WILD

So I decided to submit a short essay and two/three pictures. Two of the pictures are from negatives and I only have the file from scanning one of them, so I need to go by the University and scan the other, I have been meaning to do so for weeks and it has been the only thing holding up posting this, so I decided it wasn’t worth waiting and I will have to add the last picture later.

Anyways, here is the written segment:

A pain throbs in my abdomen, I groan and rollover. I grudgingly submit to the pain and haul myself out into the cold. Needles shoot through my bare feet. I shift from side to side.
Relieved, I hurl myself back into the warm embrace of my sleeping bag and begin putting on the clothes kept warm as my pillow through the night. On my way out of the tent I kick the guys awake, “Sun’s up, lets eat.” Outside mist hovers over Eklutna, the 10-mile lake where we camp. Walking to a large hole in the ground, I reach inside; there, deep beneath the ashen remains of last night’s wild gala I am rewarded with lingering heat; coals to be reluctantly coaxed back to life.
As we finish our oats and rinse the pot, we debate the day’s route. One faction argues we head north, here we can see an easily attainable ridge, a trail visible through to well above the tree line, yet the peak overlooking said ridge appears to exceed our level of preparedness, with a ring of cliffs promising frustration for the casual backpacker. Still the ridge is sure to have a great view, and would not make a bad day hike.
The south is mysterious; a slope blanketed in alder turns an unsettlingly monotonous shoulder to inquiring eyes, and above this, a gently sloping ridge disappears into clouds. Based on previous observation we believe that Benevolent Peak lies beyond, an imposing presence to which the alder coated ridge before us is a mere toe. Indeed, here lies a potentially glorious achievement to crown our adventure.
Being young males, we goad each other into ambitious agreement; stashing the kayak and unnecessary gear in the woods, we depart. Tim and Cory pile into the canoe while Nat and I jog along the shore, headed south. After crossing Eklutna River, we haul the canoe into the first alders. Stashing life vests and paddles inside; we strike out east looking for some chink in the impenetrable alders. After half a mile along the steep bank, a dry streambed we stumble upon looks like Main St. Our little band sucks in a collective breath and turns uphill.
In less than half an hour the streambed dead-ends into a box canyon. We are forced into the alders. The alders are doom, they stretch along the ground, reaching with fat claws to trip you, then they turn up, but diagonally so that it is impossible to walk between them. What’s worse is they are not alone in their efforts; they have allied with devil’s club, an aptly named bane on any wilderness experience. Together the two of them knock hikers off balance and spear them, producing a demoralizing effect combatable only by song.
Water.
Five hours later, after many renditions of every song we know, and already at the time we had set to turn back, we have finally conquered the toe of Benevolent Peak. But we have exhausted our water, and while we have a purifier, the nearest stream parallels our route to the peak nearly a mile east.
We break for our first meal since breakfast, as calories disappear in the form of spoonfuls of crunchy peanut butter and honey, we consider our possible moves. In the end, instinct takes over; rather than run a diagonal between peak and water, we make a beeline for the stream. Out of the alders and on relatively flat terrain we make good time. At the stream, we gorge ourselves. Revitalized, we are eager to continue on, but by now it’s late, the sun is beginning to drop from the sky, and we are hours away from the peak. On the one hand, it is late May in Alaska and the sun will not dip much below the horizon, so an all night climb is tantalizingly possible. On the other, we are further than ever from camp, and it has been an undeniably hard day already. Without most of our gear, we decide not to chance it.
We head back, descending once more into the realm of flora, rife with denizens like alder and devil’s club. It is nearly as hard breaking out as it had been breaking in; but at last, hands bleeding, legs perforated by thorns, we stumble drunkenly onto the bank. We’d drifted even further east as we descended, and the trek back to the canoe seemed never ending. Around eleven, after well over twelve hours of strenuous activity, with barely the energy to pitch a tent, we reach our gear and collapse for the night.
That four-day trip to Eklutna is one of the highlights of my life, and the day of the “death hike” as that climb has come to be called, was my favorite. There is no better way to get to know yourself, and certainly no better way to bond with your friends, than pushing the limits of physical exertion and letting the wilderness strip away the disguises of the civilized world and feed the essence of what is really you.

And the photos:

Sometimes you need a place to escape to.

(picture of girl playing guitar in tree)
Sometimes you need a place to release.

And always a place to return from.

There are some really nice pictures in this thread. Nice job, both of you.