RV lifestyles come in two major forms: seasonal full-time RV living and life on the road. The first can include a stationary setup in one location for fall and winter or winter and spring and a stationary setup in another location for the other two seasons. We’ve found that by combining the two types of RV lifestyles, with seven months on the road and five months in a single location, we get the best of both worlds. Nomad on the Move Most of the year, we travel the country to see destinations and visit loved ones along the way. As Bob likes to say, “Throw a dart at a map of the U.S., and we might be there.” He’s right, as our itinerary changes every year — sometimes on a monthly or daily basis. That’s one of the things we relish about RV life: the flexibility. If friends and family at an upcoming stop have to leave town suddenly, we can quickly change plans and reroute our course. If our planned travel day looks iffy because of rain and storms, we can pivot and stay put for a few more days or even a week. In this nomadic lifestyle, we typically move to a new location every week or two. In doing so, it becomes second nature for us to pack and close the trailer, hook it up to Gulliver, spend hours on the road, park, and set up camp. Lather, rinse, repeat. While in a location, we try to make a point to investigate our surroundings and get a feel for the area. That’s part of the adventure. Each stop holds a sense of intrigue and mystery. We immerse ourselves in the locality and try to find off-the-beaten-path things to do — as well as some popular things to do, such as visiting national and state parks. Seasonal Resident When we’re not moving every week, we live a completely different life. Bob equates it to taking off one jacket and putting on another, much like Mr. Rogers did. With months in one location and a reprieve from regularly packing and setting up the trailer, we enjoy more leisure and get comfortable in our home. We feel freer to leave things out, such as my puzzle table and in-process projects, and we notice bare spots that could use decoration. This can lead to accumulation creep, something we have to guard against. While stationary, we tend to live the way we would if we had a sticks-and-bricks home. Bob goes to the Commemorative Air Force three days a week to put his aircraft mechanic degree to work on WWII bombers, and I get into my daily work routine. We habitually frequent the grocery store, and our calendar fills up with activities and get-togethers. Being static also gives us ample time to address maintenance, issues, and needed upgrades on our truck and trailer. The Human Perspective Because we have traveling to look forward to when we’re stationary and an end of travel in sight when we grow weary of being on the road, we really do have the best of both worlds. It keeps life exciting and fun — as does meeting amazing people, which happens in both RV lifestyles. I think of the trucker we crossed paths with in Michigan, who graciously gave us diesel exhaust fluid (DEF) at a rest area when we were about to run out. Without that in our truck, it would have slowed to a painful 5 mph.
The trucker wouldn’t take money in exchange for the DEF, so I suggested we pay it forward. A few minutes later, another trucker pulled into the rest area with a flat tire and no way to fix it to move on. We offered the use of our 80-pound air compressor, happy to help. While we were assisting this second trucker, another RVer pulled up and asked if we needed help. We also met a young couple early in their RV life and were able to share some tips and advice. At a boondocking spot, fellow RVers gave us guidance based on their RVing experience. And another RVer lent us a water hose to add to ours so we could fill our water tank without moving our trailer. Stationary RVers are just as friendly and welcoming. We regularly exchange greetings and conversations with our seasonal neighbors. And they’re always quick to give us a hand if we need it, just as we’re eager to help them if we can. The RV community is one of people helping people. We’re thankful to be part of it. You might also like Confessions of a Full-Time RVer.
