Saturday, July 14, 2007
PALMER, ALASKA — The state of Alaska is huge. If you were to superimpose a map of it onto the lower 48 states, it would stretch from Florida in the east all the way to California in the west, taking in its panhandle and the long string of Aleutian islands. The part of it that is populated and traveled is only about one third of the state at its eastern edge. The rest of Alaska is vast tundra, mountains, rivers and forests.
While we have only scratched the surface, we have absorbed an inkling of its massive size. Today we left Glennallen and headed westward along the Glenn Highway (Highway 1) in the direction of Anchorage. Palmer is not far from there; in fact the Homestead Campground where we are tonight claims to be within commuting distance of Anchorage, about 40 miles.
The campground is nicely laid out on a rise of land with beautiful birch trees strategically placed between large pull-through lots. At the south side of the property, the land drops precipitously to a distant river bed and a wide plain, and further south is a magnificent mountain range with craggy, snow-capped peaks. The plain and the mountains stretch as far as the eye can see in both directions, and today we passed through at least three huge stretches like this, separated by mountain passes with winding roads between enormous walls of rock.
At one point, we were stopped by a road crew for several minutes. The Glenn Highway is closed every night from midnight to six in the morning while construction crews take advantage of the long hours of daylight to work on the road. The design of the current road is telling its age; there are lots of serpentine sections through the mountain passes with sheer rock faces above and steep drops below, and more rises and dips than you would find in more recent highways. The work they are doing won’t be finished till 2009, according to the flag person we chatted with while we waited.
We saw a number of glaciers today. Most of the ones we have seen are thick build-ups of ice and snow at the V between two or three large peaks. This morning, it was the Tazlina Glacier, nestled at the base of Mount McKinley, Alaska’s most widely-known peak and, even at this late date in the summer, still completely white with snow and ice. It was strange to look at it out on our left side, in chilly shades of white, icy blue and grey, while on our right were rolling hills clad in green and sprinkled with flowers. The Nelchina Glacier had a similar appearance, but the Matanuska Glacier was quite different, spreading lengthwise through a long trough-like valley for quite a distance. We stopped at a turnout that gave us a good view of this one to enjoy a scenic lunch.
As we prepared our sandwiches, there was a tap on the back window of the trailer, and there was Georgette, our Swiss friend, waving hello. We invited her and Farid in to join us, and had a lovely long break, talking more about our travels, and hearing about Switzerland. When we told our tale of Tracie Harris and her gold claim on the marge of Lake Laberge, we tried to explain Robert Service’s poem, but decided the best thing would be to read it to them. So I did an impromptu performance of The Cremation of Sam McGee for their edification! Good thing we had the book handy so I could read from it! For our dessert, we enjoyed a lovely Toblerone bar which they brought in with them.
Once again on our way, we passed through Chickaloon (a town with a name that Val loves to repeat) with a population of 242, boasting a general store and a starting point for white-water venturers, of which we saw quite a few. Our route paralleled the Matanuska River most of the way from this point, a swiftly-flowing tributary that is liberally ruffled by rapids. It’s a perfect playground for the speed- and spume-loving set. That doesn’t include me! I wished we could have seen some of the people actually out on the river, but all we passed were groups about to set out, or just getting off. It looked like it would be an exciting ride.
There were so many mountains around us, but three stood out in particular along today’s route. One was the King Mountain, shaped like a huge pyramid, Gunsight Mountain, with a perfect notch at the peak just like a gunsight, and Lion Head, with a bulbous dome on one side much like the head of a lion, next to a rump-like shape to complete the image. Knob Lake, next to that mountain, picked up on that head shape as well. The knob is a great spot for birdwatchers in the spring, who hold an annual tailgate party there while they count the eagles, hawks, kestrels and other raptors that migrate along that path every year.
More mundane things awaited us at our destination; it was time for another laundry session, so we’re now all set with clean clothes and linens for another week.
Tuesday, July 17, 2007
Saturday, July 14, 2007
A chance meeting
Friday, July 13, 2007
GLENNALLEN, ALASKA — We’re back again at Northern Nights RV campground, and our timing is perfect; free dessert is served on Mondays and Fridays only and we hit it coming and going on those exact days. Last Monday we enjoyed peach cobbler and today it was blueberry! Before they serve the dessert they ask everyone to say their name and a bit about their travels or their hometown or how many grandchildren they have (yeah, there are a lot of grey-haired folks doing Alaska!).
The first lady jumped up and said her name and her husband’s name and told us he was her third husband. "The first one died from eating poison mushrooms," she said, "and my second husband died of a crushed skull." Amid the chorus of sympathetic "oh"s, she quipped, "he wouldn’t eat the mushrooms!" We were off to a good start. Tonight’s group included a crew of cyclists; I cannot imagine cycling up through the Thompson Pass from Valdez — it was an endless, continuous incline for about seven miles.
The weather was clearer today, so we got to see some mountains we missed on the way in to Valdez. There were still some clouds hiding the peaks of some of them, but the Mileposts guide told us about a turnout with a scenic view where signs would give us the names of each peak in the St. Elias-Wrangell mountain range, so I suggested that we pull over to take in the amazing view. I was able to gaze at it continually, but Val had to watch the road, so it would be an opportunity for him to really take it in.
We no sooner pulled in to the turnout when we spotted our Swiss friends, Georgette and Farid, whom we had last seen in Pancake Bay, Sault Ste. Marie, five weeks ago! It was a delightful surprise! They had decided to enjoy the same view at the same time, and, as Georgette said, we couldn’t have planned it better if we had booked an appointment. So we chatted for a whole hour, catching up on one another’s travels and adventures. They too were returning from Valdez; they had dry-camped at the Old Town site, where Valdez was located before the earthquake. We had driven in there yesterday, so we might have met up with them there — but then our chance meeting wouldn’t have happened on Friday the 13th, so it had to wait for a lucky day.
Georgette told us they had picked a nice spot by the water in Valdez to park their camper van, but as the afternoon progressed she noticed the edge of the water was getting closer and realized the tide was coming in. Farid didn’t think they needed to do anything, but on Georgette’s insistence they moved further inland. Good move; she said the water would have engulfed their van completely if they had stayed put!
