Bitter Berry Delight

Lingonberries!  

It’s cranberry picking time in the interior.  Fortunately, we don’t have to travel far to pick our fill.   Around our property are plentiful patches of lingonberry, known as “low bush cranberries.”   I risked my life in 70 mph gusts one morning this week picking the berries. I nervously eyed the trees swinging violently above my head and thought to myself how silly it would be to die while picking such a bitter berry.  If they were sweet, juicy strawberries or raspberries, it may have been worth the risk, but lingonberries are the natural version of sour patch kids (only lacking the sugar coating on top).   So, after 30 minutes of sheer berry picking terror I retreated to the cabin to listen to the wind howl, considering myself lucky to escape in one piece. 

Sandhill cranes still continue to fly past our house, heading south

Thankfully, this weekend the winds were only blowing a mere 30 mph, quite a reprieve!  Ben and I happily picked on Saturday and Sunday until we had nearly a gallon of berries to store away for the winter.  It should be noted that my attempts during the week, in which I risked my life for a bitter fruit, did at least aid my harvesting skills.  I could pick at least 1/3 more berries than Ben during the same amount of time due to my hours of additional lingonberry experience.   Maybe picking berries in windstorms, while worrying for your own safety, enables one to adopt a superpower of lightening quick and nimble fingers.   Either way, it was a successful weekend venture.  Ma and Pa Clark will be sure to enjoy the fruits of our labor in our homemade cranberry sauce for Thanksgiving!  

"Sitka Surprise"

The runners are off at the start of the Equinox Trail Marathon

This past weekend was our favorite weekend in the interior so far.  Although Denali was the most scenic, vibrant-colored place we had ever seen and our trip to Wrangell-St. Elias provided astonishing views from our alpine hike, neither was any match for the beauty of friendship.   Our wet, soggy friends from the Southeast were in town this weekend to visit us and complete the Equinox Trail Marathon in Fairbanks.   Between the Routon’s and Sam Scotchmer’s performance in the marathon, I am fairly confident that Sitka may now be regarded as the Running Mecca of Alaska.  

Sam at mile 8

Emily at mile 8, already in the lead

For anyone not familiar with the race, it is ranked as the fourth hardest marathon in the nation due to the rugged trail terrain, elevation gain and losses, and unpredictability of the weather.  It is also a stunningly beautiful run through the fall colors of Fairbanks, offering vistas of the valley floor after climbing to the top of Ester Dome and beyond.  Despite the difficulty of this course, Emily and Sam had times fast enough that would qualify them for the Boston Marathon if it were a qualifier course!  Sam ended up finishing 5^th overall with Aaron not far behind, coming in 8^th. 

Out of a field of 700 talented and tough Alaskan trail runners, this was quite the showing for Sitka.  But to really put Sitka on the running map, Emily surprised the talented field by winning the marathon in the women’s division.  As the Fairbanks Daily News Miner titled their article the next day, “Sitka Surprise” it was mentioned that not too often does an “unknown” runner take home the trophy! 

E. Clark Keeping A. Routon going with Gu handouts at the half-way mark

Emily, on the home stretch to snatch the women's marathon title

Pete about to pass off the baton to Ben

 Ben, Pete, and Nellie also competed in the marathon as relay runners.  All three ran their legs exceptionally well.  Ben ran the slightly downhill segment of the marathon in blazing speed.  Nellie’s team even ended up getting first place in the women’s relay division. Between all of my friends doing so well in the race, I was beaming with pride and feeling pretty lucky that I was associated with these now-celebrity runners!

Nellie, obviously not running  hard enough with that smile!

