The last two nights I went over to the main town park in Soldotna AK to go salmon fishing along with hundred of others dotted along the Kenai River that runs through town. Tonight's one landed Silver (also known as Red) Salmon was 28 inches and weighed somewhere around 7-8 pounds! The night before I landed a 24 inch. These are the first two salmon I have caught other than the much smaller land-locked variety when I fished with my Great Uncle Ed as a sixteen year old on Flathead Lake, Montana. It has been a thrill; these fish are great fighters. I had hooked many more but they managed to get off the line before I could land them.
Our next door neighbor in the RV park where we are staying paid for a guided boat trip about five miles downstream from where we were located. He showed me the pictures of proof as he described his 48" and his 50" fifty pound King Salmon he caught and released. Because of the nature of our travels and the size of our freezer compartment, I am done for awhile unless I catch and release only. After fileting the two fish, I have at least six meals for the three of us in storage.
My dad has elected to not fish, but I was able to convince him to come and watch the action tonight. His eyesight is getting worse by the week and he will need to have some surgery to correct his vision when we are back in the Denver area in early Fall. He is a good sport about it all, reminding me of his 14lb. Lake Trout he caught in Camloops, B.C. some decades earlier, his largest ever. Louise seemed to be pleased for me these past two evenings, taking pictures and full of congratulatory remarks, particularly tonight since she watched me pull it in.
You know that you have been fishing when even upon washing your hands twice, thoroughly, your fingers still smell like fish. This is a burden I am willing to pay for the experience of catching such great sportfish! As I waded knee-deep in the Kenai River casting my lure out in the swift current, I was again glad for the decision I made to retire early and travel with my wife, Louise, and my dad, Floyd. These days will also be remembered for the unique gift to fish such a river in such a beautiful place. We really like Soldotna, a newer town of several thousand folk. This area was basically wilderness back in the late 50s until the federal government opened it to Homesteading. We have about another month in Alaska before we start heading back south into BC and the lower 48. An yes, I have more fishing to do, particularly for Halibut! To do that, I will need to break down and pay the piper and go on a 1/2 or full day boat.
Thursday, July 21, 2011
Friday, July 15, 2011
Fossils, Agates, Eagles and Hillslides!
Now that I have piqued your interest (3rd definition of the word at Dictionary.com, not the first or second!), I wanted to remind some of you that follow the blog that if you put your email address in at the top of the front page you will receive automatic emails when there are new blog entries. You can also leave comments.
The campsite we stay at for a few nights in Ninilchik was wooded and on the bluff, but what was most interesting was the campground host of the state recreation area. Rick, who lives alone and looks like a salty fisherman of a sort, showed me his great find on the beach- dug right out of the sand during one of his daily walks. It was beautiful, polished shades of brown, either a tooth or a claw. Those who are supposed to know, including some fossil experts in Montana (where Rich spends six months out of the year) are stumped by the find. He reported that a local woman, upon seeing his find offered him $500 immediately. He laughed and said, "Oh, no, I can't do that. She added another "0" to her offer, but he declined. Quite a find on just another beach walk. He told me that about 16 miles South of Ninilchik fossilized Mammoth bones have recently been found washed ashore. We plan to stop there for a few days on our way out of the Kenai.
I have yet to take my Halibut day boat fishing excursion, instead, I bought a good used Halibut fishing pole, a heavy duty real, 50 lb. fabric testline with really BIG hooks, called "c" hooks. They curl around more than the typical "j" hooks most of us have seen and used. The bait I bought were Herring, about the same size as the trout on a good day of fishing in Colorado. Armed with gear and bate and new rubber mucking boots, I set off to catch my limit casting from shore. I fished three or four times over the next couple of days, mostly at high tide, but to no avail. Skunked, yep! No fish story here, but I am undaunted. Well, what does this have to do with the title of this posting? When you are skunked in the fishing department you can always go agate hunting. Both Louise and I have been successful, but just like fish, they are no easy to catch (or find). All three of us have spent many, many hours over the past week rock hounding and combing the beach.
With pockets full of interesting finds, we cull, sort and sometimes store the precious finds.
Bald Eagles are everywhere up here. They love to cruise the winds along the bluffs and they rule the roost when it comes to beach food. They live together with sea gulls; the gulls, however, know their place. The eagles are truly magnificent creatures and very LARGE in person. Both Louise and I have been able to picture capture them in flight and perching on the cliffs and trees, oftentimes eliciting a sense of awe by their sight.
Hillslides, not hillsides. Yep, within a 1/4 mile of where we had just walked, a goodly chunk of bluff gave way and crashed down onto the sandy shoreline. The avalanche of sand and sandstone created what looks like a sandstorm cloud, which took several minutes to dissipate. WE were thankful that we had decided to turn back and to stay away from the bluff that seemed to always be shedding some sand and stones.
