We awake Sunday morning to calm winds but still a lot of cloud cover and threatening rain. No worries… we come prepared. We gather our wits about us and move Thumper onto a side street in town and head for the local coffee shop. It seems that coffee and internet go hand-in-hand. Not a bad combination really, the only minor problem, is that after a cup or two of so-so coffee your heart is off to the races and your mind is thinking days ahead as you are now sitting there watching the little hourglass thingy pass time ever so slowly while you are trying to upload pictures into your blog. Can you say “painful”? Sure you can. We finally get a somewhat workable update completed and head back to Thumper. Time to change gears and get out on the trail. Whoops, it’s still raining. No problem, it’s Sunday! We lock things down and head out to The Pit Bar to check up on the Steelers and hopefully find Sherry. She runs the place and is a good friend of Leeann’s. Turns out she’s at the football game…in Seattle! It’s about 11am at this point. I don’t know how they do it here, I mean a 1pm kick-off in New York means Game-On in Alaska at 9AM! So, we get to The Pit just in time for the 2^nd half of the Steelers game… but that’s all we really have to say about that.

We leave The Pit as time expires and our beers are finished and head to Exit Glacier. It is just up the side road about 4 miles and came highly recommended by Kamaria. Exit Glacier was named as such as early explorers found it to be an “easy” exit from the Harding Ice Field way up top. Ice Fields are the big thing we don’t often see that can cover the tops of entire mountain ranges. Glaciers are what we do often see, which originate in the Ice Fields and reach down off the mountains. Many Glaciers can originate from one Ice Field.

It is misting rain and the clouds are hanging low as we begin our trek. It is a 4.2-mile hike UP to the Harding Ice Field. The sign tells us to figure anywhere from 5 to 7 hours to complete the UP and back. It’s 4:20 as we make our calculations. Susan figures we can hike until 6:30 but then we have to turn around in order to get back before dark. We synchronized our watch, checked our stash of trail-food, said good-bye to Thumper and headed UP. “UP” is the operative word here as I think the only step we took DOWN on the way to the Ice Field was the one we took when we got out of the truck. It is a 3000’ elevation gain in that 4.2-miles so all we can say is, thank goodness we are at sea level!

We pass a couple coming down the trail about a mile UP and they recognize us from the campground last night. They told us they had seen bears above the trail and to keep an eye open for them. Ok… Now we have something to keep our minds off the next step. The trail is a mix of dirt and gravel shelves cut into the mountainside punctuated by steep sets of steps made up of boulders and tree roots. By “steep”, I mean… well… picture a ladder leaning against your house… you get the idea. Susan starts muttering something about a striking resemblance to trails in Nepal. We flank Exit Glacier to the right and weave our way UP the trail. We do spot the bear as we come around a corner and some of the vegetation falls away. Well, we think it was a bear as it was about 2000’ above us on the next ridge over… so let’s just call it a bear.

We eventually crest a little false-summit which reveals Exit Glacier in all its glory right there in front of us. It is REALLY hard to get the vastness of it in a picture, but that top bit is about a mile across. We are about 2/3’s the way UP the glacier at this point and we can see the top of it as it disappears into the clouds and the Harding Ice Field. It is simply amazing! Otherworldly, actually. And from all reports, it is nothing compared to the ice field itself. We see some white “Dall Dots” higher up on the ridge and another couple hikers just ahead photographing them. “Dall Dots” are what you usually see from where you are when you are looking for Dall Sheep… did we cover this already?... anyway, they are usually a LOT higher than you are. We stop and talk to the other hikers (dad-Marty and daughter-Sarah) who were also on their way back down from the Ice Field. Marty assures us that the Dall Dots are only about another 15-minute walk away. Susan says we only have 12 minutes left before we have to turn back. Jim talks her into an extra 3 minutes and sprints off for the Dots. Just for the books here, sprinting uphill anywhere, even if it is at only 2000’ above sea level, isn’t really a good idea for anyone who has been sitting in a truck for the past 5 weeks.

Jim eventually gets to within shooting distance of the Dall Sheep (photographically speaking) and begins to add to our collection of out-of-focus animal shots. Susan completes the advance upon the Dots at her own pace and probably arrives in much better shape than Jim did.

We watch the herd for 10 minutes or so and then turn and make our first steps DOWN the trail. Our timing is about perfect and we should get down right at dark, barring any unforeseen circumstances, that is. Jim has a couple shots of what looks like Susan walking down the trail at midnight… but really… it wasn’t that dark… really.

As we exit the trail and get onto the paved walkway back towards Thumper, we find Marty & Sarah standing there waiting. “For what?”, we ask as Marty points ahead on the walkway. There is a cow moose and her calf just hanging out there, right where we need to go. Not being ones to let a 1200# mother and her kid get in the way of our warm Thumper, Susan and Jim run right at her and throwing little stones at her kid while using the flash on Jims camera to kinda make a stobe-effect to totally confuse them.

No… really we just waited there until they decided to move off the walkway.

We drive down the road to just outside the Exit Glacier Park entrance and pull into a parking area complete with a private bathroom. It is still doing it’s best to imitate a typical Seattle day being all misty and foggy and cloudy and damp as we warm up Thumper and revel in the joy of yet another day in Alaska.

