It's the beauty that thrills me with wonder,
It's the stillness that fills me with peace. (Robert Service)
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| Worthington Glacier |
Alaska is called the Last Frontier. The Territory was bought from Russia in 1867 when its value was perceived to be low because the fur trade had hunted the sea otter to near extinction. When the deal was done, it is not known whether it crossed anyone's mind to consult the natives and the consequence has been much time spent straightening out this oversight. It became the 49th State of the USA in 1959.
The only indigenous Alaskans are various tribes of Indians and two tribes of Eskimo, the Inupik and Inupiat. The Indians live in the Aleutians, the central area and the southeast panhandle, the Eskimo in the west, northwest and far north. All the other inhabitants have chosen to be there, either the next two descendant generations of Pioneers or incomers. Fortunately this mixture of different races has produced a population of friendly and independent people. In fact, they are so insular that when they leave the state it is expressed as "going outside" and a belligerence towards Federal dominance is felt. Alaska will certainly appeal to you if you are looking for an outdoors and challenging holiday.
The highlight of one of my holidays was a visit to both an Indian village at Fort Yukon and an Eskimo settlement in the Anaktuvuk Pass. They are inaccessible by road in summer so there is no practicable alternative but to fly in. This has certainly built up business for tour companies at Fairbanks who are only too happy to sell you a tour that will take you over the White Mountains to Fort Yukon or through the Brooks Range to the North Slope.
Alaska is not contiguous with the other forty-nine States. Its mainland was formed by the conjunction of tectonic plates. Now, I'm not well up on this, but basically, the upthrust rock produced both the Alaska Range and the Brooks Range of mountains. Both span the State west to east and divide it into three discernable climatic sectors; the coastal, interior and far north. In addition there is the maritime southeast panhandle and the volcanic Aleutian Island chain. I haven't visited either of those. Both have rather more moist and changeable weather than the mainland. The Alaska Range is a continuation of the Rockies and contains North America's highest mountain, Mount McKinley, known to the Indians as Denali, the Great One, and so it is at 20,230 feet with a face range of 18,000 feet. It is a mountaineering challenge on a par with Everest and collects a queue of climbers and its crop of casualties every year. Also, there are other mountains nearly as comparable. The present day Alaska was formed at the end of the last ice age. Rivers formed by glacial melt were enormous torrents that filled the miles wide glaciated valleys. As the ice cap receded, so the flow decreased until today the residual flow forms braided channels through and criss-crossing the old river beds. This phenomenon created gravel bars which, together with glacially formed lakes, provided access for bush planes to fly in prospectors, hunters, naturalists, etc. before prepared airstrips where available. Mining opened the country up and the evidence is frequent. Now airstrips are everywhere but all means are still used. It is also quite common for bush planes to deliver and collect from mountaintops and saddles. A major geographical feature, which divides the State, is the broad Yukon River. Rising in Canada, it meanders across thousands of miles from east to west, emerging eventually on the Bering Sea. The only crossing is on the Dalton Highway (the oil haul road to the North Slope) 100 miles north of Fairbanks. It was a main artery for the gold rushes and still carries by barge some heavy traffic that can't be flown in.
The State spans latitudes 60 degrees to 70 degrees north, roughly the same as Norway, but from the tip of the Aleutians to the maritime panhandle in the southeast, is the equivalent of California to Florida! The far North gets 36 days of continuous daylight in summer and pays for it in winter. Even in Anchorage in early August, it hardly goes dark. The climate then is generally warm and dry, if sometimes overcast. Periodic frontal systems off the north Pacific produce rain, especially in the coastal mountainous areas. Fairbanks though, in the interior, is technically a desert with only 16" of rain a year. Valdez, nestling in Prince William Sound, a fjord, gets 30' of snow routinely in winter and 45' exceptionally. There, on one occasion, I've seen four different weather phenomena simultaneously but had wonderful weather another time. The glaciers produce their own microclimate and the calved bergs float out to sea. None of it bothers the sea lions, sea otters, bald eagles or the puffins. It's a land of great contrasts. Don't forget your bad weather gear but bring your shorts, tee shirts and swimming kit also.
