I usually only answer the Lens-Artists Photo Challenge every other week, but Amy’s theme choice, Landscapes, was irresistible. I LOVE landscape photography!
Water is big in landscapes. Sometimes a landscape includes a bit of the sea…
Oregon Coast
Recently I’ve been spending my time on the central California Coast.
Garripata State Park
Reflections are always a big hit in landscape photography.
Talkeetna Mountains
I need vertical topography to charge my soul…
Fall in the Tetons
Alaska is all about big landscapes. My favorite seasons are summer
Denali National Park
and fall.
Denali Highway
And then there’s the desert. Talk about a diversity of landscapes! Whether it’s dunes…
Powerful magic indeed. Water – creator, destroyer. The most powerful force in our universe.
The awe-inspiring power of water
Water and time, joining forces, create the landscape we see before us.
Glacial ice carving mountains.
The Matanuska Glacier carves a course through the Chugach Mountains of Alaska.
Rivers cutting canyons…
Smith River, California
Waves sculpt rocks, eroding away miles and miles of coastline.
It’s thrilling to witness the power and fury of a Pacific storm.
Blessed rain.
Rainbows are the perfect union of water and light.
Water is beauty. Water is life – the key ingredient that unifies all life on Earth.
Water is life.
Without it, none of this would exist.
Desert reflections
Splash!
Wave Watching
There are still a few hours left to take advantage of free shipping and handling on wall art and fun stuff featuring my photography. Go here to learn more!
Ahhh yes, the sweet light…what a wonderful lens challenge Amy has set for us this week! There’s the magical light of early, early morning. I don’t get see that very often myself. I’m not an early morning riser. Too much of a night owl, I guess.
Jumbo Mine, Wrangell St. Elias National Park & Preserve
You shouldn’t discount rainy days. Some of the most magical light, and some of the most stunning images are made on those rainy days, when the light dances with the clouds.
Rainbow in the Wrangells
And of course, if not for rain, there wouldn’t be rainbows. Magical light is the very essence of rainbows.
Ajo Lily (Hesperocallis undulata)
Strong sunlight can be magical, too. I love backlight on flowers, for instance.
Sweet Light on the McCarthy Road
But my favorite magical light is early evening. I’ve done blogs about it before. In an Alaskan summer, that sweet light can linger a long time.
Bigleaf Maple
In most places though, it only lasts an hour or so before sunset.
Alpenglow on Skyline Arch
The best light of all is alpenglow, the reflection of the sun setting on the landscape that you see when you look east. Sometimes, especially in the mountains and the desert, it’s more impressive than the actual sunset.
Sunset near Bandon, Oregon
But not always.
(I had to make a decision a few years ago – buy a DSLR or build a house. I chose to build the house. But I never let go of the Art of Seeing. Photography feeds my soul, and I can’t give it up. So all these pictures were taken with a high-end point-and-shoot, a Panasonic Lumix DC-FZ80. One of these days I’ll get my hands on a “real” camera again, and the possibilities will be endless. For me, for now, though, it’s the vision, not the tool.)
McCarthy Creek is flooding. I may be stranded here at home for a while.
Earlier this spring I had the opposite problem. I couldn’t GET home. Early winter cold temperatures with no snow cover, coupled with a late spring, caused the ground to freeze hard & deep, leading to a humongous lake in the low spot on my road. It was so deep my neighbors called it Lake Michigan. Just to keep things interesting, there were seven new trees down on my foot trail, too.
The lake in my road
Even after the ground finally thawed and the lake drained, it was solstice before I could finally drive my ATV home. I had to wait for the road to dry and firm up so I wouldn’t turn it into a permanent bog. At least I was able to get the trees cleared so I could hike in.
Last spring access was difficult, too. A freak windstorm after days and days of heavy rain the previous fall had downed whole GROVES of aspens. Friends helped me clear my road after the storm, but I never got around to even looking at the foot trail.
One of the trees down on my trail
When I came in that spring, there was a lake in the road, although it was much smaller than this year’s and only lasted a couple of weeks. When I went to try my trail, the dozens of blown down trees were piled ten to fifteen feet high, stacked like pixie sticks. On top of all that, I had a sprained ankle from slipping on the ice. Ahh, breakup! ‘Shwacking through the woods to get home that spring was NOT fun!
