roadtrippin!

Home!

2006-07-19T02:17:00Z

After a marathon push to get home, I'm here. And tired. And sweating.
5 or 6 days ago I was shivering in the 35 degree weather at Point Barrow and now its 95 with high humidity.

What a freakin trip.. unbelievable.

Check back in the upcoming weeks for all the pictures/journal/other misc trip information.
Thanks to everyone who've been interested!

Heading home

2006-07-15T18:53:00Z

Be home in about 4 or 5 days.

Top of the Continent

2006-07-13T18:25:00Z

We fly to Barrow in a Piper Chieftain, a twin prop, 8 passenger plane with dual GPS avionics up front.
Just outside of Fairbanks at around 1000 feet (clear weather so we fly low to see stuff), we in the true interior. No roads, and as Gary our pilot puts it, you're now IN the foodchain. The muskeg below would be hell to traverse but the burnt boreal forest is interspersed with colorful Fireweed. It looks like someone took a paintbrush of purple, green, and black and made random strokes on the taiga. The area around Fairbanks has been subject to numerous lightning induced forest fires for the past few years. The haze on the horizon is in fact due to some burning west of the city.

A stop in Coldfoot to refuel the plane and we're off over the Brooks Range. Normally the weather over these mountains is poor enough to force transport down into the valleys, but blue skies and sun await us. We get a 7500 foot view of this massive, beautiful, and virtually untouched range that extends for 200 miles in each direction.

After 30 minutes or so we start descending. The peaks taper off to foothills, and then we are flying low over the most massive expanse of Flatness I have ever seen: The North Slope. Covered in small ponds and streams, we swoop over only 500 feet off the deck. The clouds above forcing us down. If we pop up through them, we won't be able to descend into Barrow - this flight is visual only, and we can't change to a IFR flight plan despite the $50,000 in avionics onboard.

About 50 miles outside Barrow, we have to pull up through the clouds. They've pushed us down to 300 feet and we just can't go lower. A minutes traverse through nothing but whiteness and we're in blue sky. Gary gives us the option of pushing on to Barrow in the hope that a small clearing will form.

The road trip gods smile on me again, and as we approach where Barrow should be, I hear the hydraulic acuators lower the flaps. We're landing. Gary banks hard into an opening that I didn't even see until now and swoops along the coast. The ice pack is still holding a hundred yards offshore. A massive sheet of white with blue schards pushed up periodically. We land and climb into a van.

The van takes us to Point Barrow, the northernmost point of North America, and then around this Eskimo town. Thanks to well managed oil money, this town has running water, a bus system, 8 cops, courts, supermarkets, everything. In a place where complete darkness occurs for 2 months of the year.

We stop in at the cultural center, watch a presentation of Eskimo dancing and singing, and then head back to the plane. 3 hours later we arrive back in Fairbanks. I step off the plane actually glad that things didn't work out with the van ride up to Prudhoe Bay.

Those are some fair looking banks over there

2006-07-11T21:18:00Z

The past couple days have, as indicated in my last entry, been spent hanging around Fairbanks. I've checked out the University of Alaska Fairbanks Museum of the North, driven outside of town to check out an Alyeska Pipeline viewing station, caught a movie, gone to the northernmost Walmart in North America, done a lot of reading, spent some time getting to know Fairbankians, and in general, relaxed.

I bought a pipe and some tobacco at a smoke shop near UAF and have spent a considerable amount of time sitting back, feet up, pipe in mouth, book in hand, next to a river, reading. Beyond that, nothing too interesting to report here.

Imagine that, relaxation on a vacation.

Tomorrow morning at 7am my twin engine, prop plane departs for Barrow. If the weather is reasonably clear I should get some decent views of the Brooks Range and Gates of the Arctic NP.

In the Interior

2006-07-10T02:07:00Z

Arrived in Fairbanks, hit a snag with transportation up to the Arctic Ocean. Looks like I won't be able to drive it after all. Taking a plane up to Barrow on Wednesday morning instead. I'll be spending the next two days trying to find things to do in Fairbanks and surrounding areas.

Back Country Unit #7

2006-07-09T01:32:00Z

Yesterday at 9am I found myself once again on the bumpy dirt road headed into the park. Unit 7 is located on the eastern side of Polychrome Pass. The East Fork of the Tolkat stretches off across the valley to its headwaters, a glacier, in the Alaska Range near Mt. Pendleton.

The bus driver stops, I grab my pack, say goodbye to the fellow hikers I've been talking to and deboard. The bus struggles up the next hill and is soon out of sight.

