Category Archives: Alaska

Denali Bark Rangers

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the dogs resting on their shelters

We had an hour or so to kill before catching our bus into Denali National Park, so we headed over to the park’s kennels to check out the dogs. Denali is the only park in the US National Park Service to employ sled dogs.

Before Harry Karstens became the first superintendent of Mount McKinley National Park in 1921, he was a mail musher—delivering mail via dog sled as far north as Fairbanks, south to Valdez, and west to Kantishna, now the terminus of the 92-mile road that traverses the park. Harry was chosen for the job because he knew the terrain and how to deal with the elements. And he recognized that he couldn’t protect over two million acres in winter without sled dogs. He hired rangers and assigned each an area of the park to patrol for poachers who were killing off the wildlife. Each ranger was given a sled and seven dogs from the park’s kennels, developed by Karstens himself.

The Denali National Park kennels are still going strong. Today poaching is not such a problem, but the park was tripled in size in 1980 and dogs are a necessity to cover all that acreage in winter. Currently there are 35 Bark Rangers, all Alaskan huskies. Each year a new litter is added to the crew and the most senior dogs are retired and put up for adoption.

 

These dogs love to run and live to work. They were marvelous to watch as they pulled a wheeled sled around a gravel track for our enjoyment—and theirs! The dogs get so excited about being put to work that their human handlers have to “put them in two-wheel drive” to hitch them to the sled. They say that if they let the dogs approach on all fours, their enthusiasm could cause injury. The dogs are strong, especially around the neck and shoulders, and they have been trained from their puppy days to “hop to it” on their back legs. It’s the most natural thing in the world to them.

Go, dog, go!

 

Whoa, dogs!

 

Koven enjoying a chew toy for a job well done

 

Clove has a surprise in her shelter.

 

Three-week-old puppies–seven of them!

 

my favorite, an adorable female named Story

Off the grid

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Mountains? What mountains?

Off the grid we go in search of Denali. We’ll be in the National Park for four days without internet, but stay tuned. I’ll give you a report on the other side.

Talkeetna

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Main Street, Talkeetna

Talkeetna lies between Anchorage and Denali National Park at the confluence of three rivers: the Susitna, the Talkeetna, and the Chulitna. Its name means “where the rivers join” in the native Athabascan language. At one time it was an important camp for the Athabascan tribes who congregated here in summer to catch and dry fish for the long Alaskan winter. “Na,” we found out today, means “river,” which is why we see it in so many Athabascan geographical names. Rivers were a source of life.

The town had a brief stint as a mining camp at the beginning of the 20th century, but the real boon—and one of the primary reasons it’s on the tourist map today—was the railroad. As with so many railroad construction camps that popped up along the tracks, Talkeetna grew from camp to village when railroad workers, drawn to the beauty of the place, chose to stay and plant roots. There are now about a thousand year-round residents. The population swells to around 3000 in summer.

Denali with the mighty Susitna River in the foreground

It’s easy to understand why people who come to visit choose to stay. The view of the Alaska Range on a clear day is breathtaking. And then there’s The Great One, Denali, that calls to professional climbers all over the world. The National Park Service ranger station in Talkeetna is the first hurdle potential climbers have to clear on their journey. Rangers ensure they are adequately prepared for what they are about to encounter. And once prepared, Talkeetna is where they hang out until the weather clears enough for them to be flown to the first base camp, usually on Kahiltna Glacier at 7200 feet. The ascent and descent typically take around three weeks. This year, in the short climbing season from April to July, 1189 people went up the mountain—and 1189 returned. Only 495 successfully reached the summit.

Obviously, we aren’t planning to climb the mountain. We stopped off on our way to Denali to see the cute little town that some claim was the inspiration for the 1990s television show, Northern Exposure.

the only stop sign in town

 

cute shop!

 

This shop sold nothing but salmon-oriented art. Beautiful stained glass!

 

Cute li’l cabin–love the moss growing on the roof!

 

Our li’l cabin, the historic Black John’s cabin built in 1933 by a miner/trapper.