I had another interesting challenge that spring. Like a lot of folks who live off the grid in Alaska, I have a “cold hole” for refrigeration. This is a mini-root cellar constructed of three fifty-five gallon drums with the ends cut out, stacked together and buried. Things stay real cold and it had worked well for years. But that spring, ground pressure from either ice or a rising water table started warping the barrels. You know that scene in Star Wars when Luke, Han, Princess Leia and the Wookie start to get crushed in the trash compactor? It was like that. My bottom cooler got completely wedged. Folks that I had come by and look at it to give me advice just looked down and shook their heads. It was such a ridiculous “only in the bush” kind of problem that it was actually rather humorous. But it was still a problem.
My fireweed garden
There’s a reason they call living out here the do-it-the-hard-way club.
I don’t have a garden. I’m overwhelmed enough with my house project. I don’t have time for one yet, especially in a year like this one. But I do have a wild garden – a combination fireweed/rose garden/raspberry patch. I encourage certain plants that grow here naturally by spreading a few random seeds in the fall.
It was starting to look pretty good. Most years the fireweed is taller than I am, and the raspberries had really taken off.
Baby Moose
Then the moose discovered my garden. It started about 2 years ago – I came home from work one day and all those five-foot high fireweed blossoms had disappeared. I was astounded.
Last year I caught her in the act, a mama with 2 babies. I watched her mow down my flowers and cringed as the whole family tore into the two tiny birch trees I had been so carefully nurturing, the only plants I had actually transplanted onto my land. What was I to do? I sure wasn’t going to mess around with a mama moose!
She likes raspberries!
Then I woke up this morning to a moose in my raspberry patch. No-o-o! Stick to the fireweed! I had to go stand on my porch and tell her she needed to share. She wasn’t so sure about that, but since I wouldn’t go away, she eventually ambled off to the other side of the house.
I think she might be one of last year’s calves. She looks young, possibly a yearling. I’m resigned to losing the fireweed, but the raspberries? No fair! I didn’t even know moose LIKED raspberries until today! As soon as she left, I went out to pick what was left before she came back.
So why do I put up with it? Why deal with all the hardship? Why not go somewhere with the basic comforts of life, like electricity and running water?
Baby bunny
Well, I like watching my neighbors the moose, even though I don’t want to share my raspberries with them. I like waking up to the birds singing and greeting the bunnies hopping around my front yard.
As a former Colorado girl, owning an aspen-filled ridge is truly living the dream. How did I ever get so lucky?
I like lying back on a mossy hill, surrounded by lovely lichens and low-bush cranberries. I like living in a land full of kind, courageous, happy, amazing people, that it is a privilege and a pleasure to call my friends and neighbors. I like looking out at one of the most sublime views on the planet. Living here, I feel like every day, as I gaze out at the view from my front porch, I hear the angels sing.
Is living here the do-it-the-hard-way club? Most certainly. Is it worth it? Absolutely!
Living remote in McCarthy, sometimes you have to go out for groceries, doctor, building supplies. Often it’s the hell trip to Anchorage or the Valley – 600 miles round trip, 7-8 hours of driving each way, with a whirlwind of stops crammed between as you pick up everything you need to maintain your life.
Unusual albino fireweed flowers
Occasionally you just need a few essentials or you don’t have enough time for a full-on Anchorage run. If you’re lucky, you can get what you need at Wenger’s, an excellent old-fashioned country store in Kenny Lake, just 85 miles away. When you need to go mid-range, you have 2 choices – Glennallen, 120 miles away (B-O-R-I-N-G) or Valdez, 180 miles away.
Valdez has a hospital that’s far better than the clinic in Glennallen, a good chiropractor, a thrift shop I like and a natural foods store. The grocery store gives me sticker shock every time I’m there. It’s more expensive than the one in Glennallen, but the produce is better.
Mineral Creek
The town of Valdez doesn’t look like much. Although it has a rich and fascinating history dating all the way back to the “98 Gold Rush, the entire town washed away in a tidal wave during the 1964 earthquake. Most of what was rebuilt was essentially a man-camp in the pipeline boom – ugly, square, utilitarian. No character. But the drive and the setting – Oh my!
Lowe River
Valdez is a town defined by water, in all its myriad forms. Snow, ice, waterfalls, of course the ocean, and rain. Incessant rain.
Bald Eagle on the Dayville Road
But if you happen to visit Valdez on a good day, it is one of the crown jewels of the Chugach.
