So the other weekend we went camping. And it was a pretty solid adventure. We went to little lost lake, the same place we attempted fishing last year. Last year we had no luck. We watched things jump in the water all day long with constant nibbles on the bait but never caught one. By about four in the afternoon I had the most horrifying thought that what we had been fishing for all day were actually frogs not fish. I remember Travis thought really hard for a second and then told me if we had been hunting for frogs all day we were never speaking of the incident to anyone ever again and pretending it had never happened unless we caught some frogs for dinner. Luckily, I didn’t have to eat frog legs for dinner and we had enough verified fish sightings to conclude we weren’t frog fishing.
This year the fishing was no better. Turns out, the lake is only about six feet deep. So this year it hadn’t even been stocked yet and there was nothing that survived the winter. We tried our luck in a nearby lake as we had purchased a handy two person blow up raft. Roxi had her own life jacket because I was not confident in her ability to swim. Travis tossed her in and she kind of splashed about and looked stupid so we were worried. I’ve been informed she can in fact swim this week which is surprising but even old dogs can learn new tricks! But, back to fishing. The water still had icebergs in it. Giant ice sheets through which Travis recklessly rafted, terrifying me. Though he claims I worried unnecessarily. As if I would ever do that……Once we vented further out we discovered the reason we weren’t catching anything. Everything was dead and floating on the water in a morbid fish death field.
So we ditched the water and went hiking. Bald eagles everywhere! We even surprised one walking up to a tree and watched it take off over our heads. It was really cool. Apparently, Roxi is an extreme hiking partner. For two miles she pulled with her legs spread as far as possible crouched as low as she could for more traction. She looked kind of possessed so we dubbed it the demon dog walk. I’ve never seen her do anything like it before. She's always proving what a weird little dog she is. Travis also made fun of me because anytime we found animal poop I had to stop and poke it with sticks to make sure were weren’t sneaking up on moose or bears.
The last day we were sleeping there we had neighbors. Not the good kind. These were the loud music blaring, four dogs barking and howling, people screaming and drinking kind. They moved in around eight without even a courtesy, “Sorry we will be loud tonight, feel free to drop by for a beer.” So by ten thirty we loaded the rest of the coronas into the raft and paddled out on the lake to relax. Even with the noisy echoes of our neighbors ringing through the valley we quite enjoyed ourselves. We stayed out until one and it was light the entire time. That’s the best thing about summer Alaska camping in my opinion. The mosquitoes were even as reasonable as blood sucking creatures can be.
This year the fishing was no better. Turns out, the lake is only about six feet deep. So this year it hadn’t even been stocked yet and there was nothing that survived the winter. We tried our luck in a nearby lake as we had purchased a handy two person blow up raft. Roxi had her own life jacket because I was not confident in her ability to swim. Travis tossed her in and she kind of splashed about and looked stupid so we were worried. I’ve been informed she can in fact swim this week which is surprising but even old dogs can learn new tricks! But, back to fishing. The water still had icebergs in it. Giant ice sheets through which Travis recklessly rafted, terrifying me. Though he claims I worried unnecessarily. As if I would ever do that……Once we vented further out we discovered the reason we weren’t catching anything. Everything was dead and floating on the water in a morbid fish death field.
So we ditched the water and went hiking. Bald eagles everywhere! We even surprised one walking up to a tree and watched it take off over our heads. It was really cool. Apparently, Roxi is an extreme hiking partner. For two miles she pulled with her legs spread as far as possible crouched as low as she could for more traction. She looked kind of possessed so we dubbed it the demon dog walk. I’ve never seen her do anything like it before. She's always proving what a weird little dog she is. Travis also made fun of me because anytime we found animal poop I had to stop and poke it with sticks to make sure were weren’t sneaking up on moose or bears.
The last day we were sleeping there we had neighbors. Not the good kind. These were the loud music blaring, four dogs barking and howling, people screaming and drinking kind. They moved in around eight without even a courtesy, “Sorry we will be loud tonight, feel free to drop by for a beer.” So by ten thirty we loaded the rest of the coronas into the raft and paddled out on the lake to relax. Even with the noisy echoes of our neighbors ringing through the valley we quite enjoyed ourselves. We stayed out until one and it was light the entire time. That’s the best thing about summer Alaska camping in my opinion. The mosquitoes were even as reasonable as blood sucking creatures can be.
As per usual, we had an "Only in Alaska" moment. I don't know if it is Alaska exclusive but out there we have transfer stations that we cart our trash to. And there tend to be a lot of dumpster divers. Enough that a dumpster deserves a courtesy glance inside before you toss in something heavy lest you crush someone hunting for treasures. On the drive back home we pulled up to the transfer station in Salcha to drop off our camping gear. The first thing I noticed was a weird old man, either pulling things out of the dumpster or ditching the extra truck on his trailer, no big deal. The next thing I noticed was the poor, twisted little carcass of a fox laying directly in the middle of the gates to the transfer station. It was giving me this look like "Abandon all hope, ye who enter here." I was pretty horrified. But just another normal day at the transfer station.
