A quickie from the other night…
Haines Aurora Timelapse
A quickie from the other night…
Tag: Alaska
The Frozen Chilkat
A Few Shots From This Morning’s Walk Along The Mighty Chilkat River…
Unshakable
This place; the cold and damp mountain air, the crunch of the ice below my feet, the wolf tracks I am following, the not so distant peaks and their adorning glaciers, these forests, and the creatures that live in them all have a hold on me that is unshakable. The weather today is the type that makes any Alaskan winter day a stellar one. At 21 degrees, it is cold, but not too cold, and the clear blue Alaskan sky, and it’s wisp of distant clouds have become a play up for the jagged peaks of the Chilkat Mountains; their glaciers visible in a clean and striking fashion to anyone who may ponder their geographic position, and strikes in my heart and mind, an acuity that they are the creators of all life in this magnificent place. It is the glaciers. They are a gift; a cosmic bank account of life. They create the kind of river’s that Salmon swim to spawn, bringing the Eagles, the Wolve’s and the Bear’s. These are the things that have brought the Human’s here as well, over 12,000 years prior.
It has been some time since I have been immersed in a large, cosmopolitan chaos, save a stint in both Anchorage and Fairbanks earlier in the year. This I do not miss. Walking along the banks of this river, with the mighty peaks and glaciers above, I cannot imagine myself living anywhere else, and cannot imagine why so many others do. I am grateful that few have the desire to live in a place such as this; if it were different with people to want this kind of life, one of natural beauty and simplicity, this place would not be what it is. It would be San Francisco or Seattle, or even Anchorage. These places were once fantastic places of natural splendor as well, long before humanity got it’s grip around it, dammed the rivers, killed off the Grizzlies and Wolve’s, and polluted the landscape with a chaotic sprawl of freeways, factories, and skylines filled with concrete and steel. This, has not yet happened here. Yet. I hope, for the sake of the Bear, Eagle, Wolf, and Human, that it never, ever does.
In the forest it is dark, not errily so, but has a quality that resembles a dream that one cannot quite get a hold of; a reminder of a distant realm in which fantasies are conjured and aspirations are taken ahold. This forest is a prdoct of the those brilliant glaciers and all that precipitation that formed them. At 50 inches a year, Haines gets fairly wet, but is actaully in a dry zone compared to places further south on the coast. Juneau, an hour ferry ride south, for example, gets an average annual rainfall of around 65 inches, and Ketchikan, even further south, recieves yet more. The rain, and at higher elevations, the snow, is what defines this place. It is what has created the Muskeg bogs and the giant ferns and the gigantic Sitka Spruce, Western Hemlock and Cedar, and the massive Cottonwood trees engulfing the landscape here. I gaze out over the frozen river to it’s disatnt shore and visualize a world that allows things to grow and prosper in natural balance, free from the manipulization of corrupt human hands.
I grew up believing and later knowing that all places wild and free were special ones and as I grew older, began to slowly realize that these places were becoming smaller and fewer. The towns that edge some of these places, towns such as Haines, Talkeetna, Coldfoot, or Seward, are in existance still because of an occurance of a conumdrum; a paradox. These towns, and many, many more like them, exist, in part, to extract oil, timber,fish or metal from it’s surroundings, and left unchecked, serve to only desroy. They also exist to present to the “Eco-Tourism” faction to countless persons from such places like San Francisco or Seattle, and places across the globe. To show these people a lancscape that has not been destroyed; yet. Herein lies the paradox, yet there is a further potential contraditction. Will these “eco tourists” return home with a new, greater respect for these wild places in there hearts and let them be? Will they go further than that and even go to bat for said places and fight for them from the destruction of corporate gain? Or even still, will these people look at these places with an eye of opporotunity for exploitation. The latter has been historically more accurate, but I can only hope that by educating the people that come here, these forests and mountains will continue to be the sacred, magical places that they still are, and continue to be the home to more Bears and Wolves than Humans. This is what I wish for…
The Panhandle
That morning, leaving Fairbanks, in the dark, I had to concentrate enormously on the snowy, icy road. Two weeks prior I had an apiphany: I had to leave and go to Haines to make a life for myself and Angela. My job here, caring for and training 30 dogs was a mixed bag for me. I loved the dogs and I loved the forest and Sven’s beautiful cabin, and the quite and the solitude. But it was a seven days a week gig with little pay, and it was not Haines, which is where I wanted to be. Leaving, unfortunately, has damaged my friendship with Sven, a man whom I respect a great deal. So on the road I am, once again. Excitment now fills my heart as I pull away from Fairbanks, headed south, bound for Alaska’s northern panhandle.
