North to Alaska - July 12 - 21, 2012

This is the last summer of my "two year" (4 summers!) NSF grant to study adaptation, or lack of same, of tundra plants in response to climate change, a substantial issue in Alaska, and in the arctic generally.  We re-visited two 30 y old transplant gardens set up in the late 70's/early 80's to re-measure the plants and examine sorting of genotypes along gradients by natural selection.  This has been a wonderful project, not only because of the science, but because of the opportunity to reunite with some of my favorite past collaborators and students - Ned Fetcher, Gus Shaver, Terry Chapin, Milan Vavrek, and Cindy Bennington, and introduce them to WVU grad students (Sara Souther, Zach Fowler, Jessica Turner, Jennifer Chandler) and a group of undergrads from Wilkes Univ, Stetson Univ, and Glenville State College.  This year, the crew consisted of Ned, Milan, Jessica, Jennifer and me.

Last summer was our 'big harvest' of cottongrass tussocks.  This year, we were focusing on 'my' plant, Dryas octopetala (see picture below). [reminder; you can click on the pictures to make them bigger - recommended esp for the wildlife shots]

We did several sets of studies: (a) re-measuring tagged shoots on plants for a 'demographic' model of shoot populations (repeating something I had done as a PhD student), (b) taking aerial photographs of the transplants, (c) measuring photosynthesis and respiration on them, (d) repeating a harvest of 'fellfield' vegetation done in 1977 to see if that vegetation zone had changed overall in the past 35 y, and (e) documenting the establishment of multiple genotypes in a disturbed area to show 'release' from selection.  I'll spare you the details of all of these, but suffice it to say, we got a lot of science done, thanks in no small part to being able to stay at Mile 101 camp, and to the hard work of the entire crew.

Mile 101 camp is one of the stops along the Yukon Quest sled dog race ($200,000 purse!); considered by some to be the toughest dogsled race in the world (even exceeding the Iditarod, due to cold and rough conditions).  Here's one of the thermometers on the side of a cabin...

After working hard for 4+ days, we treated ourselves to 2 days in Denali National Park.

I'll let the pictures do most of the talking...

Day 1; Great day for wildlife photography, and a 6 mile hike.

For those who have been to Denali, you know the 'thing' to do is to hop on a shuttle bus and take the trip into the park because you can't drive your personal vehicle.  We had tickets for the first bus of the day to Eielson Visitor center (2/3 of the way to Wonder Lake).  We planned to go on a hike and explore a new area of the park somewhere near Eielson.  The first 30 miles or so was rather dull and we saw little in the way of wildlife.  Then, suddenly we began seeing them in abundance!

A magnificent female grizzly and 2 cubs cavorting in the willows near the bus.

There were too many clouds to see 'the mountain' (typical of 95% of the days in the park!), but at Eielson, we discovered our planned hiking route blocked by another griz, who was hunting ground squirrels above the road:

So we hiked along the road for a couple of miles, all the while keeping a wary eye on this bear.  S/he kept his/her distance, and we eventually veered off the road up over a ridge toward a remote valley.  In less than a mile or so, we found a knoll and ate lunch where we watched as a moose warily ascended from the creek bottom about 200 yards away, then settled down for an afternoon nap.

After lunch we ascended a ridge to a high point and looked down into the mini-canyon formed by the stream.  There were some nice wildflowers, though this is not the high time of the year for them.  Need to be here in June for the real show.

Here's Ned Fetcher hiking up the ridge.

And Jessica posing over the canyon.

On the bus ride back, we saw more bears, and this female caribou acting crazy, snorting and running.  Our bus driver explained that this is in response to attempts by parasitic flies to lay eggs in its nostrils.  I think I'd snort and run too!

Also on the bus ride, we happened upon these Dall sheep in their usual habitat high up in the rocks, hiding out from wolves.

Then the bus turned a corner and encountered these boys...in the road.  They seemed like 20-something guys at a bar trying to decide what to do and where to go next...I can't cull the photos much - their expressions are just wonderful.

Then last but not least for Day 1...well, maybe they were least, in size at least, were the pikas, pointed out by our astute bus driver - a retired military guy with long hair, a raspy voice, and a wry sense of humor, who enjoyed pointing out the less-noticed critters, like grayling, and pika.

Well, Day 2 we weren't sure whether to hike or go all the way to Eielson and hope the view might be worth it.  The weather soon answered that question as the skies began to clear, the fog began to lift, and the mountains in the distance began to loom.  We decided, despite our wandering instincts, to stay on the bus and hope for a view.  We were soon rewarded, and the expressions on my students' faces as we topped a certain knoll en route to Eielson confirmed that we had made the right choice.

