Date: Sept. 15
Mileage: 25.7
September mileage: 360.6
My bike Pugsley turned one year old today. Although he was conceived sometime in July of last year, he wasn’t fully built up until Sept. 15, 2007. I asked him how he wanted to celebrate his birthday, and, predictably, he blurted out “Week in Hawaii!” I said my PFD check wasn’t
that big, and offered him the next best thing - North Douglas beach party!
Unfortunately, we arrived at the wetlands right around the high tide mark, so there wasn’t much beach left to ride. We skimmed the shoreline and bounced over some boulders. Late-morning fog hung low over the water, but across the channel I could see a small window in the clouds around Mount McGinnis, with an unmistakable new coat of termination dust near the peak. “Look, Pugsley, snow!” I said, but he just grumbled. “This is boring. I’m tired. I hate the beach.”
“Ok, then,” I said. “It’s your birthday. What do you want to do?”
“I wanna go tear up some trails,” he said. “You’re always taking that skinny brat on trail rides. I wanna go sometimes, too.”
“Don’t call your little sister a skinny brat,” I said. “Fine. There’s the Fish Creek trail over there. It’s just a mud bog with lots of big roots and stinky fish guts. Your sister hates that trail. It always turns into a hike-a-bike.”
Pugsley’s spokes lit up. “Fish guts?” he said. “Does that mean there’s bears there, too?”
“Probably lots of big scary bears,” I said.
His rear fender started to wag a little. “I wanna go there!”
“Ok,” I said. We followed the delta shoreline beneath the highway bridge and started climbing along the creek. Pugsley enthusiastically took on his role as trail crusher and we cleared a nice long line of roots and puddles before a log grabbed his pedal and threw me sideways. I swore quietly as I crawled out of the blueberry bushes and started guiding Pugsley back down the trail.
“What are you doing?” Pugsley protested, “I can handle this!”
“Sorry, Pugs,” I said, “it’s just a little too much for me. I never said it was your sister’s fault she and I always ended up hike-a-biking this trail.”
“Man, this sucks,” Pugsley said. “What a crappy birthday.”
“Sorry, Pugs. I know it was hard to be born in these inbetween times,” I said. “But you remember last winter, right?”
Puglsey sniffed. “Yeah.”
“Well,” I said, “winter’s coming back. In just a couple more months, the snow will start to fall, and it will be just you and me again. We’ll go play on new trails and have new adventures and we can even come back here to Fish Creek. If the hikers don’t stamp down a trail for us, we’ll stamp down our own trail. What do you say?”
Droplets of rain dripped off Pugsley's frame but his head tube seemed to brighten. “Cool!” he shouted. “But this year,
I’m driving.”
Sniff ... My baby’s all growed up.
I headed up to Gastineau Peak and Gold Ridge today. I did a little meandering and a little dawdling, and ended up burning nearly five hours of daylight on the mountain in the morning/afternoon. I have been consuming a lot of my free time lately in "long" outdoor activities and evenings with friends. I am really starting to feel the fatigue of never being at home, which is interesting, because I have been battling a raging wanderlust that also seems to be burning holes in my contentedness.
But it was a nice day on the Mount Roberts trail, with rolling clouds and flecks of sunlight. There were no cruise ships in port this morning, which meant the tram terminal was closed, which meant I didn't see another soul on the mountain until I passed two fellow "through" hikers (both solo) on the way down.
I did see a coyote, which shadowed me at a safe distance for quite a while. I'd stop and the coyote would stop, and we'd just stare at each other for a few seconds until finally, I got bored first and started walking again. And sure enough, the coyote walked along with me, although much higher up the ridge. It was interesting to see an animal so curious about a human in the area just above the tram. Mount Roberts has to be the most heavily human-populated trail in Juneau, at least in general. But not today - it was just me and the coyote, and a whole bunch of ptarmigans mottled with new white winter feathers. This picture is about as far as my little camera can zoom, so you may have to take my word that there's a coyote in there.
Requisite picture at the peak, just as the low-lying clouds were finally starting to clear up. I brought mittens and a hat today, which is good, because light snow flurries brushed the ridge for most of the morning.
It was a good way to spend the last "long" day of the year. Monday is the autumn equinox, and with it equal hours for both day and night across the globe. Then in the northern hemisphere, we begin to slip into darkness. And here in the far northern hemisphere, we slip into a lot of darkness. I don't consider that a bad thing, just different, a new way of seeing things, a new adventure. So by the grace of Gastineau Peak go I into autumn, into the first long night.
