Esther and Rachel helping to set up
The view from the porch looking south. The storm had moved northeast of us by this time and the clouds were starting to break up to reveal an incredible sunset. 
Rachel, Esther, and Adam
The Sandias- my home mountains. As the sun set over the West Mesa, the Sandias to the east were bathed in an golden light. With them so close, it made me want to run away to the mountains that much more...
Looking up toward upper Evolution basin from camp. After a rather rainy night, I woke up to a wet sleeping bag and what seemed to be clearing skies. Worried that putting all of my things away wet would leave me miserable later that day, I made the unfortunate error of deciding to stick around camp until the sun rose to dry out my gear. As I impatiently waited, counting the minutes until the sun reached the valley, I watched the clouds start to rebuild right where the sun was going to come over the horizon. When the sun finally rose high enough to reach my location, so little of the light made it through the shifting clouds that I gave up and packed my gear despite its sogginess. Thus, I didn't end up leaving camp until 8:00 with a good five miles uphill to the pass still to climb.
The view back down Evolution Valley from the bench of Evolution Basin after a good switchback-laden climb to get me going in the morning.
Evolution Lake and the view toward the pass. An incredible view but notice the clouds that have started to build? Not a good sign. At this point I realized I needed to stop taking pictures and get my butt moving; I was still a good 3 miles from the top of the pass and a storm was definitely imminent. Although it was only around 10:00 am, early for afternoon thunderstorms, the hail started falling intermittently when I was just 2/3 of the way around the lake. Well above treeline at this point, I climbed past several more small alpine lakes without seeing anyone else on the trail. As I was filled with plenty of self doubt about what the hell I was doing here anyway, I found myself praying that someone else would come along so that at least if I was struck by lightning, they would know where to look for the body. It all sounds a bit over dramatic in hindsight, but I can't remember the last time I was so scared.
Mark and I on the way down LeConte Canyon from Muir Pass. Mark and I reached the pass with no further problems and were greeted by the amazing sight of an offer of beer from a guy named Grant at the hut at the top. Grant was something of a legend on the trail as this crazy dude who had hiked in several cases of beer and was handing them out at Muir Pass. Upon reaching the hut, we found the rumors to be true and not only was there beer (Tecate... can you ask for more?) but a portable, battery powered stereo playing reggae music. Hanging out with him and Mark while enjoying a respite from the weather made all of the stress of the day instantly better. Grant, as it turns out, has made this trip twice now and as far as I can tell, does it because he enjoys the through-hiking culture, but also values camping in luxury with his queen sized air mattress. Most of all, though, I think he just likes making people happy.
Hiking through the hail headed down from Muir Pass. Shortly after the second round of lighting and thunder stopped, Mark and I headed down into the LaConte Canyon. In the wake of the storm, we found incredibly cold winds and almost six inches of hail in some spots which seemed surreal for late July. Mark and I spent the afternoon hiking together and I learned a lot more about his unusual background. He had started hiking the JMT several weeks ago after going out for what he thought might be a couple night trip. When he just kept hiking, he predictably found himself short on food and subsisted on less than 800 calories a day provided mostly by other generous hikers. I would cross paths with Mark several times over the course of the next week or so and he remains one of the nicest, albeit most unusual, hikers I met on my trip. 
Blisters on the hips aside, I woke up on Monday morning excited to be on the JMT. I was headed into Evolution Valley, an area known for its beautiful meadows, gorgeous views, and a whole chain of mountains named for famous evolutionary thinkers... Mendel, Darwin, Lamarck, and Spencer. Of course, Wallace gets screwed again and misses out. Pausing after pack-up to take a quick photo of my camp site, I headed south up the South Fork of the San Joaquin River to its junction with Evolution Creek. The river itself was a deep shade of green as it swirled around the metamorphic rock of the sunny valley. It is amazing to think that the waters flowing through this valley will eventually flow through the Central Valley before being pumped south towards LA so we can grow alfalfa in our arid climate. 
Leaving the waters of the San Joaquin behind, I began the 25 switchbacks (I did actually count) up into the hanging Evolution Valley. Evolution Creak tumbles down this same slope in a beautiful series of falls and rapids like the one in the photo above. On the way up, I was passed by a pack of horses headed down and a few minutes later by their handler chasing after them. Once the runaway horses were recollected, they all beat me up the hill, leaving me wishing I had packed a horse to go along with the still ridiculously heavy pack on my back. 