Seward Bound

Seward Bound…

Our next official destination was Seward which lies on the southern tip of the Kenai Peninsula. Jim’s wonderful sister, Leeann, lived there for a couple years back in the 90’s and we needed to go visit her old stopping grounds. We had a list of things to do and see down this way both from Leeann and from Elise, our new friend from Kantishna, who had spent some years working and playing there as well. And besides, if we were going to take a glacier & wildlife sight-seeing cruise while we are in Alaska, it is Seward from where we would take it.

Our drive to the Kenai takes us right through Anchorage, Alaska’s largest city. We have not seen many traffic lights since Denver so we are not exactly looking forward to heading into the city… but that is where the road goes and so, then, must we. Alaska, by the way, has only about 600,000 residents but close to 70% of them live in Anchorage. The one thing we keep focusing on here is the possibility of cheaper fuel in the city, other than that, it’s right on through. Anchorage also sits at the north end of the Cook Inlet right where it splits into the Knik Arm and the Turnagain Arm. This is a very special place as far as tides are concerned.

The tidal changes in the Turnagain Arm can be extreme and quick insomuch as when there is a large tidal differential (between low and high tides) the incoming wave of the high tide can get to 6’ tall! People actually go out and surf this wave! We got to see a fairly good tidal change and watched the water heading out of the Arm in such a rate that it looked like a river with all the rapids and currents. It was so impressive to watch that Jim told Susan he could just pull up a chair and watch the tide changes for a day. It was getting towards evening and so we looked for a camping spot along the road where we could see the water.

We found a nice spot up on a little landing above the road and parked so we had a clear view of the Arm. Beluga Whales are also a common sight in these waters so we kept a sharp lookout for them as well. All set for the night, we watched the sun set over the mountains as we ate another wonderful meal. Susan recently thought that she should have been keeping track of our dinners as we have had so many good ones. In fact, Tim, who we met at Kantishna, suggested Susan should write a cookbook with all the meals she has made in Thumper.

Our first stop the next morning is a ski-resort town up the road a bit called Girdwood which sits in a Boreal Rainforest and therefore has a much more diverse array of plant life. Elise had told us about a nice little trail there and we figured taking a couple hour hike through the woods would be a perfect way to start our day.

The Winner Trail at first meandered through the forest of tall trees, BIG ferns and mushrooms in more colors than we’d ever seen (including purple!) then through a pretty impressive avalanche shoot. After a mile or so we drop down into a canyon and the trail ran along a medium size creek that grew as we went along. More beautiful mushrooms, glimpses of increasingly fast moving water, then a roar as the creek channels through a steep and narrow gorge tumbling into pools of deep blue, then dropping again, pooling and dropping.

The little bridge that crossed this chasm was only about 10 feet long-the air distance from one side to the other being maybe 6 feet (I could tell Jim was thinking about jumping it ;-), the drop from bridge to creek upstream was only 10 feet, the drop on the downstream side was probably 25 feet. So incredible! We hang out there for a bit and Jim continues to make Susan feel… well… just a bit uneasy as he climbs here and there trying to get the best angle for a photograph. The trail goes on further but this is as far as we are going so we retrace our footsteps back to the trailhead. Aside from this wonderful gem, though, Girdwood just seems to be another resort town full of condos and high-priced hotels. We poach a little free internet, make some espresso and head on down the road.

We make a turn at the far end of the Turnagain Arm and head down to visit a small town called Hope which sits across the water from the road we just drove in on from Anchorage. Leeann & Kamaria gave this place high ratings so we figured we should check it out. There was a nice campground at the end of the road there and we find a site tucked back in the woods. A little side note on the road thing… a LOT of roads here go in and stop. There is usually a town at the end, sometimes a campground or maybe an old mine but if you’re lucky… a hot-spring. We figured we would camp here tonight and head to Seward in the morning but after a little discussion on the topic, we decided to continue on towards Seward. You see... It was Saturday afternoon we were getting spoiled. I mean, we have been traveling with very few people on the roads or in the campgrounds. Now, here, on a nice weekend not far from the city, the sites along the water were all taken and, despite the fact that our site was really nice, we couldn’t see the tide changing from our front porch. This is simply not acceptable. Our thinking was that we can head south and explore the outer reaches of the Kenai and then return here mid-week and get a little water-front space for a night or so. We do a lot of thinking and a sometimes it actually pays off. Back on the road and towards Seward we go figuring at the rate we drive, we could get to town with a little daylight to spare.

We were anxious to get to Seward and start uncovering the lost years of my Big-Little Sister. We note The Pit Bar along the main road towards town. This is where Leeann worked while she was in Seward so it was definitely going to be a stop for us… but not right now... we need a camping spot. We go into town still letting *Aunt Alvina’s travel journal guide us and found the City Campground right by at the waters’ edge. After a little civil cnversation about where to set up shop, we find the perfect spot right where we expected it to be. Aunt Alvina spent $1.50 per night here back in 1972… we are spending $15.00. With Thumper backed into place and the heater fired up, we settle in for a windy night. The clouds are low and it’s trying to rain and our little oasis rocks back and forth in the gusts. Somehow, our neighbor has a fire going. We settle in and cuddle up for our first night in Seward.

