I have been accustomed over the years to taking my vacations either in the fall or late winter, to coincide with contests and to avoid other tourists. But there is one place I always wanted to see that is better visited in June or July: Alaska. The largest state of the United States and admitted to the Union in 1959, it has only 600,000 inhabitants and is both the northern-most and western-most state. My girlfriend Nina and I agreed to take two weeks in late June of 1992 to see it.
The planning was initially complicated by the need to overcome a common assumption that the best way to visit Alaska is by cruise ship. Almost everyone I know who has been to Alaska has taken a cruise, out of Seattle or British Columbia. But the cruises are expensive and do not necessarily go where I want, or stay as long (or short) as I would like. They generally do not include many of the exciting side trips that are so important, and they guarantee a weight gain of several pounds, something I wanted to avoid. My first visit to the nearest bookstore yielded two travel guides that listed the features of the various parks, islands, villages and cities I might visit in the state. Also listed were hotels and bed and breakfasts (B&Bs) ranging from expensive to budget; tour operators, with prices for a range of sightseeing options; and ferry schedules, for travel across the Prince William Sound and through the Inside Passage. Most of the operators even had tollfree telephone numbers. I made plans in April for all the flights, B&Bs and motels, ferry trips and car rental, just about as late as one dare organize such a trip and not encounter major no-vacancy problems. Fortunately, I had enough frequent miles on Continental Airlines to qualify for two first class tickets to Anchorage. This reduced the overall cost of the trip enormously.
Within about two weeks we had an itinerary that took us from Anchorage to Fairbanks and Valdez, through Prince William Sound, and on to Juneau and the Inside Passage, including Sitka, Ketchikan, Skagway and Glacier Bay. It was more than any of the cruises seemed to offer, and was less than half the price. The only disadvantage was that we would be on the move most of the trip, sleeping in a different place nearly every night. But we were used to that from other trips, and with the 22 hour days at that time of year, we figured we could fool ourselves into thinking we were getting more out of each day. As it happens, we feel that way even now, after the trip!
We arrived late on a Wednesday night in Anchorage after a long series of flights that took us through Newark, NJ, and Seattle, WA. We picked up our rental car, found our hotel, the Arctic Tern Inn, and prepared for our first full day of touring. We started our first day, of course, by visiting Chuck, KL7PJ, who, with XYL Marge's coaching, offered hints on dealing with bears and restaurant selections along the way, and buoyed my photographic hopes by providing me with new camera batteries, which I had forgotten to check and replace prior to departure. I of course listened to 20 meters but heard nothing except static, apparently a common phenomenon in Alaska during the summer on hf radio. The weather was much more cooperative, sunny and in the mid-70's, as it was for most of the trip. We visited the Alaska Wildlife and Natural History Museum and the Anchorage Museum of History and Art, which were delightful and informative. In the early afternoon, we headed north toward Denali National Park, the home of Mount McKinley, the highest peak in North America, and also the highest peak in the world above surrounding land. (Mt. Everest is higher above sea level but is among other high plateaus and mountains, so Mt. McKinley presents an exceptionally impressive view from a distance.) We stopped at Talkeetna, with its Historical Society Museum and downtown airstrip, but took no sightseeing flights because the cloud cover over Mt. McKinley was too low. We stayed about two hours, visiting the museum and local sights, then proceeded north to the Denali Park area.
We had arranged the optional guided bus trip to Kantishna Lodge, inside Denali, so we stayed that night at the Grizzly Bear Lodge, just outside the Park, and drove to the nearby pickup point early the next morning to join the tour. The public buses that one can take into Denali are much cheaper than a guided tour but do not go all the way to Kantishna, which is privately owned and represents the 'gold' in terms of Denali touring. We were pleased to see moose droppings on the front stoop of our cabin that morning -- we were really in Alaska!
In Denali we were enormously lucky to have crystal clear weather conditions, something apparently relatively rare in that area during summer. This enabled us to see the mountains, especially McKinley, with stark clarity. We really 'experienced' the mountains, glaciers, moraines, rivers and falls; saw bear, caribou, moose, eagle, and mountain sheep. At Kantishna (where one can stay at some $500/night, with no indoor plumbing!), we tried our hands at panning for gold in a mountain stream. Finding a few flakes of gold was a new thrill, though admittedly our take was about enough to fill the space in a letter 'o' on the page you are reading. Surely, I thought, there was a gold vein that was waiting for me to discover. All I needed was a few days at Kantishna, and I could more than pay for the trip with gold nuggets. Unfortunately, our trip had just begun and the bus was leaving soon. Besides, Nina prevailed with more sense, reminding me of the thousands of others who had caught gold-fever and never found anything apart from mosquito bites and, more recently, a hefty hotel bill.
