Talkeetna to Deadhorse

On August 15th, with Carlisle's truck loaded, Bucky and I headed to Fairbanks under blue skies with Denali leading us North.  Fairbanks is a 278 mile drive on the Parks Highway, named for George Parks, former territorial governor. It is not named for Denali National Park.  The Parks Highway is both beautiful and terrifying with a speed limit of 65 and most vehicles traveling well above this.  It is my perception that Alaskan drivers are perhaps the most erratic and unpredictable of any I have encountered.  Combine this with the occasional moose stepping into the highway and it creates some heart stopping moments.  However, our arrival in Fairbanks was uneventful.  We arranged to have new tires put on the truck early the following morning and visited Fred Mhyer, the best all purpose grocery in Alaska for our last minute necessities such as Benedryl, tonic and lime. That night we slept in the driveway of Carlisle's friend Molly and caught up with her about her courses at the University of Alaska, met her new sled dog Lindsey and maveled at her friend's dog "Rob".  Maggie's two sled dogs plus Rob were hitched to houses on the side of the drive in puddles of mud. Evidently, Fairbanks which is usually hot and dry, had experienced a rainy summer.

Denali, our guide.

Sled dogs in Alaska are a dime a dozen and many folks have at least that many. Molly inherited her first dog Maggie as an abandoned dying puppy during our 2009 visit. Her next dog, Lindsey, came along a year later to keep Maggie company. Alaskan sled dogs are mutts of all colors, shapes and sizes. Both Maggie and Lindsey have maintained some resemblance to their Husky heritage having long snouts, pointed ears and black masks. Rob also seemed to have inherited the traits of both breeds from which he came, Golden Retriever and Husky. While his front half was smiling in the loyal way of a Golden, with ears flopping and a desire to be petted, head lying on your lap, his rear half looked distant and uninterested, turning away from his head and looking for escape. As Bucky said, it was a pure case of not knowing whether he was coming or going. His inherited desires seemed to play havoc with his emotions making him one of the strangest dogs I have ever met. 

our bed

The following morning we arrived at the tire store bright and early.  We were met by Phyllis. As I have said before, it isn't just the scenery but the people we meet who define the adventure. Pert and pleasant, Phyllis rattled off tire sizes and numbers indicating years of having dealt with rubber. While Bucky shopped tires, I looked at the old log homes tucked within the modern city of Fairbanks.  When I asked Phyllis about the well kept home next to the garage, she responded that it was hers, one of the oldest in Fairbanks, 1911.  

           

                                                                                                                                                              

Phyllis' house

With new rubber, we headed confidently out of Fairbanks onto the Elliot Highway leading us into the beautiful White Mountains and eventally onto the Dalton Highway, a distance of 84 miles.  Shortly outside of Fairbanks cell service is lost, as is pavement and services of most kinds.

On August 16th, at mile 115.5, we crossed the Arctic Circle, latitude 66.  At his latitude, the sun doesn't set on the summer solstice and does not rise on the winter solstice. A third of Alaska lies within the Arctic Circle.

Like most travelers of the Dalton Highway, we slept in pull-offs and gravel pits along the way. No advanced reservations are needed, but sometimes you're not alone.

August 17th, we pulled into the Trucker's Cafe at Coldfoot Camp, mile 175 of the Dalton. Fans of the TV show, Ice Road Truckers, know this as the last stop for truckers heading to Deadhorse with their  huge over sized loads. Here there is lodging, fuel and tire repair. It is hundreds of miles before these are again available. 



Coldfoot Camp

The trucks were both fascinating and annoying.  Their purpose was undisputable and all other traffic made way for their passage.  At times the dust was overwhelming.



After eating a trucker sized breakfast in Coldfoot and using the payphone to let Carlisle know of our whereabouts, we traveled on, taking a short detour across the Koyukuk River at mile 188, into the historic mining town of Wiseman. It was here that we met "Clutch" Lounsbury, former Alaska Highway employee and gold miner. He wandered out of his cabin when he saw us arrive and invited us into his mining museum. The museum was his tribute to his long time mining partner who had since passed away. The stories of lost gold nuggets, playing competitive ice hockey and Ice Road rescues kept us entertained.



Clutch's house

Historic Wiseman

We followed the oil pipeline in and out of the spruces until seeing the "last spruce" at mile 235, now killed by vandals, but still standing.  There now seems to be a last spruce a little further to the north.....climate warming???  At mile 244, we headed up the famous Atigun Pass, through the Brooks Range.  This pass dumped us out on the North Slope.  Here we encountered our first herd of Dall Sheep licking the calcium chloride used on the highway for dust control.

On August 17, mile 318 became our home for the next 8 days.

To be continued....

