Beluga Point -10F

With ten degrees in the hole, Double O and I stopped at Beluga Point on the return half of tonight's Jones Run. It was our first trip to Girdwood in almost two months and we felt long over due. Anchorage was only -1, but I have thermomics that told us where we stood tempwise at the Point.

Guys, it was amazing. Bubbles and I were bundled quite heavily so the cold didn't bother us at all, at least not until we were close to leaving and the tips of our toes started to get uncomfortable. The ice floes were in full hollow grinding swing, radiating movement sounds, almost like fast-forwarded plate techtonics, a sort of icey continental drift, sounds of the dying ghosts underwater sort. Haunting to say the least, and I don't mind saying, a little bit scary. We took some pictures and in a year from now when I get around to developing the 1600 speed film, I'll let y'all know how they turned out.

You might ask, "Mungo, isn't it icey out there?"
And I would answer, "Yes, boys, but Mungo has STABILicers and all was well."

Double O just took it easy, but as soon as he can afford to caugh up $45 for a pair of cleated vibram velcrow-on soles, he's all over it. I could jump around on ice patches, the same ones that landed Bubbles on his Butt. That was funny: Mungo dancing a gig while Double O is laid out flat on his back. Ha ha ha.

Julie, the roomie, is talking in her sleep. I can hear her through her closed door at the end of the hallway. I hope my typing doesn't wake her up. Listening to her sleep-talk is way to funny to ruin.

Peace and Love,
Mungo