A Chick in Alaska!

 The last weekend in July, I flew to Anchorage, Alaska for my friend Katie’s wedding. I had two other girlfriends who were going, and I met several other amazing women once I got there. We traveled in a pack of about 12 women (Chicks!) the majority of the time I was there. The wedding festivities were great fun and the ceremony was beautiful, but what thrilled me the most was that I was in Alaska. Every once in a while, a member of our group would remind the others, “we’re in ALASKA!”, just in case the rest of us had forgotten. In true Real Chick fashion, I couldn’t wait to see as much as possible of the beauty and adventure that Alaska has to offer.

The first night I arrived in Anchorage, I was on my own. I landed at 10:45 p.m. and the sun was still out! It was almost 2 a.m. “my time” so I hit the sack, looking forward to a run the next morning. After I woke, I was so pleased that it was about 55 degrees with no humidity—in Nebraska, we were suffering through a heat and humidity wave. I enjoyed my first and only (so far) Alaskan run, and was happy that I didn’t see any wildlife. Don’t get me wrong, I looked for a moose the whole time we were there; I just wanted to see it from afar. We were lucky enough to see one on our last day there. Yikes!

Katie knew that most of us had not visited Alaska before, and she was happy to lead us on a hike up Flattop Mountain. According to the all-knowing Wikipedia, Flattop is a 3,510-foot mountain located in Chugach State Park just east of urban Anchorage, and is the most climbed mountain in the state. We had the option of choosing one of two trails, and we went with the shorter one which would be easy for our entire group. We did off-road it a bit, though, so we could climb the hill to touch the snow. In July! It was great to spend a morning with a group of hikers who were excited as I was to explore. Alaska is gorgeous—it seems as if the mountains rise straight out of the water. We were surrounded by trees and lush green grass, water and mountains, and cool, crisp air. Alaska is unlike any other place I’ve visited, and I know I can’t come up with words to do it justice—suffice it to say that I left there thinking Alaska is a very special place.

While I was still in the planning stages of this Alaska trip, I asked my friend Dan Randle for advice. Dan and his wife, Susan, run Nebraska Kayak Polo, and Dan used to be a river guide in Alaska. His eyes lit up when he heard I was going, and he asked me, “do you want to go on a whitewater trip that will scare the s$!# out of you?!” Well, duh. So, the morning of the wedding, again in true Real Chick fashion, I drove about 90 miles to Hope, AK to raft Six Mile Creek. Six Mile is a river that is approximately 10 miles long and has, so I was told, some of the most exciting white water rafting in Alaska. I was also told by the bride’s aunt, before I left to go rafting, that she’s never rafted Six Mile because “people die on Six Mile!”—but I chose to ignore that last part.

My friend Sarah was brave enough to join me, and quickly after we arrived in Hope, we donned the proper attire. For me, this included a long-sleeve technical shirt, two zip-up fleeces, two pairs of running tights, and a pair of wool socks, all under a full drysuit, shoes, pfd, and helmet. After our group of about thirty rafters was dressed, we hopped on the bus for the short drive to the river. We listened to a safety lecture, fastened our pfds and helmets, and took turns jumping into the river for the required swim test. The cold temperature and the strong current amazed me; I couldn’t believe that we were still in Class 0 water. I successfully completed the swim down the river and through the eddy, but not everyone was so lucky, and the guides were forced to go after a few who missed the turn and floated by. Some people opted out at that point, and the rest of us divided into small groups and filled 5 rafts. We were in oar-boats, in which the guides have more control over the boat through the use of oars, as opposed to paddle-boats, in which everyone paddles. We paddled as well, but because the river was so high, the oar-boats were used. If the river had been two inches higher, our trip would have been cancelled altogether. Safety first!

Six Mile consists of three canyons, each one progressively more challenging, with narrow routes, steep drops, and crazy rapids. Sarah and I chose to do the whole three-canyon run, which included predominantly Class 4 and Class 5 rapids. The rapids themselves had names such as Suck Hole, Predator, Merry Go Round, and Jaws. We learned what it meant when our guide said “High Side!”, and my favorite piece of advice was when, while we were running the river, he’d say, “Stay in. Stay in. Stay in….” The guides were amazing and their love for that river and for whitewater in general was evident. Rafting Six Mile is probably both the most dangerous and the most exhilarating thing I’ve ever done. I was surprised at how much it affected me, and although the awe has faded a bit as time has passed, I told my friends afterwards that the experience was life-changing. The river was beautiful and strong and relentless, and I feel so lucky to have rafted Six Mile and to have gotten a taste of Alaska—and I can’t wait to go back.