FIRE !

We spent today busily getting ready to head to Fairbanks and then onto the Dalton Highway, the same
road made famous by the TV show, Ice Road Truckers. Our trip is in hope of seeing and if lucky,
having Bucky take a caribou with his bow.  Carlisle was a big help in getting us organized and fully prepared for this drive of 750 miles one way to Prudhoe Bay.  She generously has lent us her truck for the trip as the road is not fit for the RV.  There need to be provisions for camping, possible breakdown supplies and supplies necessary for hunting.  The Dalton Highway or the Haul Road as it is most often called is primarily gravel so we need to be prepared for flats.  Our plan is to buy new tires and have the truck looked over while in Fairbanks.  There are few services along the Dalton Highway.
 


Getting ready 



hunting regulations, confusing, but necessary



caribou shed, we hope to see this on the head



As you recall, we had moved the RV to beside the defunct church soon to become Northern Susitna Institute.  It has been a great place to be, handy to everything, particularly the Free Box.

We took the opportunity of some warm sunshine to empty the storage units of the RV and see what we had buried within.  Bucky had neatly packed our hunting gear in large tubs for easy transport.

Focused on what we were doing, we didn't notice the smell of smoke or flames stretching up the side of the church originating in the electrical panel.  A man came around the building and asked if we were burning anything at the same moment as he noticed the fire.  The Greyhawk then quickly took flight!  Within moments we had the awning in, slide in, storage tubs thrown in, Fisher in and away to safety.

Tonight we are once again parked beside the church but, lacking electricity.  Oh well, at least the building was saved and we still have the Greyhawk.  Before all of this took place, we made some very good scores from the Free Box.  Having full view of items being dropped off has had its advantages.  I almost had a nice couch for the NSI but we couldn't reach anyone to see if we should drag it over.  Probably just as well as it might have burned up!  The Free Box is a blog of its own so I'll leave it for later.

Arthur Mannix

We spent an afternoon visiting with Arthur Mannix, log home builder, friend and mentor of Carlisle.  Arthur moved to Talkeetna for the climbing after graduating from UNH back when Talkeetna was a small town with few tourists.  Times have changed, but Arthur has stayed.  He holds a wealth of knowledge on all things in the outdoors.

logs peeled by Carlisle for addition on Arthur's house

Arthur and his wife Karen have been great friends for Carlisle to have.  She has savored every bit of wisdom that Arthur has provided her with.  I'm sure that now she could build the best of log cabins.  Arthur and his brother Chris value the old architecture in Talkeetna and have worked hard to preserve this.  Arthur is currently involved with a grant to establish a wood boiler and a plan to provide the Talkeetna Elementary School with wood heat and a plan to make this sustainable.  The savings to the town for a long winter of warmth will be significant.  Arthur and Karen also brought the One Tree Project to Talkeetna Elementary, teaching academics areas through the birch tree native to Alaska.



Gin pole erected by Arthur and Carlisle to lift logs into place.





Heading back to Arthur's workshop to see what he's working on

Arthur showed us his birch basket capable of holding several gallons of water without leaking.  This was just one of his One Tree Projects.



The always handy, birch rain hat !

detail on Mannix cabin

We'll spend more time with Arthur and Karen during our stay and if Artie stays true to form, there will be some exciting tales to pass along.  We are happy to report that Sutton is progressing with his recovery and is now rehabbing in Burlington.  He has been able to shuffle a bit using a walker and is working hard to be able to make the move back home which will make us all very happy.



The Greyhawk moves, fish are caught

the Greyhawk in her new home, notice the mud puddles

soon to be Folk House



Talkeetna free box, clothier of many locals

We made our short transition to the new site of the Northern Susitna Instutute, formerly a branch church of the enormous Church on the Rock in Wasilla.  In terms of religion, Alaskans lean toward atheism or are devout born again Christians.  Either approach seems to work for what Alaska dishes out.  After setting up, we helped launch Carlisle's boat and headed up the Talkeetna River to try our luck on the remaining Sockeye.  When we arrived we were surprised to see the number of charter boats and fishermen.  There is concern by the locals over the fishing pressure being put on this small fishery.  These fish have traveled from Cook Inlet, up the Susitna River, into the Talkeetna River and now are making their final surge up the very narrow clear Larson Creek in an attempt to reach Larson Lake where they will spawn and die, a trip of 100 or more miles.  Although this seems like a long journey, many fish travel much further to reach their spawning ground.  Our fishing was somewhat successful with Bucky catching our dinner.  We were pleased to find Sockeye in the river at this late date.  We did not see any Silvers during our trip up river, so they are yet to arrive.

the launch

dinner



We powered back down river with our backs turned to the wind and rain.  Despite our rain gear, we were pretty well drenched.

