Day 13-15: Watson Lake to Anchorage

Anchorage aweigh! And the journey was far from uneventful.

Campsites are ranked by the amenities they offer. Our Watson Lake campground had been designated “primitive,” in that there was no potable water available. We used an old pump with a lever arm to draw pale yellow water from a well and boiled it for 10 minutes to kill the bacteria. We camped on the shores of Watson Lake itself, and spent the evening sitting out at a dock watching the sun set and the bald eagles swooping over the water. In the morning we fueled up and set off for Whitehorse, Jen’s ultimate bike destination (readers should note that she planned to BIKE an extremely mountainous route that had taken us 5 days to DRIVE- that’s the distance from Tampa, FL to Boston, MA).

At 6pm we reached Whitehorse. Torrential rains effectively quashed our plans to camp, so we pressed on to Tok, Alaska. We arrived at the American border with the Star Spangled Banner blaring from Madison’s iPod as loud as it would go. The border guards welcomed us warmly back into the United States, and we began a list of reasons we were happy to be back in America. Chief among them were that we could buy gasoline in gallons, and we didn’t have to pay for it with Canada’s brightly colored monopoly money.

From the border it was a 90-mile jaunt to Tok, Alaska (pronounced Toke, sorry Chertok). It was still raining cats and dogs, so we tried to check in to a motel- all 5 were full. The hostess at Fast Eddy’s, a restaurant/hotel, recommended that we head over to the local watering hole for karaoke night, have a few drinks, and sleep in the Element in their parking lot. This was about the best option we had. “A pitcher of your finest!” I told the bartender, as Madison and I steeled ourselves for a chilly night in the car. We were at the bar next to two surveyors, whose job it was to drop from a helicopter with chainsaws, clear a landing pad in the middle of the wilderness so it could land, draw a few maps, and repeat. The recession hasn’t touched rural Alaska, as people here already live under pretty serious conditions- although the pay is excellent (waitresses make $7.75/hr plus tips, and it goes up from there), the weather and the long winters are quite trying, to say the least. I may take a peek at job opportunities on the oil rigs.

Madison and I were in the middle of a spirited karaoke rendition of “Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy” when the hostess from Fast Eddy’s walked in. Her name was Kayleen, and we spent the evening hanging out with her and her girlfriends. They were all related by blood, marriage, or both. Madison and I quickly gave up on trying to learn their intricate web of familial ties. All of a sudden a middle aged Toker (that’s what they’re called. Seriously, you can’t make this stuff up) named Judy came in with a big aluminum foil package and slammed it down on our table. “Halibut dip! She exclaimed, and opened the pouch- it was a plate of thick tortilla chips covered in white dip. She listed the ingredients: sour cream, chives, green onions, garlic, jalapenos, and lots of halibut. “Not that [expletive deleted] excuse for Halibut the Japanese trawl up,” she fumed, “REAL Alaskan halibut. Those [expletive deleted]ers weigh 200lbs plus.” John, a local Alaska Native (That's the ethnic group, as opposed to Native Alaskans, who just live here) who was sitting at our table, said that he fishes for halibut with a pistol- “Once they’re on deck, they’ll keep fighting and ya got to shoot ‘em,” he added. To describe halibut dip as ‘delicious’ would be an egregious understatement.

Last call was just after 3am. It was still light out. Kayleen apologized from turning us away at her hotel, and offered us a spot on her couch. We gratefully accepted, and piled in to the Element. In the morning we left for Anchorage, where we met Madison’s cousin Allison, her husband Mark, and three of their children, Mason, Isaac, and Marilynn, all about our age. We’d noticed a curious phenomenon as we drove in… all of the road signs were riddled with bullet holes, many of them from pretty heavy-caliber weaponry. Mark explained that in the winter it was too windy for road signs, and that civic-minded Alaskans take it upon themselves to perforate them they drive by. “It reduces wind resistance,” he told us.

Save for a quick skinny dip in the thermal springs at Liard, in the Yukon Territory, we hadn’t bathed in nearly a week. I felt like a new man after a shower and shave. Mason took us to a local brewery to fill up two growlers of beer. He likes the outdoors, good food, photography, music and microbrews- I knew right away that the three of us were going to get along fabulously. With his help, we’ll be performing extensive scientific analysis of Alaska’s breweries from Anchorage to Homer. We returned from the Midnight Sun Brewery with two growlers (each about 5 pints) of Sockeye Red IPA and Kodiak Brown. They were fabulous complements to sweet corn and home-smoked BBQ pork of a caliber you wouldn’t expect to find outside of Georgia or the Carolinas.

After dinner we hiked down to the bay behind Allison's house, then went to see several of Mason’s friends’ band playing at a pub called Chilkoot Charlie’s. Koot’s was the biggest bar in Anchorage- it had two stages and 7 or 8 rooms with uniquely themed bars. There was an island-themed tiki bar, a rusty old icecream truck that had been converted into a bar, a Soviet-themed bar full of Red Army memorabilia, a normal bar, and the birdhouse bar, a dark, low-ceilinged cave with sawdust on the floor and countless articles of women’s underwear hanging from the walls and ceiling.

The first band on stage was Fortis Era, an all-girls rock band. They weren’t bad, but paled in comparison to the band Mason had brought us to see, The Audio. The Audio’s lead singer was a nicely-figured girl named Jenni who stomped around the stage in fishnets, glistening with sweat, a tattoo over her heart of the Big Dipper (it’s on Alaska’s flag) stating, “Alaska born and raised.” She had short blond hair and her voice reminded me of early Pink, but with a little more soul. I had a little crush on her by the time they finished their set.

This morning we’re doing laundry (finally) and taking the car in for a check-up at the local Honda dealership. After that, Mason and Allison are going to help us plan our itinerary for the next two weeks. Mason has offered to take us to the shooting range on Wednesday, and I’m looking forward to it with much enthusiasm. He’s got a comprehensive collection of firearms, and if possible I’d like to use some to help Alaska deal with their wind-resistant road sign problem.

Alaska is nothing short of spectacular. Never have I seen landscapes of such unimaginable majesty. It’s no surprise that people come to visit and never leave.