Northern Trails And Tales

    There’s a race of men that don’t fit in,

    A race that can’t sit still.

    So they break the hearts of kith  and kin

    And they roam the world at will.

                           -Robert Service

 

     There’s an old bromide to the effect that “an ass that goes traveling doen’t come back a horse.”  Well, maybe.  Truth is, as a friend of mine says, “Wherever you go, there you are.” 

     Anyway, here’s an invitation to come with us on our journey to the Last Frontier.  You’ll have a web-side seat as we wander through country so beautiful it tightens the sphincter and dazzles even your bloodshot eyes.  You’ll experience a ten car pile-up in your mind as we navigate fifty-something feet of truck and trailer, rookies that we are, windshield burn dulling our already senile minds.  Listen as our so-called sense of humor digs us deeper than we’d like with the locals we encounter.  Hang with us as we stumble through some backcountry trails with bears and bison in pursuit and get skunked on some of the continent’s finest fishing waters.  Watch as tourist traps separate us from badly needed diesel fuel funds.

 

Where We’re Headed

     Let me tell you a bit about where we’re going — or, at least, where we think we’re going.  But first, you have to understand that it’s been brought to our attention that enormous sums of money have been wagered at a certain diner in Portland to the effect we’ll never even get out of town.  With this in mind, we encourage you to stay tuned for our first posting from Syracuse Tuesday night –hopefully, technology permitting, etc.

     From Syracuse it’s off to Ottawa and then westward ho!  Just above the Great Lakes across Winnipeg and Saskatchewan and into Alberta for the long trek north after catching the Alaskan Highway at Dawson Creek.  Hitchhike along through Ft. Nelson, WatsonLake, Whitehorse and, finally, Dawson City before entering Alaska at Chicken and Eagle (pop. 37).  By now, we’ll have traveled about 5,000 miles and poured receipts from nearly 500 gallons of diesel fuel into the coffers of needy oil companies.

     For the next ten weeks or so after arriving, we’ll travel just about every foot of every connected highway in Alaska, beginning in Fairbanks and ending in Skagway.  There will be stops just about anywhere and everywhere and a side trip on the Alaskan Marine Ferry for a six day sojourn on Kodiak Island.

     Then, in early September, we’ll start home with visits to Glacier and Yellowstone National Parks along the way.  We should be back in Connecticut in late September to catch the opening acts of the annual leaf show.

 

What We’re Bringing

     Okay, Okay, about “The Men Who Don’t Fit In.”  Even though most of you know us as a couple of pretty parochial homeboys, that isn’t a mistake. (Don’t worry about mistakes.  There will be plenty of them –mostly to keep you folks who are always looking for them happy!)  Anyway, it’s not the men who don’t fit in, it’s everything we’re bringing with us.

     We’re not exactly roughing it.  The trailer comes equipped with heat/AC/micrwave/flat screen TV/refrigerator/stove and oven/luxurious broadloom carpet — and seemingly enough storage for ten people. But….

     We’re loading, in no particular order, backpacks and hiking boots, two kyaks and an array of peripherals, a gas barbecue, six lawn chairs, a screened dining tent, tools, a mountain bike, two laptops and a printer, seven fly rods, eight spinning rods, one conventional outfit, waders, boots and walking staffs along with nearly 300 recently custom tied flies, a multitude of cameras (which we may figure out how to operate), a MASH level first aid kit, a smoker for the salmon we snag and don’t release.  We’ve loaded up on DEET and rain gear — but if there’s any bear spray aboard, Dave ain’t saying.

     This hasn’t been like packing for a trip.  It’s more like moving — from two houses to a trailer, while acquiring all sorts of new stuff.

 

Communication

     We’ll try to post a blog three or four days a week using modems, WiFi or whatever technology we can hunt up.  Occasionally, we’ll be in dead spots outside civilization and peace will prevail for a few days.  But you can feel free to make comments on the blog any time the spirit moves you. The web address for the blog is alaska.andstuff.com (don’t forget the dot after alaska)

 

     To those of you who have been so kind as to discuss with us bear encounters, trailer wrecks, missing persons, fishing fiascos, capsized kayaks, busted headlights and windshields, bugs the size of golf balls or so small you no-see-um, torrential and continuing rain, accidents, illnesses, and hospitalizations, along with earthquakes, tsunamis, avalanches and erupting volcanos, our profound and fervent thanks.  You have prepared us for any eventuality.

     C’mon, hop aboard…..

 

I’m writing this e-mail in Petawawa, Ontario at Pine Ridge Riverside Campground on the mighty Ottawa River. It’s a nice place, but there’s no internet connection. Same story last night when we stayed at Brennen’s Campground on the shore of Lake Ontario about a mile from the Golden Fish Restaurant in Pulaski, N.Y.—- familiar I am sure to the many salmon snaggers on the blog/e-mail list. Tomorrow (Thursday) I hope to stop along the highway somewhere and send this. Anyway, yesterday brought no surprises, except I guess for rookies. For instance, the toll for the trailer on the New York Thruway was $26.00. And the mileage for this rig is running a little under 10 MPG when we had hoped for 12 or even a bit more. Please send donations!…. The weather was hot, hot, hot with a high of 96 degrees, and still in the upper 80’s in the evening. The good news is that the air conditioner works, and we were only 100 feet from the water so things did cool down….. Today, we had our first adventure. Going thru Customs, we were told to “go around the bend and pull over by the orange cones.” (For those of you already laughing over the Ft.Lauderdale airport incident, this was Dave’s hearing, not mine.) There was a bend in the road up about 200 yards, but no cones. We were now headed across the St Lawrence with no place to turn around. Very briefly, as we turned around at the first spot possible, we were flagged down by a cop and had to go back across the bridge to Customs where we were greeted like Osama Bin Laden. The Customs guys were fairly obnoxious. This “bend” was to make a virtual 90 degree turn across three or four open lanes of traffic and into a parking lot full of trucks. The cones were approximately 200 yards back in the lot. Anyway, this cost us about two hours of time as they checked the trailer for radioactive material, ran our ID’s thru Interpol or whatever, threatened to confiscate the trailer, and generally acted like State of Connecticut bureaucrats. Just a minor communication problem…. The rest of the day was uneventful and the Canadians, excepting Customs, are unfailingly friendly and helpful. ….. There is something of a problem finding campgrounds in the area and this problem is going to continue for the next few days…. So far, so good. Will be in touch again soon if we’re not deported…. Take care….

We covered a lot of ground today leaving Petawawa a little after 9:00 AM and traveling roughly along the Ottawa River to North Bay and Lake Nipissing and on into Sudbury before making a decision to push ahead since it was only about 2:00 PM. We are now sitting in a campground on the banks of the Serpent River where it empties into Lake Huron….. We spent the day looking for places to link up with the internet but were totally unsuccessful. The campground does have a modem, so tomorrow I hope to send two e-mails. I’m avoiding the blog, afraid I’ll mess things up and all of you will get nothing…… The days are developing a routine of sorts. We get up around 6:00, have coffee and breakfast, try to catch the Sox score (though only the first campground had cable TV), and then pack and hook-up the trailer. By the time we get on the road, it’s generally after 9:00. We spend a lot of time at truck stops buying diesel. We spend a lot of time viewing scenery you wouldn’t walk ten feet to see. But then there are some wonderful things to see and it makes it worthwhile, though by mid afternoon we’re ready to call it a day. The trailer isn’t all that difficult to handle and after a while you truly do forget it’s there— which probably ain’t such a good thing, either. I mean we’re still rookies and have to keep that in mind. We then find a campground, set up the trailer, and start supper… We meet a few folks who have no homes but their trailer and who simply follow their wanderlust. At every campground so far we’ve met people who are staying for the summer. As you can imagine, most, but not all, are retired. Some don’t approve of George Bush. I don’t expect that we’ll meet many who do…. Tomorrow morning, it’s on to Sault Ste. Marie. It’s a short jaunt of just over 100 miles so we get a break from driving and maybe a chance to do something touristry….. Although we were followed about a quarter mile by on Ontario patrolman, there is no reason to think we’re being tailed. I suspect we’ll make Alaska after all….

On the road to Mandalay

Where the flying fishes play

And the sun comes up like thunder

Out of China ‘cross the bay….

Yeah, a bit of not-so-free association, but we are on the way tomorrow to Thunder Bay where, I just found out, a private trout pond awaits.  It’ll be my first chance to fish on the trip, assuming we put the eight or nine hours of required driving behind us and I’m still capable of holding a flyrod.  This morning at the campground the office wall was filled with pictures of bass, walleye, and a bunch of muskies over 40 pounds.  It got me to thinking maybe I should fish a while but duty ( Northward Ho!) beckoned…..  So far, we’ve covered just over 1000 miles.  The next two days will see us cover almost that much again.  It’s a region infested with moose and deer so the travel is best done in daylight, and if the opportunity presents itself, you choose the collision with the deer— if you know where I’m steering.  The Thunder Bay area is fairly remote and it will be the first day that I’ll spend in places I’m totally unfamiliar with.  Am looking forward to it….  Bits of miscellaneous….  The couple to the north of us, driving a land yacht of such magnificence that it makes all else on the campground appear shabby, are attempting to visit every major league ball park this season.  So far they’ve been to eleven.  The folks to the south of us are from Ontario and bought their trailer in February.They have already put 15,000 KM on it!  Next week they park the trailer for a while and fly to Italy for a “vacation.”…..  We had considered staying here in Sault Ste, Marie tomorrow to go on the Agawa Canyon Train Tour, an eight hour trip through Canadian Shield Wilderness, but we’ve found out that the train only runs two days a week through mid-June— and one of those days ain’t Saturday.  This was a trip Dave was really looking forward to so he was devestated.  He had to settle for a trip to the Spruce Haven Petting Zoo and he’d like me to let everyone know that his favorites were the pot bellied pigs, the miniature horses asses, and the yak.  He couldn’t stay too long because his generous nature led him to quickly spend a fortune (Canadian) on animal pellets…..  Till tomorrow…..

On Saturday, we thru hauled 450 miles from Sault Ste. Marie to Thunder Bay, a good part of the way in sight of Lake Superior, and what a sight much of it is! The eastern shore is mountainous and I thought we’d reached the Rockies already, but the overlooks gave you views of gorgeous rocky bays and the water was the purest blue thanks to a cloudless sky. Traffic was light for the first two thirds of the trip, but trucks and RV’s constituted about 90% of vehicles. The last third of the trip was characterized by construction and some small delays. Altogether it took us about eight and a half hours. But I was excited to arrive at the campground as the owners had promised to site our trailer right on the trout pond. And their word was good. We sit about fifty feet from the water. So, as so on as we had the trailer set up, I broke out the five weight and tried a couple dry flies. Nothing. Then, I tried a couple streamers. Nothing. I resisted trying nymphs. So here I was skunked on my first outing— and I can hear the chuckles all the way up here. Laugh a little harder, folks, cause, earlier in the day, a kid supposedly hauled a five pound rainbow out of Lucky Pond! But this morning I was up early and managed to get rid of the horse collar. I caught four rainbows, all on streamers, the largest approximately four pounds. One of the others wasn’t too much smaller. Of course, this is a private catch and release pond and the trout have been in there for a while and, supposedly, some are larger than the one the kid got. This evening, I’ll try again…. We’re not traveling today because Dave has located another petting zoo. Oops…. Actually, since we left Connecticut, we’ve had no power in any of the trailer’s electrical outlets, excepting the GFI’s.

It’s probably a relatively simple thing, but I’ve run through the obvious without solving the problem This is an inconvenience and Dave hopes to find a dealer tomorrow who will fix it. This may mean we lose a good part of tomorrow, too, but we have some layover days built in…. Earlier this morning after fishing, I was talking to a guy from Manitoba who told me that last weekend a group from Nova Scotia on their way to Alaska was at the campground. They decided not to go any further because of the price of fuel. Instead, they we just going to spend the summer in central Canada and spend their money on other things!….. One of the remarkable things is how many people travel with dogs. Even more remarkable is that many travel with two dogs. The object has to be either companionship or having an excuse to take a walk…..This campground has wi-fi but you have to been in the main office to be able to connect up.

Unfortunately, we’re a long way from the office. But I’ll get down there sometime this afternoon and get this posted. I know it’s sounding a little like a trucker’s log, but maybe later today, after nailing a seven or eight pounder, I’ll have time to tell some stories…. Till then….

[and here are some photos Dave sent while my father was ‘too busy fishing’. Click on any picture for a larger version. Note the lack of any fish in these pictures…
-dan]

We’re looking over our shoulders now, folks! After the customs officers warned us that “one little thing” could get us thrown out of Canada, it was sure to happen!….. Yesterday we started the day at Woody’s RV Service in Thunder Bay with an 8:30 AM appointment. Sure enough, in less than an hour they found the electrical problem plaguing all our outlets (one faulty outlet screwing up the ground) and had us on our way. We decided not to try to make Winnipeg, our intended destination, due to our late start. (This drive, by the way, was to be the longest of the trip up.) Anyway, about 3:00 PM we decided to stay at the Anicinabe Campground in Kenora—another gorgeous town overlooking a bay. After we pulled into the parking lot, I decided to move the trailer off to one side and out of the way, forgetting about the concrete wall that was on the side of the driveway. The result was —- you got it —- a mess! The trailer hit the wall at the step to the trailer door and the side creased along to just above the wheel well. The worst damage was to the trailer steps themselves, though of course, the whole thing didn’t improve the looks of the rig.. any, either. This morning, we spent some time straightening out the steps and making things as presentable as possible. Fortunately, there doesn’t appear to be any structural damage and everything worked fine today. One side effect was that one of the kitchen drawers popped out from the force of the collision. While fixing it, I knocked a second drawer off its slides. We spent more time fixing the drawers than the trailer. Let’s hope that’s the end of the bad luck for the duration. (Picture below). Now, evenings when more careful people are sitting around washing and waxing their beautiful machines, we’ll be applying dollops of Bondo to ours. So while other folks on a great adventure are escaping avalanches or bears, we’re trying to escape ourselves. “Wherever you go, there you are.”…We drove to Portage la Prairie today. For miles and miles, the road and everything else is just flat, flat, and flatter. However, the main streets of the town are canopied under arching elms. We haven’t see those in Connecticut for a bit, and unfortunately the ones here are now also being threatened by the Dutch Elm disease. The town is a big agricultural center and you can count about two dozen crops they specialize in, but potatoes and strawberries are really big. They have festivals for both. There is a significant Mennonite population as well as First Nation people, primarily Dakotas and Assinaboines…. As smoothly as things went today we still had one little snafu. We got detoured coming into Winnipeg due to construction and missed the bypass around the city (population about 6 or 700,000) and had to drive right through the downtown business district as well as everything else. Still, it worked out okay, and we think we only lost about 20 minutes travel time…. We are now only about 100 miles behind schedule…. Two things of note. One, we are now on Central Canadian time, an hour behind you folks. Second, the sun doesn’t set until after 10:00 PM and it’s light until 11:00. It does definitely make the day longer— and morning comes damn quickly!…. Off to try to send this…. I hope all of you back home are doing well…

Wednesday evening….. For two days now, across Winnipeg and Saskatchewan, we’ve been rolling through the prairies which are quite beautiful in unexpected ways. Montana may be the Big Sky country, but it’s none too small out here. In some places the crops are in, while in others the ground is just being harrowed. Greens and dark browns contrast. In some spots for miles on end there are few trees; in others there are some groves. But the abiding impression is openess and a horizon forever beyond reach. All roads off the highway are gravel, and very dusty. You can see cars trailing a mile of the stuff behind them so I assume car washes do a decent business. Most of the fields are wheat at the Saskatchewan end, but back by Winnipeg, there is a real variety of vegetable crops. Slowly, the prairie has turned from virtual pool table flat to gently rolling land that is still mostly flat. Some of the small towns are really pretty neat including Indian Head where we are staying tonight. This is wheat country unlike Portage la Prairie where they certainly grow wheat but pride themselves on their vegetable crops. Surprisingly, the soil is only a few inches deep here but that few inches must be well protected. It bills itself as the “prettiest town on the prairie” and the proud citizens may well be right. There are some beautiful houses in town, mostly brick, that I would guess date from the 1880’s into the early 1900’s, though the town wasn’t incorporated till 1905. (I’m going to try to get a couple of the pictures we took in town up on the blog…..

