Alaskan Caribou

Jorene, Bucky and Carlisle 

My hand brushed against the Labrador tea sending its pungent fragrance into the air as I settled belly down on the tundra. My camouflage clothing concealed me from the caribou herd passing just 20 yards away; so close that I dared not lift my camera for fear of being seen. Instead, I stayed face down in the lichen and crow berry leaves raising my head periodically to glance at the animals parading in front of me. For the first time ever, I felt the ground tremble under the weight of hundreds of oversized hooves. Some animals huffed and grunted; their heads lowered while chewing mouthfuls of lichen. I heard stiff stemmed plants being crushed by strong teeth. I desperately wanted to photograph the sights before me, but I dared not move a muscle for fear of spooking the herd and maybe ruining, my daughter’s chance of shooting one of the bulls.

This was our third fall hunting caribou from Tyrrell's Trails Lodge https://tyrrellstrails.com 

and we were seeing the largest number of caribou ever. Several times each day, hundreds of caribou passed before our camp. It was a picturesque migration. The odd thing was, they were almost always headed north!

Using binoculars to locate them in the distance, we positioned ourselves hoping to be on their chosen path. We were often lucky, but other times they seemed to vanish into thin air. While the tundra appears wide open, there are ridges, dips and valleys that the caribou slip into and walk behind. They also can cover ground with amazing speed.

Bucky was fortunate to get his bull on the first day of our hunt. He sat camouflaged against a rocky outcropping and was blessed with a favorable wind. Caribou are often described as cow like, goofy and not particularly challenging to hunt. However, if spooked, a herd can “spin on a dime” and be gone. 

The job of field dressing a large animal is never easy and at our age we welcomed the help of Carlisle and her friend Carter. They were on a stalk and never heard Bucky shoot. As Bucky and I worked on the animal I kept looking in the distance hoping to see them approach. They arrived from an unexpected direction and had a story of big bulls that had given them "the slip", Their youthful strength and endless humor made our task much easier. Our meat was put into game bags and transported up to the plane’s landing area where it was taken out of the bags and laid on a tarp to be exposed to the air. It's ideal to dry the meat’s surface and by doing so protect the interior meat. With cool temperatures our meat set up quickly.

Nightly frosts had the tundra changing color and each morning we arose to new beauty. 

Carlisle and Carter chasing bulls. 

Tundra patchwork

Skylining bulls

I spent hours walking the tundra, sometimes accompanying Carter and Carlisle and other times on my own. I felt comfortable doing this although one morning fog moved in quickly and I hustled back to camp. I always carry my camera so when I saw movement in the rocks, I was ready. At first the ground squirrel stuck only his head out of his underground home. I didn't move and he gradually exited his hole standing tall with front paws held at his chest. I could see by the length of his nails/claws that digging in this rough terrain was a made easy. The droop of his mouth gave him an adorable appearance.

I inched closer and closer to him, snapping pictures as I went. He posed unafraid until he'd finally had enough and ducked beneath the earth. They certainly are well adapted to the life they live.

Neither Carter nor Carlisle took animals. The opportunities were there, but they chose to wait. Bucky and I were picked up by Carlisle's husband, Luke while Carlisle and Carter walked and hunted the 8 miles back to the lodge. We used the lodge's meat cutting table, vacuum sealer and freezers to cut, seal and freeze our meat.

meat cutting and packaging

Caribou antlers of lodge clients.

Luke and Lisle peer into the airplane taking us back to Fairbanks.

Leaving Carlisle, Luke and the lodge behind is always difficult. It's hard living far away from those we love. We spent almost a month at the lodge and assimilated into lodge life. Now, we'll leave Fairbanks and begin the long drive to VT. Our caribou is in our motorhome freezer and we'll have the company of Lisle's dog Pika......the best dog ever!

Pika

"Bring a good raincoat!”

August in Alaska can be rainy, but we were anxious to use our motorhome, so we left the rain in Talkeetna and drove to the Kenai peninsula. It had been several years since we'd been South of Anchorage, so this seemed the perfect time to do go. 

The small town of Hope was our first stop. It can be seen on the map  beneath the letter A in Anchorage.