* In 1972, Jim’s Aunt Alvina, along with his grandparents, Bill & Velma Tribely and his oldest brother, Lou, drove from Pennsylvania to Alaska and back. Aunt Alvina kept a travel journal along the way and we have a copy of it with us. We read about their experiences and where they stayed and we have been trying to revisit as many of those places as we can on our trip. It has been a fun comparison between then and now.

Talkeetna was our goal. Carol, Jim’s mom, was the first of many people who felt we would love it there. They all were right! We pulled in late on a rainy afternoon to this village on the south side of the Alaskan range, launch point for most all of the Denali climbs and, until it’s “discovery” a few years back by Princess tours, just a regular working town. The Talkeetna Roadhouse dates back to 1914... and the general store is not much younger. The main street holds about a dozen stores and eateries including a brewery. The original airstrip is just off Main Street and the community center is the old hanger.

We had heard from Jim’s folks that Todd Basalone, a Pennsylvania native who graduated with Jim’s brother Ralf, had been living in Talkeetna for a while and owned the pizza place. So after finding a quiet side street to camp for the night, we headed over to Mountain High Pizza Pie. Todd was not in, but Kristin, also from PA, was our waitress and made us feel quite welcome. Mountain High serves up a REALLY good pizza, spinach salad and one of the best barley wines I’ve ever enjoyed (Alaskan Brewing Company, on tap here only because they sell so much beer for ABC). We sat outside in the beer garden, visited with Kristin and watched the world go by, which it does very slowly around here now that the tours busses have stopped for the season. She explained tourism is a blessing and a curse here. Yes it does bring in some income, though many of the cruise tours drop people at shops owned by the company and maintain their own hotels in the interior of Alaska as well, so the money doesn’t really get put into the local economy (except for the lower paying service jobs), rather it goes back to the outside parent company. Talkeetna is a bit different because it does have some small, locally owned, craft shops and they have always had some travelers coming through because of the mountain, just not in groups of several hundred at a time. Before tours started coming to town, residents really had a 12 month economy. People worked the jobs they could find or started a business, fixed things for each other, hunted, grew food or gathered what nature provided, but they made it year round on their own. Now it’s more like a 6-month economy where many folks really depend on the tourist dollars and lots of places close down for the winter. All the local folks we talked with while we were there were pretty philosophical about it, but the longer-term residents especially missed just being a quiet little town. Filled with the best pizza we’ve had in a long, long time we headed off to bed, looking forward to seeing Talkeetna in the light of day.

The next morning dawned clear (have we mentioned how that happens to us a lot here?) so we wandered around the corner and down the main street to explore. We made it to the old railroad tracks where Jim was delighted to find they were replacing timbers and so had many old spikes laying around just waiting to be collected. As we were headed into the Roadhouse for breakfast (yup-two meals out in a row! But they make their pancakes with 100 year old sourdough-how could we resist??) a man called out from across the street at the pizza place. It was Todd (Kristin had pointed us out to him). We were glad to finally meet him. He seemed so familiar. We both said later that if we didn’t know better we’d have sworn he was Lou’s lost twin. They look alike, sound alike and have similar mannerisms as well as a great sense of humor! Turns out it was Todd’s birthday and he was headed into Anchorage with a friend to see some music that night, but he invited us to go out and spend some time at his place anyway. “It’s on the most beautiful lake! It’s so peaceful, I’d really like for you to be able to enjoy it. I’ll be back tomorrow anyway and we can hang out then” Well, ok then. We made arrangements to follow him out there a little later and went to eat another yummy Talkeetna meal.

Now sometimes people will tell you that they live in a special place, and you might be able to see why it’s special to them, but let me tell you, Todd’s place was off the hook! About 20 minutes out of town we turned down a small road, to a dirt road to a drive and then out into a clearing in front of a nice looking 2 story wood house. It was, as he had said, on a serene lake surrounded by forest (in gold, red and green) with islands dotting the otherwise glassy surface. High bush cranberries and the last of the year’s wildflowers filled the meadow that bordered his big garage/work shed a little way from the house.

Todd has done an incredible job of retaining the natural flora around the house, while clearing enough space to create wonderful areas for hanging out, including a deck that over looks the lake, a floating pier from which to fish or just hang out and a nice grassy lawn for Frisbee or throwing a ball for the dogs. Yes, four of them! There’s Thea, old and sweet as Sharkey was and about as stiff. Roxie, a cute little Rottweiler who just showed up in his yard one day, Mojo, his big, beautiful black lab and Guido, a kind of rolly-polly pug who seemed to pretty much straddle the canine-human line. Such a fun pack.! Made us miss our Zuma dog even more! Oh yes, there was also Cosmo the kitty, who of course took a special liking to Jim ;-)

I knew seeing the yard that Todd had done a ton of work, but when he took us inside and started talking about the evolution of the house I couldn’t help but think “This man really is from PA! J He’s painted most of the house in what Kristen later called “Steeler’s gold” (with a few complimentary colors) and decorated with really cool local art and Steeler and Penguin paraphernalia .