It is 22 degrees, snowing lightly and the traffic thin. It is November 1st, 2013. I drive south, through Delta Junction, the scene of an earlier disaster back in June, whene I had lost an envelope containing my life savings; a sum of nearly 4000 dollars. I had a crazy idea or two that I might actually find the missing envelope in one of perhaps three places I could think of: A road side pullout, with views of the omnipotent Alaska Range, where a picture was taken on that day, a creek where a bath had been taken, a campspot in the woods near Tok, where I had spent two nights regrouping. Searching these places for my goods felt both empowering and futile at the same time. I was looking for a needle in the gigantic haystack of Alaska. I pull into Tok and proceed to walk to my usual camp there, located adjecent to the school in the woods near the edge of town. It is a nice spot and it feels somewhat like home to me. However, the envelope was not recovered, and on I went.
On the way from Delta to Tok, one becomes the Alaska Range. Mountains and streams appear, high counrty unfolds. It feels good to be in the highlands once again, and out of the beautiful but routine forest of the Fairbanks area. Being in the area of Tok, I am reminded how much I love this part of Alaska; it truly is one of my favorite places. The white spruce forests here are remarkable, the creeks and streams clear, the rivers deep, and the Alaska Range towering. It is a deeply beautiful and spiritual place to me. Earlier in the summer, I had stopped the bicycle to gaze upon a lone moose fiording the mighty Tanana River, keeping her head high and swimming madly. Southward I continue. Stopping for a walk along the icy banks of the Chisana River, I am gifted the sight of wolf tracks; mother and cub, traveling the river corridor, hunting and living the life they were born to live. The morning is crisp and cold and the Chisana is forming a skin of ice that looks as though could be walked upon but cannot. A breeze picks up a bit and it is getting colder still. I bushwack back to the truck and point it southeast, towards the Yukon border. After crossing, I see the sights of the mightiest Black Spruce Taiga forests I have ever seen. I remeber these from riding this part of the Alaska Highway back in 2011. Tha taiga goes on everlasting and my heart soars at it’s perseverance.
Eventually, I pull of the highway and drive up a small dirt road to a high point with a view. It is exactly what I had hoped for. From this vatage point, I can see all of the major peaks of the Icefield region of the Northern St Elias Range: Mt Luciana 17,147′, Mt Steele 16,644′ Mt Wood 17,000+, and several other unamed 15,000-16,000 footers. This section of mountains, the St Elias, and physically connected to the Wrangel Mountains in Southeast Alaska, is the largest chain of mountains in North America. The Alaska Range, though sporting the Queen Denali, and nearly 600 miles long, is still smaller than the Wrangel/St Elias. These Mountains are the real deal: Big, bad, remote and heavilly glaciated. In fact, the St Elias, the area surrounding Mt Logan in particular, contains the western hemispheres largest non polar glaciers.
I arrive, a bit later, at the hamlet of Haines Junction. With friendly folks, views of the tremendoulsy striking Kluane Range, and one of the best loved bakeries in North America, Haines Junction is a place I always look forward to visiting. However, upon entering town, I see first off that the great little grocey store there, the only one in town, has burned to the ground. Even worse, there is a “Closed” and “For Sale” sign on the bakery. Dissapointed, I buy 10 dollars worth of gas and head for glaciers of the Coast Range and the Chilkoot Valley, home of Haines, Alaska.
