For our adventure, we consulted the guide 'The World-Famous Alaska Highway: a guide to the Alcan & other wilderness roads of the north'. The book was formatted to start your trip in BC and drive north to Alaska. To stay on the right path, we read the book backwards. Sometimes it was confusing; other times we read about points of interest after they had passed. One thing is certain, starting our trip in the northern Yukon placed us in a lonely wilderness that was all but devoid of human activity. It was easy to feel that hardly a soul had ever dwelt there. However, if visiting Whitehorse returned us to civilization, then visiting Watson Lake reminded us that a steady stream of adventurers had traveled into the great north prior to our arrival.
During WWII, the US and Canada launched a joint venture to construct a highway that connected the lower 48 to Alaska. This is known as the Alaska Canada Military Highway, or Alcan. In 1942, a homesick soldier from Illinois, who was conscripted to help build the Alcan, nailed a sign from his hometown on a pole in Watson Lake. Almost 70 years later, approximately 70,000 signs from around the world are posted in the Watson Lake Sign Garden. It servers as an impressive reminder that you are not the first, nor by any means the last, person to trek through this part of the world.
Between Willow and Palmer (near Wasilla) is a stretch of scenic drive called Hatcher Pass. While not on the usual group tours route it is mentioned in tour books. Last summer we took my folks out this way and were treated to some beautiful scenery and a refreshing hike.
Our drive through the Yukon Territory started precariously. The freezing and thawing of the tundra cause the roadway to undulate like a rickety roller coaster. This turbulent stretch of potholed pavement is known as the frost heaves. We almost didn't make it into Canada because of the fiercely entrenched battle my brother had with the Canadian border agent. The conversation went like this-
Agent: What's the nature of your visit?
Josh: We're here to mind our own business. Why? What's the nature of your job?
Agent: Do you have any alcohol and tobacco in your vehicle?
Josh: We might have some of it left, but we had a really hearty breakfast. You looking for a fix?
Agent: Do you have any firearms in your possession?
Josh: Just these two babies (kissing his biceps)
Agent: Are you planning on leaving anything behind in Canada?
Josh: Yep! A ton of garbage!
I don't know if that's exactly how the conversation went, but that's how I remember it. Fortunately, the border guard was kind enough to let us through. Although the car shook from the seismic road shocks, the scenery was as spectacular as the Tok Cutoff. Further south on the Alcan highway, the frostline moves deeper underground. At this latitude, trees can extend their roots and grow taller than their northern counterparts. During this section of the trip, we also spotted an elk herd, a porcupine, a fox, arctic swan, and two black bears.
Known as tribal herds, the elk in this region are numerous. They officially belong to the indigenous peoples:
The highlight of the drive was the bears. We hoped to see some, although several natives we spoke to said they had never see a bear.
By the time we reached Whitehorse, it was nearly midnight. Although some daylight lingered, it was too late to setup camp, sleep soundly, and wake up refreshed for another day's drive. The section of Whitehorse along the Alcan highway looks like every other wayside rest stop we had seen for miles. Our chances of finding a clean motel seemed bleak. However, the travel guide listed multiple hotels, including a West Mark and a Best Western. We decided to explore "downtown". We turned off of the highway and ventured about two miles. Darkness had fallen as we came around a final curve. Nestled in the valley was a city of lights- Whitehorse- an oasis on the edge of a vast virgin land. This was a welcome sight to weary travels. We quickly found a place to rest a bit and wake up as all civilized men should, to Tim Horton's double double and a strawberry vanilla donut.
The 270 mile stretch of road from Wasilla to Tok exceeded the beauty of every thing we have seen. Majestic peaks rise above the banks of spruce-lined river. Every turn in the Alaska highway 1 (Tok Cutoff) is a unique and stunning vista. If it wasn't for the swarms of flies and mosquitos, we would have spent the entire day with our mouths agape.
A glacier creeps out of a valley:
A moose sighting! We had just stopped at a roadside shack for coffee:
I drove the entire route from Palmer to Tok, about 300 miles. As we neared Tok, I was ready for lunch and to transfer driving duties. Perhaps I hastened our arrival too much. Add Alaska to the list of states where I've made new friends :-(
Well Dunn, the second days travel ended with a beautiful 'almost sunset' in the mountains. We are in Palmer, which is a small town just north of Anchorage, at a bed and breakfast. We have a three man cottage with bunk beds and a queen size bed. The ol' man won the coin toss and landed in the queenie! (actually they let me have the big bed gladly - so that I would stop crying)! We are headed to Whitehorse Yukon Canada today - nestled in the Canadian Rockies, a 13.5 hour drive! This will be the longest days drive because there is nothing in between the border and Whitehorse. There should be - eventually - some awesome pictures posted. Breakfast is served - Josh cooked some scrambled eggs and sausage with a 'hi-ho' muffin. Gotta go Whatever you do today - "may it be 'well dunn"
Previously, on the blog... I HAVEN'T SEEN A MOOSE!!!
Today that changed.
Dad arrived in Fairbanks last night. This morning, the three of us drove the old Haul road north of the Arctic Circle. Before we left the borough, we spotted our first moose strolling along the road. Our approach rushed the moose from the road, and we were slow with our camera shutters. Although it was an official moose sighting, I was not satisfied with the quality, as you can see from this photo. There are better shots of Sasquatch.
After trekking 255 miles north, we arrived in Coldfoot, which is little more than a rest-stop. If you watch Ice Road Truckers on Discovery, this is a familiar area. The old haul road, or Dalton Highway, is the same route used for transporting supplies to the oil rigs in Prudhoe Bay and Deadhorse.
Our destination in Coldfoot was well short of road's terminus at the Arctic Ocean. After enjoying a campsite-cooked lunch and scenic views of the Brooks Mountain range, we turned back south and headed for Fairbanks. Within ten miles, we saw a moose... and then half a mile further, we saw another moose! Now I consider my trip successful. (Although I have seen moose wandering through rural Quebec and Maine before, seeing an Alaskan moose was important to me.) Now if we can spot a bear for dad, our entire trip will be complete. I'm thinking about leaving a bucket of chicken wings outside his tent at night. That should do the trick.
Here is our second moose from the trip:
A brief overview of Coldfoot:
Some of the turns on the Dalton Highway are extremely treacherous. Even the veteran truckers agree:
A final note. We are thrilled that dad has joined us on the trip:
One of Alaska's primary attractions is diverse wildlife. Puffins, polar bears, seals, whales, walrus, moose, muskox, and caribou... just to name a few.
While visiting the Museum of the North on the University of Alaska Fairbanks campus, my brother and I saw a vast collection of taxidermic trophies that would make Teddy Roosevelt blush. Here are some of the other wildlife that we have seen with our own eyes.
Sand Hill Cranes combing the tundra for grubs:
Muskoxen at the Large Animal Research Station (LARS):
An homage to the state bird:
And much to my disappointment, this is the only moose I've seen. Is that a chip on my shoulder? No, it's a moosed opportunity:
Forest fires are not an uncommon occurrence in this desert biome. Several years ago, the spruce, aspen, and other flora was ravaged by the insatiable flames of a wildfire. The result is a lunar landscape which stands in stark contrast to surrounding foliage.
The granite tors trail is a 15 mile loop which ascends 2,300 feet to granite outcroppings formed by volcanic activity. Thousands of years has eroded away the surrounding soil. Yet, the rocky fixtures remain as sentinels vigilantly guarding the interior. The views are spectacular. The hike to the top is not extremely difficult, but it was a good way to prepare for the more arduous climbs we will face in the next few days.
In my first foray into firing weapons, there was only one injury which required treatment at an urgent care facility. The accident was not caused by a discharged firearm, rather it was the unfortunate side affect of the vernal thaw. Josh, in a moment of climbing hubris, slipped on on patch of ice, reached to the slippery pipeline for support, fell on his butt, and wrenched his wrist. Fortunately, after consulting with a nurse practitioner and a radiologist, it was determined that no bones were broken. However, prior to the diagnosis, Josh powered through like Nietsche's superman and spent the afternoon shooting at helpless wilderness creatures and abandoned pipelines. His enthusiasm for marksmanship was key in igniting my interest in frontier rifles.
Initially, I hesitated to shoot a gun, but amidst the arctic wilderness firing rifles and AK-47s felt as right as eating seal blubber for breakfast. I started small- shooting into the air and at inanimate objects. Then, I graduated to... well, I never really graduated. I'm still shooting at empty beer bottles and rusty sheet metal.
Check out the videos and pictures. I'm especially fond of the one where I look like Himmler's understudy... For those who don't know me, I'm not anit-Semitic, just a fan of the obscure reference... Schiess du gut?
Every year the interior of Alaska burns a little more. People from outside the area might not know it, but a smokey sky and a fiery horizon is an annual occurrence around the Fairbanks area. We had some particularly bad fires in August of '09. I'll post a video of I took while driving down Airport road around 5PM.
We had our first big fire in the area on Friday. It was about a mile away from my buddy Daniel's House. The News Miner had this to say about the fire:
Hot, dry and windy weather stoked Alaska's first large wildfire of the season from a quarter-acre blaze north of Fairbanks on Friday afternoon to more than 700 acres of burning hillside by Saturday, fire officials said. The Moose Mountain Fire ignited near the well-populated Goldstream area, but it was burning away from residential areas on Saturday, according to the Division of Forestry.
I got a text from Daniel with a picture of the column of smoke and we had the following exchange: I was driving the Limousine at the time and I was all the way across town at the corner of Farmer's Loop and the Steese Highway. You could tell there was at least a tree or two on fire based on the plume of smoke:
I drove over there as soon as I was done driving my clients home from the Airport, but by the time I made it to the Goldstream valley the tide had turned on this fire. The wind was strong and out of the west for most of the day. I'd estimate it was gusting up to 15-20 miles per hour for most of the afternoon, but by around 7 or 8 PM the wind died down all together. It slowed the fire quite a bit and allowed the planes to dump it into submission. We didn't have to evacuate, but we did have a couple of Jack and Cokes and watched the firefighters do their jobs.