I don’t recognize fictitious Cicily, Alaska, in Talkeetna, but we did get to stay in our very own little log cabin.

Cozy!

The 30%

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Denali, The Great One

As we rounded the bend into Talkeetna on our train ride from Anchorage, we saw this, putting us in the rare 30% of travelers who come to see Denali and actually do. Why is it so unusual to see the mountain? Denali, at 20,320 feet above sea level, is a cloud magnet. Like a boulder in a stream, the air currents and moisture swirl and dance around the mountain creating its own personal weather system. The local Athabascan tribe did not call it The Great One for nothing.

Denali or Mount McKinley? It is Denali, once again. President Obama officially restored its original Athabascan name on a visit here in 2015. Seems only right. About 10,000 years after the Athabascans named it, an American gold miner started calling it Mount McKinley in order to get the attention of presidential candidate William McKinley whose political campaign endorsed the gold standard as the basis of our economy. Even though he won the election, McKinley had no claim to the highest peak in North America. The Athabascans, who had revered it for millennia, did. Welcome back, Denali!

Alaska Railroad

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We had beautiful weather for our trip from Anchorage to Talkeetna aboard the Alaska Railroad. The Railroad has an interesting history. In 1912, the US government was looking for a reliable, all-weather mode of transportation from the port of Seward to Fairbanks, in Alaska’s interior–a replacement for the arduous dog-sled routes. Today’s 500 miles of track was pieced together from earlier, independent railroad ventures that were financially unsuccessful.

In 1985, the state of Alaska bought the railroad from the US government, making substantial improvements and updates to a tired network. The Alaska Railroad is unique in the US in that it carries both passengers and freight. It connects to the Lower 48 and Canada not by land but by rail barge, from Whittier on the south coast to either Seattle or Prince Rupert, British Columbia.

eagle on the prowl

In addition to the usual crew aboard the train, the Railroad provides a tour guide who points out interesting sights and facts along the way and is always on the lookout for wildlife. Great trip!

trumpeter swans summering in Alaska

Flattop Mountain

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view of Anchorage from Flattop Mountain

Great views of Anchorage and the Knik Arm from Flattop Mountain today. Okay, the weather wasn’t the best, but it was typical for Alaska. I would gladly take a bad-weather day today in trade for the gorgeous day we had on our bike ride two days ago. You can’t pick the weather, but you can check the forecast and plan accordingly!

Flattop Mountain, on the right–a strenuous hike with elevation gains we weren’t prepared to make

Bearfest?

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I’ve developed a fondness for the Iditarod Trail since learning more about it in Seward. Prior to coming to Alaska, I thought the Iditarod was a sled dog race invented in the 1970s as a way to combat cabin fever. It’s just the kind of extreme winter sport an Alaskan would dream up. I find the history of the trail fascinating, especially its beginning as a discontinuous series of trails used by native tribes for everyday hunting and passage through the mountains, reminding me that Alaska’s 150-year-old American history pales in comparison to the history of its indigenous people which spans tens of thousands of years. These tribal trails were stitched together in the early 20th century by mushers who needed a continuous path to carry mail by sled from the ice-free harbor in Seward to the frozen gold mine camps of central Alaska.

You may have heard of Balto, the legendary sled dog who led the final leg of a critical run from Nenana to Nome. A deadly diphtheria epidemic had broken out in Nome in January 1925. The vaccine was transported by train from Seattle to Nenana, but the only way to get it to Nome was by sled. It took more than 20 mushers running relay almost 700 miles in a blizzard to deliver the goods. Balto kept the sled moving in near whiteout conditions. His handler, Gunnar Kaasen, said that at times he couldn’t see his hand in front of his face.

Today we were in Eagle River hiking part of the Crow Pass Trail, the section of the Iditarod Trail that runs  through the Chugach Forest roughly from Mount Alyeska (Girdwood area) northward past Anchorage. I could imagine mushers making their way on the very trail we walked.

