(Note: This is part of my Big Trip 1996 retrospective travelogue. See
this
page for an introduction to it and links to all other posts)

Saturday, August 31, 1996 – We’ve covered about 700 miles in two days as we’ve left Alaska behind.
Currently, we are heading toward Watson Lake, along the Alaska Highway in
Canada’s Yukon Territory. The big claim to fame Watson Lake has is the
Sign Post
Forest, hundreds of signs pointing in different directions and showing the
mileage to various places.

A GI building the road started it in 1942, and it has kept going ever since.
It will be the highlight of our day, which has been filled with nothing but
highway and non-descript trees. We did pass through Whitehorse but didn’t see
its claim to fame: a DC-3 mounted on a pole to make the world’s largest weather
vane. Seems a waste of a perfectly good aircraft.

Meanwhile, we suffered our first windshield crack yesterday. We knew it was
going to happen, but it’s still depressing. A rock flew up and hit the upper
right-hand side of the windshield, making a nearly circular crack about the size
of a silver dollar. Actually, it’s not as bad as many windshields have been hit,
and hopefully — knock on glass — it will be our last. Of course, the car’s being
sold anyway when we get back. To whom we don’t know, of course — but we’ll have
three days to dispose of it!

I left off last with us about to explore Anchorage. Here’s to it:

Interact with this map
here.

Day 17 [Wednesday, August 21, 1996] – We dragged ourselves out of bed late and finally made it out into downtown
Anchorage. There was surprisingly little there. We parked right downtown, spent
about 5 minutes in the visitors center and quickly decided against doing the
walking tour. It didn’t seem that interesting. Instead, we did a walking
tour of the nearby touristy T-shirt shops, as usual checking out the various
models of stuffed moose, Alaska hats and Ulu knifes. Then we settled in for
lunch at a nice deli, sitting under the hot Alaskan sun and enjoyed the good
food.

Next, we headed out to see Anchorage’s Earthquake Park. This is where a large
area of land dropped down many feet in the massive (9.2, or something like that)
quake of 1964. Of course, we got lost along the way — but it was a good thing. We
stumbled upon the Hostess Thrift Shop, which Let’s Go had mentioned. This is
where all the day-old bread and other bakery goods are returned from various
stores. Heaven! I found the miniature powdered donuts I’d been craving but
refusing to buy in order to stick to our budget. $1 per box! We picked up some
bread, cupcakes, Twinkies (Lorna had never heard of them in Britain and now
loves America’s favorite snack food) and bread for under $10.

Still seeking Earthquake Park, we drove further and came across REI.
Naturally, we stopped in to see if there was possibly any camping equipment we
did not yet own. We found it, too — mosquito nets to go over our heads. Denali
was rumored to have terrible mosquitoes, so despite the pith helmet look, we
went for the protection.

Only minutes after getting back into the car, we came across a
Carr’s — Alaska’s number one attraction, in our opinion. Carr’s is the Alaska
version of Vons, and we decided it was time to stock up. We were thrilled to
discover great mark downs on sandwich meat about to reach its sell by date. A
budget-saver! We stocked up (and have not had any ill-effects, to date). Potato
chips, lots of soup and more needed foods were obtained.

We finally reached Earthquake Park, but it was mostly a disappointment. There
are lots of trees, and the ground is all jumbled, but you don’t get a real sense
of an earthquake causing it, much less how. A bit further down, we got to a
point were Beluga whales are sometimes spotted. None were seen by our eyes,
however.

Back we went to the motel, where we settled in more television and a
do-nothing evening. Even though we’re not working, all the traveling is
actually pretty tiring and it was nice to have a "day off" of sorts.

Day 18 [Thursday, August 22, 1996] – Out of Anchorage and off to
Seward, where icy fjords and more wildlife
awaited us. We got the car’s oil changed, then did nothing but
drive for about 5 hours and watched rain clouds ominously fill the sky. The trip
to Seward was stunning. We went along an ocean inlet most of the way, with
towering mountain faces on the other side. There were some fantastic tidal mud
flats–deadly if you go on them, due to their quicksand nature. People have died
getting trapped in them.

Arriving in Seward, we quickly knew we didn’t want to stay long. It was high
fishing season and not particularly our scene. The campground was
right at the edge of the harbor and was seemingly filled with pickup trucks,
boat trailers and stubbled-men in green rain ponchos and jeans.

After setting up the tent and staking it against the strong, cold wind, we
took a quick driving tour of downtown Seward. Most of the city was leveled
during the 1964 earthquake by several tidal waves. Rebuilt, Let’s Go praised it
for not having the mini-malls and Golden Arches that other cities on the Kenai
Peninsula had. We didn’t think it made that much of a difference. It looked
pretty much like a rundown little town.

A flag-fan, Seward did have one attraction that I liked. It was home of the
person who designed the very-attractive Alaska state flag, Benny Benson, I
believe. The flag is the Big Dipper and North Star on a field of blue, with the
Dipper or Bear representing Alaska’s bears, the North Star representing Alaska
as the northernmost state in the union, and the blue for one of Alaska’s
flowers, which I naturally cannot recall now. Benny entered a state-wide contest
back in the 20s when Alaska was only a territory and its territorial governor
had noticed it was the only territory without a flag to fly over the post office
in Washington DC.

Our discovery of Seward completed, we went to bed with hopes that the rain,
if it came, wouldn’t be too bad.

Day 19 [Friday, August 23, 1996] – Up in the morning, we headed to the harbormaster’s office where pay showers
were available. I had a lovely hot shower for $2 while Lorna reported freezing
to death in the coldest shower of her life. It was only a $1, so perhaps there’s
some weird situation where men can pay more and get hot showers in Seward while
women are resigned to freezing.

