Journalist By Nature: North to Alaska!

Taking opportunity by way of a friend's invitation to visit, I purchased a Jet Blue ticket to Anchorage for $89 and began to plan a summer solstice trip to the land of the midnight sun. Always primed for adventures in new places I acquired maps, travel books and did internet research to pack as much as possible into a week in Alaska. Not knowing what resources would actually be available to me, I investigated car rentals (screamingly expensive), gas prices (somewhat higher than Pacific Northwest prices) and local bush plane rides (fast but not free). Labeling a map of Alaska with red and yellow stickers from the Kenai Peninsula to Mt. McKinley a.k.a. Denali in the Denali National Park and Preserve I somehow believed that I could see it all if I slept in a car, camped along the way and drove fast in between touring spots. Alaska knows no such explorer.

Leaving Portland near sunset with a pink streaked sky coloring the evening hour, the Jet Blue plane soared to its 30 thousand foot cruising altitude, heading north by northwest. The sky never varied during the three and a half hour trip, maintaining a layer of orangey pink below the pale blue of twilight, the sun hovering at the horizon as if unsure of its destination above or below it.

Glaciers

As we flew over the glacier-coated Kenai Mountains, I stretched from my aisle seat towards the tiny windows hoping to catch a few snapshots of the rolling ribbons of ice that made their way by centimeters down the frozen channels between the peaks. The immensity of this single mountain range was my first experience of Alaska's vastness. My seat mate had shut his window cover in order to catch a few zees but my desire to see overcame social manners as I quietly, slowly reached across his slumbering form to gently raise the cover for a brief glimpse of the landscape below us. The light awakened him and I apologized, stating this was my first trip to the area. He remarked that he made this flight often and offered to trade seats with me so I could see what to him was an ordinary view. With my nose smashed against the heavy glass I marveled at the expanse of snow-capped peaks and uncountable tiny lakes that looked like so many shiny puddles reflecting the pink and gold midnight sun. Smoke from a set of local forest fires veiled the stationary orb in red and gold on the western horizon.

Kenai lakes

Anchorage at midnight

Settling into our landing pattern on the southwest side of Anchorage we watched as the gold-washed peaks began to be at our level and then to tower over the runway as we touched down. Entering the Ted Stevens International Airport we were greeted by a gigantic stuffed moose, so symbolic of and prevalent in this state. Stepping outside I was met with midnight dusk and warm, moist air. Without a timepiece I would have been hard pressed to know the hour. A midnight sun is a bit disorienting.

Welcome to ANC

My journey only halfway done, my host and I headed for Soldatna, a three hour drive that circles the Turnagain Arm off Cook Inlet, making its way along the feet of the mountain range to Portage. The highway, the only one, then turns south to run the gauntlet between more mountains, following the topography in a rather inefficient but fairly level route. Gawking all the while, I attempted to photograph my views but the low light and traveling speed worked against me so I just relaxed and enjoyed the long drive. Punctuating our otherwise quiet drive were the occasional sightings of moose calmly munching along the roadside. A few times I talked my host into stopping for a photo, far enough away to jump back in the car in the event of a charge by a cow defending her calf, but close enough to hear the chomp of a grass-munching moose. Alas, again the low light and need for a quick retreat kept me from acquiring the desired souvenir shot. Considering the signs that keep count of moose road kill, I would have many more daylight opportunities for a live encounter.

Turnagain Arm scenery

The 3 a.m. local time arrival found us exhausted so after a quick snack of fresh cinnamon roll bread, a glug of water, and a brief welcome tussle with the Saint Bernard Kimber, we stumbled off to bed, too tired to care about the ambient light of what was becoming dawn. Over breakfast a few hours later we planned a tentative schedule of activities and I became aware of the many hours of driving that would be required to see it all. Inches on a map of Alaska translate into hundreds of miles on the ground there. When you go, take plenty of money and time.

The only safe moose!

