July 12

A day off. Headed up Mt. Healy this morning, ditching my backpack at tree-line to run the ridge up to the summit & through the scree & talus, a thin smoke-haze hovering initially over the Nenana valley & spreading west along the park road below, clearing up gradually as I progressed. Took a faulty step & went down, snagging a dwarf willow by the trunk to stay me from scrambling down a brief but likely painful descent. Cracked a toenail & cut my wrist somehow in the process. & upon nearing the trailhead had a call from a ranger asking if I was up for taking his atvs along Dry Creek outside of Healy. My first time on an atv. The paths we took led to a looming sandstone mountain cut with hoodoos; an Athabascan site a sharp ochre against an endless backdrop of boreal forest. His Newfoundland & Alaskan Eskimo joined us, their jaws dripping thick slobber under the hot sun. Fair to say access to such remote locations here has its advantages—the view west and south the paled blue articulation of the range, the broad lowlands stretching between vividly colored with fireweed & lupine & the verdure of the willows. That bear-dense taiga. & the cirrose strands of smoke-cloud like strung white veins afloat in that blue sky. & afterwards home to the cabin emptied of other until the wee hours, & me here sunshot & pleasantly drowsy already, all the evening yawning before me.