Council Highway

Upon completing the Kougarok Road, we made a quick trip in Nome for gas and supplies.  Let's see, gas or water?  It seemed to make the most sense, with Bucky having made two stops already for refreshments, that we go with the gas.  Living in Nome is expensive but one cannot put a price on the experience.  We were quick to whip out our Alaska Airlines credit card and felt good in knowing that every dollar spent brought us closer to being able to return to Alaska.  Our next stop was the harbor and some crab to take along for dinner.

As we left Nome on the Council Highway, we followed Iditarod trail markers and could almost visualize Lance Mackey traveling toward Nome with victory in sight as he crossed the Bering Sea ice.

Blue but not sweet

Traveling along the coast toward Safety, we passed by fish camps some active and others waiting for more fish to arrive. 

                                                     Note the fish drying and the scarecrow. 

Last check point before Nome and the Iditarod finish.

A quick call from Chris before losing service told us to seek out a man named Mike Murphy if we made it to Council and didn't want to camp in the rain.  He said that he would be easy to find, just drive up any driveway and ask.  Crossing the Niukluk River is the only entry to Council.  I reread to Bucky the information I had received at the visitors center, "without knowledge of the river, crossing with a vehicle can be extremely dangerous."  I had the feeling that Bucky's deafness came into play at this particular moment.  After a spectacular 70 mile drive through tundra and mountains wrapped in fog we reached the end of the road.  Sitting here on a gravel bar beside the Niukluk River, we hoped that someone would cross so that we might follow their watery path to locate Mike Murphy, whomever he might be.

                   The Niukluk River filled with dying salmon and the town of Council in the distance.

We sat as the rain continued to fall and the evening got later, yet no one crossed the river.  Shortly, two women approached us and asked if we had seen anyone cross.  They were not happy to hear our answer but cleverly, one of their husbands had provided them with a video of the correct way to cross.  They retreated back up the bank to their vehicle to watch it in private.  Thanks so much for the invite !  Shortly after they left, we heard the sound of an engine and turned just in time to watch a truck that was much higher and bigger than ours head into the river.  As it approached, water pushed over its hood and a wake was created making it appear more boat like than truck. Now, I wondered if a warm cabin and a dry bed and a stranger named Mike Murphy were worth losing a rental truck over. What was an Irishman doing in Council anyway?  Next, we heard the rumble of what sounded like Big Foot approaching.  And, over the bank came an old Bronco set on high tires heading for the river.  We were surprised to see one of the women driving and the other heading for the water in her waders.  Evidently the video had given them enough information to attempt the crossing.  In the lead was the woman in waders testing the water.  As she lead, so the Bronco followed.  I sensed that Bucky was thinking, now why didn't I think of that? Jorene's waders are right in the back.  Being ever so brave, after they had successfully negotiated the current, we decided it was safe to follow suit.  Something about sending the women and children out first came to mind. 

Finding Mike Murphy was not difficult.  Asking direction up the first driveway we came to and then heading one cabin over. 

Turns out that Mike, as his name implied, grew up near Boston and headed to AK as a young man to homestead.  He had lived in Nome as a police officer for 25 years and now planned to live full time with his wife at their cabin in Council.  His wife didn't seem totally convinced that living in Council with the company of just one other couple through a winter of total darkness was going to be all that much fun.  Mike was a wealth of knowledge about hunting, fishing, subsistence living, solar energy and local history.  The cabin was cozy despite no running water and the staggering price tag of $65 per person per night with out meals.  Mike gladly cooked up our King Crab which made for a great supper on top of two extra strong vodka and cranberry juice cocktails.  Thank goodness for Bucky's forward thinking in terms of bringing liquid refreshments.  If we hadn't been tired, wet and standing with one foot in the door, we would surely have made a hasty exit.  However, by staying, we were given a view of Nome we wouldn't have seen otherwise.  Perhaps the experience really is priceless!  In the morning, we retraced our water route across the Niukluk and back up into the tundra.

Seeing spawning salmon swim by outside my window was an unusual sight.

When leaving Council we saw our first reindeer, part of a privately owned herd of 22,000 animals.

As we returned to Nome passing through the former site or the town of Solomon, we stopped to look at the Last Train to Nowhere.  This train was to haul freight and passengers during the peak of the Gold Rush between Solomon, lying at the end of Safety Sound, to Council.  For a variety of reasons, financial problems being one, the train never ran.  Now, it sits where it was left.

Now, one road left, the Teller Highway.