One road leads south of Anchorage, the Seward Highway. This heavily traveled roadway winds along the Turnagain Arm of Cook Inlet and beneath snowy Chugach Mountain peaks. The town of Hope, similar to Talkeetna, is at the end of a 17 mile spur road. Although the population of Hope is said to be about 100 residents, it's a very popular summer destination. This particular weekend, music filled the air, people strolled the streets and a celebration of some sort was happening. Hope's scenic beauty combined with its laid back vibe makes it hard to resist. Our hope, pardon the pun, of camping in Hope near Resurrection Creek was quickly squelched. Fishermen lined the creek banks and all campsites were taken either by them or those partying in the street.

The Seaview Cafe, recently sold and renamed the Hope Cafe, is often the site of music in Hope.

I love the white and green theme that plays out in Hope.

Take note of the paper ballot!

        Two people stand on the marsh in Hope looking across the Turnagain Arm.

It's only 40 plus miles from Hope to Moose Pass, so we continued on certain of a camping spot there. Moose Pass claims a population of under 300 people and lies on the shore of Upper Trail Lake, surrounded by towering peaks. Unfortunately, a steady stream of traffic passes through this small village headed to Seward. We were happy to leave this line of traffic and pull down the short dirt road leading to the ballfield. I assume this once was a ballfield, but now, through word of mouth, it's become a popular free lakeside camping area.  

A small boat breaks the glassy surface of Trail Lake.

Seward is 30 miles beyond Moose Pass and is often considered the gateway to Kenai Fjords National Park. My hope was to camp along the beach. From there we could watch Seward’s busy harbor and walk easily into town. I attempted booking online as required, but repeatedly found no sites available although we’d seen many unoccupied sites while driving through. After some searching, I found a phone number to call. To my amazement, rather than hearing "press 1 for this and 2 for that", a man's voice answered. He understood our desire and was able to quickly assign us a site in the perfect location. There's always a sense of relief to be settled in somewhere.

No one ever parked beside us which was an added bonus. It wasn't until I looked at my emailed receipt that I noticed the privilege of booking through a human had cost us an additional $10. Definitely money well spent!

                                                 

Seward is a bustling town and harbor with many shops and tourist attractions including fjord tours and the SeaLife Center. www.alaskasealife.org. We have enjoyed each of these in the past so we were content to relax and feel sun on our faces while listening to the waves crash.

However, I did leave the shore to take a walk through some of historic Seward. I’ve always loved the small cottages and bungalows that line Seward's side streets. Historic in Alaska refers to the 1900's which for a New Englander seems almost modern! This cottage caught my eye.

The trim and fireweed match in color!

Circa 1916

St Peter’s Episcopal Church circa1905

On July 4th, Seward celebrates the Mount Marathon Race. On this day racers scramble 3022 feet to the summit of Mt Marathon and slide back down on a very steep trail easily seen on the mountain’s face.

Once again, Seward is at the end of the road so we retraced our steps, making a stop at Exit Glacier,

I was anxious to see if this glacier like others was receding. Our first visit was in 2008, then again in 2013 and 2019.(check the blog archive August 2008 for some humor on our first visit)

I admit that while others "oohed and aahed" I was somewhat underwhelmed. Absent were the bright blues of refracted light radiating with such surreal beauty as to take ones breath away? The blue achieved in the photo above was in part through photo editing. Perhaps it was my perspective, but I saw dirty grey snow similar to a melting ski hill when Spring arrives in Vermont. I attribute this jaded view to having been spoiled seeing glaciers close up through an airplane window. Regardless, with that being said, I know with certainty, Exit Glacier is receding.

We drove back through Moose Pass and onto the Sterling Highway to Soldotna where we exited for the city of Kenai, spending that night at Walmart. Here the rain started in earnest. Little did we know that it would last for 10 days. This wasn't drizzle, but heavy downpours with intermittent light rain. We now follow the Alaskan adage, “if you don’t do things in the rain you’ll never do anything.” Still, it’s hard to be motivated. I guess I've adopted some Alaskan behaviors since I now leave the cabin in light rain without wearing a raincoat and sometimes question as to if it's actually raining at all. Yesterday I caught myself looking into mud puddles to determine if it was mist hitting my face or if it was in fact still raining. Kenai has lots of beach to walk, a wonderful visitors center and some historic buildings. I was primarily interested in revisiting the Russian Orthodox Church which sits just above the beach.

