Life Will Break Through

Conrad Glacier--we didn't hike on this glacier,  but hiked to its terminus at the lake. For perspective, note the little tiny people on the right near the bottom of the photo.  Gives you an idea of the  immensity of the mountains and glaciers.

When I started hiking, being in the mountains, looking down to buildings dwarfed by the distance, the panoramic vistas, the staggering beauty that formed over billions of years, repeatedly stole my breath.  

That doesn't change, but now that I've become a bit accustomed to these phenomena, I begin to be more aware of life breaking through the rocky, inhospitable terrain.  (Emphasis on 'bit accustomed'--the immensity and beauty will always take my breath away.)

It's stunning to me is how life will form where we might least expect it. Just to my left in the photo below, you can see flowers  growing out of rock.

In the photos below,  our guide placed his foot by the flowers to provide some perspective.  He told me the campion moss in this photo took about twenty-five to fifty years to grow near the glacier, in the shale and rocks.  It's a long time for a little bit of plant, but there it is... 

25-50 years of campion moss

A close up of 50 years of moss:

Even when we leave the glaciers and are in greener spaces, I'm taken by the beauty and wonder of life emerging.  

Fireweed and Queen Anne's Lace

What I learn about mountains, about glaciers slowly sculpting the earth, about plant life struggling to make its way here....that always puts things in perspective for me.   

Those tiny flowers took 50 years to grow.  Those mountains are many millions of years old.  What was it I was worried about? I forget.

Nothing like nature to help keep things in perspective. 

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For more information on helihiking trips like this one, visit, 

http://www.canadianmountainholidays.com

Full Helicopter to a Glacier Hike

On the day we're going to hike on a glacier,  eleven hikers and the guide board the helicopter together. There are a few things I may not have already mentioned about helicopters.

This souvenir helicopter model was nice and quiet and didn't take us anywhere, but my friend Janet was fortunate to have gone heli-hiking when she could get this really cool souvenir. 

Before boarding and immediately on exiting, the safe thing to do is   the heli-huddle that I've described in previous posts.  The huddle can help prevent decapitation, and also is an excellent way to be sure that your belongings don't get blown into another time zone.  One day I forget to clutch the camera hanging around my neck and it blows to the side nearly strangling me. 

    

 Heli-Huddle revisited      
      

For safety, we enter and exit from a single door on the pilot side (so he can see us) even though there are doors on each side.  On the ground, we  huddle until the helicopter is gone... really gone, not just starting to go.

  

      our pilot, Jens

                                         our guide, Jim
Behind the guide and pilot are two long rows of seats facing each other in the main cabin. One row can see where we're going.  The other row sees the faces of people watching where we're going.  We count on happy expressions for reassurance.  

There are also two 'jump seats' that each hold two people--these are behind the main 'cabin' and they have a (great) view out the side of the copter.  We almost always reserve the jump seat on the pilot side for our knapsacks (the side we use to enter and exit). The other jump seat is occupied only when the helicopter is full, and that is rare, as our group often splits with some going to one trailhead, some to another.

Jump seat passengers have a great view; they also have a separate entrance.  And it seems the jump-seat door has to be opened from the outside to allow egress. Or maybe you just have to know how to open it....?

So a quick review: jump-seat occupants have the ideal perspective of these amazing mountains, and are isolated in a noisy helicopter where no one can hear them or see them.  

On the day we head for the glacier, the helicopter is full to capacity, with two people in the jump seat.   We arrive, slip out, and huddle.  The helicopter leaves.  We stand up, guide Jim counts nine brave souls on a windswept glacier.  Jim looks a little puzzled, since there should be eleven of us.... and as he mentions that we've lost a few people,  we see the helicopter circling back.  

helicopter returning 

He opens the jump seat door and two would-be hikers leap to the ground, shouting over the propeller din  "We wondered what we did wrong....?" Fortunately, they're laughing

Later that day, Jens, the pilot said  "I thought the helicopter was a little heavy on one side...."

(Just for the record, that was the only time there was any confusion.  We were on and off that helicopter about twenty-five times in a week, and we watched Jens land on a dime as if it were a football field.  By the end of the week, it was simply another way to get from here to there.)

Now for that glacier.  We hike Canoe Glacier (see below).
The weight of the ice that forms over thousands of years creates pressure that makes the bottom, on the rock surface, grind downward on the mountain.  The ice picks up rocks and debris so it's got a rough surface as you can see.  And it doesn't move in one mass.  The bottom part of the glacier often moves more slowly than the top.  The ground it's traversing is not even.  That leads to cracks that can become crevasses.  The one in the photo below is deep enough --at least 25 feet-- for me to keep my cowardly distance when I photograph it.  