Thursday….. We set out to reach Medici ne Hat but decided to push on to Calgary where we now sit in the shadow of the ski jumps at the Olympic Park. For the first time on the trip we had to turn on the windshield wipers, and they remained on most all day. And, in fact, the forecast is for rain or showers through Sunday. This is unfortunate, in a sense, as we are preparing to see what many have billed as the most beautiful scenery of the whole trip. But into every life, as they say…We are planning to spend tomorrow in the city and tour Banff/Jasper National Park on Saturday, but given the quickly changing forecasts may modify our plans. Today, the plains belonged to the stockmen. While wheat is still grown, the main agricultural focus seems to be cattle, and Calgary celebrates this with a month long “stampede” and exhibition with plenty of bronco bustin’ and ropin’ each July. Every smaller town for hundreds of miles around, advertises it’s own annual rodeo. When you reach Alberta, you’ve pretty much come up to the foothills of the Rockies if you continue west. But we’ll be turning north when we resume our trip on Sunday and travel to Edmonton before entering the mountains…..

Friday morning…. This is the first chance I’ve really had to do the blog for more than a few minutes, so let me backtrack for a bit….. For two nights, in Kenora and Prairie la Portage, we ended up camping in the same campground with a couple from Pennsylvania who are also headed to Alaska and who plan to enter through the same small towns of Chicken and Eagle that we do. They used to have a camper but now are tenting all the way. Our routes diverged on Thursday as they headed up the Yellowhead Route turning north a few days before us. Our paths may cross again…. In Regina, a contentious issue is the poor showing of boys on academic tests with parents arguing for more attention to the way boys learn and more boy-focused activities in the schools. A second issue is the incarceration rate of Aboriginals across Saskatchewan. While they account for 10% of the population, they occupy 80% of jail and prison space. None of the proposed solutions to this problem sound too promising….. Trains are miles long and the highway is used by more trucks than cars, or at least it seems that way, though traffic is exceedingly light except around the major
cities….. “Internet availability” means many different things to different campgrounds. Some offer wi-fi,plain and simple. It’s easy to access and you can work from the trailer whenever you want. We’ve only had this once. Some offer paid wi-fi and you need to access a pop-up window to enter a user and password name— and the pop-up keeps disappearing, or is difficult to access— at least given the level of my computer skills. Some offer a public telephone plug-in. AOL works pretty well with this, but Dave’s Earthlink balks. The campground we’re at now you have to put everything on a disk and enter it at a computer at the office. We don’t have any disks with us. McDonald’s up here don’t have wi-fi, at least not that we’ve found. All of this makes daily e-mail and maintaining the blog difficult, but we expect this will change when we reach Alaska, and maybe even as we travel the AlcanHighway. Today or tomorrow, we’ll try the library or maybe the Sheraton, which has a wi-fi you can sneak onto…. In a bit, we’re taking a special campground bus into downtown Calgary (which we drove through last evening at the height of rush hour!) to see the Zoo and Devonian and botanical gardens, if time allows….. Speaking of time, too much is spent in front of a bug smeared windshield. Though we have very few days we’re slated to drive more than five hours, things don’t always work as planned. Yesterday, we spent nearly ten hours from campground to campground, though this was our longest time in the truck by far. The trek allows us to spend a couple days with no driving at all— except the drive through Jasper/Banff , in the park, tomorrow. We’ve traveled about 3,000 miles now, and while the next week will be hectic, driving will become less of a pain soon. But I should be careful not to disparage all the driving as a good part of it has been through interesting areas….

Gas (diesel, actually) mileage through Wednesday night has averaged 11.8 MPG This may reflect a lot of miles on the prairies, but we’re happier than we were after our first calculation…. Newspapers in Canada are a cut above those of the USA. The front pages and sections are devoted to important national, international, and regional news. The fluff, and there’s much less of it, is located elsewhere. As you might expect, the folks up here are very interested in the US news. As they say, “When the elephant moves, you pay attention.” On the other hand, TV up here is worse than in the states, though I have to be careful here because Charmi would tell you all I watch is the Weather Channel. Anyway, a whole lot of time is given over to cartoons and celebrity crap, though they do have news shows at the typical times….We’ve passed through two time zones and are now on Rocky Mountain Time…..

It’s Saturday, our layover day and planned foray to the Rockies around Banff and Jasper. The weather wizard was rooting for us, and what had been forecast as showers and rain actually materialized as a cloudy morning and then a mostly sunny afternoon…. The morning started with a trip to Starbucks so we could access the internet. And so we did, a four buck vanilla bean mocha and a $7.50 Bell Internet fee later. For that kind of coin I could have called most of you! We did get e-mails from many of you and I got a chance to get the blog and quite a few e-mails out. Forget dollars and sense, I guess it was worth it….The approach to Banff from the plains is absolutely magnificent. There really isn’t much of a transition. Suddenly, the mountains loom before you and then–bang– loom over you. It’s truly impossible to try to convey the awesome grandeur they present. Big. They are. Tall. For sure. Overwhelming. Certainly. Majestic, too. Breath taking.
Well, close— and who knows if it’s the mountains or the emphysema? But just absolutely remarkable in the way they humble everything else. Standing in front of, say, Bow Summit, it isn’t hard to imagine some kid gazing up and planning to level it with his robotic atom powered dozer that he sketched in study hall just last week. Or maybe not. Anyway, a picture’s worth all the words I can conjure so I’ll try to get a few photos up on the blog within the next couple days…Lake Louise deserves promient mention. It’s located off the highway, maybe a thousand or so feet up a mountain. It’s not too big, about 200 acres maybe. But its tourmaline glacial waters tend to mesmerize against the gray and snow capped mountains. We drove the Icefield’s Parkway and saw some glaciers close up. What we never did see was much wildlife—and no bears at all. We did see a cute chipmunk and an emaciated squirrel. Also, something that resembled an obese crow that I decided was a magpie because I don’t know what a magpie looks like but suppose a crow afflicted with giantism might be close. We also saw two “somethings” tearing apart a carcass (unidentifiable, but bloody) but Dave and I couldn’t decide if they were coyotes, cougars, or wolves, though we did agree that they
were too far from home to be common house dogs. Maybe it was just the noon day sun, but none of the large animals we hoped for ventured forth though there were literally hundreds of signs warning us of their presence and the fact that it’s both unwise and illegal to feed them….. Hunger on the mind, we were too tired to cook supper so we had KFC. No extra crispy. No mashed potatoes. Fries only. And maybe that has something to do with why Kerry lost the election….

They said you have a blue guitar
That doesn’t play things as they are.
The man replied, “Things as they are
Are changed upon the blue guitar.”….
- Wallace Stevens( I think)

Anyway, up early Sunday morning and off from affluent Calgary to the booming oil area beyond Edmonton. Actually, we took a perimeter route around Edmonton, which we feared was still celebrating yesterday’s win over Carolina . Believe me, no one up here thinks the final goal was at all in dispute. Anyway, we are sitting in Whitecourt about 100 miles northwest of Edmonton tonight. It drizzled on and off for a good part of the ride today, and actually rained for a while, but had pretty much stopped by the time we reached the campground. In some ways, this was the dullest ride of the trip, though it would be unfair ro say it isn’t a pretty area. Calgary is cattle country and that pretty much continues up to Edmonton and beyond. Occasionally a working oil rig can be spotted from the highway, but there is no spectacular scenery, and perhaps we became jaded after yesterday’s trip to the Rockies. I may have mentioned this, but several people told me that the Alberta Rockies may be the most beautiful part of our trip. So far, they are right!…. Once again we got stiffed on an internet hook-up. The campground is changing from modems to wi-fi, but the wi-fi isn’t hooked-up yet (They’re waiting for an electrician, Ethan)and the modems are gone….. But Dave is very happy to be here: They have a petting zoo— for real. A few goats, a miniature donkey, some turkeys, chickens, a sheep, and one loud bantam rooster. And now the blue guitar. Right after we got here, Dave said he was going into town to pick up some groceries. Town is a couple minutes away. He returned over an hour later. As soon as supper was over, he said he was heading to the river, the mighty Athabasca River which boundaries one side of the campground. The only way to the river is past the petting zoo. He came back to report a fisherman with a couple pike down at the boat launch. No mention of the petting zoo. In honesty, I did stop at the petting zoo myself, and in addition to the normal menagerie, they had about ten or twelve seemingly tropical birds. So that was about it. Not the most stimulating day, but if you want to liven it up a bit, just try the blue guitar….

We had a good drive from Whitecourt to Dawson Creek, covering the distance in about five and a half hours. The morning started out cloudy but quickly turned partly, then mostly, sunny. And temperatures soared, probably up to 70 and maybe a bit more. There is a lot of rolling country some of it as flat as the prairies, and checkerboarded with farms, but things get a bit more hilly as you approach Dawson Creek, which you reach by dropping into a river valley. There are some wooded areas, and we saw a moose and a couple deer. There are still lots of cattle and an occasional working oil rig can be seen from the highway. Out of view there is a lot of oil exploration going on and the Sagitawah RV Park we stayed in last night has pretty much been taken over by workers from the oil fields. They are easily recognizable by the trucks they drive which are so mud encrusted it’s impossible to determine the make or model. The mud is literally two inches thick— on the sides of the trucks!…..Perhaps the most interesting thing we saw today was the Kleskun Hills where the erosion of glacial drift, mostly clay,sand, and gravel has formed interesting terracaes and land formations whose names i don’t know. It’s an area rich in dinosaur tracks and particularly aquatic fossils, from roughly 70 million years ago…. On the political front a number of issues are hot right now. Folks are reacting to the loss of the Liberal government, pro and con. The Provinces are debating revenue sharing and not coming to any agreement. The taxpayers of Alberta are particularly incensed that they are sending money to Quebec, which they claim are able to provide better services than Alberta— on Alberta’s dime. The papers are full of letters warning citizens not to give up any civil liberties as it won’t make the country any safer and it’s just what the “enemy” wants. And, many sure as hell don’t want to be like the United States. The death penalty gets some play, and the game wardens in Saskatchewan want to carry guns now that they have a Conservative government….. Alaska feels a lot closer. We are sitting on Mile 0 of the Alaskan Highway , roughly 1500 miles from Fairbanks, our first major stopping point in Alaska. Tomorrow, it’s off into the forests as we head to Ft. Nelson. Our wildlife sightings should pick up considerably. The Alaskan Highway is vastly improved from WWII days when it was constructed in just nine months but it’s still pretty rough compared to what we’ve become accustomed to. However, the stretch we’re covering in the morning is in nice shape, and the weather is supposed to be superb, so we hope to enjoy ourselves and have some interesting reports for you tomorrow— if we get on the ‘net…. For those keeping score, we are now on Pacific Time, three hours behind you Nutmeggers….

Well, at least we saw a caribou, several deer, and Dave saw a bear, though, I was day dreaming out the other window…. The highway from Dawson Creek to Fort Nelson marks the beginning of what is referred to as the “northern wilderness.” It’s gas and timber country and in some ways resembles the old west, at least as it’s imprinted in my mind. And there are more than a few horse farms (read ranches, I guess) to boot. There are plenty of one story buildings with a second story facade that sometimes even read “saloon.” I haven’t seen any with swinging doors, however, and I guess it’s just too cold up here for that….Speaking of which, the temperature reached 85 degrees today and at 8:00 PM it still feels that hot! The weather tomorrow is supposed to be gorgeous again…. After leaving Dawson Creek today we dipped down into the Peace River valley, famous for its scenery and it’s apiaries, as in bees and honey. But the ride down into the valley is on an unbelievably steep and winding road and pretty much at the edge of a cliff and there’s no money for guardrails in British Columbia. Everyone was in low gear and going about 20 MPH, although up here I guess I should be giving that to you in kilometers. The valley is hemmed in by cliffs which are significantly eroded and must be a geologist’s dream, except that all the geologists up here are working on oil and gas exploration…. What we traveled today is called the Alaskan Highway. It was built in nine months in 1942 after Pearl Harbor when a Japanese invasion was thought possible and there seemed to be a need to link the west coast areas of Alaska, Canada, and the good ole US of A. The amazing thing is that all 1400 plus miles were surveyed, designed, and built in the nine months alluded to above. The army engineers tried to make it as utilitarian as possible so there are many straightaways that at least in that respect resemble the roads back on the plains…We’re still aiming for Dawson City and a two or three day break this weekend, so tomorrow we push on to Watson Lake. It may be a spectacular drive as we cross the Canadian Rockies— and again a lot of wildlife is supposedly within view….. If we get on the net tomorrow, I’ll let you know…. Till then….

We arrived in Whitehorse mid-afternoon in a pouring rain.  No matter, we are now only 300 miles from Alaska were we to continue on our present route— and actually only about a hundred as the crow flies to Skagway.  However, we’re turning north and hope to be in Dawson City by late tomorrow.  Most of the folks in the Pioneer RV Campground tonight are headed to the border  with the morning sunrise, at least assuming the rain stops.  Whitehorse lies on the Yukon River and has been the capital of the Northwest Territories since 1953.  It’s really pretty much the nerve center for the Yukon region with a booming population of 16,000— but that makes it far larger then anything else for several hundred miles around…..  After yesterday’s ride through the Rockies, which I’ll mention in a bit, the travel today was something of a letdown, though by and large pretty nice country.  We did cross the Continental Divide in the Cassair Mountains this morning.  It is notable for dividing the drainage areas of the Mackenzie and Yukon rivers.  But standing on the spot is not momentous, nor is the location even particularly picturesque.  We did see some wildlife but nothing like yesterday.  (Dave has run out to do some shopping so it’s possible that he’ll have a report on Whitehorse itself, but so far I’ve seen nothing but the eastern outskirts)…..  Now, on to the Rockies.  Last Saturday, we toured around the Banff/Jasper area and many of you have read the blog I’m sure.  If I couldn’t conjure the superlatives or draw the word pictures exactly, I still hope I conveyed the awesomeness and beauty of the Rockies.  Well, let me tell you, the eastern Canadian Rockies we rode yesterday are even more beautiful, if for no other reason than the fact that they are more varied and the region is more isolated so it doesn’t have any tourist feel.  In fact, we often drove for ten or more miles without meeting an on-coming car.  The ride ain’t for the faint-hearted however as it often resembles a roller coaster and edges along cliffs that drop off several hundred feet.  No guard rails in sight.  I’m forwarding some more Rockies pictures to Dan and they’ll appear here soon.  And now I can compare notes on hoodoos (erosion pillars) and alleuvial fans (the silt and gravel conveyed down the mountains and which arranges itself at the base much in the shape of what the pre A/C folks waved in front of their faces.  I really don’t have either the expertise or typing speed to try to describe the many geologic formations, but they are beautiful to behold!….  And wildlife, finally!  We saw our first two bears within ten minutes of leaving Fort Nelson.  We were to see a couple more along the way.  We also saw caribou, Stone sheep (much like the Dall’s in Alaska but darker in color), a fox, a buffalo, and, you guessed it, several squirrels. No petting zoo…..  Some statistics, for those who like them.  Even after our climb over the Rockies, we are still averaging about 11 MPG.  I guess we’re pleased. But most every day we travel we’re spending something over $75.00 on diesel fuel.   Fuel is a little over a buck a liter, making that close to $4.75 per gallon.  Of course, in a short time, we’ll be driving far less.  Campgrounds average $20-$30 per night.  We could cut this down but we look for places with an internet connection, preferably wi-fi, so this limits our choices to the “better” RV parks.  So far, we’ve put 4600 miles on the odometer.  Even though we’re not far from the Yukon River, we’re still at an altitude of 2,306 feet. And that’s all the numbers for today….  A little about Rv’ing, and I know some of you are far more versed in this than I.  But I’ll try to give it from the perspective of the trip thus far.  Foremost, the RV folks are friendly.  They actually have some energy after driving for six or eight hours to tour the towns and sit around and BS.  We’ve seen some folks at multiple campgrounds and, in fact, the folks that are right next to us tonight are the same folks who were right next to us back in Dawson Creek.  This is fairly remarkable in that both campgrounds are large ones.  However, my guess would be that there are 10 or 20 people at Pioneer tonight who were back in Dawson Creek.  This is primarily because most everone is headed to Alaska and taking the same route….  As you can imagine, most of the RV’ers here are retired but there are exceptions.  At a pullover, I talked to a 30ish guy who was on his way to Alaska from Alberta with his wife and three kids.  (I’m not the truant officer so I didn’t ask about school.  It should be noted, also, that Canadians have more vacation time than American workers)  The campgrounds themselves range from beautifully sited and meticulously maintained to the dusty and grungy, with bathrooms that resemble those along highways or in college dormatories.  But most of the owners of these places are pretty proud of them.  It’s a hands-on type of work so they are very involved,, and most are a husband/wife endeavor, or wife/husband if you prefer, and the larger ones sometimes involve extended family and part-time high school students…..  Just quickly, in the row at the campground tonight there are people from Virginia, North Dakota, California (2), Pennsylvania, Texas, Alberta, Ohio, and on and on.  All headed to the Land of the Midnight Sun.  Speaking of which, it’s now light from approximately 4:00 Am till 11:00 PM. It should be noted that we are now on Pacific Time, three hours behind you New Englanders…   I intended to go on here for a while but will postpone to another day as I’m running out of time….  Hope all of you are well….  On to Dawson City and the gold rush! 

