An earthquake and a river of mud

Autumn in the Susitna River Valley. From left the higher mountains are Foraker, Hunter and McKinley.

We had quite an earthquake Thursday morning, it measured 6.24 on whatever they are calling the scale these days and was centered not too far from the East Pole.

That's the trail. Note the river heading off to the upper right.

It started as a slow roller but something in that hinted at more and sure enough all of a sudden the house started some serious shaking for a few seconds and I heard things falling in the outer rooms. The whole thing felt like five minutes but was probably maybe 30 seconds. It was enough to clear overstocked shelves in some stores and rattle just about everyone. People all over Alaska felt it, from Fairbanks to Kenai and east into Prince William Sound. It also brought about one of the best descriptions of handling an earthquake I’ve come across. A friend posted this on his facebook page: "This just in – 6.1 earthquakes feel much bigger when you're outside and suddenly surfing a slab of concrete."

Given the location and magnitude of the quake, thoughts of the East Pole came up. Now, a few years ago the cabin survived a 7.9 so well a wine glass I had left upside down in the dish drainer didn't even fall over, so worry is relative. But, today brightened into a beautiful fall day, just perfect for a quick jaunt out there to make sure everything was all right. I had been wanting to go, but weeks of rain and what that rain does to the trail kept me from going.  It had been dry for a week, so no excuses today and I loaded up the four-wheeler and off we went.

In some ways I should have stayed home. What was supposed to be a trail, more resembled a long, narrow, muddy lake. If it weren't for the hills it probably could have been done in a boat. Several times water washed up over the front of the machine. It’s one of those place where momentum is your friend; you have to keep it moving or risk sinking into the mud. The problem with that is you can roar through the puddles, but at each end people before you have hit the throttle, spun the wheels and dug a hole making the water deeper and the slope climbing up out of the water steeper.  So when you come to the end of a long lake, you have to lay off the throttle so you don't throw yourself off the machine when it hits that steep climb, at the same time maintaining enough momentum to get over the hump. If it were all that straightforward it might not be so bad, but it seems there is always a rut involved that throws the machine sideways in an attempt to buck off the driver just when he is trying to hang on and maintain control. After fourteen miles of that, my shoulders are sore from wrestling with the handlebar.

These swans were feeding at roadside paying no attention to gawkers.

But, determination can get you amazing places and once at the cabin it was satisfying to find no sign there had been any earthquake at all. Even shaky stand-alone picture frames were right where I left them. About all I gained from the trip was a little satisfaction that I had defeated the trail in as bad a condition as I have ever seen it. There was that and then there was my cabin surviving two earthquakes of more that 7 magnitude and one of 6 and still standing after 28 years. Not bad for a total novice building with a hammer in one hand and a carpentry book in the other. I do recall that of 12  pilings holding up the cabin, seven were on solid rock. That might have something to do with it.

So, satisfied with the structure and the five gallons of gas I left for next time, I headed down the hill, checked on a neighbor's cabin and headed back down the trail, faster and more confident, which made it wetter and muddier, another Alaska adventure under my belt.

And, wouldn't you know it, just as I emerged from the woods another earthquake hit, this one in the neighborhood of 4.7. Supposedly these smaller ones are beneficial because they ease pressure before it builds into a bigger one.

Oh, no! Swans!

Hip deep in the East Pole mud.

Photo gallery: Summer trail to the East Pole.