I cross the border, back into the USSR, and roll down valley, along the Chilkoot River, with forests of magnificent Sitka Spruce, Western Hemlock, Cedar and Cottonwood. I camp in a pullout, excited to see Haines in the daylight. Morning time, I pass through the Bald Eagle Preserve there, and see more Eagles within my field of view than I had ever seen in all the years of my life previously. 60? 70? 120? Who knows… There are many. It is the last bit of the Chum Salmon run as well, and the Eagles are feeding well upon them. One brute of a fish, pink and black and bruised to hell, swims towards the shore and is nearly 4 feet long. I see no bears however; they have all crawled off to their winter nap and won’t be seen again till spring.
Haines is a great little town of about 2500 people, located along the inlets of the Chilkoot and the Chilkat, at the head of the Lynn Canal, North America’s longest Fiord. There are glaciers visible from town and is surrounded by the incredibly jagged peaks of the Chilkat Range to the east, and the Coast Range of the Glacier Bay region to the west. There are a ton of Brown (Grizzly) Bears here as well. It is truly one of the most beautiful places I have ever been.
The first week of being in Haines was rough on me, however. Cold nights, crammed into the back of my truck, looking for a job and a place to live, and not knowing anyone in town, was challenging to say the least. Self doubt began to creep into my heart. Had I made the right choice to leave Fairbanks and come to Haines? Should I just go back to Utah, which I had left more than 30 months ago? Should I just stick it out? A conversation with Angela on the telephone cheered me up and convinced me that I had made the correct decision. After a week or so, I had scored a free slide in camper for the truck, and a full time building job with some folks whom I enjoy being around. Each night I camp in a different, beautiful spot along the coastal waters of the inlets of the Lynn Canal, surrounded by the most beatuful mountains one can imagine, and dream of a long life here.
Chitina
Alaska is renowned for many things; big mountains, big rivers, and big Salmon to name a few. In fact Alaska has many, many of each. The Copper River is one such crick, born of the glacier and thrust knowingly towards a great and mighty sea to the south. It’s waters fast, deep, silty and cold; all the hallmarks of a great and fearsome Alaskan River. Being the tenth largest river in the United States, it is also home to one of the greatest Salmon runs in the world, and in a place festering with mighty river’s running full of the hardest working fish in North America, that’s saying something. July and early August are the time of Red Salmon or Sockeye as it is known; to me, the very tastiest of all Salmon’s. Theses beautiful fish congregate in large numbers at the mouth of the Copper, near Cordova, at the Gulf of Alaska. Over the course of a few short weeks, they swim, upriver, in search of their ancestral spawning grounds, to the place of their birth, to continue the cycle of life. Along the way, people have been harvesting these fantastic creatures for sustenance for thousands of years.
2 o’clock in the afternoon, Sven, Billy, and I pile into Sven’s truck and head south for the 6 hour drive from Fairbanks to Chitina, a tiny hundred year old fishing and mining community, born from the days of the mighty Kennicott. Chitina is a beautiful place indeed; nestled in a deep valley, surrounded by high forested and craggy walls, giant glaciated peaks of the Wrangell Mountains, festooned with wildlife, and situated at the confluence of the Copper and Chitina Rivers’. On the drive down, we stop at a pullout with mind numbing Alaska scenery, an eyeful of the central and eastern Alaska Range and it’s plentiful glaciers. It had been a couple of years since I had been to this place and it was as magnificent as I had remembered. We arrive in Chitina later, and meet up with Sven’s friends Cynthia and Diane. We will be crashing at Cynthia’s cabin and they will be joining us tomorrow, at the river. The last time friends were here, a couple of weeks past, they had caught their limit between the 4 of them: 70 fish! That’s a lot of cleaning and filleting, but in the end, it is a freezer full of the best eating there is.
