In early February 2019 Neal Picken—a Bentonville, Arkansas, cyclist on the 2004 ABB Oregon to New Hampshire ride I staffed—telephoned. He had purchased several copies of Coast When Ya Kin, the book I wrote that includes details of an Alaska bicycle ride that Jessica and I did in 2002, so wanted to pick my brain re our preparation for that ride. I pointed him to The Milepost, a publication that tells mile-by-mile what can be found along the Richardson, Glenn, and Parks Highways he wanted to ride.
At first I thought Neal was calling to invite me to ride along, but I told him that I’d had hip replacement just a month prior to his call and could not ride but would love to work up an itinerary for him and to sag him and his group. Neal called a week or so later with more info and told me that he and the other two riders would be happy to have me create an itinerary and accompany them as Sag Lady. Yippee! Another adventure in the making.
Before I go any further, let me introduce ride leader Neal and his team. You can read about moi, daahlinks, in the blog’s “About Me” sidebar.
Neal "Cupcake" Picken, 77— Ride originator/organizer, Neal, a fencing coach, started the Arkansas Fencing Academy in Springdale, Arkansas. The Fayetteville Fencing Club moved into the new academy, which included six strips, a full armory, changing areas, and showers. The new academy facilities were opened to several area fencing clubs. Presently, the only United States Fencing Association member club is the Fayetteville Fencing Club. Margaux became Neal’s pupil when she was only 14 years old. He coached her well as she qualified and participated as a pentathlete in three Olympic games.
Wade "Skippy" Colwell, 58 — Wade, a financial advisor at Wells Fargo Clearing Services, LLC in Fayetteville, Arkansas, is an Eagle Scout, Scout Leader and whitewater kayaker; Wade was awarded the coveted Distinguished Eagle Scout Award (DESA) “a service award of the Boy Scouts of America awarded to an Eagle Scout for distinguished service in his profession and to his community for a period of at least 25 years after attaining the level of Eagle Scout.” Wade’s boy scout camping knowledge was invaluable each night at our campsites. 
Margaux Isaksen, 27—Three-time Olympic pentathlete—fencing, freestyle swimming, equestrian show jumping, and a final combined event of pistol shooting and cross country running. Margaux, coached by Neal, qualified for and participated in the 2008 Beijing Olympics, the 2012 London Olympics, and the 2016 Rio Olympics in which she took fourth place in pentathlon. At the time of the ride, Margaux lived in Colorado Springs near the Olympic Training Center. She rode her bike as she would a horse: high saddle, down in the drops, full speed ahead.
The Mountain Goat— Neal’s new Mercedes Sprinter van. The Goat earned its name on the way home because despite its size and load, it climbed and descended mountains in Jasper and Banff Parks with ease. More about The Goat later, and I am not referring to the Cupcake who owned it.
Eventually I sent Neal my Alaska blog and he and I worked out a two-week itinerary that would see Margaux leaving from Anchorage on the 23rd and moving on the 24th with her husband, a Green Beret diver, to North Carolina. The itinerary also worked for Wade, who was leaving the group on the 24th to fly to Idaho to meet some friends with whom he would run the Middle Fork of the Salmon River for a week. Like the Boy Scout that he is, Wade was prepared and had sent in the van with Neal his dry bag and gear for the river run as well as his cycling and camping gear.
The Alaska blog that I'd sent Neal contained Jessica’s and my route and also contained elevation views that Neal found helpful. Neal, Wade, and Margaux planned to cycle the 873-mile loop (right) from Anchorage to Anchorage in the opposite direction than Jess and I had ridden. Neal planned to start in Anchorage and ride north to Denali and Fairbanks and then south down the Richardson Highway to Valdez, take the 7-hour ferry from Valdez to Whittier, drive through the 2.5-mile Anton Anderson Tunnel, camp at the Williwaw Campground off Portage Glacier Road, and then relocate near Anchorage to run Margaux and Wade to the Anchorage airport.
In the four months preceding the Golden Age Games and the ride, Neal bought and customized a Mercedes Sprinter van (The Mountain Goat), adding shelving for containers to hold food and utensils for sag stops and camp meals. He also installed fork mounts for the five bikes he would transport and added a top rack. There were also plenty of bungee cords and tarps to protect items carried on top of the van, as well as diesel additive, window wash, and other car maintenance items.
Then Neal went to town buying instant and canned food for camp meals and gathering the equipment we would need to cook it, including an ice chest and three-burner stove borrowed from Wade, bottled water, plastic utensils, Styrofoam bowls, paper plates, plastic tablecloths, napkins, paper towels, toilet paper, pancake mix, bottles of syrup, cooking oil, boxes of power bars and Sag Stop goodies, mosquito fogger, insect repellent, etc. He also brought each of us a porcelain mug from The Magnolia Coffee House, a local business run by friends of his. Since all but Margaux's mug were gray, Margaux labeled the bottoms of ours with a permanent marker. She thought Wade's mug deserved a special label (above).
Later on the ride, I added a large cooler for water and a small cutting board. We four could have camped for two months on the food that Neal brought because, of course, we ate out, too, and supplemented our largess with an eight-pound salmon (more about that later) and a grayling that Wade caught. Graylings have delicate white meat, but more about that later, too. On the way home, Neal determined to give the excess food to his local food bank.
On May 30th, Neal, an ex-Marine, drove with another guy four days nonstop to Alaska to be in Anchorage June 5-10 so that he could participate in the National Veterans Golden Age Games, a “national multi-event sports and recreational seniors’ competition program designed to improve the quality of life for all older Veterans, including those with a wide range of abilities and disabilities. The games are open to Veterans, ages 55 or older, who receive health care from the U.S. Department of Veterans Affairs.” Neal participated in five events: Air pistol, air rifle. 5km time trial, 20km road race, and table tennis. He took the gold in air pistol beating all in all age groups; took silver in the time trial, and gold in the 20 kilometer bicycle race The bike ride would start the day the games ended, June 10, 2019.
DAY 0--JUNE 9TH, 2019
SUSAN FLIES TO ANCHORAGE
I scheduled a 5:00 am flight out of OKC to arrive in Dallas at 6:00 am with a 9-hour wait for my American Airlines nonstop flight to Anchorage at 3:10 pm, which flight was to arrive in Anchorage at 6:42 pm. This crazy itinerary was the best I could do both financially and schedule-wise, and meant that I would arrive in Anchorage one day before the Veteran’s Golden Age Games closing ceremonies. Both Margaux and Wade flew in on the 10th but I could not find a flight that would see me there until early evening on the 10th, which was scheduled to be the first day of the ride. Well, the nine-hour wait in Dallas stretched to twelve with delay after delay, so I spent a restless day in the Dallas-Fort Worth Airport and arrived in Anchorage around 9:20 pm (12:20 am by my Oklahoma clock).
Though it was after nine, the sun shone brightly as the plane approached the airport over snow-capped mountains poking up through clouds that lay like a flat lake below. I shuttled from the airport to the Airport Best Value Inn and Suites with a crowd of rowdy Serbian men who claimed to be scientists. Oil maybe? The hotel, a dump, was the least expensive I could find in this very expensive state, but the bed looked like heaven to me as I fell unconscious onto it.
