An Excerpt from Garden Opus^®

            Text and Photography © Copyright 1992-2006 by Robert F. Gabella.  All Rights Reserved.

         ...from North, But With A Future?

From time to time, Dad would drive us up to Arctic Valley Ski Resort in the summer, to do a bit of light Alpine hiking and take in the scenery.  Of course, I examined every new plant I saw like some sort of human microscope.  I remember my first sighting of golden monkey flower, Mimulus guttatus, swaying with the running water in a little creek.  Near them grew the native forget me not, Myosotis alpestris ssp. asiatica, and though it was the Alaska State flower, I never saw it grow anywhere else in the State (my vote for State flower was always fireweed).  Every plant here above the timber line that also grew in the lower elevations seemed to have richer colors and larger blooms than those just a ten minute drive away.  This was especially noticeable on the lavender blue wild Geranium, G. erianthum, which here seemed not only larger, but also possessed by a particularly iridescent shade of cornflower blue.  The dwarf fireweed, or river beauty, Chamaenirion latifolium, grew thicker and more lustrous, with more deeply colored blossoms than the low-altitude version.  And how about the wild rose, Rosa acicularis?  One of two similar species in Alaska, specimens here above the tree line were nearly red rather than the more familiar pink.  I was captivated by their intense color and beauty, so much so that it would nearly be my undoing.

One summer afternoon, as my Dad and brother Bill hiked to the top of the ski slope and beyond, Barbara and I stayed behind and began to explore the area south and west of the parking lot leading up to the lodge.  I wandered off on my own, as usual, and veered toward any plant or burst of scenery that caught my eye.  As I walked the edge of a steep, rocky ravine, I couldn’t help but notice the intense color saturation of the roses which grew along its sloping slides.  I peered more closely at the various specimens as I turned over the logistics: which one I was most likely to yank off the side of the slope?  Not the whole plant mind you, just a chunk of growth from the side of the clump.  The reddest one was clearly out of reach, but one nearly as dark was, so I thought, a manageable distance from the edge.   I had found my target.  And now, to execute my attack (never mind the fact that I was, once again, testing my fate on government property).  So I sat on the edge, and set my heels against the grade.   And instantly began to slide.  Was this a ravine or a cliff?  Had I really misjudged it that badly?  The sight of the jagged rocks - which were piled all along the base some sixty or eighty feet below - was menacing.

My instant reflex was to flip onto my belly as I slid, and I grabbed an outcropping of boulders which jutted out from the side.  My next reflex was to scream for help, as the loose gravelly soil was rapidly giving way from under my feet.  To hang on for dear life was all I could do.  No more than a minute or two had passed when I saw Barbara running up from the distance.  As she got closer, she demanded to know just what I was doing?  I screamed through embarrassment and fear that I'd been after some roses, and though I’m not sure now, she most likely rolled her eyes in disbelief.  Incredulous as she must have thought my motivation, she got right down to the business of figuring out just what to do next.

She laid on her stomach, right at the very edge, and stretched her feet as far as she could so I could reach (and then hang on).  With no desire to join me in my slide, she put her right foot against the boulder outcropping and was able to get enough leverage to pull me up to the top.  “You saved my life!” I exclaimed, feeling sure I wouldn’t have had the strength or foothold to scramble up on my own.

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Copyright © 2002-2009 Robert F. Gabella

Last Updated 6/07/2009