The trail in from the road to the good dip netting spots are 5 or 6 miles down river, however, Sven’s four wheeler ATV makes fairly quick work of ferrying 4 people, dip nets, gear and ice chests to the chosen location. By 8 o’clock, we have our ropes tied to the shore trees and to ourselves, and the nets are in the water. The river was intimidating at first; it is the sort that, if one fell in, you might be a goner. It is super fast and cold, with hidden logs, rocks, and all sorts of strainers, waiting to snag anything that happens to be in the water big enough to catch. It is also full of glacial silt; it’s appearance is that of fast, cold mud. It’s visibility is zero. But it is full of Salmon; I hope. After a couple of hours, Diane has managed to net 2 fish, a small one and a good sized one, and for the next 5 hours we were only able to land 3 more, for a total of 5 fish. Not the fish bonanza we had hoped for, as the cost of the trip necessitates a good yield. The river was definitely higher than normal; this probably attributed to the low numbers. One never knows when it comes to the Salmon running. One day they could be so strong that, could you see through the murky water, one might be able to walk across the river, supported only on the backs of the working Salmon. On other days, scarcely a few seem to be near by. Perhaps when the water is so high, they hide out in the eddy’s and holes, saving energy, awaiting the lower water and easier swimming, upriver and towards their goal.
By mid afternoon, we, with our 5 fish, decide to head out as it is a long drive home. As Sven is ferrying loads back to the truck, I clean the fish, pour the last bits of diesel fuel into the truck, and clean up. While the fishing was of limited success, the day was a fulfilling one, hanging with friends, taking in the best Alaska has to offer, and generally enjoying ourselves all around. Additionally, 3 of the 5 of us had seen bears today. Sven and Diane had seen a big Blackie earlier, and in the afternoon, Billy had come across a Griz crossing the trail and headed to the river, no doubt attracted the pungent odor of the Salmon. Afterwards, we say goodbye to our Chitina friends and hit Uncle Tom’s Tavern in Chitina, for a celebration beer; and afterwards, a long and tiring drive to Fairbanks, but with smiles on our faces.
Synopsis
In the event of the unexpected, unexpected events will follow. Like a chain reaction; an ability to become flexible and malleable at any turn or ripple in the fabric of what we perceive to be absolute, is what is in order. That is why I am in Fairbanks. I have landed here. After the unfortunate event of losing nearly all of my expedition funds, I felt like giving up; consorting to failure, and returning “home”. I guess by “home”, I mean where my truck is parked in Bellingham, filled with my tools to make money with, and the remainder of my material life. At the convincing of Angela and my Mother, plus a bit of financial support, I continued on. And on I will continue. After pedaling through the Brooks Range and witnessing the Arctic, I have been recharged, and my thirst for wilderness and travel greater than ever before. To simply sit in these places, where quiet reigns supreme, the main thoughts in my head are ones of wonder and fulfillment. Yes, part of me still wishes for the previous alternative of continuing on some short journey’s northward, up to Circle, Alaska and an exploration of the historic Circle-Fairbanks Trail. Or perhaps an even more remote foray into the bowels of the Pinnel Mountain Trail. I would like to experience these places eventually, but alas, it is not to be on this go… I am in Fairbanks, working, making friends and connections, relaxing my mind, and getting ready for the next leg of this journey; the journey of my life. Angela will be here on the 26th and we will continue south towards the Denali area, into the high country that I love so much. To the land of the Dall Sheep, the Caribou, the Grizzly Bear. Places where there is only tundra and peaks, streams and lakes, animals and sky; away from the traffic and the commotion of Fairbanks; away from Fred Meyer’s, away from the public library and away from the chainsaw and the hammer. Back to the roots of my soul and beyond shadows of the mountain tops.
