South-east to Jacksonville

Not everyone is in a hurry to go South

There are few places in the US that are further from Tok, Alaska than Jacksonville, Florida. But that's where our winter volunteer gig is, so that's where we are going. Certainly we could have started in Barrow, Alaska and headed for Key West, but the 4200 miles between Tok and Jacksonville seemed far enough. They certainly are about as geographically, and cultural different as you can get. That we knew. What we didn't know, and are just started to explore, is all the country in between. Aside from our brief stops in South Dakota, Wyoming and Idaho during our cross country drive from Massachusetts to Oregon we hadn't seen much of the 'interior.'

Unexpected Dangers!

All through the Yukon, and all of British Columbia until we crossed the Rocky Mountains, the country was much like Alaska. Tiaga, spruce, bogs, lakes and then in the Rockies, big pines. There were lots of the same animals too, buffalo, caribou, mountain sheep, moose, and bears. Lots of black bears, not a single grizzly.

Descending the East flank of the Rockies everything changed. The plains of Alberta are covered with gas wells, wheat fields and cows. Northern Montana was much the same, perhaps with a few less wells, and wheat but still rolling hills, far flung towns and cows.

It took us 6 days to drive the 2100 miles that marked the half-way point. We now had 6 weeks to drive the remaining 2100 miles, and we plan to take it slow and do some exploring.

Just hanging out in Wyoming

Southern Montana, along the Yellowstone River that the land began to change. Big mountain ranges rose off to the west and south. As we climbed up out of the valley, the land was still agricultural but the crop changed to something short with big, leaves. All we could think of was some type of mutant spinach, until we drove through Lovell, Wyoming and the sugar beet processing plant. Ah, Dave said "Sugar beets!"

We were in Lovell, not your usual tourist destination because Dave, who somehow has an uncanny knack for looking at a map picking good camping spots had noticed a big green blob labeled "Bighorn Canyon National Recreation Site". Lovell being the location of the site headquarters we were there to see about camping and hiking options.

Currently I'm typing all this up while seated outside the Creekside at Horseshoe Bend Campground. Below and to the South the waters of the southern end of Bighorn Canyon sparkle under a vast, baby blue sky. A mile to the west a solid red and white rock wall rises 2, maybe three thousand feet. Bees are buzzing around the late blooming purple asters and sunflowers. We are back in the high desert.

The Lockhart Ranch. If I were interested in ranching....

The majority of the canyon lies to the North. Yesterday we scouted out some hiking trails to take later today. Some wander along the canyon rim. (Bighorn Canyon is the third largest canyon in the US), and others wind up side canyons to old cow and dude ranches. It's been a great place to explore for a few days. The worst part of stumbling into places like this is knowing that eventually you have to leave.

Seasons of Alaska : Yet Another Thing to Love

Fall - Aspens in the valley, bearberry on the hills

There are many seasons in Alaska. Along with the usual spring, summer, fall, and winter there is also moose season, sheep season, salmon season, king salmon season, blueberry season, cranberry season, basket making season and probably a few others we haven't experienced yet.

As for the 'regular' seasons. Between our arrival on June 19th and our leaving, tomorrow, September 6th we've experienced the tail end of spring, all of summer and most of the fall. Condensing all of those into a little less than three months gives a good idea of how different they are from seasons in the lower 48. They have all the same qualities, spring has rain and lots of flowers, summer is sunny and hot, fall begins the cool weather and the bright fall colors on the plants and trees, but the timing and the intensity are extreme.

The other Alaskan seasons are related, and interconnected with the regular seasons but have more to do with subsistence living. Most Alaskans do not buy meat, fish or berries. When the appropriate time of year arrives, they hunt and harvest.

Cranberries...everywhere!

When we arrived in June, most local conversations always included talk about salmon. "Did you get your salmon yet?" was the most common question. The King Salmon were running and it turns out, for Alaskans King Salmon is King. They're not that interested in the other, later salmon like pinks and even Silvers. Having a freezer full, or 6 or 7 dried or smoked was enough for a year and they were happy.

The next season was blueberry. The berries were super abundant this year and two weeks early. There were blueberries all over the campground but the locals told me not to bother with those "go up to the Taylor Highway there are lots of blueberries up there." Sylvia went one afternoon and picked six gallons. Campers who drove the highway told us the road was lined with cars, the hills full of blueberry pickers. Not content with six gallons, Sylvia went picking two more times, she needed enough to get her through the winter and to share with friends and relatives.