We had a great time getting to know each other hanging out that morning and as a bonus got to meet his friend Jamie (from Phili!), but eventually they had to get on the road. Todd left us with a beautiful fillet of red salmon and instructions to get into the kayak or the canoe and get out onto the lake. He directed us to one particular island where he has a campsite and a couple good fishing holes and off they went for the evening. Well, you didn’t have to tell Jim twice to grab a rod after he got bit by the fishing bug back in Valdez. The next thing I knew he was down on the dock with a cigar, his pole (and Todd’s) “just to see what was out there”. I had a wonderful time sitting in the quiet beauty reading. After a bit we decided to adventure off in one of the boats and managed to find not only the camping island but three or four others as well.

I cannot adequately describe the experience of paddling along with nothing but crystal clear water and trees surrounding us. Todd had given us such an amazing gift, just by his spontaneous generosity, opening up his home to people whom, despite one being from his hometown, were really strangers to him. We hope someday to be able to return the favor!

After our paddling, we got down to fixing dinner. Just as it was finished cooking, Kristen and her boyfriend Zack pulled up. They are living with Todd for a couple weeks while finishing up some work on their own place down the road. We had a great night hanging out with them and swapping stories. It was another wonderful experience of connecting with people you felt like you had known for years.

In the morning we got to hang out a bit with Todd again when he got back, but we had a mission to get Jim’s bike repaired and with a name of someone, who might know someone who could do that, we said our good byes. We have found this is an interesting and consistent feature in Alaskan towns. There may not be a bike shop, for example, for hundreds of miles. Indeed that was the situation here. But somewhere in town there was likely to be a person possessing skills and enough of a bone yard to help out the local biking population as needed. The trick was finding them. In this case, Todd and Jamie agreed that Danielle, local pilot and avid biker would be the go to person. Since she owned only a bike (and a plane) but no car she either could fix bikes or knew that someone who could. And Wahoo!... She did! Ralf Hoeppner of We-Cycle. He lived out of town on the way to Anchorage. Jim gave him a call and he said that we could stop by later and he’d see what he could do. Beauty. But before town, we left we really had to have one more meal at Mountain High (and a shared barley wine since we wouldn’t be getting to Juneau and the brewer). Well, we thought the pizza was good, but the calzone… I could go on & on! Let’s just say it was an extremely tasty lunch AND dinner the next night, for both of us. Thanks Todd! Oh yeah, I meant to mention how he got his start in the pizza business: selling homemade calzones in the lot after Dead shows. He’s a mighty good cook and did well enough to keep himself comfortably on tour for quite a while. His retired VW bus still sits behind the beer garden. J

On the way out to Ralf’s we turned down a dirt drive with a “Fresh Vegetables” sign that I’d been eyeing since we first pulled into town. We’ve been missing the homegrown food that is usually so much a part of our lives this time of year and have not let a farm stand go by unvisited. The road wandered down to the river where it opened up to a lovely old house surrounded by gardens, greenhouses and some random out-buildings . A fit looking gentleman in his late 60’s greeted us, though there was no “stand” in site. Turns out Ed’s idea of sharing his bounty is to walk you around the many plots of veggies and flowers to see what’s ready to be harvested. If you are interested in taking it home, he’ll pick it for you right then. It was a delight to wander the property discovering beds of this and that, all thriving, while talking with a man who moved to Talkeetna in the early 70’s. In the end we had a HUGE bag of beautiful food, which fed us for the next week and heads full of stories and philosophy that will continue to nurture us for a long time to come.

When we arrived we found a sign on Ralf’s door that read: “This is a home business. If we are home, we are open for business. 24-hours a day, 7-days a week, (unless it’s a nice day and we are out riding)”. And riding is what this couple is all about. They have bikes with FAT tires built for riding in snow, bikes with frames designed to carry some serious weight for touring, hauling kayaks or whatever the situation requires (moose meat? it is Alaska) and bikes for just blazing away the miles from one place to the next. Ralf knew what was up and fixed the problem with Jim’s bike in less time than it took for me to untangle mine from the straps that held it to the rack. Since we were there, I asked him to look at my very poorly functioning derailleur, which he did and was most frustrated that he couldn’t get it to work 100%. Oh well. It worked well enough and now, thanks to Ralf, we could actually ride our bikes! J But, once again, it was the experience of just hanging out in his garage, decked out as a high end bike shop, talking about riding in Alaska, the people who come through and the life that Ralf and Tracy have built here, that left us feeling so grateful and inspired. Everywhere we have ever traveled, we have met great people, but there is something about the folks in the far North that shines so brightly. They are capable, creative and kind. It’s really a winning combination.

Leaving Valdez...Harder than we'd thought

We woke early on Tuesday morning in hopes of getting a standby spot on the ferry over to Whittier, but alas, even arriving hours before they loaded we were 7^th in line. As the gentleman working the ticket window said, “Not a chance”. Oh well. Plan B, which was hugely appealing due to the extraordinary landscape in which we found ourselves, was to go on a hike then head out to Talkeetna. The fog had lifted while Jim fished the day before and the mountains surrounding this little bay had revealed themselves. OH my! One of the tourist booklets we got somewhere along the way had a title “Valdez…even Mother Nature has favorites” and I have to say they spoke the truth. Snow covered peaks that dropped straight into the sea. No less than 4 glaciers visible right from town. The water here is an unbelievable green-blue and so calm, during our stay, that it mirrored everything.