We traveled to Homer today, a relatively short drive from Ninilchik. We elected to go on the cheap and dry camp in one of the town's RV settings along what is know as the "Homer Spit," a jet of land about two miles out into the Sound. It is one of the most beautiful panoramic scenes we have ever witnessed, but that is another entry for another time. I do have to share before I sign off, I saw a King Salmon that someone caught ten minutes before I arrived to try my luck at King fishing, it was HUGE, perhaps 3 feet long. Talk about getting someone interested in fishing for Kings the first time in my life. Yes, the two hours of fishing netted me zippo, but then there is tomorrow!
The campsite we stay at for a few nights in Ninilchik was wooded and on the bluff, but what was most interesting was the campground host of the state recreation area. Rick, who lives alone and looks like a salty fisherman of a sort, showed me his great find on the beach- dug right out of the sand during one of his daily walks. It was beautiful, polished shades of brown, either a tooth or a claw. Those who are supposed to know, including some fossil experts in Montana (where Rich spends six months out of the year) are stumped by the find. He reported that a local woman, upon seeing his find offered him $500 immediately. He laughed and said, "Oh, no, I can't do that. She added another "0" to her offer, but he declined. Quite a find on just another beach walk. He told me that about 16 miles South of Ninilchik fossilized Mammoth bones have recently been found washed ashore. We plan to stop there for a few days on our way out of the Kenai.
I have yet to take my Halibut day boat fishing excursion, instead, I bought a good used Halibut fishing pole, a heavy duty real, 50 lb. fabric testline with really BIG hooks, called "c" hooks. They curl around more than the typical "j" hooks most of us have seen and used. The bait I bought were Herring, about the same size as the trout on a good day of fishing in Colorado. Armed with gear and bate and new rubber mucking boots, I set off to catch my limit casting from shore. I fished three or four times over the next couple of days, mostly at high tide, but to no avail. Skunked, yep! No fish story here, but I am undaunted. Well, what does this have to do with the title of this posting? When you are skunked in the fishing department you can always go agate hunting. Both Louise and I have been successful, but just like fish, they are no easy to catch (or find). All three of us have spent many, many hours over the past week rock hounding and combing the beach.
With pockets full of interesting finds, we cull, sort and sometimes store the precious finds.
Bald Eagles are everywhere up here. They love to cruise the winds along the bluffs and they rule the roost when it comes to beach food. They live together with sea gulls; the gulls, however, know their place. The eagles are truly magnificent creatures and very LARGE in person. Both Louise and I have been able to picture capture them in flight and perching on the cliffs and trees, oftentimes eliciting a sense of awe by their sight.
Hillslides, not hillsides. Yep, within a 1/4 mile of where we had just walked, a goodly chunk of bluff gave way and crashed down onto the sandy shoreline. The avalanche of sand and sandstone created what looks like a sandstorm cloud, which took several minutes to dissipate. WE were thankful that we had decided to turn back and to stay away from the bluff that seemed to always be shedding some sand and stones.
We traveled to Homer today, a relatively short drive from Ninilchik. We elected to go on the cheap and dry camp in one of the town's RV settings along what is know as the "Homer Spit," a jet of land about two miles out into the Sound. It is one of the most beautiful panoramic scenes we have ever witnessed, but that is another entry for another time. I do have to share before I sign off, I saw a King Salmon that someone caught ten minutes before I arrived to try my luck at King fishing, it was HUGE, perhaps 3 feet long. Talk about getting someone interested in fishing for Kings the first time in my life. Yes, the two hours of fishing netted me zippo, but then there is tomorrow!
Friday, July 8, 2011
Seaside Wonders
I mentioned in the last blog entry that I found Hope in Alaska, that is Hope, AK. The town of 130 year round residents, with the aid of a lot of volunteers and a myriad of committees, maintains this little town and its historic buildings including a fine free museum. It's a lazy little town with two streets and a few offshoots, all in gravel or dirt. No sidewalks here and no even a little grocery. 16 miles off the main road that goes between Anchorage and the towns of Seward, Soldotna and Homer. Dad and I toured the museum while Louise was busy getting acquainted with one of the town's artisans, a jewelry maker and husband, painter. She was welcomed into their home to tour the house that was originally a barn built in 1916 with an add-on decades later. A picture post card look, a log cabin of true vintage.
The cabin/former barn was made from beetle-killed spruce. Dad and I were toured around by the volunteer lady, a resident of 30 years, where we saw an old authentic smith's shop, trapper's cabin, a mining dorm and the original one room school house. These small town gems continue to be treats for us on our grand adventure.