Only the south and central areas have a highway system. There are eight of them and one of those is fragmented. The Alaska Highway from the lower 48 through Canada connects at Tok Junction and Delta. All the main centres of population are connected up except the southeast panhandle which happens to contain the capital, Juneau. Like the Interior and the Aleutian Islands, it is only accessible by boat or plane! Only 600,000 people live in the State altogether; about the current population of Liverpool. Roughly 1/4 million are centred on and around Anchorage and most others on Fairbanks with a few thousand in each of Seward, Homer, Palmer, Delta, Wassilla, Valdez, the southeast and down the Aleutian chain. The remainder is distributed in penny packets around numerous settlements and rural villages in the Interior. Access beyond the highway system is by plane or boat in summer, dog sled, snow machine, tractor or skiplane in winter. It results in self-reliance and some very innovative solutions to problems. For instance, how do the rural villages get their heating oil, diesel and gasoline? At Fairbanks airport there is a company called Evert Flying Fuel Services, which flies converted airliners and delivers by flying filling station. The aircraft's windows have been blanked off and fitted with hose reel and nozzle dispensing kit. When the plane arrives at the local airstrip, out come the pick-up trucks (fitted with 250 gallon tanks in the back as they all are) to meet the aircraft. The choice is yours; just pull up at the correct window. How did the pick-ups get there? By barge or air, usually a DC6.
There are two ways we Europeans can tour Alaska practically. One is by cruise ship out of the Pacific Northwest up the Inside Passage of the southeast panhandle, then, maybe to Seward, Homer or Valdez. An excursion from there will take you either by bus or (slow) train on to Anchorage, Denali Park and Fairbanks. You will see the panhandle but will only scratch the surface of the mainland except Denali Park. These cruises can be pricey. The other way is to fly into Anchorage and tour by road and air. If you are comfortable driving on the wrong side of the road, this can be done independently. I don't rate the former way but then I don't like masses of people on holiday. They say that the real Alaska begins where the road ends. This is true but there are ways around that, as I'll explain later.
Bed and breakfast accommodations (slipping into the vernacular) are plentiful and usually of high standard if not particularly cheap. Campgrounds abound and camping is easy but perhaps not for everyone. Renting an RV (motor home) is still something of an American preserve. Most are bigger than the norm in Europe. I have rented a car and relied on B & Bs and motels and not come unstuck yet. You also meet interesting people. The car, I book in England with the office of one of the majors, to be collected at Anchorage. Sometimes you need to plan your refuelling, such are the distances. Gasoline was $1.55 to $1.90 a US gallon in 2000 depending on where you where. The cars have been C grade 2 to 3 litre automatic saloons and done about 30 mpg (25mpUSg). It is easy to do 2 to 3000 miles a fortnight at a fuel cost of $100-$150. That's about 30p/litre, Mr Blair! There have been no direct flights to Anchorage since 1992 when increased range and the opening of some Russian airspace no longer required a stopover on the way to Japan. You have to route through Seattle, Chicago or Minneapolis/St. Paul. There are alternatives such as Amsterdam, Copenhagen or Düsseldorf. From there, it is only 8½ hours over the Pole. You arrive before you take off! It's simple.
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| Long Stay Airplane Park |
It is tempting to make Anchorage an initial base for exploring the Kenai peninsular, being nine hours behind and so on. This is a mistake. Although distances are usually considerable and travelling needs to be minimized, there is plenty to see and places to stay in the vicinity, whilst acclimatizing. About fifty miles to the southeast, on scenic Turnagain Arm (Capt. Cook frustrated again in his search for a Northwest Passage) there is Alyeska resort for skiing and backcountry hiking and Portage Glacier and lake for viewing. Seward and Homer are ports on picturesque fiords offering big game fishing, halibut that hang as tall as you stand and big salmon. We saw a superpod of Orcas at Seward in Resurrection Bay. That is when several pods get together to give the lads and lasses from different pods a chance and the species generally to mix its genetic inheritance. The Russian legacy can be seen at Kenai itself where there is an original wooden church with onion dome.
Starting about fifty miles north of Anchorage is the Matanuska-Susitna valley. Two decades ago this was still considered The Frontier. Nowadays that must be north of Fairbanks. Mat-su is a fertile agricultural area, settled in the '30s with FDR and Federal help by depression hit farmers. Surprised? Because of the long and warm days, all temperate crops are possible in the short season. The vegetables grow to be enormous.
Halfway towards Denali Park, on a spur from the George Parks Highway, is Talkeetna. Once it was only a stop on the Alaska Railroad for mining activities in the Peters Hills. From here climbing expeditions depart for Mount McKinley (Denali) and a glacier landing at base camp. "Fly an hour or walk a week" is still valid. Flightseeing is abundant from four operators. I'm seasoned but flying up the Ruth glacier for a landing that wasn't possible owing to whiteout conditions gave me a thrill. "Beautiful" downtown Talkeetna is a typical rural village, worth a look before it is turned into an activity resort. Rafting and kayaking is on the up. Fly-in hunting and fishing has long been available.
