A Life Outside: Postholing in June...

Our search for goshawks this past week took us to a mountain lake--and a protected bay--about 35 miles southeast of Juneau. The lake is about 5 miles long and is approximately 550' above sea level. To get to the lake we hopped on a deHavilland Beaver--an omnipresent workhorse in Alaska--and took a 30 minute flight out of Juneau.

Once on the lake we were greeted by our camp personnel (a.k.a. bear guards), off loaded gear onto a skiff, and took a short ride to our camp. The camp consisted of a kitchen area, a wall tent, and a dome made up of a series of plastic discs set on a raised platform. The dome was our sleeping quarters--quite plush considering where we were. The entire camp was surrounded by an electric fence to deter any curious bears. Once we got settled in our dome, we got right to work and started our surveys.

Kate and I realizing the GPS coordinates needed some adjusting...which hemisphere are we in?

Cathy being protected by Cameron, our very diligent bear guard/camp host.

On our way to the boulder field of death.

A few of our calling stations took us into an area that is strewn with boulders that ranged in size from a Mini Cooper to a double-decker bus. If it weren't for the snow the boulder field wouldn't have been an issue. Temperatures were warm enough that snow melt was pretty rapid; however, the snow around the boulders was rather deceiving and many times we would cross a snowy area not knowing how much support the receding snow could support. For the first time in my life I can honestly say, as each of my legs postholed to my upper thighs, I am glad my crotch ended any momentum.

Despite the difficulties with the boulder field, the views were fantastic.

Despite, or more likely, because of, the steep terrain surrounding a significant portion of the shoreline of the lake the scenery was quite breathtaking. We spent part of the surveys on foot and then switched to a canoe to reach some of the other calling points. Canoeing a remote lake has its perks.

Hard at work

After three days at the lake Cathy and I took a short plane ride down to the bay to continue with the surveys. We spent the next couple nights aboard a boat moored in the bay eating extremely well--meals included halibut and fresh crab prepared by a very generous host who also ferried us via a dinghy to the shore for our surveys. Within minutes of boarding the boat, the host pointed out a sow brown bear and her two cubs on shore--my first time seeing a wild brown bear.

The bay, to overstate the obvious, is at sea level. One thing I learned rather quickly this week is to really consider the distance between contours on a topographic map when planning a trip. Normally, back in Wisconsin, I am very content with 100' contours where slopes and gradients, as insignificant as they are, show up rather nicely. So, when I looked at the map of our calling stations and saw a "flat" area, I thought it would be easy work to make it to each of the points.

G1-G4 pretty much sucked...

As I am sure can be gathered, my skills at reading topographic maps needs some serious updating. Luckily for the two days that followed we were in the company of our bear guard who apparently moonlights as a mountain goat. Owen was born and raised in Juneau and has the type of intuition in the field that would make Magellan blush. I would give him a direction to our next point, throw in a distance, and he proved to me time and time again that the shortest distance between two points is not always a straight line--especially in SE Alaska. Even when we did get to a slope that even a rock would think twice about traversing, Owen would mentally map out a route that seemed impossible (and a radio call away from search and rescue joining us), step into the abyss--while keeping his thumbs tucked under his backpack strap and shotgun sling (for some reason, I kept picturing Johnny Appleseed as he made his way from town to town)--and casually, as if walking the paved streets of any southern Illinois town, saunter down the cliff (and I am not using the term cliff in exaggeration). Naturally we followed. Most of the time on our asses.