Well, we never did read the names of all the mountain peaks at that turnout, but we had a very nice visit with our young friends, and are planning to connect once again for dinner in Anchorage, where we are both headed.
On the way back to Glennallen we took a side trip into Copper Center, a small settlement that harked back to gold rush days, with log cabins and an old roadhouse, and a little log cabin museum. The front steps of the museum were made of concrete with old pickaxes embedded in it as reinforcement, because they were so easy to find in the area! Copper and gold mining were among the activities of the earlier inhabitants, but today’s main source of income is taking folks out salmon fishing on the Klutina and Copper Rivers. At our dessert fest tonight, we once again heard the spiel about the wilderness river adventure that we could enjoy not far from here, but our sights are set for different horizons tomorrow.
GLENNALLEN, ALASKA — We’re back again at Northern Nights RV campground, and our timing is perfect; free dessert is served on Mondays and Fridays only and we hit it coming and going on those exact days. Last Monday we enjoyed peach cobbler and today it was blueberry! Before they serve the dessert they ask everyone to say their name and a bit about their travels or their hometown or how many grandchildren they have (yeah, there are a lot of grey-haired folks doing Alaska!).
The first lady jumped up and said her name and her husband’s name and told us he was her third husband. "The first one died from eating poison mushrooms," she said, "and my second husband died of a crushed skull." Amid the chorus of sympathetic "oh"s, she quipped, "he wouldn’t eat the mushrooms!" We were off to a good start. Tonight’s group included a crew of cyclists; I cannot imagine cycling up through the Thompson Pass from Valdez — it was an endless, continuous incline for about seven miles.
The weather was clearer today, so we got to see some mountains we missed on the way in to Valdez. There were still some clouds hiding the peaks of some of them, but the Mileposts guide told us about a turnout with a scenic view where signs would give us the names of each peak in the St. Elias-Wrangell mountain range, so I suggested that we pull over to take in the amazing view. I was able to gaze at it continually, but Val had to watch the road, so it would be an opportunity for him to really take it in.
We no sooner pulled in to the turnout when we spotted our Swiss friends, Georgette and Farid, whom we had last seen in Pancake Bay, Sault Ste. Marie, five weeks ago! It was a delightful surprise! They had decided to enjoy the same view at the same time, and, as Georgette said, we couldn’t have planned it better if we had booked an appointment. So we chatted for a whole hour, catching up on one another’s travels and adventures. They too were returning from Valdez; they had dry-camped at the Old Town site, where Valdez was located before the earthquake. We had driven in there yesterday, so we might have met up with them there — but then our chance meeting wouldn’t have happened on Friday the 13th, so it had to wait for a lucky day.
Georgette told us they had picked a nice spot by the water in Valdez to park their camper van, but as the afternoon progressed she noticed the edge of the water was getting closer and realized the tide was coming in. Farid didn’t think they needed to do anything, but on Georgette’s insistence they moved further inland. Good move; she said the water would have engulfed their van completely if they had stayed put!
Well, we never did read the names of all the mountain peaks at that turnout, but we had a very nice visit with our young friends, and are planning to connect once again for dinner in Anchorage, where we are both headed.
On the way back to Glennallen we took a side trip into Copper Center, a small settlement that harked back to gold rush days, with log cabins and an old roadhouse, and a little log cabin museum. The front steps of the museum were made of concrete with old pickaxes embedded in it as reinforcement, because they were so easy to find in the area! Copper and gold mining were among the activities of the earlier inhabitants, but today’s main source of income is taking folks out salmon fishing on the Klutina and Copper Rivers. At our dessert fest tonight, we once again heard the spiel about the wilderness river adventure that we could enjoy not far from here, but our sights are set for different horizons tomorrow.
Thursday, July 12, 2007
Fish tales
Thursday, July 12, 2007
VALDEZ, ALASKA — We were pleased to see the sun shining today in Valdez. Both yesterday and Tuesday it had rained on and off all day; this didn’t really impede any of our activities, but it’s always nicer to do touristy things on a nice day.
Anyone wandering around Valdez would quickly realize that fishing is a big part of the town’s economy. One of the first things we saw when we first arrived at our RV park was a fish cleaning station behind the park office, where people were standing around a large table, filleting and cleaning salmon, their catch of the day. From time to time a fellow scooped all the heads, tails and guts toward a hole in the middle of the table, where a big grinder reduced it all to chum, to dump back into the harbour.
Next to the harbour are a number of enterprises that offer fishing excursions, flash freezing and shipping of your catch, or, simply, fresh fish to buy and take home for dinner. At the docks this morning were dozens of fishing boats at anchor. Authorities maintain control over the fishery through quotas and scheduling that mean some boats must wait a few days between trips out. When they do get the go-ahead, they stay out all day, transferring their catch to tender boats that suck it into their holds through large pipes and shuttle it back to the docks for processing.
We drove over to Peter Pan Seafoods Inc. this morning to buy some fresh Copper River red salmon and halibut. There was a sign outside a large, factory-like building that said "fish 4 sale: go through the door and up the stairs", so we did. We passed men in coveralls and rubber boots at the door, walked through an employees’ coffee break area and through a dark passageway. On the right was a kind of loading dock, and on the left an assembly line where workers, wearing white hairnets, were sorting fish and where cans were being stuffed, shunted along a conveyer belt and sealed.
No one paid any attention to us, but there were blue fish shapes painted on the floor that led to a staircase, so up we went, and at the top was a small landing with large chest freezer, fridge and shelves with signs indicating prices. A little further on was the administrative office, and a nice woman, also wearing a white hairnet, came from behind the counter to serve us. More than $150 later, we walked out with frozen salmon fillets, halibut fillets, fresh salmon, fresh halibut, a case of canned salmon and a box of scallops! We came straight back to the trailer and managed to squeeze all that into our small fridge and freezer. Guess what was for supper tonight?
On our way again, we took a look at the Valdez Museum, where some wag had mounted a very believable display of a fur-clad fish, known only in cold Alaskan waters, and a set of sharp-toothed jaws that claimed to be those of an ice worm, 27 feet long! There were some more serious displays of gold rush artifacts, plus an incredibly ornate steam-operated fire engine from the late 1800s, restored with nickel and gold leaf on its gleaming engine and spoked wheels.
