Monthly Archives: July 2014

Turn Out the Lights, The Party’s Over

In the previously published version the pictures did not upload for some reason.  I’ll assume it was operator error.  Anyway they should appear in this version.

 

 

Dandy Don Meredith used to sing that in the very early days of Monday Night Football toward the end of the game or when it looked like a victory was in hand for one team or the other. However, in this case, it appears that the Alaska portion of our vacation is about to end. I am writing this from Tok (pronounced “toke”, not “tock”) which is on the Alaska Highway and one of the first towns we visited in Alaska. I don’t think I have mentioned Tok before and I won’t really say much about it now either except that that’s where we are. The reason is that there’s really nothing to say about it. Everyone who drives to Alaska comes through here because they have to. The town consists of four or five RV parks, a couple of gas stations and a restaurant or two. Nothing too exciting, and the plan is to leave here tomorrow morning headed back into Canada for the long trip to the lower 48.

When we were in Tok about a month ago we had to make a decision on which way to go out of Tok. The highway system in Alaska essentially makes a big circle and from Tok we could continue heading northwest toward Fairbanks or we could have headed southwest toward Anchorage. Since it was fairly early in the season I wanted to go toward Anchorage in the south and give the Fairbanks area in the north more chance to warm up. Joan voted to go toward Fairbanks and then to Denali National Park because she thought Denali would get more crowded as the season progressed. I don’t always win these disagreements and this was one of those times. However, as it turned out, I’m glad we went the way we did, but not because of weather nor overcrowding. I’m of the opinion that the best sights and scenery are in southern Alaska, not the interior portion where Fairbanks is. Had we seen all of the best “stuff” first and then headed up toward Fairbanks I don’t think we would have appreciated that part nearly as much.

From Soldotna where I wrote the previous post, we did a day trip in the car down to Homer on the coast. Homer is a little fishing village surrounded by glaciers which are highly visible as you begin to drop down out of the mountains and head into town. The interesting geological feature of Homer is what is called the Homer Spit. It is a very narrow spit of land that extends out into the bay for about a mile. The spit itself is covered with RV parks, saloons and the typical tourist gift shops. The harbor is behind the spit in the protected waters, and sea planes were constantly taking off and landing in this area also. A noteworthy feature of the harbor was the extremely tall pilings that the docks are attached to. In Florida we get normal tide flucuations of perhaps just a couple of feet. But in southern Alaska the normal tide flucuates around twenty six feet. So the docks, gangways, etc have to be built to move up and down that much.

 

When we left Soldotna in the motorhome we headed for the town of Seward. Seward is another small fishing town on the coast. The main attraction for us here was Kenai Fjords National Park containing Exit Glacier which is another glacier that we could walk to. It was a mile and a half hike each way. While I was driving Joan had read all about it, and I think she just failed to mention to me that it was steep uphill the whole way. But the strenuous hike made the other attraction that we found in town, The Seward Brewing Company, that much better. The Exit Glacier was beautiful, but we did not visit it again the next day like we did The Seward Brewing Company!

 

 

The town of Seward is named after William Seward who was the Secretary of State in 1867 under Andrew Johnson. It was he who was friends with the Russian Minister of Foreign Affairs and they negotiated the purchase of the Alaska Territory from Russia. At the time the Russians were afraid of the Brits invading Alaska through Canada and they did not wish to defend the territory. The price we paid was $7,200,000 which works out to be about two cents per acre and the deal was negotiated as a treaty requiring Senate approval. Just as today there was wide disagreement in the country and especially in Congress as to whether Seward got a good deal. Those who did not called the purchase Seward’s Folly. The Senate finally ratified the treaty and in 1867, the House voted the funds and the deal was done.

The concept of one country purchasing land from another country as we did with Alaska and as we did in 1803 with the Louisiana Purchase from France seems rather novel today. Now if the Russians want Crimea they just kind of maneuver around and take it. As I think about it there might be a couple of states I would be willing to sell. How about California? Or if not all of it how about just a couple of cities there. Or even a congressional district? One in particular comes to mind, but again I digress.

