Gilbreth Girls Outing 2012: Day 1
(Horseback Riding/Cabin Camping near Resurrection Trail in the Kenai Mountains)
  July 22-26


Jeannette, Valerie, Vicki, Kathy (a.k.a. Mom), and Debbie at Bird Point, Turnagain Arm

We'd talked about it for several years--an outing with all the women on the Gilbreth side of the family (my mother, two aunts, and cousin).  British Columbia's wine country had been spoken of along with a few other potentials, but Jeannette finally had the idea that took flight: a horseback riding trip into the Kenai Mountains.  She'd done a short ride outside of Seward with Bardy's Trail Rides in 2011 and been impressed with the operation and the guide (Bree Bardarson) and with the stories of overnight trips into the Kenai Mountains to the Bardy's private cabins.  We discussed it over Christmas and by late winter had booked a four day/three night trip for the five of us in July.

When everyone met up in Anchorage Sunday evening, we commented about how natural it seemed for all of us to be there, as though we did this all the time (though this was the first time we'd all been together since 1997).  Four of us met up with Bree (who'd just gotten back to town) in the Costco parking lot to pick up saddle bags, then headed down the Seward Highway after picking up Vicki at the airport.  Knowing that our drive would take us past Turnagain Arm, I'd looked up the schedule for the bore tide and found that a medium level bore was scheduled to pass Bird Point (about half way down the arm) at 6:35.  We made it there about six, discovered that it was actually scheduled for about 7:00, and decided to stay and wait for it anyway.  We were riding with Ben and Jeannette's new camper, so Jeannette made us appetizers which we carried (along with cups of wine and water) up to the shelter where we chatted and shivered in the chill wind.  Jeannette and Ben presented us with wonderful long-sleeved t-shirts they'd printed for the occasion adorned with the words "A gal's get together" around the shape of Alaska and a woman on a horse and, on the back, a family tree with the five of us on it.....and a placeholder for Ben and Jeannette's baby, which had been conceived about two months prior, a clever way to announce the good news.

We headed out to the edge of the viewing platform a few minutes before the tide was meant to arrive.  Although the wave itself wasn't very large (maybe a foot or two high), it made a dramatic arc across the whole channel until it ran into the sandbars just in front of us.  There it broke into different sections as it rolled up the passages between bars, washing over shallow areas and creating unpredictable disturbances.  Where the arc continued in one channel, several gulls flew just above it and we wondered if the wave brought food.  After the bore tide moved on and the rest of the tide began to swallow the sandbars, we packed up and drove on, only to catch up to it right on the side of the road.  We pulled over again and watched it pass just beneath us, impressed with the disturbance it made (see photo and video). 

From there we drove on, all six of us in the diesel truck Ben and Jeannette had purchased in Fairbanks, stopping on the way for a lovely cow moose feeding on clover at the side of the road.  By the time we pulled into the Midnight Sun cabin complex  it was 9:00.  I settled up with the owners while everyone started to unpack and Jeannette and Ben cooked dinner.  Bree had provided us with five saddle bags--one for each of us--plus two extra bags, so I picked a bag and spread my gear on the table to get ready.  Four of the saddle bags were large nylon affairs with two small pouches on the side and a larger one in the middle where it rests over the horse's back.  I took the leather bag, which was smaller and lacked the central pouch.  Consequently, I took up about half of one of the extra bags, but we all wound up with plenty of room.  Since it was drizzling outside, we lined our saddle bags with garbage bags to keep our gear dry during the 16 mile ride the next day.  Everyone gathered in our cabin to eat fresh Kenai River sockeye salmon (caught by Ben and Jeannette), veggies, and rolls--a fantastic feast to start the trip.  Exhausted, I went to bed shortly thereafter while the others finished packing.

The next morning I got up at 7:30 and showered.  The cabin we stayed at was simple and adequate, one of four or five cabins, all built by hand, at the compound.  It was a little creaky (the door didn't latch) and narrow, but it had a hot shower, a table, two queen beds downstairs, and two twin beds in a narrow loft upstairs.  I think we maxed out the power in the morning trying to make coffee, but it served its purpose, and Jeannette was good enough to make delicious mini quiches for breakfast in the camper.  Like a fool, I'd read the website and pictured the cabins located miles up a quiet dirt road surrounded by wilderness.  In fact, our cabin was right on Seward Highway!  It was perfect for what we needed (only about 15 minutes from the trailhead), but not a place I'd spend a romantic weekend.