Next, we boarded the tour boat to take us on our cruise around
Kenai Fjords National Park. We kept our expectations low and almost wondered if we really needed
to go on the trip, considering we’d done something similar in Glacier Bay. And
unlike Glacier Bay, the day was rainy and dark.

Of course, we’d already paid for the trip, so there wasn’t really much of a
debate. Soon, we were well pleased with the sailing. For one thing, it was a
much faster boat and a shorter overall trip, only 6 hours. But mainly, we saw a
lot more.

When we arrived at the main glacier, it was glistening white and soon began
calving. I got a some good shots of the first icefall, but the most spectacular
one won’t come out. I had only 24 shots in the camera but thought I had 36, so I
kept advancing despite the pressure and probably just shot 12 frames all on one.
Nonetheless, it was something to watch, even better than what we saw in Glacier
Bay. Once again, as the ice hit the water, a huge surge came to lift the boat
up.

Humpback In Kenai Fjords

Humpback In Kenai Fjords

On the way back, we had the good fortune to spot a humpback whale leaping out
the water very near the boat. Lorna said it took her breath away, and I was
quite in awe to see the massive creature. It was beholding to watch, and I can
see now why so many people go out on trips every year when whales migrate past
California.

Along with the whales, we also saw sea otters, dolphins, puffins and sea
lions. We’re jaded about the sea lions, of course, since they are so common in
California.

Back on shore, we headed back toward Anchorage rather than spoil our great
day with dismal camping in Seward. We stopped at Portage Glacier, Anchorage’s
answer to Juneau’s Mendenhall Glacier–close to a city, easy to visit. By the
time we arrived, it was about 8 p.m., dark and raining off and on. With four
glaciers coming into the valley, it was also very cold. Still, we braved it and
put the tent up. We also took a quick trip to the visitors center, where huge
bolder-sized icebergs from the distant glacier had washed ashore near the
visitors center.

Returning to the campground, we dived into the tent and went to sleep.

Day 20 [Saturday, August 24, 1996] – In the morning, neither of us wanted to emerge from the cocoon of warmth. But
Denali awaited, so emerge we did.

We headed back to the visitors center, which had now opened, but we decided
against going in. It was still overcast, and the main attraction is the view
across the lake from the center to the glacier. I did dash in for a quick
look-around and got to see a few small ice worms crawling across a small piece of
ice taken from the glacier.

Driving through Anchorage, we decided to find a place to shower, as well as
get some more fuel and food. We found a Carr’s soon enough, so it was easy to
stock up on nearly out-of-date meat. But what about the bakery? Could we find it
again, after having just stumbled upon it before. We knew we were in the right
area, and Lorna joked that we could just look for a Hostess van and follow it
in. About 10 seconds later, one actually passed us and we did just that. Within
five minutes, I was stocking up on powdered donuts and bread.

On the edge of the city, we found a campground with showers. These were the
worst showers we’d ever used, and I was glad to have the pair of sandals I use
for the public showers as I trod across the muddy floor to the stalls. Still, it
was nice to be clean once again.

About an hour outside of Anchorage, we stopped at the headquarters of the
Iditarod dog race. The race follows a former trading and supply route that dog sledders used, with its most famous use coming when several times they rushed
urgently needed vaccine from Seward to Nome to relieve an epidemic of diphtheria
there.

There was a short video to watch, and I came away with a better appreciation
of dog sledding, especially the attention that sledders have to give the dogs,
down to putting little booties on their feet if the ice becomes too hard.

Back on the road, we had about another two hours before we reached the park.
Just before the entrance, Lorna brought the car to a quick halt. She had spotted
our first moose of the trip, as had several others pulled off beside the road.
It turned out to be someone’s pet, since it had a collar, so I didn’t think it
counted. Lorna disagreed and claimed it to be a perfect moose, the one she’d
come to Alaska to see.

Once in the park, we checked in and got our campsite assignment. For once,
Denali was not overcrowded, or so we were told. I’d hate to see what it looks
like when busy.

At the campsite, we put up the tent and had a hot meal, protected from insect
by our new mosquito helmets. We also had an interesting ballet of spoons as we
leaned over our bowls and brought the rice and soup up under the nets and out of
reached of hovering mosquitoes. Of course, if we did eat a mosquito, we probably
wouldn’t have known. A book I was reading when we ate at Tok talked about how
those working on the road watched as cooks made big batches of pancake batter
with pepper along the sides of the vat. It turned out the "pepper" was actually
mosquitoes. Yum!

After dinner, we retired to the tent. It was very cold, making us for the
first time unzip the sleeping bags from each other so that we each had our own.
This kept the warm air inside the bag much more than when they are zipped
together. It may not be as romantic, but with the temperature plunging, we
wanted to be warm!

• Previous In This Series: Wrangell-St. Elias National Park
• Next In The Series: STILL TO COME!

(Note: This is part of my Big Trip 1996 retrospective travelogue. See
this
page for an introduction to it and links to all other posts)

Sunday, August 24, 1996 – When I left off, it was Day 14
[Sunday, August 18, 1996], and we had left the cross-roads town of Tok. About
five hours later, we pulled into Chitina (pronounced Chitna, for some reason).

A flyer for the town says "It’s not Chitna, but you can see real Alaskans in
their native environment." What it looked like was a Bosnian refugee camp. There
are about 10 buildings, and once you get off the main street, it’s trailers and
lots of junk. Old cars, fallen down buildings, sinks and all sorts.

