Eagle and Symphony Lakes

Steve writes:
The motley crew of our friend Steph, Ranger and Georgie (Ben's dogs), Eve, and I hiked about 12 miles to and from Eagle and Symphony Lakes.



















Ranger (left) is clearly camera shy, enraptured with Symphony. Georgie (right) has smelly breath.



Georgie, imitating Simba stands nobly on Tank Rock. Another sleeping picture of me. Great.

The water on this hike is significant. Eagle Lake (right) is glacier-fed, while Symphony (left) comes from snow melt. What makes this so monumental is the color of the water, only steps away from each other, is completely different.

Following the river from Eagle Lake, the water took an unusual turn this year. Normally, the slit settles to the bottom of the riverbed, but this year's odd weather changed the water to a milky turquoise.


















Finally before our weary, smelly conclusion, blueberries.

oh, and...

minutes feel like hours, years pass in the blink of an eye...

We've filled our time here with visits and travel and, true to the cliches, summer seems to have flown by in an instant. By the time we leave, we will have been here for virtually all of Southcentral Alaska's extremely short growing season. I described how quickly things grow in an earlier post, and the changing foliage has continued to provide us with a very concrete ruler with which to measure time's passage.

When we studied to lead our first hikes, we were primarily pointing out the early bloomers - chiming bells (pictured at right), wild geranium and prickly rose. They're each softly colored - pale blue, purple and pink, respectively - so the thickets were a pastel Monet. As those three began to fade, the showy neon pink fireweed began to dominate roadsides and pathsides and... everywhere else. Where fireweed isn't, cow parsnip is, but its clusters of white flowers have already begun to disappear have been gradually replaced by deep purple monkshood and larkspur, and by a range of intensely red berries. A few paler flowers - tall jacob's ladder and (my favorite) harebells - have also bloomed in the past month, but they're far less common than the deeper-hued late bloomers. Dark reds and purples, I've learned, are Alaska's version of the yellow and orange I grew up with: the first signs of Autumn.

The salmon haven't made it to our stream yet (they're late this year), but they're running in most of the near-by bodies of water. Which means that fishing season has begun. We've been told to watch for the lunch-hour fishers in downtown Anchorage, and I'm certain that most people here would rather talk about fishing than about Sarah Palin (thank goodness). Two staff members have brought just-caught-and-smoked fish to work to share, and our trail crew coordinator gave me 3 one-pound fillets that he caught on a trip this pask weekend. I've been thrilled to witness such on-going reliance on, and respect for, the land.

Steve's parents and my parents each came to visit for a week, and both trips were just brilliant -
thanks, Moms and Dads!

Earthquakes of Weeks Past

From Steve:

As Eve noted, Geology has been on our minds. As most of K-8 Washington State knows, Geology is the study of big things like volcanoes and earthquakes, small things like rocks and minerals, slow things like glaciers and erosion, and fast things floods and landslides. This summer seems to have been brought to us by pressure and friction, due to all of the earthquakes we have felt.

Recently Eve and I have been privvy to relevant and local Geology thanks to Alaska and Union College. Through their field course, they visit relevant geological sites as well as organizations who seek to communicate geologic activity to the public. For a more complete and fantastic description, check out their blog.

We visited the Alaska Volcano Observatory, which was closely monitoring Redoubt's activity. The precision and data analysis were unbelievable and the graduate students at work there inspiring. Visit this link, if only for the pictures. The public data access is pretty darn cool.

We also visited the NOAA Tsunami Warning Center, the single force established to protect all of North America. The center is monitored 24 hours a day, each day of the year. Behold the power of science, math, and technology . . .

Yes, the red phone goes to Batman.

All this came to pass weeks ago, but we were reminded of the experience because the man pictured above at the control center came into the nature center today. The most exciting part is that he asked me a question I could legitimately answer. Empowerment!

long time no post

We'd planned a "there have been four earthquakes this week!" follow-up to my last post, but somehow it never happened. Instead, a ton of other stuff happened. My parents arrived last Thursday and we made a whirlwind loop through Whittier, Cordova, Valdez, Chitina, McCarthy/Kennicott and, finally, back into the Mat-Su valley. My dad had taken 300 pictures by day two so, needless to say, there'll be a lenghty pictures-only post when he uploads all the photos.


View Larger Map
Google maps doesn't seem to know about the Cordova ("B") to Valdez ("C") ferry, so that portion of our route remains blank.

been there, done that, got the t-shirt.

I have this* stuck in my head a lot lately. For more, here's Steve...

*Just the first few seconds.

The view from Mt. Harp (left) and a moose on our Nature Center-to-cabin shortcut (below).


Above the clouds!