We had planned to take a hike that day with our friends, Ryan and Lindsay, but had assumed it would be up Barometer Mountain (the one that we can see from our living room view) since Barometer is a very common hike that we hadn't embarked on yet. Over lunch with our friends, we decided that Barometer might be a little tough (it goes straight up and there are spots where you literally have to crawl) and that Kashevaroff might be a little more up our alley. Well, I should say might be a little bit more up the girls' alley: Ryan and Joe are in excellent shape but Lindsay and I needed some more practice.
The trail starts off as a 4-wheeler track so it is easy to navigate, but it stays at a relatively steep incline and does not have switchbacks.
It was discovered early on that Lindsay and I were not going to be able to keep up with the super-speedy guys so we hiked at our own pace while the guys hiked a bit ahead of us. They never let us out of their sight, however, being the loving and protective guys that they are, and we enjoyed being able to stop when needed to catch our breath or enjoy viewing a winding river or interesting plant.
The guys chatted nonstop in an attempt to get to know one another (they had just met that morning) and Lindsay and I chatted nonstop about anything and everything we could think of simply because that is what girls do. The air temperature was absolutely perfect and the sunshine was gently warm on our skin. The pleasantness of the whole situation helped shroud the burn we felt in our hamstrings and lungs as we ascended the trail.
About two-thirds of the way up the trail the landscape took on a more tundra-ish feel, with low-lying plants and an absence of trees, and the trail we were following became covered in snow. Overall the area wasn't snowy, but the particular area where the path meandered was, so we began blazing our own trail over the rock covered terrain.
The ground was squishy with lichen and moss and it seemed to glow with beautiful greens, yellows, browns, and pinks.
The rocks were craggy, yet easy to navigate. Lindsay and I kept looking up at the seemingly far away peak, thinking we would be turning around at any point to head back down the mountain but he guys plodded on, and we followed.
We were tired but our energy seemed to magically increase as we got closer and closer to the top of the mountain. Lindsay and I reached a point where we knew we weren't stopping until that goal was reached and it fueled our excitement to know that we would soon be able to feel the sense of accomplishment that would come with having no further to go. Through groaning breaths, we kept reminding each other about how wonderful it would be to stand at the top - something neither of us had done before or had really expected to do that day.
And a wonderful feeling it was. The world stretched out in beautiful blues, greens, whites, and browns for what seemed like forever. To one side was the city of Kodiak, to another was an endless landscape of snow-covered mountains. The trek to the top had taken us just over 3 1/2 hours.
We were joyfully standing at the top of it all.
And then we were silly standing at the top of it all.
The guys went off to search for signs of Mountain Goats (that they hopefully intend to hunt at a later date) and Lindsay and I just soaked up the views from the top. It was a moment of forced appreciation for Kodiak and what it has to offer. There were no thoughts of rain, jobs, or messy houses - the bigness of what we were seeing crowded everything else out.
The boys barely made it back from their precarious ridge-trekking adventure with a small tuft of what we presumed to be mountain goat hair. There was hope that this might be a good place to return to for hunting later on in the season.
We started back down the mountain on an emotional high, with the powerful drive of grumbling tummies longing to be satiated with sushi motivating us to keep a steady pace.
The trek down was relatively easy, albeit quite hard on my knees with the steep angle of the path. Halfway down we were entertained by some Ptarmigan that allowed us to watch from a very close distance as they cooed and chased and flirted. I felt like were were watching a National Geographic special. The guys wished they had their guns. Ptarmigan are good eating.
We made it to the bottom in just under 2 hours. They sky had clouded over a little bit and and when we turned to look back up the mountain it seemed so distant. It was hard to believe we had just conquered it. Kashevaroff had taught me a lot about what I was capable of that day and had given the four of us a wonderful platform for strengthening what I hope to be long-lasting friendships.
Oh, and we made it back to town just in time for sushi before the restaurant closed. Tummies satiated!
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