The Journey and the Destination

You know how when you are in some kind of life crisis and someone (in my case, it was usually my dad) will say to you, "it's not about the destination, it's about the journey." Well, this field trip we took was about both, in the physical and spiritual sense.

On the sunniest and warmest day of our camp, we went on a field trip to Cape Thompson. We'd heard about the interesting terrain at Cape Thompson and we could see it from anywhere in Point Hope. 

Stevie regaled us with stories about climbing "Suicide Hill" (on fourwheelers) for days prior to our trip. More on that later, but suffice it to say, it sounded like a great trip to me. We also heard a lot about many adventures gathering Murre eggs. Apparently, one has to climb the cliffs to get to the nests where the eggs are. Sometimes one winds up in rather precarious positions strapped to lines that are held by your "friends." There you are, balanced on the side of a cliff with jagged rocks and pounding icy surf below you. Sounds like about as much fun as bungie jumping. (Maybe you like bungie jumping, and if so, you should probably volunteer to dangle for the Murre eggs.) Since it was too early in the year for egg gathering, we didn't experience that adventure, but I wasn't too broken-hearted about it.

We had a caravan of 7 four wheelers. Kind of reminded me of a motorcycle gang going on a long ride. We all got onto our respective rides and headed to town where we got gas. The cost of the gas went on one credit card, so we had to line up in a row, never replacing the pump in between each four wheeler fill up. Off we headed toward the Cape. The first part of our ride was dirt and gravel roads. It was still pretty early in the summer, so there was still a lot of ice on the beach. Normally, the ride follows the beach all the way, but we had to go inland a bit because the usual route was too snowy. Quite early on in the ride we encountered maniks. Traveling through this terrain was like skiing down a heavily moguled hill. It jarred every joint in the body and it was difficult to find the fall line (okay, it wasn't a hill, so it wasn't technically a fall line, but the premise was the same...finding the most direct route to the destination).
 

I followed Stevie closely so I wouldn't lose the line and wound up with some cool pictures of our "gang" as they caught up with us. We stopped often to "smell the roses" (as my friend Pausauraq would say). It was a long way out and took about 3 hours, but as we neared the Cape, the sun was warmer and the sky just kept getting bluer.

At one juncture of the trip, we came across a little creek that was kind of deep. Some of the guys scouted out a spot where we could all cross. Turned out, you had to get a running start, blast through the running water and get the four wheeler up a pretty steep bank. I sat on the other side of the crossing watching (with another camper on the back of the four wheeler) while we tried to figure out why we couldn't get our machine in neutral. From across the way, one of the guys yelled over to rock it a little...and that worked. Because of our delay, we were last to make the crossing. No one had made it up the steep bank without help from other folks in getting the machine over the last 6 or so inches of the embankment. Lucky me...all eyes were upon us, the last vehicle to try it (and don't forget, I am a novice rider).  Having a somewhat competitive nature (those who know me are rolling on the floor laughing at that understatement right now), I was plotting how I could clear the bank without assistance...just to show it could be done. I had my fellow camper on the back of my machine, so I did have a little grounding weight. I also had the advantage of less weight in the driver seat than anyone else. So I did what I normally do in these challenging types of situations, I gunned it and closed my eyes! Imagine my delight when I opened my eyes and we had made it to the top of the bank! After a 3 second celebratory cheer, we were off on the rest of our ride.

Imagine riding along an uninhabited stretch of beach with bits of ice floating in the water on a sunny warm day, when all of a sudden you turn to the left toward the mountains and there stands a house...in the middle of nowhere! It's not just any old house, as we find out that Stevie's brother has been a co-builder of this dwelling. How cool is that? We get to explore inside. Clearly thought went into where to place the house and which way it should face in order to reap the benefits of the location. The loft and the carvings inside were truly unique. 

As a bit of a "six degrees of separation" kind of story, it turns out that I met Stevie's brother in Barrow in the spring. He is an artist and has many pieces in displays of honor in several Alaskan places. In Barrow, he designed and sculpted some of the big ice carvings during the Spring festival that I wrote about a few months ago. 

Stevie's Brother, Art

I had taken lots of pictures of those and then had the honor of actually meeting the artist...the beauty of living in a small town. So having seen his work in Barrow earlier, I had no trouble recognizing the style of the carvings we found in the house. We stayed for awhile but were all excited to make our way to "suicide hill."

"Suicide Hill" so named for its steepness and unforgiving terrain was the only way to get to our destination. I must relate, our guides and our instructor were a little bit nervous about some of us (okay, me) being able to negotiate the hill. 

I, on the other hand, did not think it would be any harder than some of the trips I had done when I owned a motorcycle when I was "30-something." One just had to make sure one didn't stall out during the climb!  

Once I got to the top, I could say that I thought it actually looked steeper than it felt during the climb. The view was spectacular. Just couldn't get over how far we could see, what we could see, where we had been. 

Of course, this stop provided ample opportunity for both Stevie and Hank to regale us with stories of their past adventures in the area as well as history from these parts. At one point Stevie told me about a time when he'd been out in this area in the winter time on a snow machine. The weather was uncooperative and it was snowing and blowing, creating whiteout conditions. Now consider that we now have some mountains to contend with, whereas in the village the terrain is just flat. Being younger and apparently not as wise as he now is, as Stevie tells it, he proceeded driving his snow machine when he should have stopped and waited out the storm. All of a sudden he found himself sailing off the edge of a cliff into the snow below. Fortunately, there was nothing but snow to fall on and he didn't get hurt. It did take him a couple of hours to dig out the snow machine after that fall. 

Again, fortune was with him as it didn't suffer any damage and he was eventually able to make his way home. It was a good learning opportunity for him and I'm sure his story has cautioned many a young rider during the winter.

Our trip was complete with picnic, hot dogs, and s'mores. Some of our campers took this opportunity to claim fame to stepping into the Arctic Ocean. You won't see my picture among them. Though I have walked on the Ocean and in the Ocean (with boots on), I don't find a particular draw to wading or swimming in water that I know will take my breath away. More power to those who do become members of the Polar Bear Club. I believe the criteria include dipping your head under water...I'm getting chills just thinking about it. 

The meal was relaxed and gave us all time to relax and enjoy our surroundings some more before we headed out. Then it was back to camp in Point Hope. What I found during the trip back, was that I apparently missed the memo that went around that the object of the trip back was to go as fast as you could all the way back. I mean, we were screaming! It was really fun, and even though I did have it set at full throttle, I had the smallest machine and consequently was last most of the way. At one point, I couldn't even see where anyone was...not even their dust. Nonetheless, my rider and I arrived at camp within minutes of the rest of the "gang."