Crow Pass Trail, part of the Historic Iditarod Trail

There are so many varieties of mushrooms in this part of the Chugach Forest. We couldn’t get over the different colors, shapes, and sizes.

 

The nature trail we came here intending to hike has been closed for several weeks to allow the bears in the area to feast on salmon in the river. Salmon have been running in rivers and streams everywhere we’ve traveled in the last month, but they won’t be around much longer. Bears, although mostly herbivorous, need this opportunity to eat their fill of the food that will sustain them through their winter semi-hibernation.

But do they really need half the park to themselves? It makes me wonder what they are really up to and why we aren’t allowed to join them. I’m thinking they’re having one last wingding for the summer. Bearfest? I don’t know, but I was tempted to crash it. I think I heard live music.

Bearfest?

My hero

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the distinguished Captain James Cook

It was nice to see that the city of Anchorage has honored one of history’s most intelligent, courageous, and accomplished explorers. The first European to explore Alaska (searching for the elusive Northwest Passage between Europe and Asia), Cook not only accurately defined the coastline of Alaska, but cleaned up the map of the entire Pacific Ocean. And he found a cure for scurvy, saving the lives of countless sailors. He was a hero in his own time and was granted diplomatic immunity on the seas during wartime by all three adversaries: England, France, and the brand new United States of America.

I have read that Cook had only one failing, and that was his short temper. In February 1779, on his third and final voyage to the Pacific, he lost his temper and fired into a crowd of angry natives on the Island of Hawaii. Natives clubbed him and held him under the surf until he drowned. He was only 51 years old and, no doubt, had much more to contribute to the world.

To commemorate one of the world’s greatest navigators, the 150-mile stretch of water from Anchorage to the Pacific Ocean was named for him–Cook Inlet.

Back in Anchorage

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riding the Coastal Trail on a bicycle built for two

We’re back in Anchorage after our three-week explore of the Kenai Peninsula. It was tempting to take a day off our first, full day here–we had a busy week in Girdwood–but I checked the weather forecast, and our first day was going to be the best weather-day of the week. So we hit the trail, the Tony Knowles Coastal Trail, a brilliant 11-mile trail along the Knik Arm of the Cook Inlet. We chose to bike it, rather than hoof it, and opted for a tandem bike. It worked very well. I rode in the back, which meant I didn’t have to steer or shift gears while I navigated us through all the twists, turns, tunnels and train tracks on the trail. But I still provided power, especially on the hills. (Those spinning classes really paid off!) We covered a total of 20 miles–the trail and then some–and an elevation gain of 420 feet. Not bad for a day’s ride!

the Alaska Range across the Knik Arm

 

“I’ll be right with you. Just have to find my glasses.”

 

He looks like he’s made out of beads.

 

Finally! A moose in the wild, in Kincaid Park.

 

Lunch at the Lakefront Hotel, adjacent to the world’s busiest seaplane base, Lake Hood.

 

busy airport whether taking off from land or sea

 

Bikes and cars share the road with aircraft.

Winner Creek

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the snowcat bridge at Winner Creek

The trail from the Alyeska Hotel up to Winner Creek is rated easy to moderate, but there were enough ups and downs that we regretted not bringing our hiking sticks. Marcus broke his leg earlier this year, and he’s been trying to take it easy, especially with the downhills. But we took our time and were rewarded with this beautiful, mini-gorge where the creek is propelled between two rock walls. You can stand on a bridge over the cascading, blue water and watch it spin and dance over and around boulders on its way downstream. This pint-sized little gorge is so picture-perfect you want to scoop it up and put it in your pocket.

adorable gorge!

Just beyond the gorge is a hand tram that hikers can use to pull themselves across the creek. There’s nothing on the opposite bank except the tram terminus. The trail ends at the tram, so traversing the creek is only for the thrill of dangling above it. The tram hangs from a steel cable 100 feet above the creek. The height itself was not my issue; it was the open grate floor that allows you to see the creek rushing by below that kept me from taking the plunge, so to speak. But it was fun watching others do it.