After sliding down the road embankment, I head off, following the river. In some spots I encounter cut bank and am forced into the willow and all the covered slopes. After the first water crossing, my boots are wet. I don't intend to make this a killer hike, so after four miles I find a nice tundra spot and set up camp. The rest of the day is spent reading, dayhiking farther up the valley and on some of the surrounding hills, and general relaxation. After dinner, I read myself to sleep to the sounds of the river.

Today's return is more of the same until I get about a half mile from the road. During the night the river either went up or changed course, and the gravel wash that I used in this trailless wildnerness to get out is now a tumbling river. I probe a crossing nearby to find that the channel is nearly four feet deep with glacier cold fast moving water. After backtracking a quarter mile, I find a suitable spot, well braided and above the confluence of a tributary. After sloshing through a few main channels of frigid knee-deep waters, I am headed up the other side of the river, and soon waiting for a bus to come.

A hot shower and laundry at the Riley Creek Mercantile and the rest of the day is spent reading at my campsite. Tomorrow I head north toward Fairbanks (did you know that a significant number of Fairbanks residents use outhouses during the winter- the cold freezes all pipes).

McKinley Shows Her Peaks (XXX)

2006-07-07T03:11:00Z

Yesterday:
Rested and recovered from Kesugi. Explored the entrance area of Denali National Park, watched a couple of videos in the Wilderness Access Center and the Visitor's Center, walked through the museum, played with some more sled dogs (!!!) and read.

Today:
I joined the throngs of tourists on a park bus to Fish Creek, an eight hour round trip. The road turns to gravel after you cross the "No More Cars" sign and climbs above the tree line. Polychrome Pass is the first substantial, monster view of the Alaska range across a huge valley of braided rivers. It was refreshing to be in the relative comfort of the bus, free to gawk at the scenery rather than drive.

Continuing on, the road leads along the rim of this massive valley for another fifty miles. Near the end of our run, a colossal piece of rock begins to fill the sky. Sam, our driver, matter-of-factly says, "...and the mountain is coming out." Over the next fifteen minutes the clouds, in a veritable cinematic sequence, shed away from the mountain and part to a blue background. There she was, totally dominating the entire landscape, twin peaks and all, Mount McKinley.

The people on the bus are more interested in getting back to see the blonde grizzly and her cubs, so we depart. As we leave, the clouds start obscuring the flanks and the last view I see of the mountain shows only a sliver of the summit. I swear someone or something has my back on this trip.

Tomorrow I'll venture off into the trailless wilderness of Denali, to share my sector (about the size of a county in CT) with three other people.

A Thirty Mile Hike

2006-07-05T16:01:00Z

After getting a bear resistant container at the park information center, loading up my frame pack with three day's worth of provisions, I headed out on a thirty mile trek. At first the trail climbs through broadleaf plants, tall grasses, and alder thickets- I was yelling "Hey Bear!" the whole time. After an hour or two, I came to a scree slope and after topping that was laid out into vast open tundra. To my right, the Alaska range was in full specter, its jagged snow-capped peaks reflecting a bluish hue. If you can picture in your head what an ideal Alaskan hike would be, this ridge is it. I continued on for about eight miles and then set up camp. At 9pm on an open plain, I had no shade from the glaring sun. A night of tossing and turning ends with me finally getting up at 3:30am. The sun is just starting to rise.

Thirty miles with a 40 mile pack is...a lot. But what is also difficult about it, is that unless you force yourself to be idle for hours on end, you can do it in two days. So, as Ray would know, I did it in two days. So yesterday I pushed on through early morning showers, watched sections of the ridge ahead and behind me go into white out, and caught a quick glimpse of Denali bathed in a brilliant orange from a sun that I couldn't even see. After a few hours, I encountered a descent back to the tree line. Here I was treated to swarms of mosquitoes (no, literally, a black swarm of mosquitoes that lay and wait on the trail), shin-deep and unavoidable mud, river fordings, and hundreds of repeats of "Hey Bear!" By the time I started gaining altitude out of the valley, I was feeling it. My feet hurt, my knees hurt, and my shoulders hurt. But in all my genius I still had another eight miles to go. Clouds moved in and drew the magnificent view to my right closed and I mushed on. Finally, in a fit of elation at finding the right trail, I encountered a junction that means I'm four miles from the trail head. A hellish descent (over 1500 ft in less than 1.5 miles) down muddy and slippery slopes, followed by a gentler down, across a very, very swingy suspension bridge (with one wire railing gone), and I'm at the trail head.