After lunch we strolled over to the harbour to have a look at all the boats. Mixed together were dozens of sleek pleasure boats and hard-worn fishing rigs, loaded with nets, waiting the call to go out on the water. We stopped to chat with a fishing boat captain on the dock, who told us that some rigs are operated by a single individual. We asked him about the fish hatchery that gets the small fry started and then releases them to the join their wild siblings in the sound. He said they do contribute to the survival of the fishery, but seasoned fishermen can tell the hatched from the wild and prefer the latter.
Near the Peter Pan Seafoods building we saw dormitories where itinerant crew stay at the height of the season — and a sign indicative of the region’s long daylight hours, reading "no basketball playing after 10 pm. People are trying to sleep!" A summer job on one of these rigs would certainly be a unique experience for a young person.
VALDEZ, ALASKA — We were pleased to see the sun shining today in Valdez. Both yesterday and Tuesday it had rained on and off all day; this didn’t really impede any of our activities, but it’s always nicer to do touristy things on a nice day.
Anyone wandering around Valdez would quickly realize that fishing is a big part of the town’s economy. One of the first things we saw when we first arrived at our RV park was a fish cleaning station behind the park office, where people were standing around a large table, filleting and cleaning salmon, their catch of the day. From time to time a fellow scooped all the heads, tails and guts toward a hole in the middle of the table, where a big grinder reduced it all to chum, to dump back into the harbour.
Next to the harbour are a number of enterprises that offer fishing excursions, flash freezing and shipping of your catch, or, simply, fresh fish to buy and take home for dinner. At the docks this morning were dozens of fishing boats at anchor. Authorities maintain control over the fishery through quotas and scheduling that mean some boats must wait a few days between trips out. When they do get the go-ahead, they stay out all day, transferring their catch to tender boats that suck it into their holds through large pipes and shuttle it back to the docks for processing.
We drove over to Peter Pan Seafoods Inc. this morning to buy some fresh Copper River red salmon and halibut. There was a sign outside a large, factory-like building that said "fish 4 sale: go through the door and up the stairs", so we did. We passed men in coveralls and rubber boots at the door, walked through an employees’ coffee break area and through a dark passageway. On the right was a kind of loading dock, and on the left an assembly line where workers, wearing white hairnets, were sorting fish and where cans were being stuffed, shunted along a conveyer belt and sealed.
No one paid any attention to us, but there were blue fish shapes painted on the floor that led to a staircase, so up we went, and at the top was a small landing with large chest freezer, fridge and shelves with signs indicating prices. A little further on was the administrative office, and a nice woman, also wearing a white hairnet, came from behind the counter to serve us. More than $150 later, we walked out with frozen salmon fillets, halibut fillets, fresh salmon, fresh halibut, a case of canned salmon and a box of scallops! We came straight back to the trailer and managed to squeeze all that into our small fridge and freezer. Guess what was for supper tonight?
On our way again, we took a look at the Valdez Museum, where some wag had mounted a very believable display of a fur-clad fish, known only in cold Alaskan waters, and a set of sharp-toothed jaws that claimed to be those of an ice worm, 27 feet long! There were some more serious displays of gold rush artifacts, plus an incredibly ornate steam-operated fire engine from the late 1800s, restored with nickel and gold leaf on its gleaming engine and spoked wheels.
After lunch we strolled over to the harbour to have a look at all the boats. Mixed together were dozens of sleek pleasure boats and hard-worn fishing rigs, loaded with nets, waiting the call to go out on the water. We stopped to chat with a fishing boat captain on the dock, who told us that some rigs are operated by a single individual. We asked him about the fish hatchery that gets the small fry started and then releases them to the join their wild siblings in the sound. He said they do contribute to the survival of the fishery, but seasoned fishermen can tell the hatched from the wild and prefer the latter.
Near the Peter Pan Seafoods building we saw dormitories where itinerant crew stay at the height of the season — and a sign indicative of the region’s long daylight hours, reading "no basketball playing after 10 pm. People are trying to sleep!" A summer job on one of these rigs would certainly be a unique experience for a young person.
A glorious glacier
Wednesday, July 11, 2007
VALDEZ, ALASKA — When we went yesterday to book today’s tour of Prince William Sound, we had originally wanted the shorter, six-hour trip, but that tour was fully booked. Instead, they offered the nine and a half-hour tour at a discount, so we agreed to take it. It turned out to be a wonderful stroke of luck!
While we were waiting for the bus to come and take us to the boat, and we chatted with a couple whose accent told us they must be francophones. It turned out that Huguette and Yvon come from Montreal, so we carried on in French with them for the rest of the day. They were a delightful pair!
Even before we got out of the harbour, we spotted two sea lions lounging at the base of a large bouy. We also saw the oil tanker Prince William Sound at the mouth of the pipeline taking on a load of crude to take away for refinement, and a number of salmon fishing boats with their nets cast wide. As we watched them transfer the fish to larger collector vessels, we could see the gleaming silver fish tumbling into the hold.
Our route was to take us up two different fjords to see two glaciers, and as we approached the first, we could see white specks floating against the backdrop of the far shore. These were chunks of ice — some of them quite large — that had broken free from the glacier. Some were white with black dirty bits, while others were a beautiful turquoise blue; the captain explained that the coloured ones were more densely packed. The captain navigated slowly between these bits to get close as he could get to the face of the Columbia Glacier. Because there were so many chunks, we had to hang back at some distance. Still, we were impressed by the Columbia’s grandeur.
As we headed back out to the sound, we spotted the white head of a bald eagle against the dark green forest as it perched high on a pine tree. The captain also pointed out some Dall’s porpoises racing alongside us, but all I could see was a flash of black and white for an instant and then they were gone.
Soon we were headed into the second fjord. We had gone inside to sit down and enjoy the free hot tea and coffee they were serving. The wind and the spray had chilled us, despite our warm clothing. A few minutes later I looked up and saw through the window the blue-green wall of the Meares Glacier looming ahead — it filled the whole window! We were back out on the deck in an instant. The captain had shut off the motor so we could drift slowly toward the glacier, and everyone was just standing agape in silent awe at the scene in front of us.
