On Columbus Day about 20 years ago Anne and I made a hasty decision while having coffee down in Seward to hike into Exit. Telling no one we decided to make a very late season visit. No food, no heavy jackets, no gloves, no brains! We violated most of the Alaskan survival rules.

Back then the road ended at a parking lot by a stream that could only be crossed on a bridge made of oil barrels. The Ranger Station long since closed had one notice up "Carry a large calliber fire arm --bears!"

Unarmed, we departed the Subaru. Anne wouldn't let me leave a note saying where we'd gone, feeling that it might be worse to be followed than to be lost. I approached the bridge with my heart in my throat. Did I mention I had a badly injured ankle and wasn't long off crutches? An awkward crossing.

As the sun began to set to the south we went toward the glacier with 45 minutes of easy going on a clear trail and spent a few minutes taking photos and headed back. A float plane flew above us and wagged his wings. We made a jolly wave. He left us: alone. As the light dimmed we missed the marked trail and heard a huge crash. CRASH! A moose crossed in front of us. Filled with terror we both screamed. "What do we do now?" I asked the Alaskan. Silent she walked on as we came to the stream we'd crossed on the barrel bridge. No bridge! Very dark now. She tiptoed from rock to rock and fetched the opposite bank. I fell in. Wet and miserable I crawled up the muddy bank and eventually we found the Subaru.

Angels preserve us! Snow! Big wet flakes! By morning the road would be closed. How close we came to being trapped by the weather. We drove on to Moose Pass for pie and hot coffee. At home we weren't missed.