Needless to say, we didn’t dwell long in Chitina. We got some water, then
stopped at the ranger station to get information about
Wrangell St. Elias National Park, which
Chitina sits on the edge of. The ranger looked like Robin Williams and seemed
very lonely. We could hardly find a way to excuse ourselves from the station
after having gotten what we needed.

He was very helpful in explaining the fishwheels used near Chitina on the
river. These look like the type of wheels on the back of a steamboat. There are
four "paddles," two of which are actually scoops. Water pushes on the two
non-scoop paddles, making the whole thing turn. Fish are caught in the scoops,
then spill into the killbox, or something like that. He said up to 500 fish a
day can be caught by them, and they apparently made a big difference to the
natives, since the glacial silt in the Chitina and Copper rivers makes it
difficult to fish.

We saw the fishwheels in operation as we headed a mile out of Chitina to the
campground across the Chitina River Bridge. The tent went up, and we had an
early night.

Interact with this map
here.

Day 15 [Monday, August 19, 2006] – It was up early and scurry as we
packed quickly to make our 8 am pickup at the Chitina Airport. We were heading
to McCarthy, a town at the end
of the McCarthy road. The road is gravel, 60 miles long and prone to what’s
called washboarding–where the surface is bumpy like the back of an old-style
washboard. We decided to spring for a shuttle van one way, then to fly back the
next way, in order to spare the Festiva.

The shuttle got us at the airport — airstrip is more appropriate — and we
were off on the road. It shortly grew apparent that the Festiva could have
easily handled what’s reputed to be the worst road in Alaska. We drove over
worse where they were repairing the Alaska Highway near Destruction Bay. Still,
we didn’t have to drive, and we did get someone knowledgeable about the area.

Approaching The Kuskulana Bridge

Kuskulana Bridge (from
Wrangell St. Elias National
Park web site)

The road is built across what used to be an old railroad pulling copper from
the Kennicott Mine, near McCarthy. Along the way, we went across a very narrow
old steel bridge built in 1911. We also stopped by an abandoned trestle, where I
got to be nature boy again by finding some wild raspberries to eat.

View From The Kuskulana Bridge

We also passed along numerous homesteads, all of which seemed to have their
own airstrips. People seem to have planes in the park in the way we have cars
elsewhere (there’s a lot of private property scattered in the parkland). For
some, it’s the only dependable way in and out.

It was a riot of cars and people at the road’s end. 4x4s were parked
everywhere in the lot, and people were wandering with all sorts of packs. There
was also a small line of people waiting to use the tram across the river.

People Riding The Tram

The Copper River cuts McCarthy off from the road that takes its name. Every
year, glacial water breaks loose and causes a flood at the end of July for one
or two days. These floods repeatedly washed away bridges linking the town to the
road. Now, there’s only a tram to let people cross to the other side and the
town, a 1/2 mile from the other shore.

The tram is a sight to see. It has two seats and hangs on a cable slung
across the river. A rope worked through pulleys let you pull yourself across the
river. You never have to pull, though. There’s always someone waiting, and the
etiquette is to pull for other people, because it’s really hard to pull the tram
while you are in it.

Pulling The Tram

Though anxious to use the tram, we chose to set up camp, first. We checked in
at the tram station, a small shack at the river’s edge, then went over to put up
the tent. We didn’t have our usual set up, meaning no air mattresses nor the car
in which to store the food. That means I had to sling the food up in a tree
because of concern over bears. Chances are, we would have been fine, and I came
no where near suspending our bag of food ten feet off the ground and hung
between two trees. Instead, it just sort of hung off a branch of a nearby tree,
no doubt not a hindrance to any determined bear.

Next we stopped at the pit toilets which we were informed desperately needed
to be pumped. What’s that mean? Well, normally when you look down in a pit
toilet, you see a big, dark chamber filled with waste. Instead, these toilets
basically had giant mountains of waste nearing the seats, threatening to emerge.
They also smelled horrible. I was in and out, and Lorna said she only wretched
three times while squatted over the seat.

Lorna & I On The Tram

Tram time! We lined up, and soon I was helping to pull people across the
river. Our turn to ride came, and we glided across smoothly. Great fun! On the
other shore, we ate lunch, then walked the half mile into town.

We’d just gotten past the museum on the outskirts when one of the shuttle
vans heading to Kennicott came by. McCarthy predated the Kennecott Mine and the
now-abandoned town of Kennicott, just four miles away. No spelling mistake, at
least of mine. A clerk for the mine company spelled the company name with an e
by mistake, and it stuck.

We jumped into the shuttle van and drove along the dusty track. Along the
way, we talked with Glacier Woman, as we dubbed her, a very nice young woman
who’d been living the summer in McCarthy, taking people out for walks on the
nearby Root Glacier. She said it was an easy 1/2 hour walk to the glacier, so we
went toward it after getting off the van.

Kennecott Mine Buildings

Along the way, we passed by the abandoned buildings of the

Kennecott mine (and
here). They were great to see, these slowly collapsing wood structures
perched on the edge of the mountain. It’s eerie to see buildings that have just
been left devoid of people. I saw a similar sight at Bodie, near Mono Lake,
where an entire town sits as if everyone just got up and left, all at once.

Walking Into Kennecott

Chimneys On Abandoned Building — About As Artsy As I Can
Shoot

Many pictures later, we passed through the last of the buildings and started
nearing the glacier. It’s amazing how cold it starts to become as you get
closer. It was a hot day, and we were both in shorts, but soon our sweaters and
jackets went on to guard against the cold wind coming off the glacier.

We didn’t have anything to guard against the very real threat of bears,
especially since the Canadians had confiscated our pepper spray earlier at the
border. Actually, the best defense is to make noise so the bears know you are
coming. They don’t want to mess with us any more than we want to mess with them.

