The "Final Frontier"

(Pictures with ** came from the web.)

Alaska has always seemed like a man's country and I suppose it's due to the robust amount of outdoor sports .... such as the all-popular fishing, hunting, and um .... fishing.   It has been on Husband's List for a long time, so after a year of planning, we went.   

Not by plane.  

Not by boat.  

Instead we drove approximately 6800 miles up through Canada and back in our van, over a total of five weeks and two days.  We did an Alaska cruise years ago which was one of our favorites, but you don't really SEE that much of Alaska on a cruise.  You just don't.  But the truth is, we still only saw a small part of it this time.  It's just so big. 

We started north during one of our triple-digit heat waves at home and got to our son's home in Washington (in even more heat) to drop off our dog.  (Thanks again, C & L !)  We then drove north like we were on a team of galloping horses with me whipping the reins yelling GO! GO!, knowing cool weather was ahead.  We didn't stop until after we crossed the border in northern Idaho where it was still hot .....  and hot the next day too.  And the next.  But we eventually got to where it cooled down into the blessed 60s and I found heaven.

Just inside the Alaska border.

"Let's move here!" I exclaimed.  

"It's dark all winter", reminds Husband.

"Who needs daylight?  All I need in the winter is a wood stove, a book, maybe a puzzle, and I'm good." 

But that idea was short-lived because I quickly realized my list of needs was a bit longer than that. 

"Or .....", says I, "We can come up every August and stay for a month!  How hard would that be??"  (I had visions of never again enduring hot weather and Husband, who was pondering all the fishing, was fully on board.)

That last idea was discussed quite a few times over the next few weeks before it finally died a quiet death.

We drove up through the stunning Banff National Park in British Columbia, where mountains were invented, or so we thought.  (We later learned they were actually invented in Alaska.)  Too often people bypass Canada in their quest to see Alaska, and miss a lot of incredible scenery. 

Gotta love that glacial silt color. 

More Banff.

 After a few days of driving, we came to the town of Dawson Creek in The Yukon, which is the official start of the Alaska/Canada highway, aka the "Alcan".

This highway was built during WWII when Alaska (before it was even a state) became valuable in the strategic placement of military bases.  It was a rough road back then but today, any car with decent tires can drive it.  There are enough sources for fuel along the way and the prevailing wisdom is to always top off your tank when you encounter any bedraggled gas station with working pumps, some of which appear to have been built during the Depression.  

Husband's obsession with spotting wild animals was at a fever pitch.  I love to see them too, but his eyes literally did not leave the road or the terrain along the road, or the meadows, fields, lakes, etc., in case something was moving out there.  Only once did I spot one before he did.  We saw several grizzlies and other bears, a few moose (my first!), caribou, elk, and buffalo.  But we saw far more road signs warning of wildlife .... than actual wildlife.  

That fat butt belongs to a big ol' grizzly.

Moose.  Sadly, we never saw one with antlers.

Caribou

Typically, people enter Alaska (by car) and drive a loop, as did we.   Up to Fairbanks, then down to Denali National Park, then on down to Anchorage, then southeast to the Kenai Peninsula where the touristy towns of Homer and Seward are found.  From there we drove through a 2.5 mile tunnel to the dreary little town of Whittier and caught a ferry to Valdez, then up to the tiny "town" of Chitina where we accessed the road into-and-out-of McCarthy, then up to Tok where we found the BEST fudge, and back out to Canada.

This route only covers a corner of Alaska because most of this vast state is inaccessible by roads.  One of the things I loved about it is the lack of crowds and traffic.  Just lots and lots of space.  

The yellow line roughly shows our route.

We really liked Fairbanks because of its history and maybe because it was mostly sunny, with a daily outburst of afternoon rain that quickly dried up again.  Plus it literally sits right next to The North Pole (a small town with a very large gift shop) where you-know-who lives.  

 

Only 20 - 30 percent of visitors to Denali Park get to see the highest mountain in North America (formerly named McKinnley) because it's usually encased in clouds.  But we were lucky.  

Denali.  20,310 ft tall.   

The next two weeks we spent on the Kenai Peninsula where it rained and drizzled and Husband didn't get to do some boat excursions he'd hoped for.  The clouds hovered low on the mountains, obscuring too many views.  We spent a night on the Homer Spit (a narrow strip of land that juts out in the bay) and one night in cute little Seward.  It was, we heard, one of the rainiest Augusts in recent history.  

