Resurrection Pass trail leads to new friendship

July 26, 2006

OUT AND ABOUT/Emily Forstner

Nature marvels us. Or is it Nature who marvels at us? Oftentimes, it is only there that we take the time to share and forge a link to others.

Ray Oldenberg, in &#8220The Great Good Place,” discusses a need for a third place: a public place aside from our first place - home - or second place - work. The third place is a friendly, neutral spot where people can relax, talk and take a break.

Parks and outside cafes or pubs are examples of third places. Third places are public places that keep people connected and remind us that we are social beings.

So it was in the Swan Lake public-use cabin this year, a great good place along the 39-mile Resurrection Pass trail between Hope and Cooper Landing on the Kenai Peninsula.

This was our third annual solstice Resurrection hike as a family, plus Dani, my daughter's trusty backpacking friend. Over the years, the U.S. Forest Service has continued to improve the trail's drainage, until the hike seems more like a walk through a gigantic park rather than a wilderness excursion.

&#8220Mom, someone is already in the cabin,” my youngest daughter said, looking back at me with surprise as we approached our destination, nearly 13 miles from the southern trailhead in Cooper Landing.

&#8220Oh bother,” I said. &#8220I was afraid of that.”

I believe every trip requires at least one important item to be left behind. This year, I forgot only two items, one being the cabin reservation receipt. The Forest Service recommends bringing on the hike the printed reservation to avoid the exact situation we were in now: cabin-crashers.

I stepped inside the small brown cabin to find a sturdy young woman in her early 20s. Her blond hair was tightly combed back into a neat ponytail. Her bedroll was unpacked, and a small fire warmed the cabin from the mist outside.

&#8220Do you have a reservation? We do, but I forgot the receipt,” I began.

I don't know who was more embarrassed or off guard, we or she. She had traveled alone on the trail for three days. She thought, being so late in the evening, the cabin was open.

&#8220I thought I got lucky,” she said.

I observed I could never hike alone. My daughters laughed and assured the stranger that I didn't hike with four people, bear bells and a gun without worrying. (Ever bear wary, I make certain we all have bear spray, whistles and bells. My husband, Pete, carries the gun. Along the trail I also like to read trivia questions loudly for the girls to answer equally loudly back. Needless to say, we don't see much wildlife.)

I noticed she had but two bear bells attached to her walking staff. I hesitated, but had to ask, &#8220Does your mom know you're here by yourself?”

We introduced ourselves, except for the barking border collie mix. She had been with our family for less than two weeks, and it was a risk taking her on the trail. Neither knew quite how to behave, the new dog to the family, nor the new family toward the dog. We weren't sure what to call her, either. We had tried Lady, but she wasn't very Lady-like. She herded people.

Cabin users are advised not to encourage said cabin-crashers. But all the same, we invited Kim to stay. There was plenty of room and lots of food, and she was all unpacked. Kim politely declined and set up her tent nearby. The next day, she planned to hike the five miles or so to Trout Lake cabin, spend another night and finish the trail the following afternoon on the Cooper Landing side.

In the morning, I decided to barter for my second forgotten item: toilet paper. I scored!

Kim exchanged TP for dried cherries.

Backcountry enthusiasts love to talk about their gear. We shared gear talk on water filters, stoves and packs. Kim, a 23-year-old Alaskan, certified mechanic and recent UAA graduate, was taking the summer off to backpack around the state - pretty much by herself. She was intelligent, soft-spoken and simply delightful.

The cabin porch protected us from the mist and occasional drizzle while we watched the dog race around like a speeding bullet and help my husband fish by hooking a lure in her mouth. The dog began to collect a variety of names, none of which resembled Lady.

New, wide canoes had replaced the leaky aluminum dinghies for the Juneau Lake and Romig cabin users at other points on the trail, but Swan Lake's boat remained a leaky affair. Still, the glass-like water beckoned. So Pete righted the boat and helped Kim go out for a row.

Early in the afternoon, we encouraged Kim to stay the day and eat with us rather than hike in the rain to Trout Lake. She agreed. And even if she didn't eat as much as I would have liked, we laughed and played cards until almost midnight.

I considered how often on a trail or in a campground we stop to say hello and pass the day with strangers, while at home we U-Scan at Fred Meyer and avoid all contact with people. We walk through a parking lot without one smile. We're plugged in, on the phone or online.

President Eisenhower is said to have recreated America with the passage of the interstate highway system in 1956. It allowed for a flow of trade and information that transformed how America worked.

Yet, don't underestimate the power of the National Trail System Act of 1968. It was on a trail that Kim traded for cherries, brightened an otherwise gray, drizzly day, and shared the Alaska spirit.

The dog barked goodbye at Kim early the next morning, but didn't try to herd her. She had helped welcome the new dog to the family as it torpedoed through giggling teenage girls, swam until it realized it wasn't a Lab after all, and rolled - not once, but twice - in something awful.

Kim had watched with us through the window at a bull moose that stampeded past Pete sitting in front of the cabin by the fire.

The dog knew. Kim was no longer a stranger - in this great and good place.

Emily Forstner, a veteran of the Mat-Su School District staff, is a frequent contributor to the Frontiersman.