We were about a quarter of a mile away, but it felt like we could touch it. The glacier wall was the height of a skyscraper and a mile wide. Great, vertical cracks were visible all along it, and its colours ranged from pure white to turquoise to deep blue. Floating in front of it were chunks and bergy bits, and as we watched we could hear cracks and rumbles coming from the face. Then a chunk as big as a car broke free and fell down, down, down to the water in a huge grey splash. We were spellbound!
Over the next 20 minutes as we drifted, we saw more pieces fall. One of the biggest pieces to come off must have been the size of a small apartment building, and it cracked and rumbled like thunder as it slowly gave way and crashed in a huge plume of spray. Then we saw the wave it had created! The chunks of ice near it were bobbing up and down, and a dark crease along the water was headed in our direction. Two or three minutes later the boat heaved up, dropped and heaved again as successive waves from this huge iceberg passed through our position.
We could see by the deep cracks on either side of one part of the ice face that another monster piece would soon be coming down. The captain and crew were glued to the windows on the upper deck, as fascinated as we were. He said we’d hang around for another five minutes or so, but it must have been at least 15 that we remained, silently drifting, watching and listening. More cracking noises and small chunks let go and fell. Then the mother of all hunks gave way and everyone gasped and pointed! A mountain of blue ice collapsed in slow motion and we heard a profound rumbling as it plummeted into the deep. At that point, the captain started up the engine again and we retreated as a miniature tsunami headed our way. It will be a long time before I forget what we saw.
Later I heard a crew member say this was the best display of glacier "calving" that they had seen this season, so we felt lucky indeed.
The wonders of nature were not over yet! Back again in open water, our sharp-eyed captain directed our gaze off to the left where plumes of spray indicated whales were present. There were two hump-back whale fins skimming above the surface and disappearing again. We followed their path with binoculars trained until they reappeared. Then they arched their backs to dive deep, and we saw the length of their grey bodies curve up, with their wing-like tails appearing last and slipping out of sight! Yvon managed, amazingly, to capture the tail on his digital camera. He was just thrilled as he showed us his prize picture. In all, we spotted five or six whales.
Next, we came close to the shore at the favourite resting spot for local sea lions. At first we saw half a dozen brown lumps lounging on the rocky shore. A little further on there were about 20 of them. Lastly, we saw about 200 carpeting a large rocky beach, lolling about, exchanging bites and nips or galumphing awkwardly over one another for a better spot. All the while we could hear them grunting noisily at one another. It sounded like a huge burping session!
Somewhere in between all the wonderful sights (including some adorable puffins and sea otters), we also were served a lovely hot lunch, and, on the return journey, delicious cups of steaming clam chowder. The crew were so helpful and friendly, even clearing the water-streaked windows with squeejees from time to time for our viewing pleasure. As we sailed back in to Valdez harbour, the sun had finally broken through the clouds, giving us a warm welcome back ashore at the end of a truly memorable day.
VALDEZ, ALASKA — When we went yesterday to book today’s tour of Prince William Sound, we had originally wanted the shorter, six-hour trip, but that tour was fully booked. Instead, they offered the nine and a half-hour tour at a discount, so we agreed to take it. It turned out to be a wonderful stroke of luck!
While we were waiting for the bus to come and take us to the boat, and we chatted with a couple whose accent told us they must be francophones. It turned out that Huguette and Yvon come from Montreal, so we carried on in French with them for the rest of the day. They were a delightful pair!
Even before we got out of the harbour, we spotted two sea lions lounging at the base of a large bouy. We also saw the oil tanker Prince William Sound at the mouth of the pipeline taking on a load of crude to take away for refinement, and a number of salmon fishing boats with their nets cast wide. As we watched them transfer the fish to larger collector vessels, we could see the gleaming silver fish tumbling into the hold.
Our route was to take us up two different fjords to see two glaciers, and as we approached the first, we could see white specks floating against the backdrop of the far shore. These were chunks of ice — some of them quite large — that had broken free from the glacier. Some were white with black dirty bits, while others were a beautiful turquoise blue; the captain explained that the coloured ones were more densely packed. The captain navigated slowly between these bits to get close as he could get to the face of the Columbia Glacier. Because there were so many chunks, we had to hang back at some distance. Still, we were impressed by the Columbia’s grandeur.
As we headed back out to the sound, we spotted the white head of a bald eagle against the dark green forest as it perched high on a pine tree. The captain also pointed out some Dall’s porpoises racing alongside us, but all I could see was a flash of black and white for an instant and then they were gone.
Soon we were headed into the second fjord. We had gone inside to sit down and enjoy the free hot tea and coffee they were serving. The wind and the spray had chilled us, despite our warm clothing. A few minutes later I looked up and saw through the window the blue-green wall of the Meares Glacier looming ahead — it filled the whole window! We were back out on the deck in an instant. The captain had shut off the motor so we could drift slowly toward the glacier, and everyone was just standing agape in silent awe at the scene in front of us.
We were about a quarter of a mile away, but it felt like we could touch it. The glacier wall was the height of a skyscraper and a mile wide. Great, vertical cracks were visible all along it, and its colours ranged from pure white to turquoise to deep blue. Floating in front of it were chunks and bergy bits, and as we watched we could hear cracks and rumbles coming from the face. Then a chunk as big as a car broke free and fell down, down, down to the water in a huge grey splash. We were spellbound!
Over the next 20 minutes as we drifted, we saw more pieces fall. One of the biggest pieces to come off must have been the size of a small apartment building, and it cracked and rumbled like thunder as it slowly gave way and crashed in a huge plume of spray. Then we saw the wave it had created! The chunks of ice near it were bobbing up and down, and a dark crease along the water was headed in our direction. Two or three minutes later the boat heaved up, dropped and heaved again as successive waves from this huge iceberg passed through our position.
