to winter so that I can catch up on some much needed sleep and rest! This summer has been crazy busy and rather exhausting. We started off with an insane decision to enter into the Fireweed 400 bike race. This decision, made back in early May, set the pace for mass training, long rides, even longer hikes, tons of soreness and ultimately, very LONG days with many hours sitting on a bike. We've had and are still planning for visitors from the Lower 48 through the rest of the summer. Fall is already starting to look busy and there's so much to tell!

For starters, I'll revisit Crow Pass. You may remember that two years ago I was completely beaten up and demoralized from my first attempt at hiking Crow Pass from the north side. One year ago, I attempted it as a single day, solo hike from the south side, but opted to do it as an "out and back" due to high water and potentially dangerous conditions. This year, with a group of five, starting from the southern end in Girdwood, success finally came! It took about 13 hours from end to end and the river crossing that had been too dangerous in previous years had finally relented and allowed me to pass through its' waters unscathed.

The weather this year was spectacular! A cool overcast morning gave way to breath taking views above the clouds and sunny skies with even warmer weather that followed us all the way to the end in Eagle River. The "coldest, loneliest toilet" at the top of the pass that was buried under 12+ feet of snow last year was conveniently snow-free this year. The conditions were simply better.

I was still nervous about the river, but in the last few miles leading up to the river, I just couldn't stand the thought of having to turn back. Liz, the other gal in our group, also short like me, was feeling the same nerves that I was. We avoided the bears safely and as soon as the vastness of the river came into view about a 1/2 mile from the crossing point, we both became silent with a mix of fear and nervous anticipation. 13 miles had passed with relative ease. The pass itself was clear of snow and the descent into the valley went quickly. The river, nearly 150 yards wide with fast rushing glacial silt gray water, and a chilly temp hovering at or slightly above freezing made me very nervous. When we finally arrived at the crossing, I watched at least 4 other hikers cross, taking note of their route and how high the water was on their bodies. In my own moment of wanting to save face in front of Liz, some 10 years younger, I grabbed Chris's arm and slogged into the water, asking that he help me across. I yelped like a puppy dog when the water rose to mid-thigh. It was painful. Supremely painful. Hands down, the coldest water I have EVER set foot in.

Chris of course, obliged my request (demand is probably more like it) to help me get across, but then commented that I "ditched him" a little more than half way across because we were moving too slowly and the water was becoming overwhelmingly cold and causing my knees to buckle from loss of feeling. I don't specifically recall, but he said I dropped his hand, grabbed my ski pole and made a break for the island in the middle of the river. My legs from just below my privies on down were completely numb. I had NO feeling whatsoever. Both of my legs could have been amputated using a rusty hack saw and I would have been blissfully unaware. I reminded myself that not 15 minutes up river, the rushing water was actually frozen, part of a dying glacier and would re-freeze solidly during winter.

Upon reaching the middle island of the river, legs and feet acting more like concrete blocks than useful limbs, I hopped around on the sun warmed rocks, jumping around like a pogo stick, cursing really loud in an effort to regain feeling before crossing the rest of the river. Note: Somehow, loud cursing when experiencing hypothermia in the middle of nowhere gets the blood flowing faster. The second half of the river, still icy, but slower flowing, was much easier to cross. Perhaps because we were still partially numb, perhaps because it wasn't as frightening after getting through the first half, but it just seemed warmer even though that wasn't possible.

After all five of us made it safely across, we paused to warm up, eat lunch and take stock of the rest of the day. We still had 13 miles left, but it was all down hill. Truthfully, the icy water cooled the aches and pains from the first 13 miles and put a real spring in everyone's step. The injury tally by the end of the 26 mile traverse was minor at best. Liz got it the worst with severe blisters on her feet that rendered it impossible for her to wear traditional heals to work for a full week after. Chris also had severe blistering, but after a day of rest and serious foot care at home, he was fine. Tyndall, Liz's boyfriend, and Mike, our co-worker, seemed to fair very well with only minor blisters and few aches. I came away seemingly unscathed. No blisters, no serious muscle pain and only moderate (but expected) joint pain. Crow Pass was kind enough to let us through this year and I can now scratch it off of my list of things to do while in Alaska. While we scratched this task off the list, we still had one other large task to complete the following week.

The Fireweed 400 bicycle race from Sheep Mountain, Alaska to Valdez, via the Glenn Highway and the infamous Thompson Pass, was our big summer event. I started training in earnest at the beginning of May shortly after I signed up for it. Chris has been training much longer. I opted to sign up for the "non-competitive" 50 mile, fat tire (mountain bike) division. Chris signed up for the 200 mile solo, also on his mountain bike (read completely nuts).