Alaska has both black and brown — grizzly — bears. Ironically, black bears
which are considered mostly pests but not threats in California are much more
feared here. This is because they are more aggressive here, having to defend
their territory against brown bears.

So there we were, clapping and occasionally calling out, "Hello Bears!" as
we’ve been told to do, to warn them we were coming. At every step, Lorna became
more nervous. Things became worse after we repeatedly passed bear spoor on the
ground, still fresh and glistening with wetness.

Lorna was about ready to turn back and let me face death on my own, but then
more people began turning up on the trail, including Glacier Woman and an old
man that she was guiding. Assured that we wouldn’t die alone, we carried on.

At Last, The Glacier

Soon, we were at the glacier. It was wonderful to be actually on it. We
climbed up at a place where the glacier turned from black to white. For about a
half mile, you pass what looks to be mounds of dirt but which is actually the
dirt-covered ice of the glacier. The earth spills on to the ice as it twists its
way out of the mountains. But where we climbed up, there were still stretches of
white ice.

I braved onto the ice first, heading up to the top of first peak. Glacier
Woman had said it was OK to venture out onto the smooth surface for a bit
without crampons. Lorna joined me once she saw others had made it up the face
without disappearing into some unknown crevasse.

We didn’t stay too long because it was cold. We were basically standing on
top a giant ice cube. As we headed back, we passed Glacier Woman and the person
she was guiding, now both wearing crampons and heading toward places further out
on the glacier.

The walk back seemed faster than the walk out, as usual. We passed a girl
with bells on her shoes, meant to warn bears of her approach. They were so
annoying that I figure bears would seek her out just to silence her. We also
passed two guys armed with the biggest bottle of pepper spray I have ever seen.
It looked like a small fire extinguisher was hanging off the guy’s belt.
Meanwhile, the two teenage French girls who’d been on the shuttle with us
skipped their way along the trail, seemingly unconcerned about evil, wild
animals.

A shuttle ride later, we were back in McCarthy, this time looking for food.
We tarried long enough to book a flightseeing trip for the evening, then went to
get the good food we’d read about at the
McCarthy Lodge, one of McCarthy’s 8 or 10 buildings along its main street.
Unfortunately, the lodge wasn’t yet open for dinner, so it was across the street
to Tailor Made Pizza, where we had a surprisingly great meal of spaghetti, salad
and locally made bread.

As Close As You’ll Get To
Cicely

With time to kill before our flight, we went to the bar of the McCarthy Lodge
and had some drinks to stiffen our resolve. The bartender filled us in on local
facts, such as how the cellular-based telephone system had just arrived and how
locals get to drive the cars into town only during winter, when the river
freezes over. Once the freeze breaks, cars are stuck on one side or the other.
He also had participated in bungy jumping off the tall, narrow bridge we went
over in the shuttle van and attested to the rumor that those jumping naked were
allowed to jump for free. Two people had braved the cold air and the stares of
others as they plummeted downward in their birthdays suits when he jumped.

Flight time had arrived. We joined up with a British woman who Lorna, being
British, naturally chose not to speak to. She sized up her accent and declared
her to be a "Sloane," which is the American equivalent of being some upper-crust
woman from the east coast, such as a Preppie.

We climbed into a little Cessna, joining our pilot who’d apparently been
flying all day with out a chance to eat or drink much. We heard all this while
waiting in the lobby of the air tour place, as they joked about bringing him up
a powerbar to energize him on the last flight of the day. Nevertheless, our
confidence quickly rose as he appeared to be a friendly, competent sort.

Meanwhile, Lorna and the British woman had bonded. She was our age and turned
out not to be from Sloane Square, London, but rather from Brighton. It also
turned out she’d spent a year at UC Irvine and was
visiting friends from UCI with her boyfriend, a UCI graduate. Apparently,
McCarthy is where old Anteaters take their English degrees to make a living. No
doubt I’ll be there soon.

Glacier From The Plane

Small plane flying has become old hat to Lorna and I now, so there was no
nervousness as we lifted off. We’d heard that the flightseeing here was the best
in the Alaska, since you are so close to the glaciers that you can quickly get
out to them. Still, I was surprised at how incredible it was. In the mountains,
the glaciers are gleaming while, streaked occasionally where two come together.
The day was cloudy yet bright, so it look as if the huge glaciers we saw went
right up into the clouds.

Glaciers Out Of The Clouds

It was also quite an experience to be in a small plane flying toward a
mountain, rather around it. We headed straight toward a peak, then slowly turned
over the valleys created by the glaciers.

Glacier Rivers Merging

It all seemed to be over too quickly when we set back down on the gravel
runway. A shuttle brought us back the two miles into McCarthy, and I had a quick
chat with the British woman’s friends about UCI English professors we’d had
liked and hated. Then we made the walk back to the tram and, to Lorna’s dismay,
the pit toilets.

Lorna was desperate to go but also had no desire to renter the gas chamber
also called a toilet. While she debated, another woman entered and amazingly
lasted for nearly a half-hour in there while Lorna squirmed uncomfortably. I
used the time to call my mother from a pay phone, tying up one of McCarthy’s
four cellular lines to the outside world. Isn’t technology great?

Back at the tent site, it being 8 p.m. and us having absolutely nothing to
get up early for the next day, we regretted not having brought our books. This
far north, it’s perfectly light until about 10 p.m. Actually, I regretted having
said not to bring them and Lorna berated me for it Yes, but our packs were much
lighter, weren’t they!

