Yukon Hospitality and the Alaska Panhandle

1. 

   The fishing village of Petersburg, Alaska

   
   Our last morning in Denali National Park, clouds moved in again. We discovered that the park lodge's coffee shop was also a WiFi hot spot, so joined other weary travelers in downloading our photos and communicating with the outside world there. We drove back thru Fairbanks in pouring rain. We spent the night at our welder friend's park in Tok again before heading back to Yukon Territory, where we would return again to Haines Junction and then drive south to Haines, AK, to catch the Inside Passage ferry. There is only one alternative to the Alaska Highway between Tok and Whitehorse—a road that goes even further north and is reportedly covered with sharp stones and gravel. It is not recommended for RVs. Chris checked his welds and declared them secure, then we proceeded east.
   
   

   

   
   The segment of the highway within Alaska had been resurfaced and was in better condition. We also noticed experimental “anti-permafrost melt” tiling that had been installed beneath the new roadway.
   

   

   St. Elias Mountains

   
   After crossing back into Canada, we drove slowly through Beaver Creek and across the badly damaged road east of there. The sky was clear and we caught a few distant glimpses of a couple of the St. Elias peaks, but not the taller ones that are located toward the southern edge of the range (the Alaska Highway skirts the northern edge of the St. Elias Mountains.) Nevertheless, by the time we got past our former Lake Creek campsite, approaching a town on Kluane Lake called “Destruction Bay,” Bob inspected the reinforcing and discovered that, although it was holding up, the original frame had completely cracked through in one spot. Although the trailer was not sagging, the broken tubing was starting to chew up the fiberglass body. We realized that it would need further reinforcement. Also, the trailer tire on that side was wearing unevenly.
   

   

   View from Frosty's restaurant in Haines Junction, Yukon

   
   We had the telephone number of a Minnesota friend's cousin Gordon Allison in Haines Junction, so we telephoned him from Destruction Bay and asked him to try to find a welder there who could work on our trailer the next day. Fortunately, it was not a Sunday this time. Gordon also lined up someone to change the oil on our Subaru, which had traveled more than 4,000 miles since leaving Minnesota. We drove slowly over a pass, the highest spot along the Alaska Highway, into Haines Junction. En route, we spotted a large grizzly in the road ditch, he appeared to be waiting to cross the highway. We met Gordon and his wife at the restaurant they once owned in Haines Junction. The view from the porch at the restaurant is pictured. We had planned to camp at nearby Kluane National Park, but opted to stay at an RV park in town that was near the two garages. At least we got showers that night.
   The next morning, Gordon escorted us to the shops where we unhitched the trailer for welding and dropped off the Subaru for an oil change. Subarus are popular thruout the Pacific Northwest.
   
   

   

   Then we went out for coffee. Noticed that Yukon coffee shops sell espresso, lattes, fishing guides—and pepper spray for bears.
   

   

   The Kluane Visitors Centre and First Nation Cultural Centre in Haines Junction

   
   After that, we stopped at the Kluane Visitors Centre and First Nation Cultural Centre in Haines Junction. In the photo, Bob and Gordon are standing in front of a cache tower at the Centre, which residents of Yukon Territory use to store their game and food to keep it away from wild animals. Gordon is active in the local historical society as is his friend, Ron Chambers, of Tlinglit First Nation heritage. I had met both men two months earlier at the Dassel History Center when they were traveling through Minnesota. Some of Gordon's paternal ancestors, the Sellards and Colemans, once lived in the Dassel area, on the farm now owned by Stuart and Joan Johnson. Gordon is a cousin of Julie Coleman Lindquist. Gordon told us that his father, a World War II veteran of the Canadian armed forces, who was born in Sasquechewan, moved to Haines Junction after the war to take a job maintaining the new Alaska Highway. His mother was a bank teller in Whitehorse.
   Besides being a leader at the cultural centre, Mr. Chambers was also instrumental in restoring his people's hunting, fishing and gathering rights within national parklands, so that they can continue to live off the land, if they so desire.
   

   

   Kathleen Lake, Kluane National Park, Yukon

   
   After lunch and retrieving our vehicles, Bob & I headed for Kluane National Park, where we again hoped to camp and hike at Kathleen Lake. But it was pouring rain.
   