Last evening the three of us went to the local bar, dad and I enjoying a German beer and Louise her own drink, a diet Coke. We did this for the music, a local guitarist and singer who entertains every Thursday night. There were a lot of 30 somethings in attendance as well; part of a group of 20 young adults traveling as friends and associates of the Sierra Club. We visited with a New Hampshire couple on their second year of retirement, and second annual trip to Alaska. We enjoyed the company and the music; the music only as long as our ears could stand the overdone volume. But, there was foot-tapp'n and good conversation lasting into the evening.
We pulled up stakes and headed toward Seward or Homer, not knowing until a decision needed to be made, opting for Homer first. As with this split decision, we made another leading us to turn off about 45 miles short of Homer on the Sterling Highway. I had just made comment that I would like to park the trailer for the evening with an unfettered view of Cooks Inlet and the range of snow capped mountains across the Inlet. Within five minutes we see a sign for an RV park called Sea View, and here I sit in my lazy boy chair with a 180 degree wide view overlooking the Inlet and watching Bald Eagles fly by in the currents of air. What a life we are living, what a blessing from the Lord, the Creator, who made all this beautiful scenery and provided us the means and the health to do this trip.
Later today or tomorrow morning we are going to go about 8 miles toward Homer, with the proprietor, to an area we can access the beach. We are on a bluff, perhaps a hundred feet above the water, but beach combing beckons us once again, a five or six week departure since the Puget Sound. This weekend or early next week I plan to take a half day boat to try my hand at Halibut fishing. A husband and wife at the RV park went fishing early this morning and together they kept, among many caught, 80 lbs worth of Halibut. Another fellow I met today a the grocery store just caught a 40lb. King Salmon on the Kenai River. Perhaps there are a few fish still needing to be caught. I will let you know.
The cabin/former barn was made from beetle-killed spruce. Dad and I were toured around by the volunteer lady, a resident of 30 years, where we saw an old authentic smith's shop, trapper's cabin, a mining dorm and the original one room school house. These small town gems continue to be treats for us on our grand adventure.
Last evening the three of us went to the local bar, dad and I enjoying a German beer and Louise her own drink, a diet Coke. We did this for the music, a local guitarist and singer who entertains every Thursday night. There were a lot of 30 somethings in attendance as well; part of a group of 20 young adults traveling as friends and associates of the Sierra Club. We visited with a New Hampshire couple on their second year of retirement, and second annual trip to Alaska. We enjoyed the company and the music; the music only as long as our ears could stand the overdone volume. But, there was foot-tapp'n and good conversation lasting into the evening.
We pulled up stakes and headed toward Seward or Homer, not knowing until a decision needed to be made, opting for Homer first. As with this split decision, we made another leading us to turn off about 45 miles short of Homer on the Sterling Highway. I had just made comment that I would like to park the trailer for the evening with an unfettered view of Cooks Inlet and the range of snow capped mountains across the Inlet. Within five minutes we see a sign for an RV park called Sea View, and here I sit in my lazy boy chair with a 180 degree wide view overlooking the Inlet and watching Bald Eagles fly by in the currents of air. What a life we are living, what a blessing from the Lord, the Creator, who made all this beautiful scenery and provided us the means and the health to do this trip.
Later today or tomorrow morning we are going to go about 8 miles toward Homer, with the proprietor, to an area we can access the beach. We are on a bluff, perhaps a hundred feet above the water, but beach combing beckons us once again, a five or six week departure since the Puget Sound. This weekend or early next week I plan to take a half day boat to try my hand at Halibut fishing. A husband and wife at the RV park went fishing early this morning and together they kept, among many caught, 80 lbs worth of Halibut. Another fellow I met today a the grocery store just caught a 40lb. King Salmon on the Kenai River. Perhaps there are a few fish still needing to be caught. I will let you know.
Thursday, July 7, 2011
Turning the Lazy Boy Around
I am speaking of the chair, not me! In our travel trailer are two lazy boy chairs, normally faced inward, but when the views get great we turn them around facing the large living room window and beyond. Such is the case for us in Hope, Alaska. Yesterday we picked up stakes at Wasilla where we spent the last week relaxing, touristing (Is that a word?), and enjoying a RV Bar-B-Que potluck. The mountains surround Wasilla reminded us a bit of some we have experienced in Colorado. With anticipation and excitement we broke camp, drove through Anchorage and headed to the Kenai Peninsula! At the end of the freeway just out of town we turn slightly and moved out of the trees to find ourselves surrounding by increasing grandeur of the Prince William Sound and an area known as Turnagain Arm. Just traveling on the highway we saw a dozen or more glaciers, some so big and steep that the snow/ice folded on itself almost like waves frozen in time. My dad, Floyd, keep exclaiming, "holy smokes!" Around the next turn or twist of the road a new set of mountains or valleys came into view and more exclamations of the same were pronounced. I was so taken by it all that I exclaimed, "I think I might be having a spiritual experience!" Of course, family so familiar, took it upon themselves to say it was about time and they welcomed it, all said in jest, I hope.