We could see by the deep cracks on either side of one part of the ice face that another monster piece would soon be coming down. The captain and crew were glued to the windows on the upper deck, as fascinated as we were. He said we’d hang around for another five minutes or so, but it must have been at least 15 that we remained, silently drifting, watching and listening. More cracking noises and small chunks let go and fell. Then the mother of all hunks gave way and everyone gasped and pointed! A mountain of blue ice collapsed in slow motion and we heard a profound rumbling as it plummeted into the deep. At that point, the captain started up the engine again and we retreated as a miniature tsunami headed our way. It will be a long time before I forget what we saw.
Later I heard a crew member say this was the best display of glacier "calving" that they had seen this season, so we felt lucky indeed.
The wonders of nature were not over yet! Back again in open water, our sharp-eyed captain directed our gaze off to the left where plumes of spray indicated whales were present. There were two hump-back whale fins skimming above the surface and disappearing again. We followed their path with binoculars trained until they reappeared. Then they arched their backs to dive deep, and we saw the length of their grey bodies curve up, with their wing-like tails appearing last and slipping out of sight! Yvon managed, amazingly, to capture the tail on his digital camera. He was just thrilled as he showed us his prize picture. In all, we spotted five or six whales.
Next, we came close to the shore at the favourite resting spot for local sea lions. At first we saw half a dozen brown lumps lounging on the rocky shore. A little further on there were about 20 of them. Lastly, we saw about 200 carpeting a large rocky beach, lolling about, exchanging bites and nips or galumphing awkwardly over one another for a better spot. All the while we could hear them grunting noisily at one another. It sounded like a huge burping session!
Somewhere in between all the wonderful sights (including some adorable puffins and sea otters), we also were served a lovely hot lunch, and, on the return journey, delicious cups of steaming clam chowder. The crew were so helpful and friendly, even clearing the water-streaked windows with squeejees from time to time for our viewing pleasure. As we sailed back in to Valdez harbour, the sun had finally broken through the clouds, giving us a warm welcome back ashore at the end of a truly memorable day.
Wednesday, July 11, 2007
The pinnacle and the pipeline
Tuesday, July 10, 2007
VALDEZ, ALASKA — Our site number at the Eagle’s Rest RV Campground is number 701, which may give you an idea of the size of this place. There are literally hundreds of RVs here, and in our little jaunt around town we saw two or three other RV parks with equally large numbers! I wouldn’t be surprised if this town of 4,500 was hosting a thousand RVs tonight.
What is drawing all these tourists? A glance outside will tell you: the town is surrounded by steep, snow-capped mountain peaks on three sides, and the beautiful Prince William Sound, where great ships glide in and out and whales frolic, on the south side. Valdez is called Alaska’s little Switzerland, but it’s also the delivery end of the Alaska pipeline, a haven for fishing of salmon and halibut and a mecca for extreme sports enthusiasts.
But getting here, as the expression goes, is half the fun. We had a wonderful drive south today from Glennallen on the scenic Richardson Highway, passing alongside sheer rock faces, over rushing streams and rivers turned milky grey by glacial melting, and through the Thompson Pass where the mighty Worthington Glacier thrusts its blue-green icy fingers down the mountainside. More than once we pulled over to snap pictures that were so perfect, you’d think you were standing in a post card.
Most of the journey was through territory where only the bears and moose live; there were very few habitations. I was thinking about those creatures when we stopped to have a look at the Alaska pipeline. Our Mileposts guide indicated where to do this; otherwise we would have missed it completely. There was a nice gravel turnout, and an opening in the fencing where people could go in to read the interpretive sign and walk right up to the huge structure. To our right and our left, this enormous metal tube snaked out of sight, about 20 feet off the ground, held up by huge H-shaped supports. The vertical bars of the H are thermally designed to prevent the permafrost from melting and causing unevenness. The cross bars give room for the pipes to move laterally in case of seismic movement. Built in 1973, the pipes are about four feet in diameter and half an inch thick, and millions of gallons of oil flow through them from far-off Prudhoe Bay every day! It was an impressive sight.
It was cloudy today, and sometimes rainy, so there are some mountain tops we hope to see more clearly on the way back (the road in to Valdez is also the road out). We actually were driving in the clouds as we came through the pass, watching wisps of them floating by and nestling into the clefts of the rocks. The sky cleared enough for us to get a good look at Mount Billy Mitchell, named after a U.S. lieutenant who worked on building the trans-Alaska telegraph line in 1903.
We stopped at the viewing site for the Worthington Glacier and were able to look at it closely through telescopes. We saw people on the glacier when we looked through — a man at the base of a huge blue-green crack in the glacier and, high above him wearing crampons and aided by ropes and a pick, a woman who had just about made it to the top! Seeing them on the glacier allowed us to take in its size; they were completely dwarfed by the huge tongue of ice and snow.
One of the interpretive signs described a life form we never really believed existed: there actually ARE such things as ice worms! Robert Service wasn’t weaving tall tales in his iceworm poem after all — or at least not about the creatures themselves. There were actual microscopic photos of the little critters.
The highway followed the Tiekel River down the mountain through the awesome Keystone Canyon, where rock faces soared up at steep angles from the roadbed on either side. The river flows on to the town of Valdez, and before we got to the official town we passed the site of the old town that was wiped out by the earthquake and tsunami of 1964. It measured 9.2 on the Richter scale, and the tremors were felt as far away as California and South America. The epicentre was 45 miles west of here. Valdez is also known for the huge oil spill of the Exxon Valdez in 1989. Strangely, both disasters took place on a Good Friday. The quake killed 131 in all; the oil spill, unnumbered birds and sea creatures along many coastlines, although the port of Valdez itself was not affected.
We actually got to see footage of the pipeline construction and the earthquake at the Sugar and Spice shop, where some enterprising merchants have set up chairs in front of a TV with free continuous screenings of both films amid the racks of T-shirts and trinkets! Our price of admission included a cosy sweatshirt and T-shirt emblazoned with "Alaska" that Val picked up!
VALDEZ, ALASKA — Our site number at the Eagle’s Rest RV Campground is number 701, which may give you an idea of the size of this place. There are literally hundreds of RVs here, and in our little jaunt around town we saw two or three other RV parks with equally large numbers! I wouldn’t be surprised if this town of 4,500 was hosting a thousand RVs tonight.