   Disappointed, we took a few photos and headed south, where we found better weather at Million Dollar Falls Provincial Park.
   

   

   Yellow Aspen trees, Kluane Park

   
   
   
   
   
   We were sad that travel to any back country in the Yukon was scuttled by the trailer repair delays, but Bob was pleased with the opportunity to meet three nice welders—he used to be a welder himself. And Gordon's hospitality went above and beyond anything that was expected. Good people in the North Country.
   
   
   
   
   

   

   Oscar at Million Dollar Falls Park

   Another reason to drive further south on the highway away from Haines Junction is that an annual bicycle race was scheduled to begin the next morning, and the highway immediately south of the junction was expected to be closed for a couple of hours.
   
   
   
   
   
   
   Oscar even found a sunny spot in which to lie down beside the picnic table.  Our doggy was beginning to tire of cold, wet weather and constant confinement to a leash.
   
   The next morning, we snapped a few photos of the falls and headed south toward the Alaska border. Along the route here, we passed a few of the faster bicyclists. Their support vehicles were parked along the shoulders.
   
   

   

   Along the Haines Highway

   The road through the coastal ranges between Haines Junction and Haines has many eagle nests and spectacular mountain vistas around every corner.
   
   

   

   
   It is impossible to drive from Anchorage or Fairbanks to the Alaska panhandle without traveling through Canada and there are only two highways between Canada and the Alaska coast. The only panhandle cities accessible by road are Skagway and Haines.
   
   

   

   Alaska Marine Highway

   At Haines, we drove our rig onto the cargo deck of the Alaska Marine Highway. The trip to Juneau was calm and restful for us.
   
   

   

   However Oscar had to stay in his kennel in the car. After four hours, he was very glad to see us.
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   

   

   North end of the Inside Passage

   As we approached Juneau on the ferry, we spotted a couple of glaciers coming down to the sea. We also saw occasional orca and whale fins surfacing while on the ferry.
   
   

   

   Mendenhall Glacier Campground

   Arriving in Juneau at dusk, we spent three nights at the Mendenhall Glacier campground, located across a lake from the famous glacier, pictured above. Another, smaller lake, adjoined our campsite. Signs around the campground warned of the presence of bears.
   

   

   Mendenhall Glacier with floating "calves"

   We spent our first day in Juneau exploring Mendenhall Glacier area and the road to the north end of the peninsula. Here's a closeup of the Mendenhall Glacier. Inner glacial ice is turquoise-colored. Melted-off chunks, called “calves,” are floating in the water. Evidence of global warming is much more prevalent in the arctic and in glaciated areas than it is in temperate climates. The Mendenhall Glacier has retreated at least a half mile since the 1930s.
   

   

   State Capitol building, Juneau

   
   Our second day we did laundry and explored downtown Juneau and saw the state capitol building. Since we had the dog with us and couldn't easily go fishing, we opted to purchase fresh fish at a market. It was also much cheaper than hiring a guide and boat.
   
   
   

   

   
   Our final morning in Juneau, we had to catch the ferry very early. While Bob was preparing the trailer for travel, I took the dog for a walk. We had barely gotten on the path around this little lake next to our campsite, when I spotted a black animal about 50 yards ahead of us and thought to myself, “Oh someone else is walking their dog.” The creature lifted its head, and I realized that it was not a dog, but a young black bear. Then I saw another bear beside it. They spotted me and disappeared into the woods to the right of the path. I hustled Oscar back to our campsite before he saw the bears, put him in the kennel, and jumped into the car, saying to Bob, “hurry and finish up, there are bears headed this way.
   

   

   Black bears at the neighbor's tent site.

   In less than a minute, I saw the bears leaving the woods beside our campsite and crossing the driveway into a neighbor's tent site. The neighbors had carelessly left empty beer bottles and other containers on their picnic table overnight, so the bears stopped to check it out. I slowly opened the car door and, keeping it between me and the road, snapped a few photos, including this one. Meanwhile, Bob had secured the trailer and joined me in the car. We drove away, stopping at the trailer of our campground host to make him aware of the unexpected visitors before heading to the ferry.
   