DAY 1 -- MONDAY, JUNE 10
ANCHORAGE TO WILLOW CREEK SRA CAMPGROUND
I ate breakfast this morning with a woman who worked at Denali National Park but was in Anchorage visiting her daughter. She told me a sad story when I asked if the Denali wolf pack had rebounded from a 2002 low. She said that this year (or maybe last, I cannot remember) the park opened a southeast strip to the public for hunting. Caribou grazed the area and with the caribou came wolves. She reported that just this season, one hunter had legally killed ten wolves. Later on the ride I came upon a man who was selling wolf pelts out of a parking lot for $600 to $750 each.  |
After breakfast, I asked for the nearest store where I could buy a pillow. The front desk told me the route to a “nearby” Walmart. Neal was skipping the closing ceremonies and scheduled to pick me up around 11:00, so I hastily walked four (count ’em) miles to a Walmart and bought a pillow. It was HOT—in the 80s—so I took a taxi back to motel. Shortly after I got back, Neal arrived and we loaded my gear into the van and then ate lunch (Neal’s treat) at an old- fashioned diner whilst awaiting Margaux’s and Wade’s flights.
Dandelions along my route to the Anchorage Walmart; in Alaska, along unmowed roadsides and walkways dandelions grow to two feet or more.
After picking up Margaux and Wade, we drove from Anchorage to Willow Creek State Recreation Area CG. We drove because getting out of Dodge required cycling on busy four-lane highways and the day was well spent before departure. Also because we'd had to cut out a couple of days so that Wade and Margaux could make their return connections. I was planning on switch driving nonstop back to OK with Neal. More about that later, too.
The Willow Creek CG I had recommended in the itinerary I'd sent Neal turned out not to be the rabbit-riddled Willow Creek Campground that Jess and I had stayed at in 2002, but the Willow Creek State Recreation Area campground, which, ironically, is on the Susitna River and not Willow Creek. Jess’s and my private Willow Creek Resort campground with a lodge across Willow Creek was only a few miles up the road, but the lodge had apparently burned down. I found it on the Internet and the rabbits still rule.
The Willow Creek SRA campground was empty. We were the only campers. Neal and I dropped Margaux and Wade off at a promising campsite, but Neal had reserved a site, so the two of us drove the camping loop to find it. The first site proved to be the best, however, and on the way back to it, a male spruce grouse ran into the lane. My first Alaska bird sighting . . . other than Magpies that were at the campsite.
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| Spruce Grouse Black-billed Magpie |
After we unloaded, Neal, Margaux and I--with Wade’s help--erected our new tents; Wade strung two hammocks in the woods, but before I fell asleep, I saw him erecting his tent. Too many mosquitoes, he explained.
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| My Big Agnes Tent; the little stool on my doormat I used to help me get up and down from the ground and into the tent. One of the curses of aging is inflexibility and stiffness. |
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| Margaux's little tent; she slept without the fly that first night. |
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| Neal's Marmot tent, which--except for the color--was very similar to my Big Agnes |
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| Wade's hammocks strung up in the nearby woods |
After setting up the tents and hammocks the three went for a bike ride, and I explored the camp area, took some photos of flowers I did not recognize, and enjoyed a moment to myself.
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Above: Prickly Rose; right Dwarf Dogwood, Bunchberry, Canadian
Dwarf Cornel (Cornus canadensis); a bunch of orangish red berries
are seen in Aug. and Sept. The berries are not poisonous but can
cause stomach upsets if eaten in quantity. The white are bracts and
not petals as the flowers are in the center of the bracts and small. |
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| Susitna River |
Canadian Tiger Swallowtails puddling on the river bank.
We ate noodle bowls for dinner, mine very spicy. Then we sat for a very short time around the fire but gave it up when the moskies began to dine
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| Neal with some of the boxes of food and supplies he'd purchased before the ride |
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| Wade playing the harmonica and Margaux singing after dinner |
The van (right) desperately in need of organizing.
Bed about 11:00. Wade and Margaux whipped after a day of traveling, their bike ride, and their river dip. I'm feeling pretty exhausted, too. Time change and constant daylight maybe?
We are not at all organized, but this will come with time and routine.
WILLOW CREEK SRA TO TALKEETNA
We arose the next morning and enjoyed an oatmeal breakfast before the three left on their bicycles for Talkeetna, 45 miles away. Talkeetna is a rocking little yuppie town fourteen miles off the Parks' Highway. It serves as a tourism base for flight-seeing, mountain climbing, river rafting. etc.
I fussed about camp, tidied up a bit, and sent emails before leaving the campground about 11:00. Neal had tasked me with hanging a Happy Birthday banner at the Talkeetna Spur Cutoff because it was Wade's 58th birthday. Apparently some months prior, Wade had gone whole hog with surprises for Neal's 77th birthday, so Neal had had a special banner made to surprise Wade. Neal also asked me to buy a cake from the Talkeetna Roadhouse bakery. Well made plans that went somewhat awry.
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| At the rest stop spring but on a platform near it; failed to get the actual spring in the pic, duh! |
When I exited to the parking lot, Wade and Margaux were just cycling by. They were heads down and talking, so did not see me and rode north on the Parks Highway right past the Talkeetna Spur turnoff . . . and the birthday banner! I, having forgotten that I was no longer at the hardware store on the Spur, followed suit wondering how the two of them could have missed seeing the banner.
We had adopted the America by Bicycle signals for "I'm okay,"a sweep of the arm, and "Help," hand on helmet, and the two swept the okay sign as I toot-tooted past in the van. After about 18 miles, a good portion of it under construction with waits for pilot cars, Wade and I both realized that we were off route. We called each other, took a look at Google maps, and then turned around and headed back south on the Parks highway to the Spur turnoff. All told, Margaux and Wade probably got in about 25 bonus miles, because I sagged them to Talkeeknea from the Spur turnoff.
At the Talkeetna Spur Wade finally saw his birthday banner.
Meanwhile Neal had made it to Talkeetna and had reserved a site at the village campgrounds. I called and told him what had happened and also reminded him to buy the birthday cake. A whole cake would have cost $38, so Neal bought a large slice of chocolate cake instead. He was eagerly awaiting us at the Talkeetna Roadhouse.
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| Talkeetna Roadhouse |
The village campground in Talkeetna, remembered from Jessica's and my 2002 ride as no frills in a sycamore grove, had added toilets but had shrunk considerably and was now quite tiny. The town however had boomed in the intervening seventeen years and now sported cabins, a brewery, many trinket and gift shops, and an assortment of hippie, yuppie and international tourists.
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| New cabin for rent |
After Neal had a brief set-to with the campground host as to the placement of our four tents, we erected our tents on a poor, sloped site crammed in among other campers. On the site next to ours was camped a woman named Wendy. Neal introduced us and we instantly became friends. Wendy, a nurse who was solo camping, ate dinner with us that evening, and camped with us the following evening. She and Neal figured out the next day’s route: Talkeetna to K'esugi Ken a new Trapper Creek campground in the southeast corner of Denali National Park. Neal will sag with me to the campsite. The two younger cyclists will ride the 60 or so miles to it.