"You should've been here in July!" the locals would say.  "The weather was great!"  < Sigh >

Shops along the Homer Spit. **

While in Homer, we took a ferry (the only way to get there) over to the isolated town of Seldovia, which (I suspect) is where Popeye once lived.  Colorful to say the least.

The Seldovia grocery store.

Another house going in ... and waiting for the tide to return.  (It rises a good 20 ft or so.)

Saw this little boot garden on the historic Seldovia boardwalk.

Husband had success fishing.  He’d be outside in the rain, standing in a nearby river, while I remained in our warm van baking muffins and listening to an audio book.  This arrangement suited both of us nicely.  But unfortunately he broke his rod because it wasn't strong enough for all the salmon that kept leaping onto his hook.  (He was trying for trout.)  One of those salmons fed us for three meals.

One of the highlights was our trip to the ghost town of McCarthy and the old abandoned Kennicott copper mine, named after a nearby glacier .... or visa versa?  It all lies within the massive (and largely unheard of) Wrangell St, Elias National Park and Preserve. This required leaving civilization behind and driving 60 miles (each way) on a bumpy, rutted road and across this old bridge that, because of my research, had me very concerned.  It turned out to be best part of the road because it was SMOOTH.  

238 ft high, 525 ft long.  Built in 1910.  Known as the "biggest thrill on the road to McCarthy".

Wooden surface.  Saw that on a lot of bridges in Alaska.

The road ends at "base camp" where there's a campground and a footbridge crossing the Kennicott River.  

**

Visible from that footbridge.  See what I mean???
(Kennicott Glacier)

You leave your vehicle licking its wounds at Basecamp, cross the footbridge, and either walk the half-mile or catch the rattly free shuttle van to McCarthy.  Then another five miles up an even bumpier road to the old mine.  We read that (during its years of operation) booze was not allowed at Kennicott (which was a self-contained community) so nearby McCarthy sprang to life.  It had all the accoutrements one would expect to find in a remote mining town, meant to rid the men of their pesky paychecks.  Today about half the McCarthy buildings are empty and returning to Mother Earth, but there is still a small working hotel, a cafe or two, and a small store that sold delicious ice cream. 

McCarthy **

Suprisingly, this is a popular tourist spot.  Prior to our trip, we bought good tires, a small compressor, and a tire repair kit with this area in mind.  Fortunately we had no trouble, but were able to help Rachel, a lovely young women traveling ALONE in her older self-built van, who had ventured out there on not-great tires and got a flat.  (Yikes.  Did I mention there were no services within about 100 miles??)   

In addition to a lot of dogs, we noticed a number of college-age-looking people in McCarthy, so they must come to spend their summers working in this very unique setting.  The entire area, including the road, closes down during the long winters.

I heard the state strives to preserve the Kennicott mine in a "state of suspended decay" and it is a fascinating step back into the early-to-mid 1900's.   There was a one-room school, a post office, an old-style store and a few other conveniences to serve the workers and their families until when the copper finally ran out.  

A few of the buildings have been restored for display.  

The products in the store were true to the period.

Don't you just love the creepiness?

On our return trip towards home, we diverted down the Cassiar Hwy in BC to visit the extremely humble "town" of Hyder (population 60), which sits just inside and at the bottom of the Alaska panhandle.  

**

There are two reasons to go to Hyder:  

1. To see the bears.  There is a shallow river where thousands of salmon go to spawn and die, and the bears come to help them die a little sooner.  There are raised wooded walkways where people can safely watch it all up close.  

We watched one young grizzly terrorizing the fish for several hours.  Please know ...... humans who hunt or fish are MUCH more humane than any bear ever was.  This guy would pull one out of the water, then toss the traumatized fish aside and go for another and another, until he found one that was full of eggs.  Then he'd eat it.  There were dead fish everywhere.   I couldn't help feeling sorry for them.

The perpetrator.  (It helps to have a zoom lens and a husband who knows how to use it.)

And 2. To see the glacier.  Immediately on the far end of Hyder, we embarked on a narrow 20 mile long goat path (the McCarthy road was nothing in comparison) up and along the side of a steep mountain.  Then, over an hour later, we emerged at the mountain tops and the most magnificent glacier we have ever seen.  It's called the Salmon Glacier and is one of the largest glaciers on the continent.  Think of the first time you stood at the edge of the Grand Canyon.  This is a similar experience. 