Stopping for lunch at an quiet bend in the creek, I took advantage of being off trail to jump in for a swim and to laze around on nearby rocks on the warm sunny afternoon. It was one of those days when everything in the world just felt right. I sat watching the small trout swim through the creek for over an hour before finally getting up and bushwhacking my way back to the trail. Entering Evolution Meadow, I took off my boots again to wade across the shallow sandy creek and passed several elaborate campsites as I climbed toward the ranger station in McClure Meadow. 
Always looking my best while hiding out from the rain in camp at Darwin Creek. I got into camp pretty early as there was a significant climb ahead of me and I was not too excited about camping above treeline when there was a storm approaching. Unfortunately, I used the extra time to do some laundry which refused to dry over the following two wet days. This was also the only night that my tent decided to leak, although the wettest part of my sleeping bag was the foot which I had covered in a garbage bag to try to keep it dry. Once again condensation proves to be much greater than a couple of drips. 
Day 0: North Lake Trailhead to Piute Lake
Day 1: Piute Lake to the Junction of Piute Creek and the JMT
Looking back at the west side of Piute Pass from Humphrey's Basin. The alpine area up here was absolutely incredible with wide open expanses looking up toward the Glacial Divide to the south. I can't wait to get back here to explore the hundreds of alpine lakes that are scattered throughout the area. 
Crossing the 10,000 ft line on my way down the Piute Creek valley.
Hiking 13 miles on day 1? Bad idea. As the trail winded down Piute Canyon toward the South Fork of the San Joaquin River, it felt absolutely endless. Here I first learned the lesson that I kept learning over and over again throughout my hike; hiking downhill can often be just as difficult as hiking uphill. As I stumbled across the scree filled slopes that characterized the lower sections of this valley, all I could think of was how much I wanted a flat place to camp. When I finally fell into camp, I discovered that it is possible to get blisters on ones hips... but food and sleep are the best cures to help make it all better. 
The view from the top of the ridge looking toward the Kenai Peninsula. Across the arm, tucked into the clouds we could see almost Pyramid Peak, the elusive peak that Darcy and I have yet to climb after three summers of best intentions. Just another reason why I have to come back I suppose.
We eventually left the Bird Ridge trail and set off across the tundra to try to meet up with the Indian Valley trail about 2000 feet below us. While the slope was moderate, the soft tundra makes hiking off trail pretty simple... at least until we hit tree line.
Darcy and Rachel overlooking Indian Valley.
Taking a break on the way down. This is the photo Darcy is supposed to send me sometime in February of 2008 to remind me to start applying for jobs up north so I can play in the Chugach every afternoon. 
It would not be a proper hike without silly pictures. Darcy, Rachel and me looking our best as always.
Looking down at the town of Wrangell from our picnic perch on the hill above town. Despite some of the thickest fog I have ever seen on the evening we arrived in town, it cleared the next day to reveal the absolutely gorgeous surroundings of this small logging town. 
The fog returned later in our visit, allowing for some eerie scenes like this one Darcy took on her morning run. 
The carvings outside of Chief Shakes house located on an island in the middle of the Wrangell Harbor. 
Desperately Seeking Data ... Volumes 20 - 25: Field Researchers Hard at Work. We would like to take this moment to assure citizens of the State of Alaska that their research money is being well spent. 
While this trip was not characterized by quite as many free trips as Darcy and I usually seem to fall into, we were invited to tag along to one of the premier destinations in the area, Anan Wildlife Observatory, on our last day in Wrangell. This area is made famous by the fifty or so black and brown bears that live in the area each summer to take advantage of the large run of pink salmon. While the bears were absolutely amazing, the experience was made that much more incredible by the beautiful old growth forest through which we walked, the bald eagles on every tree, and the seals that kept popping their heads our of the water to satisfy their curiosity as we approached.