Sea Otters and Harbor Seals were playing among the boats, catching salmon and generally seeming to have a fine time. Eagles, bald and golden, as well as many other birds seem to love it here as well. The Exxon disaster, which was 20 years ago now, caused a serious backlash against the oil companies. Significant practice improvements and much tighter supervision seem to have really benefitted the area, which is not to say that it’s been a full recovery, but many of the species are thriving again.

So off we went down to the Slough trail, which winds through a forest of elder trees and past two HUGE cottonwoods and out into the wetlands along the sound. Salmon were swimming up the little streams (I mean really little-so shallow their dorsal fins were out of the water much of the time) and many had obviously already laid their eggs and were dead or dying in the gravel. Kind of crazy seeing it all just like they taught us in school! We wandered out to the beach and walked along marveling once again at our luck and at the small rocks (of course) that where everywhere here. So many had been rounded into discs of varying sizes it was amazing. We found a nice spot and settled in to just enjoy it all. Across the bay we watched as the ferry grew kind of big and then very small, making it’s way out to Prince William Sound and beyond. What we knew to be a huge tanker came in, but looked it looked so insignificant against the water and mountains it almost seemed like a toy.

While I collected and sorted rocks, Jim got creative and built a Goldsworthy-style stone egg. It came out great and may still be standing if the tide hasn’t washed it away. While we were both absorbed in our rock-play Jim called to me quietly and pointed up the beach. Moseying along toward us, clearly in no hurry, was a Brown Bear. Jim had the wherewithal to pick up his camera and get a couple shots. I, on the other hand, was running through all the ‘what to do in a bear encounter’ information I had read in the past month. “No running”. That’s good, cause the beach was rocky and I’m sure he was much faster than me. “Try to look big”. OK. I walked slowly next to where Jim was sitting and put my arms up over my head. “Talk firmly and calmly to the bear”. Hmmm, calmly? My heart was pounding so loud I figured he could already hear that, but he was still walking straight for us. “Hello Mr. Bear. Nice to see you….” He swung his head up, seemed to finally recognize we were not a big rock that had mysteriously appeared on his familiar beach and shot off into the brush. Wow. Some sense of relief there, but also a wish that I had waited so we could have checked him out a bit more. It was way beyond cool to see this giant creature in his home, looking for fish or berries or maybe just enjoying the stellar day. We stayed a while longer, kind of hoping he’d appear down along the water somewhere, but I guess we were enough of a surprise to keep him off the beach the rest of the morning. And the salmon were running all over the place, so perhaps he just went for sushi.

Making our way back across the wetlands toward the truck I think we were both feeling the same sense of not wanting to leave. Valdez is an extraordinarily beautiful and special place, among the many we have seen on this journey. We took our time, stopped at the espresso shack and to get some post cards.

We drove slowly out of town listening to their community radio station, entertainingly enough in the middle of their fund drive. Getting back in the car after a photo stop on the edge of the old town site some 3 or 4 miles up the estuary we decided to go back to KCHU and make a donation. After all where would KAFM be if folks just thought about supporting it? The drive back in was breath-taking; the scenery that had been obscured by fog on our first ride in was out in all it’s glory. Made me glad we’d turned around. So did the visit with the nice folks at KCHU. Jim gave them a couple CDs for their collection (Hot Buttered Rum, Big Water and Pimps of Joytime). We got a nice hat for our donation as well as a sense of being part of a cool little community if only for a day. As we headed out the second time, we swung by to get one last espresso from the girl in the hot pink fishnets.

Fishing isn't about catching fish!

First off, I want to thank Susan for making me relive my fishing experience in Valdez simply for enjoyment of others. Secondly, I wish to thank Uncle Karl and my Dad for supplying me with the tools I needed to ensure I was able to fish for days on end, if required. The vision of coolers full of fresh salmon being delivered from my fishing line directly to doorsteps across America was like an addiction right from the first cast. What is that motto they are using against drug use?, “Not even Once!” Well, it’s way too late now. The Silver Salmon were running, 3 weeks late this year, and just in time for our arrival. License in my pocket, pole and tackle in my hands, I was off for the pier. It was 12:53pm, I remember it well. My first cast into the cold waters of the bay using the best looking lure in the tackle box was perfect, right where I wanted it and right where I KNEW the salmon would be the thickest. I could see the salmon in the water, they were everywhere, but somehow they resisted my good-looking lure. Inconceivable! I shifted my way down the bank towards an area with an especially large number of salmon breaking the water surface. Again I cast, again they resist. Tony, a local 5^th grader comes down by me and sees all the fish and says he’s going to catch one, “good luck”, I think. And ya know… before I could get my next cast untangled from the seaweed he yells out, “I GOT ONE!” Sure enough he pulls in a nice 20” salmon and then says, “Excuse me, Jim? Could you help me?”

I have now somehow become the official hook remover for Tony as he pulls in 4 or 5 nice size fish one right after the other. I’m thinking, “Dude. You really have to figure out how to do this yourself.” I manage to find a moment to make my escape and move out onto the pier to try my luck out in the open water a bit more. Tony’s older brother, Mikhail (a 6^th grader), is fishing out on the pier as well and begins to educate me on the finer points of fishing for “Silvers”. Turns out you don’t even need to cast that great looking lure out at all, simply release the line, let the lure drop to the bottom, then pull it up a little and just wiggle it a bit… “Like this”. Wouldn’t you know it, he latched onto a nice fish that takes his line for a run and then spits the hook. Ok… I’m in! Drop down, Pull up a little & Wiggle. Drop down, Pull up a little & Wiggle.