We loaded all our gear back into the camper at 9:15 and made it to the trailhead half an hour late at 9:30.  Bree and company were already there, but we needn't have worried about hurrying, as it took considerable time for them to finish prepping the horses (nine in all).  We wandered around watching the chaos and eventually mustered together for a quick briefing.  Bree assigned us horses, reminded us about how to steer, and showed us how to attach our saddle bags so we could do it on own for the ride back.  Eventually, everything was ready and she and her crew assisted us all in mounting up and adjusting the stirrups.  It was overcast, but not raining; I considered taking off my rain pants, but Bree encouraged me not to, for which I was grateful later.  Bree gave us each a bag lunch which we carried in our saddle bags to eat on the way as we were not planning to stop anywhere along the trail with such a long ride ahead.  We also had handmade leather canteens full of water hanging from our saddle horns. 

And at last we were off.  I was giddy!  The trail to Devil's Pass began in a wet, mixed deciduous-conifer forest, crossed several creeks, and wound up and down a few gullies.  The forest was comprised of aspens nestled by ferns and flowers neighboring denser spruce groves.  One particularly dark coniferous section full of fallen logs and dead wood seemed especially gloomy and unappealing and I considered how much more charming it would be in dry and sunny weather.  Eventually we started gaining a little elevation, breaking out into meadows along the mountainside lush with Indian celery as high as the horses' backs, blue joint grass, and swaths of lupines.  Between meadows we started to leave the larger trees behind in favor of dense patches of alders, many of which brushed against us wetly as we passed.  It drizzled for a while, so I donned my oilskin hat for about half an hour for the first and only time on the trip.  At the lead was Bree on enormous black Max (who looks like a war horse) followed by Gus and Orca, the two pack horses.  Ranger and I were next in line and for a while I had to convince Ranger not to pass the pack horses (apparently he usually walks at Max's heel).  Ranger was the old man of the group at 23 years (evidenced by gray hairs around his face and sunken temples).  Bree said she kept thinking she was going to have to retire him, but he just kept getting stronger.  Behind me was Jeannette on Frisco (the same horse she'd ridden in Seward), Vicki on Ebony, Valerie on Kona, my mom on L'amor, and Jessica (Bree's young assistant) on Scout.

After about an hour we started to gain more elevation, went up a few switchbacks, then straightened out at a gentle grade.  We could see our valley far into the distance.  The vegetation remained alders, ferns, salmonberries, goat's beard, and grass for some time (see photo to left), the horses grazing as well as they could on the way.  Bree told us they were allowed to graze as long as they didn't stop; Ranger was so keen on being as far forward as possible that this was never much of a problem for me, but the horses farther behind were a little more food motivated and, along with the inherent stopping and starting which builds as it passes down the line, wound up causing the other horses to trot fairly often to catch up to the horse in front of it.  As we went, we ate delicious cream cheese/bagel sandwiches, peanut butter pretzels, and other snacks.  After a couple of hours, we finally broke out into meadows above tree line with phenomenal displays of mid-summer flowers.  Just the abundant yellow paintbrush, purple geraniums, and blue lupine mixed together were stunning, but among them were red columbine, pink nagoonberries, purple violets, and a plethora of other flowers I can't name.  It seemed like every time we went around a corner another flower would join the group.  The father up we got, the more that tundra/alpine became the dominant ecosystem and the fields of wildflowers and grasses were replaced with big patches of white lichen and moss with more modest saxifrage and other alpine flora.  We were still winding our way along the side of the mountain in the same valley, looking for wildlife on the opposite hillside, down in the creek bed (which was more brushy), and above us on the mountain.  Most of the peaks were round and gentle, but a few of the taller, jagged mountains were in view on our side (their tops obscured by clouds) and we saw two groups of what were likely mountain goats.  In the alpine we also started to hear the screams of hoary marmots (or "whistlers" as Bree said they were called locally) and we saw quite a few of them watching us or scampering up the slopes over the next couple of hours, and heard many others that we never saw. 