What is drawing all these tourists? A glance outside will tell you: the town is surrounded by steep, snow-capped mountain peaks on three sides, and the beautiful Prince William Sound, where great ships glide in and out and whales frolic, on the south side. Valdez is called Alaska’s little Switzerland, but it’s also the delivery end of the Alaska pipeline, a haven for fishing of salmon and halibut and a mecca for extreme sports enthusiasts.
But getting here, as the expression goes, is half the fun. We had a wonderful drive south today from Glennallen on the scenic Richardson Highway, passing alongside sheer rock faces, over rushing streams and rivers turned milky grey by glacial melting, and through the Thompson Pass where the mighty Worthington Glacier thrusts its blue-green icy fingers down the mountainside. More than once we pulled over to snap pictures that were so perfect, you’d think you were standing in a post card.
Most of the journey was through territory where only the bears and moose live; there were very few habitations. I was thinking about those creatures when we stopped to have a look at the Alaska pipeline. Our Mileposts guide indicated where to do this; otherwise we would have missed it completely. There was a nice gravel turnout, and an opening in the fencing where people could go in to read the interpretive sign and walk right up to the huge structure. To our right and our left, this enormous metal tube snaked out of sight, about 20 feet off the ground, held up by huge H-shaped supports. The vertical bars of the H are thermally designed to prevent the permafrost from melting and causing unevenness. The cross bars give room for the pipes to move laterally in case of seismic movement. Built in 1973, the pipes are about four feet in diameter and half an inch thick, and millions of gallons of oil flow through them from far-off Prudhoe Bay every day! It was an impressive sight.
It was cloudy today, and sometimes rainy, so there are some mountain tops we hope to see more clearly on the way back (the road in to Valdez is also the road out). We actually were driving in the clouds as we came through the pass, watching wisps of them floating by and nestling into the clefts of the rocks. The sky cleared enough for us to get a good look at Mount Billy Mitchell, named after a U.S. lieutenant who worked on building the trans-Alaska telegraph line in 1903.
We stopped at the viewing site for the Worthington Glacier and were able to look at it closely through telescopes. We saw people on the glacier when we looked through — a man at the base of a huge blue-green crack in the glacier and, high above him wearing crampons and aided by ropes and a pick, a woman who had just about made it to the top! Seeing them on the glacier allowed us to take in its size; they were completely dwarfed by the huge tongue of ice and snow.
One of the interpretive signs described a life form we never really believed existed: there actually ARE such things as ice worms! Robert Service wasn’t weaving tall tales in his iceworm poem after all — or at least not about the creatures themselves. There were actual microscopic photos of the little critters.
The highway followed the Tiekel River down the mountain through the awesome Keystone Canyon, where rock faces soared up at steep angles from the roadbed on either side. The river flows on to the town of Valdez, and before we got to the official town we passed the site of the old town that was wiped out by the earthquake and tsunami of 1964. It measured 9.2 on the Richter scale, and the tremors were felt as far away as California and South America. The epicentre was 45 miles west of here. Valdez is also known for the huge oil spill of the Exxon Valdez in 1989. Strangely, both disasters took place on a Good Friday. The quake killed 131 in all; the oil spill, unnumbered birds and sea creatures along many coastlines, although the port of Valdez itself was not affected.
We actually got to see footage of the pipeline construction and the earthquake at the Sugar and Spice shop, where some enterprising merchants have set up chairs in front of a TV with free continuous screenings of both films amid the racks of T-shirts and trinkets! Our price of admission included a cosy sweatshirt and T-shirt emblazoned with "Alaska" that Val picked up!
Monday, July 9, 2007
The naming game
Monday, July 9, 2007
GLENNALLEN, ALASKA — RV campgrounds like to provide little extras to outshine the competition, and we have seen a number of these in the five weeks we’ve been on the road. One bragged "you’ll love our showers!" — and indeed, they were very nice, with your own little suite accessible through its separate, code-operated door. Another had vases of fresh flowers on the washroom counters and hair dryers. Then there was one that had a little patch of green grass between each site; that must have been a pain to keep mowed and neat.
The Northern Nights campground where we are staying tonight offers free desserts to campers on Mondays and Fridays, and as luck would have it, here we are on a Monday! So, at 7 o’clock we trooped over to the dining tent, sat down at one of the picnic tables, and were served hot coffee and a steaming bowl of homemade peach cobbler topped with ice cream, courtesy of the camp owner. It was a nice chance to meet some of our fellow campers, and it also gave a local river tour outfit a captive audience to describe the trips along the Copper River salmon run.
We entered Alaska this morning, just 30 kilometers from our campground in Beaver Creek where we spent last night. It was a grueling ride, with more of the dipsy-doodles that tossed our dishes yesterday, and we were hoping that, once we crossed into Alaska, things might improve. They did and they didn’t; there were a number of smooth stretches, but plenty of lumpy bits as well. I’m beginning to be an expert at rebuilding our shoe tower by the trailer door! One of the worst hazards we saw — which Val managed to miss in a stellar display of fast reflexes — was a pothole at least two feet across and a foot deep with no warning flag of any kind! Our hearts were pounding for several minutes after that close call.
The scenery we passed today included quite a few marshy areas where only black spruce can grow successfully, and a number of sandy stretches. We also saw a lot of small lakes, crossed the Chisana and Tanana Rivers, and navigated through the Midway Lake and Wrangell mountain ranges. There were some lovely mountain passes. When we turned one bend in the road, along the side was a whole field full of magenta-coloured fireweed, with a few white birches growing amongst them and a scattering of yellow buttercups. It was a delightful scene, with a backdrop of blue mountains in the distance.
The first Alaskan community we came to was Tok (rhymes with smoke), the "sled dog capital of Alaska", and our hunger for information and maps brought us to the visitor centre there. There were actually two centres next to each other, so we gleaned material from each one. At the second, we learned how the town got its name. During the construction of the Alaska Highway, the highway commissioner was camped at this spot. He had a pet husky and a bear cub that were the best of friends, and used to play-wrestle and scamper about. He decided to name the town after one of them and the husky won out; its name was Tok. I can’t remember the name of the cub! But the town is not named Winnie the Pooh!
