We have been gifted with heaps of sunshine the last three weeks, so much so there is a regular afternoon meeting of the Swim Club. We swim out to the big boat, climb up to roast on its metal top, and jump into the now-refreshing-rather-than-heart-stoppingly-cold water.
It was downright hot as Luke and I made our way back to what another friend has dubbed The South Side of Heaven. I had been strategically waiting out the worst of the mosquitoes and watching the weather, and we decided to go for it right after work at the end of the week. Up trail to tundra, across a not insignificant creek, back behind the first line of peaks that overlook the lake. We continued into a sort of circular valley, like a boggy tableland surrounded by ranks of mountains. I struggled both with the steep slope and the EIGHT TRILLION FLIES that accompanied us, who were ceaselessly curious about what it's like inside my ears and on my face. Thus rather distracted, I did however notice a bright yellow blob in the distance. We shouted, and that golden creature trotted off with her two cubs, more or less in the direction we also wanted to go. They were pretty far away and we gave them a good head start, and continued announcing our presence in several languages. And then -- was that the mama bear again? No, it was...loping, and bushy-tailed. Much bigger than a coyote. A wolf?!
We were sufficiently uninteresting and received no nighttime visitors (other than scads of insects). I do begrudgingly appreciate them for pollinating the dazzling array of wildflowers. The alpine lakes we made our way to were absolutely gorgeous, well worth the obstacles.
The sun continued to shine through during my visit to our sister lodge in the remote Kenai Fjords National Park -- a rare treat in temperate rainforest. Likewise, my good fortune sighting charismatic megafauna continued. Puffins! Seals! Otters! Sea lions! Humpbacks, humpbacks, HUMPBACKS: bubble feeding in groups; traversing the bay parallel to us kayaking; breaching and slapping fins on the surface! We joked with our coworker-guide, pretending to be dissatisfied guests: "No orcas? Can't you make it breach closer? Two out of five stars." We paddled along granite cliffs, coves and caves of starfish and anemones, climbed a waterfall, and watched Aialik Glacier calve massive chunks into the sea. I also commiserated with a cook friend there who gets just as moldy vegetables as me and flounders in the logistical supply spiderweb. We traded toothpicks for cocoa powder and wondered if either of us will receive peanuts by season's end.
Amidst all this, we celebrated Christmas in July, a secret Santa with handmade and/or stolen (within camp) presents. I finished a scarf I've been knitting and made fudge and wrote limericks for my person; I received a beautifully framed lacquered piece of birch bark and pressed fireweed, the purple-pink flower whose blooming signifies the beginning of the end of summer. It's the next wave of pink now that roses have finished, and ushers in August.
the beginning of The South Side of Heaven
Twin Lakes
gathered in front of the xmas tree
The sun now sets at a totally reasonable 10:30pm.
sunbathing(!) at Glacier Lodge
the ridge above Peterson Glacier
one of many joyous humpback interactions
our coordination with the company's 100-year plan
