This morning I tackled Mt. Dewey. Yes, tackled. At my age, a half-mile boardwalk/staircase trail is a mountain. The views from the top? Lovely. Trees, water, boats…
Feeling bold (and still upright), I even followed the spur trail. It climbs just a bit higher, but enough to remind you that knees don’t last forever. I didn’t see any mountain goats up there—just a few other hikers, none of whom congratulated me with a medal. (Rude.)
After a graceful descent (meaning: I didn’t fall), I turned my attention to Wrangell’s geological bling: garnets.
Seven miles north of town lies Garnet Ledge, home to Wrangell’s famous almandine garnets. These deep red stones were once mined by Alaska’s first all-women–owned mining company—seriously badass. Today, mining rights belong to the children of Wrangell, who sell the garnets as part summer job, part tradition, and part small-town magic.
I met one such young entrepreneur—a polite, well-informed kid with a bag of rocks. He showed me various garnets, explained the difference between “in the rock” and “busted out,” and sold me a nice round one.
In town, the garnets are quite literally underfoot. The sidewalks are speckled with garnet schist, making the streets twinkle if the sun cooperates. Locals call them Alaskan rubies. They won’t make you rich, but they’ll absolutely make you smile.
