Up in the air at Kluane National Park, Yukon Territory

The plane was waiting at Haines Junction airport.

At the Haines Junction Airport, our 1980 Cessna. Planes sure do have a long lifespan.  I’m glad I didn’t know that we were flightseeing in a plane that pre-dates the personal computer. If only well-maintained computers lasted this long.

The clearing weather presented both a threat (mostly to our wallets) and an opportunity.  As we pulled into Haines Junction, we debated our options.

The circle was nearly complete.  Along with my 13-year-old son, my Alaskan friend Elizabeth and I had traveled from Juneau to Skagway, and over White Pass to Carcross and Whitehorse. Canoed on the Yukon River and soaked in the Takhini hot springs.

Should we venture out to the Kluane-St. Elias Ice Fields — the world’s largest non-polar icefields and the largest protected natural area in the world? The plane was small, the price steep. Plus, after packing so much in already, might we fail to appreciate the awesomeness of the ice fields?

I reminded myself — and explained to my son — that as a living-on-the-edge 20-something, I had emptied my bank account to take a similarly expensive flight to Glacier Bay National Park. Although it’s  possible that I’ll get to Haines Junction again, I had to admit that it’s not likely. Hence, we went for it.

We began our flight over brown green alpine slopes where we could see specks of Dall sheep grazing, but soon began to fly up these glacier rivers into the heart of the Kluane ice fields.

We began our flight over brown green alpine slopes where we could see specks of Dall sheep grazing, but soon began to fly up these glacier rivers into the heart of the St. Elias-Kluane Ice Fields. Below, rivers of ice, trimmed with layer of gray silt.

As the plane buzzed its way deeper into the remote ice fields, the pilot pointed out different peaks, including Mount Kennedy, named for JFK after his assassination, and climbed in 1965 by his brother Robert — the only mountain Robert ever climbed.

robert kennedy photoThe expedition was the first attempt to climb Mount Kennedy. The highly experienced team included Jim Whittaker and Barry Prather, both part of the first American team to climb Mount Everest. Senator Robert Kennedy had been invited to join them, although he had a fear of heights and had never climbed any mountains (not even Mount Washington).  He accepted the invitation, he said, “for personal reasons that seemed compelling” and he “returned with a feeling — apart from exhaustion — of exhilaration and extreme gratification.”  Despite attempts to keep his participation a secret, word leaked out. The climb became a huge media event (for more, see newscast clip and other resources at the bottom of the post).

Robert Kennedy left several JFK mementos on Mount Kennedy, including his watch, a copy of JFK’s first inaugural address, and several PT boat tie clips.

This is either Mount X or Mount Kennedy, named for JFK.  Bobby Kennedy climbed Mount Kennedy (which is a major alpine expedition, not a hike) and left his brother's watch and some other artifacts on Mount Kennedy.

I took this photo near Mount Logan.  I believe it is Mount Kennedy (which is a subpeak of Mount Logan), but am not positive. What I am sure of:  if you find yourself in Haines Junction on a clear day, the flightseeing tour is a not-to-be missed experience.

In his Life magazine article, Kennedy wrote about how impressed he was by the climbers’ measured courage.  The climbers told him that “politics was far more dangerous than climbing.”

A view of Mount Logan, Canada's highest at X feet.  In the distance (but not in this photo), we could also see Mount Elias, the second tallest mountain in the US.

A view of Mount Logan, Canada’s highest at 19,551 feet, which puts it second in line behind Denali in North America.  On the tour, we also glimpsed Mount St. Elias (in Alaska), Glacier Bay, and the Pacific Ocean.

Today, scientists study the ice fields to learn more about climate change. This past summer (2014), bad weather stranded a group of Japanese scientists for two weeks after their pick-up date, at the camp pictured below:

In the heart of the ice fields, Japanese scientists who had been conducting research were stuck on the ice fields two weeks after their departure date due to bad weather. The scientists had just been flown out that morning.

