North Face Lodge

Posted on September 8, 2017 by Cindy

at the park entrance

Last February I was researching a place to stay inside Denali National Park. I had read that the best place to see wildlife is as deep into the interior as visitors can go. There is only one road into the park, and it’s 92 miles long. The first 15 miles is open to car traffic, but the next 77 is open only to the buses that ferry almost 600,000 visitors a year in and out. With stops for wildlife viewing and other necessities, these buses don’t average much more than 10 mph on a bumpy, gravel, single-track road. I started thinking: 92 miles at 10 mph—the drive could take nine hours in one direction! I planned on visiting the park every day for four days, and I had no intention of living on a bus. We were going to have to stay in the park.

a warm welcome at North Face Lodge

There are only three places to stay inside the park, and one involves cabins without plumbing. Scratch that—an outhouse down a dark path on a cold, windy night was not in my plans either. We chose the North Face Lodge, the camp’s sister lodge just down the hill. I read something about guided hikes on the website. Not sure where, when, or how that would work, but if it didn’t suit our needs, we could always do our own thing.

a fireside chat before breakfast

We discovered that the lodge had our entire four-day adventure planned down to the personalized napkin pins. We were met at the park entrance, assigned to a bus, relieved of our luggage, and welcomed aboard—along with 30-some other people. The 17 rooms at the lodge would be occupied for four days by the same group of people. Everyone arrives on the same day and leaves on the same day. We were greeted at the lodge by two energetic, young hosts who, over the course of our four-day visit, told us where we needed to be next, and what we had the option of doing there. They were supported by a whole passel of staff who rotated through various tasks: naturalists, guides, bus and van drivers, cooks, servers, gardeners, dishwashers, housekeepers, and more. The lichen expert may be your bus driver/hiking guide one day, and the next morning she’s serving you stuffed French toast. They were an incredible team, so enthusiastic about spending their summer in the great outdoors.

personalized napkin pins defined our social groupings

We were delighted to be part of this little family. We ate our meals together, and at each meal we were seated with someone we hadn’t had a chance to talk to yet. Each day after breakfast we chose our own level of adventure: strenuous, moderate, or foray. Or we could choose to stay at the lodge and hike their nature trails, bike, canoe, or just sit by the fire and read. Selecting our own tempo provided a different way of mixing us up. After finishing a moderate hike on the tundra the first day, we were a bit envious of the forayers who did less walking and more riding around in vans to carefully selected locations where large mammals were known to hang out. So the second day we chose to foray, and we had an opportunity not only to see wildlife, but also to get to know a different group of people. Normally I like to call the shots about what we do and when we do it, but this was so well orchestrated and so congenial that I felt a bit sentimental on the day we departed. What a marvelous group of people—both guests and staff—and what an enjoyable way to share a common passion! I’m going to miss them. Sometimes it’s fortuitous not to know what you’re getting into.

Denali Drive-in

Posted on September 7, 2017 by Cindy

The drive in to Denali National Park started as a typically overcast Alaskan day. The rain drizzled down the bus windows as we made our way from the park’s entrance into the interior. But the rain didn’t dampen our spirits. Our eyes were glued to the landscape, scanning for anything that moved. This park is the most likely place to see Alaskan wildlife in its natural habitat, the reason 30-some strangers had boarded a bus to spend four days together in the wilderness. “It’s snowing!” the bus driver announced. We readjusted our focus and discovered that, indeed, those raindrops had turned into fat, icy snowflakes. The first of September and the first snow of the season on the park road (approximately 2000 feet above sea level).

As the skies cleared through the afternoon, we could see a thin dusting of snow–termination dust, they call it–on the Alaska Range foothills. The powder on the donut, so to speak. Some day soon these hills, and the tundra below them, will be a white wonderland.

By the time we stopped for our picnic dinner, around 4:00, the sun was shining so brilliantly we had to don hats and sunglasses and remove layers of jacket. We gazed across the east fork of the Toklat River at the frosted foothills, a stunning backdrop against the reddish glow of the tundra. We had been so intent on finding wildlife that we neglected to notice the beauty around us. Mother Nature had to wake us up a bit. I’m sure she had a good laugh over that one.

Denali Bark Rangers

Posted on September 5, 2017 by Cindy

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

Talkeetna

Posted on August 31, 2017 by Cindy

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%

Posted on August 30, 2017 by Cindy

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

Posted on August 30, 2017 by Cindy

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

A conservation success story

Posted on August 25, 2017 by Cindy

wood bison at Alaska Wildlife Conservation Center

The global population of wood bison, a bigger cousin of the plains bison we know in the Lower 48 and the largest land mammal in North America, was wiped out in the 19th century–or so naturalists thought until they discovered a small herd in Canada’s Yukon Territory in 1957. In 2003 conservationists were able to isolate 13 disease-free bison from the herd and ship them to the Alaska Wildlife Conservation Center (AWCC), which we visited today, with the intent of bringing the animal back to one of its native habitats. In 2005 wood bison calves were born at the Center, the first in Alaska in over 100 years, and by 2015 a herd of 130 was released from the Center into its indigenous grazing ground in the Yukon River area, some 300 miles west of Anchorage. That spring 15 calves were born in the Alaskan wild. The herd will continue to be monitored, but so far they are thriving.

muskox

Muskoxen, another species hunted to extinction in Alaska, were also restored to the their natural habitats in northern Alaska. Thirty-four muskoxen were shipped to Fairbanks from Greenland in 1930, and later released into the wild. Today there are over 5000 wild muskoxen in Alaska, thanks to conservation efforts.

