Alone on the Williwaw

Tonight will mark my third night in the Chugach, camped on the Williwaw Lakes trail at the base of Little O'Malley. The views from here are stunning but ever changing. The grey waters of Cook Inlet turn silver as the sun gently lowers itself out of the sky; the Alaska range further on seems one dominant black heap one moment, and a string of intricate snowclad peaks the next. Even Anchorage itself, tucked below me, seems to shrink and swell at the clouds behest.

It is generally pleasant here-- warmer during the day than I would think, though colder at night. The rain, when it comes, is light and short lived. But the wind-- I never expected the wind. I've since learned that a Williwaw is a sudden windstorm, and fierce enough to threaten my tent with collapse no matter how many adjustments I make. Very little mosquitoes are the silver lining I suppose, but tomorrow I will pack up for Green Lake, and hope for greener pastures. Mt Williwaw dazzled me, Black Lake with its impossible deep turquoise color won me over at first sight, and Little O' Malley's postcard perfect peak will keep me smiling-- just hopefully at a more sheltered campsite.