11 Comments
The red rocks of Moab, Utah, draw upward of 1.8 million visitors annually to take in their beauty. We had passed through once, in awe of the vibrant scenery around us — and of the number of people thronging the road. Despite the crowds, the city of 5,200 left us with a desire to return when we had more time to explore. The big attraction in Moab is Arches National Park, which beckons tourists to navigate its 76,519 acres in search of more than 2,000 sandstone arches. A drive through the park provides glimpses of a handful of the natural structures. Seeing the others requires hikes of varying lengths. In a 3.5-hour span with multiple stops, we lay eyes on about a dozen of the magnificent rock formations, in addition to petrified sand dunes and other captivating displays. The mesmerizing beauty left us in awe and hearkened back to a bygone era, documented at one point by petroglyphs on a rock. One thing we noticed missing from this national park that we’d encountered at others was wildlife — although Gulliver did get a not-so-secret admirer. Going on a Dino Hunt A lesser-known noteworthy aspect of Moab is its dinosaur history. In addition to a couple of museums, the city offers three dinosaur track sites, with imprints of massive wildlife of old. Mill Canyon Dinosaur Tracksite showcases fossilized dinosaur footprints preserved in limestone, protected by a boardwalk around the “stomping ground.” According to plaques at the site, algae covered the shallow lake, capturing the dinosaurs’ tracks before the water, mud, and algae dried up and hardened into limestone, with the prints intact. We saw 10 different kinds of tracks, representing dinos of varying sizes, from velociraptor up to brontosaurus. Thinking about the gargantuan creatures roaming the area made us feel small and gave us a completely different perspective on our surroundings. Wild Pterodactyl Chase Wanting to see a more impressive display, we headed to Copper Ridge Dinosaur Trackways and set out on Dino Flow Trail, which we believed to be 1.5 miles. Nearly 3 miles later, it had become quite evident I had taken Bob on a wild pterodactyl chase. After the trail meandered over multiple rises and around numerous bends, no track site came into view. We decided to cut our losses and turn around. Returning to the parking area, the actual location of the imprints became apparent. We had read that this location offered two areas of tracks. We didn't realize they both started at the same trail. Reviews said the site closest to the beginning of the Copper Mine Ridge trailhead wasn’t too impressive. The more alluring site lay 1.5 miles up the trail. Having already put 5 miles under our belts, we forwent the latter and settled for the first, finding it plenty awe-inspiring. We could actually stand in some of the enormous footprints and imagine the weight and size of the behemoths that made them. Picking a Bone Our dino hunt didn’t end there. The Moab area also offers a place to see fossilized dinosaur bones intact in hardened rocks, not in a museum. We headed to the Mill Canyon Dinosaur Bone Trail. A sign warning of soft sand and recommending only four-wheel-drive vehicles beyond that point stopped us in our tracks. Since Gulliver isn’t four-wheel-drive, we didn’t want to risk getting stuck in the soft sand like we had done in Traverse City, Michigan. It seemed we’d have to end our dino hunt. I reread reviews about the dinosaur bone trail and learned we weren’t the only ones who didn’t want to drive beyond the sign. Others had parked nearby and walked the half mile to the trailhead. We decided the additional 1-mile round-trip trek would be worth it. The walk through soft sand and over rocks confirmed we had made the right decision in not taking Gulliver down the path. Arriving at the Mill Canyon Dinosaur Bone Trail, we noticed paths in three different directions. Where were we to find the bones? We opted for the trail just past a visitor sign-in podium and encountered a plaque a few strides later. We had chosen wisely. Hardened Evidence Signs like the first were sprinkled along the trail, describing what to find in each area, with detailed information about where to look. Had it not been for the plaques, we wouldn’t have known the rock color variances we observed as we walked along a ridge were actually bones from giants that once walked the land. The fossils looked darker than the rocks in which they were wedged. More amazingly, they felt different from the rock surrounding them, lighter in weight like calcified bones. We saw and touched foot, toe, arm, leg, rib, and spine skeletal parts from sauropods — the generic name for plant-eating dinosaurs with long necks and tails that could span 20 to 112 feet in length. I found it hard to believe that a creature so large could survive on plants alone. We also observed bones from a meat-eating allosaurus with a max length of about 30 feet.
Playing paleontologist made our Jurassic adventure a fun and memorable experience. It also gave us a greater appreciation for prehistoric times, when colossal animals roamed the vast Earth. You might also like Exploring Valley of Fire State Park in Nevada. The state of Montana stretches across 147,000 square miles, encompassing Glacier National Park and numerous national forests. Its wide-open spaces offer panoramic views of the big sky, giving it the nickname “Big Sky Country” and making it a welcome sight after a summer in expansive Alaska. We had spent time in the 41st state on tour with the Commemorative Air Force, but we hadn’t visited with our fifth wheel. Wanting to put Montana on our RV map, we made a point to stop there for a week in Missoula, in the western part of the state. The scenic drive down from Canada took us around the enormous Flathead Lake and past wild bison, deer, and turkeys. Missoula features Fort Missoula, which dates back to 1877; Hiawatha Trail, a 15-mile downhill bike trail through nine train tunnels and across seven trestles (closed when we were there); breweries; museums; and a whole lot more. It’s famous for trout