That’s 1898 when the gold rush hit Dawson City.  Today, it’s a funky town where the spirit of ‘98 lives on and you can pan for gold (Dave is doing it as I type),gamble, watch the powerful Yukon River roll by, see the folks in period costumes, and generally feel you’re in the middle of some old western.  The buildings is town range from restored boom era stuff to shacks that haven’t been painted since the gold rush ended.  But in an ironic way, despite its tough veneer, Dawson City is known for it’s writers as much as anything else.  Robrt Service, the “Bard of the Yukon” lived here and worked as a bank teller.  Jack London author of “Call of the Wild” and “White Fang” ,  both assigned reading for all of you in high school and completed by a very few, had a cabin for a while only a couple blocks away.  Pierre Burton of “Klondike” fame, and one of Canada’s truly famous writers, though not well known in the States, was born and lived here  much of his life.  This morning I visited the two cabins, though I am going back to the Jack London site tomorrow, and I listened to a reading of Robert Service’s poems.  They are really verses, and easy to memorize, much like Rudyard Kipling’s “Barrack’s Ballads.”  I can do a couple myelf, including “The Shooting of Dan McGrew.”  But don’t ask Charmi to ask me to recite it!…..  Dave has forwarded a bunch of great pictures of Dawson City to Dan (who is very busy right now) and hopefully some of them will make their way to the blog…  Dawson City is also known as ” a drinking town with a fishing problem.”  If this gets around, you can expect a second coming for this neck of the woods.  But it is truly an interesting place.  Outside town the rocks (tailings) that were harvested in the mammouth gold dredges,  are piled ten or more feet high for a couple miles on end.  To the north and east of downtown is a mountain called the “Dome.”  It’s a couple thousdand feet up but you can drive your car to the top (carefully) and Dave and I did this morning.  The views are superlative!. Still when the day comes to an end around here, and at this time of year the sun sets after 11:00 PM. if it weren’t for the tourists, they’d chop up the wooden sidewalks, make a big bonfire in the middle of the muddy streets, and have one last marshmellow roast….  Yesterday, we drove up from Whitehorse on the Klondike Road through caribou and grizzly country but weren’t fortunate enough to see either.  The highway is rather rough in spots, and in some places gravel, loose at that, as opposed to paved, but we covered the distance in fine shape.  The ride was long, pretty in places, but again pales in comparison to the earlier rides through the Rockies.  We stayed in Whitehorse only overnight and din’t see all that much of the town, but it is similar to Dawson City, though much larger, in that it’s sole function is to keep tourists entertained.  But it, too, got it’s start as a gold rush town.  It was at Whitehorse that the Klondike “stampeders” stayed to dry out after ascending the Yukon rapids and re-stock supplies.  So the tie to Dawson City is close— and many of the same stage shows are presented in both towns….   We’re here for one more day, so I’ll let you know if we find anything realy interesting.  In the meantime, from Robert Service:

                                          I wanted the gold and I sought it;

                                          I scrabbled and mucked like a slave.

                                          Was it famine or scurvey, I fought it;

                                          I hurled my youth into the grave.

                                          I wanted the gold, and I got it—

                                          Came out with a fortune last fall—

                                          Yet somehow life’s not what I thought it,

                                           And somehow the gold isn’t all…..

We finally have a large cache of pictures from the trip. Click the picture below to see more….

(Sorry, I lost the timestamps, so the pictures are in alphabetical order.)

-dan

Some of you are thinking Lawrence Ferlinghetti, at least the over-60 crowd, but I’m speaking specifically of the never ending daylight in Dawson City. The sun “sets” about 11:15 PM and rises again about 1:30 AM. But it never really gets dark. Just dusky. So you couldn’t sneak off with your sweetie without being seen, but you could weed your garden at midnight without problem. The hens up here struggle because they refuse to roost in the daylight and finally collapse of exhaustion unless sheltered in a shuttered chicken coop, and this is actually a practice followed by egg producers….. Anyway, I spent part of Father’s Day reading the biography of a woman named Laura Burton (”I Married the Klondike“) who came to Dawson City as a young kindergarden teacher in 1907, just as the gold rush was slowing down, and stayed on into 1932. Her’s was truly a fascinating life. And, while I still may be a rebrobate, I no longer want any of you accusing me of being a male chauvinist…. I may tell you a bit more about Laura Burton in a later blog but today I want to focus on Dawson City as it’s fairly representative of the few other towns there are up here in the Yukon….. Dawson City didn’t really exist until the stampeders came to the area n 1898 to kick off the gold rush. It quickly grew to 30,000, almost all men and almost all seeking gold, though the men who usually struck it rich were those who provided supplies to the miners. It’s interesting that more than a few men made huge fortunes in the gold fields, but almost to a person they died paupers. A few, like the Guggenhiems increased their fortunes from afar, and today we sit in a campground in what’s called Googieville, the supply base for the Guggenheim interests. But by 1905 the gold rush was essentially over and the miners moving out. The high point for gold extraction was 1900 when $22,275,000 of the shiny stuff was mined. The town dwindled to 800 hardy souls doing God- knows-what by the 1940’s. Today, the town harbors 1,200 people who basically cater to tourists. But the town resembles the gold rush era at least in part because no one rehabbed the buildings, some of which are collapsing these days, and also due to an ordinance up here that requires that all new buildings, of which there are precious few, resemble gold rush housing. So the houses are generally older, many dating back more than a hundred years. A few still have sod roofs, many are chinked logs, a couple rough sawn wood, some shingled, and almost without exception, they are small. As far as I can determine, none have cellars. There are a few houses that stand out because they were obviously built by wealthy folks and have been well maintained or restored, but they are still small by today’s standards. A thousand square feet would be really on the huge side. They are now frequently painted in guady colors (the better for tourists to photograph) but a hundred years ago they were almost all gray. The commercial area and housing exist together on eight avenues intersected by a dozen streets. The town is roughly a half mile by maybe three quarters of a mile. That’s it. But it’s magnificently situated on the Yukon River which rolls unendingly by. The largest building ,by far, in town is now the Dawson City Museum but formerly was the government administration building. It’s front is about 100 feet long and it’s a two story gorgeous example of neo-classical architecture. There are still a few churches, some in disrepair, a few smallish motels and hotels, a couple restaurants, but none very large, and a casino about the size of a convenience store. On Front Street (that fronts the river of course) there are a number of shops and boutiques. All sport false fronts and period signs. All in all, a very “western” effect and quite charming. One important note. Like every other town in central and northern Canada that we have seen, it has a multitude of recreational facilities such as outdoor heated pool as well as indoor pool, hockey rink, soccer and softball fields, youth center, and on and on in some towns. This probably reflects the rugged weather and need to have something to do….. All of which leads me to the social aspect of life in Dawson City from the turn of the 20th Century until today. From it’s very beginnings the town has had many balls, dances and celebrations, practically on a weekly basis. Many of the balls were for the golden crust only and featured gowns from Paris and gentlemen in formal wear. Social manners were strictly observed. This drove women moving to Dawson to tears as they came with the roughest of clothing prepared to survive in the frigid arctic and then were forced to spend small fortunes to dress for these events. But many other socials were conducted for the population as a whole, often by churches and the townspeople attended pretty much as a whole…. Speaking of chuches, naturally the missionaries were here en masse. When they didn’t enjoy success among the miners they reached out to the aboriginals. Which leads to a cute story. A missionary visiting a village for the first time in several years encountered a man calling to his daughter, Gasoline. When the missionary inquired how she came by her name, the man replied, “You named her, Father.” Several weeks later, getting back to Dawson, the missionary checked the baptism records. You got it: Kathleen…. By the bye, Dawson City always had the best of the best. Whether it was food or clothing, shipping costs were so high that merchants just ordered the best in the belief that there was no sense wasting good shipping money on inferior wares…. Am signing off here, but if folks want stuff other than I’m providing on the blog, please let me know. I’ll try to accomodate….

Shortly after we arrived at the campground in Dawson City last Friday night, I was absent-mindedly walking around the corner by the garbage/recycling center when I almost bumped into a guy coming from the opposite direction…. “Daydreaming, eh?” A bit abashedly, I confirmed my guilt. We laughed and began the obligatory introductions. He had a prepared spiel, “a seven day a week dirty job with few benefits, that nobody would ever want to take away from me.” He is a “small” (1,700 acres) wheat farmer from Saskatchewan….. He was eager to tell me about a guy he’d just met who had rolled his motor home on the Top of the World Highway the day before. It seems the fellow had tried to pull to the shoulder of the dirt road to let another vehicle pass when the loose gravel on the shoulder gave way and the motor home rolled into a ditch. Fortunately, no one was hurt and even more fortunately it rolled into the ditch on the side of the road away from the cliff opposite, which pitched down several hundred feet. The farmer and his wife (nope, I never heard if he had a daughter so no joke here) had just crossed the Top of the World and he could see how that could happen. His own feelings were that he was glad he did the Top of the World, but he wouldn’t do it again. It wasn’t the danger that bothered him but the nearly 140 miles of washboard and potholes. Anyway, we struck up a friendship, or at least a friendship as far as these things go on a campground, and through Monday morning we met several times to “palaver.”…..Despite his seven day a week job, “you get some down time,” he has traveled quite extensively including Australia, New Zealand, several weeks in Europe for the Olympics (” the Americans walk on the right, the Europeans on the left, and the Japanese down the middle, disrupting chaos”)much of the Unitedd States, and Japan, though never Alaska before this trip. He claims not to be a reader, “that’s my son,” though he’s familiar with both Robert Service and Jack London as well as Pierre Burton and is a “newspaper junkie.” Politically, he self-describes as “conservative leaning; I’m a farmer, eh.”….. He says he initially supported “Bush’s war,” though he never really understood why Saddam/Iraq was the focus as there are bigger problems in the world “Maybe his father.” He’s now come to the conclusion that” war shouldn’t be the perogative of one man” and that little good, will ever come out of the Iraq situation, though we’ll be forever cleaning up the “mess.” Nor can he condone the use of mercenaries. “If you have a war, you have to feel the pain.” He doesn’t think the States are particularly imperialistic, but the use of paid armies is “typical” of imperialism…… He’s a free market man, except for commodities (grain), he says with a chuckle. He went to the Diamond Tooth Gerties shows in both Whitehorse ($20) and Dawson City ($6). You get what you pay for. the show in Whitehose is at least five times better…. Then, he proceeds to detail all the need for government…The primary problem he sees with government is that the prevailing parties change too often and, “particularly with ideology gone crazy, things swing 180 degrees. You can’t be a chemical farmer one year and an organic farmer the next.”….. On health care, he’s totally baffled by the US refusal to develop some national standards. He quickly acknowledges some problems with the Canadian system, primarily backlogs for certain procedures, but points out that everyone gets solid basic care. ” If you get caught in the backlog, and you have the money, you go down to the States and have things taken care of.” He says he knows of several people who have done exactly that. He believes Canada should build that type of option into its system…. His son, who is just turning 43, came back home last summer to take over the farm. He’s thrilled as after the university his son got into computers and had spent the last twenty years or so living in southern California. He’s been somewhat concerned that his daughter inlaw wouldn’t be happy to live in Saskatchewan, but it’s turned out quite the opposite. “I’ve been a lucky man,” he says, a term I occasionally use to describe myself….. None of this is particularly revolutionary, but some of it is surprising coming from someone who says he leans conservative, A different perspective from our friends to the north, perhaps? On Monday morning, as we were both leaving, he wanted me to take “just for a half hour to go see the cemetery in Dawson City. “The most fascinating place in town. You can practically trace the whole history.” I had to beg off as we were already late getting started to the Top of the World. We shook hands and called it a weekend. He’s a man I’d be glad to have for a friend and neighbor. If you’re ever in Saskatchewan, look him up— or maybe he’ll find you. His name is Frank….

Special Dispatch From The Field….On Monday, June 19th as the sun crossed the yardarm, we crossed from Canada into Poker Flats, Alaska, USA. This time there was no international incident that would cause Homeland Security to raise the alert status. In fact, a very personable and humorous customs official had us processed in about three minutes max! A pleasant change from the last time. Last night we stayed in Tok, Alaska and tonight we’re just outside Fairbanks t our home for the next week or so. It’s on a pond that’s a site for a couple sea plane bases and a regular small plane airport. We have a waterfront lot with a gorgeous view. I’ll try to get a picture posted on the blog soon…. Yesterday’s trip was something else. From Dawson City we took a ferry boat across the swift Yukon River which still features ice chunks and immediately began a 4000 foot ascent into the mountains. Most of the trip was on narrow, winding, steep roads with no shoulders to speak of and no guard rails anywhere at all. There was barely room for two vehicles to pass and sometimes your vehicle’s wheels were only three feet or so from a thousand or more foot drop. The way you have to view it, I guess, is that a drop of five feet could kill you. Some of the time we were actually driving above the tree line with snow banks along the side of the road. You who know me, realize it was white knuckle all the way. The views were spectacular and vertigo inducing . Unfortunately, this jaunt is about 140 miles long and the potholed and washboard surface gets to you long before you reach the pavement in Chicken, Alaska. I’m not sure that I’d want to do it again, but… We have wi-fi at the Chena Marina RV Park where well be till early next week. However, it’s intermittent wi-fi. Some of the folks up here blame it on Eielson Air Force Base, which is only a couple miles away, with all their sophisticated communication systems. Anyway, I’ll be in touch, but if I’m not on-line a lot, that’s the reason. Please keep in mind, too, that we are now on Alaskan Time, four hours behind EDST. It never gets dark here— at least as this time of year. Tonight we’re off to the midnight baseball game featuring the Alaskan Goldpanners…. A report tomorow— maybe….

After logging well over 5,000 miles, we arrived at the Chena Marina RV Park and made camp, as you may recall, on Tuesday afternoon. We’re located on a pond a little more than a mile long and somewhat less than 200 feet wide. It would appear to be man made, except I’ve been assured that it’s natural. Tethered the length of the pond on the west side at fairly regular intervals are float planes of various makes, sizes, and colors. Just back from the pond, and running it’s length, there’s a runway for wheeled planes. Every 100 yards or so is another hanger. On our side, the east, there is the RV park, where a few peple summer with their planes, a couple private homes with planes, then a few fishing and hunting outfitters, with their planes, and some more homes with planes. By now you have the idea of a lot of planes, and you’re right. Given dstances traveled in this Last Frontier, folks fly a lot. Even people who live across the street that circles the pond have planes. As you can imagine, there’s lots of activity and a certain level of noise. Owing to a couple helicopters, the drone and whine of Cessnas and their cousins is broken by the thumps of the choppers. Still, it’s fairly quiet from mid-evening till 6:30 AM and you quickly tune out the sounds anyway— especially when you can take off your hearing aides!. It seems that few folks tire of watching the landings and take offs, and that includes a retired airline pilot and his wife—who is also a pilot…. The RV park is a real nice one and we have a “premier” site that’s only thirty or so feet from the water. That “premier” stuff, aside from price, is that we get a large lot for the trailer and additional parking for the truck, a real luxury in some places. There’s a concierge service, bus to town, free RV wash, etc. We’ve called it home for the last five days and will stay here until Wednesday morning when we depart for the thrills of Denali. It’s comfortable and has allowed us to be tourists instead of travellers. And, as you may have sensed, I was getting pretty tired of the longish drives most every day….It’s only a couple miles to downtown Fairbanks and we’ve been into town a couple times. Fairbanks is only about 30,000 souls, though the “economic area” it serves amounts to 80,000. So, while it’s much larger than you’d expect, the downtown itself is fairly compact with few buildings over three or four stories. It’s pretty much a service and supply point for all of interior Alaska, with some mining industry. Additionally, it houses Eielson Air Force Base and Wainwright Army Base, so there’s a strong military presence. It’s also the home of the University of Alaska Fairbanks whose glorious presence looms on a hill above the town. It’s really a gorgeous place with some very fine architecture. With all this said, Fairbanks is a nice, small city with an big urban sprawl problem as it’s ringed by roads lined with the usual agglomeration of fast food joints, supermarkets, drug chains, ad nauseum. This definitely detracts from the history,represented here in so many ways and in which they take great pride. There’s little apparent poverty, but I’ve read that the city fathers, and maybe mothers, cleaned out the bars and sex stores a few years back. Drugs, gangs, and DUI are cited as major problems in the press, but most of it sounds either typical or benign…. So, as I say, we’ve been tourists in and around the city. As many of you know, we went to the Midnight Baseball game played at 10:30 PM with only natural lighting. Though I left in the fifth, Dave stuck it out till the tenth inning when he decided to leave— and the Fairbanks Goldpanners promptly scored to pull out a win over the Beatrice Bruins. The next afternoon we went to the annual outdoor arts festival in the core of the city. It truly wasn’t much different than anything we could have visited in any number of cities at home excepting the types of crafts offered, often with an accent on the native cultures. Yesterday, we took a relatively short ride to Chena Hot Springs, located about 50 miles east. Dave hiked the Angel Rocks Trail for a few hours while I angled the North Fork of the Chena Riverfor grayling with only minimal success. At the fourth or fifth stretch I fished, I manged to catch two grayling, neither of which was eight inches. But the river was muddy from thunderstorms the night before and so the going was tough. And I did catch a species of fish I’d never caught before. We drove up to the hot springs but didn’t go for a dip. The most interesting thing there was a “kennel” of huskies that must have run about 100 strong. All in all, a fun trip in nice weather, the fishing be damned. Not much wildlife, though we did see a few moose, and while I was fishing I kept glancing over my shoulder for bears. Today we started the morning at the university museum, as fascinating as it is beautiful. (We’ll get a picture up.) It’s a repository for Alaska’s vast and varied trasures and is a magnificent introduction to the physical history, the various cultures, and the development of the state. As museums go, this one should interest just about anyone. The upstairs is an art gallery and fairly captures the diversity of the state. (Surprisingly, there was one anti- Iraqiwar piece,an American flag each of the stripes held together with safety pins, and a variety of quotes (Dubya, Rumsfeld), sketches (the crooked smirk), and symbols imposed. There was an accompanying letter from the university president expaining why it was important to exhibit the work. Same ole, same ole.) In Fairbanks? Wow! After the museum it was off to the Large Animal Research Center to see the musk oxen and caribou. There was no tour scheduled for about an hour, plus we are slated to visit a musk ox farm in Mat-Su, so our stay was brief. We then went to the Creamer Field Migratory Bird Refuge where Dave took a short hike and I contented myself with watching the sandhill cranes peck about the barley. We wrapped up the day by visiting the Tanana Valley Farmer’s Market where Dave bought a loaf of Zuccini bread and i got one of onion batter….. So, that’s been life the last few days, nothing exciting, but quietly satisfying. I could remain here for the summer if the fishing in the area was decent…. Stay tuned for a stern wheeler river boat ride on the Tanana River and possibly a trip north. But if this all seems a bit tame, hang in there. Next week in Denali, we’ll be staying nearly 40 miles out in the park at a camping area that was closed to tent campers last summer due to marauding bears. If I can stop cowering under the bed long enough, while Dave is out hiking, I may get off a wild and wooly blog…

