The Great One (not me)

So at this point on our Alaskan cruise and land tour, I have been saturated with Yukon and Alaskan facts, to the point I refuse to try to educate you anymore, at least for a few paragraphs.  We reached Denali National Park and Preserve, our last “real” stop, for a two-night stay, just a mile from the park entrance.  We are staying on a property owned by Holland America, the Mt. McKinley Chalets, just like all the properties we have overnighted in since we first stepped onto the cruise ship, the Volendam.

We awoke early the next day, like most of our days on this journey; to take a school bus that had been retro-fitted with some high back seats, in the attempt of giving park goers a comfortable seat into the park, on the “Tundra Tour.”  Except for a few exceptions, this is the only way of experiencing the park.  On the bus, you are educated, entertained, and exhausted by your bus driver, who doubles as your tour guide.  If you can endure this for 6 to 8 hours, you will (most likely) get off the bus at the end of your tour with a camera full of photos including wild wildlife, incredible landscapes, and of course…selfies.  The ultimate reward, after logging about 120 miles, while traveling at sometimes a snails pace, is the view of Denali, The Great One, as it is translated from the Koyukon people, into English.  The tallest mountain in North America, at just over 20,300 feet, it is iffy at best to be able to view it on any given day.   This is due to the fact that since it is so high into the atmosphere, it creates it’s own weather, which ends up covering itself in clouds to various degrees many days.  On our day, we saw it from a great distance, partially covered, but when we reached our turn around vista point, we were socked in with low hanging clouds and mist.  What makes it spectacular to me is that it is more than a mile higher than most of surrounding peaks.  For those of you that appreciate the 14er’s in Colorado…add a little over a mile more in elevation to each of them and you would be in the neighborhood of The Great One.

Look behind the dark ridge line and what looks like white is Denali.

A "small" mountain!

Upon exiting our bus, after a bit over 8 hours, our wildlife checklist included a golden eagle, a few caribou, dall sheep (the ones with the spiral horns, that ram each other and come away concussion-less…as far as we know), a harrier hawk, not to be confused with the hawk owl we saw, 8 brown bears (three of which were feeding on a caribou carcass, the carcass not included in the caribou count above), some ptarmigan, and an overgrown ground squirrel.  And that does not include the wildlife just off the park road watching us through the bushes as we made our way along the park’s gravel road.  Of course you want what you didn’t see, like a wolf or moose, but I think we had a pretty healthy viewing.  Karen and Stuart saw a moose cow and her baby that night on their chuck wagon excursion and we saw their pictures, so I guess in a way we saw a moose too.  So the wolf was the elusive one, along with the wolverine, and I’m sure a number of other residents of the park.  On the train leaving Denali for Anchorage, we heard another tour group sharing our train car, that they saw a wolf on their tour, so by that association, we saw a wolf as well!  So other than the wolverine, that was probably peering through the bushes at us as we drove by, it was a good day!

Nice rack!

Beth was like a moose magnet, just not in Denali.

Golden Eagle

It was in the grass because it was eating on a rabbit...see it underneath?

Caribou chillin'.

White dots...Dall sheep.  Bus driver got tired of us yelling stop to look at
them.  There were many and farrrrrrr away!

Momma and one of her two babies...two year old babies.

Just another bear...ho hum.

See the Caribou antler sticking up between the two bears?

Not much left on the bone...they soon left the dinner table and moved on.

Ptarmigan.

Bigger than it looks...maybe a foot tall.

Even without the wildlife, the landscape is just jaw dropping.  The vastness, the colors, the idea of trying to survive out in it, wears me out.  After viewing the pictures, while bouncing down the road, it was apparent they just don’t do the real thing justice.  I guess that is true for most subjects being photographed.  I actually gave up on some taking some photos due to that reason.  It’s a sensory experience that a viewfinder cannot replicate, even 4K video.  With all that said, here are a few attempts at sharing our fieldtrip into Denali.

An area called Polychrome...many colors.

Lots of braided streams.

Glaciers off in the distance.

We boarded the train to Anchorage the next morning and spent about 8 hours watching the mountains recede into the distance, as we headed towards sea level.  Anchorage holds most of the population in the state of Alaska, about 330,000, according to multiple tour guide trivia fact dropping moments that I started to ignore, so that might not be exact. 

Karen and Stuart looking out over Talkeetna.

After spending about 30 or so hours in Anchorage, it appears to have been frozen in a 60’s motif, as far as its vibe and architecture…to me anyway.  And again, that is with only about 30 hours under my belt, which a few of those I was sleeping.  The most modern touches seemed to have been added by a number of breweries in town.  One of which, truly has awesome food, probably beer too, but I stayed away from the beer, thanks to a rented Prius, but I topped off my cruise and land tour weight gain with their seafood chowder, which was like desert!  Thank you Glacier Brewhouse, for letting me leave my trip with a good taste in my mouth! Hahaha!

And finally, to kill a few hours until our red-eye flight home could begin; we saddled up our Prius and rode up the Turnagain Arm of Cook Inlet from Anchorage, and caught by total coincidence, surfing of the bore tide.  Google it and educate yourself.  I got my education on it about 20 years ago from a former student teacher and friend of mine, Matt.  Matt and his wife Cristina have taught and lived on Kodiak Island, AK ever since then.  They had just moved up to Alaska and before selling their RV, they moved up there in, we had one last hurrah traveling around many of the highlights Alaska has to offer.  One of the surprises we were treated to was the bore tide on the Turnagain Arm.  Now, a bunch of years later, Beth and I hit it just right and we spent some time chasing the tide as it came in.  At one point Beth spotted some people “upstream” standing in the water.  I thought maybe they were fishermen, but they turned out to be surfers, waiting for the tide to roll in.  My first experience with it was years ago, did not involve surfers, just watching the water roar back from the ocean, and it was pretty awe-inspiring then as well.  Witnessing these guys (and one woman) with my own eyes, catching what amounted to a wave a couple of feet high, was quite a spectacle.  Being right along the highway (2-laner), the event drew quite a crowd at every turnout.  For the surfers that could stay ahead of the wave, they rode it for maybe a mile or so.  For the ones that fell behind the wave, the incoming current kept them moving forward, they just didn’t look as cool.

Surfing, Alaska style!

So Cool!  Once again, the pictures don’t do it justice, but this Youtube video link should help.  Cut and paste the address below into your internet browser (if you can’t, click on it) and enjoy some surfing...Alaska style…

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g1ZDZuW7zjs

Epilogue:

I’m afraid a final impression I made, before heading to the airport, may have been interpreted as somewhat questionable.  We had to check out of our hotel earlier in the day, but Beth having the foresight of a seasoned traveler, thought to ask the front desk if there was a way we could come back in the evening, to clean up one last time.  They agreed to let us have access to the Men’s and Women’s Athletic Club.  That’s right…that’s how we roll when we travel near the Arctic Circle.  So basically we are talking locker rooms, workout equipment, access to a pool, hot tub, and saunas…steam and dry.  Actually, the places I usually stay have never had to worry about replacing the towels in their Athletic Club, cause there isn’t one!  Any who, the prospect of experiencing one was slightly exciting.  They gave Beth two room keys (cards) to show we had privileges to the attendant in “the club,” even though we had previously checked out.  So upon our arrival back at our swanky hotel, we grabbed our pre-prepared bags for clean up and headed in.

The his and her clubs were located on opposite sides of the hotel on the bottom floor, so we split up.  The pool evidently joined the two sides from what Beth saw earlier on her reconnaissance mission.  We both were looking forward to a little relaxing warmth in our respective sauna and hot tubs.  Beth, having checked out the facilities the day before upon checking in, was familiar with the club protocol.  Me on the other hand was ignorant.

I pulled open the door, wearing my jeans, t-shirt, a fleece jacket zipped up a few inches, and a few days worth of face fuzz.  A few feet into the door was a small desk area, with an attendant behind it, waiting to check me in.  Beyond that, was a small lounge area, with some leather couches, a TV, and a couple of older gentlemen watching a ball game.  I walked in with my plastic bag, clothing spilling out the top, introduced myself to the attendant, and tried to explained the situation.  He looked back at me, as if I was homeless, trying to talk him into letting me clean up for the week.  I presented the room keycard, and persisted with the story that the front desk said it was okay and that I could take a shower before flying home.  With his continued look of suspicion written all over his face and half his torso, he told me that the men’s showers haven’t been working for weeks and he seemed curious the front desk sent me anyway.  I persisted with my most convincing, non-homelessness way I could, while my appearance shouted…”Look at me, I’m homeless.”  Between me not smelling too badly at this point in the day and having the room key in my possession, he finally softened and told me that they had reserved a room on the third floor for those needing a shower and handed me the keycard.  Bingo!

