(An Attempt in) Hiking Mount Pilcher

Over Labor Day weekend, a student, an aide, and some fellow teachers and I hiked Mount Pilcher.

Or, more precisely, that was our intent. We almost made it to the foot of the mountain. That counts, right? We gave a gallant effort, but to no avail. We came across the only stop sign in Marshall as we started our hike, and it may have been a warning sign.

Marshall's one stop sign.

Time constraints prevented us from completing the intended hike, but, looking back, I think it was a blessing in disguise. Math Teacher and I walked through the same deep marsh as everyone else prior to trekking across a considerable patch of tundra, but we were the only ones who managed to completely soak our feet at this juncture. And, I might add, we did so within the first 10 minutes of the journey. Luckily, a student of mine came prepared with plastic bags to cover our feet, and the aide had us stuff our muck boots with grass to soak up excess water. It worked quite well!

Math Teacher tries to deal
with a soaking boot.

Seriously, who the hell did we think we were to attempt such a hike with absolutely zero prior training or hiking experience? This thought went through my head several times as I struggled across the tundra. As you may recall, walking on the spongy tundra is no piece of cake.

However, if cake had been waiting at the end, it might have made things slightly more bearable, even though I'm not particularly a cake fan. Unless it's Mom's 'Wacky Cake.' That's a different story.

My newly fashioned sock
made from a plastic bag,
cushioned by some grass.
You're envious, and it's OK.
If you look closely, you can
see my dripping sock dangling
off my backpack.

Anyway, each and every step was a challenge because my feet sank 5 inches minimum with each step. If that weren't enough, pushing out of each step to take the next was made more difficult due to the tendency of either foot to slide in any possible unpredictable direction--left, right, back, forward, down at a sharp angle, or any combination thereof. My poor pathetic knees and elastic ankles were not used to this kind of stress, and it truly was a wake-up call in terms of fitness! Imagine being on a never-ending stairclimber (which I loathe) without the luxury of assured footing. Plus, the longer you stand, the longer you sink, and the further you must climb out to take another step. That's tundra walking. Really, it's great fun! By the time we got through the half-mile of tundra, we needed a break on the flat road to catch our breath, hydrate, and have a snack.

Whoever said the tundra is barren is full of it.  Really, check it out:

We grabbed some berries during our tundra walking; the blueberries are perfectly ripe right now. Those other berries, salmonberries, are far over-ripe. I was not a fan. It tasted like a soggy saltine cracker, with the texture of dried out gelatin. Maybe I can catch them at a better time next year.

To the right is a shot of the tundra grasses. Like I said, pretty cool and very autumn-like, especially when it has only been described as "barren" my entire life. Maybe I'm being picky here, but when I hear barren I am able to conjure up only nothingness and dirt in my head. Anyone else with me on that one?







My student and the aide brought along their guns in case we ran into any bears. (Don't worry Mom, none were spotted.) These two ladies provided much-needed advice along the way, even forcing us to slow down so as not to tire ourselves and to stay together. We walked up the road toward the mountain, talking and stopping to take some practice shots at some geese flying overhead. Overall, it was a great time, and my student captured some pretty great pictures for me, some of which you see on here. Maybe now that we know a bit more of what we are in for, we can make another attempt before the snow flies. If not, there's always the spring!

This is the winding slough that I canoed a couple weeks ago,
taken on our way back down from the foot of the mountain
that we did not reach.

The girls. See, I'm tall here in AK. Who knew? L-R, we have
the Kindergarten, 1st-2nd, and 4th-5th teachers. 

We turned back early because of a planned potluck dinner for the teachers, principal, and counselor, which was to take place at my neighbor's house. Moose stew, salmon, she-fish, and rabbit were on the menu. I served myself a plate and went to return to my spot on the living room floor. Unfortunately, my legs decided that lowering myself was way too much to ask, and they completely gave out as my knees neared a 90 degree angle.  In that split second of falling while holding a plate of food, I realized that I had two choices: 1) go with my first instinct and break my fall with my hands, thus sacrificing my food, or 2) focus any energy left into balancing the plate and accept whatever sort of landing might ensue.

I chose choice number two.  As my friend Mary says, Grace is a nice lady, but I don't know her well.

It worked out, luckily, as I did not wish to wear out my welcome so early by dumping such pungent food all over the carpet. The trade-off was that I completely fell into the TV stand, stopping all conversation and threatening the already shady stability of the front door on said stand. Some people asked if I was OK; others laughed, including myself. Nothing broke, but wow did I feel like a fool - not that this was a new feeling for me. One of the girls who lives at the house burst out laughing, because she saw the whole show and knew exactly how tired I was. Later, when I went back for dessert, I wisely handed it off to someone prior to crawling back into my spot, and Social Studies Teacher asked if I was really OK or not. I realized I truly must look wretched and be moving in an even worse fashion, because he doesn't normally voice concern.

All said and done, it was an awesome day. I spent not one minute on lesson planning or the computer, and completely took advantage of the sunshine and fresh air. I hope there are more days like this to come, complete with snafus and all. I'm not sure how many adventures I will be having once the light decides to leave us, but I am told that Eskimo dancing, dinner parties, and open gyms will be on the list of events. Thanks for reading!