Bit by a Wolverine

This is usually where I would posts some action shots - but I discovered while dip netting last week that my camera was not exactly waterproof. Even as I slid it into the top pocket of my chest waders I considered stuffing it in a ziplock. But, no, I thought. It-will-be-just-fine. JUST -FINE. Thanks a lot Murphy. Anyhow, Scout took some pics and I'll post them when I get them. In the meantime - check out this artistic rendering of our trip: [turn the speed control on the left up to fast so it doesn't take so long!] sketch of the trip (update: photos added 8/16 - thx Scout!)

(pic looking down the other side of the peak)

Saturday Ally and Scout conned me and a few fellow unsuspecting saps (Salty and Tidy Whitey) into climbing Wolverine Peak. Wolverine sits innocently between Near Point and Flattop in the Chugach Range. Apparently we used up our Sun quota the day before on our ride up powerline pass, because our nearest star didn't show it's face all day. Here are a few pics from the Powerline trip:

Still, several sets of sunless Alaskan legs gave us ample reason to keep the shades on.

No shades required for our favorite brown pooch and her sun lovin best buddy!


Bear activity in these parts has been ridiculous. It seems like there's a new mauling every time you turn on the news. The approach to Wolverine is prime bear country, with crowding alders and rushing creeks. Salty came armed with bear spray, but our main defense was loud, mindless blabbering. I'm pretty sure there wasn't a pause in the conversation for the first 2 hours.

Then, the rain started.

And it didn't really stop, except to catch it's breath every now and then. Still, we forged on keeping tally of the moose we spotted across the valley - something like 6 in all.



I don't know how much one needs to eat on an 11 mile mountain hike, but I'm sure the 5000 calories or so we consumed on the ridge was plenty. We had a pile of food that would make a marine squad proud.


Then we were up and going again, dragging our cold, wet (but full) bodies up the steepest, rocky section. Jamie the pace dog did her best to make sure our rests stops weren't too long unless they involved more food.


By the time we reached the peak it was totally engulfed in clouds. Several of us were cold and shaking, taking just enough time at the top to snap a few obligatory victory pics and shove off back down the hill.






Then the snow came. Sideways.

And we thought we were cold and wet before. Ha! The wind was blowing hard out of the south, pounding us on one side with a snowcone like slurry that trickled down our collars, traveled the length of our arms and pooled in the soggy excuse for gloves. My left butt cheek was entirely numb, but perhaps that is too much information.

Alas, we made it down the mountain with our smiles intact. We stopped for another snack break, because you know, 7000 calories is better than 5000. We slogged our way through the muddy creek that our trail had evolved into, with only a few slip-and-slide acrobatics.


Back in the parking lot, the clouds parted, and the sun rewarded us with it's presence. Beer never tasted so good. There we sat on the tailgate, basking in it's warmth, grinning over our accomplishment, completely unaware that we would not be able to walk for the next two days. Good times.

Swine Suits

Last Sunday I was feeling good. After being beaten into miserable submission in our first 3 hockey games, we finally pulled out an unexpected win. I managed to escort two wayward pucks into the back of the net. It's been a dry year for me scoring wise, and it felt good. After the game I sat up in the bar, sipping Accelerade, fictionalizing the game with my teammates. I was exhausted, but my body felt fit and lean, toxins purged, lungs refreshed.

On the way home I decided to treat my new fit body to a trip to Sports Authority. I deserved a new swimming suit. I had worked hard and was starting to see the results. I wanted a suit with sleek lines, thin straps and dolphin like slipperiness. I plucked a few from the shelf. They looked fast. I smugly headed to the fitting room with more than the 3 items allowed.

The room was dimly lit by fluorescent lighting approximately 800 feet overhead. I stripped down and began pulling on the first suit. The sleek lines that caught my eye on the shelf twisted into grotesque curves which the designer could never have predicted. I peeled the offending item off with disgust and tried another. Skin squirted out here and there, accentuated by the shadows caused by the ridiculously high lighting. Slowly, I began to feel myself getting fatter by the minute. I wadded all the polyester into a messy ball and stomped out of the fitting room. I forced myself to hang each and every skinny suit back on the shelf with it's snickering cousins.

I headed for the racks of sweatpants. You know... the thick, grey kind we all used to have before sweating became so glamorous. I wanted the exact same pair of sweats pants Rocky Balboa wore as he flew up those steps. But what did I find? Flared, cutesy, mid-calf jobs they dared to call sweats. Come on. No one ever really sweats in those do they? I'm pretty sure they were explicitly designed for 19 year old pilates students to wear while ordering a fat-free mocha latte.

Anyhow, all I ended up buying was some Cliff Shot block energy gummies. Cause ya know... those are one size fits all.

Cough, Whine, Cough.

I've... cough cough ... come down with a bug. It's driving me cough, cough.
I spent way too much cough, cough on the damn couch.
I'm finally cough cough feeling better, except for this friggin cough.
Cough, goo, gunk, Cough.
Damn Cough.