fishing, as well as a few other things you might not be aware of: 1. Smokejumping Missoula has a long history with firefighting and smokejumping, dating back to 1919, when the city started engaging in patrolling fires from the air over national forests in the western states. Since that time, the practice has progressed to include dropping teams of “smokejumpers” into areas near fires to fight them. We went to the Smokejumper Visitor Center for a tour to learn more about this fascinating aspect of Montana history and were not disappointed. Displays provided information and visuals about the equipment needed to parachute into a fire area to put it out. Jumpers, who sometimes land in trees instead of open spaces, have to carry more than 100 pounds of supplies with them for the first 24 hours. Modern parachutes provide more firefighter control than early models did, giving jumpers better chances of landing in open areas. Additional supplies, including firefighting tools and rations for 48 hours, are dropped in after firefighters reach their targets. The tour included walking through the working smokejumper facility and seeing where parachutes are packed, where firefighters sew their own gear, where parachutes are tested, and more. Part of the U.S. National Forest Service, the Smokejumper Visitor Center tour is free and well worth it if you find yourself in Missoula and have an hour to kill. 2. Mountain Flying Although Idaho holds the title for the first smoke jump, Montana is the birthplace of mountain flying. Missoula’s Museum of Mountain Flying pays homage to that heritage. Featuring aircraft, vehicles, displays, photos, and artifacts, the hangar honors and preserves the history of the Johnson Flying Service from the 1920s to the 1970s for a reasonable price: $4 for adults and $10 for a family. The centerpiece of the museum is a 75-year-old restored and airworthy C-47 dubbed “Miss Montana.” Although the airplane never saw combat during WWII, it holds a special place in the hearts of many Montanas for its rich history in smokejumping — including the Mann Gulch Fire of 1949 — and transporting cargo and civilians. The plane also took part in the 75th anniversary of Normandy. You can even watch a film about the restoration process to make that happen. 3. Bison Roaming Another interesting thing to see in the Missoula area is the Bison Range. Montana’s wide-open spaces allow plenty of room for bison to roam. We made an hourlong trek outside the city to the range to check it out. A $20 per-vehicle fee gives visitors the option to drive the two-hour combined Mountain Drive and Prairie Drive or the out-and-back Prairie Drive alone. Unfortunately, we arrived too late to tour the higher Mountain Drive, where we can only guess more animals wandered closer to the road than they did on the Prairie Drive. Although we saw some bison and deer, the experience paled in comparison to how close we were able to get to wildlife on the Alaska Highway. Having grown up hearing about buffalo, we couldn’t help but wonder about the difference between bison and buffalo. You may be wondering too. Suffice it to say that any animal you come across in the U.S. that you think is a buffalo is actually a bison. Buffalo are native to Asia and Africa. Bison, characterized by a big hump on their backs, graze in North America and Europe. They’re also larger than buffalo. (Think water buffalo for comparison.) 4. Carousel Designing Carousels are common attractions around the world. What makes A Carousel for Missoula special is the story behind it — and its speed. It’s by far the fastest carousel I’ve ever ridden on. There’s a good reason they make you buckle in on your animal of choice.
Initiated by a Missoula cabinet maker, A Carousel for Missoula is a testament to volunteerism at its finest. Over a four-year period, the cabinet maker and several wood carvers, mechanics, painters, and artists donated more than 100,000 hours to create a masterpiece. The community got involved too. Schoolchildren collected more than 1 million pennies to pay for four ponies. Housed in a building downtown near Clark Fork River to protect it from the elements, the carousel delights children of all ages. Rides are $1 for children and $2 for ages 12 and up. You might also like Investigating Idaho, the Country’s 43rd State. After two days of hearing birds prance across our roof, we had had enough. I climbed on top of our fifth wheel to assess the damage. Surprisingly, I found nothing but a couple of bird droppings. So much for my birds-on-the-roof theory. Immersing myself in my work, I forgot about the noise disturbance. Later that day, however, we heard a chewing sound inside our trailer and froze to try to determine its origin. It seemed to be coming from the in-floor heater vents. We had eradicated a couple of mice earlier in the week. This new gnawing sounded louder and more damaging than mice, like the rat that chewed through the ABS pipe under the kitchen sink in our sticks-and-bricks house. That varmint caused much water damage and left us with a makeshift kitchen for about four months. It seemed evident we had an unwanted RV guest. Finding the Culprit Being parked in a campground in Alberta, Canada, surrounded by trees, birds, and squirrels, we concluded we had somehow acquired a squirrel. Having seen movies that portrayed squirrels jumping at people’s faces, the thought of finding the creature inside our rig put me on edge. After the chewing noise dissipated, we exited the trailer in search of potential entry points. Finding a few obvious places large enough for a small squirrel to pass through, we spent a couple of hours sealing them, believing the rodent had departed. The next day, a red squirrel perched in a tree outside our window, confirming our belief that it had vacated our rig. Looking directly at our window and baring its teeth, Twitchy, as we named the creature, loudly voiced his disapproval, chattering at us for several minutes. I wish I had snapped a picture of him then, but the squirrel scurried off before I got my camera ready. