Fishing for Kings

Our last two days have been spent on beautiful Clear Creek. Carlisle is an excellent boat woman, handling the big water with ease.

The mouth of Clear Creek is a preferred spot with folks camped out for the King season. People get boated up river, dropped off and spend the King season, 2 weeks, camped on the river. It looked like a lot of fun with folks moving in and out sharing camps. We chose not to fish the mouth but walked up Clear Creek hoping to find fish farther up with fewer people. We did find some fish, but getting one to bite is a big challenge. They no longer are feeding and have one mission which is to spawn. Their uncanny ability to avoid all types of massive hooks and paraphernalia relentlessly thrown at them by people standing within yards, is truly amazing. There is rarely a moment that a hook is not in their face and yet so few are caught. We saw them swim on the surface exposing their size. Some leaped from the water showing fluorescent tackle hanging from their bodies. It's an odd style of fishing, often too close for comfort. I've always been a little nervous of this so called "combat fishing" but, one has to do what one has to do. Having someone from your own party on either side makes it much easier when something goes wrong, such as when the handle of my reel fell off, making it impossible to retrieve my line which now was floating into my neighbors coveted space ! Carlisle to the rescue. From downtown Anchorage, to remote locations, if the Kings are in, people are on the rivers. No fishing is allowed from 11pm until 6am giving the fish time to escape, which hardly seems necessary, but more importantly it's a chance for the fisher people to eat and sleep. We'll keep fishing and with the rivers now clearing up, new possibilities open up on the Talkeetna River.

Life in Talkeetna

Mark's cabin on Second Ave.

the train car in front of the cabin

It's hard to explain what a town like Talkeetna is like. A bit like Skagway, it is a destination for tourists who arrive in RVs like ourselves as well as by the Princess train and Princess buses from Anchorage. There also is the Hurricane Train which runs to Fairbanks and perhaps beyond. It is possibly one of the last flag trains in the US. Many people live "up the tracks" doing things that the rest of Talkeetna really doesn't want to know about. The train can be flagged down and on you go with your pack, your dog, your rifle, your raft, your bike whatever is needed for the next part of the journey. Mark and Carlisle use the train to access the backcountry as do many others. Around town, the locals travel by all modes of transportation, bikes being number one, motorcycles, ATVs of all sizes and shapes with any number of attachments, racks, trailers, truck beds.... anything goes in Talkeetna. Downtown Talkeetna is historic dating back to the Gold Rush. It is here that three large glacial rivers converge, the Talkeetna, the Susitna and the Chulitna. These large silt filled rivers can be very scary. Many of the townspeople live in dry cabins as do Carlisle and Mark. This makes it easy to leave in the winter when the temperatures get well below zero. Living with no water doesn't seem to bother the inhabitants. It seems somewhat like camping out all the time. We had hoped to be fishing for King Salmon on the Talkeetna River where it meets a clear water creek but the rain has muddied the waters so we will have to wait a day or so. Near to Main Street, Carlisle has worked hard to turn a train car into a home, not an easy task. Her friend Mark has lived in his cabin on the same property for a number of years. Underneath the train car are stored kayaks, bike racks, spare tires, tools and everything needed in AK. Talkeetna is said to be a "drinking town with a climbing problem" as it is the staging area for all climbers of Denali. Climbing teams from all over the world set up their tents, lay out and organize the mountains of gear and food necessary for a three week climb of Denali. The climbers basically take over the town to the annoyance of the non-climbing culture. May and June are the optimum climbing months and then these folks move on and others fill the gap. When Fall comes, much of Talkeetna begins closing down and the summer residents leave. There is a celebration by the locals as they reclaim their town. We have met some very nice friends of Carlisle's who run businesses, mush dogs, teach school, work in clinics and eke out a living in this unusual place. One thing is certain, it is a town for the hardy outdoorsman and those that like winter. Presently, it's cool in Talkeetna and somewhat rainy. We'll buy our King stamps tomorrow and Carlisle will jet us up river looking for the fish hanging in the clear water as they make the long journey from the sea to the spawning beds. With any luck, we'll have some luck.