After setting up our tents, the two young'uns decided to "bathe" in the Susitna River again. At Talkeetna the river was very wide and again nearly overflowing it banks and running fast. Neal and I and Wendy (and a couple of unbelieving campers) followed the two to the river bank.
After setting up our tents, the two young'uns decided to "bathe" in the Susitna River again. At Talkeetna the river was very wide and again nearly overflowing it banks and running fast. Neal and I and Wendy (and a couple of unbelieving campers) followed the two to the river bank.
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| One of my best photos: Evening clouds over the Susitna River near our Talkeetna campground |
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| The frigid duo and Neal pretending to jump in |
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| Denali Brewing Company (Internet photo) |
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| The beer and cider sampler |
DAY 3 -- WEDNESDAY, JUNE 12
TALKEETNA TO K'SEUGI KEN CAMPGROUND
The following morning we four and Wendy ate an enormous breakfast at the Roadhouse/Bakery. It was Wednesday so Neal and I shared the Wednesday Special Pancake, a huge rhubarb/apple pancake larger than the plate it was served on. We also shared the Breakfast Standard: Scrambled eggs, home fried Alaska Yukon Gold potatoes, extra thick peppered bacon, thick sliced toast and reindeer sausage. (Ouff! The pounds are weighing in as I am eating the same meals as the cyclists but am not cycling them off!)
After breakfast, Wendy left to reserve us a site at the next campground north—K’esugi Ken—a brand new campground in the southeast corner of Denali NP. Neal was going to sag with me so the two of us kicked about Talkeetna taking pix, etc. for a bit after Wade and Margaux pedaled off on the 50-mile route.
After breakfast, Wendy left to reserve us a site at the next campground north—K’esugi Ken—a brand new campground in the southeast corner of Denali NP. Neal was going to sag with me so the two of us kicked about Talkeetna taking pix, etc. for a bit after Wade and Margaux pedaled off on the 50-mile route.
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| Nagley's store where I found almond milk (no lactose); Nagley's and the Roadhouse were here seventeen years ago but the rest of the town was unrecognizable |
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| Wade and Margaux in Talkeetna before leaving for K'esugi Ken Campground; the couple on the porch behind them ate breakfast with us |
Neal and I drove ahead and dropped off the tents and gear at the K'esugi Ken campsite. Wendy was already there and had reserved the last site for all five of us. We pulled out our tents and flies and spread them out to dry in the sun while we drove back to provide sag for the young’uns. By the time we got back, Wendy had set up all of our tents! While the campground was beautiful, the area for tents was tiny. All of our tents were close together on a very small patch of grass barely large enough for all five tents.
We stopped at Tom Dooley's in Trapper Creek where Neal and I took showers and did a wash for all. Wade and Margaux stopped here, too, so we used the stop as an impromptu sag stop. There was a small picnic table beside the store and we ate lunch there.
We caught up with Wade and Margaux again at the Chulitna River Bridge and all four of us stopped at Denali Viewpoint South and took pix. The viewpoint was quite close to the entrance to K'seugi Ken CG.
The K'seugi campsite was up high on the side of a mountain but W& M polished off the climb with alacrity. Dinner that evening was canned ravioli and mac-'n-cheese (which the others fixed and ate as I am lactose intolerant). Wendy shared hotdogs and s'mores with us. After dinner, the two young'uns took a hike and we three oldsters plotted tomorrow’s sag and enjoyed a cup of joe.
We stopped at Tom Dooley's in Trapper Creek where Neal and I took showers and did a wash for all. Wade and Margaux stopped here, too, so we used the stop as an impromptu sag stop. There was a small picnic table beside the store and we ate lunch there.
We caught up with Wade and Margaux again at the Chulitna River Bridge and all four of us stopped at Denali Viewpoint South and took pix. The viewpoint was quite close to the entrance to K'seugi Ken CG.
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| Denali Mountain can be seen at this viewpoint but it was too cloudy this day to really get a good look at it. |
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| This is what I could see of the mountains and the braided Chulitna River |
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| This Internet pic is a better view of what can be seen at the south scenic viewpoint on a clear day . . . and with a real camera, not a cell phone. It must have been taken from higher up the trail also. |
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| Wendy, dressed like the native Alaskan she is, toasting a marshmallow for s'mores |
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| Neal delicately tasting one of Wendy's s'mores |
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| The sky at 10:00 PM |
DAY 4 THURSDAY, JUNE 13
K'ESUGI KEN CG TO SAVAGE RIVER CG,DENALI NP
It became foggy and cloudy that night but in the morning the sun was bright and so was 20,310-foot Denali Mountain shining enormously in the distance. Wendy was so excited that she ran like a teenager down the camp trail and down the road to get a good photo of it See Wendy's photo below.
After breakfast, the three riders said good-bye to Wendy and took off for the nice downhill out of the campsite, but not before loading the van and taking some pix of the group (below). Today they planned to ride as many miles as they could of the 115 miles to the Savage River Campsite. Wendy and I found water and filled the cooler and then said our goodbyes. Wendy was headed for Fairbanks and we were headed for Denali NP.
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| Wendy, Margaux, Wade, Neal |
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| Not a very flattering photo of me and the group; I'm already puffing up on airline, sag stop, and camp food. |
We did not get a mile before we came to The Alaska Veteran’s Memorial, a tribute to Alaska's armed services, and a bit of a history lesson on Alaska's Territorial Guard prior to statehood. With restrooms, benches, and picnic tables, the Veterans Memorial was a good place to stop, really an extension of the campground with it's ability to serve as overflow campground parking. (First photo below from the Internet.)
I set up SAG for Neal about 15 miles out. Neal was planning on riding about 30 miles but was tuckered so sagged at this stop. Wade and Margaux rode about 80 miles before they, too, hopped into the van and were carried into the Park and up the 13-mile-long Park Road to our Savage River campsite. On our way to the campsite we came upon a female moose at roadside. She was shedding her winter coat and looked mangy.
Much confusion when we got to our Savage River site. Someone else was in it, or at least their vehicle was. We also found that we had to go 13 miles back down to the Denali Bus Depot to actually get our site reservation ticket and our reservation tickets for the next day's wildlife tour. This we did and returned to find the vehicle still parked in our site and no one around to claim it. The campground was full, but the hostess allowed us to park in a nearby not-yet-occupied site to cook the evening meal. We were not eager to get out all of our meal equipment only to have to tote it to the reserved site, but it was after 9:00 pm and we were hungry. So, Neal and Wade cooked up an eclectic meal of mashed potatoes, ramen noodles, coffee and cider beer. I made a crackers/apple/cheese platter using the Cabot Farms lactose- free cheese I had brought--a quarter pound of both horseradish and extra sharp.
Finally the owner of the vehicle returned and we could set up in our site, which we would occupy for two nights. The site was pretty bad. There was room only for two tents if we were not to camp on the "tundra," but trees had recently been cut and left in a pile in the middle of the site and knobby bare roots extended everywhere. Also the site was littered with arctic hare scat--much larger pellets than rabbit scat. The pit toilets were a good walk from the site, also
The site was certainly not ideal but we did the best we could. Neal and I set up on site and Wade and Margaux set up illegally off-site farther back in the woods on the mossy, spongy tundra floor.
