With all the rain and ice making for a pretty dismal winter in Willow, I wanted to go see how spring was progressing in Hatcher Pass. I drove up April second, but not having four-wheel drive- when I got into slushy snow about a mile past the winter gate, I parked and switched to skis. My dogs-Lyra and Darby- were thrilled, but I soon found that the ice bridges across the creek had all collapsed and I couldn’t get out where I wanted to go. I had to pick my way along on top of the snow machine trail beside the road. That wasn’t much fun, and after about a mile and a half, I turned back. I decided to make the trip again later in the month.
I had been waiting for sunshine in the mountains, and enough free time to make the trip, and that all came together on the twenty-fifth. Another event had happened on the twenty-third that had brightened my life considerably. Because of circumstances involving allergies, I hadn’t been able to have a pet hen while living at the ranch, so it has been a long eleven-year wait to bring another Banty hen into my life. A few weeks ago I had joined a group on line called Alaska Flock Talk & Swap. I had posted a request for a pet hen and on Earth Day, the twenty-second, I brought home a little blond and gray Banty hen. I named her “Jessa” and the very next day she took her first long car ride with me and the dogs when I needed to make a trip up to Talkeetna. She rode in her small crate, in which she roosts at night, and also where she lays her eggs. After my errands were run, I loaded her in her carry-bag and we made our first short hike to Number Lake. It was still frozen and the dogs ran out on it a little ways, me keeping a careful eye on them. Jessa rode quietly in her carry-bag like she’d been doing it all her life. It has mesh sides, so she can see out. It straps to the front of my body, and she has enough room that she can stand up and turn around, if she wants. Even a little zippered pouch for a baggie of her food and treats. It’s made to carry a small dog, and so has a drawstring top. I don’t use the drawstring, but instead attached a soft mesh screen so Jessa can see out the top, but not fly out. I can lift ip the screen to have access to the inside. I lined the firm bottom of the bag with a soft cloth for Jessa’s comfort. So far, it meets with her approval.
I put the bag in the car for the return trip to Hatcher Pass, along with Jessa’s roost crate. I decided against skis, as I didn’t have an abundance of time available, and wanted to see how far into the mountains I could drive.
The road had been plowed down to dirt, and the snow had melted down quite a bit since my last trip. On the second, the creek had still been sealed under deep ice and snow, but now it was racing between blocks of jumbled snow and ice piled along the shorelines. I drove slowly along the road, savoring the scenery. I let the dogs out to lope along and enjoy some good exercise now and then. When I would load them back up, they were happy to lay down and rest for awhile. Jessa was doing fine. Out of her crate, she watched the scenery scrolling past the windows. Whenever I let her out, she’d scratch in the dirt and grass alongside the road while I took a break.
Driving slowly along the creek, a movement caught my eye at water’s edge. I stopped the car. Sure enough, it was a Water Ouzel, or American Dipper. The little gray bird was across the creek from me at first, plying the rushing water for insect larvae and other food, which it brought up after diving in repeatedly. Then it flew across to my side. It flitted from rock to rock, dipping its body a few times after landing. I kept track with it as it worked its way downstream. To my delight, it landed on a flat-topped boulder on which was a small pile of moose nuggets, deposited there during the winter when a moose had paused while crossing the snowbound creek. The nuggets had melted down through the snow and nestled on top of this boulder. The ever-restless Dipper turned this way and that as it stood by the nuggets, and finally faced me for a few moments, giving me the perfect shot. Where else but in Alaska could I get a photo of a Dipper on a boulder next to moose nuggets?
Soon after, the Dipper flew on down the creek and I sent a quiet “thank you!” after it and continued on up the road. Climbing up the switch backs, the snow got deeper and deeper. Winter still gripped the land up here. The only birds I saw were a few Magpies in the bare-limbed trees. While photographing one, I caught sight of a hawk in the far distance, working along the rock cliffs at the base of the mountains to the north. I hadn’t brought binoculars, so I couldn’t tell which species it was. A Raven flying by later made up the total number of bird species I saw that day. Still quiet, up in the mountains.
I stopped to let the dogs romp in the snow, and decided to place Jessa on a snow boulder for her first family portrait. Lyra and Darby haven’t bonded with Jessa yet, but they know to stay put until I release them, so it was a matter of being quick with the camera before Jessa flew back down to the road. Having a couple of Alaskan winters behind her, she’s unimpressed with snow, and took it all in stride.
I found the scenery more exhilarating the higher into the mountains we climbed. The sun made the snow glisten and we left all vestiges of bushes behind us. Up here, everything was still buried deep beneath a solid white blanket. Only the tops of huge boulders poked through the snow. I dared to hope maybe the road was open all the way to Summit Lake. But rounding yet another tight bend, my hopes ended with a solid wall of snow in front of me. To my right was the gate across the road, barring access to Hot Shot Mine. There was a small area in which to turn around. Had I brought my skis, this would have been the spot to switch to them and ski on up to Summit Lake. Instead, the dogs got out and raced up the steep sides of the snow berms left by the plow. When I rolled down the window, Jessa perched on the sill, then flew down to the road, to scratch in the dirt, laced with mud from the melting snow. I took Jessa out to a boulder and had the dogs join her for one portrait before the sun disappeared behind a dark cloud bank moving in from the southwest. It was time to head back.
With that much snow still up near the summit, I think I can go for a ski in Hatcher Pass in another week or so. Looks like I’ll be able to pull out a good ski trek this spring, after all.
Susitna Writer’s Voice, KTNA~Robin Song
Springtime Trip To Hatcher’s Pass
(April 25, 2016~Jessa’s First Trip)