   

   Ferry docked at Sitka

   
   We got on the ferry and headed for an afternoon stopover at Sitka, the original Russian fur trading post site in Alaska. Midway through the eight-hour trip, Bob asked the ship's purser to allow him down to the car deck to walk Oscar. Ferry literature had stated that there would be regular “dog walk” calls to passengers with pets on board, but this purser was not inclined to allow it; apparently the crew was busy and did not want to be bothered. Bob reminded him of the promise and he relented. We also had a chance to walk Oscar during the 90-minute layover at Sitka. This photo is of our ferry at the dock.
   

   

   Bird refuge in rainforest at Sitka

   Sitka's ferry port is next to the site of the old Russian post. After a few years the Indians tired of being abused by the traders and burned down the post; then the Russians sold Alaska to the United States. It is now a bird refuge. The entire Alaska panhandle lies within the northern temperate rainforest. It is mostly Sitka spruce, hemlock and western red cedar, carpeted by ferns and skunk cabbage. The plaintive song of the Hermit Thrush is common in these rainforests.
   

   

   
   The ferry traveled all night to Petersburg, a fishing village on Mitkof Island. Some hardy passengers slept in tents on the sundeck.
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   

   

   Petersburg Harbor

   
   We passed small floating icebergs and harbor seals on our way in to Petersburg. However, the pursor neglected to make a “dog walk call,” and we were sleeping on recliner-style seats and neglected to nag him. By the time we got down to the car deck, the inside of our car was a mess. Oscar had panicked, shredded his bedding, taken out the front panel of his kennel and was in the front seats, where he had no access to food or water. He had chewed most of the way through the driver's seat belt and also damaged an inside door panel. The car reeked of the odor of an unhappy dog.
   
   

   

   Our campsite on Mitkof Island

   We drove to a campsite in a remote location. on the south end of Mitkof Island and proceeded to make repairs and clean out the kennel. The campground was officially closed due to budget cuts, but it was not barricaded and a few hardy souls were camped there anyhow. The ferry would not return to the island for two days.
   

   

   View of a misty mainland glacier from the shore of Mitkof Island.

   There was no potable water at the campground, and since the ocean is salt, we had to drive 20 miles back to town the next morning to get water even for washing dishes.
   

   

   
   The rain forest on Mitkof Island was full of spruce, hemlock and skunk cabbage. It rained every day, although the rain was light while we were there. I was glad we had brought good rain gear. However, we lacked the knee-high rubber boots worn by resident panhandle men, women, children and even teenagers.
   
   

   

   
    This photo is of the picturesque harbor. Note the unusual rocky peak at left, the Petersburg Thumb,  a navigational landmark in the panhandle. While in town getting water, we also stopped at the public library and got on line again. Access to the Internet and cell phone service was infrequent and, as we learned after arriving home, Canadian roaming charges are expensive, even when you have international service.
   

   

   
   Cottages, seaside houses, crab trawlers and nets lined the sides of the roads.
   
   

   

   Sons of Norway Hall, Petersburg, AK

   This Sons of Norway Hall, complete with Viking ship replica, is on the National Register of Historic Places. The village was named after a Norwegian immigrant who opened a salmon cannery.
   

   

   Muskeg, Mitkof Island

   
   Part of the interior of Mitkof Island is muskeg—a stagnant bog hospitable only to shallow-rooted black spruce trees.
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   

   

   
   Eagles, like this juvenile, are plentiful in coastal Alaska. Instead of seeing one or two eagles at a time, like here, you see them in flocks, sitting on the limbs of trees on the edge of the water.
   
   

   

   
   The big cruise ships do not come to Mitkof Island. The harbor isn't deep enough and the Wrangell Narrows passage barely accommodates the ferries of the Alaska Marine Highway. Ferry service is every other day.
   

   

   Watchman at the bow of the ship.

   In the Narrows, the keen eyes of a human watchman augment the ship's navigating system. Careless motorboats sometimes cross right in front of ferries and barges, and the watchman warns them with a loud horn. The ferry ride to Ketchikan, the southernmost city in Alaska, was shorter than the previous ferry rides, so Oscar tolerated it better. Bob had reinforced his kennel panel so he couldn't take it out. He also had a chance to walk Oscar when we docked at Wrangell.
   

   

   
   A fishing trawler makes its way along the Inside Passage near Wrangell.
   
   
   
   
   

   

   
   Timber is another major industry in the panhandle. These logs were being floated between booms along the Wrangell Narrows.
   