On to Talkeetna

As we headed out of Haines to Haines Jct. we found snow close enough to the road for Fisher to have a frolic. She immediately began to "otter" sliding her body along, dragging me with her. The glasses which I was so fortunate to find at home before we left, were lost again with her antics. By the time I realized that they were no longer in my pocket, here was no turning back to retrieve them. Bucky has some pretty hilarious video of me duckfooting up the steep snowfield followed by me being pulled off my feet by my surefooted K9. It also shows Fisher's fur streaked with crimson. At first I thought she had cut herself, but then realized that it was glacial dust. Why red I'm not quite sure. After getting on the highway we stayed at the incredibly beautiful gravel pull-out that you see above. We now have stayed there three times looking out at the Kluane Mountains.

June 24-26 Skagway and Haines

First there were none and then there were many.

Fisher and I toured Skagway early in the morning. It wasn't planned, but I had to get up at 5 to be able to get a shower as the RV park was so full. After that, we headed into town and found it delightfully deserted, notice the sleeping ship at the end of the street. That was one of three ships at the wharf. Slowly Skagway woke up. First it was the college students with their embroidered shirts, some walking, some riding bikes, looking sleepy eyed with their coffee cups as they headed for their jobs as tour guides, coffee stand employees and such. Fisher and I passed a Starbucks and wished they were open. After the students, from parking lots outside of town, came the tour buses to pick up the ship's passengers and shuttle van drivers to take people to the excursion trains headed for the gold mines. Everyone trying to make their money before Fall. While the streets were empty, I made the courageous decision to pose Fisher off leash in front of this ornate old wooden building. She sat perfectly, letting me take her picture and then retrieve her. From Skagway, we boarded the Matanuska ferry and traveled the short distance to Haines. Fisher remained comfortably in the RV riding below deck. Bucky and I stretched out on chaise lounge chairs under yellow plastic roofing in the stern and took advantage of the heat lamps overhead. Tired travelers stretched out beside us tucked down in their sleeping bags, some worked on computers while one young man played a mean guitar. It was smooth sailing with some nice scenery. When we arrived in Haines, it was love at first sight. I'm sorry I have no pictures to show how spectacular this area is. Even on this overcast day it outshadowed Skagway. It is a real town with a working harbor and average looking people, a nice school, a great grocery store and fewer tourists. From here, it was back on the road to Talkeetna, through Haines Jct. bringing us back into Canada. Too short a stay in the good 'ol USA.


Gradually, Skagway was alive with tourism. The announcements being made on the ships over the loud speaker systems could be heard from where Fisher and I walked. The feeling I got for Skagway is a little hard to explain. It felt somewhat like Fisher and I were extras on a movie set. The plus for Fisher was that she received many, "what a beautiful dog" from the others in the movie with us. She now has over 20 tic marks.

And on to Skagway

Bears seemed to appear everywhere.

We left the Alaskan Highway again to travel down through the town of Carcross and on to Skagway. Carcross lies between Whitehorse and Skagway. This was perhaps the most beautiful part of the trip so far. We were totally surrounded by mountains and drove up into high mountain valleys with lakes holding to the sides of the mountains. Snow came right to the roadside. It would rain and then clear with clouds hanging in the air.We felt our way to the small outpost of Fraser through pea soup fog. It was here that we crossed back into the US and first entered Alaska. After bouncing back and forth from BC to the Yukon, it was nice to be on home turf. We now have been 5200 miles since we left VT. We'll check out Skagway tomorrow and then board a ferry that will take us the short distance to Haines. It is 15 miles to Haines by water and over 300 miles by land. We've heard it's a beautiful mountainous place. I guess we'll find out if the fog lifts and the rain stops.

