For me, the highlight was a tour of the vessel’s engine room. At 418 feet and 7,745 long tons, the M/V Columbia is the largest vessel on the Alaska Marine Highway System. She’s powered by twin Enterprises, massive 16-cylinder diesels with pistons the size of beer kegs, each the size of a locomotive and pushing out a combined 12,800 horsepower at 335rpms. That’s more than 50 Porsche 911s. Each mill sucks down 155 gallons of diesel per hour, which, when combined with the ship’s 12-cylinder generators, puts fuel consumption around 360 gallons every 60 minutes- that’s about 18 gallons per mile when she’s running all ahead full at 17 knots. The Honda Element weighs 4100lbs with our gear aboard, and we’re seeing about 23mpg, so the M/V Columbia gets about 26 times better gas mileage than we do on a kilogram-miles-per-hour basis.
We stopped in several small ports along the voyage, including Juneau, Sitka, Wrangell, and Ketchikan. Sitka and Ketchikan were the only daytime stops. At the former, we went for a hike and picked bright red salmonberries growing by the road- they were tangy and delicious. In Ketchikan, the purser pointed us in the direction of the town’s historic district, and recommended we walk down Creek Street. Ketchikan had been the seedy underbelly of the inside passage, and because of its remoteness had remained a near-lawless frontier settlement well into the 1950s. It was a center of prohibition-era smuggling, and the houses and saloons on Creek Street were built on stilts to allow boats to coast right up underneath. They would then transfer loads of booze into the houses and saloons through trapdoors in the floor. Prostitution, far from criminalized, was merely corralled into a designated area- that’s right, Creek Street. Outside the Ketchikan Prostitution Museum (on Creek Street, of course), a woman in the costume of a turn-of-the-century whore beckoned us inside. “Come on in, lads! There’s plenty of fun to be had in Dolly’s house!” Madison told her that we had to catch the boat. “So it’d just be a quickie then!” she giggled. We politely declined and hurried away.
On Friday we arrived in Bellingham and took the 90 minute drive to Nick’s house. He wouldn’t be home for a few more hours, but one of his roommates, Grant, invited us in and fixed us up with a cold beer and the laundry machine. Nick came home and fired up the grill for some tender BBQ chicken and baked beans. We met Dave, another of Nick’s roommates, and went to a nearby bar neighborhood called Freemont. Tiffany, Trevor, and Hayden joined us. One bar served 40s. We tore up the dance floor at another.
On Saturday Nick and I ran a few errands while Madison slept in. Ian Paeth and his friend Colleen came by the house to hang out for the afternoon. We cleaned and decked the house with American flags in preparation for the 4th, then went back to the Freemont bars when it got dark. Nick got tired and the rest of the boys were ready to go home, but Madbus, Paeth, Colleen and I were still full of energy and Saturday-night enthusiasm. We shepherded Griot into a cab and then grabbed our own taxi to a club in Belltown (a neighborhood of downtown Seattle). They officially observed the 2am “last call,” but there were sneaky waitresses disguised as patrons serving stealth-drinks.
July 4th dawned sunny, but quickly turned overcast and it rained most of the day. That didn’t stop us from BBQing, playing the Star Spangled Banner, and having a party at the house. Nick had been working on the place for a while, and it looks awesome- tastefully fratty yet adult, freshly painted, sheet rocked, and even vacuumed! We celebrated America’s awesomeness as hard as possible. Nick kindly re-buzzed my hair back down to a spiky #2. Tomorrow (Tuesday) we leave for Oregon to camp on the beaches Lizzy Cooke always talked about in college. Next we’ll head down to Sonoma to tube down the Russian River Valley with Madison’s cousin Emily and visit some wineries- most notably the prestigious Charles Shaw Vineyards.
Monday, July 5, 2010
Day 31-35: Madison's Examination of the Ferry
Many Alaskans care little for the governmental goings-on of the Lower 48, and people out in the villages are all but unaffected by national politics, except when they pertain to logging, drilling, mining, fishing, or firearms. In such cases Alaskans feel forgotten and bitter that politicians over 5000 miles away are making decisions that have such a huge impact on their lives. A new hunting regulation, for example, would have minimal impact to an average “lower 48er” but if you live a subsistence lifestyle in rural Alaska it has extreme impact and causes bad feelings toward the government.