I meet up with some Boy Scouts from San Diego, who aside from offering me water (I was totally out and very thirsty) also offered to give me a ride back to my car, which was 20 miles away. This was a one-way route, and i wasn't looking forward to hitchhiking with a full muddy pack.

I head north now into Denali National Park proper to spend a few days.

Single coolest thing I have ever done

2006-07-03T00:50:00Z

..is flying hundreds of feet over the ice ridges and valleys of the Brooks range in a De Haviland 7 seater, clouds situated perfectly to offer a sense of speed and depth, Mt. Mckinley standing over the entire time. It was like in a dream, flying amazingly close to rock outcroppings and peaks and hanging glaciers and ice falls. The broken surface of the glaciers below tinged with the most perfect blue. Completely, and utterly unbelievable.

Talkeetna is the jump off point for several flightseeing tours. For $300 bucks, from Talkeetna Air Taxi, you get 2 hours in the mountians including a 30 minute, get this, glacier landing. I arrived here late yesterday afternoon and have been biding time until the weather and seat became attractive.

Yesterday I headed north from Homer, pausing in Anchorage at the Moose's Tooth brewery and pizzeria. After bottoming-up a couple porters, a stout, and a 10.8% dark (and waiting in the car for an hour or so) I exited the city. Anchorage had the potential, at least in my mind, to be a "cool" city, something along the lines of Fort Collins, CO or something. But it's not.. being closer to Hartford than anything in Colorado. Except for losing the only FM stations I've had in a week, I was glad to get moving.

My next and only interim stop was at the Iditarod Headquarters. Here, the Reddington family (of whom the patriach founded the race) has a small musuem with information about the race and the dogs. A few minutes spent there, and the realy appeal was off yipping 50 yards away. For 10 bucks you can get a 30 second wheeled sled ride. While a sled ride didn't really do it for me, spending 45 minutes playing with each and every dog on the team did. Maybe for a second career I'll move up here and raise a team of dogs.

Tomorrow I'll move further up north and head out into the backcountry of Denali. I've got a route planned that will take me along Kesugi Ridge, and should be out 2-3 days. If the weather holds, I should have excellent views of the mountain. Until the next time I can get wireless access..

Chillin in Homer

2006-07-01T15:40:00Z

Spent yesterday morning taking care of some household items, shower, laundry, post office. Then spent the rest of the day browsing the Homer Spit (4 mile pier - look at google maps), walking the black sand beach, playing cards, and reading.

Today I'm headed up Anchorage way to get the oil changed and then move north towards Denali and Talkeetna. For the next few days I'll be in a holding pattern waiting for good weather over Denali to take a flightseeing trip. I ponied up the extra 70 bucks to get a glacier landing out of it too.

Bears, ice fields, sea kayaks, and calving glaciers - the Kenai Peninsula

2006-06-30T19:20:00Z

I wonder, how to capture 3 incredible days in a short blog entry. Its far beyond words as it is, but then to attempt to transmit it.. I may as well try in a foreign language. This is a long entry, covering a lot of going-ons. Some exerpts are from my journal.

Three days ago I began my exploration of Alaska on the Kenai Peninsula. Accessed via the Seward highway, south of Anchorage, this piece of land about the size of Connecticut is covered with the snow capped Chugach mountains, expansive valleys, and deep fjords. Arising at 7am, I meander down into the town of Seward and begin my ascent to the Harding Ice Field (largest in North America). It's a solid hike, about 8 or 9 miles round trip, gaining 3500 feet in 4 miles. The weather is perfect. Blue skies, only a few high level clouds.

About a mile in I come across a couple and their small child stopped in the middle of the trail. As I approach the woman says smiling “We’re waiting here ‘cause there’s a bear.” She points into a tree about 15 yards away, and sure enough a smallish black bear is hanging out. With three pesky humans now encroaching on its personal space, its shimmys down the tree (with amazing speed.. don’t even think of out climbing one of these things), looks at us, and then starts walking up the trail. The new problem becomes that he’s following the same trail we are. So for the next 20 minutes or so, it’s a lot of yelling (with the couple and there child staying conspicuously behind me) and staying aware. A few times I spot him and he goes off into the brush. All well in good, not even 20 minutes in the Alaskan woods and I’ve come across a bear.