Before the attendant changed his mind, I turned and headed up to the third floor.  As the anxiety of getting caught by the Hotel Athletic Club Police drained from my thoughts, they were replaced with what if this was a “special” room where a married man might rendezvous with a woman of questionable ethics…off the radar?  I guess they both would be of questionable ethics.  Now who thinks like that?  What if I walked in on some “business” going on?  Oh well, it was all for not when I walked in and saw a pile of folded towels on the bed and a hamper for the used ones right next to the bed.  Why wouldn’t guests just go back to their rooms to shower after using the facilities?  Oh well.  I took the fastest shower ever recorded in Anchorage, all the time hoping that some homeless guy wouldn’t walk in and interrupt my shower.  I promptly returned the key and promised the attendant my first-born, and hurried to meet Beth in the lobby.  Goodbye Alaska!

My Zen from the Road:  You just never know.  On this trip, we met and learned about some people that found their way “up” here to live, sort of off the radar.  I don’t mean that like, I have a warrant for your arrest, kind of off the radar.  For example, there was a girl…a young woman… who told Beth she read Call of the Wild as a kid and had to come up here to see for herself and ended up staying.  Another was a guy that was dared to live in a cave by his buddies, liked it, and is still living in it.  He drives his boat across the river and makes furniture for people in his woodshop.  And a guy that comes to town, or should I say paddles his canoe from his island, and plays an old upright piano in a bar for tips.  Everybody has a story.  Some secretive, some can’t wait to share it.  Either way, it’s theirs. 

The piano man.

By the way, the piano player…he used to be a concert pianist for the Calgary, Alberta philharmonic (as his story goes, as told by someone else…ha!).  Who knows…and does it really matter?

Our tour group.  We are front and center.

Fall is already showing it's color as the Aspen begin to turn in the Yukon.

Sea to Land

Having been on the water for a few days, we finally went onshore in Juneau, Alaska’s capital.  We walked the shops along the waterfront (so not worth it), many of them owned by the cruise line, and took a bus to the Mendenhall Glacier (so worth it).  As it was getting late in the day when we disembarked, we ate a late lunch, then frantically looked for transportation to the glacier.  Luckily we found a tour bus making its last round to the park.  We hopped on and made our way across town to the Mendenhall Glacier.  We hit the main viewing spots, snapped some pics, and went to wait for our ride back to the ship.  While waiting at the bus stop, we were treated to a brief encounter with a black bear that was interested in the salmon, living out their genetic responsibility of spawning in a nearby creek, just steps away.  Definitely a better Alaskan experience than the shops in town!  Back on board that evening, we finished packing and sailed to our final port, Skagway.

Drifting into Juneau.

Mendenhall Glacier and Nugget Falls.

All that work, only to become bear food!

For some reason, I did not connect the dots that at least the first part of our cruise and land tour celebrates the gold rush to the Klondike, that began in the late 1800’s.  So this adventure took on an educational twist, besides that of our beer exploits on the ship.  So, goodbye Volendam…hello Skagway.

Looking towards Skagway from the ship.

Looking toward the back of the ship.

Looking toward Skagway from an overlook.

Skagway was the jumping off point for over 100,000 wannabe miners, looking for gold, once word got around about a year after gold was first discovered in the Yukon, in Canada.  The problem was, that once your ship docked, you still had another 500+ miles to go to get your chance to find your fortune.  But this is not a history blog, so I will keep my educational snippets to a minimum.  

Skagway is roughly 20 blocks by 5 blocks in size.  It has a main drag, leading away from the docks with numerous stores, again…many owned by the cruise line.  There is a weird, disproportionate number of jewelry stores compared to the other stores as well.  I didn’t spend much time trying to figure that one out.  While our bags were being delivered to our hotel (also owned by the cruise line), we visited the city cemetery, where a few colorful historic characters were laid to rest from Skagway’s early days.  Headstones, dating back to the late 1800’s, were within a short hike of a beautiful waterfall.  After a short ride back to the hotel, we checked in, walked the city of Skagway, supported a number of stores and establishments, then back to prepare for leaving the next morning on our land adventure.

Cemetery

Where's Waldo?

Beth in a shower of bubbles.

T-shirts only...no bikes!

I finally found the truck I fell off of a long time ago!

Downtown Skagway

The miner’s heading into Canada in search of gold became a concern for the Canadian authorities, because most of those seeking out their riches had no clue what they were getting into.  Once it was apparent that these fortune seekers were in way over their heads, they were required by Canada to take with them on their journey, a list of supplies to help insure their longevity that totaled approximately 1 ton.  Each miner to be, had to transport 2,000 lbs. with them, 500 miles to Dawson City, the hub of the gold fields.