Many of the mountains, lakes and rivers are named after explorers and people involved in the building of the Alaska Highway. I was very surprised yesterday to read in the guidebook that there was actually a creek called No Name Creek, in spite of hundreds of people whose names could have been immortalized!
We turned southward from Tok and reveled in a beautiful, long, straight stretch of freshly-paved highway, smooth as butter, that must have been built as an antidote for all the jangled nerves of travelers who had come into the state on the route we had followed. Unfortunately it did not go on for very long, and more frost-heaved surfaces awaited us further on.
We turned aside at the Indian River because the guidebook told us salmon were known to use it as a spawning run from mid-June through July, but we didn’t see any of the silvery creatures. We did bundle up, though — the temperature had dropped quite a bit from the sunny warmth of Tok, as some cloud cover had come in and the wind had picked up. No matter; it actually washed off some of the dust we had picked up earlier.
GLENNALLEN, ALASKA — RV campgrounds like to provide little extras to outshine the competition, and we have seen a number of these in the five weeks we’ve been on the road. One bragged "you’ll love our showers!" — and indeed, they were very nice, with your own little suite accessible through its separate, code-operated door. Another had vases of fresh flowers on the washroom counters and hair dryers. Then there was one that had a little patch of green grass between each site; that must have been a pain to keep mowed and neat.
The Northern Nights campground where we are staying tonight offers free desserts to campers on Mondays and Fridays, and as luck would have it, here we are on a Monday! So, at 7 o’clock we trooped over to the dining tent, sat down at one of the picnic tables, and were served hot coffee and a steaming bowl of homemade peach cobbler topped with ice cream, courtesy of the camp owner. It was a nice chance to meet some of our fellow campers, and it also gave a local river tour outfit a captive audience to describe the trips along the Copper River salmon run.
We entered Alaska this morning, just 30 kilometers from our campground in Beaver Creek where we spent last night. It was a grueling ride, with more of the dipsy-doodles that tossed our dishes yesterday, and we were hoping that, once we crossed into Alaska, things might improve. They did and they didn’t; there were a number of smooth stretches, but plenty of lumpy bits as well. I’m beginning to be an expert at rebuilding our shoe tower by the trailer door! One of the worst hazards we saw — which Val managed to miss in a stellar display of fast reflexes — was a pothole at least two feet across and a foot deep with no warning flag of any kind! Our hearts were pounding for several minutes after that close call.
The scenery we passed today included quite a few marshy areas where only black spruce can grow successfully, and a number of sandy stretches. We also saw a lot of small lakes, crossed the Chisana and Tanana Rivers, and navigated through the Midway Lake and Wrangell mountain ranges. There were some lovely mountain passes. When we turned one bend in the road, along the side was a whole field full of magenta-coloured fireweed, with a few white birches growing amongst them and a scattering of yellow buttercups. It was a delightful scene, with a backdrop of blue mountains in the distance.
The first Alaskan community we came to was Tok (rhymes with smoke), the "sled dog capital of Alaska", and our hunger for information and maps brought us to the visitor centre there. There were actually two centres next to each other, so we gleaned material from each one. At the second, we learned how the town got its name. During the construction of the Alaska Highway, the highway commissioner was camped at this spot. He had a pet husky and a bear cub that were the best of friends, and used to play-wrestle and scamper about. He decided to name the town after one of them and the husky won out; its name was Tok. I can’t remember the name of the cub! But the town is not named Winnie the Pooh!
Many of the mountains, lakes and rivers are named after explorers and people involved in the building of the Alaska Highway. I was very surprised yesterday to read in the guidebook that there was actually a creek called No Name Creek, in spite of hundreds of people whose names could have been immortalized!
We turned southward from Tok and reveled in a beautiful, long, straight stretch of freshly-paved highway, smooth as butter, that must have been built as an antidote for all the jangled nerves of travelers who had come into the state on the route we had followed. Unfortunately it did not go on for very long, and more frost-heaved surfaces awaited us further on.
We turned aside at the Indian River because the guidebook told us salmon were known to use it as a spawning run from mid-June through July, but we didn’t see any of the silvery creatures. We did bundle up, though — the temperature had dropped quite a bit from the sunny warmth of Tok, as some cloud cover had come in and the wind had picked up. No matter; it actually washed off some of the dust we had picked up earlier.
Sunday, July 8, 2007
Land of the moose, the bald eagle and the dipsy-doodle
Sunday, July 8, 2007
BEAVER CREEK, YUKON — Tonight, our home on wheels is in Canada’s westernmost community, just east of the Alaska border. The population is around 100, and one of those residents was born in New Delhi, India, lived in Barrie, ON and is our host at the Westmark RV campground at the edge of the Yukon Territory. It was kind of fun telling him about the Taj Mahal, which he has never been to, and recommending it as a good place to visit!
The English language lacks words to describe the majestic beauty of the landscapes we have driven through between Whitehorse and here. We have marveled at sweeping vistas of pine-carpeted plains, edged with huge mountains where the crevices are lined with green velvet forests and the peaks jut into the sky with jagged edges, or push through a crown of thick cloud that sends dark shadows onto their contours. We followed the Alaska Highway in a northwesterly direction, heading toward the Kluane (pronounced clue-annie) and St. Elias mountain ranges, with the Ruby Range to our right. Most of the time we were surrounded by mountains!
As we approached Kluane Lake we encountered some highway construction where a flag person indicated there would be a five-minute wait, so we turned off the engine. In the pine trees off to our left we could hear the birds in melodic conversation with each other— a treat you don’t often get when you zoom past on the highway.
When we got waved on, we went a short distance and turned in to see the Sheep Mountain interpretive centre and have our lunch. On the deck of the little building were three telescopes pointed at the mountain face behind, where mountain sheep can be seen grazing on the high slopes. Well, they can if you come at the right time of year; the guide told us that the grass is actually greener on the other side by July, so we’d have to come back in early spring or late fall for the telescopes to do us any good.
She also told us that they timed the construction on the highway so as not to disturb the 300 or so sheep. As soon as they go over the mountain top, work can begin, and if they are spotted coming back over, work must cease till they move on again!
