Made It to Anchorage Mostly Intact

Well, there is the incident of almost asphyxiating the cats. We had stopped at Tolsona Wilderness Campground in Glennallen for the night. It is down a long, dirt road. All the campsites are situated in woods along a small, fast-moving stream with plenty of space between sites. We didn’t have any close neighbors. It was already 4:00 by the time we got there. You have to go across a short, one-lane wooden bridge to get to the office and dump station. David didn’t like the look of the bridge. He said it didn’t look well-supported. We registered, set up camp and had dinner. It was still early and, of course, light since it doesn’t get dark until after 11 pm.
I had read in several places about a 1-mile trail to a “mud volcano” at this campground. Doesn’t that sound intriguing? We walked to the office to get directions. The man we asked laughed. “That’s not a good name,” he said and pulled out a photo of what looked like a big mud puddle. “It’s a spring, a cold spring.” He laughed again. “It’s very wet up there, but I see you’re prepared for the mosquitoes.” We both had on our mosquito jackets because we had noticed the proliferation of the pests at the campsite. David was holding a big can of insect repellant in his hand.
The man told us the trail was one mile one way, two miles round trip. (It’s not as though you’re going to go there and not come back.) He gave us directions. We set off, back past our trailer, and up a steep hill. Almost immediately it was muddy. Plus there was a ton of mosquitoes. The man had said it would take us 45 minutes to get there and that the trail was well-marked. We planned to get there quicker, after all, it was only a mile. But it was difficult to walk fast because of mud and fallen logs. After 25 minutes we came to a bog with no clear way to get across. I thought we were close. David looked back and said the trail wasn’t as clearly marked going back. Also, the mosquito clouds were thickening. All the blood-suckers in the immediate universe were descending on fresh new meat. We imagined ourselves wandering lost around the bog with wet feet in the midst of swarms of mosquitos hell-bent on eating us for dinner. We decided it really wasn’t worth it to see the mud hole/spring/volcano. So we turned back. Going back was faster.
When we got near the trailer, we heard a loud alarm. “Is that coming from our trailer?” I said. David rushed to the trailer, unlocked the door and went inside. “It’s the propane alarm,” he said. The trailer smelled like gas. The alarm was ear-deafening. The cats were both hiding. We located them and put them in the truck. They were terror-stricken. I fed them treats, and they were happy. I stayed in the truck with them until David had aired out the trailer. What we think happened is that David had leaned against the stove (the knobs face out) when putting his shoes on and somehow turned a burner to high. Unlike in the boat, there aren’t anticipators on this stove. You just push and turn the knob and gas is released. Needless to say, we’re careful not to lean against the stove knobs now and always check them when we leave. The cats are fine with no ill effects except that Plato runs and hides when we turn on the stove.

A few days before Glennallen, we were in Tok, a very small town. From there we drove southwest on the Tok Cutoff with stunning views of the Wrangell Mountains. Prolific wildflowers bloomed along the roadside. Unfortunately, the best views are from the road and almost never at the designated viewpoints. The road was paved but rough with miles-long gravel stretches, innumerable frost heaves and some road construction. A couple times we got in line behind a pilot car. It wasn’t a very smooth ride for the cats--their little heads bobbing up and down like Hawaiian hulu dancing dolls. Although it was slow-going, the weather was sunny and warm.

Around 5:00 we found a large gravel parking area off the road, near a river. Only one other truck was parked there, so we set up camp. For the next few hours a stream of cars rolled by, heading to the river. We walked over to see what was going on. Under the bridge was a smallish rapid. People, mostly kids, were swimming and floating down the rapids in PFD’s and rubber rafts. A young girl was trying to entice a St. Bernard to get in the water and float with her. He was already wet and didn’t want to get back into the freezing-cold water. Instead, he saw us and bounded over to greet us, getting our pants wet and dirty. Everyone seemed to know everyone else. It must be the local swimming hole, especially on such a warm day.

The next day we drove the Richardson Highway to Valdez. Along the way we stopped at the Wrangell-St. Elias National Park visitor’s center and watched an excellent video that showed parts of the park we’d never see (ice fields), listened to an interesting ranger talk and learned more from the exhibits.

Farther down the road we stopped and looked at the Alaska pipeline. (It runs 800 miles from Prudoe Bay to Valdez.)

We stopped at a few scenic overlooks.

When we got to Thompson pass, the scenery changed. We were in the mountains above the tree-line, level with snow and ice, and it got colder.

In Valdez, back at sea level, our campground was surrounded by dense woods. Around 6:15 pm we saw a young black bear circling all the campsites, looking for food. The cats watched him intently as he walked by our trailer. They didn’t seem afraid, but when a couple small airplanes flew really low overhead, they freaked out and ran for cover.


Valdez is another small coastal town with fabulous scenery. We walked around the boat docks and watched some men cutting up freshly-cut halibut (for their own consumption, not for sale.)
We walked a short trail and watched a fishing boat in Port Valdez spread out and pull in a purse seine. We bought fish at the fish market. After lunch in the trailer, we drove down a road to get a closer look at Valdez Glacier.