It's funny how life works.  One minute we're enjoying its many pleasures and the next we are feeling far away from family and friends.  We received a call from Val that Sutton and a coworker had suffered falls when the staging they were working on collapsed.  Sutton was taken to Burlington with a broken pelvis.  Yesterday, it seemed that he would need surgery to stabilize his pelvis.  Today, in resident rehab seems like an option. The doctor who would perform surgery is on vacation so they have not received a firm decision on what is to happen next.  Sutton was transported from Middlebury to Burlington late yesterday afternoon.  His coworker is hospitalized two doors down with a lacerated spleen.  We are so thankful that it was not more serious.  Maybe moving beside the church was a blessing.  I'm sure we will learn more details today. 

Talkeetna, lively in summer, quiet in winter

The Talkeetna River

old Talkeetna

 


brave Fisher

Bucky and I took a walk into town to see what had changed.  There were a few changes, but basically things looked much the same.  I took some shots of the usual places of historic interest and thought that I might as well throw them on.  Talkeetna has a rich history and if you check the archives of this blog I think at one point I wrote about it.  Talkeetna is a community in which everyone knows one another and consequently we now know many of the locals.  Talkeetna's history revolves around the confluence of three large rivers, the Susitna, the Chulitna and the Talkeetna.  The rivers were at one time the main avenues of transportation for trappers, miners and homesteaders.  Talkeetna is also known as  the staging area for all climbs of Denali.  This means that Talkeetna has a busy airport transporting climbers, sightseers and all people wanting to hunt and fish in the bush.  There was no road to Talkeetna until sometime between 1950-1960.  Up until then, people depended on the rivers, primarily when frozen and the railroad for transportation.  Talkeetna boasts the last regular flag-stop train in the nation.  The train is utilized by those living in the bush who transport almost anything that will fit on the train.  It is also used by hunters, hikers and fishermen.  Dogs are allowed aboard.   

Nagley's Store and Talkeetna dogs including Fisher

4 wheelers are used by locals who live "up the tracks"





B and F on cart path

Talkeetna is known for her bush pilots.  One of the originals was Don Sheldon who made heroic landings on glaciers and in places no pilots had ever thought of landing before.  All of these were out of necessity to rescue or provide service to those in the bush.  At that time, the bush pilot was the only person able to help those living remote.  Don Sheldon's original hanger is now a community center used for art showings, banquets, plays, weddings and concerts.  It is Talkeetna's gathering place.  I didn't take a picture, but as you can guess, the Hanger, as it is known, sits right on a grass airstrip in the middle of town.  Local home owners have their airplanes tied down here.  So, you might be walking down any street in Talkeetna and hear the engine of a Piper Cub preparing to take off,  Shortly, it passes overhead heading into the wilderness.  Locals can tell who it is just by the sound of its engine.  If you like airplanes, Alaska aircraft history and bush flying, Talkeetna has all the resources around this.  Today, Saturday, August 6th, we will move the RV about 500 yards closer to downtown, to an old church that is being renovated by some energetic and amazing educators and artisans.  It will become the Northern Susitna Institute.  This will be a Folk school modeled after the North House in MN http://www.northhouse.org/.  A very interesting concept.  We were invited by a couple of the founders to park there and tap into their electricity and water in exchange for some of Bucky's construction know how.  It will be a great spot for us and they like the idea of having someone staying on the grounds.  It also is about 400 yards from Carlisle's cabin!  I'll send some pictures of the new digs after our move.  We also hope to get Carlisle's boat in the water today and take a ride up the Talkeetna and see if there are any Sockeye around as well as if the Silver salmon are in yet.  Alaska is all about the salmon!  



Don Sheldon's hanger (into the light, sorry)

Part two, Wow, Alaska, how long will that take?



Mile 0 of the Alaska Highway

It was great to reach Beaver Creek, BC and begin our journey on to Alaska via the Alaska Highway.  After a point, the Alaska Highway is the main road other than waterway by which to reach Alaska. It is the chosen route of most travelers and all truckers.  Vehicle watching becomes a primary distraction while putting in long driving days.  Most of the highway provides incredible scenery and lots of wildlife, often in the middle of the road.  

Hum, looks tasty!