The visit to Denali had taken some 10 hours, but the days were so long that at 6 p.m. it looked and felt like midday at home. Our tour bus retraced its route toward the Denali Park entry gate. During that ride we saw more of the animals we had seen earlier, though this time we saw several bear, and of different colors. One of the other passengers was a native Indian, I think Navajo, and he seemed to spot the various wildlife when it was barely discernible in the distance, long before even the tourguide could spot it with binoculars. Even with binoculars I was often amongst the last to see the latest sighting, perhaps because I have spent too many years focusing on print no more than six inches from my nose. Anyway, we retrieved our rental car and proceeded north to Fairbanks, arriving in about three hours at the Alaska Motor Inn, still early enough to freshen up and then enjoy our first fresh salmon and halibut at a charming restaurant called the Pump House, fashioned from a converted mining pumphouse and now a National Historic Site.
The next morning we began our Fairbanks sightseeing. The city is a real frontier town, with a certain bedraggled look that unmistakenly hints at its character. Our first visit was to an unusual Visitor Information Center on the banks of the Chena River which had exceptional wildlife displays, maps and historical exhibits, and an assortment of videos that offered an array of exciting and informative topics. We did the walking tour, which took us through the downtown area and past a number of intriguing old residences, and spent the afternoon and evening at Alaskaland, a theme park-like area featuring Goldrush Town (29 early Fairbanks cabins and buildings donated by pioneers' descendants), the Palace Saloon (with revues and slide shows), Pioneer Hall (small but fascinating museum of Klondike Gold Rush artifacts), and an evening Salmon Bake, at which I ate my weight in fresh salmon.
Next, we drove to the University of Fairbanks campus, which occupies some 2,250 acres and features fine geological and natural history museums. Also associated with the University is the Large Animal Research Station, which has herds of musk oxen, caribou and reindeer. Staff there have cross-bred reindeer and caribou (producing 'carideer' and 'reinbou'!) in an experiment to emphasize certain physical characteristics of the species. (Reindeer are a domesticated version of caribou, but the two generally do not mate in the wild.) The temperature in Fairbanks that day hit the mid- 80's, quite a surprise (for us) so far north. Our tour of Fairbanks was complete, and we prepared for a long drive south the next morning.
We packed our gear (note the frontier lingo) and started out early for Valdez, passing famous North Pole (which appears from the road to be nothing more than a post office and an array of Christmas decoration shops) and stopping in delightful Delta Junction, where the Richardson and Alaska Highways meet. There was an old telegraph station there that was used during the construction of the highway, among other interesting buildings, and a charming shop that featured an array of reasonably priced natural fur products, including red fox lined gloves and scarves. The sights from the Alaska highway as it proceeds south are no less than incredible, with passes by or over glaciers, snow capped mountains, lakes and waterfalls. As we approached the sea near Valdez we first saw the remains of old Valdez, which was destroyed in the 1964 earthquake and subsequent tidal wave, and then new Valdez itself, surrounded by glorious snow peaked mountains, with its modern buildings, crowded port, and the Alyeska Pipeline Terminal, the outlet for the 800-mile pipeline system carrying oil from Prudhoe Bay in the north. Just a few miles outside of Valdez we traversed Thompson's Pass, with its magnificent falls and scenic overlooks. It was through this pass that many early gold rushers were trapped by snow. The lucky ones were rescued.
We spent about a day and a half in Valdez, the 'Switzerland of Alaska,' staying at the friendly and immaculate L&L B&B. While in Valdez we visited the Solomon Gulch Salmon Hatchery, the Valdez Museum, toured the Alyeska Pipeline Terminal, and -- the highlight of all - took an hour-long helicopter flight to Columbia Glacier, which is just to the west of Valdez and is some 440 square miles in area. This was our first ride in a helicopter and it was incredible, rising up over the bay with the Alyeska Pipeline Terminal below and the mountains looming before us. We glided over the mountain peaks, some 1,500 feet above the bay, and floated down toward the glacier. Hovering over the 200 foot glacier face, touring smoothly by the moon-like surface of the glacier, and landing on the moraine in front of it represent some of the most exciting travel events one can imagine. The blue tint to the ice, compressed over hundreds of years; sea lions reposing on ice flows; striations of earth illustrating the massive movement of ice and rock over the eons; and breathtaking vistas as the helicopter passed over cliffs and among valleys of the glacier made this a unique and memorable experience, well worth the price of some $135 per person. As it happens, we were the sole passengers on this flight, so we were treated to a somewhat more extensive tour than usual. In fact, while we stood next to the glacier from our improvised landing pad on the moraine, we could hear the erie cracking of the glacier ice, a prelude to calving -- the breaking of chunks of ice from the glacier face. For those who have never been in a helicopter, like me, the ride was surprisingly smooth, much like taking an elevator in a modern high rise, and with little noise thanks to the effects of tight fitting, heavy duty headphones. During the flight we conversed with the pilot, directing him towards spots we wanted to see. It was glorious.
After the helicopter flight we visited the salmon hatchery, where we learned that salmon find their way back to their stream of birth after reaching adulthood in the open sea by a combination of geomagnetic orientation and chemical sensing. Each stream has a unique mixture of minerals, which leaves its chemical imprint on the memory of the salmon spawned there. The hatcheries, therefore, are always built on a stream from which salmon have been hatched, either naturally or artificially. |