June 21-22 The Cassiar Highway

We traveled this remote and spectacularly beautiful stretch of road for 450 miles until connected with the Alaskan Highway. As you can see, Fisher was interested in the sights!

We spent our night in a gravel pull-off beside the road with no traffic to interrupt our sleep. A few native villages are scattered the length of the road, but not much else. The Cassiar winds by pristine blue glacial lakes and rivers. Seeing bears became so common place that even Bucky blew by some without taking out his camera. Rivers connect to lakes and lakes become rivers in a valley of Spruce too thick to see through. Equally as thick, are the bugs. If the winds of WY can drive a man mad, the bugs of the Cassiar are sure to do so. We were happy to be enclosed with screens on the windows and thought how awful it would be to sleep in a tent. At mile 97.5 of the Cassiar, one can turn west onto 37a to Stewart, BC and Hyder, AK. Our plan was to go to these towns in search of the Golden Spruce, a huge tree that was cut down by a crazy person. However, we discovered that the tree is only accessible from Prince Rupert and then by ferry, so......no need for us to take 37a. We continued on until connecting with the Alaskan Highway.

Sights of the Bella Coola Valley

Into the Bella Coola Valley

How fitting that we headed into the town of Bella Coola, on the Cariboo Chilcotin Coast on Father's Day. We had talked about someday seeing this small coastal town ever since watching an old Gordon Eastman video in which he goes to Bella Coola, meets with some native men, builds a 3 moose canoe and floats the Bella Coola River. Our plan was only to accomplish the first part of Gordon Eastman's adventure, go to Bella Coola. Once again the native a comes into play. There is only one road into Bella Coola which means the 280 miles in, is the same 280 miles out. This is RT 20 from Williams Lake, BC. It proved to be all that we had hoped it would be. A long, and at points, scary drive with plenty of wildlife to keep us entertained. It is a land inhabited by native people, cattle and horses. Open range. The final stretch over Heckman Pass is what those who have traveled to Bella Coola speak the most about. It's a "well maintained gravel road", although more appropriate for a small Mini Cooper than for our RV. Descending the 18 % grade with hairpin turns sent us directly to the ferry terminal upon our arrival in Bella Coola to see about taking the ocean route out rather than to retrace our steps. Imagine, Bucky preferring seasickness over driving ! Unfortunately, that wasn't an option and we retraced our steps back to Williams Lake on the Solstice, seeing many bears by doing so. Again, God working his magic. With the numerous opportunities to photograph scenery and wildlife, Bucky had one of his best thoughts yet. As he put it, "what I'd like to do sometime is drop you off on the highway and have you video me driving away and get the RV against the mountains." To which I said, "no way". Note to self, learn to drive the RV and drop Bucky off on the highway to video me driving toward the mountains !

June 18th

I had to include a photo of the wheatfields in Davenport, WA. They were an inspiring sight and another reminder of where our food comes from. Traveling out of Davenport, we enjoyed bing cherries, asparagus, tomatoes and potatoes from the Okanogan valley, wandering along the Columbia River and this fertile farm country. Grand Cooley was a town that we thought deserved more of our time, but we needed to keep moving. In the pretty town of Osowoos, WA we entered British Columbia. We then followed the wine trail through a valley of snow capped peaks and signs saying, "no national park". It was easy to see why they might not want their paradise found by others. The Smilkameen River seemed to offer a sweet ride for rafters along with the mountains to climb and ski.

