I was headed out to a new campground in the National Forest, but I did not like the area. It was in a valley that would have been beautiful at one time, a time long ago before it was logged to death. Where there was once splendid rainforest, I saw a patchwork of regrowth at varying stages. The valley floor was rutted and devoid of any tall pines. My first thought, why leave the beautiful hilltop with views of the channel and snowy peaks for this over-logged dump heap? So I returned to my view site.

Vickie and Jerry were not leaving until late afternoon so we had more time together. We discovered that our paths will overlap on the next two segments. We have one day together at Petersburg and then about a week overlap at Juneau. I made a reservation at Mendenhall Glacier Campground, not far from them, so we can hang out together. They are interesting and fun people, and Tango loves Munchkin, their dog. Maybe not as much as Star, back in Deming, but he is certainly enamored.

I stayed at my hilltop retreat for two more nights. That soft rain fell on and off. Low clouds covered my mountains, but I enjoyed the most beautiful campground I have ever visited, regardless of the weather.

This morning I had breakfast in town, finally. I enjoyed a croissant breakfast sandwich and coffee for $10. Not too bad. Regular breakfast was $12-14, a bit out of my budget, but the sandwich provided plenty of food. After breakfast, I picked up my General Delivery Mail and walked Tango along the town’s waterfront.

Before I left the campground, I packed up everything with the thought of staying in town. Several times I had driven through a small park along the water’s edge, barely marked, where they allow tent camping for short stays. I had noticed several shelters where Tango and I could hang out during the rain. I was eager to spend some time right down by the water, exploring the tiny cove, especially at low tide. I also wanted to do a few more things in town, like visit the museum and the NFS office.

So here we are. Instead of overlooking the channel, we are right on the waterfront, a few yards from a tiny cove with a narrow beach. Some locals are having a family party in the main shelter and the kids are all over the beach, so Tango and I will wait before we explore. I still have plenty of groceries and water after my previous stop in town.

I finally finished rereading Muir’s account of his time in Wrangell. In the late 1800s when he came through, it was a different town. He described the area that is now downtown as a “lawless draggle of wooden huts and houses, built along crooked lines, wrangling around the boggy shore of the island for a miles or so”. Muir traveled the waterways on hired steamers with several Presbyterian ministers who were supposed to be building a church and “saving the savages.” However, they couldn’t get enough of tromping around in the forests and on the glaciers with Muir. Muir noted in his writings that he was okay with that because of the natural temple they found in nature. Muir’s writing is quite descriptive and sometimes funny.

An excerpt from Travels in Alaska:

“Wrangell Island is about fourteen miles long, separated from the mainland by a narrow channel or fjord. Like all its neighbors, it is densely forested down to the waters edge with trees that never seem to have suffered from thirst of fire or the axe of the lumberman in all their long century lives. Beneath soft, shady clouds, with abundance of rain, they flourish in wonderful strength and beauty to a good old aged, while the many warm days, half cloudy, half clear, and the little groups of pure son-days enable them to ripen their cones and send myriads of seeds flying every autumn to ensure the permanence of the forest and feed the multitude of animals.