A view of the research camp.  The stranded scientists were picked up earlier on the day of our flightseeing tour. Note the plane tracks on the ice fields.

A "close up" view of the research station. Note that one person is still down there, and hopefully still sane after spending two weeks of waiting out the rain, fog and snow.

A “close up” view of camp. Note that one person was still down there, and hopefully still sane after spending two weeks of waiting out the rain, fog and snow, in very close quarters.

A moulin in the ice field.

A moulin in the ice field. A moulin is a vertical shaft through which water melts and flows to the bottom of the glacier, where it serves as a puddle-like lubricant that facilitates glacial motion. You don’t want to fall into one of these things.

Beautiful puddles.

Beautiful puddles.  Bitterly cold, but they bottom out on the surface of the glacier, unlike the bottomless moulins.

Heading back to Haines Junction, using the glacier as a path.

Heading back to Haines Junction, and following the glacier as a highway.

The plane landed at the Haines Junction airfield like a feather dropping to the ground.  Behind the pilot, one passenger was suffering from the effects of motion sickness (it was messy).   Even so, he was grinning along with the rest of us.  Definitely not too much awesomeness.  How could we go to Kluane National Park and not take a dip in the lake?

After our flight, we camped at Kathleen Lake Campground, a $10 bargain that mentally reduced the cost of the flightseeing tour.  The next morning, we took a dip in the lake, where average summer surface water temperature hovers around 52 degree F (11 C), just a few degrees less than what we are used to, but cold enough to render The Seal speechless.

Heading down the Haines Highway to pick up the ferry in Haines, Alaska, we passed by Dezadeash Lake. Although just a few miles south of Kathleen Lake, Dezadeash is a shallow bath tub known for its warmer temperatures (up to 65 degree F/18 C in summer) and many migratory birds, including Trumpeter swans.

Trumpeter swans on Dezadeash Lake.

Trumpeter swans on Dezadeash Lake.

Links and resources

Kluane Glacier Air Tours operates out of the Haines Junction Airport.

“The Strange History of Mount Kennedy,” by Sean Sullivan at The Clymb.

Our Climb Up Mount Kennedy,” by Robert Kennedy.  Reproductions of images and text from Robert Kennedy’s April 9, 1965 Life magazine account of his climb.

Below, news report Senator Robert Kennedy’s climb up Mount Kennedy.

Crisis on Mount Washington: The Empty Sugar Barrel

During the server maintenance, the observers had to take down pencil-and-paper recordings of the wind speed at ten-minute intervals.(check)

During the server maintenance, the observers had to take down pencil-and-paper recordings of the wind speed. One person times for a two-minute period while signaling every five seconds. The other person manually records the wind speed from this Hays chart during that five-second interval.

Saturday was a crazy day for the weather observers, as the information technology observer took down the computer servers for some infrastructure maintenance. As with most IT endeavors, the process took much longer than anticipated.  Usually the weather instruments are constantly feeding data into the computers, but while the servers were down, the observers had to take their wind and other measurements the old-fashioned way, by jotting down data from the weather instruments with pencil and paper (for a more detailed explanation, see this comment by observer Michael Kyle).  For most of Saturday, no information on current weather conditions on Mount Washington was available to the general public, or the National Weather Service.

Pumpkin bread, coconut macaroons and chocolate chip cookies. But how long would they last?

Pumpkin bread, coconut macaroons and chocolate chip cookies. But how long would they last?

Down in the kitchen, we had our own crisis.  I was whipping up a double batch of chocolate chip cookie dough in anticipation of three day trips scheduled for Sunday, Monday and Tuesday.  Each trip would bring about 11 visitors to the mountain for a mid-morning snack and lunch.

After emptying the counter-top sugar canister into my measuring cup, I began to look around the pantry for more sugar. Surely, I could find more sugar.  We’re cooking on a frigid mountaintop.  On their 12-hour shifts, the weather observers go outdoors in all sorts of weather to bring in the precipitation can, chip ice from the tower instruments and work the old-fashioned “sling” that provides information on temperature and humidity.  Sweet breads and desserts, in small quantities, are almost an essential food for the soul and the mind, sugar be damned.