Seems so simple.

It’s a beautiful day in Valdez by any standard. One guy in shorts walks by and I make a comment that any day you can wear shorts is a good day. He replies, “Yep, 5^th day this summer!” Wow, did we luck out, being here on such a day. Mikhail and I continue to fish off the pier and exchange fishing theories as Tony continues to catch fish off the shore and lure some unsuspecting onlooker into doing the dirty work. Even Susan got sucked in but was able to get out after just one. Mikhail gave me a bigger sinker and I put on the second best looking lure in my box. At this point I decide it is time to light up my lone cigar and channel the fishing friends of mine, namely Dave, Uncle Karl and, my brother, Ralf. Now I have a winning combination for sure. I cast out several times anxious for my first hit. One cast was reeling in a bit harder than the previous couple hundred but I thought it was only more seaweed. But as I pulled the lure from the water I saw a wonderful sight on the hook… a nice 6” Bullhead. Now, I'm not quite sure what a Bullhead is, but Mikhail assured me that was indeed a Bullhead. Oh Golly, I'm hot now! Unfortunately, I was too excited to stop and get a picture of this trophy and quickly returned it back to the water so I could begin casting again. Susan came over about this time and I informed her of my success and she seemed quite pleased. It was close to 5pm at this point as Mikhail and Tony had to be home. I was now on my own but I think I have enough information to really get serious and get down to business.

I move down the pier and try my luck in different locations before thinking I should move back on shore where everyone else has been fishing all day. Susan accompanies me in my move and offers her suggestions for where I could try next. It was good having Susan there to help as she was instrumental in rescuing my lure which somehow had found its way into the back of a boat across the water. As we are trying one more spot from the pier, a fellow on shore starts pulling in a couple nice size Silvers. We decide to head over by where he is and try there. At this point I am thinking that I am done with the pretty lures and I am going with the local method… snagging. Snagging requires a LOT less talent and a LOT more luck. Since there are so many fish in the water all you have to do to snag them is to put a BIG treble-hook on your line, cast it out and yank it quickly back through the water. Every couple casts you get lucky and your hook gets caught on an unsuspecting fish and Waa-La! You have dinner. Again… seems so simple.

Round-a-bout 8pm, I talk to the little kid fishing not far from me who is all excited about catching his 17^th Silver and says, “They’re running right now!” “Whatever”. Susan and I stand on shore watching fish jumping all around where I am casting. “Over there” she says, “Try down that way”.

At one point I reel in my cast and find a poor little fish, about 4” long, that was unlucky enough to be in the way of my hook as I pulled it back in. I mean this thing wasn’t even big enough to be bait! How can I manage to hook a 4” minnow and not be able to snag a 20” Salmon? Let’s just say we’re lucky that we are not relying on my fishing skills to survive up here. I cast out a couple more times and all of a sudden I got a good one! This thing is fighting and jumping I find myself using all the knowledge I have acquired from hours of fishing with a 6^th grader. I manage to get the monster Silver out of the water and up on to shore and request some assistance from Susan who is actively documenting the whole experience.

I reach down to secure my prize when it looked me in the eye, quickly removed my hook from its body, gave me a that “Sucker” look and flopped itself back into the water. Come to think of it, Mikhail never actually told me what to do if I did manage to catch a fish. But now… with newly adapted strategies in place, I go back to work. It’s getting dark and Susan is ready to change dinner plans to macaroni & cheese, but I am not one to quit after only 8-1/2 hours of casting… nope, not me, I've only just begun. With a new sense of purpose, I cast defiantly out into the bay............................................... Nothing.

Susan decides to head back to Thumper to start heating the water for the macaroni as I continue my efforts.

It was just about dark when my line went tight as I reeled it in from the last cast. My heart pounded as this Silver did its best to eject the hook that was imbedded in its tail. It jumped and thrashed as the crowds on the boardwalk above were cheering me on and hoping they could go home soon. I was able to get this beauty to the shore and then walked straight backwards pulling it onto the bank, up the hill, across the street and to the grassy area where I felt confident it could not make it back to the water on its own. Finally, after 8 hours, 56 minutes and 23 seconds, I have dinner… and if our freezer works, a couple other meals. I took it up to the cleaning station and proceeded to do my best to respectfully fillet it. Susan stepped in at one point and tried her hand at it to see if we could actually get a decent fillet off of this fish or if we really just needed to be happy with the chunky pieces. In the end we decided that we really needed to apologize to the fish.

So was my day on the shores of Valdez. Our salmon was wonderful and we did get three good meals from it. But I just want you all to know that you can quit waiting for that cooler full of salmon to arrive at your doorstep.

Valdez... Into the Mystic.

It was a quiet Sunday morning in Valdez. So quiet I wondered briefly if there had been some crazy event that took all the people and just left this mist shrouded village nestled next to a bay of gorgeous green-blue water. You could tell that there were mountains surrounding us. We drove through a beautiful canyon to get down here and over the water in the distance we could tree covered land disappearing up into the fog.