Husband "stitched" together four photos to capture the immensity of the glacier.  This picture is headed for a wall in our house.

This is from my phone.  I wanted to add it for a bit of scale .... Look for someone in the picture.  (I  happen to know him personally.)

 We had made the very fortunate decision NOT to wait and come up the next morning because we got these pictures in the beautiful sunset.  Our plan was to spend the night up there and get more pictures at sunrise.  However, during the night it clouded over and rained, and we woke up to thick fog and one totally missing glacier.  It was as if it had been erased!  Several people drove up that morning and got to see nothing ...... including one couple from Germany who will probably never go to Hyder again, much less up that road to the glacier.  This glacier was indeed the pinnacle (no pun intended) of our trip.  If you're ever in the area it's a must ..... just not on an overcast day.

Parked high up at the viewpoint for the night. 

Further on our return trip, we drove through the mountains of the famous Whistler ski resort.  Oh Canada!  Thou art glorious!  Then down towards Vancouver, BC, ...... breathtaking!  

**

We crossed the US border into Blaine, WA, and finally had some REAL INTERNET again.  Here's the deal on that ..... Alaska's cell service is phenomenal.  (We use Verizon.)  Even in McCarthy, we could stream videos.   However, Canada was a different story.  They had service, but would only dole out tiny snippets to us non-citizens-who-had-neglected-to-research-sim-cards.  Each day we'd get what seemed like about five minutes of fast internet and then we were throttled till the next day when we were allotted another few minutes.  This forced us to seek out WIFI whenever possible.  

A few other things we learned on this trip:

Canadian money is so pretty!  But they use a lot of dollar coins, so don't confuse those with quarters.  And unless you want to appear as dumb as I was, note that the coins are clearly marked and don't keep asking patient Canadians how their money works.

**

The US, on the other hand, has MUCH more interesting license plates.  

Canada is serious about not littering.  Even on the most remote roads nowhere near anything, there are frequent pullouts with bear-proof trash cans provided.  The trash collectors must put in LOTS of miles.

Do NOT EVEN THINK about bringing a weapon into Canada, including even a small pepper sprayer.  But you're totally okay packing a massive can of bear spray across the border, as long as it's clearly labeled.  

Yours Truly has learned how to convert kilometers into miles.  

Canadians (and Alaskans) are MY PEOPLE because they think 90 degrees fahrenheit is TOO hot.  Which it is.

The long hours of daylight were no problem.  Except we kept forgetting to eat dinner until much too late.

The reason there's a drought in the lower portion of our country is because the WATER IS ALL UP NORTH!  My goodness, there is water everywhere up there!

The people of Alaska have a kind of rugged, low-maintenance vibe.  And when you leave the city, you'll only see two kinds of footwear ....  sturdy hiking shoes or knee-high rubber "mucking" boots.  These people can't be bothered with flip-flops.

**

The mosquitos were mostly in Canada.  Not so much in Alaska ..... at least during August/September.

A few more random pictures:

From the ferry from Whittier to Valdez.  Gray was the theme of the day.

From one of our overnight spots, overlooking Homer and the Spit.  The most vivid rainbow I can remember.

We hiked about a half mile up to the famous Mendenhall Glacier.  There are a series of signs showing how much it has receded.  This is where it was in 2005.  (I'm straddling a puddle.)

We only paid to stay in established campgrounds about 20% of the time.  There are so many beautiful spots that are free.  Here's an example.  (Our van is in the back.)

This is the Our Lady of the Snows Catholic Church which kindly shares the use of their chapel with a tiny group from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.  One meets Sunday mornings and the other in the evenings.  It is about 40 miles out of Anchorage, in the remote town of Girdwood ..... difficult to find w/o a GPS.  We happened to attend services there one Sunday, and is where we experienced a small miracle.  Ask me about it sometime.

Alaska was purchased from Russia in 1857, for a mere 7.2 million.  Russia didn't want to sell it to Canada, because they were concerned about Britain's power at that time.  It was made a state in 1959, during my lifetime.  (About the same time as Hawaii.)  I was very young and completely oblivious. The purchase of Alaska was unpopular for several decades until 1897 when gold was discovered  ..... and later the vast oil fields.  

Well done, Andrew Johnson administration.  Well done.