Sightseeing is always a good place to start and my host did a great job of acquainting me with her town. At the Kenai National Wildlife Refuge we learned that fireweed, the first wildflower to grow after a forest fire, is indeed edible. It can be peeled and steamed like asparagus and some people even make a pink-colored jelly out of it. Funny River was the sight of last year's forest fire and the beach at the mouth of the Kenai River was like any other sandy shore. The Moose Is Loose bakery was a score with its custard-filled maple and chocolate iced donuts. A friend of my host, Manny, offered to take us halibut fishing so we stopped by to try on flotation jackets and check the tide tables and weather forecast. We got a lecture on fertilizing raspberry plants with whole fish buried at the roots, fireweed jelly-making and other assorted local topics. Over a teriyaki muskox and rice dinner I learned that there are wild herds of the animals on Nelson Island, about 400 miles due west of Anchorage. Closing out the first full day in Alaska I watched the neighborhood kids ride their bikes in broad daylight at 10:30 at night.

Our boat

Clothing ourselves in water-repellent gear we arrived early at Manny's for a final check and took off down the coast for Ninilchik to fish for halibut. Driving down the grade to the launch point, we saw a number of boats lined up at the sloping gravel's edge but no dock in sight. How were we going to get into the water? The roar of a hulking tractor caught my attention as it moved with amazing speed to hook up a boat trailer, haul it to the water's edge, back it into the water until its boat could float away with engines pumping hard, pull the trailer out of the water, park it at a side location and turn to face the next launch request. This all would happen in about 60 seconds, and with amazing efficiency as well as a $70 launching/retrieving fee. Manny's little 4-passenger, 18 footer was overshadowed by the much larger charter boats filled with high-paying passengers and expensive fishing gear. Nonetheless, we got our launch number (useful during the retrieving process when your trailer would be hauled to the water to meet you), climbed aboard, suited up in flotation jackets and awaited our turn. Almost before we knew it, we were heading out into Cook Inlet to a familiar fishing spot that promised fish galore of a tasty rather than trophy size.

Personal first!

Dropping anchor in about 32 feet of water we watched the larger boats head out to the 10 mile spots where the photo op fish swim. This was Manny's favorite and lucky spot about a mile off shore. Setting the trolling engine to keep us facing the wind and incoming tide, he pulled bait from the cooler, chopped it in two inch pieces, set our hooks and tossed our lines overboard. This being my first ever fishing experience I was eager to learn all the nuances of bobbing the line, being patient and reeling in once I had a bite on. Chatting us up with fishing stories, Manny kept us entertained for hours while we waited for a tug on our lines. He was the first to hook a halibut and pulled it in like a pro. It was a small one but a fish nonetheless. His second fish was deemed too small to keep so it was tossed into the salty brine to live another day. I finally felt a pull on my line and Manny called out instructions to this novice as I reeled as fast as I could, feeling a little fight on the line and wondering just how much fish was there. As its white skin broke the surface I was instructed to hold fast while Manny netted the fish. There is was - my first fish! Although not a trophy in the grand fishing manner it was mine and a trophy at that.

Launching

After hours bobbing in the sea with no further bites we decided to take our meager catch and make for shore. The wind was picking up and Manny was getting concerned about maneuvering his small boat safely. Hauling in the anchor, stowing the gear, icing the fish and generally cleaning up, we headed for the launch/retrieval site. As we neared the shore I held up our boat number and the watchful binoculared crew picked up our trailer and met us at the waterline where we gunned the boat motor to shove us onto the trailer. One crew member completed our hookup locks and signaled the tractor operator to heave ho. We were quickly pulled from the water and up the launching slope to a parking lot. Manny jumped down the provided ladder as a Fisheries registrar approached asking details about our catch. Once satisfied, she gave us the go sign and we attached the truck to the trailer and pulled out of the way. Manny was gracious enough to clean and fillet the fish, giving all of it to us while apologizing for the small catch. We bagged and froze it for the trip home. Small freezer packs joined the halibut in an insulated bag which ended up keeping the fish rock hard in my suitcase until it was safely in my freezer.

Photo credit: Michael F. Hughes

Not wanting to squander a minute we headed out for the hiking trails around Soldatna. Several were closed due to forest fires in the area but the Fuller Lakes trail was open so we set out to see what we could see. An overcast sky kept the humidity high and the incline of the trail was steep enough to add body heat to the mix. Then the Alaskan mosquitoes found us, mobbing our exposed skin like starved contestants in a hot dog eating contest. In addition to arm flapping we occasionally called out "bear!" or blew a whistle or just shouted sounds to warn any nearby animals that we were in their territory. With the shoulder high underbrush closing in on this obviously little-used trail, I began to feel an eery sense of foreboding. Even with my pistol toting companion, I wondered just what I would do if I did indeed encounter a large wooly creature surprised by my appearance. It was the relatively fresh bear scat on the trail that finally gave me pause to rethink this hike. Winded and generally irritated by sticky sweat and bug bites I suggested that we turn around and head for the car rather than match wits with a bear.