Canoe Glacier Crevasse

One of the other things you can see in the photo above is the unique glacial blue (near the lower left corner and a few other spots.  The weight of the ice forces air out, making the ice denser than you would see elsewhere.   Glacial ice absorbs red and reflects that beautiful glacial blue.

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Next: more glaciers and the amazing persistence of life.

A reminder-- the helihiking trips I took were with Canadian Mountain Holidays ( http://www.canadianmountainholidays.com).  I write my blog posts based on notes taken during the trip, and this trip was some years ago.  Things may have changed but CMH  still offers these amazing experiences.

Mosquito Woman

When some of us are taking the game trail through the woods, other groups take different hikes.  The views are always electrifying.

My friend Linda took both of the Purcell Range photos below from her hike while I was out on the mosquito trail... er... game trail.

And while she was taking those, I was dealing with a common  Dawny problem.
One mosquito, two mosquito, three mosquito, four... is Dawny nearby?

I have witnesses (you know who you are) who can testify that mosquitoes love me.   Some even say I do a Mosquito Dance.  I hop around.  I smack myself.  I speak in a high-pitched squeaky voice.  (I will dispute all but the part where I smack myself;  I’m really smacking mosquitoes but it looks the same to you.)

Before leaving for the morning hike, I liberally apply insect repellent to all my exposed skin and even most of my outer clothing.

As we take the game trail through the dense woods, our guide explains that our exhaled carbon dioxide is what attracts mosquitoes. "...but they stay --and bite-- because of heat."

The heat?  I finally understand why mosquitoes bite me more than other people. I've mentioned this before--I tend to be a little warmer than the people around me.  But I never knew it was why mosquitoes love me.  With my repellent, however, they hover, but they don't bite.  Hah!

I am feeling pretty smug about foiling the little blood-sucking vermin even though they head right for my CO2-laden aura.

What I do not know is that mosquitoes have found the main source of heat in our group and are just biding their time --on my hat.

We make it out of the woods and above the tree line, and once again I am overwhelmed with the view.  So overwhelmed, I don't notice when my friend Carol walks over to me until she whacks me on the head. Twice. 

 Carol the Mosquito Swatter

I become aware of a dark swarm rising and spreading over my head.  

“Your hat is covered with mosquitoes!” Carol exclaims.  

They came for the carbon dioxide.  They found the heat.  

After that, I sprayed *everything*...and put an extra dose on my hat.

(and Carol The Mosquito Swatter became a lifelong friend.)

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Some Mountain Critters and Bear Advice

Life is plentiful here--big horned sheep, mountain goats, moose, elk, lots of ground squirrels (which bears feast on just before hibernating), and bears.  Black bears. Brown bears.  Grizzly bears. Big, hairy bears. 

   This Mountain Goat caught sight of me before I could get a good photo

At some point in the summer, bears get an internal signal that tells them to eat more fat to prepare for hibernation.  Ground squirrels are a good source of fat, and bears dig wildly to get at them.  Dirt and boulders pose no impediment to a fat-frenzied bear. 

That hole in the ground, according to our guide, was created by a hungry bear digging to get at a ground squirrel or marmot like the ones pictured below.  Imagine a 400+ pound bear with three-inch claws moving soil out of her way to get to dinner...that hole is what's left.

 Ground squirrel (looks a little like a chipmunk, but it is a ground squirrel).

Ground squirrels and their cousins, the marmots, are very common here. Marmots are also related to prairie dogs and have similar behaviors.  Yellow-bellied marmots communicate with each other by chattering or whistling and with body language, much like their prairie dog cousins. The marmot will alert others about predators, or make noise to try to frighten the threat away.

Marmot watchman

This marmot isn't happy to see us.  I'm not sure if the ‘sentinel’ is warning others or trying to scare me. I ain't scared o' no marmot.

But that hole that a bear dug to get at one puny ground squirrel, and the bear claw marks I've see on some trees ...

Bear Claw Marks 

I am scared of bears.  I kind of I regret that I don't have more exciting wildlife pictures, but the truth is that a good wildlife photographer isn't marching through the woods, talking and making noise.  That's what keeps the animals away.  The good photographer sits quietly in one place, camera ready, waiting.  From what I remember in polar bear country,  the wildlife photographer is accompanied by someone with a powerful tranquilizer gun in case the subject gets hostile or feisty.  

Nope, that isn't me.  So I am simultaneously pleased and sorry to tell you that I didn't get any good bear photos. 

One evening sitting around the lodge, I hear a story that I've since found every hiker knows, but it was new to me, a fairly novice hiker at the time.  