Here's a video of one of the Firebombers doing a flyby. (Mist, if you are reading this can you please tell me what I'm looking at and correct my airplane ignorance. I've probably gotten something wrong!) I'll also post some pictures I took in august of '09 when I saw these planes at the airport.
May 21st- Isn't the world supposed to end today? I fully expect the apocalypse to rain down terror on this sunny saturday, and to ensure that I see it, I am rapidly traveling westward and thereby acquiring five extra hours in the day. So, if the end of the world comes sometime during my 29 hours spent living in May 21, I will be prepared. My theme for the day is "the easy way out". Even though today includes visits to four different airports and the threat of a global cataclysm, it will not compare to the adventure that my brother, father and I will have traversing more than 3,600 miles from Fairbanks, Alaska to Indiana, and for my brother, West Virginia. I have taken the easy way out of town and am motoring the long road back.
Alaska has some interesting places. Some of them are on the map, and others are not. One of the little known engineering efforts of central Alaska is the Davidson Ditch. Along one of the pipeline sections of the Davidson Ditch is a broken down bus called the Crazy Horse. It later became known as the "Haunted Stripper Bus".
I'll let my buddy Daniel tell the story in his own words:
Last night I camped out at mile 54 of the Steese where we typically go shooting. I drove back all the way to the abandoned Crazy Horse bus and parked my car in the typical sleeping position (on a steep incline to level the seats). I applied the parking brake and got out to have a cigarette, some gin, and to look around. Everything seemed to be in order. I was not blocking in any moose hunters, and the bus, for all intents and purposes, was still abandoned. I was all alone in the woods.
I climbed into the passenger seat and went to sleep. I was awoken about an hour later by the sound of a voice off in the distance. I wiped the windows clean of condensation and peered out. As soon as I leaned forward the voice stopped. My mind must be playing tricks on me, I thought. There was no sign of anyone outside, but a thick fog had settled in the valley and was growing denser by the minute. I laid back into passenger seat. Almost immediately the voice started again:faint but distinctly that of a woman. "Fine", I told myself aloud, "I'll go take a look".
I grabbed my shotgun and flashlight and climbed out of the jeep. The parking brake on the jeep creaked eerily as I got out, adding to the anxiety. I looked all around the car the best I could but the fog was too thick now to see more than a few feet in front of me. I saw and heard nothing. Just then the brakes on the jeep released and the car started to roll. I dropped the gun and the flashlight and ran back to the car swearing loudly and hoping that it would not roll back into the bog on the other side. The jeep stopped as soon as I touched the door and I quickly got in and put it in gear. I sighed in relief. In the next moment of silence, I hear the voice again louder this time. It was coming from the direction of bus which was now illuminated through the fog by the flashlight.
I got out and decided it was time to stop screwing around and get this over with. I walked over and picked up the light and shotgun, racking a round as I approached the bus. The closer I got to the bus the louder the voice became but I still couldn't make out what it was saying. I went in through the front door and the voice was at its loudest, but the bus was dark and still littered with junk. No one was here but the voice seemed to be coming from every direction as I turned in the bus. Just then, a tree outside the bus banged into the side shaking everything. I ran for the back door and was confronted by a big bull moose. He just stared at me for a moment through the back door, snorting thick jets of breath visible in the cool night air. I gestured at him and spoke softly that I was not going to shoot him. Then he turned and ran off away from the jeep and bus and through the woods disappearing in the fog.
When he left I noticed the voice again and decided it was time to move to another place for the night. I went back to the jeep; my legs making a small wake in the fog. The voice faded as soon as I left the bus. I climbed in the jeep and the voice piped back up. Just then I looked down and noticed a dim light coming from the front pocket of my sweatshirt. My iPod was on and playing podcasts. I must have turned it on when I was sleeping and the sound was just faint enough to only be heard when reflecting off of a car or the bus. I called myself an idiot and patted the God of the jeep (a Buddha statue) on the head, pulled forward up the incline again left the jeep in gear and went back to sleep. I didn't hear anymore voices for the rest of the night but the following morning the moose was back eating the trees by the bus.
Alaska. I know you've heard of it: the largest state in the Union, the coldest place on the continent, the final frontier, the land of the midnight sun. We have whales, moose, bears, caribou and miles and miles of wilderness. We have the tallest mountain on the continent, one of the longest pipelines in the world and some of the craziest people ever.
Alaska is where anarchists go to hide from the government. It's where hippies go to commune with nature. It's where amateur alcoholics go to turn pro. We have the highest suicide rate in the country, some of the most committed drunk drivers around, and death at sea, on the ice and in the forest. I love this place. And yet... It's time for me to go.
This blog will chronicle my journey from Fairbanks, in the golden heart of Alaska, to the Appalachians, where it's time to move into the next chapter of my life. In just a few short days, my brother and father will be flying into town, and we'll begin our 4000 mile homeless journey across the continent. Along the way, I hope to bring you stories from the road, memories of Alaska, and a tale of adventure. Stay tuned.