From Seward we had to return to Anchorage for a couple of days because I had scheduled an oil change for the motorhome, and a Jiffy Lube just will not work for that. When I dropped it off the service tech asked me if I wanted anything else done besides the oil change. I thought about it for a few seconds and told him to put an air filter in since we have been on some rather dusty roads. I realized this would not be the normal $20 or so filter that goes in a car and figured that it might even cost $50. Imagine my surprise at the $275 charge. But this is Alaska and everything is expensive. With better planning on my part I could have ordered one and brought it with me.

The last of the coastal towns on our agenda was Valdez, the southern terminus of the Alaska Pipeline. Because of that distinction and the history of the Exxon Valdez oil tanker spill, I was expecting more of an industrial look to Valdez. It sits on the bay and on the town side of the bay there is a typical small boat harbor and a bigger dock where cruise ships and ferries dock. Across the bay is where the pipeline terminates and there is a rather large tank farm there, but it was much smaller than I expected. We drove over to that side of the bay and in the shadow of the tank farm there is a thriving salmon hatchery and there were bald eagles everywhere. Nature seems to be coexisting quite nicely with the petroleum industry in this area. But the thing that Valdez, Seward and Homer all have in common is that there is one road into each town and the scenery along those roads is just spectacular. One final note on Valdez that I found interesting is that in 1964 a huge earthquake rocked all of southern Alaska. It also created a tsunami that pretty much totally destroyed Valdez. The damage was so great that subsequent geologic studies determined that the land under the town was no longer stable enough to rebuild on. But an area four miles away was stable and vacant. It was owned by a couple of families who made fortunes in the gold mining business and they donated the land so the town could be rebuilt there. The few houses that were not destroyed were moved after the new town was laid out. For this reason, Valdez had unusually wide streets and more of “planned” look to it than most towns that just grew up.

 

 

 

After leaving Valdez we camped and did a car trip into the Wrangell-St Elias National Park and the towns of McCarthy and Kennecott. This involved a sixty mile drive on the McCarthy Road. The road is gravel, and where it is not washboarded it is potholed. Furthermore it is an old railroad bed and the old rail spikes work their way up through the gravel resulting in an abundance of flat tires. (Joan didn’t tell me this until we drove it both ways.) The Kennecott Copper Corp began doing business here in the early 1900’s and the operation continued until the 1930’s when the ore was depleted. Because of the remote location everything used in the mining operation was just left behind when the company pulled out. Today the national park service is stabilizing the buildings and preserving things just as they were. It is a fascinating operation to see. While we were in Kennecott I was looking at an old peice of machinery and trying to figure out what it was used for. Joan had no interest in it so she went down a little road behind the building to check out the view of the glacier below. When she topped the hill she saw a bear about 200 feet below her. Joan used to be a good competitive runner, but now she claims her knees are too bad to run. However, I heard her yell at me and when I looked up she was coming toward me and exhibiting the same running speed that used to win her all of those trophies.

 

 

 

Our final adventure in Alaska was yesterday in the town of Chicken. Chicken is a tiny town way up in the mountains between Alaska and the Yukon Territory in Canada. It has a full time population of 15 which swells to 25 to 30 in the tourist season. It is about sixty five miles from Tok on a road that is closed all winter. They say that in the winter it gets to about eighty below zero. There are no inside toilets in the town and all communication with the outside world is via satellite which is sketchy on overcast days. Gold was discovered near there about five years before the Klondike gold rush. And even today there are some who pan for gold and must find enough to provide a living. Why name your town Chicken? When it was settled the residents wanted to name it Ptarmigan after the northern type of grouse with the feathered legs. However, nobody involved in the naming process was exactly sure how to spell Ptarmigan. So finally they said the hell with it and named it Chicken which is another name that some people of that day used for Ptarmigan. In the center of town is a large statue of a chicken that was fabricated in Homer out of old student lockers from the high school there. It was then transported to Chicken. Im guessing that is a distance of close to three hundred miles.

 

 

 

 

I’ve gotten lots of positive feedback on this blog. People seem to be enjoying reading it. And even though the Alaska portion of the journey is over I plan to continue posting as we head down the coast through Washington, Oregon and California (unless we’ve sold California by then). Along the way we plan to hit as many national parks as is practical and camp in as many state parks as can accommodate our motorhome. So stay tuned.