(here’s a picture of the pond, and check out the google map overhead -dan)

Sorry it’s taken so long to get these posted. I believe they’re worth the wait. There are two sets, click on each of the photos below to see the rest of the set.

-dan

Set One

Set Two

PLEASE NOTE THAT TODAY’S WILL BE THE LAST BLOG FOR A WHILE.  THEY HAVEN’T TURNED DENALI INTO DISNEYWORLD YET, SO WE’LL HAVE NO ACCESS TO THE INTERNET UNTIL AT LEAST NEXT TUESDAY, JULY 4TH….  DAN MAY POST A FEW PICTURES FOR US, THOUGH, ASSUMING WE GET THEM TO HIM…..

Yup, it’s farewell to Fairbanks, certainly not the most exciting part of Alaska, and definitely not a great fishing venue, particularly in the month of June.  Still, we’ve had a long and  relaxing break here from travel and we’ve enjoyed the campground and city tremendously…..  Yesterday, we took the afternoon trip on the “Discovery” riverboat.   It rained a bit but not enough to disrupt our good time.   It’s a three and a half hour jaunt down the Chena and Tanana rivers that doesn’t even cover eight miles round trip, thereby avoiding high fuel costs.  At $46.95 it seems to be tailored to the affluent tour groups and so it is.  The parking lot was crammed with tour busses from all the well known purveyors and there were, at most, 30 private cars in the lot.  This to fill two tour boats, Discovery II and III, that seat 1,300 together and were nearly at capacity when the crew tossed off the lines at 2:00 PM  But, despite the steep price, “Travel” magazine rates it “the best riverboat trip in the United States.”   Now I haven’t taken a lot of riverboat trips, but I’d have to agree with them.   It is sort of a combination of the aforementioned Disney World and Sturbridge Village…..  The Discovery is a very quiet sternwheeler with 19 viewing monitors strategically placed so that you don’t miss a second of the continuous narration— or the pitches for the gift shop, aboard and back at port!  Anyway, the boat makes frequent stops, the first just a quarter mile down river to watch a float plane  take off then land.  There is an intercom conversation with the pilot after he lands detailing the need for bush planes in Alaska.  You then pass a number of waterfront homes including that of the current Crook, I mean Governor, of Alaska, who many think makes John Rowland look like “Honest Abe.”  ( By the way, one of the Binkleys, the well-known family that owns the riverboat ride, is running in a Republican primary against Governor Murchowski.  We saw him at the Midnight Baseball game, along with an honest women, Sarah Palin, from Wasilla and badly under-funded, who is also running.)  The Discovery soon stops again, at the house and kennels of Susan Butcher, the women who won the Iditarod four times! (In Alaska, “men are men, but women win the Iditarod!”)  Susan Butcher is in Seattle being treated for leukemia, but she has another Iditarod racer covering for her.  You get a whole history of racing, dog training, and conditioning as well as a demonstration of the huskies pulling a wheeled dog sled.  From there you hit a time warp and stop at a replica Native Alaskan Athabascan village roughly modeled on the gold rush era.  Again, there are narrated lectures (courtesy of Athabascan women who are currently at the University of Alaska Fairbanks and well-connected to the Binkleys) providing glimpses into the Athabascan’s culture and history.  All of it is very well presented.  I won’t kill you with detail, but it was very enjoyable.  Only one last observation: the average age of tour boat folks had to be well into the seventies.  In a crowd of well over a thousand people on the boats, I would venture there weren’t 30 under age 55….

Tomorrow, it’s on to Denali, a highlight of the trip for Dave where he plans to do a lot of hiking, but another spot where fishing is vitually non-existent.  We do have a whitewater trip planned as well as the standard shuttle bus ride through the park when we hope to see much wildlife and maybe catch a glimpse of Mount McKinley, though the chances on any given day are only 30%.  (I’ve spoken to three people at the campground who spent several days there in the past week or so, and none of them saw the peak.  Given the weather forecast for the next few days, we may have to wait till late in our stay.)  But we are both looking forward to our time at Denali.  For the first five days we’ll be at a campground on the Teklanika River (absolutely no fish because of heavy glacial siltation) over thirty miles out in the park.  This campground was closed to tent campers last summer due to marauding bears.  Dave has prepared for his hikes by purchasing some bear spray.  I have dusted under my bed.  Actually, as I know I’ll be the slowest person in any group, I have developed the honey dip strategy.  I have ordered a dozen to be delivered fresh each morning.  If I encounter a bear under my bed, I’ll just scatter the doughnuts in different directions and climb on the top bunk.  It is useless to climb the black spruces in the area as they are relatively limber and even small cubs can shake you out of them.  I’ll let you know how this works.  If you don’t hear from me again, well …. On Monday, we move to the Grizzly Bear RV Park about six miles outside Denali’s gates….  Today we’ll tinker with the trailer, greasing wheel bearings and such.  Sometime, we have to get to the store and lay in supplies for the five days in Denali .  This includes important staples such as Cheez Its and ice cream bars.  We may do some last minute sightseeing but we’ve basically wrapped up this phase of our trip….  Stay tuned for what we hope are not too, too exciting adventures….

SPECIAL DISPATCH….Yesterday a grizzly bear was shot and wounded near a campground where we will SOON be staying and in the EXACT location we’re (or at least we were) planning to catch huge salmon.  The bear was  reportedly   plugged five times by a .44 handgun,  near the Russian River Ferry in Cooper Landing by an angler, who, with three friends, was taking a shortcut through some brush to a pool in the Kenai River.  Nothing and no one respects fishermen!… Authorities are skeptical about the five purported hits as the blood trail was fairly light.  Of course, this makes the bear doubly , or even tripley dangerous as he is now p-ssed off and possibly lurking near the campground awaiting our imminent arrival.  Grizzlies are notorious for their ability to survive physical injury.  They are reportedly worse than Al Quaida camels for their revengeful attitudes!….  For the record, though it won’t be tomorrow, we will be arriving at this particular campground  in ONLY  51 days!!! Let us hope the “authorities” are able to find this renegade faster than they’ve found— well, for instance, Osama….Krispy Kreme stock is sure to rise and I’m doubling up the 2×8’s  that frame my bed….  Bear with us….

Its a great big, broad land up yonder,
It’s the forests where silence has lease,
It’s the beauty that fills me with wonder,
It’s the stillness that fills me with peace….

Denali is an overwhelming park. At six million acres, it’s roughly the size of Massachusetts. Without argument, it’s centerpiece is Mt. McKinley, which at 20,320 feet it is the tallest peak in North America. In another sense, at 18,000 feet, it’s the tallest peak in the world as measured from it’s base in terms of vertical relief. (Mt. Everest is about 11,000.) It is not a particularly difficult climb, at least in cooperative weather and 1,700 mountaineers attempt it each summer. About half succeed. But 400,000 people visit the park, and most everyone comes to see McKinley. They also come to see wildlife, sub-artic tundra, and hike trails or non-trails, camp, bike, bird watch, study natural history, take photos, casually and seriously, and participate in the many programs offered by the park rangers. Most everyone uses the shuttle busses as they are the most efficient way to see large parts of the park, including the wildlife, the rivers and the mountains. The majority of the 400,000 visitors are here for just one or two days, so to leave time to hit the gift shop, the busses make most sense, though only about 30% of one day visitors get to see McKinley due to rain and clouds. Still, it’s all fascinating wilderness, or at least the most wilderness any of us will ever see, and brings to mind the line from Thoreau, ” Nature here is savage and awful, though beautiful.”…. Outside the park, what is referred to as the “frontcountry,” is a melange of motels, gift shops, rafting outfits, flightseeing companies, and other cunningly contrived tourist magnets, all of which appear to thrive. As a thumbnail sketch, this will have to do, though in no way does it begin to capture the majesty of the
wilderness….. The drive down to the park from Fairbanks on Wednesday was only about 100 miles and uneventful except for the ubiquitous highway repairs. We were processed though the camping permit department very quickly, though Dave had to attend a 40 minute presentation since he was planning an overnight hike and camping trip. We then drove the 30 mile park road out to our campground and immediately were confronted with the problem of getting 50 plus feet of truck and trailer into spaces designed for something much smaller. With a bit of body language, as well as other language, and about ten shots, we succeeded. The camping spot is somewhat different from most RV parks in that an effort is made to separate the sites a bit among the black spruce and shrubs to provide more of a wilderness experience. Until a few years ago, tent campers were allowed into the Teklanika River camp, but first a wolf problem and later a bear problem have limited camping to those in hard sided vehicles. In fact, we’ve seen nonr of neither at the camp and rangers say they anticipate opening the area to tenters again next year….. On Thursday, the second consecutive nice day, we rode the tour bus from the campground to the end of the line at Kantishna out past Wonder Lake. For those of you planning to come, don’t bother to go past Wonder Lake as there isn’t much new to see, though you do ford two streams with the bus, but it adds considerably to the trip. As it was, the bus ride lasted from 9:05 AM till 7:05 PM. (For the folks who started at the visitors center, the ride starts and ends about an hour and a half later making the total trip a little over twelve hours.) If you liked Top of the World Highway, you’ll love this ride! There’s no roller coaster comparable, at least according to one women from California that says she’s sampled roller coasters all over the country. You drive on gravel roads terraced into sides of mountains that turn back on themselves at the very end of a ridge, and I mean very end. Thus, to folks sitting in the rear of the bus, it appears the front has traveled over the end of the road and is turning on nothing but air. Occasionally you meet a bus coming the other way– and somebody has to back up as there’s no way two can pass. In truth, after the Top of the World, I’ve become somewhat used to this type of aerial acrobatics so I enjoyed the trip more than I might have without that previous
preparation. We lucked out and the day was gorgeous, only the second good day for viewing in some time. We had stunning views of the Alaskan Range and Mt. McKinley throughout the trip. And wildlife was fairly abundant, too. Caribou, moose, Dall
sheep bears, and eagles were fairly frequently in sight. Unfortunately, they were rarely in camera range. Again, if you are going on this trip, you need a telephoto lens as long as your leg— and believe it or not, the guy across the aisle from me had not one, but two, plus a video recorder that probably cost about what the 5th wheel did. All in all a great time. I should put in a good word for our bus driver who delivered us safely back to Tek camp. She has a nice sense of humor and a real command of the bus, as do all the drivers, I suppose. Most of them have several years of experience (this is her seventh season) and most not only are college graduates but many have advanced degrees…..Friday morning, under cold and threatening skies that were soon to deliver, Dave ventured forth on his camping expedition while, back at the trailer, I rifled through his papers to see whose name is on the life insurance.But I took some solace in the fact that after I reported him missing I could quickly be on my way to the salmon grounds without the planned delays in Grizzly Bear Park (And Petting Zoo), Mat Su and Anchorage. From my vantage point under the bed (after the failure to find any life insurance), I began to hear (poorly) the pitter patter of raindrops on the trailer roof. They were to punctuate the silence on and off into the next morning. Meanwhile, the temperatures overnight quickly plunged into the forties making me forget how difficult it was to sleep under the bed without a pillow. I won’t ruin his good story, which I’m sure he’ll be relating shortly, but i will forewarn you it includes tracking wildebeestes above the soggy tundra….. Upon his return, we fired up the trailer furnace for the first time. We had used the air conditioning twice early in the trip but had no occasion for heat. Today, we used the furnace again as the temps dropped into the forties. As you might gather, the weather the last couple days hasn’t been all that inviting,
though yesterday (Saturday) afternoon the sun came out about 4:40 PM and the mercury quickly climbed into the 70’s. These types of temperature wings are fairly commonplace here. Today, it has been cold and misting intermittently. As you who know me well may imagine, I’ve done a whole lot of reading. (Dave, by the way is off hiking again this dreary Sunday afternoon..). The Teklinka River, upon whose banks we are camped, is typical of many of the Alaskan rivers. At this time of year, it’s a half mile wide, comprising mostly sandbars interspersed with trickles of water and one main channel that may be a foot or two deep. However, the volume of water will increase nine or ten times by mid July from the melting glaciers and it will be a roaring torrent. These rivers in days gone by made fording virtually impossible during the summer months and thus made winter, with its frozen ground and snow, preferable for land travel…..There’s so much more to say about Denali but I’d like to get this off tomorrow, so I’ll just close this segment with a little more Robert Service:

No! There’s the land. (Have you seen it?)
It’s the cussedest land that I know.
Fromthe big, dizzy mountains that screen it
To the deep, deathlike valleys below.
Some say God was tired when he made it;
Some say it’s a fine land to shun;
Maybe; but there’s some as would trade it
For no land on earth— and I’m one……

Tomorrow morning, we saddle up again and move the thirty miles to the front of the park and then down the highway six miles to an RV park. At Teklanika, we are restricted from traveling back to the main entrance of the park. We have a couple trips planned including a white water rafting expedition on Wednesday, so it’s necessary for us to move. The good thing about this is that we should be in the land of wi-fi again and I’ll be able to get this blog off. Maybe just as importantly, our holding tanks are filling so we need to get to a dump station before we drown in sewage. In any case, if things go according to plan, you should receive this sometime Monday evening or Tuesday….Till then…

3 sets, from the past few weeks…

Set One (Denali)

Set Two (Fairbanks + Riverboat Tour)

Set Three (River Boat Tour)

