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Russell Mitchell writes...

...about his experiences while volunteering in Alaska.

When I first came to Alaska two summers ago on a trip with my father, I was introduced to a world very different from the hustle-bustle lifestyle that so characterizes the typical life of a Rutgers University student in New Brunswick New Jersey. There were towering mountains, raging rivers and sweeping glaciers the likes of which I'd never seen before. Most amazing of all, however, were the countless instances where I'd find myself in a vast open landscape such as Denali National Park, and I wouldn't be able to hear anything but nature. No cars, classes, people or worries. Rather paradoxically, the only thing I did hear was silence. It was truly an escape. It was on this trip that I made a promise to myself that I would "escape" to this land again and as soon as possible.

Two years after this, in the present day, I find myself dozing off to sleep on a 747 jet bound for Anchorage. After a quick stop Las Vegas to refuel, I was up in the air again as I attempted to sleep through the turbulent bumps and jolts of the aircraft's cabin. I awoke some two hours later to find that on each side of the aircraft, thousands of feet below, lay the majestic peaks of southeast Alaska. The plane landed twenty minutes later in Anchorage.

Minutes after exiting the aircraft I met Mandy Morell of Volunteers for Alaska (VFA), the woman who would be driving me to my intended destination: the Eagle River Nature Centre in the town of Eagle River. She gave me a quick tour of Anchorage in her Subaru and then we headed north up the Glenn Highway towards Eagle River. As we took the Eagle River exit and curled around Eagle River loop road, the immense Chugach mountains towered overhead; an incredible visual fanfare for my arrival. We travelled down Eagle River Road for about 13 miles until we reached a dead-end. The building at this dead-end would be my home for the next three months.

The Eagle River Nature Centre, once a state-funded visitor's centre for Chugach State Park, is now owned by a non-profit organization. The building and its surrounding trails are maintained by local and resident volunteers who pledge their own time and efforts into making sure that this building and this land stay the way they are: a gateway to the wilderness.

By living in this wilderness I was essentially pulled away from all of the major creature comforts that took for granted in life. There was no television, no indoor plumbing in my cabin, no electricity and no heating. It was only nature and I wouldn't have had it any other way.

At the nature centre I performed a wide variety of tasks including visitor services at the front desk of the centre, interpretive nature walks along the Rodack Nature Trail, trail maintenance and various janitorial tasks. Essentially, my job was to help in any way I could to maintain the centre, its surrounding trails and to educate visitors on this glimmering gem called Chugach State Park.

At the centre I made friends with several people. Among them was a gentleman called Bill Ragan. Also a resident volunteer like myself, he drove all the way here from Florida, where he retired from his long career with the postal service. He broke his arm the first week he arrived. As a result he was forced to seclude himself in his cabin or go on various road trips throughout the state. On each of these trips Bill would invite me along when I had days off. It was hard to resist the prospect of touring this great state in a nice Ford Expedition with heated seats, a moon roof and an all leather interior. I gladly accepted his invitations.

Bill so graciously refused my persistent advances to offer gas money on each trip (almost to a fault!). He said my company upon these trips was sufficient; they sort of served as a mutual adventure that both of us wouldn't have enjoyed if the other had not been there. The two of us would exchange witty banter and pleasant casual conversations as we drove through such places as the McCarthy road, leading to Wrangell-St Elias National Park and Preserve. 12 miles into the road we got a flat tire due to rolling over a railroad spike. Needless to say, neither of us had or would see the town of McCarthy.

In any case, Bill would always say that we have probably seen more of Alaska than most Alaskans have. We travelled to Seward, Fairbanks, Skagway, Denali National Park, Wrangell-St Elias National Park, Kenai Fjords National park and countless other destinations around the state. I never expected a summer like this, nor will I forget it!

The culmination of my summer in Alaska, however, took place when I decided to embark on the Crow Pass Trail. This is a 25-mile trail that stretches from Girdwood to the Nature Centre. I hiked for three days through the mountains, accompanied by three other volunteers. We hiked in almost three days of non-stop rain, we forded an icy cold Eagle River, and we did it all while being wet, freezing, tired and aching. In the end, I'd have to say that it was three of the most miserable days of my like. In an odd way though, they were also the three most amazing days of my life. Those three days in the Alaskan wilderness served as a test for me both physically and mentally. It was a test that made me choose whether I really loved this place or whether I hated it.

In the end I realised that I loved Alaska all along. I didn't need a hike to help me realise that. The hike simply reaffirmed to me that this land is not to be taken for granted. It is a harsh and dynamic land that ought not to be underestimated. Alaska is an unforgiving place and makes no exception when it comes to her potential to create physically demanding yet unforgettable adventurous journeys for people. It is truly the last great America wilderness and I was very glad to spend my summer trying to be a part of that greatness.