The land is fragile, recovers slowly, and large areas are needed to support wildlife. You need to get off the highway and away from civilization to see the wildlife with any certainty. Denali National Park and Preserve is the place and is carefully controlled. Vehicles are banned 15 miles in for most of the season. The Park Ranger Service runs shuttle buses into the Park on trips lasting all day, at least. The Eielson Visitor Centre is 66 miles in; Kantishna and Wonder Lake, 91 miles in. You can get off anywhere and then flag another bus. Prior booking with the Visitor Centre at the Park entrance is essential. You may see grizzly and black bear, porcupine, caribou, wolf, Dall sheep, ptarmigan, fox. The shout then is, "Stop the bus!" Camping and backpacking are permitted, even encouraged in limited numbers. To the southwest, Denali, the Great One, which creates its own weather, might even unveil itself.
Between Denali and Fairbanks is the small town of Nenana; (Ne-nar-naw not banana) on the south bank of the Tanana River (Ta-nar-naw). It was a terminus of the AK RR before the railroad was pushed through to Fairbanks. The RR has an interesting museum at the old depôt (station). Large tugs are hauled out onto massive slipways each freeze-up. Each spring a lottery is run on the time of break-up. A steel structure is placed on the frozen river with a rope connected to a bell tower ashore. We found the best ever Mississippi mud pie on sale there.
Fairbanks is rapidly developing a cosmopolitan look. When we first went there, it looked decidedly frontier. Downtown shacks are now being replaced by modern buildings to make a typical city centre; consequently it's loosing its frontier feel. Various tourist traps have sprung up; Alaskaland etc. The University has an intriguing museum up on the campus covering all the native cultures. It's worth half a day. Gold dredges can be visited and gold panning is a thing. You get to keep any gold you find. There are four places to visit north of Fairbanks, Manley Hot Springs on the Tanana River, The Dalton Highway to the north slope, Circle and Circle Hot Springs and Chena Hot Springs up in the hills. No shortage of warm swimming you see. The road to the north opened all the way for tourists in 1999. It's a thousand-mile round trip, mostly dirt. You still can't get to the Arctic Ocean without joining a tour at Deadhorse because the oil companies block free access over the last seven miles through Prudoe Bay oilfield. I've driven to Circle, an untouched Athabascan village on the banks of the Yukon River with a genuine Trading Post and to Circle Hot Springs for the sulphurous dip and the sight. It's a 330 mile one day outing from Fairbanks. One Disneyesque trip worth doing nevertheless is the Steamboat Discovery on the Chena (Sheena) and Tanana Rivers from Fairbanks. This is a resurrected shallow draught paddle steamer and gives you a good look at outback life, fish camps, dog sledding and the river's geology. The trip includes a landing at an Athabascan village with talks and demonstrations by Indians and Eskimo of their culture. Don't forget, fur garments are PC in this country. It's all very popular with the Tours.
There are villages all over the bush like this one. Travellers determined to see the Indians or the Eskimo in the real should take one of the tour flights from Fairbanks mentioned earlier. However, it's not cheap. We visited Fort Yukon one evening, on the Arctic Circle about 150 miles northeast of Fairbanks, flying by Piper Navajo over the White Mountains. The evenings remain light. Four aircraft went together. This is no longer a wooden walled fort of Hudson's Bay trading days but a collection of houses on stilts. Our guide was very open, friendly and self-assured as he drove us about the village in their recently acquired refurbished bus. It had been barged up the Yukon that summer. He took us to the landing place to gaze into the vastness of the Yukon. His brother arrived from a down river fish camp. We inspected his fish wheel and listened to details of the salmon disaster that year. Driving past the cemetery, he told us that all his recent ancestors where there, good as the day they died, seven foot down in the permafrost, just like a deep freeze. They didn't bother burying their dead until the missionaries came, leaving them out on the tundra or cremating them. These people are at home in their own environment and I detected some impatience with whitefaces' ways that I was to hear again. Still, some things were good and their firemen were away in the lower 48 fighting rampaging forest fires where they couldn't get used to the dark evenings!