Exhausted from a round of newpaper and TV studio interviews, I still feel compelled to share with my faithful readers the dramatic events which unfolded in the upper drainages of the Sustina River this morning.  For several weeks now the fishing has been poor, to say the very least.  In fact, the situation was getting so desperate that the Saturday morning fishing shows were refusing to film in the Mat-Su Valley.  In  a final attempt to turn things around, the Alaska Travel Cooperative agreed to fly in such angling luminaries as Lefty Kreh, Joan Wolff, Lou Tabory and a host of others hoping that if just one majestic king salmon was caught the magic would return.  To be brief about it, all the heroic efforts culminated in abject failure and each icon departed with an empty creel…..  And thus the stage was set for this morning’s adventure.  Arising at 2:45 AM to meet our guide at 3:30 PM, we then motored 50 miles north to Talkeetna where we boarded a jet boat and powered our way five or six miles up the river through the stabbing cold  The guide finally slowed the engine to ask me exactly where I thought we should cast our bread upon the waters.  Summoning my finely honed river reading skills I confidently pointed to a very fishy looking spot.  Strictly between the two of us, and despite the frustrations suffered by the aforementioned acclaimed anglers, I immediately hooked up.  Reluctant to embarass them in any way, I quietly put a bit of slack in the line and let the behemouth  wiggle and giggle and slip off the hook.   Time and time again, I deftly managed long line releases in an effort not to sully their reputations.  Finally, after an appropriate interval, I cried, “Fish On!!!”   Oh, what a fish it was!  Skillfully, I guided it through the raging torrent protecting my light 40 pound leader.  Time and time again, the bright and powerful 35 pound king made efforts to return to the sea from whence he had come 70 miles ago.  It was thrust and parry, but patience and superior skill finally led him to the net. (Pictures not available as personal photographer was fishing downstream) And so the long drought ended.  In itself, this would have been enough to etch the name of your’s truly in the pantheon of Alaskan anglers, but to prove the point, I nailed another king of 25 pounds or so.  (Pictures may be available despite technical difficulties)  Then, to great acclaim, I retired to the stream bank, satisfied that the lustre and attraction of the Mat- Su Valley had been restored…..  I can hear my guardian devil whispering, “Enough.  Enough!”  I assume he means enough fish, though I suppose less kindly souls might interpert it as “enough bull-hit!”…..  Now, Boys and Girls, here’s the true skinny.  The day was gorgeous, the small river beautiful, and the guide knowledgable.   Closely following his instrutions, I quarter cast my six inches of pencil lead and unbaited hook with plastic salmon eggs (”no more than two inches from said hook”) upstream and let the lead tick along the bottom setting on anything that might have resembled a snag.  For any of you who might think this sounds suspiciously like Pulaski, N.Y., you’re right on the $$$.  The guide swears the  kings strike the “bait” and the first fish actually did seem to hit it fairly hard, but my guess it that I lined his mouth.  Ditto, the second.  It ain’t my favorite kind of fishing, and in Pulakski I’ve failed to attain the competence of such snagging masters as Frank Rusczek and Mike Bartolotta who seemingly can perform this prodigous feat just seconds before said salmon is set to expire of natural causes.   Still, we had a fun time this morning, and by some perverse luck did “catch” two salmon.  Rather than looking for me on “Good Morning, America,” search for Dan Rather’s return— that might be about the same time I catch my next one!…..Otherwise, we’re having a good time in Houston, Alaska, notable primarily for a Deputy Mayor who hails from Houston, Texas.  But it’s also the fireworks capital of Alaska, or at least this part of Alaska, and the highway is crowded with fireworks stands— and plenty of customers….  Off to bed to dream dreams of landed salmon….

A lot of loose ends here, things I’ve thought of but never- at least to my rapidly failing memory- included in the blogs…. Weather:  Everyone talks about the weather, right?  Well, the sky in Alaska is tough to read for a small town boy from Connecitcut.  The cloud formations are just different.   Stratocumulus, or what I think of as stratocumulous, seems to predominate, but it’s not always a good indication of rain, though you could predict rain up here every day and not be too far off.  That’s not true, perhaps, in Fairbanks and some other northern areas, but elsewhere wear Gore Tex.  Another problem is the mountains.  They cause clouds to form overnight just about every night.  Sometimes, they clear off— at least for a while.  We’ve actually been fortunate according to tales we’ve heard from other folks who have come to believe the rain follows them around.  But since Thursday, June 29th we hadn’t had a completely sunny day till yesterday.  Today has been cloudy with a few breaks of sun since late afternoon.  Anyway, this place ain’t Phoenix!….If you’re thinking about RV’ing your way up the Alaskan Highway and then through the Last Frontier, wait a year or two if you want wi-fi.  More than a half dozen places we’ve stayed are either installing wi-fi or plan to install it during the off season.  In a couple years, all the non-government campgrounds will have it.  For me, with my inability to hear at all decently on the phone, it’s been a lifesaver, and a lot of other people really appreciate it.  In Dawson City, one women explained to me how she was making the arrangements for her mother’s funeral (back in Texas) on the computer.  I kid you not.  I gave her my condolences— in person….  Buy gas in a competitive city.  You need at least eight or ten gas stations before the gouging stops.  In one station towns you’ll surely get gouged badly.  I’ve been told that in many places coming up the Alaskan Highway there is one price for locals and another price for tourists, and it can be more than a dollar difference.  I have no idea if this is true.  In any case, in several towns in Canada we were paying more than $5.00 a gallon; that’s American dollars and American gallons….  There are some Alaskans, a goodly number in fact, who are downright unfriendly.  This is noticable most everywhere we’ve been since we arrived here. The tourist based folks are just as friendly and helpful as elsewhere, and in fact the guy who owns the campground we’re staying at now is, maybe, the nicest  and friendliest guy we’ve met on the trip.  Mine is not an isolated observation as Dave has noticed it, too, and a number of other RV’ers have made comments to the same effect  These folks I’m describing will not acknowledge a “good morning” if you walk by them and you’re the only person proximate  They keep to themselves, and I haven’t even seen the type I’m describing socialize with other Alaskans very often.  In a way, at least at a campground, it can be unnerving because it’s so much in contrast to the general conviviality of the RV’ers as a group.  But if you think about it, a lot of them are likely the social isolates who build a house at the end of a dirt trail ten miles from the nearest neighbor.  I’d have to say that even a cold Yankee makes these folks look absolutely frigid….  Alaska has great ice cream.  I’ve eaten way too much of it….  And the supermarkets, at least the big chains like Meyer’s and Carr’s, are spectaular, if expensive.  They have mouth-watering bakeries, delicatessans New Yorkers would drool over, top shelf meat departments, and fruit and vegetables from the world over.  Just bring a big-time credit card….  Denali tops all when it comes to prices.  It’s more expensive than the hotel district in Manhattan.  in fairness, like many other areas, they have to make all their money in a four month period, and almst two of those months ain’t all that great either.  Still, you have to behold the prices to appreciate them.  There are no markets where you can buy even hot dogs or hamburger within about 50 miles.  Some people swear this is a conspiracy to force you into a restaurant.  I’m not sure, but the restaurants are doing a good business….  Sticking with Denali for a minute, if you go, and you’re not a real wilderness fan, stay outside the park or at Riley Campground which is just inside the park gates.  Otherwise, you can’t get in or out of the campground where you’re staying for things like rafting, flightseeing, or even going into the park presentations that are held in and around the Visitor’s Center.  The good thing about staying in the park, though, is you can’t get out to fuel the tourist economy mentioned above…..  Yesterday, our guide on the fishing trip was personable, knowledgeable, and patient with his sports. We have been told, however, that “he thinks he owns the river.” Sure enough, we got to see him in action.  Dave was taking a break on the river bank and four guys, who had hiked a couple miles thorugh the brush, and I mean brush, from the sandbar where they had camped the night before, moved into his spot.  The guide immediately confronted them.  In his defense, he was right as fishing ethics go, but his style left more than a bit to be desired.  it never got farther than a shouting match, but the fourth guy who was fishing with us later reassured me greatly by patting his hip and pointing out that he was packing heat….  Alaskan TV does not have as many cartoon channels as Canadian…..  If some of the stuff in this blog tend to the negative, let me assure you that it hasn’t diminished our fun at all…..  And that leads me to friends.  It’s my so-called buddies who are causing me to lose faith in my fellow beings!!!  Buddies all right!  Instead of accepting last evening’s blog at face value, they are demanding PICTURES.  All I can say is, ye of little faith make Doubting Thomas look like a True Believer.  A good story is a good story and the pictures be damned!….  Tomorrow, it’s on to Anchorage where we meet up with Charmi on Wedesday.  I sure hope she recognizes me with my new Mohawk hair cut and sealskin parka to say nothing of my gold tooth and walrus tusk earring….  Hope you all are doing well;  I’m lookin’ great!…

 

Anchorage Daily News:  July 12.  The Alaska Department of Fish and Game (ADF&G) today announced they have reached agreement with a Connecticut angler to restrict his capture of  salmon.  On Sunday, in less than five hours of stream time, the angler in question managed to land two huge king salmon.  As dedicated fisherpersons know, on average it requires thirty hours of hard fishing to catch a king, though that time can be approximately halved with the assistance of a guide.  Though a guide had been retained, in this instance it appears the angler was guiding the guide.  When contacted, the ADF&G admitted that they were concerned that “one person with this level of skill could single-handedly decimate the rebounding salmon stocks.   We are pleased that the individual is a superb sportman and has consented to release all salmon he doesn’t keep.  Additionally, he has agreed not to reveal his cutting edge techniques to other anglers or to photograph the specimens he releases.”… Like a whirlwind moving from Talkeetna to Houston and on to Anchorage, Carl H. Sundell is a man on the move.  The “Daily News” outdoor editor was finally able to snag Mr. Sundell at the Anchorage RV Park where he is taking a break from piscatorial pursuits.  With his usual modesty, Mr. Sundell admits he is a born fisherman.  “Back in Connecticut they call me ‘Catchin’ Carl’ but I’d like to give credit to a lot of the fellows I fish with— mostly for staying out of my way.”  While Sundell is restricted from revealing the secrets to his success, it’s apparent that intellgence and a consummate knowledge of the angling arts play a big part.  “I make my own luck,” Sundell says.  He agreed to the  ADF&G restrictions when he came to the same realization as the ADF&G, namely that at the rate he was catching there would be no salmon left for the end of his vacation.   Also, he has been joined by his wife of 34 years and is busy feting her at the finest area restaurants.  But while Mr.Sundell has put away his rods temporarily, he is now engaged with his bride trapping bears on the campground when foreswearing epicurean delights.  Modesty moves to the forefront again as he admits that if he does catch a bear, he’ll allow his wife to release it. “I love to share with others,” he avers.  “It’s going to hurt that I have two buddies joining me on the Kenai Peninsula in August and won’t be able to show them exactly what to do.  Neither one of them is much of a fisherman, but with my assistance at least they might have managed not to hook themselves.”  But the creel should be full long before that as Sundell has additional salmon and halibut trips scheduled prior to their arrival…..   We are proudly nominating him for Alaskan Angler of the Year.  Even if he were not to catch another fish, he’s proven himself  at least the equal of the best of the Last Frontier.” A noted Shakespearean scholar, we honor Mr. Sundell with these words form Julius Caesar:  ”Why, Angler, he doth wade the fishing world/  Like a Lefty Kreh, and we petty bait fishers/ Stand in the shadows of his arcing casts/ And search about to find ourselves a watery grave.”….Can there really be folks back on the States that need pictures????

 

Faithful Readers:  I’m sure you all anticipated the blog slow down once Charmi joined us in Anchorage.  In part, this was due to our separation of six weeks and the need to catch up on the latest doings back home.  Beyond that, Dave and I needed to do some real sightseeing so Charmi would think we were getting our money’s worth and not just collapsing at the end of each day’s travels.  But ultimately, all of you who know me well, have already figured I was wining and dining her at Anchorage’s finest establishments.  And so it was.  On Friday, after wonderful tours of the Federal Land Administration Building (scintillating) and the Museum of History and Art (not bad either), Charmi chose an attractive reindeer hot sausage wagon as THE place to eat.  While time doesn’t permit a full review here, and Charmi iniitially indicated she’d like to eat at a fancy crab restaurant, the Chowder House, that looked a bit expensive to me since they had painted the place in the last ten years, I’d still like to cover this delightful lunch in a some detail The lunch wagon was operated by a lovely young women, who served as maitre-d’, chef, waitress, and  cashier.  The wagon itself was largely stainless steel and looked as if it had been cleaned recently.  The reindeer sausages came in either regular or hot.  This limited menu allowed the delightful young lady to concentrate on doing just a few things well.  Unfortunately, this delectable delight was served on “just plain old buns,” as Charmi described them.  A full complement of condiments was avalable and, at no extra charge, you could get some chunks of hot pepper with the sausage,  so I did.  Therefore, I cannot tell you how the reindeer sausage tasted.  On the side, I had  Dorito’s, in a new red bag (small) which were as crunchy and delectable as back in the States.  To get the pepper burn out of my mouth/throat/esophogus/stomach, I had a classic Coke.  While seating was available on the curb, or on the patio of the Chowder House, we chose to eat in the truck with background music from one of the local evangelical churches on Dave’s 8-speaker Dolby system, but it was unfortunately tuned to AM with lots of static caused, I assume, by the church steeples.  I thoroughly enjoyed the repast and would have had dessert if the meter hadn’t run out.  I didn’t really mean to toss the wrappers on the sidewalkand the cop probably never would have noticed had one of the coke cans not clanged off some old guy’s wheel chair.  That little faux pas cost me $200.00 for littering bringing the meal total to $206.25.  Under the circumstances, I didn’t leave a tip.  There were no court costs….  We put Anchorage in the rearviews the next morning and have been in Seward the past four days.  Since it rains here every day they have no weather bureau.  We did hike to Exit Glacier on Sunday, and this proved fairly interesting, but the best of the best here in Seward was a marine cruise we took yesterday highlighted by a gastronomic belly-buster called an all-you-can-eat salmon and prime rib buffet.   Surprisingly, it was quite good.  I am also happy to report that I did not fall off the ship, in part because the cruise was significantly altered due to fog— which also made viewing any sea lfe more than two feet outside the portholes very difficult.  Anyhow, again this evening we headed out on the town, this time to the Crab Pot Restaurant, which has prices like Ruth’s Chris but serves stuff hauled out of the harbor by the ton just a few blocks away.  After I get rid of this indigestion I’ll tell you how much fun I had picking the exoskeleton out of my king crab….  Till then….

The pictures have arrived and we should be able to wrap up the debate over Carl’s salmon stories. Below is a set of 3 photos of the second fish ‘caught’. Forensic analysis proves that this evidence has not been altered in any way.

Is that a bear swimming in the water? A log? I’m not sure.

Well, I recognize that hat. At least my father was actually on the stream the day in question. I think the guy in the white hat just threw a large rock into the water.

This is our proof? I’ve seen clearer pictures of Big Foot!

I have a ton of other pictures that I’ll be posting as soon as I have a chance, so check back soon!

-dan

Matsu
Salmon
Delaini from Talkeetna
Anchorage Zoo
Earthquake Park
Ships Creek
Botanical Garden
Downtown Anchorage
Native Indian Cultural Center
Seward

Carl & Charmi at a Glacier

If you’ve been following the blog at all, you know that Alaska is expensive. You have a pretty good idea how tourists help keep it that way. But how did it all start, and what else fuels the economy ? The answer to that question is probably simpler here than most geographic or governmental areas, despite the relatively large mass of land. Part of this relates to the small population, only about 600,000 residents….. Anyway, to start from somewhere near the beginning, the First Nation folks (Athabascans, Inuits, etc.) crossed the Bering Strait about 12,000 years ago. Fairly quickly they thinly distributed themselves throughout what is now known as Alaska— and beyond for that matter, including quite probably most of North and South America. For well over 11,000 years the First Nation people remained hunter/gathers living close to nature and inhabiting, but not uniting or “developing”, in any real sense, fairly discrete geographical areas. Then, along came the Russians, possibly as early as the 17th century, primarily interested in furs, and who claimed the territory as their own. So Alaska became an area to be trapped and hunted for it’s many different and available fur bearers. Gradually, the Americans moved into the fur trade, and Russia, sensing that in the longer term that it could not sustain against the American influence, sold “Seward’s Icebox” to the U.S. just after the Civil War. Still, there was no significant migration to the area until the gold rushes that began in the 1890’s. But gold quickly brought adventurers of all descriptions and small cities and towns developed, mostly on rivers to which supplies could be shipped or in areas where gold was discovered. Many of the towns went from boom to bust in a matter of a couple years. Overnight, gold seekers would pull stakes and move on to more promising claims. But, in fact, some folks stayed and settled down and present day cities like Fairbanks, Skagway and Nome got their start. Other mineral discoveries such as copper and coal kept the extractive industries active if not thriving. Along with commercial salmon fishing, and the still present fur trade, this provided the “pioneers” with jobs. But growth, after the gold rush, remained modest till World War II….. The Japanese threat (Unalaska in the Aleutians was actually attacked by Japan) refocused attention on Alaska. The Alaskan/Canadian Highway was built in nine months in 1942 and provided the first land route from the U.S.to Alaska. The military also built a number of army (Ft. Richardson, Wainwright) and air bases (Elmendorf, Eielson) as well as Coast Guard facilities (Ambercrmbie on Kodiak). The U.S. government also provided homesteading incentives to draw farmers to the Mat-Su Valley to grow food for the troops. All this not only provided new transportation possibilities and jobs for the civilians, but, following the war, many veterans returned and settled in the land they had come to love…. By the late 1930’s, the possibility of oil in that there ice was beginning to draw the attention of both the major and independent oil companies. Visions of oil may have been the driving force behind statehood for Alaska (and the associated bureaucracy), which was finally achieved in 1959, but the oil industry really didn’t become paramount until the late 60’s or 70’s, and is primarily identified with the development of the oil pipeline from Seward ( an ice free port) to Prudhoe Bay. In some sense, oil continues king in Alaska and major skirmishes are taking place every day pitting the oil interests and job creation advocates against environmentalists and just plain folks who consider further oil exploration inimical to their Alaskan dreams, mostly owing to the idea that oil has put Alaskans on the “welfare dole” since most taxes are covered by oil royalties and each Alaskan resident receives an oil check annually. This year’s governor’s contest revolves mostly around oil issues, though the personal honesty of the incumbent is also a factor. (Something new, huh?)…. Over roughly the past thirty years, tourism has risen to it’s present position of eminence. Whole sectors of the state are almost entirely dependent upon tourists (and associated activities such as fishing, river rafting, museum going, kayaking, railroading, sea life cruises, gambling, theatre, restaurants, and on and on, right on down to bird watching— or for you birders, right on up….. This is just a thumbnail sketch, but there you have it: hunting/gathering, fur, gold, commercial fishing, extractive minerals, military, government, oil, and tourism….Alaskans feel that though the years they’ve been taken advantage of and have little to show for all that’s been removed from the state— and they certainly have a point. As a territory, they got few benefits from Washington, but Washington protected the companies that were extracting their resources. So what’s the point of all that I’ve written thus far? Simple. It’s payback time! That’s the reason all these tourists are being soaked!!!…. Charmi leaves tomorrow, so I’ll be a bit lonely for a while. To help me forget, I’m headed on an all day charter on a 44 foot Viking, shall we say, fishing boat or motor yacht. I hope to be back to you soon with some more fishing stories. I know you all just can’t wait!!!