Driving to Valdez, you must go over Thompson Pass. This is one of the snowiest places in North America, with 600 to 900 inches of snow a year. In the winter, it is one of the world’s primo extreme heli-skiing destinations. In the summer, think alpine wildflowers, glaciers, tundra benches, jagged mountains, and a little later, blueberries. Lots and lots of blueberries.
Arctic Ground Squirrel near Thompson Pass
Coming down from the pass, you enter Keystone Canyon. The Chugach Mountains are forbiddingly steep, rising 5,000 feet straight up from the coast. And when all that winter snow melts…Can you say waterfall?
Horsetail Falls
Of course, there are the big ones, Bridal Veil and Horsetail Falls. But there are dozens more. Every time I take this drive I spy another one I hadn’t noticed before. In the winter, this is an ice climber’s dream.
When you get to town, you’re surrounded by all the wonders of Prince William Sound. Valdez is a great destination if you want to get out on the water. You can go kayaking at Shoup Bay. You can take a tour to see the Columbia Glacier, or go halibut or salmon fishing.
Prince William Sound from the Dayville Road
If these activities are not in your budget, there are plenty of things to do on land. You can revisit Gold Rush history with a visit to the Museum or the Valdez Glacier, the “All-American” route to the goldfields. Take a hike on the old Valdez Trail, constructed by the army in 1899 as a safer route into the Interior.
Stop at the Forest Service Visitor Center and watch the salmon come in. Sometimes there are bears. Take a drive out the Dayville Road to watch the sunset. Get a view of the coast on the Shoup Bay Trail, or check out the waterfalls and flowers along Mineral Creek.
A Valdez View
This weekend it’s Gold Rush Days in Valdez. Go down and join in on the festivities, and on your way, enjoy that beautiful drive!
I love the McCarthy Road. The road drifts east 60 miles from Chitina to McCarthy, a tangled dance of Park, private, Native and State lands. It’s a bit on the raw side. If you make it in 2 hours, you had a very good day. Most days it takes about three.
Wrangell Mountains in the Sweet Light
I don’t think I’ve ever made it in 2 hours. I like to take my time. It helps me make the transition from laid-back McCarthy to the modern world.
It used to be called “the worst road in Alaska”. The first year I was here, every time my friend Jill drove the road, another part fell off her car. After 2 summers of losing pieces, she was done. Back then, travelers understood that the journey was just as important as the destination. A trip down the McCarthy Road was an adventure in itself.
Leaving Chitina, you pass through a one-way cut, remnants of an old railway tunnel. It’s a kind of gateway, your first clue that the McCarthy Road is a different kind of drive. Around the corner, you get your first glimpse of BIG water, the confluence of the Chitina and Copper Rivers. It’s the 10th largest river in the U. S. in volume and the only river in Alaska that’s longer is the Yukon.
Copper and Chitina River confluence in early spring
The Copper is famous for its fishery. Copper River Red salmon is regarded as one of the finest salmons in the world. At the bridge is a State subsistence fishery, so people come from everywhere on Alaska’s road system to try their hand at dipnetting for some prime fillets and a few fish to can or smoke for the winter. Upstream you can look past a jumble of local fish wheels to the glowing snows of Mt. Drum.
Summer sign for the MXY Road
Cross the Copper and there’s the sign. It’s a warning sign – Are you SURE you’re ready for the McCarthy Road? The sign is a lot more severe in the winter “Travel on this road is NOT recommended. Expect avalanches, road glaciers, extreme cold…” Be prepared for any eventuality. You’re a long way from nowhere.
Right after the sign, the road climbs the Kotsina Bluffs, a microcosm of future challenges. The washboard on the way up the hill will rattle your parts off. Skinny road, steep cliff, no guardrails, and mudslides sloughing off the hill to the right.
Kotsina Bluffs
The Kotsina River has recently changed course, crossing its broad floodplain to erode the bottom of the bluff directly below you. Look for the half-buried RV near the Copper, stranded and then inundated when the Kotsina made its sudden detour. But maybe you’d better keep your eyes on the road, watching for potholes, falling rocks, or oncoming traffic around the next curve.
At the top of the bluff, you hit the chipseal. A few years ago, the DOT chipsealed most of the first 17 miles of the road, from the top of the bluffs to the Kuskulana. We warned them this wasn’t the best idea. Within a year it was a minefield of horrendous potholes and frost heaves so bad that entire sections of road had just fallen away. The “improvements” haven’t changed the character; you still have to pay attention.