  

Okay, so yeah, it's been a while .... again

It's not that nothing is happening over here when time lapses between posts ...... it's just that sometimes the motivation level drops off.  But there was this:

In April we headed to the eastern edge of our state to help Favorite(s) Daughter and S-I-L, with their remodeling job of their current new-to-them house.   As sad as it is to have them move five hours away (as opposed to the previous three), it is parentally gratifying to see them in a situation better suited to their needs.  And who knew how pretty this portion of our state could actually be?  When you've spent your entire life only zipping through on the freeway, it never occurred to me to that there'd be any reason to ever move there.  But after living in the "high desert" (see previous post), my perspective has shifted.  They definitely found *pretty*.

From there we spent a couple of weeks southward in search of warmth and (not necessarily in the following order) finally found it in Death Valley, one of our favorite haunts .... although I'm not totally sure why.  It could be that these are the actual colors, or that they sell humongous ice cream cones, scooped right out of the hill in the lower picture .....

(Just kidding.)

We also did the iconic drive down the mid-California coast (Big Sur area) 

and were blown away by the views ..... not to mention the gas prices.  Yet again, I am reminded that Oregon does not walk away with every natural beauty contest.  If California could fix its problems, I'd be tempted to live there, in spite of the unfortunate fact that it (or rather a certain piece of uneven pavement) gave me a slightly broken foot which sent us in search of a pair of crutches the next day and promptly eliminated any hikes we'd hoped to do.

We're still trying to figure out Nevada, which .... is just there ..... kind of in the way of the more enjoyable states.  Although we did visited a car museum in Reno.  (Surprisingly, I've come to learn that car museums are quite interesting.)  

And, had the elevation not been so high making it too cold ..... we would've spent the night by this odd structure.  Click here if you're slightly curious.

Stokes Castle

We drove home via a portion of Oregon that was new to us, up through the town of Lakeview.  This town, I assume, got its name because of its proximity to massive Goose Lake, as shown on all the maps.  Maybe the lake was there once, but it's not there now.  It's just a huge empty flat grassland. 

It was Easter morning when we stopped by a couple of recently-heard-of-by-us natural landmarks between Lakeview and home.  The ancient volcano, "Fort Rock", abruptly rises up out of the nearby farmland, and was unexpectedly impressive. We learned that every Easter, for nearly 70 years, the local Christian church holds a sunrise service there, complete with a bonfire.  We arrived in time to see them hauling away the burn barrel, and we both decided we'd like to attend the service sometime.

Nearby "Hole In The Ground" (its official name) is a huge indentation that I'm sure people would love to think was caused by a massive meteor, but it was another volcano.  The road(s) to it are a maze of rutted, winding dirt roads that are more comfortably done with a higher clearance vehicle than what we were in, although we did fine.  You need your GPS to get to it because there are no signs.  Worth seeing once, in my opinion.  But not twice.

Also in that same vicinity is something called "Crack In The Ground" (I'm not making these names up) which appears to be a type of slot canyon (yes, Oregon has a few) ..... but alas, my wounded foot forced us to save that hike for another trip.

And coming this summer, the plans are still a GO ...

to drive to ........ 

Alaska!

Updates and admitting that we are hard-core RV-ers.

Whenever I read over some of my old posts, I berate myself for neglecting The Blog.  Even if nobody else ever reads it, it's a priceless record to us.  And so I am pulling it out of the attic, dusting it off, and will (hopefully!) get back in the groove.  Because we're not dead yet.  

Update:

My last post (of over a 1.5 years ago) started off with us selling our 40 foot ("Beast") motorhome, which I was very ready to see go.  I SAID we were going back to good old-fashioned tent camping.  Or so we thought.

That lasted until the following spring ..... when we hatched the *brilliant* plan of rejoining our motorcycling and camping lifestyles, with a toy-hauler.  (This is an RV wherein the rear wall opens and lays down as a ramp.  Toy-haulers can carry all types of man-sized "toys" on wheels.)  As you may recall, our motorhome carried our motorcycle on the back.  THIS would carry it inside.  Brilliance.  Or so we thought.

Fondly remembering the assets of our first little all-aluminum trailer, we searched for one from the same company, which Husband located in San Diego.  (At least it wasn't Arkansas this time.)  So off we went in our Jeep, towing our motorcycle in a U-Haul trailer.

There we loaded the motorcycle into our *new* (four years old) rig, hitched it to the Jeep and headed back north.  It was during that trip we decided the Jeep just didn't have the oomph to do the job, since this trailer was wider than our original trailer.  So after we returned home, our beloved Jeep was sold and replaced with a lovely red F150 pickup, which squarely entrenched us as true Central Oregonians.  (Eeeeeverybody drives a pickup here.)