The weather in Fairbanks recently, has been of record heat; Alaska’s interior is notorious for it’s hot, dry spells in Summer, but in recent past, it has been downright cruel, by Alaska standards. 95 degree heat, no wind, no rain, and in the fashion of pouring salt into a sore wound, terrible forest fires have been raging on, filling the entire Tanana Valley with a thick layer of smoke that would make even a hardened Los Angeles veteran choke. It sure put a hurt on me. Then, like magic, the clouds rolled in, and, in a rainstorm unlike I have normally seen in the north, unleashed a fury of water that seemed violently thick, yet refreshing to the earth, and the fires. Now, the weather is cool, slightly damp, and smoke free. It is like summer took a drastic turn into another season altogether. While summer is not quite over yet, it is beginning to feel a bit like fall already. The days are getting shorter as well; last night at 1:00 am, it was a bit to much of a strain on my eyes to read “Mountain of My Fear”, so I closed the book, and my eyes, and dreamed of mountains instead.
Brooks Range Teaser
Well, I’ve returned from pedaling from Fairbanks to Deadhorse, across the Brooks Range and into the Alaskan arctic; that be told, I’m tired and possibly starting a job for a couple of weeks to earn cash for the continuing journey. I do not have time to do a full update at the moment, but soon come, so check back! Here’s a couple of teaser shots from the Brooks Range…
Alaska 2011
The following is an excerpt from 2011.
While not really a new post, per say, it is a recollection of the past in order to glimpse the future, and a chance to do some creative writing in order to get psyched for Alaska in May 2013!
The storm finally passed over this part of Idaho, and my knee swelling subsided, so it is time to hit the highway again. After crossing the Snake river, I entered the Snake River plains and north into Idaho’s fantastic mountains. Spent the Night on the Salmon River near Challis and really started to enjoy myself. For the next 2 days I pedaled and photographed my way up the Salmon River corridor, stopping at a fantastic hot spring that David Schipper told me about. This place was a one of a kind… a 3 mile hike up a beautiful and steep mountain canyon bring one to a literal waterfall of hot water, with pools of various temps below. Totally natural and with unforgettable views.
Onward…. up the Salmon to it’s head waters and over Lost Trail pass and into Montana. More rainy pedaling and a stop in Missoula to buy a new H2O filter put me on the map of the north country. I stayed in Whitefish for a couple of days to relax, and then bolted for the border.
British Columbia! B.C. is beautiful! I pedaled north, following the Kootenay River most of the time, and eventually entering Kootenay Nat’l Park at Radium Hot Springs. After climbing up the 10 percent pass into the Rockies proper, I stopped at a small lake at it’s summit called “Olive Lake” and cleaned up a bit. It started to rain. Starting down the other side, I spy a small Black Bear cub, dead, on the road. I stopped, and shooed the Crows off of it, and pulled it out of the road and off to the side. It was no bigger than a large dog. It’s fur was incredibly soft and claws very long. I spoke to it for a bit and bid it farewell to the afterworld and continued on. A quarter mile further, I look down and lock eyes with a Grizzly! I stop and speak softly to it and take some photos. Eventually, it wanders into the forest. Awesome! Then, not 200 yards further, I see a Black bear that was WAY big! She spots me and instantly bolts… Talking to a park employee later, I am told that the Black’s name is “Olive” named after the lake nearby where she is known to habitate. Apparently, she births 2 cubs every 2 years. The cub I found was hers… very sad
The next day, still raining, I finally cross Vermillion Pass and the continental Divide, and reminice of when my climbing partner at the time, Ron Alexander, RIP, pulled in here on our first trip of several, and climbed the N. Face of Mt Stanley. This place, these mountains, are the stuff of my dreams. Ron and I, and other partners went on to do the N. Faces of Robson, Athabasca, The W. Shoulder Direct on Mt Andromeda, and quite a few others. It has been nearly 20 years since I was last here. I’m feeling pretty blown away…. I am now at Lake Louise for the third day and now the rain has turned to snow. according to the weather forecast, it should improve tomorrow… then I can get to the Columbia Icefield where the REAL action is!