• Previous In This Series: The Inland
  Passage & Glacier Bay
• Next In The Series:
  Anchorage – Seward -
  Kenai Fjords

(Note: This is part of my Big Trip 1996 retrospective travelogue. See this page for an introduction to it and links to all other posts)

Sunday, August 18, 1996 – As I write, we are heading away from the crossroads of Tok, Alaska and moving toward Chitina. It’s raining off and on, and our back window was covered in gunk within seconds after cleaning it at the gas station.

I left off with us being in Prince Rupert, Canada, where we were to catch a ferry through Alaska’s Inland passage. We did that the next day, Day 8 [August 12, 1996] of our trip.

Our ferry wasn’t until the afternoon, so we killed time exploring the town. We drove out to the sea plane port but were disappointed to find the planes took off just out of view. Then we drove up and down Prince Rupert’s main shopping street looking for a place to eat. It doesn’t take long to drive, only about two minutes. In fact, the night before, a souped-up car did that all night long. The driver must pass for Prince Rupert’s version of a rebel.

We stumbled upon a place call Cow Bay, down by Prince Rupert’s fish packing plant. At last, a safe port. There was a little cafe there that we ate at, then we went to a coffeehouse across the way for drinks and peanut butter cheesecake. It was nice to just sit in the coffeehouse and watch the people come in and talk. There were three young women who seemed to run the place, and they seemed to know everyone who came in.

It’s easy to get caught up with the things to see when traveling, but it’s often the experiences that you savor more and often don’t expect. I remember walking with Tom along the coast of a remote Irish town, just happy to be out walking to no where in particular. The coffeehouse was the same. It was just nice to sit and experience the energy of the place, the people coming and going, exchanging greetings and news and smiles.

Our trusty companion – the small, red Ford Festiva

Finally, it was ferry time. We lined up on the road in the appropriate lane and waited. It was about two hours before we moved, and in the meantime, everyone was getting out of their cars and talking to each other. I succumbed to the enthusiasm and got out to chat, but Lorna’s British reserve let her resist such idle friendliness. The guy in front of us demonstrated how his car could switch from kilometres to miles with a push of the button, but I got the last laugh when we compared gas mileage. Apparently, his big car doesn’t get 40 to 50 miles per gallon.

Tucked away for the trip.

Getting loaded on the ferry was pretty straight forward. We just drove on and parked as directed. I had to take all of our propane and our gas can and store it in the ship’s paint locker. Then we went upstairs and got the keys to our cabin.

The cabin was very small, two bunk beds and a small bathroom. Despite the small size, we were quite happy. We dumped our bags, then had a good explore of the ship. It had a huge observation area at the bow, with aircraft-style seats for sitting and watching wildlife. We settled in to hear a nature talk from the US Forest Service naturalist that rides on each of the state ferries.

Unfortunately, our naturalist had a degree in hospitality, not biology, and she was about the worst person I’ve ever seen in a ranger uniform. We nicknamed her “Clueless” for her inability to answer any question properly.

Tired, we crashed, slightly worried about what would happen if the ship were to sink while we were sleeping. I assured Lorna that we’d probably drown before the cold water froze us to death. That eased her mind, and we fell right to sleep.

Interact with this map here.

Day 9 [August 13, 1996] came, and we were up and into the observation lounge to watch wildlife. We waited and waited, but little came. Whales, otters, eagles and more were supposed to appear. Instead, we saw lots of water.

Around noon, we stopped at the town of Wrangell. The purpose of the state ferry system, the Alaska Marine Highway, is to link all these little coastal towns like Wrangell. Off the ship we went, and at last, we’d arrived in Alaska.

A street in Wrangell

It was a little anticlimactic. After all, Wrangell was a tiny little town on the coast, so it didn’t have the feel of wide open spaces that being in Alaska was supposed to bring. We took a walk along the main street, and that killed about 10 minutes. Then it was back to the ferry, which only stays in port for about an hour while people, cars and supplies get on and off.

Wrangell Narrows

The excitement level was high when we returned to the observation lounge. Clueless had returned, and she was describing the Wrangell Narrows, through which we were about to pass. At last, we’d see bears wandering on shore and all sorts of other wildlife, because the coast would be so close to the ship. The Narrows are also very shallow, requiring the ship to go through only on a rising tide.

We did see wildlife, at last, a bald eagle flying from shore to shore. We also got to watch a former Coast Guardsman feel uncomfortable as Clueless pulled him from the group and forced him to describe the different buoys that we were seeing.

At the end of the narrows was Petersburg. I can’t tell much about the town, because we didn’t have time to walk into it. Instead, practically the entire ship got off, walked about 15 minutes away from the port, then turned and walked back to get on before it left.

Back to the observation lounge, at least for Lorna. I’d had enough of watching for mythical wildlife, once they announced “The Arrival” would be playing in the theatre. Away I went to watch the science fiction film, which was quite good.

Orcas

As I planned, the wildlife appeared once the movie had ended. We saw numerous orca whales spouting and swimming off either side of the ship. Everyone was running around shooting photos and looking through binoculars.

After having dinner, we settled in to watch the evening’s film selection, “Sense and Sensibility.” Then we were docking in Juneau, and it was time to find our campsite for the evening.

It was very dark, because we got in at about 11pm. We drove to a nearby coastal campground, but it was all full. That meant we had to go to a campground near Mendenhall Glacier, a few miles from the ferry port. Along the way, we passed one of the University of Alaska’s campuses–which led to all sorts of fears for Lorna.

You see, Clueless, who lives in Juneau, had described how she’d seen a bear once when walking toward the university. This, combined with the darkness of the campground, convinced Lorna that bears were lurking everywhere, just waiting to pounce. For her, we were finally in the wilds of Alaska, and she wasn’t liking it one bit.