Then we went to a fish hatchery and watched salmon trying to swim through a weir to get to their spawning grounds. They sure have a tough time. After spending a few years at sea, they swim back to the place where they were born in order to spawn. The ones who make it to the weir have had to surmount all kinds of obstacles including people, bears and eagles who want to eat them. Some of them got stuck on one side of the weir and couldn’t get through. People were wading in the water to touch them. One man caught one with his bare hands and held it by the gills, proudly showing off. Then he dropped it, and it slipped into the rocks. He had a hard time picking it up and kept dropping it. By the time he got it back into the water, if it was even alive, I doubt it had the strength left to make it through the weir. This was disturbing, even though the salmon die once they spawn. Many people act as though fish are inanimate objects and have no sensations. There were several bald eagles flying around. One had a fish in its talons.

We looked at some waterfalls, visited the Pioneer cemetery with graves from the late 1800’s and walked up a steep set of stairs to see a view of the entire town and Port Valdez. You can see the oil terminal on the other side of the bay. Black and brown bunnies were hopping about. They looked tame, but you couldn’t approach them.

The next day was sunny and warm with big, fluffy white clouds. We stopped at a couple waterfalls along the road. The sun was shining directly on Horsetail Falls. A man and woman had climbed partway up and stood beside the falls. The woman had a big camera with a huge lens and a tripod and was taking her time. David and I walked up. She turned to me and said with a big smile how wonderful the light was for photographing the falls. I have no doubt she got better shots than I did! Lots of people lug around huge cameras with huge, telescopic lens. I look at them and wonder why I bother!

The rest of the day we stopped at scenic overlooks, took short hikes, learned about glaciers while visiting Worthington Glacier and took a little detour to Copper River Princess Wilderness lodge to see where people who like the finest amenities stay. We met a young woman and her father who were with a biking group. After the first 20 miles, they decided to opt out of the biking part of the trip. “By 7 am you’re on the road, biking 80 miles a day,” said the man. “Didn’t they explain all that before you signed up?” we asked. “Yes,” he said, “but we kind of glossed over it.”

We’ve seen a few groups of bicyclists on the various highways and one man walking, pushing a cart in front of him.
Farther along we tried to hike a trail while battling a zillion mosquitoes with all means at our disposal, but we gave up and ran back to the car. After that, we went to the campground in Glennallen where we encountered even more mosquitoes and had our unpleasant propane episode. Back in the trailer the cats soon became enthralled with a little squirrel eating a nut outside the window and just couldn’t stand the fact that they couldn’t go outside and pounce on it.

It was cold and rainy the next day, so we couldn’t see much at most of the viewpoints. The rain did let up a little while we walked the trail at Matanuska Glacier. The foggy cottonwood forest with pretty wildflowers and views of the glacier was very picturesque. We stayed in a campground in Palmer, about 40 miles from Anchorage. It continued to rain.

The sun finally came out the next day. What a difference sunshine makes. We walked around downtown Palmer where families from several (other) northern states settled in the 1930’s as part of a federal farming experiment. Most ended up returning to the lower 48, but some made it and others came to replace those who left. Produce grows well in this area because of the silt from the glacial runoff that enriches the soil. We drove out to a farm and picked our own vegetables: radishes, bok choy, kohlrabi, green leaf lettuce and kale. It was fun, and the price was cheaper than in the grocery store. We had never tasted kohlrabi before and now use it raw in salads. I didn’t realize that each individual radish is a separate plant. I thought they grew in clumps like you buy in the grocery store!

That afternoon we went to a Musk Ox farm where the musk ox are being domesticated, and their wool (called qiviut) is used by native weavers to make scarves and blankets. The Musk Ox are actually related to goats. They’re small and because of their propensity to huddle in a circle to defend their young from wolves, made easy targets for people to hunt and consequently were nearly exterminated.

After that we stopped at a stream where I looked for gold nuggets in the water while David looked on skeptically. I didn’t find any this time, maybe next time....

Anchorage

The next day we went to Anchorage. The 11-mile Tony Knowles coastal trail runs down from a park, through a forest, along the shore and through town. The forecast was for rain, but it hadn’t started yet, so we got out our bikes, drove to the park and started on the trail. The plan was for David to go to the end and back and then pick me up with the truck at the end because he rides twice as fast as I do. It was a great ride that started steeply downhill through pretty woods with white flowers and lush foliage.

Then it wove in and out of the forest with views of mud flats along the shore. Along the way we saw a moose and her baby happily browsing along the side of the trail. I got reprimanded by someone for being too close, but the moose showed no signs of agitation. By the time I got to the end, it started to rain, and David picked me up.
That evening we took advantage of an early bird special at a nice restaurant in town and had a great meal, some of the best salmon I’ve had. The rest of our time in Anchorage was spent running errands and replenishing the food locker.