As such, Alaska’s legislators wield a freer hand in Washington than their counterparts in more densely populated states- essentially, they get to vote ‘yes’ on a lot of things… and earn a lot of favors. In 2005, the US Department of Transportation recognized the Alaska ferry system, known as the Alaska Marine Highway, as an “All -American Road,” qualifying it for federal funding. Every other road in this program has pavement, road signs, maybe a few gas stations along its sides. Apparently exceptions can be made.
At the recommendation of a dockworker, we staked out a pair of lawn chairs in the aft solarium, a partially-enclosed space at the rear of the ship. It would be our home for then next 4 nights. We dined on fruit, cereal, nuts, and PB&Js. As an extra treat, we brought some summer sausage and gnawed on it like cave men.
There are two main groups of passengers on the ferry, ones who have staterooms and ones who do not. Of the later group, which we were a part of, there are three sub-groups based on where you decide to sleep, people who sleep inside the boat on recliner chairs, people who pitch a tent and sleep in an area affectionately known as “tent-city,” and people who roll out their sleeping bags in the solarium. Each area is self-policed with self-coronated leaders. A resident of tent city complained one night that she was scolded by its “mayor” for being too loud at 9:30 PM… heinous.
The ferry left last Monday night at 7PM from Haines, Alaska and promised a beautiful 85 hour journey through the inside passage of Alaska and British Columbia. The boat was utilitarian and boasted few amenities compared to the mega cruise ships that regularly travel the inside passage. We knew the boat within 30 minutes of boarding. It is a place where you have to make your own fun. We were well-prepared, having visited a local microbrewery in Haines to pick up a couple growlers of high-quality ale. I finally read In to the Wild and was reprimanded by a native Alaskan for being the quintessential tourist.
As such, Alaska’s legislators wield a freer hand in Washington than their counterparts in more densely populated states- essentially, they get to vote ‘yes’ on a lot of things… and earn a lot of favors. In 2005, the US Department of Transportation recognized the Alaska ferry system, known as the Alaska Marine Highway, as an “All -American Road,” qualifying it for federal funding. Every other road in this program has pavement, road signs, maybe a few gas stations along its sides. Apparently exceptions can be made.
At the recommendation of a dockworker, we staked out a pair of lawn chairs in the aft solarium, a partially-enclosed space at the rear of the ship. It would be our home for then next 4 nights. We dined on fruit, cereal, nuts, and PB&Js. As an extra treat, we brought some summer sausage and gnawed on it like cave men.
There are two main groups of passengers on the ferry, ones who have staterooms and ones who do not. Of the later group, which we were a part of, there are three sub-groups based on where you decide to sleep, people who sleep inside the boat on recliner chairs, people who pitch a tent and sleep in an area affectionately known as “tent-city,” and people who roll out their sleeping bags in the solarium. Each area is self-policed with self-coronated leaders. A resident of tent city complained one night that she was scolded by its “mayor” for being too loud at 9:30 PM… heinous.
The ferry left last Monday night at 7PM from Haines, Alaska and promised a beautiful 85 hour journey through the inside passage of Alaska and British Columbia. The boat was utilitarian and boasted few amenities compared to the mega cruise ships that regularly travel the inside passage. We knew the boat within 30 minutes of boarding. It is a place where you have to make your own fun. We were well-prepared, having visited a local microbrewery in Haines to pick up a couple growlers of high-quality ale. I finally read In to the Wild and was reprimanded by a native Alaskan for being the quintessential tourist.
Monday, June 28, 2010
Day 28-31: Anchorage to Haines, AK
Our time in Anchorage ran out far too quickly. A friend once told me it was better to leave the party a little early, for you'll remember your experience that much more fondly. She's right. Madison and I bid a warm farewell to our hosts and loaded up the car for the return journey. Allison, the consummate nurturer, made sure that Madison bought a warm coat for the ferry ride and sent us off with a cache of nonperishable provisions big enough to restock MacArthur's G.I.'s on Bataan. Mason burned us a mix CD that included one of The Audio's songs and a Flyleaf number- sadly, he didn't have a copy of The Rogues' and Wenches' Finest Sea Shanties.
Our first day of driving bought us back to Tok, where we ate dinner at Fast Eddy's and revisited The Lodge Bar for another round of ales with some folks we had met in Tok two weeks before, Kayleen and Mary. We visited Judy's shack for more of her delicious homemade halibut dip. Against all odds, I also managed to recover a hoodie I had left in the town. Saturday morning dawned crisp and sunny (dawned is too strong a word. It never got dark in the first place), and we headed northeast towards Haines Junction. There's pretty much only one road in and out of Alaska, and we had to drive a day and a half northeast in order to backtrack down another highway south and west to Haines (note: Haines and Haines Junction are two different towns). It was necessary to reenter Canada in order to loop down and back into lower Alaska. We cringed at the thought. But at least Madison had the chance to spend the rest of his monopoly money.