Despite her fears, she held in there and the tent went up. I had our small buck knife open to one side, in case a bear should attack. I imagine it would gain us about a second or two more of life. The pepper spray, which Lorna had clutched as a safety blanket while I had assembled the tent, had been left in the car and wasn’t available for the potential battle with nature.

Day 10 [August 14, 1996] arrived without a bear attack, and Lorna’s mood brightened with the morning’s light. We quickly pulled the tent down in the freezing cold that came off the nearby glacier. Then it was off to the airport.

Low cloud cover meant that our flight to Gustavus was delayed, so we left and got drinks and donuts at a nearby supermarket. About two hours later, we finally headed toward the plane, thanked for being the only people with any patience. Many people had only one day to get out to Glacier Bay and take a tour but we had three days there, so we were much more relaxed.

Our flight with Lorna’s friend Rocko in a small Cessna back in February proved to be good training for our flight. It was a little five-seat plane we jumped into. I sat up front, while Lorna sat next to a young woman from North Carolina.

Glacier from the plane

Up we went, and we had a marvelous view of everything around, including the rising mountains directly in front of us. It didn’t seem like we had much room to clear them, but we slowly rose and were treated to a great look down into valley carved by glacial ice.

After landing, Sandy from the Puffin Lodge came to collect us. As we drove, in a van where the speedometer never moved from 0, she filled us in on the big event in Gustavus — paved roads. They’d finally arrived, after the last ones fell apart just after WWII. We also got a quick tour of Gustavus. We saw the store and cafe, next to each other, and that was it!

Our cabin was small, but nice. After having much needed showers, we took bikes out from the lodge and headed to the cafe. Unfortunately, the cafe was closed. We bought some chips at the store and were told there was another restaurant further down the road.

Sandy had also mentioned this restaurant, and after we found no good pickings in the store to make picnic sandwiches, we decided to give it a go. It turned out to be directly across the road from the lodge. We parked our bikes, took off our shoes as requested, and went in.

Almost immediately, we wanted to leave. Everything LOOKED nice and homey, but it was quickly apparent this was more like being in someone’s extended kitchen rather than a proper cafe. Lynn brought us some menus and a chalkboard with more selections, but then she proceeded to erase about half the items on the board, which she was now out of.

We settled on lasagna, overpriced at $10 , even for Gustavus’s remote location. $2 more got me some sausage added to it. While we ate, Lynn’s three employees came in and all chatted about bears, mail and how one of them was apparently out of a job because of slow business. They all also enjoyed cheesecake, which we had passed on in order to make it out the door for under $30.

We did get one good tip about wild strawberries that grow along the sea shore, so thanking Lynn for our wonderful meal (which did fill us up), we took the bikes back out toward the beach. Along the way, we stopped at the store for ice cream bars and watched as roller-blading kids hung out along the porch. I later learned that the arrival of paved roads meant that the kids now for the first time could try out roller-blading and skateboarding. It was sweeping the area, Sandy said. Unfortunately, it was driving the proprietor crazy. I shared with her the tip of tossing out small gravel so that the roller-bladers couldn’t skate. I guess we’ve had more experience in discouraging roller-bladers down in California.

Armed with ice cream, it was off to the beach. At the small pier, we had to get off the road due to paving equipment. We followed a path until it ended, seeing lots of strawberry plants but no actual berries. It then led us through what turned out to be wetlands. There were absolutely no signs saying to stay out, as you would see in Southern California. Perhaps there is just so much wetlands area up here that it doesn’t matter! At any rate, feeling somewhat guilty, we finally made it out and back onto the road.

Exhausted from our tramp through muck, it was back to the store. At this point, we decided that the store was obviously the main highlight of Gustavus, so we sat on the porch with our drinks and watched the people come and go. The best was when a young woman pulled up, got out of her truck, then ran back to it as it rolled forward and hit the store’s porch. No one and nothing was damaged, and we all had a good laugh about this runaway truck. Then the woman, Megan it turned out, starting talking with a friend of hers who was parked there about meeting once she got off work. They talked for about 15 minutes, leaving us wondering the entire time about what job it was she was supposed to be doing.

Finally, we left the store to which we’d lent so much financial support and headed home and to sleep.

Day 11 [August 15, 1996] saw us get up at 5 for a breakfast that was nothing like described in our brochure. We’d expected a great selection of pancakes, fresh fruit, orange juice and other choices. Instead, it was pancakes and coffee. Then we headed to Bartlett Cove and Glacier Bay.

We filed onto the tour boat along with all the other tourists, and then it was off on our 7 hour long sail. Fortunately, this boat came with a naturalist that was anything but clueless. She had answers to everything.

We settled in next to an older couple. The woman spend most of the trip upset that someone else they’d met were at a lodge that served three meals a day. We didn’t try to console here with our story of dining at Lynn’s.

Binocular rentals were only $2 each, so Lorna and I both had a pair. They got put to good use, because bears and whales were spotted as we headed up the bay.

Arriving at the glaciers was somewhat disappointing. We’d both expected these mile long stretches of ice that would dwarf the ship. Instead, they seemed much smaller, probably due to the distance we stayed back. That’s for safety, though, so you can’t complain much.

Grand Pacific Glacier

The Grand Pacific Glacier is the one that carved out Glacier Bay and then retreated back 40 miles over the past 200 years. It looked more like a wall of dirt rather than ice, due to all the rock fragments and chunks the ice it picks up as it moves across the land.