Chris and I trained regularly with long 50 to 120 mile rides to the near by towns of Indian, Girdwood, Hope, Talkeetna and Big Lake, Alaska. By the time the last night before the race rolled around, I felt pretty well prepared and I knew I would at least finish. Chris suffered a knee injury early on in his training and we were both nervous that this would pose serious issues for his ride since the injury was preventing him from standing up at all. Standing up while hill climbing is sometimes necessary and we were worried that the knee would just not cooperate. In fine fashion, I set a personal record for time, finishing in 3.5 hours (officially 3:46 due to a stop I forgot about to help another rider who was ill-prepared), even ahead of a few roadies. Chris finished in rare form, 13.5 hours including stops, ahead of a number of roadies as well. The race officials and aid station workers jokingly referred to him as the "nut on the fat tire". All in all, the race itself went swimmingly well, with one major exception.

At mile 20 of the race course, shortly after my start, a 64 year rider went over his handle bars at the end of a long, steep descent from Eureka Summit, tumbling under the guard rail at a speculated speed of around 45+ miles per hour. The force sent him down the side of the mountain and resulted in a very serious head injury which ultimately led to his death five hours later in Anchorage. Race officials and state troopers were unable to determine exactly what caused the accident. When I rode up on the scene, no one was concerned that the man was on his death bed. They thought he would be fine, but obviously, he was not. As for his family, friends and fellow riders, I can only imagine how sad they must all be.

Back in our happy worlds of great rides and friendly weather, we made it to Valdez by 8:30 pm and were sadly disappointed to learn that the race officials had under-planned for food and ran out of the promised end-of-race pasta and drinks. Nearly crushed, we found a pizza place/bar and ordered enough food to feed a small army, but we both seriously doubted if it would be enough. I estimated that Chris burned around 10,000 or more calories and there would not be enough food in all of Valdez to replenish. A giant calzone, poppers, foot long Philly sandwich, green salad with ranch dressing, washed down with water and beer seemed to do the trick nicely, though he still (three days later) feels compelled to eat everything in sight. Sunday morning after a rest and a shower, we boarded the fast ferry from Valdez to Whittier and enjoyed the incredible views of Prince William Sound along the way.

In between all of our training and summer adventures, Chris's mother, father and their friends Tom and Betty from Florida paid us a single day visit while they were vacationing. For the first time, I managed to get Larry into the plane and took him and Linda on a glacier flight seeing trip through the Chugach mountains over the Knik and Matanuska glaciers. The air was calm and still and the views were spectacular as usual. The weather allowed me to fly further back and up into the glacier canyon than I had ever been able to do before. I'm still not sure who enjoyed it more, me or my passengers. After the flight we drove to Seward where we ate tons of food and drank copious amounts of wine and other spirits. Chris and I were obviously novices by comparison to the seasoned style of his folks and Tom and Betty. We had a great time, enjoyed great food and we were sad to see them go.

Just a few days after they left, the plane that I usually fly and the one that I have taken ALL of my family members in had a "gear problem" coming in for landing at Merrill Field. The result was a belly landing on the grass adjacent to the runway. The ground crew wet the grassy field while the student and the instructor flew around above the airport to burn off fuel. Although I am still saddened by the sight of the wounded Cardinal kicking up dust on it's belly, like some drunken grass hopper, it was a picture perfect landing performed by the student pilot, with no one injured. The damage to the plane was minor and my beloved Cardinal will be up and flying soon. The student and the instructor both deserve huge props for making a safe landing. I'm pretty sure this student will pass the practical exam with ease after this real-life emergency landing.

Our plans for the summer have not slowed. This coming weekend, we are planning on hiking Johnson's Pass with the dogs. It's a 22 mile traverse roughly 100 miles south of Anchorage on the way to Seward. I'm keeping my fingers crossed that the grizzly history of the trail's namesake will stay in the history books and allow us safe passage. The camera and bear spray will be joining us on this hike as well. We are also looking forward to seeing our Boise friends Dean, Karen and their daughter in a couple of weeks. Chris is actively planning ways to torture Dean on extended mountain bike rides and I am looking forward to some down time and flight seeing with Karen and Genevieve (pardon the spelling). In September, my half sister Maria will be here for a single day visit and that same evening, Chris and I will fly out to San Francisco for my step-brother Kevin's wedding. Extended plans are tentatively set for spending Thanksgiving in Albuquerque and Christmas in Tampa, where I'm sure we'll absorb some much needed heat and sunshine!

Pictures of the race are up and visible. Crow Pass pics are coming soon. Just click on the link on the upper right side of the screen. Until next time....

Vered
(and Zev, too)