The canopy breaks up and stands of trees are replaced with bushes and grass. Shortly after breakin extremely broken sheet of ice. The deep and nearly constant crevasses extend perpendicular to the flow as it moves over uneven ground. Spotted here and there are small pools of melted snow reflecting a bright blue hue. Also mixed in with the snowcapped mountains to my left and right, the dramatic glacier to my left, the huge gravel wash far below me to my rear, is a mother black bear and three cubs about 10 feet in front of me on the trail.

The bear sees me, as I’m close enough to look into its eyes. My first reaction is to back away and give it space. Before that response expresses itself, I override it with how one is supposed to react in this circumstance. I put my hands above my head waving, and tell the bear to go home in a firm, loud voice. She doesn’t seem to honestly care. Just ambling toward me, with those friggin cute cubs in tow, not being the least bit disturbed by my presence. Finally, after closing a few more feet, after I’d already withdrawn the bear spray and popped of the safety, she goes into the bush near the trail. I swear she gives me a pissed off look as she does this, like, “what the hell, I was here first.” Her cubs on the other hand, don’t see any threat in me and keep approaching. The clamber off into the bush near their mother, but stay in that immediate area still creeping towards me. Climbing on bush stalks, rolling around. It’d be totally amazing if I wasn’t so close. At this point, a small crowd has gathered near me. I’m the “guy with the bear spray” and they stay behind me. After a minutes of footage and dozens of collective photos, the bears finally get far enough off the trail that I feel I can walk by without threatening the mother’s cubs. Some people don’t agree and go back to the trailhead. I now start yelling Hey Bear a little louder.

The trail leads totally out of the bushes and trees and eventually drops into a large snowfield. The path is sporadically marked with orange marking flags, but the path is clearly worn in the snow. It’s still early, but the trail is already slushy making uphill very slow going. An hour or so later and I find myself on a rock outcropping over looking an intensely massive sheet of ice cradled in between peaks as far as I can see.

Two days ago I drove into Whitter, Alaska. This odd little town is accesible via the longest auto tunnel in North America. Built by the US Army in 1942, the ice free port served as a back up to Seward. I'm here, not to hide from Japanese bombers, but rather to go on sea kayaking in Prince William Sound. The 6 mile trip takes me past waterfalls draining snowfields thousands of feet above me, 4 foot waves of milky green water, thousands of birds nesting on the cliff faces above me, and to the point, total submersion into this incredible environment.

One of the big items on my Alaska Checklist was getting to see a tidewater glacier (a glacier that terminates in the ocean) and with any luck, catch some calving (pieces of ice falling off). Prince William Sound, off which Whittier lays, has more tidewater glaciers than anywhere else in the world (another most, biggest, largest, etc etc). Yesterday I choose an operator and booked a seat on a 6 hour tour, promising 30 minutes of time dedicated to one highly active example, the Surprise Glacier. After passing through the largest (that word again) salmon hatchery in North America, looking at evidence from an earthquake over 40 years ago (Good Friday quake, again, the largest in North America), and hearing thunder like sonic crackling as pieces of ice from a glacier terminus one mile wide break off into ice choked water, I can check something off the list.

Right now, I'm sitting on a beach near Homer, Alaska. Layed out to my east are a range of yet more white capped, rugged peaks. The sun is still poking out (its 11pm here) and the broken cloud cover in the distance is twinged in blues and oranges. Only a few days into the meat of this trip, and I find myself once or so a day just laughing. It hasn't quite set in yet, that I'm making a trip through one gigantic fantastical nature painting.

Oh well.. I'm not quite on Alaska time yet, and this 11pm feels more like 3am. Hopefully another update from Anchorage in a day or two.

HFS! Alaska!

2006-06-26T21:06:00Z

Over 4000 miles. 84 hours. 14 hours of sleep.

The last 100 miles or so of the Alcan before Canada was a painful mix of dirt road or rough asphalt. And by rough I don't mean a pothole here or there. I mean 3-4 foot undulations. Once into Alaska, things smoothed out ok, and I drove to Tok before pulling over for the "night". No darkness, just perpetual twilight bright enough that I had to tie a bandana around my head to get to sleep.

The past 4 days are a blur in my memory, I'm unable to sift which days were which or connect places. What I do know is that is a very.. very...very.. long drive to Alaska. After crossing the state line I still had a drive equal to going to North Carolina left to my destination. As I sit now in a parking lot in Ancorage (Netstumbler <3) I still have several hours of driving left to Seward.

Over the next 4 or 5 days, I'll be exploring the Kenai pennisula. I anticpate a solid day hike to the Harding Ice Field and hopefully some sea kayaking. I also may not be able to make any updates for a few days, so be patient.