Entrance to the Savage River CG among black and white spruce
DAY 5 -- FRIDAY, JUNE 14
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| Ex-Marine Neal before the Marine Memorial |
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| We got perhaps a better look at Denali Mountain from K'esugi Ken CG than in the Park; many tourists never get to see it as it hides behind clouds much of the time |
Much confusion when we got to our Savage River site. Someone else was in it, or at least their vehicle was. We also found that we had to go 13 miles back down to the Denali Bus Depot to actually get our site reservation ticket and our reservation tickets for the next day's wildlife tour. This we did and returned to find the vehicle still parked in our site and no one around to claim it. The campground was full, but the hostess allowed us to park in a nearby not-yet-occupied site to cook the evening meal. We were not eager to get out all of our meal equipment only to have to tote it to the reserved site, but it was after 9:00 pm and we were hungry. So, Neal and Wade cooked up an eclectic meal of mashed potatoes, ramen noodles, coffee and cider beer. I made a crackers/apple/cheese platter using the Cabot Farms lactose- free cheese I had brought--a quarter pound of both horseradish and extra sharp.
Finally the owner of the vehicle returned and we could set up in our site, which we would occupy for two nights. The site was pretty bad. There was room only for two tents if we were not to camp on the "tundra," but trees had recently been cut and left in a pile in the middle of the site and knobby bare roots extended everywhere. Also the site was littered with arctic hare scat--much larger pellets than rabbit scat. The pit toilets were a good walk from the site, alsoEntrance to the Savage River CG among black and white spruce
DAY 5 -- FRIDAY, JUNE 14
DENALI NATIONAL PARK WILDLIFE TOUR
This day we joined our Wildlife Tour (Neal's treat) at the Bus Depot thirteen miles back down the Park Road at 6:30 am. Thus, we set our alarms for 4:00 am and were up and down in a flash, getting to the bus depot a little before boarding.
There was quite a group of people already in line for boarding. Neal, Wade, and Margaux boarded and moved to empty seats toward the middle of the bus, but when I boarded I jumped into a vacant inside front seat next to a Canadian named Steve.
Our tour took us on a tan bus 65 miles into the park. Danny, our driver, was very knowledgeable and because I was sitting in a front seat I could hear and see most of what he was announcing into his mike. Those farther back probably did not have that advantage.
We saw mountain sheep and five grizzly bears, two adults and three cubs; and six moose, three adults, one with three calves. Danny explained that the female moose come in near humans when it is time for calving because predators such as wolves and grizzlies kept their distance from humans. We also saw many arctic hares and arctic ground squirrels. The adult hares, much larger than a cottontail, retain a little white on their ears and feet after shedding their winter white coats for their brown summer ones. The ground squirrels jetted across the road like small rockets. Danny told us that there were so many hares and squirrels at roadside because they were eating minerals.
We also saw several groups of caribou and a couple of single caribou. These animals are plagued by flies that get in their nostrils and anuses, so often we would see one jumping around or running frantically. When Jess and I took this tour, the bus driver told us that the caribou come up onto the road to get away from the flies.
My favorite sighting was a raven's nest under a bridge and a female raven feeding bits of roadkilled arctic ground squirrel to three hulking young that were nearly as big as she. I had my binoculars with me so I and seatmate Steve got good looks at all of these animals and also at a pair of golden eagles soaring above the mountaintops. Back at the campsite we saw the red tree squirrel and gray jay bottom right. The gray jay, BTW, has been recently renamed "Canadian jay." (All photos below from the Internet.)
Danny, had memorized several Robert Service Yukon verses and recited them at appropriate intervals in his spiel. Aside from "The Cremation of Sam McGee," the one below is my favorite. Service and his life make for interesting reading. You may want to look him up on the Internet.
The Spell of the Yukon
by Robert Service
I wanted the gold, and I sought it,
I scrabbled and mucked like a slave.
Was it famine or scurvy -- I fought it;
I hurled my youth into a 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.
Was it famine or scurvy -- I fought it;
I hurled my youth into a 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.
No! There's the land. (Have you seen it?)
It's the cussedest land that I know,
From the 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.
It's the cussedest land that I know,
From the 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.
You come to get rich (damned good reason);
You feel like an exile at first;
You hate it like hell for a season,
And then you are worse than the worst.
It grips you like some kinds of sinning;
It twists you from foe to a friend;
It seems it's been since the beginning;
It seems it will be to the end.
You feel like an exile at first;
You hate it like hell for a season,
And then you are worse than the worst.
It grips you like some kinds of sinning;
It twists you from foe to a friend;
It seems it's been since the beginning;
It seems it will be to the end.
I've stood in some mighty-mouthed hollow
That's plumb-full of hush to the brim;
I've watched the big, husky sun wallow
In crimson and gold, and grow dim,
Till the moon set the pearly peaks gleaming,
And the stars tumbled out, neck and crop;
And I've thought that I surely was dreaming,
With the peace o' the world piled on top.
That's plumb-full of hush to the brim;
I've watched the big, husky sun wallow
In crimson and gold, and grow dim,
Till the moon set the pearly peaks gleaming,
And the stars tumbled out, neck and crop;
And I've thought that I surely was dreaming,
With the peace o' the world piled on top.
The summer -- no sweeter was ever;
The sunshiny woods all athrill;
The grayling aleap in the river,
The bighorn asleep on the hill.
The strong life that never knows harness;
The wilds where the caribou call;
The freshness, the freedom, the farness --
O God! how I'm stuck on it all.
The sunshiny woods all athrill;
The grayling aleap in the river,
The bighorn asleep on the hill.
The strong life that never knows harness;
The wilds where the caribou call;
The freshness, the freedom, the farness --
O God! how I'm stuck on it all.
The winter! the brightness that blinds you,
The white land locked tight as a drum,
The cold fear that follows and finds you,
The silence that bludgeons you dumb.
The snows that are older than history,
The woods where the weird shadows slant;
The stillness, the moonlight, the mystery,
I've bade 'em good-by -- but I can't.
The white land locked tight as a drum,
The cold fear that follows and finds you,
The silence that bludgeons you dumb.
The snows that are older than history,
The woods where the weird shadows slant;
The stillness, the moonlight, the mystery,
I've bade 'em good-by -- but I can't.
There's a land where the mountains are nameless,
And the rivers all run God knows where;
There are lives that are erring and aimless,
And deaths that just hang by a hair;
There are hardships that nobody reckons;
There are valleys unpeopled and still;
There's a land -- oh, it beckons and beckons,
And I want to go back -- and I will.
And the rivers all run God knows where;
There are lives that are erring and aimless,
And deaths that just hang by a hair;
There are hardships that nobody reckons;
There are valleys unpeopled and still;
There's a land -- oh, it beckons and beckons,
And I want to go back -- and I will.
They're making my money diminish;
I'm sick of the taste of champagne.
Thank God! when I'm skinned to a finish
I'll pike to the Yukon again.