It was very spartan inside, with hideous "Polaris" decor, and the exterior had been thoroughly faded by the southern Cali sun.

This is as it looked on our way home.  The furniture was folded up against the walls.  The bed raises and lowers to allow the bike to come and go.

Then followed about six weeks of pure fun (memory always erases the not-fun parts) as we fixed it up.  The exterior got new paint and decals.

The interior went from this:

to this:

We loved it ......

                or so we thought.

Last fall we headed for New Mexico, since that was our last unexplored western state.  We stopped briefly to see our delightful Utah family and then did our annual obligatory visit to Moab.

OH!  I forgot!  We bought a kayak!  (How COOL are we?!)  It's inflatable and holds both of us, plus the dog, and we love it!  So we brought it along on this trip and did about 8 miles on the scenic (brown) Colorado river just outside of Moab.
Note: for those of you who have never launched any type of small non-powered boat on a river, it involves a lot of ferrying of vehicles from the put-in point to the take-out point, which we were able to do with me and dog in the truck, and Husband on the motorcycle.  This is to avoid having to hitchhike a ride back up-river to the truck.

Then we spent two nights at the Great Sand Dune National Park in southern Colorado.  (Sllliiiightly overrated.  Definitely a do-only-once destination, although the pic below is gorgeous.)   I had to laugh at all the people we saw heading out to climb the dunes in hiking boots.  Obviously they were sand novices and strangers to the Oregon coast where we all know to go barefoot.

(Took this off the internet.) 

https://www.colorado.com/articles/national-park-profile-great-sand-dunes-national-park-preserve

It was here when the benefits of carrying one's motorcycle inside one's RV began to fade.  If one is relegated to the only available spot in the park and is backed up into that tiny campsite where one cannot lower the ramp to disembark said motorcycle, then one must sleep with a large vehicle situated between one's bed and one's bathroom.  Why didn't we unload the bike before parking the trailer?  Frankly, I don't remember.

Then we headed into the artsy, touristy town of Taos, New Mexico, and some much anticipated internet.  (I'd been dealing with a few withdrawal symptoms after being off-grid for several days.)  About an hour after we arrived there, somehow-somewhere a very important cable was accidentally severed, plunging the entire area into an internet-less abyss that lasted for the next 12-13 hours.  In fact even the land-line phones were all down.  I was aghast .... what if there was an emergency??  But the locals just seemed to shrug it off.

Taos is entertaining for about 2.5 hours, after which those of us with short attention spans become bored.  I have learned in my RV-ing experience that making reservations and finding places to camp are fairly easy Monday - Thursday.  But by Friday, you'd better be hunkered down for the weekend.  So we endured Taos till Monday.  The friendly folks with whom we attended church in their very small congregation, ALL encouraged us to move there full-time (so as to permanently teach a Sunday class or something).  It was that weekend we discovered the ramp of our trailer, upon which the motorcycle enters and exists, was becoming spongy.  It was rated to hold much heavier vehicles than we subjected it do .... AND did I mention it was only four years old??

So we called the local church leader, who kindly offered to let us use a few of his power tools and Husband fashioned a plank to lay over the ramp, so as to continue being able to load and unload the bike.  (Needless to say, our opinion of the manufacturer of our trailer (and the ramp) dropped significantly.)

Skipping ahead, since this is getting long-winded .... we visited San Juan (lovely!) ... (oops!, I meant Santa Fe),  Los Alamos where the atomic bomb was built, and saw more ancient ruins in Chaco Canyon which IS the Mother-of-the-Middle-of-Nowhere where visitors must suffer miles of very rough road for which, in my opinion, there is no excuse.  (Kinda done with ruins after that.)

The best of that trip was Lake Powell in our kayak.  A few pics:  (Antelope Canyon)

It gradually narrows down to a channel barely wide enough to U-turn the kayak, where you hit land and can hike further into the slot canyon on foot.  Husband is clamoring to return .... or perhaps move there (insert eye-roll emoji here).

Alas, however, it was not our favorite trip, and added to some necessary cold winter usage, I'm afraid our current trailer has fallen out of favor.

HENCE, onto Plan ... um ... a, b, c .... D!

We are getting a Sprinter van!  More on that coming up ..... because I WILL return.