In the pantry, I checked all the Kitchenmaid food storage containers.  Hot cocoa, peanuts, rice, spaghetti, par-boiled rice, coconut flakes, unsweetened chocolate.  But no sugar. I checked the small sugar bowl by the coffee maker. Not a scrap.  There HAD to be sugar.  Back into the pantry. Then I spied the ten-gallon trash barrel flour bin. Did a similar sugar bin exist? I pushed aside the flour bin and there it was — the sugar bin!  Now I could complete the chocolate chip recipe as instructed.  I pulled the bin towards me and pulled off the lid.

When I opened the mega-gallon barrel of sugar, I found this scoop and a few sprinkles.

When I opened the mega-gallon barrel of sugar, I found this scoop and a few sprinkles.

The bin was empty.  Completely, totally barren.  Today was Saturday, and we had 3-1/2 more days on the mountain, with three groups arriving and a hungry crew of observers. Which crisis was more grave – the server issues, and the fact that the weather station couldn’t get its observations out to the world? Or a potentially bare dessert plate? You be the judge.

I was only short about a half-cup of the white sugar I needed, so I finished off my cookies with a little bit more brown sugar than called for in the recipe.  The cookies came out fine. I set aside some dough for the next day, when the group was coming up on the SnoCat. With this huge batch of cookie dough, plus our existing stash of sweets, I figured we would sail through the sugar crisis.  It might even pass unnoticed.

We were sure we would be eating this beef stew for days, but the day trip visitors polished off most of it at lunch.

We were sure we would be eating this beef stew for days, but the day trip visitors polished off most of it at lunch.

But on Sunday, our first day group of 11 people arrived.  We had made a huge crock pot of beef stew with a five-pound package of defrosted stew meat. By the time the group left, the stew was decimated. The pumpkin bread finished.  The macaroons had evaporated.  And three dozen chocolate chip cookies were gone with the wind (although I still had plenty of dough).

By then, we had another crisis on our hands: the eggs. Two-and-a-half  dozen came up with other fresh groceries for the Wednesday shift change.  Although the Observatory wasn’t hosting any overnight trips, we knew that those eggs could quickly disappear if the observers ate eggs for breakfast.  That would mean no eggs for baking, or for a meal like a quiche for vegetarian visitors (or for the observers).

We debated on whether or not to hide the eggs, and tucked the larger package behind some other food in the pantry fridge. Not exactly hidden, but not in plain sight either. At first, the eggs seemed safe, but then when the two IT observers came up for a couple of nights, the eggs started to rapidly disappear.  These were men who liked their eggs; they even found the ones we had concealed.

Suddenly, we went from 2-1/2 dozen eggs to only six.  We took charge and hid the eggs.  But we felt bad about depriving the egg-centric staffers. They were working on the servers non-stop while they were here, stopping only to grab a bite to eat or get some sleep. When they are hungry, they want to eat what they want to eat. The observers definitely appreciate the volunteers cooking their evening meal, but if we weren’t here, they’d get by just fine.  The volunteers, however, are essential for cooking for the day and overnight trips. We need to take stock of what’s available and plan the regular evening meal as well as the visitor lunches and snacks.  If push comes to shove, we can get by too.  We can make something other than quiche.  We can cut back on the baking.  But we know that the group as a whole likes the baking and the quiche.

Once a big hunk of meat is defrosted, we have to figure out how we can use it all within a couple of days. The frozen broccoli is actually pretty good.

Once a big hunk of meat is defrosted, we have to figure out how we can use it all within a couple of days. The frozen broccoli is actually pretty good.