Well, my last update was in Lake Louise, Alberta, and now I am in Whitehorse, Yukon Territories. It has been one helluva ride, lemme tell ya…
I finally escaped Lake Louise and in the rain headed for Bow Pass and the Icefields. Snow “flakes” the size of golf balls greeted me on the descent towards the Sunwapta River. Once over Sunwapta Pass, I was greeted with the familiar views of the Columbia Icefield, Mt Athabasca, Mt Andromeda, Slipstream, and the Grand Central Couloir on Mt Kitchener. When I spied the Grand Central, I could see it still, after all these years, giving me the finger, from a botched attempt at climbing it over two decades ago…
Cruise up to Jasper and re-supply and on to the B.C. interior, stopping at the magnificent Crown Jewel of Mt Robson to shoot a time-lapse or two.. Robson rises over 10,000 feet from its base, and pretty much controls the weather patterns over the Northern Rockies.
Down through the beautiful Robson Valley, I am immersed into a world of forest… Birch, Alder, Poplar, Fir, and Spruce. There is even temperate rain forest here with Hemlock and Cedar. The rivers are big, glorious, and plentiful.
I enter Prince George and am thrown into the grips if everything I hate about cities, but soon I am out and on the Central B.C. Plateau. Mostly logging and farmland, it is not my favorite place on the trip, as there is very little camping and “open country”.
I rest a day in Burns Lake and head for Smithers, B.C.
Smithers is a great little mountain town that blows doors on ANY Colorado or California mountain town. I would live here if I could… A couple of days later and I am on the fabled Cassiar Highway, one of two routes to the Yukon and Alaska. It is the more westerly, and remote of the two. The other option is the lower Alaska Highway. With only one re-supply near the end, I load up with 9 days of food and commit myself.
The first night, I pulled into an open area near the road and spot a dead grizzly, shot I presume. I am too tired and wet from a full day of rain to look elsewhere to camp, so I camp. I become intensely paranoid of the bears and sleep with one eye open.
Over the next 8 days, I witness some of the most remote and incredible scenery and wildlife one can see from a paved road. Big, glaciated, peaks, bears, moose, eagles, rivers, lakes. It bring tears to my eyes the natural balance I see before me, and makes think hard on where the human race is headed and why. There is much craziness in the world, but not here. Everything is as it should be.
Eventually, I come to the Alaska Highway, and pouring rain for many days. Riding a bicycle this far, this many miles, this many hours, in this much rain does funny things to ones mind. It MAKES you take a really hard look at yourself and the world around you. It is tough. I’m enlightened as I pass through Tesli, Yukon, and talk with some of the first nation people. They tell me of life in the North Country – of hunting and fishing, and of living through the long winters.
Finally I roll into Whitehorse! The sky is blue over the mighty Yukon River.. it is the first nice day in a week and I am glad to be ALIVE! Well, I am now in and have been for a while, hangin’ in the AK… I love it here. I think my last update was in Whitehorse, so a lot has happened since…
After gearing up, so to speak, in Whitehorse, I pedaled up one of Alaska Highway’s worst sections.. frost heave has tore up the road surface so bad that it is not even a close relative of pavement anymore; furthermore, RV’s SUV’s, and Semi’s all seem to want to SPEED UP, rather than slow down, spraying me with gravel. Luckily this only lasts for 10 or 15 miles, and the magic road re appears.
About a day out of Whitehorse is where things began to change dramatically for me, in terms of country side, and therefore, pedaling bliss. This is where I begin to see signs of granite and big mountains appear, bearing the gift of glaciers.