Despite the “Sitka Surprise” title of the newspaper article, Ben and I knew from the beginning that if hydration was the key to winning a marathon, then the Routons were going to do well.  The night before the race, while crashing at NellieLand (greatest accommodations of Fairbanks, aka Nellie’s house), the Routons were given the “princess room” on the second floor of the cabin.   To save on space, the stairs going to the second floor are nearly vertical, more akin to climbing a giant stepladder than stairs.  Ben, Sam, and I took the downstairs floor amid memory foam and sleeping pads piled on top of each other.  NellieLand takes their guest’s comfort seriously.   About 45 minutes after bedtime, we heard Aaron slowly making his way back down the ladder to go to the bathroom.  Shortly after Aaron made it back to the princess room, Emily followed suit down the ladder to the restroom.  And then another hour later, the process was repeated again.  After the second trip in two hours, I thought about how we really should have switched sleeping locations, because the sound of them crawling down the steep, precarious, mountain stairs while droggy scared me to death.  This became a much more frequent thought than I ever could have imagined as the Routons made their pilgrimages to the bathroom.  Between the two of them, 12 trips to the bathroom were made during the night.  Although, their hydration wasn’t cited as the key to their running success, this midnight observer is confident that this was the true secret to their victories.

Ben cruising to the finish

A trip to Delta Junction was made the next day to acquaint Em, Aaron, and Sam with our new home.  The Delta wind greeted the visitors with winds up to 75 mph.  A trip to Donnelly Dome was cut short as no one could stay out of the car for more than 5-10 seconds due to the power of the wind mixed with raindrops, resulting in a sensation similar to a hundred rubber bands snapping against your skin.  Instead, we took them for a short walk on the trails around our cabin, all of them creeping gingerly on their sore legs.   It was as if the race had made them gain 50 years in age.  Our neighbor literally thought Aaron was an elderly man after watching him walk down our driveway.  Through the grunts and cries of aching muscles and joints, the group made it to our private lake on the property as well as the infamous “Meatball House.”  

Four extremely tired runners and one happy bystander

Thankfully, the Routons and Sam saw the fall colors in delta on Sunday, because after the windstorm, we were left with barren trees, devoid of any leaves.  Our guests came in Fall, and after a mere 24 hour stay, left in Winter!  We were sad to say goodbye on Monday, but know that the laughter, smiles, and memories of their trip will help us get through the long winter ahead! 

Confidential to the Routons and Sam:  We hope the cheese tragedy of 2012 does not prevent further trips from occurring

Confidential to Nellie and Pete:  We hope the oatmeal incident of 2012 does not prevent us from visiting you in the future

Wrangell-St. Elias

Last weekend we made a trip to Wrangell-St. Elias National Park.  Ben is currently writing the story of our trip, which should debut on the blog in the near future.  But, because Ben is working anywhere from 12-16 hours a day, it may take a little bit of time!  As such, we'll skip forward to the current weekend news for now....

Moose Hour

A few evenings ago, Ben and I left the house in search of a sunset (which, by the way, is happening earlier and earlier these days).  We figured traveling a couple of miles to the nearby farm lands would give us vast open space to see a colorful sky.  The sunset ended up being mediocre, but the entertainment was great.  Instead of watching the sky, we watched a moose wander through the fields, eating her fill of the delectables growing in the farmer's front yard.  When we had our fill of watching the moose graze, we headed back home, only to arrive to a mama moose and her calf grazing in OUR front yard!  Thankfully, the mom and baby ran off into the woods upon our return, allowing us to get out of the car and go inside safely without worrying about getting charged by an aggressive mama moose!  Currently, 8:00 PM is known as "moose hour."

The moose in our neighbor's yard

The Commute to Fred Meyers

 A bull moose seen at Denali

We are settling quickly into Interior life, learning the norms of living further north.  Instead of giant Sitka Spruce, Hemlock, and Yellow Cedar, our views are filled with Birch, Aspen, Black Spruce, and White Spruce.  Our ocean has been replaced with the Tanana, a meandering braided river.  The bears still roam free here, just as they do in Southeast, but seem to be hungrier and therefore gutsier than their coastal counterparts.   In addition to scanning for bear sign when we enter the wilderness (aka step outside our front door) our eyes and ears also are on the watch for moose.  