I'll fight -- and you bet it's no sham-fight;
It's hell! -- but I've been there before;
And it's better than this by a damsite --
So me for the Yukon once more.
I'm sick of the taste of champagne.
Thank God! when I'm skinned to a finish
I'll pike to the Yukon again.
I'll fight -- and you bet it's no sham-fight;
It's hell! -- but I've been there before;
And it's better than this by a damsite --
So me for the Yukon once more.
There's gold, and it's haunting and haunting;
It's luring me on as of old;
Yet it isn't the gold that I'm wanting
So much as just finding the gold.
It's the great, big, broad land 'way up yonder,
It's the forests where silence has lease;
It's the beauty that thrills me with wonder,
It's the stillness that fills me with peace.
It's luring me on as of old;
Yet it isn't the gold that I'm wanting
So much as just finding the gold.
It's the great, big, broad land 'way up yonder,
It's the forests where silence has lease;
It's the beauty that thrills me with wonder,
It's the stillness that fills me with peace.
We were told that lunch was provided on the tour, but eight hours is a long time to tour and we had gotten up early so I fixed a peanut butter sandwich for each of us and some cheese and crackers. We also took our water bottles, and I had my binoculars. It is a good thing that I fixed a sandwich for each of us because the "lunch" turned out to be a kind of lame snack box of pretzels, chips, miniature cookies, a meat stick. and promotional materials. Toward the end of the tour Danny told us that we could purchase a CD of the the photos he'd taken on the tour as well as the best shots from other wildlife tours for a mere $30. We all thought the tour pretty commercial and lame though we did enjoy seeing the animals and also glimpsing Denali 76 miles away.
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| A glimpse of Denali Mountain before it was obscured by clouds |
We stopped for a couple of rest stops and to take photos. At one of these there were some caribou horns that tourists could pose with. I posed and Margaux took my photo but we neglected to take it against the Denali backdrop as the photo below attests.
We were at the 62-mile end of our tour, but I took a couple of photos of the dirt road snaking off to Wonder Lake. I also took photos of a couple of hardy flowers. That's Arctic Lupine (blue) and Tundra Arnica (yellow) below.
In the afternoon Neal and I showered and we did another load of wash at the Riley Creek Campground near the entrance to the park.
I think it was this evening that we ate at The Bake on the commercial mile of the Parks Highway before the entrance to the Park. The place was old and crooked and artfully decorated with dollar bills on the wall (we contributed a couple) and tap pulls (see below). I had halibut fish and chips and do not remember what the others ordered, though I think Neal had a burger or a bowl of soup; Wade, his usual hard cider; and Margaux an IBD beer--no, not an Inflammatory Bowl Disease beer but a beer brewed by Independent Brewers & Distillers . . . I think those are the initials. I know naught about beers so may be telling stories.
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| Jess, can you believe what has sprung up since our 2002 ride? They have even widened the highway to four lane and to do so chopped out part of the mountain. |
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| Must have been a small place when we were at Denali in 2002, Jess, because I do not remember seeing it though it has been there for 35 years. |
DAY 6 -- SATURDAY, JUNE 15
DENALI TO NENANA W/ SAG TO HARDING LAKE
The plan today was to ride from the Denali Savage River CG to Nenana and then sag the riders through Fairbanks to our next campsite off the Richardson highway in Salcha. Wade rode down from our Denali campsite and then to Nenana (80 miles); Margaux and Neal rode from Healy to Nenana (56 miles). Below, oatmeal breakfast before hitting the road.
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| Putting the perc pot of coffee on to brew; I drink decaf but the others like their coffee STRONG. |
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| Wade and Neal enjoying breakfast at Savage River CG |
When I got to Nenana there was a man selling wolf, lynx (sob), beaver, mink, and otter pelts out of the bed of his pickup. Beautiful soft fur and beautifully processed but so sad to me. The lynx feet were enormous.
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| Wild iris that cheered me near the side of the parking lot where the man was selling pelts |
When we got to Skinny Dick's Halfway Inn just outside of Fairbanks, I pulled in. I had to show the group this bawdy place that Jess and I had stopped at on our 2002 ride. Weeelll, the place was no longer a simple bar but a full scale sex shop selling penis lighters and other in-your-face sex "gifts." Inside were a group of motorcyclists, as well as a couple who were holding their wedding reception there. Can you believe! Holding your wedding reception at a sex shop! We used the restroom -- walls coated with ugly sex drawings and sayings-- and then made our exit, but not before I took a photo of the happy couple and not before Neal stepped up to the table of bikers and announced that "real men wear spandex." We hauled him outside and luckily avoided a fistfight. (Not really but it makes a good story.)
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| Wedding couple holding their reception at Skinny Dick's |
Neal drove us through Fairbanks and along the Richardson highway, past the North Pole with it's candy cane light standards and to the Salcha River CG where Jess and I had camped in a beautiful campground right on the river. Well, you can't go home again. The place was unrecognizable, its parking lot and boat launch dwarfing the few tiny campsites, so we drove farther down the road to Harding Lake. The Milepost tells me that Harding Lake is named for President Warren G. Harding, who visited Alaska just before he died. Prior to his visit the lake was known as Salchaket Lake.
Sad to say I remember little about the Harding Lake campsite other than that it was lovely, in the trees, and the campgrounds sparsely populated. I do not believe we even saw the lake. There was a big encampment of families catty corner from our site, however, and the children were still noisily playing ball late at night. When the ball bounced into our site, Margaux reminded the boys that it was 10:00 and time for quiet. She also gave them her standard line: "Make good choices." They were not heard from again that evening.
The only downside were the gnats that infested the area. While non-biting they were irritating pests. Dozens of them collected outside on the mesh tent top under the fly. Those that got into the tent were quickly disposed of.
I can still find little time to spend logging the trip. I did not take my computer and saving info on the phone is tiring. Each day I am bushed at night so crawl into the tent intent on cataloging the day’s events but fall asleep while doing so.
DAY 7 -- SUNDAY, JUNE 16, FATHER'S DAY
HARDING LAKE TO FAIRBANKS REI TO DELTA JUNCTION
This day we were up early and off to a good start. After breakfast pancakes, the three were set to ride the full route. After they got off, I gathered all the wash including Margaux's down sleeping bag which she'd asked me to wash, claiming that it had smelled since she bought it. I sniffed it and it did smell like dead bird. Anyhow, I got on the road and started looking for a place to do the laundry. Many of the places at Alaska roadsides provide a laundry, showers, store, etc.
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| Wade cooking breakfast pancakes and Margaux looking her usual cheerful self though she is probably teasing Wade about the color or size of the pancakes |
Only 5 miles down the road I found the "C" Lazy Moose RV Park. I can't remember the name of the woman who ran it, Cindy maybe, but she was fine with my using her laundry room, which had two washers, two dryers, and was in a small building about 300 feet away down a hill. Wanting to leave the van where the cyclists could see it, I drove the laundry down the hill to the laundry house, unloaded all the wash, drove back and parked in front of the Lazy Moose. Neal, Wade, and Margaux were already there talking to Cindy and talking/working on their cell phones. I walked back to the laundry room, first asking for $25 in quarters.