Leaving Skagway, we headed to Whitehorse.  Our first mode of transport north was the Whitehorse Pass Railway, unfortunately it was not available at the time the miner’s headed that direction.  Like some of the narrow gauge railroads in the lower forty-eight, it followed mountain streams up to the lowest mountain pass.  Most miners chose a different path though.  The Chilkoot Pass.  It was shorter, but more vertical than the Whitehorse Pass.  Our train ride ended at the Canadian border, where we boarded our motor coach (bus) and continued onto Whitehorse.

A picture of a picture of the long haul up Chilkoot Pass.  Makes me want to
have been miner wannabe...NOT!

Heading up Whitehorse Pass.

Still heading up Whitehorse Pass.

The uphill side of the train.

Canadian Border

Rachel, our Holland America Cruise land tour guide, and our motor coach driver, Scott, got our things stowed away and we settled into our seats.  No more getting up and going to the buffet if you were hungry or slipping out the back of the railcar to snap a photo of the next train tunnel we would be passing through, our confines were becoming more confined.  But, with a few photo and potty stops along the way, we reached Whitehorse, a city of significant size over Skagway, where we checked into our hotel, again…owned by the cruise line, and then cruised the main drag of shops.  It was now becoming clear that we were getting farther and farther away from “civilization,” because things were getting more expensive.  With a half-day warm up on the bus this day, we had a full day of it coming next.

Once the miners cleared the pass with their ton of supplies (sometimes taking as many as 40 trips up and down the mountain), which seems miraculous in itself, they soon became boat builders, because the most efficient way to get to Dawson City was by river.  So while waiting for the Bennett Lake to “ice out” from winter, they tried to create something that would float them and their supplies to their destination. 

With everyone in hopefully comfortable clothing, we boarded our bus and once again headed north.  We traveled through what seemed like a big valley between mountain ranges toward Dawson City.  With anywhere between 30 minutes to a couple of hours between stops, our time on the bus was interspersed with narrative from Scott, who provided some history and a few bad jokes as the kilometers rolled by. 

Some of our stops north included Carcross (shortened from Caribou Crossing), which could just about fit on a couple of football fields side by side.   But as you leave town, there is a miniature “desert”…Carcross Desert.  Evidently this area use to be underwater at one time and now all this sand is exposed and so seemingly out of place, yet unique.  We stopped at Braeburn Lodge for a butt break.  Besides being an “oasis” in the middle of nowhere along the Klondike Highway, they make gigantic cinnamon rolls, of which this crotchety old Santa looking dude sells for 16 Canadian dollars a piece (good, but not that good!).  A number of photo stops/restroom breaks later, we arrived at Dawson City, although technically not a “city.” 

Just another view.

And another.

World's smallest desert.

A butt break.  The color comes from minerals and diatoms...look them up!

Another butt break overlooking the Yukon River.

A pile of cinnamon roll.

Braeburn Lodge...home to the pile of cinnamon roll.

Another pee stop.

Antlers adorn most things.

After checking into our hotel, owned by…you guessed it…we headed out for a quick dinner, a visit to Diamond Tooth Gertie’s saloon show, and ending with the Downtown Hotel, home of the Sour Toe Cocktail.  I won’t tell the whole story of the Sour Toe, but it involves a real toe, alcohol, and in this case…Stuart!  

Saloon girls doing their can-can and they did-did.

Stuart emerges intact after his brush with a
mummified toe in his drink.

That brings you up to date and to our last stop in Canada.  Of the tens of thousands of hopeful miners that made it to Dawson City, most of the gold was gone before they arrived.  If you were lucky enough to make it all the way, you now had to deal with the heartbreak of doing it all for not.  Tomorrow we fly to Fairbanks on our own chartered jet plane.  Thanks Canada, for letting us travel aboot your beauty...eh?

My Zen from the Klondike Highway:  When the Sturgis Motorcycle Rally comes up in conversation, as it occasionally does, I tell those that have not been, that everyone needs to experience it at least once.  The vast open space that we have experienced on our trip here in the Yukon is in that same vein.  It is hard to appreciate its vastness.  But stuck on a motor coach, going 90 kph or about 50 mph, for 9 hours or so, you get a small sense of scale to it’s vastness as you stare out the window in awe.  It’s beautiful, it’s barren, it’s daunting, and it’s tantalizing.  For brief moments I can almost pretend to understand the draw for some folks to find their way here and carve out a life of sorts.  Me…I’m good where I’m at.