Fortunately, no one needed to fight over the English muffins.  Or the pork tenderloins (at least a half-dozen in the freezer).  Apples and bananas were dwindling fast, but even with the blueberry pie, we hadn’t made a dent in the frozen blueberries.  No blood would be shed over frozen broccoli, although we consumed several 32 ounce packages (it was pretty good).  And there was no need to hoard the piles of frozen green beans, peas, and asparagus, or the potatoes and onions. Just the eggs.

In addition to the items already mentioned, here is a sample of our menus thus far:

  • Turkey tetrazzini, made with a huge hunk of leftover turkey breast cooked by the previous volunteers;
  • Beans and rice with sausage, corn and peppers;
  • Pulled pork (which I made for the first time ever with this recipe I found online, and it came out great);
  • Spaghetti with meat sauce, made from part of a five-pound tube of defrosted ground beef;
  • Hamburgers melted from the same tube of beef;
  • Lentil soup;
  • Tofu with veggies and rice.

Today we are making tuna melts for the visitor lunch. For tonight’s meal, chicken breasts are defrosting in the freezer for a low-fat version of chicken broccoli alfredo. Before going to bed, I’ll put pork tenderloin in the crock pot to make a pulled pork lunch for tomorrow’s visitors.

The servers are up and running again. The weather instruments are feeding their data into the computer.  The world is getting the information it needs out of the Mount Washington weather station.  The IT guys have left. The eggs are safe.

Cat vs. Camel: An epic battle on Mount Washington provides an opportunity to write about Marty

 

Marty on his Mount Washington throne (photo by Brian Clark, a former MWOB observer).

Marty on his Mount Washington throne (photo by Brian Clark, a former MWOB observer).

Marty, the Mount Washington summit cat, has been an elusive animal this week, slipping in and out of the Observatory staff quarters only to eat and use the litter box.  Apparently he has a friend who stays in the State Park employee quarters, and that person is working this week, so Marty is spending much of his time next door, playing with a new toy, or maybe hiding from new summit volunteers.

I did manage to snap his photo after he one of the weather observers captured him yesterday for a brief appearance in an educational videoconference with a group of pre-school children.

Marty, the observers tell me, is extremely territorial, and defends his mountaintop kingdom against all other animals, especially dogs, who tend to slink away when confronted with his stare down and hiss.  He even beat up a camel, back in 2009, when Josh the camel walked up the eight miles up the Auto Road with his handlers to stake a claim on being the first camel to climb Mount Washington.  Marty didn’t hurt the camel, but in the showdown between the two, the camel backed off when confronted with Marty’s hiss and arched back.

As the camel settles in for a rest, Marty strides over to show it which mammal rules the mountain. (MWOB photo by Cara Rudio, July 8, 2009).

As the camel settles in for a rest, Marty strides over to show it which mammal rules the mountain. (MWOB photo by Cara Rudio, July 8, 2009).

Marty is the latest in a series of legendary summit cats at the Mount Washington Weather Observatory, going back to 1932, when the staff first brought in a stray cat to control the mice population.  Marty, a Maine Coon, came to the mountain in 2008, from the North Conway Humane Society, after winning the first-ever Mount Washington Mascot Primary.

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Marty racing past the precipitation can, which is used to measure the hourly precipitation on the mountain (Brian Clark photo).

Winter is tough on Marty. His playground is reduced from anywhere he wants to explore to the building that houses the Observatory and the State Park facilities. For an indoor cat,  this space is cavernous, with endless nooks and crannies to explore. For a mountain cat used to living free, the space, I imagine, feels cramped and claustrophobic.  Marty gets anxious and irritates his fur and skin with excessive licking, so now, in the winter, he takes a mild steroid a few times a week to calm his cabin fever.

A great shot, also by Brian Clark, of Marty jumping upon a rail.

A great shot, by weather observer Steve Welsh, of Marty jumping upon a rail.

Former weather observer Brian Clark had a reputation of being the “cat whisperer” and took many wonderful photos of Marty during his time on the mountain; to see more of them, review his Accuweather blog entries, “All About Marty the Cat,” and “My Favorite Pictures Part 4 Summit Cats“.