I arrive in Haines Junction, what a nice little town with a fabulous bakery to boot. Up against Haines Junction, is the Kluane Range, a “front range”, or interior range of the Mighty St. Elias, the second largest chain of mountains on the continent and sporting the western hemispheres largest glaciers. It is remote and magnificent. For the next several days, I pedal along side the St Elias, and it’s largest glacial fed lake, Kluane Lake. This place is very remote feeling, and it’s people are mostly of 1st nation Natives, of whom’s company I came to immensely enjoy.
After leaving the Kluane area, the Alaska Border became an obsession, as this part of the Yukon began feeling stagnant, and some of the worst people I met
on the trip seemed to inhabit this area.. I am not talking about Native People’s, mind you… Finally arriving in Alaska, It begins to rain a rain that only Alaska is famous for, and for the next 8 days it did so. I spent a couple of days in Tok, relaxing and checking things out. I stocked up on food, since I was now in “cheap” Alaska, compared to northern B.C. and the Yukon. In fact, financially, Canada just about bled me dry…
Up to Delta Junction and down the Richardson Highway, I ride and push my bike into the backcountry to an area known as Rainbow Ridge; 8 miles back and I find myself standing above the awesome, Cantwell Glacier. I stay here for 3 days, and manage to get back even further, to yet another glacier and bag a 3rd class granite “spire”. I am enthralled at the beauty and descend in a storm that chases me back to my tent and a victory cocktail!
The journey continues, and I am now at the meat and potatoes of this trip: The Denali Highway. The Denali Highway is 135 miles long and 110 of that are gravel and traverses the entire central Alaska Range, covering some of the most spectacular scenery Alaska has to offer. I take 4 and a half days to cover this ground, and spend an entire day and a half camped atop a ridge overlooking the Susitna River Headwaters, the Susitna Glacier, the West Fork Glacier, Mt Hess, and finally, the AWESOME Mt Deborah. Mt Deborah is a peak that I want to climb incredibly bad. It is a haunting sight to my eyes. It is a peak that David Roberts also obsessed over, both in climbing it and writing about in the sixties.
I am camped on this ridge primarily for one reason; to capture a striking Timelapse sequence of the mountain in question. Unfortunately, as is usual in the Alaska Range, the view is obscured by clouds. I shoot what photos I can and by 11:30 pm I am asleep. The rain stops, and at 1:30 am, the clouds begin to part and the weary Alaskan Sun begins to “set”. As this sequence unfolds, Mt Deborah and Mt Hess appear, Alaskan giants, Himalayan in size, and engulfed in a red, sunset hue, Alaskan Style. I cry hard…
This is what I came here for. The feeling of seeing these unbelievable peaks is overwhelming to me and I cannot fully express what it is exactly what they mean to me.
I finally get to the end of The Denali highway, and , I am in luck because Denali herself appears! The roof of North America, and one of the largest peaks
on Earth, I only see her summit poking from the clouds. That would be the only time I would see Denali on this trip…
The next few days are a blur to me, of rain and monotony as approach the populated southern coast of Alaska and leave behind the Alaska Range that means so very much to me… So, I guess for the time being, I now reside in Eagle River AK. It is about 12 miles north of Anchorage. I have a small job here, working on decrepit bicycles and splitting firewood for the campground guests.. at 9 bucks an hour , I’m not going to get out of Alaska and down the west coast as planned; perhaps something will arise unexpectedly…
I went for a long walk by the river and through the forest yesterday, looking for inspiration and beauty. I was looking down, examining some strange markings on the ground, when I looked up, a mighty cow Moose was standing no more than 10 feet away, slurpping up forest foliage. I had heard of her, yesterday, from some campers, and here she is… one leg, her front right is badly injured. Broken from the looks of it. The strange ground markings I had spotted, were, in fact, the hook of said leg, dragging on the forest floor. I spoke to her softly for a bit and wished her healing energy. Then I said goodbye… If her leg does not heal, she will not make it through the rapidly approaching winter; she will be wolf food. When I returned to my camp, the front mosquito netting on my tent door was gashed open from a familliar black bear and her cubs I had soon so many times in the last few days. Today my goal is to repair this as the skeeters are pouring in…