Dawson Creek to Delta Jct. Alaska is about 1300 miles.  The road is marked with mileposts, kilometer posts when in Canada.  I can follow the mileposts in a special publication creatively called, The Milepost.  This book tells what lies ahead and is very useful in finding pull-offs to spend the night in, gas and repair service.  Many of the former lodges, gas stations and repair shops along the highway are now closed and boarded up as the modern self-contained RV traveler speeds through no longer needing these services.  The ALCAN, as this road was formerly known was begun in 1941 after the bombing of Pearl Harbor.  Military engineers were directed to put a road through the wilderness connecting the existing native trails.  In this way the lower 48 would be connected to Alaska which seemed critical to the War effort.  10.000 or more troops came to the area with the aid of many civilians and in what is now described as an engineering marvel.  Following the topograph, this road winds through the Canadian Rockies, crosses huge glacial rivers and passes through miles and miles of forest.  Remarkably, the ALCAN highway,as it was then known, was completed in just 8 months and 12 days.  Aircraft and skillful pilots played a huge part in directing the placement of the highway through uncharted wilderness.  In 1948, the Alaska Highway was openned to the public, but it was not the smooth ride of today.  We have heard from some old timers what the trip was like back then.  Even today, as Carlisle will attest to, after suffering a flat tire last January at -30, it is not a road to be taken lightly.  However, we suffered no mishaps on our third crossing.

Rapeseed or canola

Traveling through BC there are yellow fields of canola and farm land.  Fort St. John and Fort Nelson are hard working oil towns with big trucks, dual wheeled pick-ups and men with big arm muscles.  Not bad to look at except for the cigarette smoking that accompanies them.  We filled up the RV, 55 gallons, in Fort Nelson which had Bucky grumbling about the oil situation for the next few hundred miles, $1.45 a liter which converts to around $5.80 a gallon!  It seems incredible that anyone is driving anywhere, but necessity warrants it.  The forest here stretches on forever lined with the most wonderful wild flowers, dominated by fireweed, which is now turning red as it looses its purple bloom.

July 31 found us spending the night near Fort Nelson.  The next morning we drove through Muncho Lake Provincial Park and on to the city of Watson Lake.  Here we looked again at the signpost forest which runs along the roadside.  Signs are placed here from all over the world by travelers and it grows larger each year, obviously a sustainable resource.  Speaking of the forest, we noticed damage by the Pine Beetle to almost all the pines along the road until after Watson Lake.  At this point the trees seemed unaffected.  Last year, we saw the extreme damage caused by the Spruce Bud Worm in BC.  This wasn't apparent here. 

As we drove through Muncho Provincial Park and along the shores of turquoise Muncho Lake.  Stone sheep stood both in and along the roadside.



as did the black bear

We were excited to see the sheep as they are so much fun to watch.  They seemed unafraid as they climbed over the rocks and fed on the verge.  One little lamb was especially cute.  When not seeing sheep, we were looking for bear and buffalo.  Caribou were also present, but we only saw one. 

calves accompanied their mothers



Muncho Lake

Muncho Lake Provincial Park is always spectacular with the highway hugging the turquoise water.  This deep lake supposedly obtains it color from leaching copper oxide.  The highway winds through the Canadian Rockies for more than 200 miles.  August 1st found us camped in the Yukon beside the Swift River.  Then it was Whitehorse and the mighty Yukon River and on to the Kluane Wilderness with its towering mountains and beautiful water. We drove along green-blue Kluane Lake.  Again, this is an amazingly beautiful part of the highway and much improved since we first traveled it in 2008.  There are two largish communities, Destruction Bay and Burwash Landing which hug the lake shore.  Kluane Lake is the largest lake in the Yukon and was showing significant whitecaps as we passed by.  The temptation is always present to just stop and spend some time, but there also is the need to keep moving on.

Kluane Lake

We have now been on the road for eight and a half days.   Finally, on August 2nd, we arrived at the Alaskan border and our return to the US through Port Alcan.  We were alone at the Alaska entry sign until several German motorcyclists arrived and nicely volunteered to take our picture.  There are many motorcyclists on the highway and traveling within Alaska.  We have been told that the Germans in particular come because of their love of the mountains.  It is easy to see after so many days of travel above the lower 48 how Alaskans feel a lack of connection to the rest of the US.  Most of them seem to like it that way for any number of reasons.

August 2nd, it took 9 and 1/2 days to reach AK!

We were able to conveniently meet up with Carlisle in Anchorage after spending a quiet evening along the highway near Tok, Alaska.  It was here that we officially left the Alaskan Highway and made the 5 hour drive to Anchorage.  Carlisle was finished with her summer job aboard the Maritime Maid doing work for the US Forest Service, quite an amazing experience being helicoptered into remote locations.  If you're interested, you can see the Maritime Maid at http://www.maritimehelicopters.com/.  We now will  plan what might be available for us in the way of hunting and fishing in the days to come.  Today we are in Talkeetna, Carlisle's home town at the foot of Denali.  The weather is a cool and drizzly 53 degrees, and I thought that I might need that little sun dress!  Stay posted!