In this instance it was particularly great. The hike had been steep, the day overcast, the bugs bad, the summit false, and we had used the last of our water (thinking we were just below the summit) to wash a rock out of my eye. Most of the glaciers up here have a substantial lateral moraine from the last glacial maximum 20,000 years ago and often from the little ice age 150 years ago as well that must be crossed to actually set foot on ice. In this case the moraine was not inconsequential. What looks like a pile of loose debris is actually a cemented steeply sloped conglomerate of super sharp rocks. Hence the smile and heightened appreciation of walking on ice.
The really fun part of the challenge of getting onto the ice here was the song stuck in my head while descending the moraine. Goin' up to the Spirit in the Sky is not what you want stuck in your head. Especially if it makes you laugh and teeter on the edge of loosing your balance.
The other major challenge we had this summer was weather. Nice view? Sure, until that damn cloud rolls up the valley again and your gut start to seize up because now you are in the middle of a field of white and your visibility may be about to decrease substantially.
In the end the effort paid off. Here we have the scientist at work. Mostly noting boring details like the weather and time of datalogger launching, but also a lot of details on how I got here, where in the world I left the datalogger and whether or not the route I took was one that should be repeated or avoided for the return next summer.
'What? Yes, I know about the clouds. I'm hurrying. Did you want to take the notes or are you going to shut up now?' I'm so kind to my field assistants. I can't imagine why finding an unpaid field assistant is so hard.
Okay, let's see, where was I? Oh, yes, datalogger installed on a 50 foot tiny little string tied to a big rock at the edge of the glacier. I'm sure I'll be able to find this again next year. Yes sireee, no problemo.
I always feel like I'm seeing the glacier naked in the summer. Or maybe in a bikini? Either way, May and September are my favorite months for glacier travel. In May all the crevasses are covered up with strong snow bridges and in September they are all exposed. What I don't like are moraines.
Meet Milk Glacier. Every time I got to a glacier this summer it was with mixed feelings. Usually it had taken longer than expected, the weather had been less than desirable, the snow line was further away, and the dogs were overdue to be let out of the house because my dogsitter was doubling as my field assistant. That being all that it is (namely, life), the first view never ceased to take my breath away. 
In this instance it was particularly great. The hike had been steep, the day overcast, the bugs bad, the summit false, and we had used the last of our water (thinking we were just below the summit) to wash a rock out of my eye. Most of the glaciers up here have a substantial lateral moraine from the last glacial maximum 20,000 years ago and often from the little ice age 150 years ago as well that must be crossed to actually set foot on ice. In this case the moraine was not inconsequential. What looks like a pile of loose debris is actually a cemented steeply sloped conglomerate of super sharp rocks. Hence the smile and heightened appreciation of walking on ice.
The really fun part of the challenge of getting onto the ice here was the song stuck in my head while descending the moraine. Goin' up to the Spirit in the Sky is not what you want stuck in your head. Especially if it makes you laugh and teeter on the edge of loosing your balance.
The other major challenge we had this summer was weather. Nice view? Sure, until that damn cloud rolls up the valley again and your gut start to seize up because now you are in the middle of a field of white and your visibility may be about to decrease substantially.
In the end the effort paid off. Here we have the scientist at work. Mostly noting boring details like the weather and time of datalogger launching, but also a lot of details on how I got here, where in the world I left the datalogger and whether or not the route I took was one that should be repeated or avoided for the return next summer.
'What? Yes, I know about the clouds. I'm hurrying. Did you want to take the notes or are you going to shut up now?' I'm so kind to my field assistants. I can't imagine why finding an unpaid field assistant is so hard.
Okay, let's see, where was I? Oh, yes, datalogger installed on a 50 foot tiny little string tied to a big rock at the edge of the glacier. I'm sure I'll be able to find this again next year. Yes sireee, no problemo.