Marty looks out over Wildcat Mountain.

Marty takes in the view of the Presidential Range (Brian Clark photo).

I hope to get a few more photos of my own of Marty, but I’m a realist. I’m just another one of the legions of Marty fans on the mountain and around the globe (see the MWOB Facebook page, and the number of “likes” any shot of Marty garners). Maine Coons are usually people lovers, but Marty doesn’t cozy up to just anyone.  This cat encounters a constantly changing set of visitors, both in his quarters and outdoors. Although the weather observers are a stable presence, they come and go in their one-week shifts, making it hard for a cat to bond with a best friend. But as I  have been writing this entry, Marty has come out of hiding. After some slinking around, he cautiously hopped onto the couch where I am sitting. Now he is dozing on the cushion next to me, about a foot away. This is day three on the summit; maybe, just maybe, by the week’s end, Marty will call me a friend.

P.S. Later that night, while I was sitting on the couch and watching a movie, Marty settled in a step closer.  I think I even heard him purring.

 

The world’s worst weather: Bring it on!

This snow cat, Inga, lives at the Observatory. The summit cats mostly stay indoors during the winter.

This snow cat, Inga, once lived at the Observatory (Inga had a good run, but is no longer alive). The summit cats mostly stay indoors during the winter (MWOB photo).

Spending a week in January on a mountain billed as having the world’s worst weather isn’t everyone’s idea of a good time.  But, I say, why go to an all-inclusive resort in Cancun with everyone else in the world when I can have an all-inclusive experience at the Mount Washington Observatory for the cost of a warm hat and a new pair of heavy-duty mittens?

I’ll be leaving Kittery well before sunrise next Wednesday to catch an 8 a.m. Snow Cat ride up the Auto Road, a six-mile trip that can take up to four hours in the winter.  My all-inclusive deal includes work as a volunteer cook (along with a friend) for the Observatory crew and others who might be at the summit (sometimes up to 20 people in very close quarters). Drinks are strictly BYOB. If the stream of visitors (EduTrip guests, state park construction workers, and others) is non-stop, my friend and I could be working 18-hour shifts with only mini-breaks, but the schedule thus far suggests that we will have plenty of free time to enjoy winter views from the Rock Pile.

Nin, another legendary Mount Washington cat, pictured here enjoying a rare blue-sky afternoon. (Nin is also among the departed).

Nin, another legendary Mount Washington cat, pictured here enjoying a rare blue-sky afternoon. (Nin is also among the departed).

Of course, I hope to do some hiking around on the 6,288-foot summit during my week-long stay  But whether or not we get outdoors for more than a few minutes at a time depends on the weather. Winter brings bitterly cold temperatures to the mountain, but wind is the main factor in determining how often and how long we can stay outside.

Mount Washington, according to the Observatory, holds the record for the highest surface wind speed ever recorded by a person, at 231 mph, in a wild storm in April 1934.  Most mountain weather watchers, however, know that a higher speed of 253 mph was recorded  in April 1996 when Tropical Cyclone Olivia passed through Barrow Island, Australia.  A 2010 review by the World Meteorological Organization confirmed the Olivia wind speed as the world record, but the Observatory bases its claim on the fact that a human actually recorded the measurement during the wind event.

Today the temperature at the mountain is 12 degrees, with winds of about 12 mph and freezing fog (i.e. zero visibility). So far this month, temperatures at 6,288-foot mountain have ranged from -24 degrees F, with hurricane force wind gusts, to a record high of 40 F.  Hiking above treelike, I’ve encountered wind gusts of “only” 45-50 mph and those gusts will keep me standing even if I lean hard into the wind.  “Hurricane force” will be a new experience.

These photos from a March 1953 issue of Life magazine offer a good preview of what I can expect; my photos will be in color, but otherwise probably much the same.