We went first to the ferry terminal, having devised a plan to perhaps ferry over to the Kenai Peninsula and get a chance to see some of the sea creatures we know are living out there while saving gas and the drive time going back over the road we had just travelled. The office was closed and no one in sight anywhere. Oh well. Cruising slowly through town we headed toward the visitor’s center, looking for signs of life. Arriving at our destination we found the Welcome to Valdez sign on the door had a closed sign in the window next to it. Hmmm… But then, what’s this? An open sign in the shop sharing the breezeway with the visitor’s center! Finally, proof we were not the last humans on earth.

Ice Age Arts turned out to be a wonderful find. It’s a small shop, with lots of windows lighting a collection of remarkably well crafted carvings and lovely ivory and jade jewelry. Brenda greeted us warmly (I think she might have been relieved to see other humans about as well) and explained that all the work in the shop is done by her family-3 generations of them. I guess 4, really, since the grandkids are starting to help paint some of the fun magnets and tree ornaments. They get their materials from all over Alaska, including the ivory which comes from a Native Group who can legally still trade in that material (unearthed on their land, not hunted). A lot of the coolest pieces were made from tusks and fossilized whale bone uncovered in earth being moved during mining operations. We spent a long time just taking in all the amazing art (and wishing we had the $$ to afford it!). They also had an amazing assortment of knives made with bone or antler handles and metal recycled from old saw blades (which have a better grade steel than what you find now). I was teasing Jim that if he actually caught some fish here maybe he could get one of those fine filleting knives. Well, we made Brenda’s day by actually buying a few gifts for our loved ones and headed out to see if any other humans had materialized out of the mist.

The next stop was the Whitney Museum, without question my favorite museum of the many we have enjoyed during this trip so far. Not big or particularly well explained, it nonetheless held some of the most incredible examples of Native Art and Artifacts of anything we have seen so far. Maxine and Jesse Whitney came up from California in 1947 when he was offered work building the Air force base in Fairbanks. Maxine made friends with another woman who was a collector of arrowheads and who eventually opened an early version of a tourist shop carrying a number of items she bought from local people. After a time Maxine came to buy the shop and began making trips out to village sites, meeting the carvers and crafters who recognized her real love of their art and culture. She sold many of the things she collected in the villages of course, but saved what she considered the best or most unusual examples of different items for her private collection. In addition, recognizing a source of income for the community, several villages also dug through their old dump areas and came up with some very old items as well-carvings, clay figures and tools. Really cool stuff! We spent quite a bit of time appreciating all that was there and were so impressed by how aesthetically even the most common tools and household items were made. And the clothes, forget about it! They had the most beautiful and intricate beading and lush fur- I couldn’t even have imagined such work. It made me think it would almost be worth living in such a cold place if I got to wear such remarkable cloths J

Slightly less appealing from the vantage of our times, but still quite impressive, was the collection of pretty much every type of Alaskan animal including two mounted polar bears that were crazy big and the largest moose ever stuffed. It was amazing to stand so close to actual critters and appreciate not only their size, but also their fur and the other adaptations that help them survive in this harsh environment. Mixed in was a truly eclectic collection of early ‘Alaskana’-sleds, rifles and fishing gear, household goods, furniture made with antlers, two huge murals painted on moose hide and many other random, but generally quite interesting items. While no one else came in while we were there, the presence of the girl at the entrance left us feeling that there might actually be more humans somewhere in this town. After soaking in all the Whitney had to offer we went out to find them….

Down to the grocery and bottle shop-where else would one be more likely to see SOMEONE? And indeed finally, folks began appearing. Whew! No more zombie fantasies. After fortifying our supplies we headed down to the docks looking for some fresh fish for our dinner. No luck there, surprisingly enough, but Jim did get a lot of information about the local silver salmon run (in full swing) and decided to try his hand at fishing the next day. We fretted for a while that night about what to do with all the fish he would likely catch (from what we’d heard and what we saw other folks pulling in right from the docks). Well, even if it was a little pricey we decided shipping it home was worth all the happy friends and family who would get to enjoy it when we got back. We’d actually had several offers for freezer space before we left so knew it would be well received. ;-)

On our way to Valdez

Back on the road and heading south for the steamy beaches and the Salmon Rich waters of Valdez (pronounced Val-Deez, so we were told). Jimmy and Sharon said that the drive to Valdez was THE best drive in Alaska. We thought that was quite a statement as we had been on some pretty spectacular roads here in Alaska already. It was a cooler day with the clouds hanging low and the rain drizzling down. We were leaving the lower hills of this part of Alaska and moving into the coastal mountains. The hills were still mostly green here as the temperatures were holding a bit warmer. We have been following Autumn on this trip and have been constantly amazed by the display of colors that each region has to offer. The forests here resemble those in Colorado with a mix of Spruce, Pine and Aspen, though this area has a great number of Birch as well. The undergrowth here is a wonderful mix of cranberry, blueberry, crowberry and current which all create a colorful bed for the trees, not to mention the great snacking! Rock bluffs and walls of varying colors and textures punctuate the greens, yellows, oranges and reds of the foliage. Then, to be sure we are getting the best possible show possible, there are big and small lakes dotting the landscape which reflect the opposite hillside. All this and rivers too. It is an endless series of… “Check THAT out!” and “Look… over There…” and “Are you serious?”