Margerie Glacier: Before

Margerie Glacier: After

Next to it was the Margerie Glacier, which was much more spectacular looking. It was brilliant blue in some places, gleaming white in others. Margerie put on quite a show, too. Some ice began falling into the water, then a huge section right in the middle collapsed into the sea, sending up a huge wave that moved the boat. We were watching from the end of the boat and pointed directly at the glacier when it occurred. The naturalist said it was the best collapse she’d seen all summer. The size of the glaciers may have seemed disappointing, but we considered ourselves very fortunate to have seen that collapse.

This incredibly annoying looping GIF has waited 10 years to finally show how I could put six photos together to make a movie. Please appreciate its Web 1.0 pre-YouTube movie.

I also found it extremely interesting to see all the valleys left behind by the various retreating glaciers. It so easy to see how they carved out the gaps, leaving nothing but bare earth in the way. It’s harder to see this in a place like Yosemite, since there’s been so much growth since the glaciers have retreated. In Glacier Bay, advances and receding are measured in years, not hundreds or thousands of years.

We stopped at a few more glaciers, then it was back to port. We had dinner at the cafe that was closed the first time we went. It was everything Lynn’s wasn’t: good food, friendly and good prices.

Day 12 [August 16, 1996] saw us at a loss. We’d really done all we wanted at Gustavus, not that there was much left to do short of kayaking, which we’ve both decided from experience looks like more fun that it is. Our flight out wasn’t until 5:30, but then there was a cancellation and we had only a few minutes to gather up stuff and leave. We scrambled but made it, up and away on another small plane and back to Juneau.

We were in good spirits, because of what would have been a wasted day in Gustavus, we now had plenty of time to explore Juneau. First off, we found a small hotel to say in. I had to do some work on the NetGuide article and needed a phone and a place to work for a few hours. We found a lovely place down where the cruise ships dock, a former brothel turned into an inn. Budget be damned, I figured–this was for work!

Before going to the hotel, we stopped off at Mendenhall Glacier. It’s a huge one, just outside of Juneau and quite pretty to look out. There’s also a stream nearby that was just filled with huge salmon swimming upstream to spawn. It was incredible to see them all struggling to move up in the shallow water. They were so clearly exhausted, and there were several dead ones about. It smelled awful, but apparently everything we saw, and smelled, was quite normal.

The dock area is very touristy, but in a pleasant sort of way. There are all sort of little shops, and there’s a historic feel to it all. Lorna did the laundry while I worked on the article, then we had a good explore and got dinner. After that, I stayed up working through the night on the article until it was time to leave at 4 a.m. for our ferry.

Day 13 [August 17, 1996] started with the early morning drive to the ferry. I got some advice from a car waiting behind us on putting screen over our radiator. I was trying to cover the headlights and the radiator grill in preparation for driving along the Alaska Highway, but he said it’s mainly bugs getting into the radiator to be worried about. I guess he’s right, because the screen I covered the grill with is full of bugs.

On board, we went right to sleep. About four hours later, we were getting off at Haines and heading up to meet the junction with the Alaska Highway. We had to cross into Canada, and I was worried about not having proper proof of insurance. Insurance never came up, but questions about banned items such as pepper spray did. Why yes, I do have pepper spray I said — and now I do not! Oh well, it probably wouldn’t have helped against bears much, anyway.

Alaskan Highway

We hooked up with the highway and wondered what all the big fuss was about. The road seemed perfectly fine, and the scenery was spectacular. Then we hit the construction area, miles and miles of gravel roads, potholes and dips. Construction work can only be done in the summer, and they’re going full-out along this one stretch we traveled. Lorna drove most of it, and there were only two scary parts. A rock hit our windshield square on but didn’t crack it or leave any damage. Later, I hit an uneven part of the road and we bottomed out hard on one side of the car. Again, the Festiva came through fine and carries on like a trooper.

Day 14 [August 18, 1996] started with rain. We stopped and camped the day before at a place in Tok, and rain poured down in the early morning. The tent performed admirably, and we stayed perfectly dry though unwilling to move into the wet world beyond our fabric walls.

Eventually, we did get up and had breakfast at the campground’s cafe, known for its sourdough pancakes and reindeer sausage. The pancakes were great, but Lorna refused to eat the sausage, fearful of committing some type of sin against Santa Claus. I had one and found it spicy but great, although now I may have second thoughts as my stomach jumps around. It’s probably just reading in the car, not the revenge of Santa Claus or Rudolph.

• Previous In This Series: Orange County, California To Prince Rupert, British Columbia
• Next In The Series: Wrangell-St. Elias National Park

(Note: This is part of my Big Trip 1996 retrospective travelogue. See
this
page for an introduction to it and links to all other posts)

Sunday, August 11, 1996 – We’re in beautiful
Prince Rupert, which is on the coast of
British Columbia where we get the ferry through Alaska’s Inland Passage. We were
supposed to camp here, but it looked like it was going to rain. I stopped in at
the lovely Raffles Inn and talked them down to $40 Canadian, about $30 US, for a
room. It hasn’t rained, but we’re not complaining. We have a big 27" TV, after
all.

We catch the ferry tomorrow afternoon, and I’m looking forward to someone
else doing the driving. Actually, Lorna and I have been switching off pretty
regularly. It’s great, because I break out the computer and never realize that 3
hours have passed by while I work out our budget for the next four months. I
have one of those DC to AC adapters, a godsend since the computer’s battery is
faulty and won’t hold a charge.

Today’s drive was pretty boring, up until the end. Mostly lots of fields, but
the last 2 hours were along a glacial valley and looked a lot like Bergen,
Norway. We also saw plenty of signs warning of wandering moose but no actual
animals, to Lorna’s great disappointment.

