arctic tundra

Atigun Pass was our final destination, but we drove 40 miles past it once we saw the sweeping tundra of the North Slope. There are no trees on the arctic tundra, allowing great views, especially when the weather cooperates. The remaining 130 miles of the Dalton Highway would have undoubtedly been a beautiful drive, and we probably would have seen caribou or even a grizzly. But once you get to Deadhorse, you are not allowed to see the Arctic Ocean on your own, and I think that would have been a disappointment. To access the Arctic Ocean, you must get a security clearance before boarding a small tour bus that takes you across the oilfields for a 20 minute look at the ocean. Frank and I want to see the Arctic Ocean while we're here, but we think a flight to Barrow (mid-winter??!) might be a better option. Instead, we stayed on the tundra, enjoying the beautiful weather and quiet vistas of the day.

Atigun Pass

Atigun Pass is the highest mountain pass in Alaska and the northern most pass open for winter travel in the world. Although the pass looks harmless in the bottom picture, I was very nervous as we climbed to the nearly 4,800 foot summit. It's a gravel road up and over the summit, and oncoming trucks have the right of way, which is especially nerve wracking when the smashed and mangled "guard" rail is all that separates you from the edge. Frank spotted a muskox on our way over the pass, and I saw the Dall sheep on the way back.  

farthest north fourth

The Arctic Interagency Visitor Center in Coldfoot is the newest structure on the Dalton Highway. Jointly supported by the Bureau of Land Management, U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service, and the National Parks Service, this building hosts wildlife exhibits, a gift shop, and the cleanest bathrooms on the 414 mile route. Here, we found out about Palin's resignation (no love lost there - "drill, baby, drill" is not a popular slogan among park rangers), and we were told about a 4th of July party in Wiseman, just 13 miles up the road. A few minutes later, while gassing up at Coldfoot Camp, I overheard a burly fellow named "Clutch" talking about the party - how musicians had come up from Fairbanks, and how anybody was welcome. We weren't on any schedule, so we drove to Wiseman, secured our little spot next to the Koyukuk River, and stayed for two nights. 

Wiseman has a population of about 20. It's an old mining town that never died thanks to homesteaders who continue to live there using wind and solar energy. I saw Clutch again the next morning, and he welcomed me and told me about a gentleman who had bought an old cabin there in the 60s and found $18,000 worth of gold in a mason jar under one of the floorboards. Walking through town, I felt like I was in a Foxfire book. A young girl tended horses, musicians played old-timey music, and cotton from the cottonwood trees drifted through the air. The Kalhabuk Memorial Chapel, dedicated to the last Nunamiat Eskimo resident in town, was magical too. It is open 24 hours a day, and I found myself drawn inside this holy place as a welcome respite from the wear and tear of the road. A huge storm came through right as the party was gearing up, but when we ventured out after it had passed, we found the party had continued on despite the bad weather. This was the only party in town (and by town, I mean a 200 mile stretch of highway); folks from up and down the Dalton Highway came to be there. Rain or shine, mosquitoes be damned, these independent people would stop at nothing to celebrate their independence.

the fun of camping

Before Alaska, camping to me was all about tents and rain gear, clever packing and bringing just the right amount of food. But when we moved here we bought a camper, and much to my surprise, I really love it. I feel safe (from the bears) when I go to sleep at night, and you can't beat sitting out a thunderstorm all snuggled up inside with a good book. Sure, I could do that in a tent, but I've moved on, I guess. Usually, another plus to RVing in Alaska is that you can pull over on the side of the road to camp anywhere, but on the Dalton Highway there weren't as many pull-offs, so finding a camping spot was not as easy. We lucked out, though, and found a spot on a bluff above the Yukon River one night, and then spent two nights in a little spot next to the Middle Fork of the Koyukuk River near Wiseman, Alaska. More about Wiseman later.  

That spot next to the Koyukuk was as close to heaven as I think I've ever gotten. The river is clear and shallow, and it runs through the foothills of the Brooks Range. The north fork of this river flows out of two high mountains in this range, thus giving the national park the name "Gates of the Arctic".  Many tributaries of the Koyukuk are open to recreational gold mining, and we dug out the gold pan to give it a go. We didn't find any gold, but I did find a pretty apple green rock which may or may not be an abundant type of jade that is found in the Brooks Range. I'm calling it jade until someone tells me otherwise. 

Our last night was spent just off the highway on the Jim River. By then, Frank and I were ready to get home, but we wanted to fish for arctic grayling above the arctic circle. This is grizzly country, so we had a rifle with us, but it was the mosquitoes that drove us off the river in the end. Bears ain't got nothing on mosquitoes; they were relentless!!!

The Dalton Highway

Frank and I tackled the Dalton Highway last week (yes! he's home, but only for a short break). I had been so curious about what lay NORTH of Fairbanks and am so glad we finally made the trip. It's a long, dusty, bumpy, mosquito-ridden drive, but it's also so exhilarating to travel north of the arctic circle into wilderness that has remained largely untouched by civilization. Besides two places to gas up on the side of the road (at the Yukon River and Coldfoot) the only structures on the highway are DOT or pump stations where workers monitor the operation of the Alaska Pipeline that runs parallel to the highway.  