Monday morning, or more accurately, Sunday night, I rolled out of the sack at 3:00 AM, quickly washed, dressed to the nines in my finest, and driest, saltwater gear, and began the 78 mile drive in a light drizzle to Homer, “the halibut capital of the world,” for the long awaited halibut/ silver salmon fishing trip. As soon as I stumbled out the trailer door, I realized the trip might be in jeopardy as the wind was gusting around 20 to 25 miles per hour. This is fairly unusual here. Though there has been almost constant cloudiness, there hasn’t been much wind. As we began the drive, I waited for the cell phone to ring with notification that the trip had been canceled. It doesn’t happen, and in fact, the winds seemed lighter the further south we drove on the Kenai Peninsula, though since the trees available to gauge the strength of the wind were often stunted black spruce, appearances may have been deceptive…. We reached Homer with plenty of time to spare for our 6:00 AM rendezvous with Captain Bryan Bandioli and the Ashtikan, a 44 foot sport fishing boat, so we grabbed a cuppa before hiking out to the slip, where our fellow ship mates were already waiting. They were two couples from Florida who have fished repeatedly with Bryan, and were effusive in his praise. But Bryan and the “Ashtikan” were late arriving. Small talk ensues. It turns out that both of the Florida guys own boats, a 34 foot Luhrs (Hewett would approve of that) and a 26 foot Sea Cat (what I always wanted!) and are veteran saltwater big game fishermen targeting primarily marlin and sailfish though they admit to chasing kings and just about anything else that swims…..Bryan finally arrived with the boat about 6:30. Immediately, I liked the cut of his jib. He just had winning personality and looked like he belonged on the water. When you’re picking guides out of a brochure, no matter how many e-mails and phone calls are made, you still feel like it’s a crap shoot. Without much ado, we were off. One thing I did notice as we boarded, however, was that the canvas flying bridge in the brochure photo had been replaced by a new and totally enclosed rigid cabin. I’d soon figure out why….Bryan made a quick vow to put us on fish and scrambled up to the wheelhouse. We steamed southwest out of Kachemak Bay and past the protection of the east end of the Kenai Peninsula, which was affording some protection from the wind. In fact, in the Homer harbor the waves were about a foot at most, then in Katchemak Bay the seas were no more than two to three feet, but after we cleared the last of the land past Port Graham and Nanwalek—surprise, surprise— we were rocking and rolling in eight foot stuff. The Floridians proved their mettle, and trust in Bryan, by sleeping through the whole trip out, a total run of about two hours…. Now many of us who fish have been in eight foot seas, but traveling through them, not trying to stand at a rail of a 44 footer and fish. But the time had come to fish, and I found myself lunging about the cabin for a handhold, stumbling from the cabin into the cockpit by grabbing the flybridge ladder, and then sliding into place along the non-padded coaming at t the stern without falling (barely) into the icy Gulf of Alaska, or wherever the hell we were. The low stern was better suited to a fighting chair than stand-up jigging with, get this, six pounds of lead at the end of the line. But the lead got us down the 170 necessary feet, though Bryan commented that the terminal tackle was at least a hundred yards behind the boat and I was soon to believe him. It only took about five or six minutes before John, of the Luhrs, hooked up, and about two minutes later while he was still in the beginning stages of his wrestling match, I hooked up. I was honest-to-God confused for a while as to whether my primary objective should be to land the fish or stay in the boat. It seemed impossible to do both as we pitched and rolled and I tried to press my knees and thighs into the non-existent stern, at least non-existent at the level of my knees. Folks, halibut fishing is just like they say, “hauling up the anchor.” You feel the head-jerk that you get with fluke, but otherwise it’s just dead weight, though very occasionally you feel some resistance as they make what vaguely might be called a run. I saw none jump. While I was deciding whether to pitch the rod overboard, hand it off to the mate, or continue my inglorious ballet aimed mostly at survival, though I did crank the reel a bit, John landed our first halibut of the day. According to the mate, it probably weighed in around 25 pounds, a mere “chicken” in the parlance. At the other extreme is a “shooter,” a fish over a hundred pounds that’s plugged with a pistol before hauling it over the gunnels so noone gets hurt by the thrashing fish. Some “shooters ‘ go two or three hundred pounds and are referred to as “barn doors,” the appellation needing no explanation but I would add that barn doors I’ve handled are a lot lighter than these halibut. Anyway, I’m making progress slower than I probably should with my shiny Penn International, designed to whip swords, sharks, and marlin. By now, I wished I was wearing a fighting belt like the one women who was fishing and also one of the guys, neither of whom looked like they missed too many meals, though both were big rather than obese.(I never did put on the belt, though it was foolish conceit, as I went mano a mano a la Hemingway, though he committed suicide in Idaho, if I recall correctly). My sinewy forearms were already tiring and my bulging biceps were crying for steroids. Bryan was the epitome of patience, however, and when I dragged the “monster” close enough for the mate to gaff and swing over the rail, imagine my surprise to find the monster of the deep SMALLER than John’s I was too tired to ask how much it didn’t weigh. But with an air of practiced nonchalance, I slipped and slided and skidded and banged across the deck and tried to hide on the starboard livewell, which, positioned against the cabin, made a satisfactory seat, of sorts. I quickly fired up a cigarette before the ever attentive mate could re-bait the hook, though it was a close call given his eagerness. By now, all four of us who were fishing for halibut had at least hooked up one and landed, or were in the process of, landing it. Mistaking my momentary relief for enthusiasm, the mate soon had me back in the rotation, and damned if one of these nefarious halibut didn’t attach itself to the hook I was trying to make sure never reached the bottom, which is the only place they are supposed to be available for attachment. So I plastered a grin on my rapidly tiring face and worried if the muscle use would sap the little remaining strength in those no longer sinewy and muscular arms. My aching hands began to crank the reel, at least when I thought anyone was watching. In smiling agony, I whipped the brute in no more than five or ten or twelve interminable minutes. This time I had no energy for nonchalance so I simply crawled across the deck and collapsed in a steaming heap of sweat on my old friend the livewell. As if on cue, I heard Bryan sing out merrily, “We have six licenses on board so we can take eighteen halibut.” I figured maybe we had seven so far. As I glanced at the frothing waves and listened to the wind whistle through my sure-to-fail-shortly hearing aides, I saw the mate headed my way and I had barely put the match to my cigarette. Dutifully, I resumed the rotation, this time at the starboard position where there was a bit of knee grip available. However, the catching was picking up and I soon was back on the stern fearing for my life….. Things have been moving so fast I’ve not had time to fill you in on the intricacies of technique and proper pounds of lead with a hook below, and with a stinky sardine impaled thereupon, to the bottom, which you’ll swear is somewhere south of China. So you try to cheat and let the whole rig go whammo at the bottom, but the ever vigilant mate is lurking there to remind you that with the braided Kevlar line you might damage the equipment or commit other forms of anti-social behavior if you fail to follow the prescribed course of torture. Anyway, when you get it to the bottom, sometime around the sixth inning, there’s no seventh inning stretch on the horizon. You must immediately begin “jigging” this rig, which is something like bouncing a six pound yo-yo off the Fifth Avenue, or actually First Avenue, asphalt from the top of the Empire State building, cause the you-know-what ain’t any longer available for this simile. Of course, you’re doing this to attract the voracious halibut to your morsel of rotten sardine. Of course, by now you have come to the conclusion that a halibut can spot a morsel of sardine from two or three seas away and are faster than speeding seagulls in getting to the offal And again, and of course, retrospectively, I have to say that halibut make a bluefish feeding frenzy look like a sedate dining experience. So I am determined not to twitch a muscle never mind create a movement that might attract one of these devils of the deep. Already, I have slyly removed half the sardine from the hook as the mate begins to swing it over the side. A wave whacks the boat and I’m spun around. While trying to regain my footing as we wallow in a trough my eye is drawn to that fully enclose flying bridge that I now recognize as something akin to Ahab’s hidey hole. But there’s no time to ruminate as something tries to swipe the rod from my hand, and that something is you-know-who back for another sardine. By all that’s high and holy, I swear I don’t know how I’m gonna crank this one up. But crank it up I do…. Meanwhile, remember Kathleen Harris, folks, that classy Floridian that helped Dubya to the White House? Well, I’m at the rail rubbing biceps with her as she bellows out, “That’s four for me!” But quickly, I realize this can’t be Ms. Harris, as she makes Kathleen look like your high school sweetheart. Or maybe I’m being unfair, and just a teeny bit jealous, of her unflagging enthusiasm and inexhaustible supply of energy. But, man, this woman can fish. She got to four first, and to five first, but then retired to, yup, the livewell. On the matching opposite livewell, with a lighter weight rod, sat the second women, quietly and wisely fishing for silver salmon. The huge advantage here is you only have thirty or forty feet of line out and almost no weight attached. She is your high school sweetheart with a winning way of congratulating you each time the mate slides one of your halibut into the cockpit. She also has a winning way of nabbing silvers as when you ask how she’s doing, she says she thinks she has seven. My devious mind is conniving a way to wrest that rod from her hands, get a seat on that port livewell and take break from halibut cranking. I decide on a direct approach and ask if I can give it a try. Sweetly, she admits her arms are tired and surrenders the rod. Triumph, or so I think, until I fail to attract a silver in the next few minutes. But Bryan comes to the rescue, familiarizing me with another jigging technique, and adjusting the depth a bit and soon I’m fast to one. By now however, a silver feels as heavy as halibut-with-lead-attached though I do get it in up in a respectable minute or two. “Hey, Carl,” I hear the merry mate calling my name as he thrusts a halibut rod at me. So I’m back in the rotation. At this point, Bryan sidles up to me and quietly asks if I mind if we cut the trip short and he returns a few bucks to my badly depleted supply of greenbacks. I drop the rod on the deck and kiss him fully on the lips! Not really, but I’m willing to turn over my future state pension if he’d call a chopper and get me out of this halibut hell and back on to terra firma. He says everyone else has agreed, so I feign disappointment but acquiesce. He says only four more and we’ll have our halibut limit, and I stifle an audible groan….. I won’t bore you with the details of the apprehension and capture of the final four Osama Bin Halibuts, only to say that the Sunshine State folks graciously agree that I should catch number 18. I do, somehow, though it all seems blurry now….. At 10:20 AM we have completed our mission more or less. It has taken four of us about one hour and forty minutes to catch 18 halibut and, with the assistance of a fifth (person), nine silvers. Unbelievably, my contribution has been five halibut and one silver into the fishbox. Now comes picture time. I’d rather skip it and start homeward, but most of the halibut and a couple salmon are laid out on the cockpit deck and we sit tight on the gunnels as the mate climbs to the flybidge for a fine photo op. He promptly drops one camera, but miraculously it proves to be a Timex and keeps on clicking. A second camera won’t work and precious moments are lost as the wallowing of our good ship “Ashtikan” causes the line up to begin a maximum randomness experiment. But the mate keeps clicking away and the Kodak moment is soon over. It takes a couple hours to slosh our way back to port, but the seas lie down a bit as we begin to gain the lee cover of land. At the dock, we learn that only four boats from a fleet of something-zillion made it out to the Gulf of Alaska grounds this morning. Proudly, we all say goodbye and stagger up the dock to the Coal Point Fish Company where our catch has quickly been spirited. We keep a couple for dinner and to smoke, then agree to have the rest shipped home, thereby transferring the halibut problem to someone else— but shipping costs more than negate the rebate from Bryan, who, by the way is a great guy to book a trip with if you’re ever up this way….So there you have it, the halibut trip from hell, or, rather, Homer: “a quaint little drinking village with a big fishing problem.” For the record, we’re not going to win the Homer Halibut Tournament. Currently atop the leader board is a three hundred pounder. The biggest we managed weighed around 55 to 60 pounds, but that fish was in a class of it’s own. Most were in the 20 to 30 pound range with two about 40. I doubt that any I caught were over 30, thank heaven!…. I have a tiny Calvinist streak in me that whispers “work is good.” But if I had to work hauling up halibut every day, I swear I’d be down at the unemployment office in a flash!…. In August, I have two so-called friends, Dave Friez and Paul Glinski (impartial alphabetical order), flying up to join me on a halibut trip out of Seward. The water in Resurrection Bay should be a lot quieter, and the six pound weights replaced by sixteen ounces or maybe twenty four, but the principles will remain the same. My cogent advice to them is start working out! My left forearm and right bicep are still aching thirty six hours later…..While we were out on the halibut trip, the ADF&G closed the sockeye salmon fishing “temporarily,” so there’s no bank fishing at the RV park. On Thursday, though, Dave and I head out on a trip for kings on the lower Kenai River. Stay tuned for more spectacular action!!! But the halibut haunt me. I can’t wait to go again…..