   

   

   
   We camped in a national forest near Ketchikan. We heard Pacific loons on this lake; their warble is not as loud and melodic as our common Minnesota loons. We also consulted a veterinarian, who sold us a dog-calming spray and recommended giving Oscar Benadryl to make him drowsy on our next trip on the ferry.
   
   

   

   South Totem Pole site

   
   Ketchikan is famous for its collections of restored totem poles. The coastal Indians carved them from red cedar to illustrate legends and to honor the founders of their clans. Here Bob and Oscar add to a legend at the south totem pole site. Totems are not idols of worship, but serve to teach stories about the origins of animal species, geographic landmarks and other legends.
   

   

   
   The village chief and his extended family resided in large, painted longhouses. Less prominent families resided in smaller longhouses nearby. The Tlinkit and other coastal Native Americans were rich in resources, with a highly developed culture. Their clans follow maternal, not paternal lines. They had a robust trade arrangement with inland natives, long before white men arrived in the area. They continue to play an active role in government, particularly in Canada.
   
   
   

   

   Part of Ketchikan's north totem pole site.

   The north totem site has fewer poles, but they are in a more natural, wooded setting, facing the sea. Some current Indian villages include traditional totem poles; we drove through one later in British Columbia. Totems identify the homeowners' or village clan and are a status symbol.
   
   After two nights in Ketchikan, we boarded a ferry to Prince Rupert, British Columbia. It was a long trip. The purser on this boat was more sympathetic to dogs, allowing Bob to visit Oscar once and checking on Oscar herself. The Benadryl worked, and he slept much of the eight-hour journey. The Queen Charlotte Islands are in the distance in this final photo as we enter Canadian watere.
   
   

   

   
   
   

Driving the Alaska Highway

Tolkat Valley, Denali National Park, Alaska

Ten years ago, Bob and I spent several days in Kootenai and Banff National Parks in British Columbia and Alberta, Canada. It was spectacular scenery, but we did not have time to drive further north into Jasper Park to see the icefields and mountains there. Reluctantly, we headed home to our jobs and responsibilities, but decided that someday, when we could manage to get away from Minnesota for a month or more, we would like to drive further north and camp along the Alaska Highway.

After we had both semi-retired and sold our commercial property and could finally take the time to get away for more than a month, we started to plan our Alaska vacation. We knew that, even five or six weeks would not allow us to see all of that beautiful state, and we also wanted to spend time camping in western Canada. Adjusting our calendar even more, we factored in a week and a half to visit relatives and friends in the Pacific Northwest before coming home. Several of Bob's cousins are getting older, as are we, and we wanted to spend time with them before our health prevented travel.

It took six months to plan our trip and the last month was especially challenging. Even so, the last few days before a journey are always frantic.

Packing up the car and camper before leaving Dassel, the morning of June 7, 2914

Arrangements need to be finalized for feeding the cats, watering plants, mowing the lawn, collecting mail and other essential tasks on the homestead. Suitcases and camping gear need to be packed.
Since this is our first trip towing a camping trailer, the preparations were magnified. The fact that this was an "as is" used, very small trailer meant renovations were in order and, of course, a few of the renovations were not completed until the last day.
Since this was to be a six-week-long camping trip, our dog Oscar accompanied us. This meant additional preparations, such as outfitting a travel crate and a veterinary certificate, since we would be entering & leaving Canada several times on our way to and from Alaska.

We left Dassel the morning of June 7, our Subaru Forester towing a small 30-year old fiberglass trailer that measured approx. 6 feet wide by 11 feet long; with the hitch, spare tire & tow bar, it was 13 feet long. Not exactly what most people consider a modern RV. Barely enough room for us and our dog Oscar, who spent most of his time in a kennel in the back of the Subaru.

1. 

   Overnight campsite on a reservoir south of Saskatoon

   After spending the first night at Devils Lake North Dakota, we crossed into the wheat fields of Saskatchewan and spent the second night along a lake near Saskatoon. We faced a head wind much of the time heading west and could only manage 350-400 miles a day, towing the trailer and taking time to make & break camp. We also faced issues with service stations not taking our credit & debit cards, because we had neglected to notify our banks that we would be leaving the country. That got resolved the next day after a few panicky phone calls.
   