Spokane Jiffy Lube

We enjoyed seeing Eastern Washington. It is said that it is not so much about the journey, but about the people you meet along the way. This proved true at Jiffy Lube. Having reached the 3,000 mile mark, Bucky decided it was time to change the oil while we were still in civilization. Fisher relished her time tied to a tree alongside the garage and spread herself out under its leaves. The young man changing our oil didn't hesitate to crawl under our vehicle on the hot asphalt as it was too large to fit in the bay. He periodically emerged from underneath with a little more grease smeared on his face and would look over at Fisher and smile. He repeated this action several times, with a little more grease on his face each time, but still smiling. While Bucky looked on, he began talking to him of his country and the smart dog his grandfather had owned. Evidently, it herded the goats. "It was so smart a dog." He then spoke of his father's dog, also unusually intelligent, and he looked again at Fisher now sprawled on her side in the shade.  Was he thinking that she also was so smart a dog?  When finished under the truck, he continued his work under the hood. Here he once again emerged, now considerably more dirty, holding our air filter.  Tucked in the accordion like vents were fussy, mummified mouse carcasses. He looked over at Fisher and smiled. Without learning through us, he seemed to know of her success as a rodent hunter. Anticipating the presence of more undiscovered dead bodies, I headed for a Starbucks conveniently placed next door, convincing me that God does work in mysterious ways. We left Spokane, short one pint of VT maple syrup to be enjoyed at Jiffy Lube and wondering if crawling under people's cars in Spokane could ever be as nice as working on the farm in Bosnia.

Mt Rushmore and more...

Leaving the Corn Capital of the World in Mitchell South Dakota was not a difficult decision. Although we both enjoy a good sweet ear of corn on the cob, enough is enough. It was with relief that we reached Rapid City S.D. and began the climb into the Black Hills. Being back in the mountains had a calming affect on the three of us. It was with great anticipation that we looked into the distance to get our first glimpse of the presidents etched in stone. Our pleasure turned to sadness when Bucky learned that there no longer was sufficient stimulus money available for the carving of his profile. It was a shock, but also satisfying to know that so much of the money had been used for other worthy projects. From Rushmore it was through the Blackhills to Deadwood where Wild Bill Hickock lay buried, feeling a part of the old West and the Gold Rush and eventually landing in the hard working town of Gillette, WY for the night. The Wal*Mart of Gillette treated us to the sights of a true western town. It is an industrial town with more white dually pick-ups carrying metal stuff in their beds than exist in the whole Northeast. We settled right in with luxury coaches and the Sticker Bus. What the sticker bus was all about, only the owners know and we didn't ask. I first noticed it down the street parked with roof lights flashing and thought it belonged to a bar and was a rolling advertisement, but when I pulled open my window shade in the morning, it was our neighbor. My brother always said that the winds of Wyoming would drive a sane man crazy. That night the wind howled and shook the RV as if to send it on its side. On Fisher's morning walk, she laid back her ears and headed for the closest curb and ran back into the safety of the camper. Bucky drove through high wind all the next day, Buffalo, Sheridan, Billings MT, Bozeman and into Butte, MT where we slept in the shadow of snow capped peaks. We heard from our fellow Wal*Mart campers that we were lucky to have escaped the hail that they passed through. Now, that explains the Hail Chaser RV parked beside us in Gillette.

So the journey begins....