Beyond the display immediately in front of us were the peaks of Wrangell-St. Elias National Park. This is the eastern end of the Alaska Range, north of Cordova and bordering Canada. It boasts 14 of the 20 tallest peaks in North America (including Mexico and Canada) with the greatest collection of peaks over 16,000’ on the continent! It is the largest National Park in the United States… at 13.2 million acres it is bigger than Death Valley, Yellowstone, The Grand Canyon and The Everglades COMBINED! This is an area that we did not get to explore this time. We were headed that way when we got that flat on the McCarthy Road as the park pretty much begins where the McCarthy road ends. I guess there is yet another reason to make a return trip to Alaska. Next time you are cruising around online and can’t figure out what to look at, do a little search on the Wrangell-St. Elias National Park… you won’t be disappointed.

We drive towards Valdez anxious to see this town of so much lore but equally as anxious to explore the space between it and us. Susan reads up on some of the high points coming our way. We duck in to check out a campground then pull over to read a roadside history marker. It’s still doing that misty-drizzle rain thing but we decide to take a little walk along the Teikel River (which just so happens to be conveniently running along the road) and check out the trees that have been washed into piles due to spring snow-melts and floods. Our trekking reveals many treasures as we discuss just how many pounds of rocks can we legally take into Canada and if a 6’ long, 80# burled log can be called “firewood”. We settle on a couple nice specimen stones and head on our way.

We have already seen several Bald Eagles along the road and there is one here just hanging out atop a dead spruce all proud and majestic-like. We pull yet another u-turn and got back for some photos. I have heard about this new development in photography called “auto-focus”. Wonder if it really works…

Our next target stop is Worthington Glacier, which at one point threatened to engulf the highway, but is now retreating like many other glaciers here. It is a very accessible glacier and is a popular tourist stop as well as a playground for locals throughout the winter. In fact, we talked to the visitor center lady who told us that there is a snowmobile 70’ down in one of the crevasses of the glacier. Seems there was a group riding their machines up there last winter and one guy went across a “false bridge” -a crevasse that is covered with a thin layer of snow and it makes it look solid enough to cross. Well, they rescued the guy but left the machine. He is still making payments on it.

We decided to take the extended hike up to the glacier but were warned not to actually climb onto it, walk directly below it or crawl into the ice-cave as it may collapse and effectively make us a permanent part of the glacier. We gave a quick thought of doing all three just because, but then Susan came to her senses. It is an interesting, but very effective, combination of lines of thought here between Jim & Susan. Jim has that “Let’s go to the edge and check it out” thought pattern and Susan has, as she put it one time, “A greater sense of self-preservation.”

We worked our way up to the glacier and once again get all caught up in all the small stones that make up the path. There is this huge expanse of ice and rock in front of and above us but we can’t help but look down at the palm-size stones at our feet. The coolest thing is when we move a stone to pick it up and what we find underneath it is solid ice from the glacier! Beautiful, clear ice with air bubbles throughout… both water and air being trapped thousands of years ago and now on the verge of being released once again. We move around the glacier being careful of our foot placement while we explore and examine it and it’s work over the past millennia. Again, taking pictures just doesn’t capture the magnitude and impressiveness of what we are looking at, but we do try.

We continue our hike around the leading edge of the glacier and come upon the major stream being created by the melting ice. This is where our minds start playing around with possibilities again and off Jim goes to collect a chunk of ice from the stream so we can make an evening beverage with it. The simple thought of that… sipping on a little Pendleton chilled with thousand year old ice as we look out over the mountains and glaciers while we wind down another glorious day in our little retreat called Thumper… is too much to ignore.

There is something special about traveling this time of year. We see pictures of the roads being lined with cars, trucks and rv’s as everyone is trying to get to the same place and get the best camping spot at the best campground.

When we get back into the truck to leave Worthington Glacier parking lot we look around and notice that we are the only ones here. As we pull back onto the road heading towards Valdez, we are the only car in sight going either direction. The whole place just seems to slow down and take a breath and we can almost effortlessly travel down the road.

It is getting dusk and Susan has read of a pull-off at the summit of Thompson Pass not far away. We slowly drive towards the summit counting glaciers and still being amazed by our surroundings. Thompson Pass sits at 2,678’, which by Colorado standards is more like river bottom, but here it is a majestic sight with snow levels not much above and glaciers reaching down to what seems like eye level. Our pull-off is right where the book said it would be and we stop to check it out. There is a dirt road that leads away from the pull-off and out onto a point which falls away on three sides to the valley below. It’s an incredible overlook, even with the low clouds hiding the surrounding mountains. We discuss the logistics of getting out to that point and somehow Jim convinces Susan that he can make it out there… and back… without any worries. We slowly make our way out and get turned around so we are sitting perfectly at our campsite. Susan gets out and finds a nice size rock to put behind the tire… just in case. We get bundled up and head out for a quick walk around this spectacular spot. We are pretty exposed here and the wind is coming right over the pass and heading past us and down the valley towards the ocean. We can’t see water from here but we are close. It will be the first coast we will be on and we are both anxious to be by the water. And if rumors hold true, Valdez will be THE spot to reconnect with the ocean. Neither of us really knows what to expect tomorrow, but we do know that tonight we once again have the BEST campsite anywhere.