From Kenai to Homer the ocean dictates the livelihood of those around it. Fisherman walk creeks flowing to the ocean, fishing charters and commercial fishing boats seek deeper salt water, canneries processed the catch and restaurants serve food fresh from the sea. Halibut purchased fresh from the dock in Homer was a delightful treat well worth $30 a pound.

                     Nothing from the sea goes to waste. 

At Deep Creek, tractors are used to place fishing boats in the water.

We were able to walk the beach a few times between showers. It was hard to photograph the eagles without them looking bedraggled.

The rain gave The Holy Transformation of Our Lord Russian Orthodox Church in Ninilchik a most solemn appearance.

We spent six days on the Kenai Peninsula. Each one filled with ocean views minus seeing the volcanos that dot the far shore of Cook Inlet.

We finished our trip with a return visit to the Norman Lowell Gallery. We learned that the gallery, housing Mr. Lowell’s life work, is now a nonprofit ensuring that all those who wish to view his art will have access to it. 

Norman Lowell, his wife Libby and infant child arrived in Anchor Point in 1958 from Iowa before the existence of the Seward Highway. By way of the Homestead Act, they acquired 160 acres and there they built a small cabin on a bluff overlooking Anchor Creek. Norman dedicated his life to teaching art and capturing with his brush strokes Alaska’s unique beauty. We had the pleasure of meeting this artist in 2008 many years before he became legally blind from Glaucoma thus ending his artwork. 

        This photo taken when meeting the artist in 2008.

I wished in 2008 to be able to afford one of his paintings, some of which were selling for $3,000. Now, his art can sell for as much $100k. 

We were told that today at 96 Norman lives in assisted living in Homer, but Libby still lives in their house on the homestead. I feel grateful to have met this artist who is often described as “Alaska’s artist”. There’s no doubt his brushes were guided by his love for Alaska.

His large canvases, some as big as 9’ by 14’ envelope the viewer.

Mother lode

Our friend, Trapper Tim once said, “a visit by family to Alaska is more precious than gold”. 

I know this is true. Leaving our family behind in Vermont during our summer stay in Alaska is always difficult. So, when our son Levi and family traveled from Vermont to our Alaskan cabin in Talkeetna, we struck it rich. 

As soon as their plane landed, weeks of rain became a distant memory, sunshine streamed down and the air warmed. Our days together in Talkeetna were filled with swimming, dog mushing, river running, backyard fires and Denali views.

Fish Lake

Clear Creek yielded Rainbow trout and Arctic grayling.

Tigger Lake hydration.

Our daughter, Carlisle travelled from Fairbanks to join us followed by her husband, Luke, who flew his plane down. Soon after, we headed north to Chandalar Lake. We flew in two airplanes, Luke piloting one and Lisle the other. It’s a three hour flight to their lodge in the Brooks Mountains, above the Arctic Circle.

https://tyrrellstrails.com/

Luke, Levi, Joanna and girls

The dog, Pika, rode comfortably with me in Carlisle’s plane.

Our days at the lodge were filled with chores and fun. Temperatures in the 80s called for numerous beach parties. Hot dogs were roasted, s'mores were consumed and a kite was launched. The clear water of Chandalar Lake and Tobin Creek refreshed the body and soul.

A new outhouse was built, kitchen cupboards were repaired after being destroyed by a bear last fall and the garden was weeded and refreshed with new seed planting. Luke flew folks into the high country to dig for crystals and one grandchild's dream of "driving a 4 wheeler by herself" was granted many times.

                                       

Cutting the barrel for the outhouse hole.

Testing the seat

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cupboard repair

 Quartz doesn't compare to gold in value, but on this day, it was priceless. 

t

Blueberry picking! Mosquitoes too.

Crystals!

One of our many beach walks yielded driftwood horses which were painted and named. 

Checkers and her foal will arrive at their new home in VT this October. Many hours were spent practicing dressage, ending in a final trail ride to the runway before boarding the plane for the ride back to Fairbanks.

It was sad to see our family leave, but our time together was unforgettable. Perhaps their visit helps them understand our love of Alaska and why we will visit as long as we're able. 

                        "Life is a journey, and every goodbye paves the way for a                                   new hello".