Another day and another flight by Beech 1900 turboprop took us breathtakingly through the John River valley, below cloud enshrouded peaks, to land at Anaktuvuk Pass. This is an Eskimo settlement on the north side of the Brooks Range, well north of the Arctic Circle. It was a nomadic encampment astride one of the main caribou migratory routes until 1947. Then the Inupiat were persuaded by the whitefaces to make it permanent, so they could trade for their furs. The Eskimo still rely on the caribou herds for subsistence living but are a little bothered by the PhDs from the Fish and Game Commission. They come and tell them to unlearn 2500 years of experience of managing the herd and try it their way. The Eskimo are cautious and frugal in their taking of the caribou. Everything found to be healthy is used. Meat, skins, bones, even the antlers are sliced to make good buttons. An interesting and smart village museum depicts the previous way of life for these now settled nomads. The curator, Vera Weber, an Inupiat, can point to her nomadic grandfather in the exhibited photographs. Now the men can have only one wife. Some women prefer the bright lights and the cash economy whilst the men prefer hunting and fishing in the settlements. This is leading to a new phenomenon, divorce! Anaktuvuk with a population of only 350 sustains two small airline flights a day from Fairbanks, 250 miles to the south, as well as numerous air taxis. Explain that to me, please. The Eskimo have a delightful outlook, very much in harmony with their land but are rather careless of their material possessions.
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| Dawson City |
Arrival at the Yukon changes the mood. The summer ferry is free - so is the ice road in winter but then the road to Alaska is shut. During freeze-up and break-up there is nothing. Now, we are in the middle of the continent. In August, the days are warm, the evenings cool, but the nights are chilly. Dawson, on the bank of the Yukon hasn't changed much since the gold rush. Dirt streets are retained. The pavements are boardwalks. The buildings are clapboard. It's brash. The 1898 honky-tonk lives on at Diamond Gertie's Gambling Hall or The Gaslight Follies in the Palace Grand Theatre. Jack London and Robert Service both lived here. Readings are held in their cabins twice a day. The Visitor Reception Centre is very helpful in finding accommodations. 2000 feet above Dawson is the midnight dome up which you can drive. The landscape revealed raises a lump in my throat. Below, the town sits on an alluvial shelf at the confluence of the Klondike and Yukon Rivers. The puce of the Klondike and the buff of the Yukon avoid intermixing as they stream past the town. An historic paddle steamer sits, high and dry, on the river's bank. The occasional canoeist paddles by going downstream. The ferry plies back and forth. The mining companies want to move and later reinstate the town. Sacrilege. To the south, in the distance, is Bonanza Creek, where it all started. When the stampeders depart, the mining companies move in, buy up the claims and put in large dredges. These power hungry barges sit in a pond of their own making. They need a small hydroelectric plant and enough water for a small town to satisfy them. Steam is injected into the ground to thaw out the permafrost. A large chain of dredge buckets extracts the earth, which is riddled and washed to recover the gold. Wastewater is sluiced out the back into the pond and the tailings are dumped behind via a conveyor to form a characteristic landscape. A lot of these workings are played out and the dredges are either abandoned to dry out, or set up for visitors. Dredge #4 sits beached in Bonanza Creek awaiting you.
From Dawson, you can either continue to Whitehorse, about 340 miles down the Klondike Highway, or you can retrace your steps. We chose the latter. At 450 miles, it was one of the longest drives of the trip. Reaching Boundary, the consequences of leaving the US without a full visa may overtake you - or you may be simply let off. I have a full visa; my wife doesn't; the car had an Alaskan plate. It was just enough to avoid prison. We didn't know it until we tried the tourist office at Glenallen, but our next destination turned out to be Copper Centre, on the Copper River. Here the Klondikers coming over the Klutina (Klut'na) Glacier from Valdez first encountered the Athabascan Indians, who turned them back. There was no stopping the stampeders however, and Copper Centre became established as a stopover en-route to the Klondike and mining centre it its own right. The historic roadhouse is sited at the junction of the Klutina River with the Copper River. Both flow past furiously carrying their glacial silt, which gives them that characteristic luminescent colouring. A log cabin contains a local museum.
Whilst in Fairbanks, we had heard about an abandoned copper mine called Kennicott, its adjacent town called McCarthy in the Wrangell-St.Elias mountains and its only access by an aerial ropeway. This was too interesting. We decided to include a visit. Chitina (Chit'na) is 25 paved miles from the Richardson Highway. Here the Athabascans traditionally set up their summer fish camps. Their fish wheels can be seen along the Copper River. McCarthy lies 60 unpaved miles beyond Chitina. The road in, is part of the old railroad bed to the mine, abandoned since 1938. This railroad was an incredible piece of engineering. Built to service the mine only, it ran from Cordova on the coast, 196 miles to Kennicott, along the banks of the Copper and Chitina Rivers. Half of it was built on timber trestles, most of it now collapsing. The rails, dated 1905, lay tossed to one side of the road but still useful. The final railroad bridge has long been washed out by the sudden torrent from an ice-dammed lake, which bursts out every summer. So you got access by a "tram" suspended over the river and then by a wobbly plank bridge over a tributary. The "tram" was, in fact, a small open cable car with two bench seats facing each other. You propelled yourself by pulling on a suspended rope unless the next users were willing to help out. Looking down was giddying as the glacial waters rushed under at close quarters. Unfortunately, by 2000, a long steel footbridge replaced this experience and the visitor count had increased correspondingly. In fact this whole wilderness area is a climbing and backpackers' paradise. The options are many. The scenery is awesome. (But not like the American, ooresome.)
