Mt. Alice, the boss

views of Resurrection Bay from Mt. Alice

Living in Alaska and frequently hiking over the last two years has convinced me that mountains have personalities. There are those that will make you earn every single step and view on the way up and down! This, at least for me, describes our tallest mountain in Seward, Mount Alice. She always kicks my ass in one way or another. 

I have attempted to climb to its Godwin Glacier overlook on a number of occasions. My husband has reached that point on the mountain a couple of times over the last two years without me. I am happy to say that I finally did it earlier this summer, but not without Alice testing my nerves!

B in his element. Mt. Alice's highest peak is on the left.

I managed to keep it together on the way up, and was quite proud and pleasantly supervised with myself when we reached the top, given the crazy steep crumbling rock and snow fields we had just finished crossing using the ‘ladder approach’. 

However, on the way down, Alice reminded me who’s in charge. That’s when I didn’t keep it together. 

While we were crossing another steep downhill snowfield, and each step looked like it was taking me toward an endless abyss, because I couldn't see around the corner; and I started believing that if I didn't take an absolutely perfect step I would end up rolling down the entire side of the mountain and into Resurrection Bay; my dear husband sensed the level of my stress and started to say something sweet to me, when I  screamed back "Please don't talk. I'm starting to freak out!" It got so bad that I started kicking the snow in frustration, as if that was going to make me get down quicker, or safer, or make my freezing hands feel better! 

I made it!

Luckily, and gratefully, he continued to remind me, in his signature gentle way, that everything was just fine, that we were safe, and that I could do this. And with that, along with a bit of crying by me and some loving hugs from him, I managed to get back to Zen somehow and enjoy the rest of the climb down. But not without feeling deeply humbled, once again, by Mt. Alice, the boss. 

Happy mountaineering!

~Tamara   

A CALL TO THE UNIVERSE

A few years ago, I came across the mystical prayer "make the invisible, visible." And ever since then, I have practiced it whenever I'm outside among nature's bounty. It may sound silly, but this simple and brief invocation has really worked wonders for my senses and ability to become aware of nature's lessons and mystical web of details.

Yesterday was no different, while my partner and I hiked through an ancient rainforest, hanging with moss and ferns, on our way to Tonsina Point in Caines Head State Recreation Area near Seward.

As we hiked and once at water's edge, I put out a silent call to the universe, and waited as the wonder unfolded within my senses of sight, smell, hearing, and feeling.

Tonsina Point on January 28, 2017

The heights of the spruce and fir trees struck me like never before. Their towering trunks and canopies reflected the firmness and majesty of the mountains that they grew out of. 

The textures of dead trees, their inner workings exposed and folded in intricate ways, exuded such complexity and subtlety of color. 

The raindrops hung from the tips of evergreen needles, decorating the woods and trails in sparkly curtains. 

The snow, oh that white wonder and solidarity of the universe. It humbly folded beneath our feet, pressing deeper into the soil, while allowing us to pass through its pearly gates. 

Alaska's waters, what more needs to be said? 
Their purity, power, and reflection of wind's motion are at once soothing and mysteriously out of reach,

continually exposing deeper and deeper revelations. 

And there they are, the body of Mother Earth reaching out to Father Sky. 

The ancient, the sacred, the grandmothers of HERstory, 

at once swimming among the clouds and growing out of Earth's core. 

When their peaks are covered in alpine glow, surrounded by clear blue skies,

one can only stand still and stare, 

catching a glimpse of the divine.

Happy communing with Mother Earth!

~Modern Akhmatova 

WINTER MAGIC

Yes, I know it's not technically winter yet, but to me, the winter is here when everything is covered in snow and I'm dressed in 3 layers of clothing head to toe. In Alaska in particular, it's hard to accept that it's not winter yet when we're surrounded by mountains covered in snow and hemlock trees that have turned into dancing white sculptures. And then there is the one of a kind magical silence that only winter snowfall can create. It's best experienced deep in the woods...

This past weekend we spent the night at the Dale Clemens cabin. To get there, we had to hike about 3 miles up the Lost Lake trail through deep hemlock forest. Some snow had already fallen in town, but it wasn't until we entered the woods that I was struck by the enchantment that this snowfall offered.

I was in a bit of a sour mood leading up to our hike, but as soon as we entered the woods my energy shifted. I am a firm believer in the healing and restorative power of nature, and this time wasn't any different. 

As soon as we entered the woods, we were greeted by snowflakes. We stopped, looked up and paused to relish the enchanted feeling of watching snow fall. It descended in such a unified and controlled way that made me feel the pace of time - a slow, steady and harmonious process. The snow had a singular purpose and it was executing it beautifully. 

Looking up, we also noticed the chandeliers that nature had created out of hemlock branches and snow flakes. We started to hike again with snow-covered and wild blueberry bushes beside us, their dark blue fruit shimmering beneath the snowy hats. And although the silence was broken by the sounds of snow crunching beneath our feet, the sense of awe and calmness that this winter wonderland offered kept our hearts enchanted for the rest of the hike.

Overnight, more snow had fallen and the tracks we had made the day before were now dusted with snow, creating shadowy dips and mounds on the trail. And with that, the vivid memories we had made in those same places just 24 hours earlier had become part of the magical silence and endless renewal that these snow-covered woods offered to anyone and everyone that greeted it.

Happy snowy adventures!

~Modern Akhmatova

Panorama shot of the sunrise that we enjoyed from
the top of Old Rag Mountain's first peak.

time to breathe 

the holidays required of us to "engage with the world"

we are blessed with a big family

blessed with togetherness 

but our minds and souls needed rest

we needed quiet

and that required of us to "be away from the world"

we sought fresh air, open spaces and closeness with the earth

we found these, and much more, among the Shenandoah mountains

everything gave us time to breathe - 

the foggy trails

the mist covered rocks

the glistening tree bark

the squishy mud beneath our feet

the sound of rain falling on our tent and the forest around us throughout the night

and then there was that magical sunrise

as it came up over the horizon

and we stood on top of Old Rag Mountain

I realized that everything that breathes, moves and is alive was focused on that light.

Happy breathing!

~Modern Akhmatova