Glaciers, Gold and Knives

I believe it was Einstein who said that insanity (or perhaps stupidity) is doing the same thing over and over again, and expecting a different result.  I’ve usually heard this mentioned in conjunction with an election wherein we the people keep sending the same bad politicians back to Washington and then spend the next two, four or six years complaining about the terrible job they are doing.  One politician in particular springs to my mind at the moment.  Currently though what made me think of Einstein’s expression is shopping for a new kitchen knife.

When we outfitted the motorhome we bought mostly cheap and lightweight items thinking that they would be infrequently used and high quality stuff was not necessary.  So our kitchen knife probably came from Walmart or another discount store.  Slicing potatoes or onions with it could be accomplished just as well with a wooden spoon.  When I thought about this trip I thought about replacing the knife.  But I figured that since we were headed to Alaska I would be able to find some outdoorsy type of craftsman that made his own high quality knives and I would buy one of those.  And I have seen some up here.  But they have all been fancy highly polished or chromed steel blades embossed with an outdoor scene and mounted in a bone handle or an elkhorn handle and priced at $175 or more.  Not really the kind of knife you want to carelessly throw in the drawer with your spatula and can opener, so I have passed on them.

While we were spending four nights in Anchorage I saw that there is a Cabela’s store there.  I thought that I could probably pick up a fish filleting knife there for $15-20 that would be sharp and last me until I can get back home and buy a good kitchen knife.  So, off we go to Cabela’s.  The first thing Joan said when we went in was that we should separate, and I could call her on the cell when I was ready to go.  She headed for the clothing and shoe departments and I headed for the fishing gear.  There were no knives in the fishing section so I had to look elsewhere.  Finally I found them, picked up a nice one for $18 and called Joan.  She told me that she was in the fitting room, and I knew I was in trouble.  I’ve already described to you in an earlier post the visit Joan, Mandy and I made to a Cabela’s store in Nebraska several years ago.  At that time I had to take out a second mortgage on our house to get home!  This one was not quite that bad, but my cheap filleting knife still ended up costing me $174.  Do you see the similarity between that amount and the cost of the really fancy handcrafted elk handled knife I could have bought?  This is where Einstein had it right.

Before arriving in Anchorage we spent four nights in Palmer.  Palmer was somewhat interesting partly because it was a town that was settled during the Great Depression by homesteaders.  The federal government persuaded “farm types” from Minnesota, Michigan and Wisconsin to travel to Palmer to settle in the area.  Upon arrival they learned that the area was not exactly as the government had described it, (surprise surprise!) and almost one third of them returned home.  However, enough stayed to settle the area and their descendents are still there and very proud of their heritage.  I’ve never really thought of Alaska as an agricultural state, but the Palmer area is escpecially suited for it.  The soil is rich and the average of 19 hours per day of sunlight in the summer makes it ideal.  The literature on the area describes record setting 60 pound heads of cabbage and carrots weighing 8 pounds.

A few miles outside of Palmer we were able to visit the remains of an abandoned gold mine that is now a state park.  It was actually a productive mine in the 1930’s to the 1950’s and employed several hundred people.  Much of the equipment and ancillary buildings are still there and there were also a few people actually panning the stream that ran though it for gold.  I did not see any of them jump up and yell “Eureka!!” so I’m assuming they were not having much luck.

 

On another day we headed out of Palmer in a differrent direction and we were able to drive close and then walk right up to a glacier.  This particular glacier was in retreat as so many are, and the area below it reminded me of a West Virginia strip mine.  Not exactly the most beautiful sight but, I guess its a similar process that causes both, one man made, the other natural.  We could have donned ice crampons and climbed right up onto the ice.  We chose not to do that because the idea of trying to drive WildaBeast back to Florida with a broken leg made me hesitate.