McCarthy is better than a film prop for a western. It's utterly turn-of-the-century genuine. You can stay at Ma Johnson's Lodge or up at Kennicott Lodge. Otherwise it's B&B cabins or camping. At the airstrip, as almost everywhere, two outfits offer flightseeing, fly-in hunting, fishing or walking/climbing trips. Shuttle buses run up to Kennicott. Here, at the turn of the century, a massive copper lode was "discovered". The Indians pointed it out. London financed winning it and the railroad was necessary. Something like $200 million at historic values was removed until a pre-war slump in copper prices hit and the mine was shut overnight. It was left just as it was when activity finished. Even the tools are lying around. Snow weight has damaged the buildings over the years but they are now being "preserved". As with Talkeetna, this area can't last as it is. It's too good. We've been there twice, seven years apart, and the difference in every aspect was marked. It is still very much "the bush" but also a future outdoor playground.
After that, what is left? Well, Valdez beckons and is no anti-climax. Three hours drive from McCarthy and you reach the Richardson Highway again and civilization! Turn left for Valdez. En-route take in the Worthington Glacier as you pass by. It's in full view of the Highway. At Thompson Pass is a view not to be missed. It is also where the World Extreme Skiing Championships are held. From here to Valdez, the winter's snowfall is extreme. Mountains of the luvverly fluffy stuff, so you can ski vertically with a moderate chance of getting away with it. After that the road passes through a gorge, which was only discovered in 1900, by Klondikers looking for a way of avoiding the Klutina Glacier. It was the scene of a shoot-out between rival gangs of railroad builders. The Valdez to Copper Centre railway never got built but its vestigial tunnel remains. In the gorge the road is carried along and over the river for a short distance on stilts. Looking left and right you see several exquisite waterfalls, the bride's veil, the mare's tail and so on, some not named. Dall sheep inhabit the mountainside. These are really big brutes with equally big curly horns; looking more like mountain goats.
Arriving in Valdez, first you pass by the site of the old town, flattened by the 1964 earthquake. It was a Tsunami really. People are creeping back as though nothing ever happened. The new town is sited strategically behind a hill, which will take the brunt of any future "tidal" wave. Valdez is at the head of Prince William Sound. An ice free port and so chosen as the marine terminal for the Alyeska pipeline that carries crude oil 800 miles from the North Slope for shipping to the Lower 48 and abroad. Otherwise, it's sport fishing, fish canning and tourism. You will never see so many salmon in one place in all your life as around the hatchery. Billions return to their birthplace to spawn and die. They are everywhere. Boat trips down the Sound are all-day affairs with catering. The Columbia Glacier is a main attraction although you cannot get close now because (like many others) this one is receding, but you do get amongst the calved bergs, growlers and brash. Take your anorak! Whales, sea otter and wildlife abound. Seemingly every second tree has its resident sea eagle. It's a long time since the Exxon Valdez went aground but the effects linger, especially in conversation. A stop off for dinner at Growler Island allows you to stroll on the beach amid stranded bergy bits. You can camp or cabin overnight there also. Real wilderness stuff.
From here, we returned to Anchorage. Our time was up. The short way is via the Alaska Marine Highway; a euphemism for the ferries which link up towns when the highway doesn't. Unfortunately, in summer, they are all booked up weeks in advance and are expensive. Only $20 of gas and you can drive the 350 miles easily in a day. The journey by the Richardson Highway to Glenallen and then along the Glen Highway to Palmer, is another scenic wonder. We've not had time to explore off the main road but I'm sure there is plenty to find.
By Palmer, you are back in the breadbasket. Life speeds up. Traffic on the final fifty miles into Anchorage is like the M1 in the 1960s. The Americans seem to build these roads before they need them. Everyone drives steadily; well separated; stick to their lane; no tailgating. The Chugach Mountains to your left form a permanent backdrop. It must be a surreptitious drug.
Anchorage is a slight shock. A different breed staffs the motels. Nothing to do with the spirit of the Last Frontier. The hotels are relatively expensive and expansive. But nothing spoils the aura and the ache for another visit. We will be back.
First published in VISA issues 39-40 (winter 2000 / spring 2001)
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