Besides supporting the repopulation of native Alaskan species, the AWCC serves as an orphanage and hospital to animals that are abandoned or injured and cannot be released back into the wild. What a remarkable organization!

Adonis, an eagle whose left wing had to be amputated after a gunshot wound

Kobuk, a bear cub rescued last year after losing his mother. He’s eating a popsicle: fireweed (wildflower), dog food, and blood. Yum!

Reindeer are not indigenous to Alaska. They were brought over from Siberia in the 19th century to provide Inuits with a winter source of food.

wolf on the roof of his shelter

Finally got to see a moose, although not quite in the wild. Isn’t he handsome?

Port Orford

Posted on October 8, 2016 by Cindy

view from Port Orford Headland

Very aggressive itinerary on our relocation from Gold Beach to Newport. 185 miles on the Oregon Coast Highway (US 101). It takes approximately four hours just to drive it, but we had stops to make—important stops. This is one of the most scenic stretches of the Oregon coast. Only the most serious players qualified.

First stop: Port Orford Heads State Park. Now, don’t laugh at the State Park title. In Florida, a state park is any scrub palmetto with a fire ring next to it. Oregon state parks are worthy of national park status by a Floridian’s standards. In Oregon, you can pitch your tent next to the Pacific Ocean, or a waterfall, or a volcano, or the Cascadia Subduction Zone. (Just kidding. In Oregon it’s illegal to camp where tectonic plates collide. Some environmental thing, I guess.) State parks in Oregon are very cool.

Nellie’s Cove from Port Orford Headland

So, back to Port Orford. The headlands alone are worth the short hike, but as we gazed out at the Pacific from our incredible vantage point we spotted gray whales frolicking in the kelp beds below, getting their fill of krill. That alone would have made my day. I have never seen whales without paying a minor fortune, dressing up in a very unflattering one-piece neon-yellow suit, and getting bounced around in a 26-foot Zodiac for three hours. Yes, the orcas were amazing, but that was one step above Sea World compared to discovering whales on your own.

gray whale off Port Orford

There’s the tail!

Then we saw the seals, or sea lions. I would like to know the difference, but the Oregonians I have asked can’t tell me. They mumble something about the color. All I know is there are two varieties of each: harbor and elephant seals, and California and Steller sea lions. So we saw some of those, just lying around on the rocks in the sun like slugs. I’ve felt that way after a very large meal, only instead of a wet, slippery rock, I prefer an overstuffed sofa. But I get the sun thing. I only wonder if their dermatologists know how much time they spend on that rock.

seals or sea lions?

And then Marcus spotted a ginormous four-legged mammal grazing on the ridge a quarter-mile away, its profile so perfectly silhouetted against the sky that I expected to hear David Attenborough describing the autumnal dietary habits of Cervus canadensis roosevelti, the Olympic elk often seen in these parts. It had to be an elk for us to be able to see it so clearly on the ridge at that distance. We hurried down the trail, hoping to get a closer look. And we did! It was a common mule deer. Dang! Must have been a light and mirrors thing. I think I saw her snicker as we moved on.

Cervus canadensis roosevelti?

Nope! Mule deer.

So a short hike on our itinerary turned into a wildlife display that took half the morning because, frankly, I had a hard time tearing myself away. Some of the best things happen when you least expect them. Just be ready to abandon the plan and go with the moment.

Crater Lake

Posted on October 2, 2016 by Cindy

We had a stunningly gorgeous day to explore Crater Lake National Park. Crater Lake is in the caldera of a volcano, Mount Mazama, that erupted 7700 years ago. Once the magma chamber inside the volcano was empty, the mountain top collapsed into the chamber creating the caldera. Rain and snow filled the caldera over the centuries to form the lake; there are no rivers, streams, or springs that flow into it. At 1943 feet deep, it is the deepest lake in the United States and the ninth deepest in the world. The extreme depth accounts for the sapphire-blue water.

Here’s a tip: When you enter the park, whether it’s from the north or southwest entrance, drive along the East Rim Drive first. For some reason, everyone wants to see West Rim Drive first, despite heavy traffic backups. We had the East Rim almost to ourselves.

Here’s a sampling of what we saw.

Newberry National Volcanic Monument

Posted on September 28, 2016 by Cindy

You can’t visit the Cascade Mountains without paying homage to the volcanoes, active and inactive, that make up the mountain chain from British Columbia south to northern California. Newberry Volcano is only one of many, but the national park is so well done that it’s worth your while to stop in here to learn a bit about the entire mountain range. Not only does the Lava Lands Visitor Center have an incredible display describing the Cascadia Subduction Zone that causes all this volcanic activity, but the grounds, which cover 50,000 acres, encompass the volcano, two volcanic alpine lakes, cinder cones, both obsidian and basaltic lava flows, and the longest lava tube (one mile) in Oregon, and miles of hiking trails to explore. Love this park! Just wish we hadn’t arrived so late in the day. It’s worth a full day of hiking and exploration.