Well, all said and done, this adventure was extraordinary, beautiful, difficult, and not really long enough, but the reality for me at this point is that I am out of financial means, and my family is beckoning my help as a carpenter to get some much needed work completed. My sister and her fiance bought a house and it needs much work… My Grandmother passed away last fall and her house is badly in need of repair in order to sell, and last but not least, my Mom’s house is in need of some attention as well… once these jobs are completed, I can begin figuring out how to make money for my next trip into the Great North Country…
My last update was some time back… I guess that my writing ability has vanished along with my trip. I now sit at the computer, away from the wilds I have kept so close to my heart, and now must “force” the creative juices flowing, onward, to my keyboard. I sat in Whittier, Alaska, for 5 straight days, in the rain, waiting; waiting for the ferry ( the AMHS “Kenicott”) to take me down to the “panhandle” of Alaska, and onward to the Inside Passage of British Columbia, and to land at my destination at Bellingham, WA. I spent a good portion of that time either sitting in the bar or sitting in my tent, interspersed with hiking in the rain and taking photographs when it was dry enough. At one point, the damn rain stopped for an hour, just long enough to take a quick hike up to Portage Pass and check out the mind boggling scenery there… views looking down on the fabulous Portage Glacier, views out onto the Passage Canal, and alpine tundra galore, all combined with some of the best light of the trip, made for some stunning photos.
Finally boarded the Kenicott and off we go for the next 5 days to Yakatat, Juneau, Ketchikan, and the surrealistic west coast of B.C. During this time I saw Humpback Whales, Orcas, Porpoises, Salmon, and more seabirds than I’d ever seen before in my life… it was an unforgettable trip.
After arriving in Bellingham, I was thrown into a world that was very foreign to me… People, traffic, stop lights, dangerous roads, country roads that seemed to lead nowhere, and a grim camping situation that would last the rest of the trip. Mind you now that I consistently “wild camped”(a term that a lot of bicycle tourists seem to us; I however, do not, because to me, camping is camping, and to me, camping means FREE camping). This “wild camping” thing was challenging down here in the states with all of the aforementioned things in the way… but , having the mind of an outlaw, I managed. For two and a half weeks I pedaled down and around Washington’s Hood Canal, the coasts of Oregon and California, enjoying the scenery and smelling the ocean air, but all the while, in the back of my mind, I was the longing to return to the North Country.
PROLOGUE:
About 3 days ride from Sacramento, up in the steep mountains of Northern California’s coast range, I came across a section of road so bad, I figured it would be suicide to attempt it on a bicycle. I am talking about Hwy 36 that connects Eureka on the coast to Red Bluff in the northern central valley. I spent two half days negotiating this spectacular road, and on the 2nd morning I got up and had every intention of finishing my ride, when I thought I might die when a log truck nearly creamed me. This road has 4 MAJOR summits, 12% grades. NO shoulder, with Redwoods growing right to the pavements edge, about a lane wide and HEAVY log truck traffic. I decided to put my thumb out and after a couple of short lifts, I ran into a couple from Roseville CA (basically, Sacramento) who offered me a ride ALL THE WAY to Sac… I took it.
Now I am living in the city, up to my old tricks as a carpenter and trying to get involved in my other passion of film making and post production activities. This new concept is very alien to me, yet it is good to be around my family once again. I have not forgotten the North Country, in fact am downright foaming at the mouth at the thought of returning there in the spring…
I am reading a book entitled: “THE LAST FRONTIERSMAN”, which is about a man named Heimo and his family that live year ’round in the remote N.E. corner of the Alaskan Arctic… it is enough to keep me from forgetting.
Just Rolling By 
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