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| Lazy Moose office, laundry building: showers one side laundry other; laundry room |
I loaded the two machines and then as the clothes washed I had a little time to write an email to myself about our journey . . . but no way to mail it to myself as I had no service. When the two loads were done, I put each in a dryer and loaded the sleeping bag into a washer. While folding clothes, I looked up to see tiny feathers fluttering all around the lid of the sleeping bag washer that was in its final spin. OMG! When I opened the washer I found wet feathers everywhere and six or seven small tears in the sleeping bag. Nonetheless I placed the bag in a dryer and monitored the lint catcher, thinking that when the bag was dry Margaux could maybe put duct tape or fabric tape over the tears.
After drying and folding the laundry, I chased the riders down, provided a brief sag stop, and showed Margaux her sleeping bag. She was aghast. The bag had cost $300, to say nothing about her lack of a warm bag that night. Wade looked at the bag and explained that sleeping bags and puffies etc. should never be put in a washer with a center spindle. Neither Margaux nor I had known this, obviously.
We had passed an REI in Fairbanks. Margaux had bought her bag from an REI and wanted to drive back to Fairbanks to get a new one. She called to see if it was open on Father's Day. It was open and would be open when we drove back, so this plan was voted on and the "ayes" had it.
Fortunately, this story ends well: REI took back the damaged sleeping bag no questions asked and gave Margaux a much better and more expensive sleeping bag that smelled fine. They found out that Margaux was an Olympic athlete there with her coach and were so impressed with this friendly, helpful woman that they called the manager to the fore and took a photo of Margaux with coach Neal and the manager to use in their promotional material. You know: "Olympic pentathlete shops at Fairbanks REI!"
While in the REI Wade bought himself a couple of plaid shirts and spent some bucks on a fishing pole, tackle/flies/lures and a fishing license. I bought a stretchy Underall shirt to sleep in and thought I bought a pair of silk long johns, also to sleep in, but when I opened the box at camp that night I found that I'd bought a silk camisole instead. Damn. I also bought myself a camp knife to cut the cheese for cheese and crackers. Wade and I can buy such things without worrying about airport security because they will be carried home in the van.
After our REI shopping spree, we stopped at an Italian/pizza place for lunch. We ate outdoors near a fence adorned with some wonderful flower baskets overflowing with lobelia. I had a big salad from the salad bar and spaghetti and meatballs. M & W shared a giant anchovy pizza and also salad bar salads. (We lunched and munched on leftover pizza for the next couple of days.) Neal had stopped along the route for a chili lunch so had only onion soup.
With the day well spent and sudden rain, we decided to drive from Fairbanks to Delta Junction and our campground at the Delta State Recreation Site. Not wanting to set up and camp in the rain, on the way there, I called the Delta Junction Alaskan Steakhouse & Motel and reserved a room for Margaux and me for a mere $50 each. We two were desperate for a good night's comfy bed and a real bathroom and shower.
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| The Alaskan equivalent of a Hilton |
The guys braved the elements and set up at the originally planned campground. They then came back to the Steakhouse to join us for a salad bar dinner (at least that's what I had, cannot remember what they ate) and both took showers and shaved in our "real, heated, lighted, mirrored, running-water-sink, and flush-toilet" bathroom. Ahhh! We were going to celebrate Father's Day with champagne, but Neal was cranky and exhausted so we put off that pleasure.
DAY 8 -- MONDAY, JUNE 17,
DELTA JUNCTION TO GLENNALLEN
This morning the men broke camp and then drove to the Steakhouse where we met them and ate a light breakfast. Over breakfast we discussed plans for the remaining days of the adventure. Neal wanted to spent more time in Valdez, so although we were scheduled to camp that evening at Paxon Lake, we decided to skip Paxon Lake and drive directly to the campsite at the Ranch House Lodge in Glennallen that Neal had reserved . . . 167 miles away.
Neal decided not to ride this day, so we drove back to the campsite where the men had left the bikes. Here we met a very tall (6' 11") man in the next campsite who was pulling a horse trailer. He was concerned because he thought the men had forgotten the bikes, which were leaning on the picnic table. We explained the situation to him and found that he had tricked out the horse trailer as an RV because none of the RVs on the market would allow him to stand. Pretty enterprising. I forget where he was from but he and his wife had been on the road for some time.
After talking with this man, Margaux and Wade took off on their bikes. They would ride as many miles as they wanted of the 167-mile day. All they needed to do was put hand to helmet when they wanted to sag in the van. Somewhere along the way the two were nearly sucked dry by a pair of mosquitoes.
After M & W were on the road, Neal and I in the van found the post office and mailed postcards and letters. We then had an interesting day on the road. Though it was raining, we stopped at the pipeline and took the pix below.
Later, Neal's craving for pie saw us stopping at The Lodge at Black Rapids. The lodge, high up on a hill, looked deserted to me and was sending out eerie Munsterlike vibes.
"It's not open," I declared. "Looks closed."
"Aww. Let's try it," was Neal's response, his pie craving peaking.
With this, he backed the van around to get a run at a sharply angled, steep, gravel, cliff-hanging lane to it. Lo, when we arrived, the place still looked closed, but we drove around back to a portico and a woman was just entering. Neal asked if we could get a piece of pie.
The woman replied, "Yes, I think Luis can help you," so we parked and entered this oddly eerie-on-the-outside place.
The inside, however, was charming with hand-pegged rafters (the entire place had been built with pegs, not a nail was used). The interior also contained a large cozy fireplace and a spectacular view out over the "Galloping" Black Rapids Glacier. Luis was in a front office but he directed us to a counter and stools looking into the kitchen. Here he offered coffee--even brewing me a decaf--rhubarb crumble or cornbread that he had made. We chose the crumble and coffee, and though it was not pie, the crumble was delicious.
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| Lodge's dog. Forget his name but he loved the red octopus toy he was playing with and fetched it to me several times |
I do not remember how many miles Wade and Margaux rode that day before we picked them up and explored Paxon Lake, our original CG. But after we picked them up we had some fun.
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| The four of us at Paxon Lake |
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| Margaux on the boat ramp at Paxon Lake |
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| Neal on the boat ramp at Paxon Lake |
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Wade blowing dandelion kisses above; Margaux blowing dandelion kisses below |
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| Neal flinging into the ditch a moose leg he'd picked up from a roadkilled moose carcass. Yeeck! |
I think this was the place where W & M showed us a postcard from a Finnish couple they had met on the road. I have not gone to the couple's site but I am sure it will be interesting.
Finally, we drove the rest of the way to our campsite, The Ranch House Lodge on Tolsona Creek off the Glenn Highway. Neal had reserved the site on the way to the Golden Age Games. Only two tents were allowed per site, so we chose two sites on the creek. We are fifteen miles off the Richardson, on the Glenn Highway.
The Ranch House Lodge buildings were under construction but what had already been built was quite nice. Particularly nice were the bathrooms which contained heat, light, flush toilets and a shower. Yes!
Before he'd even set up his tent, Wade got out his new fishing pole and tackle and caught several fish, one of which--the grayling mentioned at the beginning of this narrative--large enough to keep for eating. Wade cleaned it and placed it in our ice chest. Margaux was on hand and she used the pole to catch a small fish also. Her first experience fishing I believe.