Moose territory

The sides of the roads were again lined with cars and people on August 24th. The first day of the most anticipated of all Alaskan seasons, the day no one makes any other plans for had arrived. It was Moose season! Not wanting to carry hundreds of pounds of moose meat through the woods, everyone just sets up next to their trucks and hopes this winter's meat walks out to the road. (This year three moose were bagged along side the 10 miles stretch of road south of Tok.) Those who don't get their moose the first day are still hunting until they do. Marilyn, a elderly woman who lives near the campground drove in one day, her lever-action 30-30 casually resting on the passenger seat. She wanted to be ready when 'her' moose showed up. Everyone in Alaska wants their moose, it's what's for dinner most nights. (Moose meat is good eating. Sort of a darker steak.)

Without a big freezer all Dave I have only gathered the 9 pounds of salmon and 3 pounds of cranberries but we really like the subsistence idea and lifestyle. For Alaska and Alaskans there is no other way to live, and it permeates the culture here, makes it a very unique and special place. Integrates the turn of the 'regular' seasons with the seasons for living.

Evolution of a fish killer

What it's all about

This summer in Alaska I started fishing. Always a fan of eating fish, Alaska seemed a good place to start getting my own. Our friends Bob and Pam (thanks guys!) had already supplied a reel, Dave bought the rod and we picked up our licenses in Tok.

My first fish was a rainbow trout from Hidden Lake. Just a mile hike off the Alcan, Hidden Lake is small, but big enough for a pair of Trumpeter Swans, and deep enough for fish to live year round. It was really hard to kill that first fish. She was beautiful and so alive. Dave insisted I gut the second one. That was even harder. None, however were hard to eat. Rainbow trout are delicious! The next day we had trout cakes. All that good food just waiting for us under the water. I was hooked on fishing.

Trout

Our next, and several subsequent fishing expeditions were on Deadman Lake. Known to the local Athabascans as Big Pike Lake, we were hoping for a little bigger catch. Back East folks don't eat pike, but out here they grow bigger, and they too are delicious, very buttery. Every week or so we'd go out fishing to catch dinner. I started thinking of the lake and the pike as a lot like the grocery store. Except, of course the gutting and the killing. It was still hard to kill them especially as Dave was using the paddle blade.

The Pike

We improved on the killer technique one afternoon after admiring a billy club like thing of some other fishermen. It was kinda slow at the campground so I cut down, peeled a willow and started carving a club. Dave got all fancy, carved in a diamond grip handle and "Kelly's Fish Killer" was born. He then quickly carved up a simpler, more utilitarian version for himself.

Willow Fish Wackers

Now, prepared with all the necessary equipment we graduated to the big league. For our last big Alaskan adventure we decided to go to Valdez and fish for Coho, known as Silvers locally, Salmon. The silver run is slow this year but after three hours of casting at Allison Point I caught a 13.25 pound Silver Salmon. It took a few nervous minutes before I reeled it in and over to Dave. He grabbed the line, pulled the fish up onto the rocks and efficiently wacked it with his fish killer. I still have a hard time with the killing, and Dave again had to do the gutting and filleting. But I'm more than happy with the 9 pounds of salmon fillets are filling up the freezer.

The Big Silver & me

I can honestly say that fishing isn't all that fun. I love being outside and on the water, but I'm easily distracted from the casting and reeling repetitions by a duck, or a bird, or a mountain view. On the other hand, the killing and the eating, the gathering of the food part of it really speaks to me. It's doing the subsistence thing. Hooking a fish, wacking him upside the head, and then gutting and filleting him (or harvesting the roe if it's a she) isn't fun, but it really brings you down to earth, closer to the core. It's one of the things that a summer season in Alaska has given me a deep appreciation for.

A Day in the Life of an Alaskan Campground Host

Weed Wacking at Lakeview!

Like mornings everywhere, the morning of a camphost starts with a good cup of coffee. Unlike everywhere however, we're in a primitive Alaskan campground miles from town. After that first cup of coffee, the day evolves into multiple tasks that fall into two categories; maintenance and hosting. The maintenance jobs are predictable and straight forward. The hosting...that's where we're never entirely sure what the day will bring.

There are actually two campgrounds in our 'domain'. The one we live at, Deadman Lake, is 1.2 miles from the highway. It has 14 primitive sites, well-spaced along a 3/4 mile loop. The campground also has three sets of outhouses, a 1/4 mile interpretive trail with observation deck, a small boat ramp, a dock, and a screened pavilion.

Dock at Deadman

Lakeview Campground is 10 miles North west. With one outhouse, and 10 sites set closer together and closer to the road, Lakeview is often as busy as Deadman.

