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We broke and set camp every few days. We picked sites where running water would separate our sleeping and kitchen areas. I quickly learned wise camping protocol separates human and food smells from potential wild animal curiosity. Fully aware of our eco-tourism agenda, it was still comforting to learn our guides did have an emergency firearm - just in case an animal did become too curious. When inquiring as to the parameters of "just in case", I was informed "This is for when a bear enters camp, has eaten one leg and is preparing to feast on the other." I felt so much better!

One major inconvenience (or minor depending upon your personal hygiene perspective) was the inability to bathe. Two of our brave and determined souls did try and take a quick (about 10 seconds) dip in the frigid water each day to refresh. This valiant effort was short lived. At the halfway point I actually dared to try and wash my hair. Bundled in my layers, I bent forward while Rick poured water on my head - instant brain freeze! Daily rituals, such as brushing teeth, had specific guidelines. Only use the lower portion of the stream for spitting as the upper section was designated for drinking water collection.

Then there was the dreaded "red bag". When out of plain sight, it signified someone was "doing his or her business" at the site's selected "pooping ground". How inconspicuous we were trotting off, red bag in hand! When our guide explained the preferential method of cleaning one's self (during a red bag visit) was a smooth rock and moss rather than toilet tissue (which had to be taken with you)...I quickly calculated how much Imodium AD would be required to never have to go that route.

Our first full day began with sunny blue skies, Mount St. Elias majestic and visible, and all of us adorned in lightweight clothes. I thought, "I can handle this!" That was our last beautiful weather day. With each new day the clouds, cold and rain increased. Dry clothes were at a premium. One night, as I sat in my tent, freezing, saturated, exhausted, contemplating my "left behind" piles, I had an epiphany: Don't most normal people simply take luxury cruises to Alaska?

Mt. St. Elias and Yahtse Glacier (click)

We alternated days either kayaking or hiking - rigorous trips approximately 10 hours apiece. Our activities were determined by the thickness of the ice pack, the weather and which muscles hurt the most. Kayaking was no problem - the boats were tandem. When I pooped out Rick could easily pick up the slack and occasionally vice versa. When kayaking we were always at the head of the pack. Hiking was another story. My 5'1" proportioned legs could not compete with 6' something legs. Nor could my 40 something body contend with the 20 somethings. Hiking we were always the stragglers. At the culmination of one especially long hike, we trailed so far behind that the tide had come in no longer allowing beach passage back to the camp site. Humiliated, we had to be rescued by kayak.

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