To reach the bear viewing platform on the river, we had to walk about a mile on a boardwalk path through the forest. Bears rule the forest here and humans are made very aware that they are just visitors. Bear trails are visible on both sides of the trail and the path has many perfect paw prints impressed into the soft ground. Walking toward the platform, we were the ones who stepped off the trail when a bear decided that she wanted to walk on the path where we were standing. Despite the close proximity of bears and humans, the bears here are still entirely wild. The Forest Service has done an excellent job of controlling access to the area so it is not overrun with visitors and continues to ensure that humans remain passive observers at this amazing site. 
As we reached the viewing platform, we had an incredible view out over the river where we could watch the bears fishing from the banks. It had rained a ton recently and the river was running extremely high. This meant that the bears couldn't use their usual fishing spots and more often then not, stood around looking confused wondering how they could get at the fish who were also being pummeled by the fast water. When Darcy and I got a turn down in the photo blind on the river level, we were amazed to watch a large female black bear fishing just four feet from our clicking cameras. Overall, the opportunity to watch these amazing mammals at such close range and for such a long period of time was one of the most incredible experiences I have ever had. Thank you Brenda!
Petersburg is located on the northern tip of Mitkof Island with views across Frederick Sound toward the mainland and the towering Boundary Range Mountains. We were particularly surprised at the amount of snow still left on many of the mountains in the area, the remains of one of the heaviest snow years ever in Southeast. 
This is what happens when you give us free reign with the camera...
... but we managed to take a decent looking picture eventually. 
We had a rainy hike out to Ideal Cove, which made the board walk trails very slippery and I took a couple of spectacular falls. Luckily, a stubbed toe was the extent of my injuries. Like most forested areas in southeast, the vegetation was incredibly lush and green, reminding this New Mexican exactly how far I was from home. 
Darcy and I were very excited to have hard-boiled eggs for dinner on our hike. I am not really sure why... but they were pretty tasty.
By the time we got to Ideal Cove, the rain had just about stopped and we enjoyed a beautiful evening eating our picnic dinner and looking out across Frederick Sound toward the mainland. It never quite got clear enough to get a good look at Devils Thumb, a notable peak in the boundary range, but we could see icebergs coming off the LeConte Glacier which is visible in the valley in the center of the photo. 
Being the responsible biologist that I am, I try not to anthropomorphize animals too much. I have to admit though... porcupines are incredibly cute and might win out for one of my favorite animals. This one couldn't quite decide why it was crossing the road... giving me plenty of opportunities to get a picture.
On our flight to Juneau from Anchorage, we had one of the clearest days I have seen while flying over Prince William Sound and the Wrangall/St. Elias area. This resulted in incredible views of the mountains and glaciers that form the boundary between Alaska and Canada including St. Elias (Canada) and Mt. Bona (US), both in the top ten tallest mountains in North America.
Darcy and Laura on a ridge above the glacier in the first of many silly pictures taken that morning (and just one of many for the whole trip).
Laura and I inside one of the coolest ice caves I have ever explored. The glacial blue and textured walls of the ice was otherworldly; I don't think I would have been surprised to see a woolly mammoth looking back at me from the ice!
More silly photos.
Darcy? Cold? I thought it would never happen! In all seriousness, the glacier significantly alters the air temperature in the Mendenhall Valley where it can often be 10 degrees cooler than in town. As we walked over the final ridge before the glacier, we could feel the wind sweeping freezing air off the ice. 
The brave explorers have conquered the ice cave!
Combat fishing involves standing so close to one another that you have to time your casts with the person next to you. Tangling your line with the person next to you earns plenty of dirty looks. . 
We fished the area where the Russian River flows into the Kenai River. You can see the Kenai, silty from glacial runoff, in the top of the photo and the clear Russian below. The waters of the two rivers are identifiable for over a mile downstream by their distinctly different colors. 
The summit of Denali peaking out over the shifting clouds. Although you cannot see the rest of the Alaska range in this photo for perspective, it is still amazing how incredibly tall Denali is compared to the rest of the mountains in the area. It towers above pretty much everything!
The cairns along this trail were amazing. Someone had obviously taken quite a bit of time to artfully balance the rocks along the whole ridge trail. This, of course, required that we take time to appreciate them. 
Darcy and Toby hanging out during a quick break with the Alaska range in the background. 
While Denali was well hidden, Moose's Tooth decided to come out of the fog on Saturday evening. 