Since we have a few weeks we can spend on the Peninsula we decided to take the first paved road off the main beaten path to Seward or to Homer, favorites among fishermen. We traveled the 16 miles and found Hope. If you are seeking hope, we found it! It is a small community on the edge of other side of the Prince William Sound. We found a little RV park at the end of the main street on the edge of solid ground with an unfettered view of the mountains that come down to water's edge. The Sound is perhaps five miles across at this point and we can see the traffic of the highway, the same highway we traveled to get the Peninsula.
Louise and Floyd had already called it a night, but I was duty bound to head out and walk across the grass covered mud flats to see the sights I only experience in a limited manner the day before. The driver must keep most of his attention to the road, or at least a safe driver should. The tidal action is the central feature of the Sound, water rushing like a river. We have never seen such a sight. The sound was that of the seashore and the water of the sound is a muddy brown from the silt and glacier effluence. Nevertheless, it was a sight to see. The sun was still up, well beyond 10:30, breeze blowing, water rushing, sea gulls careening through the air. Resurrection Creek, a small body of water flowing next to Hope rushed into the sound. I spent the time basking in the experience spending no little time taking pictures, some in panorama. Breathtaking. We are spending the day here to visit the museum, the library, to tourist shop ending the day in the one local gathering spot, the bar, not so much for the beer, but for music and songs from the locals, a weekly event every Thursday evening through the summer.
One last thing about this town. The 1964 earthquake, the largest yet recorded in North America, lowered the Prince William Sound by six feet which was not a good thing for the town of Hope. Spring runoff meant that half the town was flooded. Where we sit at the edge of Main Street was the new edge of the Sound. Old historic buildings were moved upland. Seven decades later, the water's edge is several hundred yards away from us now, the result of a general uplifting of the whole land, perhaps waiting for the next Big One. In the 64 Quake, this town shook for four minutes.
Since we have a few weeks we can spend on the Peninsula we decided to take the first paved road off the main beaten path to Seward or to Homer, favorites among fishermen. We traveled the 16 miles and found Hope. If you are seeking hope, we found it! It is a small community on the edge of other side of the Prince William Sound. We found a little RV park at the end of the main street on the edge of solid ground with an unfettered view of the mountains that come down to water's edge. The Sound is perhaps five miles across at this point and we can see the traffic of the highway, the same highway we traveled to get the Peninsula.
Louise and Floyd had already called it a night, but I was duty bound to head out and walk across the grass covered mud flats to see the sights I only experience in a limited manner the day before. The driver must keep most of his attention to the road, or at least a safe driver should. The tidal action is the central feature of the Sound, water rushing like a river. We have never seen such a sight. The sound was that of the seashore and the water of the sound is a muddy brown from the silt and glacier effluence. Nevertheless, it was a sight to see. The sun was still up, well beyond 10:30, breeze blowing, water rushing, sea gulls careening through the air. Resurrection Creek, a small body of water flowing next to Hope rushed into the sound. I spent the time basking in the experience spending no little time taking pictures, some in panorama. Breathtaking. We are spending the day here to visit the museum, the library, to tourist shop ending the day in the one local gathering spot, the bar, not so much for the beer, but for music and songs from the locals, a weekly event every Thursday evening through the summer.
One last thing about this town. The 1964 earthquake, the largest yet recorded in North America, lowered the Prince William Sound by six feet which was not a good thing for the town of Hope. Spring runoff meant that half the town was flooded. Where we sit at the edge of Main Street was the new edge of the Sound. Old historic buildings were moved upland. Seven decades later, the water's edge is several hundred yards away from us now, the result of a general uplifting of the whole land, perhaps waiting for the next Big One. In the 64 Quake, this town shook for four minutes.
Sunday, June 26, 2011
A Signature Day - 90 Miles Into Denali
The day started out a bit "iffy" with sprinkles and overcast skies, but we have purchased our tickets by reservation and this was the day we chose to take the shuttle bus as far in as it drives, about 90 miles into the park. I had prayed, even just for the sake of my dad, Floyd, that we would be able to see the great Mt. McKinley, or as it is becoming more known as Denali Mountain. Our ride was scheduled for 12 hours, six in and six out with several stops along the way, both ways. We had about 40 folk and a "retired" (for 11 years) driver. Although he disclaimed right off that his narration was limited and that he was not a tour guide but a bus driver, he pleased us all with interesting and informative narration - just the right amount. Although I was initially focused on seeing the BIG mountain, what we also saw was of equal interest, the wild life; daul sheep, moose, grizzly bears, red-tail fox, snowshoe hares and other critters.
My least favorite part of the day (both directions) were some areas where we were on the side of mountains on single lane dirt roads with no guardrails and occasional traffic coming from the other direction. I was compelled on a few occasions to close my eyes and ask God for traveling mercies and safety. I even quote Psalm 121 about where my help comes from, "the maker of heaven and earth." Even on the side of a hill hundreds of feet above the valley floor, I can trust him for my safety and security.