Treacherous frost heaves nonwithstanding, it was nice to be back on the Alaska Highway. Frost heaves are an interesting phenomenon- glacial soil is relatively porous, and the suspended water freezes and expands under the road, lifting the pavement. In the spring, the ice melts and the weight of the asphalt crashes down and compresses the soil, leaving an undulating ribbon of bouncy asphalt that can launch a car upward with axle-breaking force. Imagine driving up the slicing edge of a humongous cheese grater. And that's in the areas where the road is actually paved- much of the Alcan Highway is still gravel. It was slow going. Although the Army Corps of Engineers had done the best they could, Alaska was, and remains, a largely untamable land. Most rivers and streams had signs that announced their names. We passed Dry Creek Bed #1, shortly followed by Dry Creek Bed #2. I was duly impressed by the Army's creativity- what incredibly imaginative names!
We arrived in Haines, Alaska on Saturday evening. Madison wasn't feeling well, so we splurged on a pair of hostel beds for the night. It was refreshing to shave and shower. On Sunday we walked around town, visited the local library, and made camp at Chilkoot Lake, a beautiful National Park with a glacial lake and excellent salmon fishing. Bald eagles soared overhead as I grilled a pair of steaks to celebrate our last night on the Alaskan mainland- a New York Strip for Madison and a succulent T-bone for me, both served rare. Delish. Our boat was scheduled to depart on Monday evening. The men in the campsite nextdoor would be on the ferry as well, and I talked with one of them about classic cars for a while while Madison built a fire.
This morning, we woke up before 7, struck camp, and headed into town so Madison could get his coffee fix. I paid $2 to use the weight room at the local high school, and it felt GREAT to work up a sweat. Too bad Kerri wasn't here to play racquetball. I would have liked to beat soundly as I so often do in Atlanta. After my lift, I walked nextdoor to the community pool to shower, but it was closed. A striking blond around my age was sunbathing outside. I didn't understand how she planned to get tan in a one-piece, but hey- it's Alaska. She called the pool director down and let me in.
After the shower, I headed over to the local library to meet Madison. We're now waiting for the town's brewery to open at 1pm, where we'll refill our growlers with fine Alaskan lagers for the ferry ride. The State Ferry steams from Haines tonight at 7pm, with us and the Element aboard, and arrives in Bellingham, Washington, in 5 days. Ever wary of scurvy, Allison packed us a bunch of oranges. Instead of booking a stateroom, we decided to save $1500 by pitching our tent on the deck of the ferry. Even though I worked out today, it'd be very hard to hammer tent stakes into diamondplate steel. Instead, we had to get duct tape to hold our "cabin" to the ship. The Gasparilla Pirate Festival this past January allowed me to brush up on my pirate lexicon in preparation for the voyage. Hopefully the crew of the M/V Columbia is ready for us. All hands to the mainsail, make ready the guns! ...And run out the sweeps!
In Seattle, we'll be staying with my freshman roommate Nick- he's as rabid an automotive zealot as I am, and it's with no small amount of enthusiasm that I'm looking forward to seeing him at the end of the week. When I visited in 2007 we'd installed a Saleen supercharger in a brand new Mustang, along with rerouting coolant lines, adding a secondary radiator, repositioning the alternator, and more. I had to fly back to Atlanta just before the project was finished, and am totally stoked to get behind the wheel of the killer supercharged 'Stang we built 3 years ago. Based on the mechanical specs and Nick's descriptions, I know the Ford is going to be the fastest car I've ever driven: a beast uncaged, a roaring, muscular, insanely powerful tire-shredding speed machine with no legitimate business on any road in this world or the next. He's also got a drop-dead gorgeous '71 Camaro named Bernadette that he restored himself. Both are yellow. Both are awesome. Step 1: Apply clutch. Step 2: Engage 1st gear. Step 3: Open throttle. Step 4: Drop clutch. Unleash hell.
America is my favorite country, and the 4th of July is my favorite holiday. It is also Nick's favorite country and holiday. Several years ago he showed up to Madbus's Communist-Party-themed birthday wearing an American flag as a cape. I could think of no better person with which to spend Independence Day. It is likely that we will celebrate in the manner that characterized our friendship in college. "I bet you guys make great decisions together," his friend Kirsten's mother mused 2005. His reply: "Stellar."