Russian Orthodox cemetery

The following day I was given driving rights to the host's car and decided to explore the rest of the west coast of the Kenai Peninsula. As my host rode off on her unicycle I headed south on the one and only highway out of town. Scattered rain showers shadowed me as I watched for moose. The road kill count on this highway was already 44 for the year and it was only June. Passing through Clam Gulch, Ninilchik and Happy Valley I looked for the Holy Assumption of the Virgin Mary Russian Orthodox Church. It took a couple of turn arounds but I finally located the road leading to this famous landmark of historic significance. Gilded onion domes topped the gleaming white structure situated on a hill overlooking Cook Inlet. A profusion of wildflowers nearly hid the double white orthodox crosses of the cemetery fronting the church. Names of a distinctly Russian origin were carved into headstones and years of symbolic accoutrements lay scattered around many of the graves. What stories these lives could tell.

Driving on to my ultimate destination I arrived at Homer and Land's End where the highway stops at the end of a four mile natural spit. Somehow naively expecting light traffic I was chagrined to see bumper to bumper campers, boats on trailers and other assorted vehicles parked in every conceivable spot so that my best efforts to park were prevented at every point. Slowly driving to the turnaround, I cruised back towards Homer until I spied a slot in front of a restaurant where a limited time was allotted for diners. Hopping into Captain Pattie's I hurriedly ordered a bowl of chowder and sat gazing out the picture windows towards the snow-tinged peaks and glaciers across Kachemak Bay. The voice of John Denver wafted soothingly in the background and I was mindful of the resemblance of the Rockies and the mountains here in Alaska. How fitting. In conversation with the waitress I discovered she and her husband had vacationed there, liked it and moved from Texas to discover an adventurous life in Homer. Having internet-based businesses allowed them to live anywhere!

Bowl empty and rain drizzling, I decided walking the boardwalk with zillions of other tourists was not to my liking. Being essentially a road girl I took off through Homer and headed up the inlet to see what I could see. Property between houses spread out and finally merged with the general landscape as I drove a twisting, turning, deteriorating two-laner higher and higher into the hills surrounding the inlet. Uncluttered views of it lay below and before me, wildflowers dotting the nearby green terrain and white glaciers icing the peaks in the distance. Passing through Fritz Creek and ending about twenty five miles up the inlet I relented and turned back, enjoying the magnificent Alaskan land and seascapes. Yellow lupine and purple hardy geraniums clustered along the roadway, adding color to an otherwise dull, cloudy day.

A chance meeting over dinner developed into a ride back to Anchorage which would save my host six long hours of driving. I had planned to drive over to Seward on the eastern side of the peninsula, but found the drive was three hours one way with little time to explore the glaciers and parks there before having to return to Soldatna. Once again, the vast land mass of Alaska revealed itself to this traveler. Time versus money is always the issue there: take the time and gas to drive or save the time, pay to fly and rent a car once you arrive. In the end I had to put my Seward area plans on hold for another trip but made a new friend in my driving companion. But that was not the end of things. She dropped me at an address a friend had given me where another connection lived but was not at home.

Mural

I watched as my ride drove away, wondering if I had made a big mistake in trusting a random connection to temporarily host me as well as get me to the airport on time for my departure. Eventually a car pulled into the driveway and I was delighted to be welcomed like an old friend. Over dinner we chatted non-stop sharing lives, understanding and encouragement. This lovely lady's husband was a native Alaskan Indian so she was well acquainted with the various cultures of this vast state. Still talking non-stop she transported me to the Alaska Native Medical Center where I received a whirlwind tour of four floors of extensive museum quality exhibits of tribal art, clothing, basketry, pottery and beadwork. Most "outsiders", as people from the lower 48 are called, are undoubtedly unfamiliar with the proud and rich extensive yet sad history of the indigenous people of Alaska. On my next trip I will plan to examine much more of their culture. For now, this was a suitable finish to my brief visit to the largest state in the Union and it left a desire to return and further explore the nearly inexhaustible resources there.