Devil's Pass turned out to be rather undramatic as far as passes go.  There had been no significant last minute elevation gain to reach it, but instead of cutting along the side of the mountain as we had been up until that point, we were now crossing a relatively level area between peaks.  A very chill wind blew and kept my right glove on my left hand (where I held the reins) and my right hand in my pocket, having dropped the other glove early on.   My feet also began to get cold, but I knew we were lucky enough to have dry weather at all, as Bree described a trip that was stormy from start to finish and we'd begun the trip in rain.  The far side of the pass split into two valleys--we took the left valley and passed along a series of ponds and creeks that showed evidence of beaver activity (which surprised me, as there was only brushy vegetation nearby).  Marmots continued to scream at us and we saw a mother duck and a handful of ducklings in one of the ponds.  We also gently crossed a couple of snow patches, larger than usual following the heavy winter snowfall and cool summer.  On the second one, Ebony pulled away from the group a little and suddenly Jessica was yelling for Vicki to kick her.  Before she had time to process that, Ebony had started to roll, gently laying Vicki in the snow, then bolted down the line to Bree (Bree thinks the jacket tied to her side spooked her).  I would have guessed that a rolling horse would result in a broken leg, but apparently it generally results in a gentle dismount!  Vicki mounted back up and we continued down the far side of Devil's Pass, descending back into wildflowers and scrub.  Soon the trail spilled us into a valley at right angles to our own and we encountered the famous Resurrection Trail; a Forest Service cabin sat alone nearby with windows that offered sweeping views down the wide valley toward Cooper Landing. 

We turned right instead and followed Resurrection Trail to Resurrection Pass.  Bree asked us if we'd like to walk to horses for a bit, and we all gratefully accepted.  It felt wonderful to walk (and fun to lead Ranger), and warmed up my frigid toes.  We were about three quarters of the way there and, for the first time riding a horse, I was eager for the ride to end!  Not that I wasn't having a wonderful time, but we were all a little weary.  Six hours on a horse is a long time, and we later discovered that all of us were having trouble with our stirrups, feeling as though they were pulling our legs in at unnatural angles and causing some numbness.  We soon mounted up again and crossed Resurrection Pass, a similarly unassuming alpine pass between mountains.  Shortly thereafter, we left Resurrection Trail and headed down the "secret trail" to camp, which first descended to the bottom of the valley (on our left), crossed the creek there, then ascended the low ridge on the far side.  The other side of the ridge sloped gently down toward the bottom of a valley where we could see two cabins among scattered spruces.  Beyond our turnoff, Resurrection Trail had turned to the right and headed down the same valley we had just entered, which goes all the way to Hope; however, our camp was far enough up the valley that it was beyond the reach or knowledge of most hikers.

We rode through brush, a combination of willow and an unidentified shrub of similar stature, and at last walked into camp.  Jessica and Bree hastened to tie and unbridle the horses while we removed the saddle bags and blankets and started poking around.  The compound consisted of two cabins about 100 feet apart with a roughly square area between them that was clearly less wild than the surrounding vegetation.  Two corners were defined by hitching posts (see photo to left).  The place looked a little wild (in that the grasses there were all grown up); in fact, Bree told us that the last party to go there had come by snow machine in March, so there was no telling what we'd find!  But, the cabins had been there for 90 years and had new roofs and new foundations, so there was little doubt they'd still be standing.  We helped hang the horses' blankets on wires on the porch of our cabin, then helped brushed them.  Shortly after all the horses were tended and loose, we had a bizarre encounter.  Jeannette was the first to spot two people on horseback coming up the trail from the river.  She alerted Bree who quickly grabbed Max's harness.  He and several other horses nearby were standing at attention watching the intruders.  Bree waved the riders off and told them to go around, as she had loose horses there; apparently the Bardy herd can get territorial.  Bree thought they were probably planning to stay the night at the cabins and we were a rude surprise to them.  I wonder where they wound up overnighting?

When our usefulness outside was exhausted and we'd had the tour of the outhouse and guest/cook cabin (where Bree and Jessica were to stay), we explored our cabin while our hosts continued with their chores.  Our cabin was the main one (Harry A. Johnson's own) which was at the back (uphill) side of the compound.  It felt low-ceilinged and rustic; most of the furniture was original and the walls were covered in 1920s newspapers, many of which were torn and falling apart.  The floor was covered in shredded spruce cones and bits of mattress, evidence of squirrel activity.  We set about sprucing the place up, sweeping off the counters and the floor.  Bree told us that the sleeping bags were in the attic so we lowered the ladder and Vicki and my mom ventured up.  They found all kinds of interesting things up there including a cozy squirrel's nest, bags of feed, old feed bags with our bedding inside, and an army cot.  Before long we had our bedding laid out, pillow cases on the flat pillows, and a fire going in the wood stove.  Bree had warned us that the cabin quickly becomes a sauna with the wood stove going, but we all agreed that the cabin needed a fire to take the chill off, and we were still a little chilly ourselves.  Gunny, the golden retriever who'd romped his way up there with us, collapsed in exhaustion for a brief time in front of the fire.  The horses dominated our view out the window that overlooked pasture (see photo to right), which was totally delightful; even more amusing was the presence of a horse nosing around on the porch almost every time we opened the door that evening.  The culprit was primarily the red and white pinto Scout, who was visiting the cabins for the first time and seemed quite interested in our low porch and its tin box of horse food.