Our first day of driving bought us back to Tok, where we ate dinner at Fast Eddy's and revisited The Lodge Bar for another round of ales with some folks we had met in Tok two weeks before, Kayleen and Mary. We visited Judy's shack for more of her delicious homemade halibut dip. Against all odds, I also managed to recover a hoodie I had left in the town. Saturday morning dawned crisp and sunny (dawned is too strong a word. It never got dark in the first place), and we headed northeast towards Haines Junction. There's pretty much only one road in and out of Alaska, and we had to drive a day and a half northeast in order to backtrack down another highway south and west to Haines (note: Haines and Haines Junction are two different towns). It was necessary to reenter Canada in order to loop down and back into lower Alaska. We cringed at the thought. But at least Madison had the chance to spend the rest of his monopoly money.
Treacherous frost heaves nonwithstanding, it was nice to be back on the Alaska Highway. Frost heaves are an interesting phenomenon- glacial soil is relatively porous, and the suspended water freezes and expands under the road, lifting the pavement. In the spring, the ice melts and the weight of the asphalt crashes down and compresses the soil, leaving an undulating ribbon of bouncy asphalt that can launch a car upward with axle-breaking force. Imagine driving up the slicing edge of a humongous cheese grater. And that's in the areas where the road is actually paved- much of the Alcan Highway is still gravel. It was slow going. Although the Army Corps of Engineers had done the best they could, Alaska was, and remains, a largely untamable land. Most rivers and streams had signs that announced their names. We passed Dry Creek Bed #1, shortly followed by Dry Creek Bed #2. I was duly impressed by the Army's creativity- what incredibly imaginative names!
We arrived in Haines, Alaska on Saturday evening. Madison wasn't feeling well, so we splurged on a pair of hostel beds for the night. It was refreshing to shave and shower. On Sunday we walked around town, visited the local library, and made camp at Chilkoot Lake, a beautiful National Park with a glacial lake and excellent salmon fishing. Bald eagles soared overhead as I grilled a pair of steaks to celebrate our last night on the Alaskan mainland- a New York Strip for Madison and a succulent T-bone for me, both served rare. Delish. Our boat was scheduled to depart on Monday evening. The men in the campsite nextdoor would be on the ferry as well, and I talked with one of them about classic cars for a while while Madison built a fire.
This morning, we woke up before 7, struck camp, and headed into town so Madison could get his coffee fix. I paid $2 to use the weight room at the local high school, and it felt GREAT to work up a sweat. Too bad Kerri wasn't here to play racquetball. I would have liked to beat soundly as I so often do in Atlanta. After my lift, I walked nextdoor to the community pool to shower, but it was closed. A striking blond around my age was sunbathing outside. I didn't understand how she planned to get tan in a one-piece, but hey- it's Alaska. She called the pool director down and let me in.
After the shower, I headed over to the local library to meet Madison. We're now waiting for the town's brewery to open at 1pm, where we'll refill our growlers with fine Alaskan lagers for the ferry ride. The State Ferry steams from Haines tonight at 7pm, with us and the Element aboard, and arrives in Bellingham, Washington, in 5 days. Ever wary of scurvy, Allison packed us a bunch of oranges. Instead of booking a stateroom, we decided to save $1500 by pitching our tent on the deck of the ferry. Even though I worked out today, it'd be very hard to hammer tent stakes into diamondplate steel. Instead, we had to get duct tape to hold our "cabin" to the ship. The Gasparilla Pirate Festival this past January allowed me to brush up on my pirate lexicon in preparation for the voyage. Hopefully the crew of the M/V Columbia is ready for us. All hands to the mainsail, make ready the guns! ...And run out the sweeps!
In Seattle, we'll be staying with my freshman roommate Nick- he's as rabid an automotive zealot as I am, and it's with no small amount of enthusiasm that I'm looking forward to seeing him at the end of the week. When I visited in 2007 we'd installed a Saleen supercharger in a brand new Mustang, along with rerouting coolant lines, adding a secondary radiator, repositioning the alternator, and more. I had to fly back to Atlanta just before the project was finished, and am totally stoked to get behind the wheel of the killer supercharged 'Stang we built 3 years ago. Based on the mechanical specs and Nick's descriptions, I know the Ford is going to be the fastest car I've ever driven: a beast uncaged, a roaring, muscular, insanely powerful tire-shredding speed machine with no legitimate business on any road in this world or the next. He's also got a drop-dead gorgeous '71 Camaro named Bernadette that he restored himself. Both are yellow. Both are awesome. Step 1: Apply clutch. Step 2: Engage 1st gear. Step 3: Open throttle. Step 4: Drop clutch. Unleash hell.