As two guys are setting off for a hike, one is lacing up running shoes, and the other asks "Why are you putting on running shoes?" 

"In case we meet a bear," replies the runner.

"You can't outrun a bear," laughs the first guy.

 "Noooo, but I can outrun you....."

So the slower hiker may be 'bait' (and all that time I thought they were calling me  'Babe")

This is a quick but important recap of 'bear safety' advice: 

 - stay with the group;
 - make noise --(bears don't like to be startled; they hear you, they leave);

- don't mess with cubs---'awww look how cute' can bring Mama bear running. And nothing will stop her from protecting her cubs.

I know I’ve mentioned this before but it bears repeating (couldn’t resist)  If you *do* confront a bear,   pull yourself up to your full height, raise your arms over your head to look taller, lower your eyes, and make noise.  (Those of you who know how tall I am can stop laughing now.)

I want to see bears... I wanted to see them through my zoom lens, outside the lodge, while I am safely inside.  All I have is these stories.  I sort of want to keep it that way.

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Hiking-- Not *Exactly* the Same as Walking

There are occasions I am so far behind my group,  I wonder if only the echo of my voice could reach my fellow hikers. (I blame my need to take pictures, yeah, that's it… the pictures). 

As I huff and puff to keep up, I not only marvel at those who never seem to exert any energy, I actually get a little annoyed. The nerve of them to just drift along while I am gasping for air.  It doesn't help me that there are some slopes so steep-looking that I clutch my poles as if they make the difference between life and death.

Apparently I have a hiking learning disability, and this qualifies me for a little extra support.  Actually I notice the guides consistently offer information, suggestions, and energy saving advice-- novice hikers like me benefit from these things that others may take for granted.  And I learn a few things that surprise me. 

Going up the tree-lined slope, Thierry demonstrates the "ape walk"  (ok, maybe he doesn't call it that....) Knees slightly bent, legs slightly apart so your torso is a little lower to the ground; shift weight from leg to leg as you walk.  Apes do this on hills because it saves energy, improves stability, and can increase speed.

I notice after a few days that our guides rarely take their hands out of their pockets.  They do not feverishly pump their arms...they stroll, nonchalantly, with hands in pockets. This is so the opposite of the arm-pumping, aerobic walking I see at home... because here we've got mountains to climb.  

We often walk on paths  created by animals who know what they're doing as the traverse the mountains.  They've worn paths--game trails--that make for more secure footing than crossing previously untrod areas.

hiking along a game trail

I also learn about the 'rest step' --something that works well when you're not using the ape-walk. (Our guide really did call it 'rest-step'.  Really)  Now how different can something be from aerobic walking? In the rest step, you take a little nap between steps. The 'rest step' allows a split second of rest between each foot-fall.  Put your foot flat, and  straighten your leg, resting all your weight there briefly while the other leg is poised for step 2. 

Hiking across broken shale.

I have decided I love the rest step.  I especially like the little snooze I get to take, where I dream of being a better hiker.   

This learning takes place throughout the week.  

Save energy.  Hands in my pockets when I’m not using  poles.  Take small steps, don't look for big gains, and save energy.  Put foot flat, keep ankle stable, and save energy.  By the end of the week I am beginning to get the idea. 

Back to that first hike, I'm following Thierry on a cold, rainy hike through the woods.  I’m hiking in the wild and want to enjoy the view, the forest, the mountains... that’s the opposite of my city-walking.

This is Thierry about to cross over a fallen tree by simply stepping over it.  I, on the other hand, had to sit on the tree and swing my legs over....ah the joys of being short. 

Every once in a while Thierry encouragingly says "Feefty feet more", or “a leetle beet more'” or “we are almost zere”.  He keeps saying it the entire time we’re ascending through the woods. 

I fall behind a little. Then a little more.  When I finally break through the woods, I’m the last one to cross from the tree line to the rocky peak. 

Thierry approaches me holding a metal cylinder in one hand and saying  "Dawneee, I hev sumsing for yuu."

I look at the cylinder and gasp.... "Oxygen ????"

"I hev tea wis honey and limon".

Ok, it was a great second choice. 

 View of the Purcell Range  

As I catch my breath and sip my tea, I take in the view...the astoundingly beautiful view.  We’re above the tree line, looking across the Purcell mountains and down at a green world from our rocky peak.  We have gained about 500 feet in this hike (that's about 200 feet higher than the highest hill near me) and the view is stunning.  As I look at the horizon, everything else fades.  As usual, the wonder and power of nature overwhelm me.  

In my notes, I refer to this picture as 'Day Two's view of Day One's Hike'.

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