Chitina River
After a few miles, pull over for a scenic view of the Chitina River. I get a warm fuzzy feeling when I look at that vast wilderness upstream and realize I’m going into the heart of it.
Ponds along the McCarthy Road
Travel past permafrost ponds filled with ducks, beaver and water lilies, catching glimpses of Mt. Blackburn through the trees. Wild roses form hedges along the side of the road. At the end of the chipseal is the Kuskulana Bridge.
This was the 11th highest bridge in the United States when I was built in 1910. It’s a long way down. How long? Grab a couple of rocks, the bigger the better. Walk to the middle of the bridge. Drop them. I like to drop one on each side. Listen for the sound of the impact. You’ll listen for a little longer than you thought it would take. Yeah, it’s a long way down.
Kuskulana Bridge
Back in the 1980’s, the crossing was 2 planks. No guard rails. You needed a spotter to make sure your tires stayed on the boards. Not many people made it to McCarthy back then.
In the ‘90’s, you could occasionally bandit bungee jump off the Kuskulana Bridge. Word would go out through the grapevine – tomorrow – bungee jumping on the Kuskulana… It was free if you went naked, and a party even if you didn’t jump.
Traveling slow on the McCarthy Road
Back in those days, we all traveled slow on the McCarthy Road. It was a one-lane road then, gravel all the way, and the road crew didn’t make it out our way very often. Only one or 2 RVs a year made it all the way down back then, and we all thought they were crazy. Traffic was so light that when you saw another car you stopped to pass the time of day. I kind of miss those days.
There are rewards for going slower. Less dust, more wildlife. One of my favorite spots for viewing wildlife are the ponds and marshes just west of Chokosna. This is the best spot on the road for Trumpeter Swans.
Trumpeter Swans
Sometimes you get lucky and the parents bring their little cygnets close to the road for you to see and photograph. The reflections of the surrounding mountains on the water are sublime. And if you hit this patch, as I often do, at the sweet light time of the evening… You, too will fall in love with the McCarthy Road.
One spring I saw an eagle eating a duck here. Last week an eagle practically landed on my windshield on the Kotsina Bluffs. Raptors, waterfowl, songbirds, the McCarthy Road is a birdwatcher’s delight.
Moose on McCarthy Road
It’s no Denali, but wildlife sightings are frequent. Moose sightings are common. Twice I’ve seen a wolf, once a lynx. Some lucky souls have seen bison recently near Chitina, stragglers from a small herd of Plains Bison introduced to the Copper River in the 1930’s. There are bears, too.
One of my all-time favorite wildlife sightings on the road was a massive grizzly bear in the Crystalline Hills. I followed gargantuan piles of scat and footprints for about a mile before I saw him. He continued to nonchalantly plod down the road in front of me for another half mile before eventually turning into the brush. That dude OWNED the road!
Gilahina Trestle
The Gilahina Trestle marks the halfway point. This is the prettiest part of the road in the fall when the aspen turn.
Music is an important part of a McCarthy Road trip for me. Good tunes add to the already abundant joy. Some tunes are especially suited to the drive. I like to have Leftover Salmon’s “Dance on Your Head” in my I-Pod feed as I approach McCarthy after a long absence – “There’s no stopping this party, cuz this is a festival town”.
Crystal Lake, Long Lake, and you’re on the home stretch. Although it’s been a long drive, you still have to pay attention. The last 10 miles are the roughest.
Beaver Dam in the road
The marsh near the DNR rest stop is my favorite place to see moose. Earlier this summer I saw a moose family reunion there, 8 moose in one place, from the oldest, grayest, Grandma moose I’ve ever seen to a newborn calf. You never know what’s around the next bend on the McCarthy Road.
When Porphyry and Sourdough Mountains dominate the view, I know I’m almost home.
Mudslide on McCarthy Road
Just a mudslide or two and a few hellacious potholes and I’ll be there – there being the Kennicott River. It’s still 3 miles on the ATV to my house, but that’s another story.
Thoreau said “The rougher the road, the finer the filter.” I like the McCarthy Road being rough. Keeps out the riff-raff. Makes people slow down and pay attention. I love the McCarthy Road, potholes and all. It’s always an epic journey to me.
The HomestretchThe flowers are nice, too!It’s one stunning view after another.