America is my favorite country, and the 4th of July is my favorite holiday. It is also Nick's favorite country and holiday. Several years ago he showed up to Madbus's Communist-Party-themed birthday wearing an American flag as a cape. I could think of no better person with which to spend Independence Day. It is likely that we will celebrate in the manner that characterized our friendship in college. "I bet you guys make great decisions together," his friend Kirsten's mother mused 2005. His reply: "Stellar."
Madison on Denali: A Naturalist's Perspective
Denali...
Everyone who travels to the interior of Alaska is almost expected to visit Denali National Park. Its name alone inspires ones imagination of a place larger than life and wilderness at its most untamed. Ian and I had planned to visit Denali as a part of our journey. Mason and Isaac, my step second cousins had never been, although they were life long Alaska residents, and decided to come along. After a 5 hour drive north from Anchorage we arrived at the visitors center, checked in for our campsite, and waited for our bus to Wonder Lake, an 89 mile drive from the park's entrance. I assumed that the ride would take a mere 2 hours but was quickly informed that our trip would be about a 6 hour trip. We all looked at each other with the feeling of surprise and not the good kind...
These feelings quickly dissipated as we began our journey. The scenery along the park road was spectacular to say the least. As we continued further I felt a sense of calm and tranquility wash over me. The land was slowly cleansing my mind of any thoughts of the outside world. Denali is a place where humans are vulnerable to the whims of nature.
The feeling of calm turned into elation as we saw wildlife you only see on the Discovery Channel. I know Ian discussed this in depth, but we not only saw wildlife: we saw them interact. I felt like I was in a wonderland, a literal dream coming true.
Along the journey to Wonder Lake, the bus made a number of scheduled stops to pick up passengers and to allow us to stretch our legs on the long trip. About 4.5 hours in, our driver told us we would be making a half hour stop at the Eielson Visitors Center. I wondered why such a long stop. We arrived and immediately realized the long prescribed time. Upon exiting the bus I saw a quotation chiseled into the granite of the visitors center which read "Unimpaired for the enjoyment of future generations." On the steps leading down to the observation deck there was another quotation by John Muir, "When one tugs at a single thing in nature, he finds it attached to the rest of the world." I looked up, saw the vista, and tears came to my eyes. Never before had I seen such vast wilderness which held such extreme beauty. The whole scene completely and totally overwhelmed me. It was nature at its purest and finest.
The connection I felt to Denali is something I have never experienced before. It is a place with such power and beauty. It holds the tallest mountain in the world, superior wildlife, and a spirit that is palpable. And as I hope the quotation at the Eielson Visitors Center holds true, Denali will be around for generations to come, unspoiled and life changing.
Everyone who travels to the interior of Alaska is almost expected to visit Denali National Park. Its name alone inspires ones imagination of a place larger than life and wilderness at its most untamed. Ian and I had planned to visit Denali as a part of our journey. Mason and Isaac, my step second cousins had never been, although they were life long Alaska residents, and decided to come along. After a 5 hour drive north from Anchorage we arrived at the visitors center, checked in for our campsite, and waited for our bus to Wonder Lake, an 89 mile drive from the park's entrance. I assumed that the ride would take a mere 2 hours but was quickly informed that our trip would be about a 6 hour trip. We all looked at each other with the feeling of surprise and not the good kind...
These feelings quickly dissipated as we began our journey. The scenery along the park road was spectacular to say the least. As we continued further I felt a sense of calm and tranquility wash over me. The land was slowly cleansing my mind of any thoughts of the outside world. Denali is a place where humans are vulnerable to the whims of nature.
The feeling of calm turned into elation as we saw wildlife you only see on the Discovery Channel. I know Ian discussed this in depth, but we not only saw wildlife: we saw them interact. I felt like I was in a wonderland, a literal dream coming true.
Along the journey to Wonder Lake, the bus made a number of scheduled stops to pick up passengers and to allow us to stretch our legs on the long trip. About 4.5 hours in, our driver told us we would be making a half hour stop at the Eielson Visitors Center. I wondered why such a long stop. We arrived and immediately realized the long prescribed time. Upon exiting the bus I saw a quotation chiseled into the granite of the visitors center which read "Unimpaired for the enjoyment of future generations." On the steps leading down to the observation deck there was another quotation by John Muir, "When one tugs at a single thing in nature, he finds it attached to the rest of the world." I looked up, saw the vista, and tears came to my eyes. Never before had I seen such vast wilderness which held such extreme beauty. The whole scene completely and totally overwhelmed me. It was nature at its purest and finest.