   

   

   
   The next day we crossed the Alberta oil fields and observed a lot of new "boom town" construction. Late on our third day, we drove into the foothils of the Canadian Rockies. We camped west of Edmonton.
   The next day was cloudy, with thundershowers approaching across the peaks. We crossed into northern British Columbia.
   
   
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3. The Alaska Highway, formerly known as the Alcan Highway, begins at Dawson Creek, B.C. Originally constructed by the Army Corps of Engineers as a land route supply chain for U.S. and Canadian forces during World War II, it was hastily built in a single season as a rough, one-lane, dirt-and-gravel track through hundreds of miles of rugged wilderness. The Allies feared that Japanese submarines might take and block the few fragile seaports which led into the Yukon and Alaskan interiors and thus cut off critical bases at Fairbanks and other Alaskan locations. Parts of the road follow old Native American trails.
   
   The route, code named “ALCAN” was opened to the public in 1949 as the Alaska Highway. It remains the only continuous land route between Alaska and the lower 48 states. Even today, roads cannot be built across and along most of the British Columbia and Alaskan coasts because of the presence of glaciated icefields in the coastal mountain ranges. Only a few high road passes exist between the coast and the interior. It is impossible to connect the coastal communities by roads because icy glaciers extend down to the sea in the steep, mountainous terrain. Also, it is difficult to transport goods by sea year round, except through the inside passage, which has only two access points to the interior, at Haines and Skagway, AK. Even the capital city of Juneau is accessible only by air and sea.
   
   
   
4. Taiga forests of black and white spruce and impressive mountain vistas follow the route. Our first night at Buckinghorse Creek, June 10, we awoke to thick frost on the ground.
5. The highway was not completely paved until the 1970s, and remains a two-lane highway in fairly good condition. Sections are rough and full of sinkholes and depressed trenches due to the effects of permafrost. Traffic is not heavy and several times we crossed paths with other tourists we met along the way.

   

   Alaska Highway in British Columbia

   
   
   
6. After we began our drive up the highway, we started seeing wildlife besides deer, including this mother black bear and her cubs.
   
   
    Other wildlife we saw on our trip included bison, moose, elk, foxes, grizzly bears and a lynx. We did not see caribou or wolves, but they are also in the area.
   
7. We also saw mountain sheep, including these curly-horned “stone sheep” with a death wish who were on the highway.
   
   The highway threads through 1,400 miles of wilderness, with only a few connecting roads.
   
   The first couple hundred kilometers of the highway passes through several timber, mining and oil well and processing areas. We saw labor camps, construction sites and lots of heavy trucks.
   
   Then the highway passes through Muncho Provincial Peak in British Columbia, where we saw wildlife and beautiful vistas. 

8. 

   Muncho Provincial Park, British Columbia

   
   
   
9. Along the highway are numerous historic “milepost” markers. In addition, there are modern kilometer markers. Over the years, the highway has also been re-routed and shortened in some places.

   

   Alaska Highway Roadhouse at Contact Creek, B.C.

   The government contracted with private parties to operate roadhouses along the highway, to service and supply vehicles and personnel. Some of them remain open, but many are now in disrepair. This roadhouse at Contact Creek is typical, with gas and diesel pumps, a small cafe or convenience store and a few basic motel rooms. Many campgrounds are primitive, so large, self-contained RVs are the preferred method of travel, although we saw a surprising number of tents. Drinking water is not available in all campgrounds, so we discovered that we needed to bring our own or boil stream water.

10. 

    Liard Hot Springs, B.C.

    
    
11. We tried to stay at a place with showers every two-to-three days, but those campgrounds tended to be more expensive and were not as scenic. Liard Hot Springs was a welcome stop for the residents of our little camper.
    
    
    The hot springs create warmer temperatures in the area, creating a haven for orchids and other rare mountain flora and fauna. Moose also like the lusher vegetation, we spotted a young bull while walking back from the springs.
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13. After two days in British Columbia, we crossed into Yukon Territory at Watson Lake. Early Alcan Highway travelers put up signs to show that they'd managed to make it that far, and the tradition continues. There are more than 78,000 signs from all over the world in the signpost forest at the gateway to the Yukon. We did not bring a sign, so we did not leave one, but, we spotted several from Minnesota, including this one at right from  Gordon & Lois Diers of Howard Lake. We ate our picnic lunch on the grounds of the "signpost forest."
    