We turned around about 130 miles shy of the Arctic Ocean (which means we drove about 730 miles round trip), but now we have an excuse to do it again. We saw so much, one entry just won't do the experience justice, so I'll post some pics and stories over the next few days . . . . 

bring on the heat

I love to be warm, hot even. Growing up in Jacksonville, Florida, I used to sit on the front stoop of the house, soaking in the heat like a sponge (if you've experienced thick humidity you'll understand that image). June (and hopefully July) is the only time of the year when it MIGHT be warm here in Alaska, and this June did not disappoint. Unlike the rest of the country, we had almost a whole month of sunshine. In the summertime, Fairbanks is usually the warmest spot in the state. I love to travel and see different parts of Alaska, but whenever we are on the road, I always kind of wish we had stayed at home because the sun is inevitably not shining anywhere else. 

Or, one can go to Arizona in June. Ahh, now that's heat. A few weeks ago, I was the lucky guest of a very fine resort in Scottsdale, Arizona (thanks Ron and Edyie!). I love Arizona - the people are friendly and happy, probably because they are warm ALL THE TIME. Sarah, Heidi, my fabulous nephew, Boden, and I all had an incredible time. We spent most of the week at the kiddie pool; kiddie pools rock! We were the only ones in it, the shallow water was very warm, and the waiters brought us drinks poolside. Ah, Arizona, I'll miss you. : )

The Prickly Rose

In early June, the prickly rose blooms. The ubiquitous shrub is the only native rose in Alaska.

eye-opening week-end

I was off gallivanting in south central Alaska (a.k.a. Anchorage area) this past week-end with friends, Lorraine and Craig, and missed a crazy week-end in Fairbanks. A fire started only a few miles from our house in North Pole and burned for about a day before being completely contained on Friday. No structures were lost, but people were evacuated from their homes. According to my neighbor, planes and helicopters were swarming the neighborhood in an effort to contain it. And on Friday, while checking the news about the fire, I saw that a fellow co-worker from North Pole High School had been lost since Wednesday. She wasn't found until Saturday - but she's okay, thank God. I was so worried about her. She had been hiking with her 9 month old pup and somehow ended up 8 miles off trail. She set up camp on the banks of a waterway and was finally picked up by a helicopter crew. Alaska would be crippled without the aviation industry!!

While following the drama at home, I also saw and experienced unbelievable sights in Eagle River where Craig and Lorraine live. The Chugach mountains are VERY pretty and easily accessible. Maybe too accessible - we saw a grizzly bear only two driveways down from Craig and Lorraine's house. WOW! Oh, and I had fun at a Renaissance Fair - now that was an eye-opener.

Hercules and the Moose

I've been wanting to write a post about perspective, and this morning a little dog named Hercules gave me the lead-in I was looking for. 

I took the dogs to the floodplain around 7:30 this morning. The sun rose at 3:45 am, so it was already a beautiful day, if just a bit chilly. Only a minute into the walk I saw a moose emerge from the far treeline. I grabbed Ashe and P.D. but little Herc took off running towards the four-legged creature in the distance. I think he thought it was another dog. Hercules is a Shitzu-Poodle (a.k.a. a Shit-Poo), and he's a pistol. He weighs maybe eight pounds wet, but he runs and plays and fights with the big dogs as if he was one himself. I was afraid, very afraid. As much as I called for him, he kept running and running, straight for the 800 pound moose, and in my head, I imagined breaking the news to my friend, Heather, about how I let her poor, helpless puppy get trampled to death by a moose. Thankfully, he stopped. Not, I am sure, because he realized that he was running straight for a moose, but because I let out a shrill, high-pitched "HERCULES!!!" that always seems to get his attention. He turned and ran back to me, and disaster was averted. 

What Hercules thought was one thing (a dog) was something else entirely (a moose). His perspective was skewed by a great distance. This is the story of this state! One day in my office, a student could not believe how small the states were. He was shocked that it only a took a few hours to drive from Seattle to Spokane. "They are SO SMALL!" he exclaimed incredulously. Huh, I thought to myself, that's an interesting way to think of it - Alaska's not big; the states are small!

Yeah, yeah, yeah, you've heard it before - everything is bigger in Alaska. But the difference isn't only in size and distance. Gottschalks, the only "upscale" department store in Fairbanks, is closing. Now my retail clothing options are the one-stop shopping stores (like Fred Meyers, Sams or Wal-mart), a few specialty chains (Sportsmans Warehouse and Sports Authority), or a couple of private sporting goods stores (notice the theme?). So what does this have to do with perspective? Well, I never thought I would buy so many, er, undergarments in one week. I have learned that if you see something you like here, you better get it then, because it won't be around later. This simplifies decision making for me. See it, like it, take it. Sounds like a frontier perspective to me.

the weatherman

Last night, while watching the nightly National Atmospheric and Oceanic Administration (NOAA) weather show on public TV, I had an epiphany. This guy, the modest weatherman, was as close to an Alaskan sex symbol as they come. In the first 20 minutes of the show, the anchor reports on all weather conditions around the state - an area roughly the size of half of the continental U.S.  That's a LOT of information! And the 30 minute long program is broadcast all over the state; he has a WIDE audience. People watch his show because it is full of lifesaving information, like the VFR or IFR conditions of mountain passes for pilots or turbulent sea waters for ship captains. I don't know his name, but I know his face, and I bet that Alaskans all over the state, from Juneau to Barrow, know it too.