It was truly an awe-inspiring scene.

[click to make larger!]

There it was.  Denali (aka Mt. McKinley) in all its glory.

Just to prove we were there:

Now this would have been a sufficient be-all and end-all to a great trip, but when we got to Eielson, for me personally, this scene was augmented further by the presence of a glorious pair of golden eagles performing an aerial ballet IN FRONT OF DENALI!  One of those, 'you cannot be serious', 'are you kidding me?' 'I cannot believe what I am seeing right now' moments.  The pictures tell the story.

The only way to end this entry is with an image of 'The Great One'...

June 14 - Finally became an Adirondack 46R!

To say that the Adirondacks hold a special place in my heart is an understatement.  Every time I drive through or near them, a smile appears on my face and I feel at home.  Starting at about age 9 or 10, I began climbing the peaks of the Adirondack Mountains of upstate NY.  This turned into a near-obsession in my later high school years and formed the basis of my love of the outdoors and eventually ecology.  At some point along this journey I decided to climb all 46 peaks over 4000' and become an official Adirondack 46R.  I knew a few of these elite individuals growing up, and they always somehow seemed like towering figures to me.  From early on in pursuit of this goal, I decided to leave for last the most remote trailless peak; Allen Mountain.  Probably more than a decade ago, I finally climbed the last of the trailless peaks, leaving Allen alone as my final challenge.  With this most recent trip to New England and NY, the opportunity came with a prediction of fair weather and a spare day on my calendar.

I started out this adventure by going to Long Lake, NY, for a major gourmet burger to get beefed up for the long hike.

Then I found a camp site at Harris Lake, only 10 or so miles from the trailhead leading to Allen near Tahawus.  I had a lakeside site that was gorgeous!

Woke up at 4:44 AM the next morning!  Why so early?  Because this was going to be a long hike - perhaps my longest ever in one day.  And I was excited.  I quickly packed up sleeping bag, pad and tent, hurriedly ate my breakfast of granola bars, fruit and OJ, and hopped in IBRK4NRG to head to the trailhead by 5:30.  My first obstacle was a tree which had fallen across the road overnight.  But I noticed tracks on the shoulder around the crown and thought, what the heck, I have a Prius!  Offroad I went.  No problem.

Reaching the trailhead of the Yellow trail leading to Flowed Lands, the next obstacle became clear quickly - a large sign saying 'Bridge out at Opalescent River, 3.8 mi.'  Well the Opalescent isn't too huge; I could ford that.  So I packed up my gear in a day pack and headed out.  Within 0.2 miles I encountered my third obstacle - the Hudson River (headwaters, yes, but still a river!) with another sign "Bridge Out - Ford Here".  Hmmm.  Hurricane Irene of the previous fall had clearly done her damage here in the Adirondacks as well as in Vermont!  It looked deep.  I wondered what to do.  Take the longer route through Flowed Lands or ford this river too!  I re-checked the map and decided the hike via Flowed Lands was questionable for a one-day trip.  Ford it was.  I returned to the car to get my old running shoes which I had decided to sacrifice to the river gods.  Just then a Mini-Cooper pulled up and a gray-haired woman, only slightly younger than me, hopped out and said "You looking forward to your Allen climb today?"  Slightly startled I said..."Ah...yes! You?"  Sure am.  I then warned her the bridge at the Hudson was out as well as the Opalescent.  She said "Yes, I know, but the one over Lake Jimmy could be the worst of the 3".  Would the obstacles never stop appearing?

I plunged on into the river, as did she.  It was not as deep as it looked.  We both donned our shoes on the far side, and she took off running down the trail. Whoa!  Maybe this trail was farther than I thought, if you had to run to finish in one day!  I took off at a pretty quick walking pace.  Within half a mile, I reached Lake Jimmy and the 'floating bridges of doom'.  It was beautiful:

And treacherous.  Actually only the first bridge was bad; they were tied together loosely with straps, shoestrings and such.  One end of the first bridge simply sank when you approached it while the bridge you were supposed to hop onto, did not.  I ended up getting wet almost up to my waist and was quite glad I had placed my keys and wallet in my high pack pocket!  After this, the yellow trail was fairly easy to follow.

The hike was a cornucopia of sights, sounds and smells from my past, from the wildflowers, to the balsam fir trees.  Gray-cheeked thrushes, hermit thrushes, and veerys serenaded me as a walked through paper birch and spruce.