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| A sunbeam seems to tell Wade where to erect his tent, but he takes no heed as he's "Gone Fishin'" |
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| Margaux's tent and mine set up in some horsetails |
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| The bicycles, abandoned for the moment in favor of fishing |
It was at this campsite that I found the plant below and others like it along the creek edge. It grew 10 or 12 inches tall from a tap root and out of a wreath of red leaves and wore tiny white flowers in reddish bracts. I carried it all the way to Valdez before a naturalist at the Crooked River Center there helped me identify it as Brook Saxifrage.
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| Brook Saxifrage |
It rained all night and was still raining in the morning.
Aside: It is still a contortionist act for me to get into and out of tent and to relieve myself each night. At least I can still do it if I use the little stool as leverage. Hate the fact that age is preventing me from being as active as I'd like.
DAY 9 -- TUESDAY, JUNE 18
GLENNALLEN (Jessica's 47th birthday)
The plan this morning is to detour off the Richardson to explore the area a bit in the van. Neal and I had been to Alaska before, but Wade and Margaux had not, so they wanted to see more than the east and west sides of the Richardson and Parks highways.
The first stop of the day was Wrangell-St Elias National Park. Here we spent the morning visiting the Interpretative and Visitor's Centers, taking pix and walking a trail.
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| Visitor's Center |
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| Exhibit at the Interpretative Center--fooled you for a moment, didn't I? |
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| A mother shows her children the moose, bear, and wolf skulls on exhibit at the Interpretative Center |
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| Osprey, Marbled Murrelet, Red-tailed Hawk, Horned Owl, Golden Eagle, Canada Goose, Mallard and Raven eggs at the Interpretative Center Not sure what the egg far right is. And to think that someone hand counted those mosquitoes for the mosquito display. |
Above is an Internet photo of Mount Wrangell and Mount Drum similar to one that was on an interpretative sign at a Wrangell-St Elias NP viewpoint. The actual mountains as we looked across the way had snow only at their tops. At this viewpoint was an interpretative sign: "Visible from here are two prominent mountains, Mount Drum and Mount Wrangell. Both are volcanoes but their silhouettes suggest a difference in their eruption histories. The younger Mount Wrangell is a shield volcano, a dome volcano built mainly of lava flows. Mount Wrangell is still an active volcano and on clear days you can see steam rising from its summit as in the photo.
"The older, Mount Drum is a strato volcano—potentially a very explosive volcano. Strato volcanoes are steeper and more conical than shield volcanoes. Blobs of molten rock exploded skyward in successive eruptions to form Mount Drum. From this angle Mount Drum (12,011 feet) appears taller than Mount Wrangell (14,163 feet), though it is actually 2000 feet shorter. But, as recently as 250,000 years ago Mount Drum was taller. That is before it blew its top!"
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| Reflections of a mountain alder forest |
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| Margaux and Wade in a mountain alder forest near some interpretative signs |
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| Margaux on a trail she and I and Wade walked |
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| Wade exploring ahead |
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| Broom Rape or Ground Cone, a parasite that grows only on the roots of Mountain Alder throughout most of Alaska. Its tiny reddish-brown flowers grow on a heavy, fleshy spike that can be eight to ten inches. |
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| Beautiful but unknown species of forest frog |
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| A species of Peltigera lichen? |
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| The mossy, spongy forest floor |
We left Wrangell St-Elias National Park and drove to beautiful Liberty Falls. Here Neal and I kept to the flat ground at the bridge, but Margaux and Wade climbed a treacherous trial alongside the falls. I could find them in my binoculars but thankfully somehow missed the spectacle of Wade's mooning us from cliff edge.
Next stop, Chitina, about 80 miles southeast of our campsite. Chitina is tiny--population of under 150 people--and its buildings look like a ghost town or old Alaska. See below.
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| Chitina Ranger Station; it is located at the end of the paved Edgerton Highway and the beginning of the gravel McCarthy Road, one of only two roads into Wrangell-St Elias Park and Preserve |
Nonetheless, some of the stores, including an art gallery, were open and the town housed a ranger station. Wade asked the Chitina ranger, a female, where we might buy fresh salmon. The ranger told of fish wheels nearby on the Copper River where we might be able to talk the fishers out of a salmon. She explained that it was illegal to sell caught fish without a state inspection. So, over Neal's protestations, we drove the van down a very narrow lumpy dirt road to a parking clearing above the river and then we walked down the bank and some steps to the river's edge.
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| Looking downstream at the Copper River, an unused fish wheel to the left |
A large family named Carr were tending their fish wheel there. They explained the fish wheel to us and after a bit of Wade's and Margaux's silver tongued smoozing--with no offer of a fish--I said, "Well, guys, looks like we return to the campsite and Wade will have to catch us another grayling for dinner." We said our good-byes, wished the family luck, and climbed to our van. Just as we were about to leave, one of the daughters ran up and said we could have a salmon.
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| The Carr family's fish wheel; it rotates, and when a fish swims into a cage, it is deposited into a holding bucket; the wheel is designed to catch the fish as they swim upstream. The family said that some days they may get only one salmon but on good days they cage up to eight or ten |
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| Unmanned fish wheels upriver from the working family |
Wade and Margo renegotiated the steps and were rewarded for their effort with an 8-pound freshly caught salmon. The head of the family even gutted the fish for them and gave the roe and heart to Margaux to hold in her hand. She reported that the heart continued to beat for quite a time on its own. Wade shot a video of the heart beating, but this blog will not allow me to attach videos. Baaah!
On the way back to the campground, we saw a roadside moose, and Margaux spotted four bald eagles on a snag in a river. By the time we backed up to see the eagles all but two were flying away. It is nice to see so many of our national bird wild and healthy. In the eighties and nineties the George Miksch Sutton Avian Research Center in Bartlesville, Oklahoma, brought bald eagle eggs from Florida and managed to reintroduce the bald eagle to Oklahoma. Jeff and I can attest to that. A couple of years ago, we were in Tulsa after a winter ice storm. On the way home along the Arkansas River, we counted 33 bald eagles in nests and bare trees. But back to Alaska . . .
After we got back to the campground, I took a shower, washed my hair, trimmed my nails, and felt clean and good. That evening we had a super supper with a choice of campfire baked or pan fried salmon, mashed potatoes, green beans, zucchini squash, and cornbread biscuits made by the owner of RV Park. We followed this feast with salmon caviar and post-Father's day champagne. The best meal of the trip!
The champagne helped me make a silly Happy Birthday video for Jess, but . . . again I cannot share it on this blog. After dinner I could barely keep my eyes open because of the champagne, the long day, and huge meal, so it was "Good night Irene."
DAY 10-- JUNE 19, 2019
GLENNALLEN TO SQUIRREL CREEK CG
On this, our tenth day on the road, Neal and I will provide sag as the young'uns cycle 37 miles to the Copper Center's Squirrel Creek CG in the Squirrel Creek State Recreation Area.