We all had a good time, despite the few miles of hairpin turns high in the mountains. There were a lot of photo-opps and sightings. As the day turned to afternoon and early evening, the clouds kept lifting or becoming fewer so much so that we were able to see the high peaks that I pray for earlier in the day. Denali is 20,300 feet above see level with an 18,000 foot rise from its base. What I will do is post some pictures and let you know of these when we get back to some electrical plugins and I have time to edit down the size of the pictures. My camera is over 14 megapixels and I know many internet sites don't allow more than one or two megs as attachments. We pull up stakes tomorrow, presently at Healy AK, and move down the road closer to Anchorage.
My least favorite part of the day (both directions) were some areas where we were on the side of mountains on single lane dirt roads with no guardrails and occasional traffic coming from the other direction. I was compelled on a few occasions to close my eyes and ask God for traveling mercies and safety. I even quote Psalm 121 about where my help comes from, "the maker of heaven and earth." Even on the side of a hill hundreds of feet above the valley floor, I can trust him for my safety and security.
We all had a good time, despite the few miles of hairpin turns high in the mountains. There were a lot of photo-opps and sightings. As the day turned to afternoon and early evening, the clouds kept lifting or becoming fewer so much so that we were able to see the high peaks that I pray for earlier in the day. Denali is 20,300 feet above see level with an 18,000 foot rise from its base. What I will do is post some pictures and let you know of these when we get back to some electrical plugins and I have time to edit down the size of the pictures. My camera is over 14 megapixels and I know many internet sites don't allow more than one or two megs as attachments. We pull up stakes tomorrow, presently at Healy AK, and move down the road closer to Anchorage.
Saturday, June 25, 2011
Catching Up on the Travels, As Promised
Have you ever noticed that when people describe the same events that they experience that it sound so different? This has been our experience with their descriptions of the Alaska Highway and the Top of the World Highway. We heard from various folk the highway, although paved, was rough; others spoke of the potholes, others spoke of the narrow and harrowing times on the Top of the World Highway. I will add to this descriptive menagery.
What first comes to mind is that the highways are LONG. The size of British Columbia, the Yukon and Alaska are not, in my opinion (and experience) accurately displayed on the maps we have. To see our odometer report over 800 miles since Whitehorse, Yukon gives you some idea of the expanses up here in the North Country. No only felt on our road-weary bodies, but also our credit cards, the roads are expansive, long and often-times lonely, only accompanied by other occasional truck and RV drivers and a few bears or other wilderness animals. If you want open expanse, come to these areas, particularly the Yukon. If you had concern about the health of the world's forests, be no longer concerned! We witnessed first hand hundreds and hundreds of miles of lush forests, seemingly untouched by humanity. Roads of any kind, improved or unimproved, are rare in these parts, so to imagine what lay just beyond one's view is to experience wilderness without the risk or hassle. The ribbon of civilization called highways is our safety link to civilization altering perspective a person may have concerning the urge to get out in the wild outdoors. We welcomed the little spots of civilization, the gas stations, the rare signage of the "world famous" cinnamon rolls or hot coffee. And yet, when we stopped as road-weary travelers, we experience for a brief time other people's normal world, their center of the universe, their norm. They were raising families, eking out a living and experiencing simple joys.
Colorado feels very much South up here. When we initially entered Canada, using the central route through British Columbia, we felt north, only to be surprised by the lush valleys, commerce and orchards and LARGE LONG lakes, deep lakes left from the action of mile high glaciers. As we moved north, two weeks in BC alone, so did the blooming flowers. We could almost imagine that the flowers were blooming just ahead of our truck as we drove over the hill or turned a corner. Those flowers most enjoyed the immediate roadside, open to the sun and soaking up the runoff of the road; colors of purple, yellow, blue and white spreading out before us through countless miles hour after hour. I thought often seeing this sight, that it sure beats working in downtown Denver with its man-planted flower pots dotting the 16th Street Mall. The greatest tempor to our experience of openness and expansive beauty was the cost of gasoline, influenced by that same remoteness and rarity; $1.64 per liter, 3.8 liters per gallon = $6.23/gallon. Our truck gets about 8 miles per gallon pulling our home, which means the cost to travel a mile in the upper yukon was 78 cents per mile! We have had to just accept this cost as the price of the experience. Anyway you skin this trip, either by air and car rental, RV and car, car and bed 'n breakfast, truck and trailer, or guide tours - it is a costly affair, perhaps once in a lifetime.
One of our highlights in this costly affair was a stop at some hot springs associated with one of the BC Territory parks. After we set up in one of the most wooded campgrounds we had experienced to that point, a thousand meter walk from our door landed us in a natural setting in its own microcosm of cool tropic ferns and flowers due to the geothermal heat of the water. Louise and I enjoyed the evening's soak amongst newly discovered friends doing the same thing after a long day on the road.