After coffee and breakfast we start the maintenance portion of the day by cleaning the outhouses. Word on the Alcan is that our outhouses are the cleanest ones for hundreds of miles. We've driven those miles, visited some of those other outhouses and we agree. First we walk the loop to clean the outhouses. We also check the dock and boat ramp for pike racks, or lost underwear, the sites for any garbage (which we rarely find) and the trash cans. If the cans are full then we fire up the camp truck and throw the bags into the back. Then it's off to Lakeview campground, where we do it all over again. From there it's another 6 miles down the road to Northway to throw the garbage into the Fish and Wildlife dumpster. If the truck needs fuel, there's a small store here. Then we drive back to Deadman, pulling off to check the occasional roadside interpretive pull offs.

Weed Wacking at the Border

At this point we'll also do some of the other maintenance work. Weed wacking, painting, dock cleaning, door repairs, road maintenance, etc. About once every two weeks we dig out our passports and head for the Alaska/Canada border. One of our jobs is to maintain the "Welcome to Alaska" pull off. Usually it needs a bit of trimming and some trash pick up. The job takes longer than it should as we spend about half the time there taking photos of folks standing in front of the Welcome sign. To get back to the campground we pass through U.S. customs. That takes a little more time, and if it's not busy, even more as we stop to chat with the customs officers. It's a lonely job out on the border!

Back at the campground, campers have generally moved on by noon. One or two might stay a few days, three guys actually stayed a week pike fishing, but most just spend the night on their way in or out of Alaska. This is generally our off time. We relax, take of hike, go fishing, etc. and keep on eye on the road into camp. Around 3:00 or so, the campers start rolling in again and the 'hosting' begins. We try and touch base with everyone letting them know about the local dogs who loop through the camp, the 7pm Ranger Talk and remind them not to burn down the forest. It's also good to remind them that they can only use dead and downed trees. No felling is allowed, and no, we don't sell firewood. The taiga may look wet, but with the black spruce and Labrador tea plants this place is a tinder box. Other hosting tasks have included helping a guy fix a flat, providing fishing and hiking advice, orientation (amazingly a number of folks aren't really sure where they are), and general chit chat.

The Official Truck

If it's Saturday or Sunday, our hosting duties also include giving the Ranger Talk. I talk about Moose The Alaskan moose is a fascinating animal and an integral piece of the Alaskan experience. If you want to know more, stop by the pavilion at 7:00!

Between 8 and 10, a second wave of campers arrive. Hosting at this point generally just involves letting them know of the remaining openings and directions to other camping spots. We're tired, they're tired and we're all ready to call it a day.

If I Wear Sunglasses at Night, Do I Also Need Sunscreen?

C

Caught my first Pike @ 10:00 - with Sunglasses

Last night the sun set at 10:30, not rising again until 5:30 or so. And it felt weird. Only a month and half ago, at the zenith, it set at 12:30, twilight never ended and the sun rose at 3:30. I've gotten used to the perpetual daylight. You could even say I've grown to love it.

At first it was hard to settle down and get to sleep. The body just wasn't getting those nighttime vibes that come after dusk. It just wanted to keep going. Laying down, I kept feeling like I was missing something. That's when I started wearing my sunglasses after 10:00 pm (and singing 80's songs). Just so I could get to sleep by 11 or so. Dave also covered up the skylight in the bedroom and added extra curtains. With that, we could simulate nighttime enough to get back into a regular sleep routine. Still...I loved getting up at night and looking out...and seeing.

I also loved going on late night hikes and paddles. A day could easily start with a hike, followed by a good five or six hour rest, and end with a long paddle, all in broad daylight. Out on the water at 10:00pm, in full sun, I'd wonder if I should have put on sunscreen.

Late Night Jam Session (Notice daylight)

It also took a while to get used to not seeing the sun where I thought it should be. Yes, it was in the sky, but timewise, not anywhere near where expected. Basically if you tried to tell the time of day by the sun it always seemed to be between 11 am and 1 pm. Occasionally it'd be far enough to the west that it felt like 4 or so.... when it was really 9:00. A single day just went on forever.

By the time we leave Alaska at the beginning of September. The sun will be on what seems a 'normal' track for an Easterner, setting around 8pm and rising around 6:30. I won't need to wear sunglasses to trick my internal clock into sleep mode. I never did end up putting on sunscreen for a 10pm hike or paddle, but it was one of the many thought-provoking experiences of Alaska.

Going to town!

Driving the Gov't Truck to Tok

When you live 70 miles and approximately an hour and half out in the middle of the boreal forest, with no phone, no internet, no TV or radio, the weekly trip to town is a big event. Especially when that town is Tok, Alaska.

Tok is just the right size for a brief visit to civilization. It's just big enough to have one grocery store, one outfitter (owned by the same guys as the grocery store), one restaurant (American), one food truck (Thai), a small library, a hardware store without any signage, a sled dog association, two tourist shops, two liquor stores (neither of which carries more than 7 or so varieties of beer and wine) and the Tetlin National Wildlife Refuge office (aka water, laundry machines, wifi and nice people!).