After leaving Saratoga Springs on the morning of the 13th, we were excited about being "officially" underway. We had previously decided that we were not truly started until we were out of Vermont. It was a struggle to make that happen, but now it was true. As I write this, I remember now that I never did finish cleaning out the frig, I suppose if I call Sutton and tell him, free beer, he'll finish the job for me. Crashing for the night in Saratoga wasn't so bad and Fisher was indoctrinated into camping Wal*Mart style. She seemed happy to smell the sweet smells of the Walmart parking lot, complete with remains of Happy Meals. Fighting the seagulls for them seemed no problem for her, surely an inherited skill from her Siberian ancestors along the Bering Sea. Today was spent traveling through Indian country. First along the Susquahana and then the Allegany, causing Bucky to question his wisdom in having the rifle packed away as we headed into the Seneca Nation. How convenient that the road signage is in both English and the native Seneca tongue. Having very poor radio reception, Bucky and I stayed amused for an hour or more speaking to each other in Indian. They say that it is polite and respectful to try using the language of the area you are in. I have to admit to using sign language a few times. True to the native culture, a three storied, mirror walled casino sprung out of nowhere and tried to entice us in. Along with this temptation, came the sign for the Zippo Museum. Something of this significance seemed like a "must see" but we managed to blow by contented with images of silver lighters expertly flicked open and the smell of Zippo in our nostrils. We are not surprised that Fisher travels like a veteran of the open road. She is quiet and patient never finding fault with Bucky's driving. Oneonta, Elmira, Cayuga, Cautaugua, Seneca, even Tioga, you have to love the a. We crossed the Genesee River causing Bucky to say, "I want one". Looking at the color of the water made we understand more fully why it is an acquired taste. Through Binghamton, Elmira, Suny Cobelskill, Alfred, Saint Bonaventure and Mercyhurst causing us to recall past students who had attended some of these schools. "Let's see, didn't A.F. go to Alfred and play lax, or was he at Hobart? And Suny Cobelskill, I think that's where N.F. went, or did he go to Suny Morristown?" Memories or lack there of. Trying to figure it all out passed away another hour of driving time. And at the Ohio border one has to wonder why Cleveland rocks?
June 14-15
Well, Middlebury Indiana has some pretty parts, but it doesn't compare to Middlebury, VT. We hear that folks from Middlebury,Vermont settled this area as well as Goshen, Indiana. We stopped at the Jayco factory and looked at a few RV units. There really was nothing that tempted us. What was incredible about the area were tha Amish farms and large Amish community. We seemed to have hit the Amish on wash day as everyone had clothes on the line. By the number of items hanging out to dry, it would seem everyone should be walking about naked. They can't possibly wash all those clothes by hand, must be they have gas washers. Seeing the horses and buggies holding the berm while tractor trailers whized by made the clash of cultures very apparent. It was down hill after Middlebury. I sent Bucky to Elkhart Indiana, the home of Winnebago Industries, the only problem being that Tom Tom our on board navigator couldn't locate it. He sent us around and around until I resorted to calling Pete's RV in Burlington to find out the address.....Forest River Iowa ! By the time that Bucky began speaking to me again, we had missed the whole state of Iowa and were in Wisconsin. And people say that the US is soooo big. We missed a whole state without even trying. I think that things happen for a reason and that God works in mysterious ways. He obviously was relieving us of the temptations we might have felt should we have actually found Winnebago. I had one other revelation today as we motored along. As some of you may or may not know, this school year has been difficult. While flying down I 90 with Dolly Parton belting out 9 to 5 on the radio, an envelope dropped from the overhead and landed in the cab. I tucked it back up only to have three more fall down. I took it as a not so subtle reminder to mail in my contract for work for which I have an extension until the 18th. Let's see, the 15th is today, 16th, 17th, 18th.... hmmm. Note to self, rearrange traveling desk over the cab so as not to have anymore reminders fall on my head.
The farm country of Minnesota was awesome and a strong reminder of where our food comes from. We're in Mitchell, South Dakota tonight, Burke remember the Corn Palace? It's off to Mt Rushmore tomorrow where they've asked to see Bucky in person before they start carving his face into the mountain.

Four Days and Counting

I keep asking Fisher if she's ready to make the long trip. I interpret her blah, bla, blah, blah, blah as "Yes, I'm sooooo ready. When are we leaving?" Carlisle still can't believe that her dog is traveling to Alaska to see her. Who knows, maybe we'll get her close enough to see Siberia ! It looks like we're on schedule to leave Saturday June 12th. The house is about ready for our renters who move in on the 22nd and Bucky has work settled in the capable hands of his brother. I have a huge pile of things waiting to be put into the RV and although I know that less is more, I still find it difficult not to include another set of toe nail clippers, food storage container or the like. It's not as if we will never see a Walmart parking lot during the next 5,000 miles. I'm intentionally forgetting some really important items just to be have an excuse to shop. Packed in the storage unit of the RV is the new Hobitat 4, which is sure to see some use in Nome as well as along the Dalton Highway and in Mc Carthy.

Bucky and I are both chomping at the bit to get moving down the highway.