I will briefly say that we liked Whitehorse, the principal city of Yukon Territory. There were many things to see from museums to short road excursions and, of course, the ever-present Walmart! This was a real community, an outpost of civilization in SW Yukon, an oasis of shopping. I think I share in a previous Log, our one day trip to Skagway and our boat ride to Juneau and back. An 18 hour day and one of our best. Since we realized that this trip would likely not be repeated we decided to get off the Alaskan Highway and take the loop to Dawson City and the Top of the World Highway.
Dawson City, truly on the edge of wilderness. Yes, a rich mining history, interesting buildings from the late 1800s and early 1900s, but most tourist attractions cost more than we were prepared to pay. We camped outside of Dawson City on this past Saturday evening and experienced mosquito in numbers and appetite beyond what we knew from previous stops. We got up early and set out to explore the town and visit a church of the Lord's chosing. We stopped at a Catholic Church, one of two of the oldest in town. During its heyday Dawson City had over 30,000 people living in and around the town. Church were built to accommodate hundred of parishoners, this church building was no exception although smaller than an abandoned Presbyterian church which could seat 600. The priest, a man in his 30s was an African from Nigeria, experiencing his second year in Dawson City. He was clearly dedicated to his "Mission" work, challenged by the season where his congregation needed to make hay when the sun was shining. Tourism is everything in Dawson City in the summer. There were 38 of us, including the long hairs and long bearded organist, with close to 35 of us visiting! The Catholic Church service is very similar to the Anglican service, congregationally participatory in its reading of scriptures. The first thing the priest needed to do in the service was ask for volunteers for the various readings; the service then commenced. At the end of the service he asked us all to introduce ourselves, which we did. Then, in true remote fashion, the priest asked if anyone was going to Whitehorse the next day, trying to hitch a ride to pick up his truck that was at a shop getting fixed. We saw no mechanic's shop in Dawson. Louise saw him walking in town later in the day and he declared he was not successful with his request, yet. She said we would have offered, but we were heading the opposite direction having just experienced that highway the day before. My own personal observation: This man, from a different culture and climate, isolated as he was, truly felt privileged to serve this parish and seemed to be very connected to Jesus Christ in faith. When we were leaving the service I felt compelled to thank him for his dedication to the Gospel, the Good News of Christ saving work on Cross. He seemed truly appreciative of the comment. God bless his work, small on numbers, large in faith.
Top of the World Highway (my last part of this Log today). We decided to leave Dawson City under cover of night. Not. No night hear this time of year. But we did set out on this Father's day first crossing the Yukon on a small open topped ferry. The ferry, run by the town of Dawson Creek linked the town to the road eventually linking back to the Alaskan Highway and the town of Tok. It got its name because the highway for a hundred miles mostly is built on the top of the mountains, unlikely most roads which go through valleys and ravines. We enjoyed vista views that evening at almost 360 degree views. We found a wide spot in the road (mostly graveled with an occasional respite of pavement from years gone by). It was a remote and open location, shared by one other RV that came upon our spot 15 minutes later. It rained all night and I was concerned what lay ahead for that day, desirous of the following day when we could look back on the experience. That next morning I had a real bad choice to make, either to go forward or go back the way we had come. Fortunately, there was a road crew that briefly stopped at our spot and I asked the lady what might lay ahead. She said it would be muddy in spots but that if we took our time we should get through. Ignoring what the fellow RVer had to say (he had come from that direction in his motorhome pulling a car), with a concerted pray together, we forged forward. It was an exhausting day of travel, sometimes going only 15 mph, the road seemingly never ending. It sprinkled most of the morning. We stopped in Chicken, AK, having crossed the border successfully a few miles up the road, to be relieved by the sight of our first long stretch of pavement. Our truck was 2/3 of the way up caked with Yukon mud. The running board was an inch deep in spots. We made it, WE SURVIVED THE TOP OF THE WORLD HIGHWAY! In Tok, Louise bought a bumper sticker with the same statement. This is a road I care not to experience again unless I was not pulling anything behind me.