The trip itself is also part of the 'excitement.' Summer in Alaska is also road construction season. At

Following the Pace Car

the same time that the crews are fixing one part of the road another section is disintegrating. Slaloming around ever expanding potholes and flying over frost heaves adds a roller-coaster ride feeling. Then there are the construction delays. Those usually entail a good 15 minute or more stop while all the cars, motorcycles, bicyclists, trucks, and RV's queue up. Folks get out, stretch their legs. talk with one another, and get the latest construction update from the traffic person. Then the pilot car shows up and we all jump into our vehicles for the winding trip down the road, dodging gravel trucks and spreaders.

Of course the scenery is really the highlight. Next week's trip will be our 6th and it's still thrilling to see the Alaska range rising in the West, the Wrangell's in the South and the panoramic views of the Tanana River Valley. This year's rainfall has been much higher than average and the rivers are all running wild. About 10 miles out of Tok we cross the Tanana River and it's always amazing to see how high and fast it is running.

The Bridge to and From Civilization

Crossing the bridge is also where we come into cell phone and data range. As the phone starts buzzing with all the missed call and new email messages we know it's time to transition from back-country to town mode. It's good to catch up with all our friends and family and load up with supplies, but after 5 hours of that, it also feels good to cross back over the Tanana River and back into the wild!

Kelly's First Fish

Me and my fish

Perhaps I've been reading too many books about life in the Alaskan tundra. 

Dave took me fishing Sunday and the first ever fish I caught and gutted turned out to be a female with eggs.  The eggs looked just like sushi roe, so I ate it. Straight from the fish.  And it was good!

 Primitive response aside....Yay! I caught a fish,  three in fact.  One we let go because it was too small,  but the other two,  along with Dave's three are on the dinner menu tonight. 

Dave's been showing me the ropes, or should I say lines (ha, ha) for the past week. First was casting where he risked and did get hooked a few times.  Then there was the 'bail incident' where for some reason the line got wrapped up inside the spindle thing. And then there was just a day of not catching anything. But today made up for all that.

Dave at the Hidden Lake Trailhead

For fishing folk, the fish are rainbow trout and we used a "meps 5 spinner."  For non-fishing people this whole thing is like learning about a previously unknown piece of the world. There a special rods, and reels, and lots and lots of different thingees you put on the end of the line to attract different fishes. Then you have to know what lakes they tend to hang out in, or were stocked in. For instance it was Hidden Lake where we went fishing and where the state of Alaska stocks rainbow trout. 

Winning form

Even if we didn't catch any fish it would have been a lovely morning as Hidden Lake is a 1 mile hike into the taiga forest.  We hiked through huge patches of ripe blueberries and mats of ripening red cranberries. The wildlife refuge leaves a small john boat on the shore and it's perfect for getting out...and catching fish... just like an Alaskan, just like real fishermen.

Camp Hosts in Residence - Deadman Lake

Clouds on the Lake

We're here and all settled in as Volunteer Camp Hosts at Deadman Lake.  After we get into our routine I'll write up a few posts about the last three weeks and the Great Circle Tour of Alaska.

But for now, a few thoughts on Deadman Lake. First of all, the name.  As far as anyone around here can recall they do not know why it is called Deadman Lake.  During our time in Alaska however, we've noticed that places are either named after things, or represent some super-literal, super-obvious description of the place.  Beaver Creek has a giant beaver lodge,  Eagle City has lots of eagles, Copper Creek has copper.  I wouldn't be surprised if someday there was a deadman here, and that happened to be the day they named the lake.

 Name aside,  Deadman Lake is lovely,  typical tiaga-area lake.  There's a beaver lodge (two in fact), one nesting pair of trumpeter swans (they mate for life and establish territory of one lake per couple), eagles, lots of ducks,  and fish.  The shoreline is marsh/bog, perfect moose habitat.  Haven't seen one yet, but there is enough scat to assure us they are around.

Our neighbor - Mr. Beaver

 As far as the campground goes, it's pretty sweet too. Our site is level and high enough from the lake that there aren't hordes of mosquitoes, but close enough that we can easily walk down to the dock/boat ramp....oh, and we have a canoe!  The sites here have no hookups, no water, and no fee.  They do have lovely views, privacy and a chance to be in the Alaska wilderness.  So far this combination has already attracted a very distinct type of camper. After only 4 nights on site we've met a bicyclist from the Netherlands,  two couples, traveling together in old VW vans from Argentina,  an Australian family from Hollywood that filmed themselves swimming in an actually Alaskan lake (it's really kinda warm right now),  an old-school Alberta rancher.  The rest of campers have all been friendly, self-sufficient and very happy to be here in Alaska.

As are we!