 Clintonia borealis  

                                                                Cornus canadensis


Once the hike left the Yellow Trail to head 'off trail' toward Allen it followed a well-trodden herd path for much of the way.  Directions in the latest High Peaks hiking guide were reasonably good.  As the path got steep and ascended seriously, I was following this streambed, slipping on muddy rocks and hanging onto branches to get past the worst spots.  Somewhere along this stretch, I encountered my fellow Allen Mt. hiker friend - she was on her way back down - fully 2 hours ahead of me!  But she was encouraging, suggesting the view would be well worth the climb.

At one point I was relieved to see nice dry rock to climb in the middle of the trail.  I started up, only to find that it was getting quite steep and there was absolutely nothing to hang onto.  Maybe this was a mistake!  But there was no turning back; I went straight up the middle on all fours, like a turtle.  Here is the rock:

Reaching the top, I noticed my heart was beating fast; I decided I would take a different route on the way down...

Another half an hour of strenuous climbing brought me out of the stream bed and onto a ridge top.  A few moments later, attaining the top was pure joy.  I yelled at the top of my lungs; "Yahooooo!!!"

The views were stupendous, the air was clear, the neighboring mountains my same old friends from long ago.  Front and center was Mt. Marcy, at 5344', as magnificent as ever.

These aren't the jagged, tall, rugged, spectacular peaks of the west, that I have also come to love; but the quiet rounded giants of the east, with bald tops and a remoteness and ruggedness all their own.

I took a half hour to munch on snacks and reflect on my journey to this point in time and space.  What a journey it has been.  Though I found myself alone on the mountaintop, I kept thinking about the people who have journeyed alongside me through my life, through the valleys, along the rivers, up and down mountains, to the arctic, the desert, to coral reefs, and to the tropics.  How amazing and wonderful it has all been.

The sound of a plaintive white-throated sparrow jolted my mind back to the present.  "Old Sam Peabody Peabody Peabody".  I smiled.  I remember telling my students as these little sparrows migrated through West Virginia in the spring - their songs would always make me think of my Adirondacks.

Mountain tops give you that unique kind of pleasure.  Associations with sights, and birds and plants that stick with you for life.  There truly is a 'heaven up histedness' that happens on these mountains, as Old Mountain Phelps used to say.  Maybe that's why I've always been attracted to them - that feeling I get, of pleasure, of perspective, of realizing I am on top of the world.  Of being home.



The trip down was somewhat anticlimactic.  I stopped to examine a beaver pond I had quickly skirted on the way up.

And contemplated the effects of these ecosystem engineers on so many other forms of life.

I returned to the car by 5:30 PM after 11 hours of hiking (plus 1/2 hr for lunch).  I don't know the precise distance of the  hike, but 18 - 20 miles seems about right.  I felt surprisingly good, and decided to go to Lake George for some dinner, and a celebratory beer.

Somehow, this particular beer seemed like just the right one from the menu.  Finally, I had become a 46R.  Here's the final bit of proof!

June 11 - Ann's 58th birthday celebration.  This was a fun one to plan and execute, and thanks to beautiful weather and Dad's generosity, it worked out perfectly.  I had secretly booked a luxury room at the Whiteface Lodge in Lake Placid NY.  Then arranged to swap cars with Dad in Plattsburgh and take a long and winding road up to our secret hideaway in Dad's HondaS2000 sports car.  Surreptitiously I was curious whether Ann might enjoy having such a fun little toy sometime later in our lives, but mostly it seemed like a fun way to spend an afternoon in the mountains.  And it was!  What an amazing car this is; and the mountains were beautiful.  This was followed by a wonderful dinner at the Lodge with Mom and Dad, followed by smores over a fire watching the sunset.  Great day!

Ian's Graduation; Boston, June 7-9, 2012

                                                   I don't feel any different?  Why all the fuss?

                                                    Walking with proud Mom

                                                   Quirky building at MIT where Ian worked

                                                   Important-sounding title

                                         Eating at the top of the Prudential Building!

                                                   Ian's advisor Stephanie

Landmark event; a 3rd straight generation of McGraws obtaining a PhD.  Ann and I were proud to be there to mark this rite of passage for Ian.  No PhD is accomplished without blood, sweat, and sometimes not a few tears.  It is one of those few accomplishments in society today with a ritualistic series of 'tests' leading to a final conferral of a 'status' that you carry with you the rest of your life.  Of course, it's easy to make too much of a 'degree' and in the end, the degree is not what is important, it is what it represents that is important - the ability of an individual to conceive a large original research project and carry it out from beginning to completion.  Congratulations, Ian.  We are super-proud of you!