That is all for now. I hope you enjoyed the read at least as much as I enjoyed recording the experience the three of us had, as I travel with Louise and Floyd. -Kevin
What first comes to mind is that the highways are LONG. The size of British Columbia, the Yukon and Alaska are not, in my opinion (and experience) accurately displayed on the maps we have. To see our odometer report over 800 miles since Whitehorse, Yukon gives you some idea of the expanses up here in the North Country. No only felt on our road-weary bodies, but also our credit cards, the roads are expansive, long and often-times lonely, only accompanied by other occasional truck and RV drivers and a few bears or other wilderness animals. If you want open expanse, come to these areas, particularly the Yukon. If you had concern about the health of the world's forests, be no longer concerned! We witnessed first hand hundreds and hundreds of miles of lush forests, seemingly untouched by humanity. Roads of any kind, improved or unimproved, are rare in these parts, so to imagine what lay just beyond one's view is to experience wilderness without the risk or hassle. The ribbon of civilization called highways is our safety link to civilization altering perspective a person may have concerning the urge to get out in the wild outdoors. We welcomed the little spots of civilization, the gas stations, the rare signage of the "world famous" cinnamon rolls or hot coffee. And yet, when we stopped as road-weary travelers, we experience for a brief time other people's normal world, their center of the universe, their norm. They were raising families, eking out a living and experiencing simple joys.
Colorado feels very much South up here. When we initially entered Canada, using the central route through British Columbia, we felt north, only to be surprised by the lush valleys, commerce and orchards and LARGE LONG lakes, deep lakes left from the action of mile high glaciers. As we moved north, two weeks in BC alone, so did the blooming flowers. We could almost imagine that the flowers were blooming just ahead of our truck as we drove over the hill or turned a corner. Those flowers most enjoyed the immediate roadside, open to the sun and soaking up the runoff of the road; colors of purple, yellow, blue and white spreading out before us through countless miles hour after hour. I thought often seeing this sight, that it sure beats working in downtown Denver with its man-planted flower pots dotting the 16th Street Mall. The greatest tempor to our experience of openness and expansive beauty was the cost of gasoline, influenced by that same remoteness and rarity; $1.64 per liter, 3.8 liters per gallon = $6.23/gallon. Our truck gets about 8 miles per gallon pulling our home, which means the cost to travel a mile in the upper yukon was 78 cents per mile! We have had to just accept this cost as the price of the experience. Anyway you skin this trip, either by air and car rental, RV and car, car and bed 'n breakfast, truck and trailer, or guide tours - it is a costly affair, perhaps once in a lifetime.
One of our highlights in this costly affair was a stop at some hot springs associated with one of the BC Territory parks. After we set up in one of the most wooded campgrounds we had experienced to that point, a thousand meter walk from our door landed us in a natural setting in its own microcosm of cool tropic ferns and flowers due to the geothermal heat of the water. Louise and I enjoyed the evening's soak amongst newly discovered friends doing the same thing after a long day on the road.
I will briefly say that we liked Whitehorse, the principal city of Yukon Territory. There were many things to see from museums to short road excursions and, of course, the ever-present Walmart! This was a real community, an outpost of civilization in SW Yukon, an oasis of shopping. I think I share in a previous Log, our one day trip to Skagway and our boat ride to Juneau and back. An 18 hour day and one of our best. Since we realized that this trip would likely not be repeated we decided to get off the Alaskan Highway and take the loop to Dawson City and the Top of the World Highway.
Dawson City, truly on the edge of wilderness. Yes, a rich mining history, interesting buildings from the late 1800s and early 1900s, but most tourist attractions cost more than we were prepared to pay. We camped outside of Dawson City on this past Saturday evening and experienced mosquito in numbers and appetite beyond what we knew from previous stops. We got up early and set out to explore the town and visit a church of the Lord's chosing. We stopped at a Catholic Church, one of two of the oldest in town. During its heyday Dawson City had over 30,000 people living in and around the town. Church were built to accommodate hundred of parishoners, this church building was no exception although smaller than an abandoned Presbyterian church which could seat 600. The priest, a man in his 30s was an African from Nigeria, experiencing his second year in Dawson City. He was clearly dedicated to his "Mission" work, challenged by the season where his congregation needed to make hay when the sun was shining. Tourism is everything in Dawson City in the summer. There were 38 of us, including the long hairs and long bearded organist, with close to 35 of us visiting! The Catholic Church service is very similar to the Anglican service, congregationally participatory in its reading of scriptures. The first thing the priest needed to do in the service was ask for volunteers for the various readings; the service then commenced. At the end of the service he asked us all to introduce ourselves, which we did. Then, in true remote fashion, the priest asked if anyone was going to Whitehorse the next day, trying to hitch a ride to pick up his truck that was at a shop getting fixed. We saw no mechanic's shop in Dawson. Louise saw him walking in town later in the day and he declared he was not successful with his request, yet. She said we would have offered, but we were heading the opposite direction having just experienced that highway the day before. My own personal observation: This man, from a different culture and climate, isolated as he was, truly felt privileged to serve this parish and seemed to be very connected to Jesus Christ in faith. When we were leaving the service I felt compelled to thank him for his dedication to the Gospel, the Good News of Christ saving work on Cross. He seemed truly appreciative of the comment. God bless his work, small on numbers, large in faith.