Interact with this map
here.

Tomorrow marks Day 8 of our great adventure. Day 1
[August 5, 1996]
took us to the Redwood National Park and
the Northern California coast. We arrived there in the evening, then spent most
of the next day [Day 2] exploring. That was nice, especially when we
found some wild blackberries. I picked a ton and had them with my Cheerios. I
felt like a real nature boy!

Crater Lake

Day 3 [August 6, 1996], we were in
Crater Lake. It really is impressive, sort of like a liquid Grand Canyon in the way it can
be hard to take it all in. We drove around the rim, which is the main thing to
do there, then headed to the Oregon Coast.

Me Walking Across The Dunes

Day 4 [August
7, 1996] was a drive up the coast. We stopped at
Oregon Dunes, which is like a little Sahara along the water. I rolled down a
very large dune and felt like I wanted to puke afterward, but I was glad to have
done it. We were going to rent dune buggies, but they only had one seaters and
we didn’t want to spend $30 each and rent two.

We also discovered that A&W is alive and well up in the Northwest. Lorna and
I stopped at a place so she could experience car hop service. They came out with
our food and hung it on the car window. The only difference to what I remember
as a kid was that the food was slightly smaller and there was no icy mug for my
root beer.

Blimps At Tillamook

The highlight was Tillamook Naval Air Station, which was a former blimp base
just like Tustin. Unlike Tustin, it’s now a museum. They don’t have a lot there,
but I did get a great book to help me with the graphic that I meant to do before
I left. Maybe I’ll do it in Australia.

The disappointment was the Tillamook Cheese Factory. We did the short,
self-guided tour and then planned to scarf down cheese. Instead, we got a long
line and a toothpick to pick out a small chunk of our choice. Then Lorna bought
a banana split milkshake, expecting it to be like banana. It turned out to be
more like strawberry, and she hated it. She says she’ll never buy Tillamook
cheese, now.

Day 5 [August 8, 1996], we were in Tacoma. We got there late the night before, and yes, Tacoma
does smell a bit. Still, it was our first motel after several days camping, so
we were pleased. On the other hand, I had a rewrite of the search engine article
to do [I had a freelance assignment on enterprise search for NetGuide magazine
to finish], so I was up until 6 a.m. I have my fingers crossed the editor likes it.

Actually, Tacoma was a bit of a shock after camping. We’re really quite
organized with getting the tent up and being out there and enjoying it a lot.
Being back in a city was a real shock back into urbanization. This was
especially so as we spend the day driving up to Vancouver. Lots of traffic
around Seattle. Ugh. The worse was getting to the Canadian border and realizing
I never got some insurance card we’re supposed to have. Plus, a driver’s license
isn’t accepted as proof of citizenship any more, and all I had was a copy of my
passport. It turned out we had no problems, pretty much waived through. Still,
we have to cross the border twice more, once after leaving the ferry and heading
through the Yukon Territory, then again when we return back.

Vancouver was weird! It’s a mixture of San Francisco, Seattle and Hong Kong,
along with other cites. Pretty fitting for Canada, which seems a mix of the US,
England and other places. We walked around an area called Gastown. We stayed in
a real dive hostel. Actually, I would have loved it when I was traveling with
Tom [backpacking trip in Europe in 1989], but I guess I’m getting older.

Day 6 [August 9, 1996], we drove to Prince George. There was fantastic scenery for the first
half, as we drove through some spectacular mountains behind Vancouver. Then it
flattened out as we joined the main highway. The best thing are the people.
Everyone wants to have a chat with you, and I have to remind myself not to be in
a hurry to push off.

That brings us to today [Day 7], the drive from Prince George to
Prince Rupert. As I
said, pretty mundane until the end. The ferry trip is supposed to go by some
spectacular scenery, and we have a cabin, so we should be able to watch in
relative comfort!

Next In This Series: The Inland
Passage & Glacier Bay

Just over ten years ago, my wife Lorna and I sold most of what we owned,
shipped it back to her native Britain and spent the next four months traveling
from California to Alaska to Western Canada and then down through the Western
United States to where we started. We then said goodbye to our long suffering
sub-compact Ford Festiva and headed out to Tahiti, Australia, New Zealand and
Fiji. I’d agreed to swap my native California to live in her country, and we
both figured having a giant trip was in order, before we began our new life (and
anticipated children) elsewhere.

I wrote a sort of travelogue for friends and family. If we’d had blogs then,
I’d have been blogging about our trip. Instead, I emailed back to friends and
also posted entries to my personal web site. People seemed to enjoy it, and I’d
always wanted to put it online for others.

That’s what I’m doing now. I’d planned to post each entry exactly 10 years
after I originally wrote it. I’m not quite there, though I might catch up if I
have time.

The first entry is fairly brief, then I started getting more into the
writing, spending a bit more time talking about different places.

The photos aren’t the best. They’ve been sitting in a closet for about 10
years and have been handled a lot. I’m scanning from grungy prints, rather than
clean negatives, and dust turns out hard to be eliminate. Worse, am I neither a
scanning export nor a professional photographer! Still, I hope they give you a
sense of the places we went, especially as how they looked then (I’m sure
they’ve changed since then). Maybe some day I’ll do them over (or have someone
do them) perfectly.

A key thing to the trip was that were were under an extremely tight budget. I
counted every nickel, dime, dollar,
loonie or whatever to make
sure we’d have enough for the entire trip. So you’ll hear a lot about prices and
figuring out how to safe on food and lodging.

The entire trip is listed below. I’ll also update this with links to post
about each segment of the trip. All posts can also be found in my
Big Trip 1996 category.