The connection I felt to Denali is something I have never experienced before. It is a place with such power and beauty. It holds the tallest mountain in the world, superior wildlife, and a spirit that is palpable. And as I hope the quotation at the Eielson Visitors Center holds true, Denali will be around for generations to come, unspoiled and life changing.
Sunday, June 27, 2010
Pictures: Denali Nat'l Park
Above, a mother grizzly bear. The brush she's sitting in is just shy of chest-deep to a human.
The view from our tent: Denali, AKA Mt. McKinley, at sunset.
From left: Madison, Isaac, Mason, and Ian at the Eielson Preserve, Denali National Park.
Another view of Mt. Eielson, Denali national Park.
A red fox (vulpes vulpes) with a ground squirrel (spermophilus parryii) in its jaws. We witnessed the chase and the kill- she'd moved with the speed and agility of... well, a fox.
Above, a kettlepond near our campsite at Wonder Lake. Kettleponds are formed when receding glaciers gouge out depressions. The ponds are filled with water as the leftover chunks of glacial debris begin to melt. They're eerily still.
Again, credit and thanks to Mason Perry for the photos.
Day 25-27, Denali Nat'l Park
On Tuesday Madison and I embarked on our epic and long-anticipated trip to Denali National Park, home of Mt. McKinley and one of the last remaining tracts of unspoiled wilderness in North America. We brought Ike and Mason with us- neither of them had been to Denali before, even though they were born and raised in Alaska. Madison and I understood: Even after living in Atlanta for 5 years, I still have yet to eat at the Varsity or see the World of Coke. There was substantial road construction on the Parks Highway, which winds north from Anchorage towards Denali and Fairbanks, AK. At the Irish pub with the pirate band we'd met a friend of Michelle's who drives a tractor trailer between Anchorage and Fairbanks- Monday through Thursday evenings he leaves with a tandem and returns around 3am with empty containers or fresh cargo. Rugged job, but necessary- almost all of Alaska's supplies are shipped in through Anchorage: millions of tons of food, clothing, machinery, and incidentals pass through the port each year, mostly to support the state's extraction industries. Michelle explained that the pay was excellent.
We arrived at Denali in the early afternoon, with tickets on a 2:00pm bus to our campground. In order to minimize environmental impact and avoid accidents on the unpaved mountain roads, the Parks Service doesn't allow autos in Denali. The bus driver loaded everyone's camping gear into the back of a dark green school bus and we lurched off down the bumpy dirt road to our campsite. No sooner had we gotten underway did we realize that the bus ride was 6 hours long. No one commented, but we hadn't expected such a grueling journey (rations: meager) and the air of situational resentment was palpable- until we realized how utterly spectacular the ride would be.
Now, we've seen some incredible landforms on this trip, and some pretty serious wildlife. But Denali National Park totally knocked it out of the (forgive me) park. Our bus driver was very informative, stopping for wildlife at every turn. I was glad that my mom had insisted I take binoculars, and shared them with our fellow passengers. We had seen a lot of bears, a substantial amount of moose, bald eagles, and caribou by this point in the trip, and Alaskan fauna had lost a bit of it's novelty... When the bus stopped at the top of our ridge and the driver pointed out a bear trundling across the plain below, many passengers crowded over to the windows. "This sort of stuff doesn't interest me anymore," said the driver, "It's a far-away bear (Mason termed far-away animals "nature blobs"). But we'll stop anyway, because this might be some of you folks' first bear sighting ever." I agreed- although I wasn't nearly as jaded as our guide, a bear munching on foliage represented nothing new- we were looking for the REAL action... and we got it.
A few hours further into the bus ride, after a run-in with some Dall's sheep, mountian goats, moose, and a couple more bears, we stopped on a mountainside overlooking a gravelly plain and a lazily meandering river. "There's a wolf den down there," said the driver, "Keep your eyes peeled." Sure enough, we saw a wolf trotting across the valley floor. Once our eyes had gotten accustomed to picking out the animal's shape, we noticed more. And more. And more. There were multiple adults and a whopping half-dozen pups! Most wolfpacks bear only a couple of puppies at a time: they represent a tremendous drain on the pack's resources, and wolves (like most large carnivorous mammals) must operate in an environment with the requisite carrying capacity in order to breed so prolifically. Such habitats are fast receding under the relentless onslaught of modern economics and industry, and there is no doubt in my mind that our children will never see such a healthy group.