Top of the World Highway (my last part of this Log today). We decided to leave Dawson City under cover of night. Not. No night hear this time of year. But we did set out on this Father's day first crossing the Yukon on a small open topped ferry. The ferry, run by the town of Dawson Creek linked the town to the road eventually linking back to the Alaskan Highway and the town of Tok. It got its name because the highway for a hundred miles mostly is built on the top of the mountains, unlikely most roads which go through valleys and ravines. We enjoyed vista views that evening at almost 360 degree views. We found a wide spot in the road (mostly graveled with an occasional respite of pavement from years gone by). It was a remote and open location, shared by one other RV that came upon our spot 15 minutes later. It rained all night and I was concerned what lay ahead for that day, desirous of the following day when we could look back on the experience. That next morning I had a real bad choice to make, either to go forward or go back the way we had come. Fortunately, there was a road crew that briefly stopped at our spot and I asked the lady what might lay ahead. She said it would be muddy in spots but that if we took our time we should get through. Ignoring what the fellow RVer had to say (he had come from that direction in his motorhome pulling a car), with a concerted pray together, we forged forward. It was an exhausting day of travel, sometimes going only 15 mph, the road seemingly never ending. It sprinkled most of the morning. We stopped in Chicken, AK, having crossed the border successfully a few miles up the road, to be relieved by the sight of our first long stretch of pavement. Our truck was 2/3 of the way up caked with Yukon mud. The running board was an inch deep in spots. We made it, WE SURVIVED THE TOP OF THE WORLD HIGHWAY! In Tok, Louise bought a bumper sticker with the same statement. This is a road I care not to experience again unless I was not pulling anything behind me.
That is all for now. I hope you enjoyed the read at least as much as I enjoyed recording the experience the three of us had, as I travel with Louise and Floyd. -Kevin
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
A Special Day Indeed! A Dream Come True!
I have much to share about what our travels have included in the past three weeks since my last log. We have been traveling Canada and our electronic communications have been spotty at best - and costly. But now we are in the good 'ol USA. I am writing this log from the North Pole, Alaska. Yep. Just a few miles outside of Fairbanks; sitting in my lazy boy chair, computer on lap, shades pulled down, dad sleeping on the fold down couch, and I am listening to the rain beat on the skylight in our little kitchen. You know that today, June 21st, is the longest daylight day of the year, but you would not know that Fairbanks daylight hours are especially long since we are so far north, 21 hours and 29 minutes. That is a far cry from the opposite end of the spectrum on December 21st when there is only 3 hours and 42 minutes of sunlight. I have never experienced such a thing as waking up at 1:30 AM and having my wife go outside to take a pictures of the horizon sunset, which seems to never end until the early morning sunrise. I have wanted to go to Fairbanks since I first travel north to Canada when I was 17. Forty years later, I got my wish. I envisioned a place on the edge of civilization, perhaps with a few conveniences, but a lot of wilderness nearby. To my surprise, we landed on a freeway and soon learned that there are nearly 97,000 people that live in the Fairbanks Borough (County).
Later this week I hope to record for you some of the highlights of our last three weeks -our drive through northern British Columbia and the Yukon Territory, crossing the Yukon River on the ferry, to our experience driving on the Top of the World Highway between Dawson City Yukon to Chicken AK and Tok.
Tomorrow we plan to visit Fairbanks, the Botanical Gardens and the University Natural History Museum, where a 34,000 year old Pre-ice-age Steppe Bison is preserved as if it were killed yesterday. Later in the week, we plan to ride a Sternwheeler up the River or take an equally interesting excursion into the inland.
One last item for this posting. At one of our scenic stops overlooking a vast river delta perhaps two miles in width, a couple pulls up on their bicycles. The couple is from Germany and they have cycled from Anchorage to Fairbanks and now heading to the Yukon and Northwest Territories until heading south, a two year cycling adventure which will land them eventually in Argentina. I thought I was and adventurist driving my truck and pulling my house behind it. What a world we live in. -Kevin
Later this week I hope to record for you some of the highlights of our last three weeks -our drive through northern British Columbia and the Yukon Territory, crossing the Yukon River on the ferry, to our experience driving on the Top of the World Highway between Dawson City Yukon to Chicken AK and Tok.
Tomorrow we plan to visit Fairbanks, the Botanical Gardens and the University Natural History Museum, where a 34,000 year old Pre-ice-age Steppe Bison is preserved as if it were killed yesterday. Later in the week, we plan to ride a Sternwheeler up the River or take an equally interesting excursion into the inland.
One last item for this posting. At one of our scenic stops overlooking a vast river delta perhaps two miles in width, a couple pulls up on their bicycles. The couple is from Germany and they have cycled from Anchorage to Fairbanks and now heading to the Yukon and Northwest Territories until heading south, a two year cycling adventure which will land them eventually in Argentina. I thought I was and adventurist driving my truck and pulling my house behind it. What a world we live in. -Kevin
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