    
    
14. Occasionally we took a short side trip to view a scenic waterfalls or rapids. Not all side roads are suitable for travel when wet or by trailers.

    

    The Yukon River near Whitehorse, Y.T.

    
    
15. We crossed the legendary Yukon River at Whitehorse, former boomtown of the Alaska gold rush & now a regional center. Rivers in this area are turquoise in color.
    
    
    
16. After Whitehorse, we drove over a pass into Yukon's Kluane Range. This range of 6,000-8,000-foot mountains fronts another range, the St. Elias Mountains, which are twice as high and cannot be seen from the highway most days. No roads access the St. Elias Mountains, which include Canada's three highest peaks, only a couple hundred feet lower than Mt. McKinley in Denali Park in Alaska. The only way to get back there is to hike for days or fly.
    
    
    
17. Here's a view of the Kluane Range from Haines Junction, Yukon, a tourist center for Kluane National Park, which includes the glaciated wilderness of the tall St. Elias peaks. It was overcast, so we could only see the front ranges. We headed due north along the eastern edge of these ranges from here, then headed west toward the eastern border of Alaska, another 175  miles or so up the highway.

    

    St. Elias Mountains, east of Beaver Creek, Y. T.

18. As we headed north, the landscape became bleaker, with shorter, spindlier trees and permafrost. Sinkholes and trenches ran across and along the highway pavement, making it very treacherous for any vehicle, even a four-wheel drive, and especially one towing a trailer. About 130 miles north of Haines Junction, Bob stopped to check the underside of our vehicles and discovered that the frame of our little trailer was starting to crack.

    

    Lake Creek, Yukon Territory

    
    
19. We slowly drove about four miles to this primitive campsite along Lake Creek. We were joined there overnight by a man who was riding his bicycle from Bend, Oregon, to Anchorage. He had been on the road for a month & ate supper with us. The next morning, Bob unhitched the trailer and drove to Beaver Creek, about 50 miles up the highway on the Alaskan border, to try to find a welder to repair our trailer. Oscar and I stayed at the campsite and got the trailer cleaned and reorganized. The persistent song of a Swainson's Thrush kept us company. I was nervous about grizzly bears and moose, but saw none.

    

    Alaska Highway east of Beaver Creek, Y.T.

20. Bob returned early that afternoon, having driven down this highway with a 12-foot length of steel tubing sticking out of the rear of the Subaru. Despite his anxiety, the scenery was so spectacular, he took this photo through the windshield as he traveled.

    

    Reinforcing the trailer at Lake Creek

    
    
21. Using jacks and a small ax, we pounded the tubing under the trailer to reinforce it, then secured it with chains that Bob had gotten from the Beaver Creek welder. After it was secure, we drove slowly to Beaver Creek. Since Carl had broken his hand and could not do any actual welding, we checked the jerry-rigged reinforcement, found it secure, and proceeded across the border to Tok, Alaska, about 125 miles up the road. We called ahead to a welder there, then found an ATM and paid Carl for the supplies. Carl had given Bob the materials earlier on the basis of a handshake and exchange of first names.

    

    Chris Marshall's welding shop in Tok, AK

    
    
22. We arrived in Tok, a tourist supply and native village area, late Saturday evening, and camped at an RV park that was owned by the welder's family, next door to this welding shop. We camped beside a group of Athabaskan Indians who had been picking morel
    
    mushrooms in the forest. They slept in small tents, covered by a series of tarps hung through the trees. Almost all the tent encampments we saw in Alaska featured an over-canopy of tree-suspended tarps for extra rain protection. We enjoyed our visit with the old hippie Chris who operated this establishment; he spent much of his Sunday welding the tube to the frame of our trailer and installing another, smaller, reinforcing tube along the other side of the frame. Meanwhile, I stocked up on groceries and did laundry and FINALLY found a place that still sells block ice for our cooler instead of those quick-melting cubes. We left Tok about 2 p.m.
    