Outside we also lit a campfire in the fire pit next to our cabin and spread the camp chairs around it.  The box of wine was opened, and then Bree presented us with amazing halibut tacos which we ate around the fire.  The horses were mostly loose, with the exception of two of them which were hobbled nearby.  We were fascinated to learn that most of the horses would be loose and free to wander while we were there, but at least two would be hobbled on the compound at any one time to make sure the whole group didn't take off down the trail and back to the parking lot!  This had happened once before to her father, who had to walk all the way to the trailhead after a 16 hour day working on the cabins and ride the naughty horses back up.  Only a couple of horses were never hobbled, including Ranger and Kona, neither of which were bold enough to take off, and neither of which had any weight to lose (since horses apparently trample the majority of available browse where they're hobbled rather than eating it).  Many of the horses were grazing on the grass there in the compound and we were all learning to identify them by name now that we could see them all clearly.

The evening was cool and we inched our way closer and closer to the fire pit as we chatted away.  When the s'mores came out, we had our first real introduction to Orca, the black and white pinto.  Bree had mentioned that we'd get to know Orca on this trip, something about getting into campfires and cabins, but I was in no way prepared for his antics!  For our entire stay, Orca continually made me laugh out loud--I can't imagine a more entertaining campfire guest!  It turns out he has a sweet tooth and soon began nosing around our s'mores, making himself perfectly at home around the fire.  It became commonplace for Orca to station himself between the camp chairs like another person, nosing and nibbling and trying to sneak food.  He ate from our hands, he ate from our plates, he ate out of snack bowls left unguarded, he drank from our cups, and he snuffled in the campfire smoke.  He was a total delight.  Nearly every time he was not hobbled, Orca joined us for meals, standing so near the fire at times that he stamped his hoof with the heat and singed the whiskers around his nose.  I felt a bit bad the first time we fed him treats, as I was not sure how much leeway we had with that, but Bree did not discourage us and did not discourage Orca's attendance (except when he became unmanageable one afternoon with the snacks).  She even poured out lemonade (an Orca favorite) on the top of a tub for him to slurp up on the hottest day; he also tried wine and coffee, undiscouraged by the heat.  I think my favorite part of the whole trip (other than the human company) was having the horses around camp, horses I knew by name and could freely walk up to and pat at any time, horses that were ever-present; but, Orca was without a doubt the highlight.

That first evening we retired close to midnight and found our cabin to be the perfect temperature.  Jeannette slept on the army cot with a thermarest on top; Vicki and Valerie took the bottom bunks along the back wall, and my mom and I took the top bunks.  Outside, horses snuffled.

On to Day 2

(Photographers other than myself are indicated in parentheses after each caption.)

The bore tide at Bird Point	Cow moose on the Seward Highway (Vicki)	Eating supper in Moose Pass
Jeannette brushing Frisco (Vicki)	Mom brushing L'amor (Vicki)	Frisco looks suspicious (Vicki)
Vicki meets Ebony	Valerie looks over Kona's huge back	Jeannette gets ready to mount Frisco
Riding through the wet forest (Mom)	Bree/Max, Gus, and Orca	The view as we break out of the forest (Valerie)
Breaking in and out of scrub along the mountainside	Valerie and Mom (Vicki)	Debbie, Jeannette, and Vicki (Valerie)
Kona and L'amor drink at a stream crossing (Valerie)	Vicki, Jeannette, Debbie, Bree and the horses at Devil's Pass (Valerie)	Alpine meadows (Vicki)
Mom and L'amor (Vicki)	Riding near Devil's Pass (Mom)	Lake near Devil's Pass (Mom)
A brief stop in the wildflowers (Mom)	Orca chooses his own path	Now we're on Resurrection Trail
Walking the horses	The horses graze in front of the guest cabin	Gus and L'amor groom each other
We all sit around the campfire	Valerie, Scout, and Mom at dinner	Gunny, Jeannette, and Vicki at dinner
Orca joins us	Orca licks Jeannette's plate	Mom and Orca around the campfire
Jeannette, Orca, and Debbie (Valerie)	Vicki, Jeannette, Debbie, and Mom at the campfire (Valerie)	Our cabin (Valerie)
The view south from our cabin/campfire (Vicki)	Oh Orca! (Vicki)	Orca sneezing? (Vicki)

Scout stands outside our window

On to Day 2