Soldotna had a population of 0 in 1946. Yup, zero, an untouched forest of sorts, or at least unpeopled and unnamed, since the Dena’ina natives had vacated a century or more before, for whatever reason, but probably because they were tired of eating salmon. But then someone though a highway was needed to link the various unnamed and unpeopled areas of the Kenai Peninsula and so the bulldozers started their march from Cooper Landing, where the road had previously dead ended, around in a big crescent and on down to Homer, roughly 150 miles away but where 300 people did reside. The highway construction coincided with a homesteading act that allowed WWII vets, and then a few months later, most anyone, a chance to claim 160 acres by simply building a “house” and staying in it for seven months a year. Of course, there was no big land rush, but a few folks found their way and began to erect log slab cabins, standard size about 16′ x 20′. There was no electricity, and for years gasoline, for instance, because there were cars, was pumped by hand. There were no phones (though now it seems that every damn resident owns at least two of the cell variety). The phone didn’t arrive till the mid-50’s about the same time (1956) that electricity came to some parts of the berg. As far as I can tell, most of the residents, after they got their cabins erected, sat around arguing whether they lived in “SoldOtna or “SoldAtna.” The former triumphed in 1985, only under pressure from the feds who were felt the debate was getting a bit tiresome and wanted to put a name on the post office. This, despite the fact that oil was almost discovered, but natural gas really was, in 1957. Still, the town didn’t exactly boom, though the first bank arrived in 1959, and even a newspaper in 1960. But don’t let this fool you, a lot of those pioneers were still living in those slab log cabins, heating with wood and eating by kerosene lanterns and cursing the “O” in Soldotna. There’s a story, definitely not apocryphal, told one about one of the first pioneers to settle here that’s related in hushed and reverential tones. It seems that one Mac McGuire, formerly of County Donegal, had a serious type problem with a bear stealing his bacon from the cache outside his cabin. Other efforts failing, Mac got a slab of bacon, rind still on, and secured the bacon with several neat wraps of one end of a half inch rope. Then, he threaded the rope through window (no doubt he busted out a pane as I’ve seen Mac’s shack and the windows aren’t exactly double hung), across the room, and tied it to his ankle before retiring for the night. Sure enough, the bear stopped for his midnight sack, flitched the bacon, and started to run off. Said bear dragged Mac out of bed, across the room, thereby smashing an orange crate recliner, and slammed him into the wall beneath the window before Mac was able to break loose. So, keep in mind the type of individual who settled here as we fast forward to 2006. Now 3,700 gentle souls inhabit this small city that features a bridge crossing the mighty Kenai River. Yeah, it’s got government, and a McDonalds, and strip mall upon strip mall, and very good schools, but there’s only one real reason the place exists: SALMON— and mostly of the king and sockeye varieties. Anglers pilgramage from all over the world to cast a line and catch a king, or to cast many, many lines and catch a slew of sockeyes. No salmon, no town. It’s about that simple…..And that’s why I’m here, to catch a king, aka “jack.” So last Saturday, I spent untold dollars and nine glorious hours on the mighty Kenai with two attorneys from Frankfurt, Germany who had come here to catch a king they could mount. Under the expensive and able tutelage of a Kenai River Association Guide, we flailed away in the midst of four or five hundred other boats all stem to stern, gunnel to gunnel, and each loaded with three, or more often, four anglers. Only about 800 to 1,000 kings parade through these waters on any given day, and sometimes far fewer than that, so you don’t have to be a math whiz, or even a profound thinker like Mac, to see where I’m going with this. And so what did the three of us end up with at the end of nine hours? Nothing! But the big one got away, truly. Both of the other guys hooked up. In one instance we lost the king a distance from the boat. But just before closing time, Hans had one boatside three times, maybe just a tad too far for the guide to net, and then it wiggled and giggled and slipped off the hook. Absolute heartbreak! The poor guy was visibly upset till we got back to the dock an hour or so later. This is his second trip from Frankfurt to Soldotna, and the second time he’s flown home in disgrace. As he left, he vowed to the guide that he’d be back. Kings can do that to you!…. Now I’ve got a bit of Mac, and Hans, in me, so on Thursday, for only two thirds of the money I hired a guide for one half of the time of last Saturday and set out on my quest again. This time I was joined by Dave and a couple, Bonnie and Bob, from Minnesota. Our guide, pretty much a stand up comedienne, was aptly named Jeff King. And so it came to be. First Bonnie, then Dave, and finally me. It was only Bob for whom the lightening didn’t strike. But Bob is a veteran musky and walleye fisherman and he swallowed his disappointment with grace. The kings weren’t huge, the biggest being something under fifty pounds, but each gave a decent account of herself, eliciting joy and relief from all of us. I released mine but we brought Dave’s home and smoked part and have been eating suppers from the remainder since….. Meanwhile, back at the campground, the red, or sockeye, salmon is usually king, but not for the last nine days. A good part of Soldotna is given over to motels, campgrounds and RV parks. There are probably more people here— and they number in the thousands— seeking red salmon for the freezer than seeking the trophy king. As the sockeyes swim close to the river banks, they are relatively easy to catch, and unlike the kings and silvers a boat isn’t really necessary. This places a premium on river bank access The RV park where we’re staying, in addition to charging usurious rates, borders the river with a 900 foot boardwalk from which sockeye are usually harvested by the bushel roughly from mid July through late August. Not this year. The run of reds has been abysmal, so poor, in fact that a week ago last Friday the Alaska Department of Fish and Game banned fishing for reds in the hope that enough will escape upriver to spawn to avoid a total collapse of the fishery in future years. This ban has left the town brimming with unhappy people, many of whom journey here every year from far-flung corners of the States to do nothing but catch reds. With a bit of cooperation from the salmon, who finally seem to be returning in respectable numbers the last four or five days, the ban may be lifted early this week. As of a week ago, the run was only 20% of average, so a few anglers try to be understanding, though all are chomping at the bit, or more likely sharpening hooks, as there isn’t a whole lot else to do in Soldotna but fish. So that’s Soldotna, the “salmon Capital of the World.”….We’re here till Thursday morning so maybe we’ll get some sockeye fishing in yet. But on Wednesday, I venture forth with a guide and my flyrod to seek the elusive silver salmon. For those who just can’t live without another fish story, you don’t have long to wait….

Yeah, I guess I’m a contrarian. So here’s a rose, by some other name…. I want to begin by qualifying what I write here. It’s specific to the road system and areas we’ve traveled through, and at the times we visited. But there ain’t much fishing in Alaska, as far as I’ve seen, particularly as far as salmon are concerned…. Let’s start at the beginning. There are five species of salmon. Kings, also called chinooks and jacks, are the largest and the scarecest. They are also most sought after in many quarters. They can be caught with lures, live bait, and egg sacs, primarily in boats by back-trolling or back-bouncing by also by drifting, but there are a number of smaller rivers and streams where you can fish for them by wading or bank fishing. There’s one major impediment to fishing for them. The longer they are in fresh water, the less likely they are to hit a lure or bait. So, what’s the answer when this happens? Snag ‘em. In Clear Creek above Talkeetna that’s what folks were doing. In Ship’s Creek in Anchorage, same thing. Out here in Homer, ditto. There are a couple other places like the mouth of the Kasilof where it’s a mixed bag. Only in the lower Kenai and in the Susitna in the Houston area, have I seen people really fish for kings. I’ve made the point before that you have to put our time in to catch a king. The estimate from Alaska Department of Fish and Game is about 35 hour on average, and you can reduce that by half fishing with a guide. Like all salmon in fresh water the flesh begins to deteriorate but caught early enough on their upstream journey they are delightful to eat or smoke…. Next are coho salmon, also referred to as silvers. They will take a lure, at least when they are first in the rivers. I proved this, more or less, the other day in the mouth of the Kenai by catching three on flies. To do this however, I had to foul-hook about thirty or forty sockeyes, since the slivers and sockeyes swim together, or at least hang out together in pools and backwaters and it’s hard to get though the red to the silvers. But here in Homer, in the infamous Fishing Hole, I am told the silvers will only hit a lure for the first hour, maybe two, that that they are out of the salt and in brackish water. They are fished for here by dangling a bare hook under a bobber and, supposedly setting the hook when a silver swims into the line. Let’s say the jury’s still out, but silvers are sometimes caught on lures, flies, and egg sacs. How often is the question…. Then there are the sockeyes or reds. These are the favorite eating salmon for most people. However, they never hit a lure. Oh, there are a couple outdoor writers who swear they’ve caught one on a fly, but you can take that with a grain of rock salt as you brine your catch. These fish are great to eat, but they are apprehended by “lining” or by dipnetting in the salt or in the mouth of the rivers. At Russian River you must “fly fish” for them. You don’t need to use a fly rod or a fly line, but you must attach a fly as terminal tackle below your lead. Strictly speaking, this fish must be lined in the mouth to be kept. As far as I can see, most, but not all, people honor this stricture. So you can eat your sockeye, but you were “fishing” when you caught it only in the broadest sense of the term…. Next come the pinks, also called humpies due to the very pronounced hump they quickly develop in fresh water. These are the smallest of the salmon, averaging “only” four or five pounds, of the five species and are very abundant, comprising about 60% of the total of Alaskan salmon. Pinks are on the bite more than any of the other salmon and will readily take lures, flies and live bait. Very easily caught, they are considered the bluegills of the salmon family. In fact, they often interfere with fishing for other species and are considered a nuisance. This is probably unfair as they give great battle for their size. Unfortunately, they do not make good table fare after a couple days in the rivers, though some folks claim they are fine if grilled immediately after catching them. Like all salmon, they must be fished along the bottom of the river, but again, they’ll hit anything, so they are my heros, despite the scorn from most fishermen…. Last, and most of the folks up here would say least, are the chum or dog salmon. They earned the latter name as they are mostly fed to dogs. Absolutely terrible eating. I haven’t come across the chums yet so have no personal acquaintance with them, but am told they are bulldog battlers that don’t know the meaning of quit. Chums certainly will take a lure, and in recent years, folks are claiming that they’ll take a fly, but my guess is it’s a rare instance once they’ve been in a river a few days…. So there you have it folks. Five species, two that no one ever eats. Three that rarely hit a lure, fly,or bait. All of which have to be angled for by dredging the bottom with significant amounts of lead in most instances. Salmon don’t make for a fly fisher’s paradise. In fact, in terms of what we call fishing in Connecticut, they just don’t make the grade— unless you’re a Pulaski snagger!….Two comments made to me by other fishermen pretty much sum it up. A guy from Michigan up here for the first time with his three grown sons speaking of the number of people,especially fisherman said, “Hell, we came up here to get away from this. There are less people on the rivers back home. And from a guy from Texas who has visited here for nine straight years— and enjoys snagging the Homer Fishing Hole: I don’t really come up here for the fishing. I come up here (Alsaka) cause I think it’s the best place in the world. My wife and I stop in Montana on the way up and back to fish.” ….Yeah, you can fish Alaska and find salmon of most species that will take a fly or a lure in certain times and places without cossing lines with another angler. For that you’ll have to fly out to Bristol Bay or Iliamna or hit the Alagnak or someplace similar. You’ll pay $4,000 to $7,500 a for seven days and six nights, plus airfare. You’ll get fly outs and gourmet meals and —if you hit it right– have some great fishing. You can do it a bit cheaper by hiring a guide and roughing it, and maybe this is the real way to do Alaska. The limitations of my wheels keep me from wandering too far from the roads so maybe some folks get a little less crowded conditions, but I’m not sure about that. “Everyone”owns a float plane or a boat or both. Fishing in the boonies of Talkeetna, we boated eight impossible miles up the Susitna River to Clear Creek and for a few minutes I thought we were clear of the horde. Then we came around the final bend to Crystal Creek and there were twenty or thirty tents on a sandbar and maybe fifty boats. Good fishing holes don’t stay secrets up here very long. But the real problem is that the salmon migrate up the streams only at certain times and they are trailed closely by people and bears. If you don’t focus on the areas that are producing, you’re just wasting time. Please recall my experience on the Kenai for kings. There were an estimated 300-400 boats with guides and another 200 boats, or more, privately owned. There were many spots you could almost have crossed the mighty Kenai walking from boat to boat, ad it’s one wide river….. I’ll pause here to admit I’ve had a lot of fun fishing—sometimes. And I’ve caught some big fish All in all, I have to confess to a good time. Maybe i would be even happier if I could just follow the old adage, “When in Rome…” The halibut fishing and saltwater fishing in general is superb. There are grayling and pike and turbot and Dolly Vardens to pursue. Soon I’ll be fishing the upper Kenai for rainbows, and a lot of people have said it’s the best trout fishing they’ve ever experienced. Nothing short of spectacular. But today I’ve focused on salmon and fishing the road system. I’ve got one word: overrated! If I can have two words: way overrated!. Frank Rusczkek captured the whole scenario—and problem— beautifully. He wrote: “When you’re making love, do you stop to eat a sandwich?” …. Wanting to close on a more positive note, Alaska itself isn’t overrated. It’s beautiful, thrilling, magnificent, spectacular and on and on. One of the most beautiful spots in all the state is Homer, where we’ve resided for the past few days. Whether you like mountains or the sea, you’ll appreciate Homer. It’s on a gorgeous bay literally ringed by towering snow capped mountains, some recently volcanic. It bills itself as a “quaint little drinking village with a big fishing problem.” But it’s also a mecca for artists and artisans of all types. I could spend the whole summer here, happy as a released halibut…. Yesterday in the infamous Fishing Hole, which I’ve been denigrating, a seal was chasing around the silver salmon. If an angler hooked one up, and they were snagging plenty, he quickly zoomed in to steal it. It was a riot to watch! I was told that one day last summer eleven seals came in to gorge on the salmon. I wish I had been here…. Along with a couple photos of the Fishing hole, there will be a Tsunami warning sign posted with this blog. It’s only a few feet from the trailer. It’s for real, and so are the tsunamis here. One pretty much wiped out the Homer Spit a few years back. With Mt. Augustine, across the Katchemack Bay, spewing lava last January, folks pay attention to things like this up here. You have a plume from its summit to remind you… I’ll be out “fishing” tomorrow. You know, old dogs and new tricks….I’m different from most fishermen,

So let me tell you why.

Most fishers stretch their fish a bit.

I never magnify!

This past Tuesday evening we boarded the Alaskan Marine Ferry “Tustemena” for  Kodiak Island off the southern coast of Alaska.  Kodiak: as in bears, the grizzlies (brown bears) that are reputed to be a third larger than those on the mainland!  But that’s getting ahead of the story…..Owing to security checks, and the fact that Dave was bringing his bike which had to be loaded in the hold with trucks, cars, trailers, and in this instance, a huge backhoe, we boarded the ship at 8:30 PM for a 10:30 PM departure.  Boarding with us was the whole men’s and women’s cross country team from Wasilla High School about thirty adolescents strong.  The important thing here is that there are only eight cabins on this tub.  That means the vast majority of the 240 people aboard have to sleep in chairs or lying on the deck in sleeping bags or on blankets, which is what we did— proximate to the Wasilla students.  Their behavior was impeccable!  Still, I honestly didn’t get much sleep and we didn’t reach Kodiak till 11:30 AM on Wednesday….At the ferry landing, we inquired about a taxi, but all were engaged by those disembarking quickly, which we couldn’t do as we had to wait to get Dave’s bike out of the hold.  But someone told us the Best Western, where we were staying was “less than a half mile.”  Despite the fact that I was carrying my duffle with clothes and books, a backpack with waders, boots and assorted fishing rods and gear, as well as my computer, we decided to walk/bike.  Dave went ahead and dropped off his stuff and came back to help me.  For the first time in my life, when someone said “it’s only a half mile,” he or she was correct.  But when we got to the Best Western they were laughing because they have a courtesy van and were waiting for us to call!  And so it goes.  We went to bed exhausted…..  Because we went to bed early, we missed the call from our guide for Thusday and the trip got messed up.  We finally made connections and changed the trip to Saturday as he fortunately had an opening.  We used Thusday and Friday to see Kodiak ”city” and Dave did some biking around the island….  It is a gorgeous place, just as “emerald” as advertised.  The whole island is clad in plush green grasses and real trees, as opposed to the stunted spruce to which we have becaome accustomed.  The Kodiak folks boast that it’s greener than Hawaii, and so it may be.   They do have are a couple neat museums that trace the history of the native population and the damage from a volcanic erution and the tidal wave of 1964.  Actually, quite impressive for a small town…..  But Kodiak is mainly two things:  It has the largest Coast Guard base in the good ole USofA at about 1,500 Guardsmen/women, and almost 4,000 counting dependents.  They constitute a big percentage of the island’s population.  Second, they are also commercial fishermen/women.  You just can’t comprehend the number of fishing boats coming and going on a 24 hour basis almost.  It’s the largest fishing fleet in the United States, also, but they no longer have the highest tonnage by landings as that honor has been lost to Unalaska over the past decade.  But there are seiners, draggers, set netters, pursers, crabbers, long-liners and who know what else. Literally hundreds and hundreds of boats.  A colorful crew, and a typical waterfront town.  Plenty of bars.  A couple canneries and packers.  Quite a place…..  On Saturday. we went on the postponed ATV/fishing trip.  Our guide, Mike O’Neal, spent 28 years in the Coast Guard, as many of those 28 years  as he could wrangle on Kodiak Island.  He’s a man in love with the place where he lives.  The Cof C couldn’t invent a bigger booster!  Anyway, he picked us up at the Best Western with trailer and ATV’s in tow.  We only got a few miles out of town when a deer darted right in front of the truck and we hit it.  Somehow, the deer managed to get back on it’s feet and into the grass and brush.  So we started a second time and proceeded about 15 or 20 miles before parking at a trail to Saltery Cove. Mike unloaded the ATV’s and gave us a quick rundown on their operation and we were off. We went sixteen miles  including along an old river bed, then up a mountain and down the other side to the Saltery River maybe a half mile above the cove.  We climbed obstacles you’d never believe, unless, of course, you’ve used one of these machines before— which I hadn’t.  The most amazing thing about the ATV’s is the suspension system.  You get a relatively smooth ride over the harshest washboard trail and even two foot depressions.  We were actaully driving along streambeds at times that were probably 18 inches deep, and maybe more like two feet in spots.  We shot up shale shelves that looked virtually perpendicular, though I’m sure they weren’t and plunged down muddy banks almost as steep.  But even on the smoothest trail sixteen miles is a long way, so we broke it up a bit looking for wildlife.  We saw cousins of the deer we’d hit earlier, fox, eagles, buffalo (more about which later) and wild horses grazing the grasslands where we fished.  We even saw fresh bear tracks, and they had to be really fresh as it was raining at this point, but no bears.  Thwarted again!  But the wild horses were certainly beautiful to watch.  Best of all, though,  were the buffalo.  A herd of a hundred to a hundred and fifty grazed placidly across the river keeping seemingly unconcerned as we fished.  But this “river” was only thirty feet wide and averaged less than two feet deep.  At times, the buffalo were scarcely a hundred feet from us.  The herd has thrived as it has no natural predators.  Even the famed Kodiak bears don’t seek them out as the buffalo circle the wagons in a protective fahion and face the grizzlies down.  It was just a thrilling experience!….  As far as the fishing was concerned, the river was paved with salmon.  Devoted blog readers know I’ve been less than happy having to “snag” salmon.  Well, most of the salmon here were pinks and they will actually take a fly.  However, there were so many of them that it was often impossible to retrieve the line without foul hooking one.  But I caught a few that whacked the fly and so was happy.  The pinks were mixed in with reds, and Mike amused himself by lining a couple to take home to smoke.  Again, I had a day where my arms were tired, or at least would have been had we not quit after a couple hours.  For the edification of those keeping score, the pinks, aka humpies (though these were so new to fresh water that the humps had not yet developed in most instances), averaged about five pounds, maybe six.  The reds that Mike caught I’d have estimated about seven to eight pounds….  On the way out, we stopped by a mountain lake where the salmon were spawing and then an old abandoned ranch up on the mountainside.  All in all a great day.  Mike is a real nice guy, the rain stopped and we enjoyed bright sun, and the ATV’s are just real fun…..  Saturday night we left Kodiak on theM/V Kennicott, a larger vessel than we had come over on and we were able to hire a cabin.  Its about 400 feet in length with an 85 foot beam.  With stabilizing fins, it provides a smooth sail, though the twin 6,500 HP engines did seem to vibrate the ship a bit.  Still, a pretty boat, fairly new having been launched in 1999, and meticulously maintained.  Yet, the turntable that assists in loading the cars/boats/trailers/bikes/backhoes/u-hauls and just about anything else you can imagine, busted while loading in Kodiak and caused our departure to be delayed about two hours.  We arrived in Homer at 9:30 AM Sunday, a bit late, but glad we had ventured a bit off the mainland…..  A recommended side trip for anyone traveling up here! 