 

 

 

After Palmer we spent four days in Anchorage.  The highlight of those days for me was a car trip to Whittier and a five hour glacier viewing cruise that we took.  The road to Whittier involves a two and one half mile one lane tunnel that motor vehicles also share with the trains.  Going to Whittier they open the tunnel for cars on the hour.  You drive up to the tunnel entrance and get in line and when the clock strikes the hour they open the gates and you can drive through.  Coming out of Whittier it is the same process, but it is on the half hour.  However, if a train comes up going either way, it takes priority over motor vehicles.

The glacier cruise out of Whittier was just fantastic and is probably the highlight of the whole trip so far for me.  It tooks us to 26 different glaciers.  We got to “park” within 1/4 mile of a very active calving glacier.  The day was overcast which is supposedly the best conditions for seeing the deep blue of some of the most dense ice.  Along the way we also saw humpback whales, sea otters, sea lions, and bald eagles.  There was also a forest ranger on the cruise and her narration and pointing out interesting features along the way made the experience that much more enjoyable.

From Anchorage we have since moved on to Soldotna in the Kenai Peninsula where I am writing this.  In addition to the spectacular scenery, including our first good look at a bull moose, the fishing here in the Kenai looks to be just outstanding.  The salmon are running everywhere.  I have not fished because I disposed of all of my gear when I left West Virginia.  Its probably just as well because Joan would probably not be able to pull me away from it in time for us to head out of here and get south before the snow flies.  On the other hand I could stop at Cabela’s to pick some up, but you and I both know now how that would end.

 

NO Luck in Denali

I am writing this from Palmer, Alaska where we arrived this morning from Wasilla.  Palmer is around 50 miles outside of Anchorage.

Joan and I have now been on the road two months along with our dog, Daisy.  We may not quite like each other as well as we did when we left Ponce Inlet, but I think we will still be able to make the marriage endure.  I guess there are some little things that irritate with so much time together, even in a 44 year marriage.  For instance—when after a long day of driving I stop and the car battery is dead, I am pretty apt to utter words Joan does not use and does not like to hear from me.  But at the moment it makes me feel better even though she gets irritated with me.  And then there is Joan’s habit of having to read OUT LOUD every road sign that we pass.  She’s been doing this ever since I have known her, and on a one or two day trip it is fine.  But do you have any idea how many road signs we have passed on this 6,000 mile (so far) drive?!?!  And she reads them with such enthusiam too!—like its the most amazing road sign ever!

When we arrive at a new campground we have certain tasks that need to be performed to get set up for the evening.  There is always an electric line to be plugged in, circuit breakers to be switched on, and a water hose to be connected between the motorhome and camp water supply, and usually a sewer line to deal with.  Most other wives that I see in campers stay inside during this process, but Joan likes to come out with me and help, and I certainly appreciate her doing that.  Now, I don’t know if I have previously mentioned Joan’s mechanical abilities.  Probably not because she is just a tad weak in that area.  Lately she has started hooking up the water line.  About 95% of the time she turns the connection the wrong way.  And I’m there with my smart ass comment that “this is not rocket science”.  Its “righty tighty and lefty loosey”.  Then in typical woman fashion she begins arguing with me about which way is right and which way is left!!  And she points out to me that she actually knows TWO real life rocket scientists.

Speaking of rocket science, when I was in the 6th grade at First Ward Elementary School in Elkins, West Virginia my teacher was Mr. Pingley.  I remember him coming in one day, and he was all disturbed about the Soviets launching Sputnik, the first satellite.  He was quite alarmed that they were so far ahead of us Americans in the space and technology area.  I, on the other hand had just begun to look at some of my classmates (with names like Joyce Mullins, Linda Gibson or Shiela Hall) in a different manner.  The girls were on my mind and I could not get too excited about Sputnik.  I mention this because today I have become so dependent on satellites.  I’m not sure I could have gotten up here without my GPS to guide me.  And Wilda has a satellite system on the roof wherein I push a button inside the coach and the satellite dish raises up, looks around and locks onto a TV signal.  And as we drive along we can be listening to satellite radio from Sirius.  When we were up in Fairbanks (as far north as we went) neither the TV nor the radio could receive signals because the curvature of the earth blocked the reception.  There were satellite dishes up there, but where we have one that measures maybe 18 inches, those were about 3-1/2 feet in diameter, and rather than look up into the sky as they do elsewhere, up there they actually appeared to be looking at the ground.  Maybe Joan can get one of her two rocket scientist friends to explain to me how that works.