Although I expect to be safe and snug in and near the Observatory, Backpacker magazine has billed Mount Washington as one of “America’s 10 Most Dangerous Hikes.” The mountain also regularly shows up on lists of the 10 most dangerous mountains in the world.  More than 130 people have died on the Mountain (although this list includes deaths on the mountain from natural causes and suicide).

Part of the danger stems from the fact that thousands of people climb the mountain each year, and many are not fully prepared for rapidly changing weather conditions that can occur on the mountain’s upper slopes. But while inexperience and ill-preparation contributes to the mountain’s foreboding reputation, the conditions on the mountain itself account for much of the danger: whiteouts and fog create scenarios in which a single misstep can send hikers hurtling over the edge of deep ravines or into crevasses, especially in Tuckerman’s Ravine.

Tuckerman's Ravine in the spring (M. Sheppard photo, Wikipedia Commons).

Tuckerman’s Ravine in the spring (M. Sheppard photo, Wikipedia Commons).

In the spring, hundreds of skiers make the trek up to the lip of Tuckerman’s Ravine, then strap on their skis and push themselves over The Headwall to ski down the steep slope into the bowl.  Watching these skiers drop over the ravine’s edge, it seems impossible that they won’t be killed, especially if one of them falls. Over the years, several have died from falls. In 1994, a skier was killed after completing her run when an ice boulder bounced into the bowl and struck her.  Several hikers also have died in falls or avalanches while hiking in or just above the ravine.  2012 was an especially bad year when on three different occasions, hikers  — all experienced and well-prepared — slipped on the edge of the Ravine and fell to their deaths. Just recently, two winter hikers above Tuckerman’s Ravine triggered an avalanche and slid 800 feet with the snow. Both were very lucky to survive with minor injuries. As winter hiking has become more popular, every winter brings reports of hikers slipping, falling or getting lost in the massive folds of the mountain.

I’ve double-checked the gear list: new mittens, borrowed micro-spikes and plenty of microlayers.  Thank goodness I still have my 1990s Michelin Man down jacket, completely unflattering, but it will keep me warm. I don’t own an apron, so will throw in an extra t-shirt to wear while cooking. I’ll pack sneakers, as my best shot at exercise may be walking laps inside the closed state park building.

Bitterly cold temperatures and hurricane force winds. Cabin fever.  The possibility of non-stop cooking in a tiny kitchen. The potential for a week of nothing but a constant view of gray fog from the observatory window.  Why go at all?

I can’t fully explain the pull of winter on top of Mount Washington.  It’s my way of experiencing Antarctica, I suppose, of pushing the boundaries of my life, but in my own way. I will never ski down Tuckerman’s Ravine.  I lack the expert skiing skills to make it safely down the ravine. Even if I possessed those skills, the thought of going over that headwall rim is way way too scary.

But I know I can size up a pantry and create some good meals with whatever I find.  I can bundle up and stay warm — at least for  a while — on a minus-30 degree day.  I can conquer cabin fever with books and writing and a few episodes of Lost.

So, Mount Washington — bring on your worst, or your best, or, ideally, a mixture of both.  I’ll be ready.

Sources and resources

I will try to post daily updates while on the mountain, provided the internet isn’t all clogged up.  In the meantime, enjoy this Mount Washington time-lapse photography video, by Weather Observer Mike Dorfman.

And if you are interested in experiencing the world’s worst weather — and dealing with the highs of crystal clear perfect days and the cabin fever of days on end when you can’t even leave the cramped quarters of the observatory — consider dusting off your cookbooks and becoming a member of the MWOB .

For additional information on those who have died on the mountain, see MWOB’s article, Surviving Mount Washington.

For more photos of Nin and Inga, see the MWOB Creatures of Comfort Photo Gallery.

For a gripping account of the dangers on Mount Washington, I highly recommend Nicholas Howe’s 1999 book, Not Without Peril.

The Mount Washington Avalanche Center provides daily updates on changing snow conditions on the mountain.

Friends of Tuckerman’s Ravine offers many great photos, history and other information about this beautiful place on Mount Washington.