Scant minutes later a monstrous grizzly bear reared up out of the brush uncomfortably close to our bus. The driver eased us to a stop and we watched as her cub ambled over. They pawed eachother and playfully teethed for a minute or two- until the mother lay back and the cub began to nurse! I was amazed. Even the bus driver had gotten up and pressed his binoculars to the window in awe. It was INSANE. After several long minutes they wandered off, and we sat there stunned. The bus reeked with a collective sense of "Holy crap, did that just happen?!?"
We arrived at Wonder Lake with empty stomachs. Madison, Ike, and Mason pitched the tents while I brewed up a hearty stew. We feasted. The mosquitos were atrocious, but we had brought plenty of DEET. Though terribly carcinogenic, it was a happy alternative to being airlifted into a tree and sucked dry by the hungry insects. Our camp was at the base of Denali, formerly known as Mt. McKinley but now restored to it's native name, meaning "The Big One." Denali was shrouded in fog, and we waited until 3am in hopes of the summit appearing. It teased us mercilessly, but in the morning I looked out of my tent and saw the massive peak against a cloudless sky. "MADBUS, WAKE UP!!!!" I shouted. He told me to shut up. I insisted, and he resentfully looked up. For several minutes we basked silently in the majesty of the world's tallest mountain (Everest is higher, not taller: imagine Kaufman standing on a chair- he'd still be short).
Two days of camping passed quickly, and before we knew it we were back on the bus to the ranger station. I wasn't sure that anything could top our bus ride out, until we saw an artic red fox sitting quietly at the side of the road, not 5 feet from us. "He's waiting for a squirrel, if he doesn't have his eye on one already," explained the driver. The fox immediately leapt up and FLEW off a few yards ahead of us. We saw a squirrel dart out of the bushes and into a little drainage culvert. The fox followed, and emerged a split second later, the wriggling squirrel clenched firmly in his smiling jaws. He gave it a quick snap with his neck and a few chews, then calmly trotted up the hillside, dug a little hole, and buried it for later. HOLY CRAP, DID THAT JUST HAPPEN?
We drove back to Anchorage in a daze. Nothing had prepared us for the park's pure and unadulterated natural beauty. It's a refreshing thought that much of Alaska's wilderness has been deemed protected, and that some semblance of America's pre-industrial splendor will remain, for better or for worse, under federal stewardship.
We arrived at Denali in the early afternoon, with tickets on a 2:00pm bus to our campground. In order to minimize environmental impact and avoid accidents on the unpaved mountain roads, the Parks Service doesn't allow autos in Denali. The bus driver loaded everyone's camping gear into the back of a dark green school bus and we lurched off down the bumpy dirt road to our campsite. No sooner had we gotten underway did we realize that the bus ride was 6 hours long. No one commented, but we hadn't expected such a grueling journey (rations: meager) and the air of situational resentment was palpable- until we realized how utterly spectacular the ride would be.
Now, we've seen some incredible landforms on this trip, and some pretty serious wildlife. But Denali National Park totally knocked it out of the (forgive me) park. Our bus driver was very informative, stopping for wildlife at every turn. I was glad that my mom had insisted I take binoculars, and shared them with our fellow passengers. We had seen a lot of bears, a substantial amount of moose, bald eagles, and caribou by this point in the trip, and Alaskan fauna had lost a bit of it's novelty... When the bus stopped at the top of our ridge and the driver pointed out a bear trundling across the plain below, many passengers crowded over to the windows. "This sort of stuff doesn't interest me anymore," said the driver, "It's a far-away bear (Mason termed far-away animals "nature blobs"). But we'll stop anyway, because this might be some of you folks' first bear sighting ever." I agreed- although I wasn't nearly as jaded as our guide, a bear munching on foliage represented nothing new- we were looking for the REAL action... and we got it.
A few hours further into the bus ride, after a run-in with some Dall's sheep, mountian goats, moose, and a couple more bears, we stopped on a mountainside overlooking a gravelly plain and a lazily meandering river. "There's a wolf den down there," said the driver, "Keep your eyes peeled." Sure enough, we saw a wolf trotting across the valley floor. Once our eyes had gotten accustomed to picking out the animal's shape, we noticed more. And more. And more. There were multiple adults and a whopping half-dozen pups! Most wolfpacks bear only a couple of puppies at a time: they represent a tremendous drain on the pack's resources, and wolves (like most large carnivorous mammals) must operate in an environment with the requisite carrying capacity in order to breed so prolifically. Such habitats are fast receding under the relentless onslaught of modern economics and industry, and there is no doubt in my mind that our children will never see such a healthy group.