Monday evening Dave Friez and Paul Glinski arrived in Anchorage without problem or delay anticipating a week of fast and furious fishing in Cooper Landing. We were mostly slated to fish the mighty Kenai River whose aquamarine waters flow from a glacial lake of the same name and supposedly are home to rainbow trout and Dolly Vardens of significant size…. Tuesday afternoon we headed out for our first of three guided fishing trips with John and Heather Pearson, the proprietors of Kenai-Fish-N-Float . John, a lanky and laconic guy, hails from Colorado. Right after high school, he followed his dream to Alaska with his best buddy. Shortly after arriving he got a job guiding out of Gwin’s Lodge where he was to meet his future wife, Heather. She’s a stream ecologist, with a brilliant smile (and, guys, let your imagination do the rest), from North Carolina where she chased stripers and brook trout with her dad. Anyway, by that point, Dave and Paul had recovered enough to drag themselves to the boat. As John rigged, up three spinning rods, we began to develop side bets on first-fish, biggest-fish, most-fish, a bet that would endure through the week. Starting from the bridge at Kenai Lake the fishing was solid, though not spectacular. We landed some nice dollies and a few ‘bows. As a bonus, we had an eagle fly within ten or so feet of our boat three times as it unsuccessfully tried to pick up a flailing bait fish from the water just below us. A perfect photo opportunity was missed as we fumbled for our cameras. As the drift to the Russian River haul out continued, the pace was to pick up a bit with the rainbows becoming more numerous than the dollies, a trend we were to note throughout the week. We finished the afternoon satisfied with several fish in the twenty inch, and above, range. Due either to failing memory or to inflated egos, the debate over who won what category continued into the evening. As we “refined” the rules, we agreed Dave had caught the first, Paul the largest, and the most-fish category was too difficult to determine….. Early Wednesday found us back for an all-day float but using fly rods this time. From the start, the fishing was spectacular. Carl began the day with stunning brilliance, but soon the fish-gods frowned on him for throwing a butt in the glorious Kenai. Meanwhile, the fishing for Dave and Paul was to pick up and continue throughout the trip and reach the point of superlatives. We caught a number of dollies and rainbows above twenty inches all accounted for by others than yours truly. Dave managed to capture a 24 1/2 inch dolly and contended with a huge sockeye. It was fishing about as good as you’re gonna get. Even Carl recovered just before the haul out, nailing a nice rainbow in front of a gathered crowd….. Thursday found us up at 4:30 for a combination silver salmon/halibut trip out of Seward. We steamed SSE out of Resurrection Bay for a bit over an hour on the Pro-Fish-N-Sea with Cap’n Kevin, a biology major and football player at Idaho with an eye to graduating next May, at the helm. Also aboard were fellow Texans’s and friends, Jim And Wilbuh (pronunciation their’s). At a point the sonar indicated water fecund with silvers, we began drifting bait in about 70 feet of water at a depth of forty feet. The salmon ranged roughly from five to ten pounds, and most of us soon had our limit of three, though one of our group snagged two of his and anther had to be reminded by the Captain that the Captain could already be home with his girlfriend if said angler would catch his first!…. We then began another sail of over two hours south into the Gulf of Alaska to the halibut grounds. We may have all been turning a bit green at the gills except the day developed into a bright sunny affair with absolutely no wind. I would approximate wave height at one inch! This is particularly remarkable in that I’ve spent six days in Seward previously and it rained every one of them! Additionally, it’s been pretty much raining consistently all week… Kevin warned us as we motored out that we would be targeting halibut for “quality, not quantity” and therefore we might not catch our limits of two per person. He was to prove prophetic. After about two hours of angling only Paul had landed a fish, a nice halibut of over twenty pounds. At this point we’re going to fast forward to the last hour and a half of the trip when the pace picked up and the Texans earned themselves the sobriquet “fish hogs.” Paul caught a second halibut along with a lingcod and Dave caught a lingcod and finally a halibut. At some point the Captain indicated we had a lot of poundage on board and suggested we switch to releasing fish or just call it a day. As each successive fish was caught though, Jim would yell up to Wilbuh, “Do we want to keep it?” Wilbuh would unfailingly answer in the affirmative, thereby alienating the Captain. Final totals looked something like this: Six halibut caught, one released (much to Wilbuh’s dismay) and two lingcod, one retained….. It was, all in all a great day of fishing and we returned home wearied but content…. Friday we recuperated, but Saturday 7:00 AM we were back on the Kenai with John. This time we got off to a splendid start catching a dozen of nice dollies in no time at all. Maybe it was the rain that had persisted throughout the week (excepting Thursday) and tainted the water brown, but the rainbows had mostly disappeared. We did catch a few, but mostly of smaller size. Still, on balance, we finished the week as happy and successful anglers….. Oh yeah, the bets. After much negotiation we arrived at the final tally: Paul 7, Dave 5, and Carl 3. There will be plenty of time for revision as we head into Shetucket salmon season!… All the fishing left us little time for sightseeing, though most of the gang headed to Soldotna on a shopping trip and made a drive to Skilak Lake yesterday afternoon. Dave and Dave hiked the trail to the bear observation platform at Russian River Falls. Tomorrow Paul heads back to Connecticut to share his exploits in person, while Dave continues on with us to Skagway an another angling opportunity. A great time was had by all!!! Pictures to follow….

A Picture is Worth 182 Pounds!

Carl “Shooter” Sundell nailed this halibut 40 miles out in the Gulf of Alaska while fishing with Dave Friez and Paul Glinski on the Pro-Fish-N-Sea on Thursday, August 17th. When it was weighed in Seward six hours after capture, it tipped the scales at 182 pounds and measured 5′ 10″ . Savants at the weigh-in indicated that the fish had lost 10% of it’s weight in the interim. As phony as the result may sound, you do the math…. The “Shooter” that’s now my middle name derives from the fact that any halibut too large to be taken alive onto a boat safely is shot with a .410 to the brain before being brought aboard. A fish that size is also referred to as a “barn door” for obvious reasons…. Just to lend a sense of proportion to the size of the fish in a comparative way, if this fish had been entered in the Homer Halibut Derby, the largest fishing derby in Alaska, it would be the second largest fish thus far for the month of August. However, please note that the leader weighs 312 pounds!…. All this must be considered from a number of perspectives. Try these on for size. Scenario 1: Sundell is an able angler who puts in his hours on the water and earns his luck. He researched available charters carefully, and chose wisely. With aplomb and finesse, he enticed the halibut to the hook. He played the fish with considerable skill and panache. It’s not at all surprising that someone of his competence caught this lunker. Scenario 2: Dave planned the Alaskan journey; Charmi booked the charter; Cap’n Kevin put the boat over fish and baited the hook; Carl did manage to identify there was something making his rod jiggle and did reel (very slowly) the fish up most of the necessary 300 feet; however, he was kindly assisted by Dave Friez and received moral support from Paul; Cap’n Kevin administered final rites and hauled the fish aboard, with some help from Carl. In summary, Sundell is one lucky son of a gun who could barely hold on to the rod!….. Please comment to the blog and register your vote— or alternative scenarios….

Gold! We leapt from our benches,

Gold! We sprang from our stools.

Gold! We wheeled in the furrow,

Fired with the faith of fools.

We landed in wind swept Skagway.

We joined the weltering mass,

Clamoring over their outfits,

Waiting to climb the pass…..

Robert Service

“The Trail of ‘Ninety-Eight”

Kenai River (23)
Cooks Inlet (4)
Unknown (147)
Homer (106)
Cooper Landing (74)
Russian River Falls Trail (18)
Juneau Falls - Resurrection Trail (3)
Skilak Lake, Sterling Hwy (21)
Kenai Lake Overlook (16)
Glenn Hwy - Palmer to Tok (8)
Tok, AK to Haines Jct, Ca (16)
Approaching Whitehorse (3)
Skagway Ferry and Haines Eagle Museum (20)
Haines Museum and Fetty back to Skagway (22)
White Pass RR (21)

This is a blog about heading home, but thinking of my home state reminded me of a scene in Woody Allen’s “Small Time Crooks” where an oily hustler offers to ‘help’ a couple of newly wealthy ignoramuses, one of them Woody Allen, with their cultural education.  “Is there ANYTHING you would like to learn,” he asks?  Woody reluctantly replies, “Well, I always wanted to learn how to spell Connecticut.”  (Jeez, and my problem was always Massach-up-there-above-us….)
So….  It’s Saturday, and we’re in Whitecourt, Alberta, about an hour west of Edmonton.  We left Alaska on Wednesday.  As you will recall, our trip into Skagway was enlivened by a dense fog in the mountains that slowed our travel to about five blind miles per hour for about ten miles or so.  For that reason, we were hoping for a clear day to leave, and we got it.  The fog was there but several hundred feet above the road we were traveling.  We passed through the Canadian border check quickly and without causing an international incident.  Just a mile or two further, we came across a black bear standing on the shoulder of the road, and he posed for us till we came abreast of him at which point he lumbered into the brush.  So, it might have been a delightful goodbye except we slogged the rest of the day in rain, the same rain we contended with throughout our Alaskan stay.
We spent Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday driving down the Alaska Highway through the Yukon, British Columbia, and, now, into Alberta.  [ For those of you corresponding on the computer, we’ve crossed two time zones and are now on Rocky Mountain Time, only two hours behind, how-do-you-spell-Connecticut.]  It must be National Wildlife Week in Canada!   Close-up, we have seen bears, numerous herds of caribou along and in the road partially blocking traffic, mountain goats, stone sheep, elk, moose, deer, coyotes, foxes, several herds of buffalo, some of them placidly grazing at the edge of the highway seemingly oblivious to the occasional passing vehicle.  I’m not sure what has drawn all the animals to the highway, but we are grateful for seeing all of them as we missed seeing most on the way up.
It appears that we are among the last of the RVers to flee Alaska.  Above Anchorage, as we traveled to the north of the Chugach Mountains, it snowed two nights in a row.  The snow was falling at ever lower elevations, or “coming down the mountain” as folks up there say.  I guess that’s as good a message as any that it’s time to head south.  The foliage along the roadsides was browned out or had turned yellow, russet, and maroon.  Daytime high temperatures were only in the upper forties.  Yup, time to go.  Evenings in the RV parks felt like visits to ghost towns.  Campgrounds that on our way to Alaska in June had been filled, or nearly filled, with eighty or a hundred or a hundred fifty trailers and motor homes now were hosting six or a dozen.  We were informed that the hordes heading south had passed two or three weeks ago.  Now, like struggling and straggling tuba players, attempting to stay in step with the bass banging drummers, we’re bringing up the rear of the parade.  (By the way, can anyone out there tell me why someone would play the tuba in the rear of a marching band when he or she could finger a featherweight flute up front?)  Yup, now you can really tell, it’s time to go.
We came through the beautiful, nay, scintillating, Northern Rockies again.  As words failed me the first time, I won’t mangle them again this time around.  See the Rockies for yourself!  In a way, they are even more beautiful now as the aspens, cottonwoods, and deciduous shrubs dash some yellow and an occasional splash of dark red or even orange into the scene.  Fall is definitely here.  The grass, weeds, and scattered wheat along the roads has turned to yellow or brown.  The greens are left to the sentinel spruces and their kin but, of course,  they still predominate.
Yesterday afternoon and this morning we traveled through the higher prairies where the wheat and hay have been mostly harvested and the stubble shines a magnificent burnished gold under the endless sky which has been blue!, blue!, blue! and brought us temperatures around eighty.  I had forgotten what this feels like.  This is also an area of gas, oil, and timber, but those things don’t stir me the way the farms and ranches do.  I would have loved to be a farmer on a warm fall day when most of the work has been finished.
We have more or less made a decision to skip Glacier and Yellowstone National Parks and turn east after a day or two with the dinosaurs outside Calgary.  Yup, it’s time to go.  With all due respect to Thomas Wolfe, you can go home again, or at least I’m going to try.  I already find myself talking to folks about the trip in the past tense.  I also find myself thinking of the Maine fishing I’ll miss this fall for the first time in many years.   Falling asleep, I no longer conjure up sockeyes, kings, and silvers, but have visions of the Connecticut streams which will shortly be stocked with trout and of the Atlantic salmon that will soon be swimming in the Shetucket.  It’s time to see Charmi before she changes the locks on the doors, and my progeny before their father is completely gray.  It’s time to see friends and talk to them without a computer screen in the way.
I started this blog over three months ago with an old Spanish proverb to the effect that “An ass that goes traveling doesn’t come back a horse.”  And so it is.  This small town boy went traveling and he liked a lot of what he saw, but he wouldn’t trade it for what he has.  Spell that C-o-n-n-e-c-t-i-c-u-t, and all it means to me.
The trip isn’t over, so you’ll have to bear the blogs a while longer.  We’re still a bit of a way from home and have plans to see a few more sights.  This weekend is a reminder that summer is still in the air.  It’s a holiday weekend up here too, and  possibly the last warm weather trip for many. They’ve escaped from Calgary and Edmonton. Last night (Friday) every campground around Grand Prairie was filled.  We finally got a spot in the overflow lot of one of the nicer parks.  There was wi-fi but, of course, no water, electricity, or sewers.  It jogged my memory of Denali, and why I like to do my camping in a Holiday Inn.  All this prompted us to call ahead to see if we could get reservations for tonight.  Sure enough, we finally got one here at Sagitawah RV Park, where we had stopped on the way up.  There are 88 sites.  We were assigned #31— the exact site of our first stay!   Say “serendipity.”
Anyway, the clock is ticking.  This ass, or horse, or is it horse’s ass is beginning the trip back to the barn  It’ll be good, real good, to see you all again!!!

On Labor Day we stayed over in Calgary. We used the day to visit the Terrell Dinosaur Museum, an absolutely fascinating place which not only features dinosaurs but traces the various ages of the earth. It’s located in the Canadian Badlands, which are fairly amazing in themselves, and similar to the Dakota Badlands for those of you who have visited there.

Tuesday, we cleared the Sweetwater, Montana, Port of Entry without causing an international border incident. Since, we’ve been moving south and east as fast as the trailer will allow. We’ve done a bit of sightseeing, too. We stopped at the national park commemorating the Battle of the Little Bighorn, the site of Custer’s Last Stand. The terrain is rather hilly and the battleground something over five miles long and a couple deep. though I’ve read a couple books over the years on the battle, I was surprised by the hills and the size of the area on which the battle took place. We also visited Mt Rushmore. The sculpture is impressive, but the surrounding area is tourist trap personified.

The past couple days we’ve been rolling through corn and soybean country. Tonight (Sunday), we’re in Indianapolis, Indiana. With any luck, we plan to be home on Wednesday.

For any of those who might be interested, once I’m home I’ll do some Alaska musings which might help any of you considering a trip similar to our…. See you all very soon!