    
    
23. It was only an hour's drive to the end of the Alaska Highway at Delta Junction, where we saw the eastern edge of the Alaska Range. At the intersection, we spotted a huge trailer RV in the road, with a wheel broken off. Some people have worse repairs than ours after traveling the Alaska Highway.
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    

    

    Aleyskia Pipeline crossing the Tahoma River

    
    
24. There is no direct paved route from eastern to central Alaska, so we looped north through Fairbanks. Part of it is a four-lane highway. En route we saw the Aleyskia oil pipeline as it crossed the Tahoma River.
    
    

    

    overlook of Alaska Range near Fairbanks, AK, looking south

25. By the time we got to Fairbanks, there was no time to sightsee if we hoped to make it to Denali National Park. We stopped long enough to fuel up and buy a six-pack of Alaskan Ale, then headed southwest toward the park. En route, we stopped at this overlook of the Alaska Range. There we met a man who was returning to Fairbanks after a week at a base camp on Denali, hoping to ascend it. His party gave up since it was stormy with temps as low as minus 17—in June. Fairbanks lies in a plateau north of the Alaska Range. Its rivers empty, about 50 miles north of the city, into the Yukon.

    

    Savage River Valley, Denali National Park, AK

    The highway to Denali was under construction, with delays. We saw several moose, and did not arrive at Denali Park until after 10 p.m. But this was a week before the summer solstice, so the sun was still above the horizon. A sign informed us that all campgrounds were full, but we were so late that a few tourists had cancelled, so we got a spot 12 miles further into the park. At twilight, we drove up a winding road to the Savage River campground in this valley. Walking back from the washhouse at 1 a.m., we had no need for a flashlight. It remained soft twilight until the sun peaked above the horizon again at 2:30 a.m.
    
    
    
26. It was hard to sleep under continuous light—Bob said that I should have sewed black instead of white curtains for the trailer—but we were tired enough to doze. The next morning we hiked around our surroundings, wearing jackets & flannel shirts in mid-June. Clouds covered some of the peaks. Oscar enjoyed drinking from a stream running through this glacial melt wash.
    
    
    
27. Later that day, Bob was walking toward the washhouse when our neighboring tenter told him, “Watch out for the moose.” He looked up and was surprised to see this young female grazing right in front of him. The neighbor said, "You can run from a moose," but my 70-year-old husband thought he would not attempt that feat. Instead he froze in place, hoping that the moose would think he was only a stick.
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
28. Whenever the moose would look away to graze, like this, Bob would edge closer to the neighbor's car until he was standing behind it.
    
    
    
    
    
29. Later that day, Amy got a photo of this guy from the window of the campground shuttle bus. He may have been Bob's mooses's boyfriend.
    
    
    
    
    
30. The next day, we moved our trailer to a site at a lower elevation (our Savage River spot had been pre-reserved by someone else.) Bob & Oscar napped while Amy took a five-hour twilight back country bus tour up a narrow gravel road into the high country.

    

    Glacial melt impressions, Denali

    
    
31. I would recommend an evening tour during the summer solstice, if you want to take pictures. The lighting is great and the bus was less than half full. Most tourists opt for the day trips.
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
32. We saw quite a bit of wildlife, including this young moose,
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
33. Alaska's state bird, the willow ptarmigan. Here's the female
    
    
    
34. And the male ptarmigan. Both sexes of this partridge-type bird turn completely white in the winter. The male retains a white breast year round.
    
    
    
35. We also saw this mother grizzly. She appeared to be nursing the cub; we could see only the tops of their heads in the tundra.
    
    
    
36. The bus crossed Polychrome Pass, where the late sun brought out beautiful colors on the mountain peaks.
    
    
    
37. If you look carefully at the center of this side of the pass, there are two white Dall sheep grazing on the rocks.

    

    Tolkat River Valley, Denali National Park, AK

38. Arctic river valleys are wide and covered with extensive fields of gravel washed down from the glaciers. This is the Tolkat River in the tundra of the high country.
    
    
    
39. Denali is an Athabaskan Indian word meaning “the Tall One.” It is a group of peaks so high that it creates its own weather systems. The peaks in this photo are along the Tolkat River in the back country. That day the weather varied from occasional light showers to spots of sun. We occasionally saw tall peaks that are often hidden in the clouds.
    
    
    
40. The clouds cleared and there stood both of the highest peaks of Denali, the taller one is called Mt. McKinley, in all of its glory. Two-thirds of the visitors to the park don't see this.
    
    
    
    
    
41. My final closeup of Denali before returning to civilization.