Kluane Lake covers 400 square kilometers, and is the largest lake in the Yukon Territory. The highway ran along its western shore for some distance, bringing us through Destruction Bay, a town named after a devastating storm that occurred during the building of the Alaska Highway. When we got to Burwash Landing, we stopped to look at the little museum there. We were amazed that a tiny town with a population of 84 was home to this lovely display of local animals and Aboriginal artifacts, artfully displayed in dioramas that could easily have been part of a large city’s museum. Local artisans in the town specialize in items made of spruce burls, large mis-shapen blobs that grow on the trunks of these trees when there is an irritation in the bark. They shape the burls into bowls, knarled walking sticks or whimsical animals.
Once again on our way, we found the scenery at one extreme of the excellence scale and the road at the other. Frost had heaved the road into humps, dips, potholes and rough spots that kept Val constantly dodging the worst parts and both of us wincing at the parts we couldn’t avoid. I began to think the official flag of the Yukon should be a day-glo orange square, we saw so many of them planted by the roadside at the worst spots! But not all of them! Some hit you with no warning at all. When we finally got clear of the dipsy-doodles, we were onto gravel roadways that were smooth enough, but raised great clouds of dust behind us. When a large motor home passed us by in the oncoming lane, we saw a poor cyclist emerge from its plume of dust with a wry face — he hadn’t even thought to pull a bandana over his mouth and nose!
In spite of the terrible road, we thoroughly enjoyed the amazing scenery. At one point I spotted a bald eagle circling above us with outstretched wings, and later on there was a cow moose and her calf below us, wading at the edge of a large pool of water. I saw another moose on the right side a few miles further on. Aside from some sprightly prairie dogs, these were the first wild animals we had seen in the Yukon.
It was with some trepidation that we entered the trailer once we parked it at the campground. What a sight! The shoe tower set up by the door had come apart and thrown shoes all over the floor. Books, Val’s glasses and coasters had tumbled out of the book rack between our two chairs. The sofa was a good six inches out from the wall with the cushions all askew. A jumble of glasses and dishes greeted us in the cupboards, amazingly intact, but under the sink the largest of my three mixing bowls was broken in pieces. And over every counter and table top was a thin film of dust! Here’s hoping Alaskan highways are in a bit better shape!
BEAVER CREEK, YUKON — Tonight, our home on wheels is in Canada’s westernmost community, just east of the Alaska border. The population is around 100, and one of those residents was born in New Delhi, India, lived in Barrie, ON and is our host at the Westmark RV campground at the edge of the Yukon Territory. It was kind of fun telling him about the Taj Mahal, which he has never been to, and recommending it as a good place to visit!
The English language lacks words to describe the majestic beauty of the landscapes we have driven through between Whitehorse and here. We have marveled at sweeping vistas of pine-carpeted plains, edged with huge mountains where the crevices are lined with green velvet forests and the peaks jut into the sky with jagged edges, or push through a crown of thick cloud that sends dark shadows onto their contours. We followed the Alaska Highway in a northwesterly direction, heading toward the Kluane (pronounced clue-annie) and St. Elias mountain ranges, with the Ruby Range to our right. Most of the time we were surrounded by mountains!
As we approached Kluane Lake we encountered some highway construction where a flag person indicated there would be a five-minute wait, so we turned off the engine. In the pine trees off to our left we could hear the birds in melodic conversation with each other— a treat you don’t often get when you zoom past on the highway.
When we got waved on, we went a short distance and turned in to see the Sheep Mountain interpretive centre and have our lunch. On the deck of the little building were three telescopes pointed at the mountain face behind, where mountain sheep can be seen grazing on the high slopes. Well, they can if you come at the right time of year; the guide told us that the grass is actually greener on the other side by July, so we’d have to come back in early spring or late fall for the telescopes to do us any good.
She also told us that they timed the construction on the highway so as not to disturb the 300 or so sheep. As soon as they go over the mountain top, work can begin, and if they are spotted coming back over, work must cease till they move on again!
Kluane Lake covers 400 square kilometers, and is the largest lake in the Yukon Territory. The highway ran along its western shore for some distance, bringing us through Destruction Bay, a town named after a devastating storm that occurred during the building of the Alaska Highway. When we got to Burwash Landing, we stopped to look at the little museum there. We were amazed that a tiny town with a population of 84 was home to this lovely display of local animals and Aboriginal artifacts, artfully displayed in dioramas that could easily have been part of a large city’s museum. Local artisans in the town specialize in items made of spruce burls, large mis-shapen blobs that grow on the trunks of these trees when there is an irritation in the bark. They shape the burls into bowls, knarled walking sticks or whimsical animals.
Once again on our way, we found the scenery at one extreme of the excellence scale and the road at the other. Frost had heaved the road into humps, dips, potholes and rough spots that kept Val constantly dodging the worst parts and both of us wincing at the parts we couldn’t avoid. I began to think the official flag of the Yukon should be a day-glo orange square, we saw so many of them planted by the roadside at the worst spots! But not all of them! Some hit you with no warning at all. When we finally got clear of the dipsy-doodles, we were onto gravel roadways that were smooth enough, but raised great clouds of dust behind us. When a large motor home passed us by in the oncoming lane, we saw a poor cyclist emerge from its plume of dust with a wry face — he hadn’t even thought to pull a bandana over his mouth and nose!
In spite of the terrible road, we thoroughly enjoyed the amazing scenery. At one point I spotted a bald eagle circling above us with outstretched wings, and later on there was a cow moose and her calf below us, wading at the edge of a large pool of water. I saw another moose on the right side a few miles further on. Aside from some sprightly prairie dogs, these were the first wild animals we had seen in the Yukon.
It was with some trepidation that we entered the trailer once we parked it at the campground. What a sight! The shoe tower set up by the door had come apart and thrown shoes all over the floor. Books, Val’s glasses and coasters had tumbled out of the book rack between our two chairs. The sofa was a good six inches out from the wall with the cushions all askew. A jumble of glasses and dishes greeted us in the cupboards, amazingly intact, but under the sink the largest of my three mixing bowls was broken in pieces. And over every counter and table top was a thin film of dust! Here’s hoping Alaskan highways are in a bit better shape!
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