The day we left Fairbanks en route to Denali National Park it was raining and foggy.  But by the end of the relatively short 100 mile drive the sun had come out.  Access to Denali is much more limited than other national parks.  There is essentially one road into the interior and it is about 90 miles long, but with only the first 15 miles paved and open to private vehicles.  With an afternoon to kill, and it being a nice day, we drove the 15 miles and enjoyed the scenery.  We did not see any wildlife, but got some decent views of Mt. McKinley, the tallest peak in North America.  The weather forecast for the next day was iffy, but we decided to buy tickets for a 130 mile round trip bus ride into the park interior on the following day.  The departure was for 9:30AM, returning at 5:30PM, but in the middle of the night it started raining really hard.  But we were committed and stuck with our plan.  We made arrangements with the campground to have Daisy walked in the afternoon, we put a meal in the crock pot for our 5:30 return and headed out figuring how bad can it be??  Well, it turned out to be the bus ride from hell.  The bus driver was a nice guy and told us that the first part of the ride on the paved road rarely yielded much wildlife viewing, but after that on the gravel portion we should see, moose, caribou, grizzly bears and Dahl sheep.  He was almost sure that they would be out in the wet weather because it was cooler.  He was right about the beginning of the ride. We saw nothing at all on the first 15 miles.  And once we hit the gravel portion of the wet road the bus started kicking up a muddy spray that soon coated all of the side windows leaving no visibility.  The driver noted that, apologized, and told us we could squeegee them off at the upcoming rest stops.  We all did that at the first rest stop about 30 miles into the ride even though by now the rain had really picked up and a low fog had settled in.  Mt. McKinley was nowhere to be seen in the fog.  Just about as soon as we started driving again the windows were muddied as bad as before the cleaning.  Then we arrived at the second rest stop which was about 55 miles into the 65 mile one way trip.  Again we cleaned the windows and just as the bus was about ready to pull out the driver was radioed that there was an accident up ahead involving construction vehicles that had overturned and were blocking the road.  He was instructed to stay put.  Which we did for the next two and one half hours.  This meant that we would now be returning at 8:00PM rather than 5:30.  So much for our crock pot dinner, and we were worried about the now “regular” Daisy going that long without being out.  Once the road reopened and buses that had departed ahead of ours started returning we managed to get a seat on one, and head back early without completing the trip.  We got back around 7:00PM, salvaged the crock pot meal and Daisy was fine.  On the bright side, we met another couple on the bus who are motorhoming from California (surprisingly they’re not fruits, nuts or flakes) and we have been having some good times with them.  And once we left Denali, the weather improved and we got some beautiful pictures of Mt. McKinly on our drive down to Wasilla the following day.

 

 

 

Someone asked me if we were staying with the Palins in Wasilla.  We drove all over town trying to hook up with Sarah and get invited to stay or at least have dinner with she and Todd, but no such luck.  We did visit the Iditerod headquarters in Wasilla, and saw some interesting exhibits about the race.  They even had some dogs there in training and you could get a ride behind them in one of the wheeled sleds they use to train.  The dogs were smaller than I expected.  Not much bigger than Daisy’s sixty pounds, but looked like they could run forever, which is what they do I guess.  I also noted that beside many of the roads around Wasilla there are dirt tracks like bike trails that they use for training the sled dogs.  They are really into that sport in this immediate area.

One thing that has surprised me up here and seems to be a sign of the times is the number of people living permanently in these campgrounds in very old and decrepit campers.  Several of the campgrounds seem to rent spaces in the interior to overnight travelers such as us, and rent the perimeter spots to folks who are down on their luck.  I’ve seen that in the lower 48 as well, but its not as prevalent as here.  And I cannot even imagine spending a winter  here in some of these units I have seen.

 

Even though we did not see a bull moose in Denali or anywhere else on the trip so far, Joan thinks she has seen some signs that they are around the area.