Wolverine Mountain

Alone

The plane dropped me off on the top of the mountain on a beautiful sunshiny summer afternoon. I looked around at the undulating green tundra surrounding me and across the mile-deep chasm in front of me to an endless vista of nameless mountains and glaciers. I was alone.

Alone. It took a few moments for it to sink in just HOW alone I was. There was no one else around, or likely to be around, either, for miles and miles because “you can’t get there from here.” Due to big, burly glacial rivers and precipitous cliffs, the only way to get there was to fly. I had been an avid backpacker and wilderness wanderer all my life, but I had never experienced true wilderness like this. I took off all my clothes and ran around naked for a while to celebrate, just because I could.

Sunrise Surprise

The next morning I got up especially early. Although the view was spectacular wherever I looked, I had a special spot in mind. Just a few hundred yards from my tent was a small pond accented by the brilliant magenta hues of a patch of fireweed. Across the pond was a view of the most spectacular peaks in the entire range. If I timed it right, I should be able to catch the alpenglow on those peaks in that sweet morning light, with the pond and fireweed in the foreground. I grabbed my tripod and camera, nothing else, and headed out to watch the sunrise.

It seemed like I could see forever across the mossy tundra, but appearances are deceiving. The land was as rumpled as a blanket thrown over a litter of puppies. I dropped down over a rise – right onto – a grizzly bear, grazing on the grass.

Number one rule in bear country is never surprise the bear, and I was just feet away, having approached swiftly and silently. Even though I was way too close, he hadn’t noticed me yet. I hightailed it out of there as fast as I could, and as soon as I was far enough away to not surprise him, I started singing loudly to make him aware of my presence. “Oh Lord, please don’t let the bear eat me” went the refrain.

I returned to my tent, which was way too close to that bear for comfort, and grabbed the things I needed to spend all day away (including the bear spray I’d left in the tent the first time out). I was pretty nervous when I came back to camp that evening, but thankfully he was long gone.

Unexpected Encounter

The next morning, I packed up and headed for the landing strip to wait for the plane.

It was another beautiful day, but a bit breezier than the last two. I heard the buzz of the plane and knew my ride was on its way. The pilot, Kelly Bay, started his final approach. An errant gust of wind slammed into the plane, tipping one of the wings perilously close to the ground. Kelly accelerated and got out of there fast, waving goodbye, accident narrowly averted.

Since it was too windy to land, I was kind of stranded. After all, you can’t get there from here, so all I could do was wait until the wind died down and he returned. So I kicked back on my pack and contemplated the sublime scenery. There are definitely worse places, and circumstances, to be stranded in. Since I was supposed to work that evening, I just looked at it as a bonus day off in paradise!

That is, until I saw the dark brown shape running across the tundra. It was pretty far away, and there’s no sense of scale above timberline, but it was the same dark brown color as that damn bear. I thought, “ Oh no, not again!”

So I started singing. As I did, I pulled my binoculars from my pack to get a good look at the beast. Hmmm, it’s got a tail. It’s NOT a bear. Wolf? Strange, wolves don’t run with their tails between their legs like that, and I’ve never seen one that dark brown color.

Then the animal heard my voice and started to turn, running back the way it had come. I saw the yellow stripe along its side. Damn! Wolverine! I’d never seen one before. What a rare and wonderful sighting! I was so mad at myself for chasing away a wolverine before I even had a chance to photograph it.

When Kelly finally returned later that afternoon, I shared with him the story of my little adventure.

“Wolverine, huh? You’re lucky! What a great sighting!” He contemplated my story for a few moments. “You know, we call this airstrip Chitistone Heights. I hate that name. Sounds like a soap opera. I think I’ll rename it after your experience. Wolverine Mountain.”

That was 25 years ago, almost to the day. Wolverine Mountain it is, beloved by many. Michelle McAfee even wrote a song about it. Although I practice Leave No Trace, somehow I seem to have made my mark on this wilderness. How amazing it is to live in a place where our stories can still become part of the landscape.