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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.
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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
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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?
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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..
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