             

One of the highlights of our move north is being transplanted to a landscape with deciduous trees that display true fall colors.   In the past week, fall has quickly overtaken summer, bringing about frost in the morning, snow on the foothills, and the greatest change of them all---an array of reds, oranges, and golden yellows that paint the countryside.   

With the transformation of the trees, comes the loud squawking of geese, cranes, and swans, all leaving their summer habitat for warmer wintering grounds.  I was stirred out of my cabin today by a flock of hundreds of Sandhill Cranes, gathering in the sky, busily partaking in their journey South.  

Hundreds of Sandhill Cranes above our cabin

A large part of me is envious of these bird’s keen insight to leave now before the cold strikes, but a small part of me is curious and captivated by the thought of experiencing -50 degree weather.  As I look at the temperature today, and realize that it will decrease by 100 degrees in the winter, I am both utterly amazed and horrified.  

           

 Although we live on the road system in Alaska, groceries are just as expensive in Delta as in Sitka.  As such, we have joined the ranks of deltoids (residents of Delta Junction) who commute to Fairbanks (known as going to “town”) to take advantage of the slightly cheaper goods at Fred Meyers. 

           

This weekend, in our journey to Fred Meyers, we decided to take the long way.  Instead of driving north on the Richardson Highway 100 miles to Fairbanks, as is typically done, we opted to go south, thus taking the scenic route.  This road trip took us to Paxson, where we veered west onto the long, but BEAUTIFUL, 130-mile gravel Denali Highway. 

A lone spruce in the rainbow taiga off the Denali Hwy

Views like this were constant along the Denali Hwy

Tundra Swan off the highway

Apparently the other visitors to the
park didn't drive the Denali Hwy to get there like us....

The fall colors were out in abundance, as were hunters on ATVs, as September 1st marked opening day of big game hunting season.   We felt oddly out of place on the Denali Highway.  There seemed to be only two types of people on the road; RVs and Hunters.  ATVs flew by us with people dressed in camo, sporting rifles, scanning the horizon for any sign of life.  Judging by the sheer number of hunters, we realized that today would not be a likely day to see any wildlife along the road, which proved to be true.  We camped right at the end of the highway, 10 miles from Cantwell. The next morning as we finished writing our grocery list in the car, we decided to make a pit stop in Denali National Park because, hey, when it’s on the way to Fred Meyers, you just have to stop.

           

Ben coming down from Mt. Healy

 In Denali, we took in the park’s vistas by doing a quick jaunt up Mt. Healy to stretch our legs.

  Upon arrival back to the valley floor, we took the bus into the park to witness the variety and stunning expanse of the park. Although Denali is always an amazing place to visit, during the fall, we are convinced it is the most beautiful place in the entire world.  The land is literally rainbow colored, glowing so brightly it looks entirely like a page from Dr. Seuss’s colorful books.  The colors and life amidst the tundra, taiga, and trees captivated our eyes the entire 8 hours we were on the shuttle bus.  We camped for the night in the park at Sanctuary Campground, which thankfully stayed true to its name and provided a somewhat decent shelter from the 60-70 mph wind gusts during the evening.   

Polychrome Pass

            

Denali, coming out of the clouds in all of its glory

           The next day, we took a morning stroll on the quiet highway before the long string of buses infiltrated the park for the day. After getting picked up by a camper bus on the road, we watched in amazement out the bus window, drinking up the vibrant colors and expansive landscape of wilderness that we were departing. We couldn’t help but think this was the most gorgeous commute to Fred Meyers ever taken.  Arriving back at the park, we begrudgedly left Denali to finish our commute to Fairbanks via the Parks Highway.

Dr. Seuss Land

Climbing up a ridge during our morning walk

    

            

As we navigated through the drab, noisy aisles of Fred Meyer, surrounded by hordes of people busily completing their Labor Day shopping, we recalled the old saying that “life is about the journey, not the destination.” It couldn’t have been truer for this trip of a lifetime to Fred Meyers.