Scant minutes later a monstrous grizzly bear reared up out of the brush uncomfortably close to our bus. The driver eased us to a stop and we watched as her cub ambled over. They pawed eachother and playfully teethed for a minute or two- until the mother lay back and the cub began to nurse! I was amazed. Even the bus driver had gotten up and pressed his binoculars to the window in awe. It was INSANE. After several long minutes they wandered off, and we sat there stunned. The bus reeked with a collective sense of "Holy crap, did that just happen?!?"
We arrived at Wonder Lake with empty stomachs. Madison, Ike, and Mason pitched the tents while I brewed up a hearty stew. We feasted. The mosquitos were atrocious, but we had brought plenty of DEET. Though terribly carcinogenic, it was a happy alternative to being airlifted into a tree and sucked dry by the hungry insects. Our camp was at the base of Denali, formerly known as Mt. McKinley but now restored to it's native name, meaning "The Big One." Denali was shrouded in fog, and we waited until 3am in hopes of the summit appearing. It teased us mercilessly, but in the morning I looked out of my tent and saw the massive peak against a cloudless sky. "MADBUS, WAKE UP!!!!" I shouted. He told me to shut up. I insisted, and he resentfully looked up. For several minutes we basked silently in the majesty of the world's tallest mountain (Everest is higher, not taller: imagine Kaufman standing on a chair- he'd still be short).
Two days of camping passed quickly, and before we knew it we were back on the bus to the ranger station. I wasn't sure that anything could top our bus ride out, until we saw an artic red fox sitting quietly at the side of the road, not 5 feet from us. "He's waiting for a squirrel, if he doesn't have his eye on one already," explained the driver. The fox immediately leapt up and FLEW off a few yards ahead of us. We saw a squirrel dart out of the bushes and into a little drainage culvert. The fox followed, and emerged a split second later, the wriggling squirrel clenched firmly in his smiling jaws. He gave it a quick snap with his neck and a few chews, then calmly trotted up the hillside, dug a little hole, and buried it for later. HOLY CRAP, DID THAT JUST HAPPEN?
We drove back to Anchorage in a daze. Nothing had prepared us for the park's pure and unadulterated natural beauty. It's a refreshing thought that much of Alaska's wilderness has been deemed protected, and that some semblance of America's pre-industrial splendor will remain, for better or for worse, under federal stewardship.
Friday, June 25, 2010
Seward to Anchorage for the Solstice, Day 22-24
Alaskans are fairly concerned with the Solstice. While the longest day of the year seems trite to most lower48ers, up here it marks the pinnacle of the “fun season.” Locals endure 9 months of bone-chilling cold and itty-bitty days: in the winter it can be dark for 22 hours a day, and the thick clouds usually diffuse what little daylight there is into a dusky grey. Sunlight allows your body to effectively metabolize vitamin D, a crucial endocrinal component of emotional well-being, so folks get SAD, or Seasonal Affective Disorder. People in
A band named Flyleaf was playing a free Solstice concert in downtown
The crowded town square in
Flyleaf played HARD. I had never heard of them, but one of their songs sounded familiar- they certainly put the effort in, and I enjoyed the show immensely even though my tastes didn’t quite align with their tunes. The stage covered a fountain in
We retired to McGinley’s Irish Pub after Flyleaf had finished their set. A pirate brushed past me as we walked in, and Mason greeted him by name. “Holy crap, a PIRATE!!” I exclaimed. The pirate, a lad named Hunter, was Natalie’s boyfriend (Natalie is Mason and Isaac and Marilynn’s sister. Emily is another sister, but she’s in
On Monday we paid a visit to Humpy’s, a local favorite, for Alaskan King Crab Legs. Mason and his friend Michelle joined us. Man vs. Food had been there, and although the Kodiak Arrest Challenge looked delicious, we were forced to decline- 7lbs of king crab leg, a footlong reindeer sausage, dozens of salmon cakes, and a plate of every side dish on the menu appeared manageable, but the dish of raspberry cobbler for dessert would have pushed me over the edge. Nevertheless, Madison and I each destroyed a full portion of crab legs. To call them delicious would be an egregious understatement. We tore through the succulent flesh with great enthusiasm, leaving nothing but splintered bones and wet-naps in our wake.
The rest of the day was spent preparing for our camping trip in
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