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| Internet photo of a vacant site near ours on Squirrel Creek |
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| Internet photo of our site but we were there in early summer, not fall and there was a bowed alder hanging over the site. I erected my tent in the little clearing to the left and we set up our chairs by the two big rocks and used them as end tables. |
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| The pond/ lake at Squirrel Creek CG; there was a family swimming and playing in it |
This site was beautiful, on a little meander from the creek, and there were very few other campers. When Neal and I were surveying the campsites a ruffed grouse popped out in front of the van. Then later at the campsite, Neal took a little trail to the creek and disturbed a ruffed grouse and her chicks.
We set up our tents and Wade set up his hammocks. He and Margaux slept in the hammocks that night but Wade made it only part way through the night because he was pestered by mosquitoes. He was in the smaller hammock and had no way to duck completely inside.
Best of all, our campsite was only a a click from a Russian and American roadside flag and a sign that announced: "RUSSIAN AND AMERICAN FOOD." When we arrived Neal and I drove to this lodge, the Tonsina River Lodge, to investigate, but it appeared to be closed. However, we four walked to the lodge when it opened later.
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| The entrance to the lodge was guarded by two carved bears, and the parking spots had old defunct parking meters before them as seen right. |
When we entered the lodge we were greeted by an enormous grizzly that had jumped onto a billiards table and was trying to eat a teacup yorkie. We and a single Russian male were the only patrons. The waitress, a Russian who left her children each summer with her parents in Russia and split her time between the two countries, waited on us. Margaux called her husband, Renat, and he and the waitress conferred in Russian. Together they told us the tastiest dishes on the menu to order. We all began with a bowl of borscht. I ordered pickled vegetables and Wade shared some of his with me also. So good. Cannot remember the rest of the dishes but the meal was different and a delight.
After our meal, we took some fun pix outside the lodge, using the moose horns to our advantage.
On the way back to the campsite Wade and Margaux and I took a detour and found a trail to the Tonsina River that came out on the rock strewn riverside near the bridge. W & M sunbathed and I kicked around taking pix of flowers and searching for a heart-shaped rock for Jeff. After finding a perfect heart shaped rock years ago, on most of my trips without Jeff, I search for such a rock. Wade and Margaux joined me in my search but we could find not a single heart-shaped rock in the many beautiful river rounded ones. Later, I found the heart-shaped rock, left, in Valdez. It's even frosted with quartz.
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| The Alaskan Riviera |
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| Dwarf Fireweed and Tundra Arnica |
Neal and I returned to camp before the sunbathers. When they walked into camp, Margaux announced that she had swum across the lake! Wade said, "Yeah and you should have seen what she wasn't wearing when she did it, too." Maybe she was training for the swim portion of another pentathlon. When I asked if she had seen the scaup that I had seen across the lake earlier, she acknowledged that she had swum not too far from it.
Much bickering about the route and inconsequential things this evening. I think it is nerves and thinking about the next day's miles and ride down Thompson Pass. How well I remember struggling up Thompson Pass in the rain in 2002.
DAY 11 -- JUNE 20
SQUIRREL CREEK TO VALDEZ
This morning after breakfast, we broke camp and Margaux and Wade mounted their trusty steeds for the 83-mile cycle to Valdez. Neal is going to cycle, too, but planned to start at the Worthington Glacier for the 26-mile downhill to the Valdez KOA at the bottom of Thompson Pass. (There's a story here.)
The miles long Thompson Pass downhill was the reward looked for by both men at the end of the day's ride. However, Margaux--a very strong but neophyte cyclist--wasn't so sure. She'd easily climbed each mountain but disliked the speed of the downhills. I will provide a sag stop along the way and also at the Worthington Glacier where Neal is to begin his ride. If any of the riders decide to sag, I am ready.
I set up a nice sag at a rest stop about half way out. It was off the road and had toilets and a picnic area. Neal went out to the road to watch for the cyclists and I set up the stop, first unloading everything and carting it to a picnic table under a pavilion in the shade. Ouch! The moskies were plentiful and fierce. So, I jockeyed the van around so that it opened in the sun where there were no mosquitoes, and then lugged all the stuff back up. I prepared bars, peanut butter squares, fruit, water, etc. and thought I had pretty much nailed it until I got a text from Wiseass Wade that included the photo below and read: "Now this is a proper rest stop! Susan, your pb&j squares are the best, until jellyass sat on them." He had met a group of commercial cyclists who were riding the route.
By the time Wade and Margaux had reached the Worthington Glacier, Neal had already left for the run through the pass. The first half mile was uphill and first I watched Neal climb it and then, after the young'uns arrived and had refreshed, I watched the two of them climb. I waited quite a time before starting out because I wanted to give them a run without having to keep track of me. Pix below of the Worthington Glacier. I love that I captured a contrail.
When I eventually passed W & M, Wade gave me the "OK" sweep, but Margaux signaled that she wanted to sag. The steep downhill used up too much of her adrenaline. She and I then stopped at the waterfalls in the canyon near the bottom where we took the pix below while we waited for Wade.
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| Me before Bridal Veil Falls |
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| A poor view of Horsetail Falls |
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| Bridal Veil Falls flowing into Ptarmigan Creek |
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| Ptarmigan creek turning into a braided creek at the end of the pass |
When Wade arrived, he took some pix of the falls and then he, too, climbed into the sag wagon. We had not seen Neal in the pass, but just as we were wondering about his descent, he called. "Where were we?" He was at the KOA campgrounds office and was worried. He also had a story to tell (see below).
I asked to speak to the campground host and asked if they had a cabin available. (Margaux and I had not-so-secretly been planning on renting a cabin if one was free.) There was a free cabin. Having slept in bare bones KOA cabins before, I asked how it was equipped--two beds with linens, full bath and shower. Only thing missing was the chocolate on the pillow. M & I promptly rented the cabin for only a few dollars more apiece than we had paid at the Steakhouse motel.
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| Margaux before our tiny KOA cabin. Note the happy look on her face. Note the freshly washed hair . . . |
Wade said he never would have sagged had he known how close we were to the KOA, which was only a couple of miles away. When we pulled in, Neal greeted us excitedly and told his story: Here's how he tells it on Facebook:
The guys set up their tents right next to the cabin and used the picnic table in the back to heat coffee water. Margaux and I took turns in the shower and asked the guys to use the campground showers because our room was so small.
After the four of us were cleaned up and ready, we drove into Valdez and ate dinner at the Alaska Halibut House, a restaurant recommended by all. The Halibut house was an unassuming, family owned restaurant on a corner. It had a fresh salad bar, and served homemade clam chowder, and local fish and burgers. On the way to the Halibut House, we passed an Espresso shop named Latte Dah which name we thought clever.
That evening Margaux and I were glad to be tucked into our little A-frame cabin. The beds had a patchwork design coverlet but were very small and tucked right under the A-line slant. The 6'11" guy whom we'd met earlier would not have fit in the beds or been able to stand in much of the main room. The bathroom, however had regular walls and ceiling. We both slept well.
NOTE: The tale has become too long and unwieldy for a single post, so if you are not as weary of reading as I am of creating, scroll to and hit the "OLDER POST" link below to learn about our final four days and the drive back to Oklahoma.