I'm here.. finally freakin' here

From the Alcan

2006-06-25T23:00:00Z

Greetings from Whitehorse, Yukon, Canada. Go ahead, take a look at the map and see where that is.

So the Alaskan Highway is.. long. No really it is.

I'm wondering as 400 km begins to sound like a short way to me, if anyone has ever died from driving too much. I don't mean slamming into a tree or something, I mean just too many miles and bam. At least the XM is still getting decent reception. I expect to lose that soon though.

After fueling up at Fort Nielson this morning, more and more snow covered mountains became visible. And then, the highway went into those mountains. The pass over Stone Mountain was incredible and this road, while way way way too long, is the best I have ever driven. Really.

I expect to get across the border tonight and stop somewhere around the "Delta Junction" or whatever this Milepost book is calling it. From there.. well.. tomorrow evening I will be at my destination of the Kenai Penninsula enjoying a long, hot shower. In addition to breaking mileage/day records, I'm also breaking personal longest-run-without-a-shower records. Now, aren't you glad you're not in the car with me?

I AM MACHINE

2006-06-25T01:26:00Z

OMFG what is that noise??

Apparently last night I parked my car about 50 feet from a rail line. A rail line that services those mile long trains you see out west. And as those trains go through towns, they lay on their horn. At 3:30 am.

Primary emotional responses are the responses that are programmed into us, at least according to this book I read that examined how humans respond to survival situations. Secondary emotional responses are those that are learned at an barely conscious level. These can be bad (e.g. recalling the high you got from riding your snowmobile up a steep hill and then causing an avalance the next time around) or good (e.g. not touch a hot stove).

New secondary emotional response: Pay f*cking attention at these weird intersections Canada has. 75 miles and hour and roads cross perpendicularly everywhere (no interstates). This morning I watched a car get broadsided at speed from about 50 feet away..

I think driving is like Zen meditation. Mindful concentration. Or maybe its just that I'm saturated.
Another 1000+ day and I'm not done yet (sitting in Dawson Creek, British Columbia.. gonna go look for that Katie Cruise chick soon. HA HA HA THEY HAVENT HEARD THAT ONE BEFORE). No really, Dawson Creek is that starting point of.. THE ALASKAN HIGHWAY.

I am machine. With another 4-5 hours sleep last night, that brings the total to around 8 hours. 3000 miles on 8 hours of sleep. It's all about managed sleep deprivation. Ingesting stimulants at the right time, sleeping at the right time. Its also all about managed bladder control. With this car getting 40mpg, the fuel up intervals are longer than the pee intervals. And like Ray and I hiking in the woods, once a destination is set.. there's no wavering.

Manitoba and most of Saskatchewan were very similar to Minnesota. Alberta has been like South Dakota or Eastern Montana except with a lot of trees. In the low light, all the green is awesome. Time for a photo op at Mile 0 of the Alcan and then its off for more driving.

O! Canada!

2006-06-24T11:36:00Z

It's sad that last night I woke up from a dream that I was driving.. and then started driving again.

Got back on the road around 7am and continued through Wisconsin, Minnesota, North Dakota, Manitoba, and now, Saskatchewan. Tomorrow morning I'll head toward Saskatoon, Saskatchewan. About an hour ago I started saying that over and over really fast and found it highly amusing. Yea so, 2100 miles in 37 hours with 4 hours of sleep. The Sun doesn't go down until around 10 in this area, apparently and after this entry I'll be finding some dark space to go to sleep.

Yawn

2006-06-23T06:37:00Z

It still surprises me just how easy it is to get in a car and then suddenly find yourself 1000 miles from home in a single day. My goal was to make it to the west side of Chicago, and I actually got as far as Wisconsin (sitting in a rest stop on the stateline now).

Hit some very dense rain in northern Ohio, but it was a nice sunset over the open fields that greet you in that state. Those fields are the first real marker of heading west. Nothing notable between the there and the billboards like runway lights that guide you through the Chicago sprawl.

Tomorrow I head north, through Wisconsin and Minnesota, the Dakotas and into Canada.

Off I go into the wild blue yonder

2006-06-22T11:48:00Z

I am sure going to having unfettered access to a hot shower for the next month.

Picked up the rental car this morning. Toyota Corolla with cruise and AC and 40mpg highway.
I've yet to get everything packed into it, but that should only take 15 or 20 minutes.
I'm hoping to get to the western side of Chicago before consciousness goes out on me.

Got a car.... Got some gas..