Dangerous wildlife?

I am very fortunate that a road cyclist in front of me on the bike trail pointed this out to his friends, because I was about to bank off the pavement right into the utility corridor along which these two were browsing. The cow was on one side, the calf on the other, and the trail went right between them. I don't know much about moose, but I understand getting between a cow and her calf is a quick way to get the shit kicked out of you.

Here's a somewhat closer look at the cow. Sometimes in my scramble to get a photo, I forget to actually take in the subject. Not this time. This is a truly impressive animal, and while smaller than a bull moose, she's still more massive than any of the elk I've seen.

I went ahead and rode well past these two large cervids before I found another way into the trail system. I deployed my bear bell just in case (moose, and especially calves) are part of both black and brown bears' prey base.

Setting aside for a moment my ongoing incredulity at needing to worry about large land mammals during a bike ride within city limits, let me explain these east Anchorage trails. They are unlike anything I know from Tucson. There are no rocks, but what takes their place are exposed tree roots. A 29er is the perfect bike for these trails. A rigid singlespeed - wheel size notwithstanding - really isn't. 

This was about the worst of it, and it was worse than it looks in this photo. Well, at least for a confirmed desert rat like myself it was. The thing was, this went on for hundreds of feet - on climbs, flats, and descents - which made it hard for me to get on top of my 32:19. I eventually got over myself, stayed on the gas, and tried not to bark my bar ends on standing trees or get clotheslined by partially-fallen ones. Fortunately, despite the morning rain, the roots weren't slippery and I only slid the back tire sideways once.

Other sections were only moderately rooted. I think the degree of root exposure has something to do with the topography but also the age of the trail. Older trails are just more eroded.

Finally, there were a few reaches that were either relatively recently-built and/or situated in depositional areas, and these were the only places where my bear bell wasn't jangling madly from a million little hits. Zoom!

I eventually reached a lake that served as the centerpiece of a gigantic dog park. There's nothing like this in Tucson, either. Anyway, it seemed like a good turnaround point. I ended up talking to a local mountain biker who had converted his fat bike into a singlespeed and registered for SSWC 2014. He and his buddies, like me, missed the race too. He gave me some great tips for an epic ride I could get to from town. Maybe later. As an aside, look at the layback on that stock seatpost. Yeah, I'm back to bending posts with my fat ass. It's so bad I've had to readjust the angle of the saddle because it was getting nose-up, and if my taint isn't happy, I'm not happy. A Thomson is already on the way.

I really thought I was done with the dangerous wildlife by this point in the ride. I'd even silenced the bear bell. Then I saw this sign. Despite my education in zoology and having been employed for 20 years as a wildlife biologist, my head was swirling with tasteless comments.

But there's a reason for the precaution. There was a more official-type sign just above a sizable beaver lodge.

I eventually made it home safe and sound, having avoided any overly adverse encounters with Alaska's fauna (there are always mosquitoes to contend with).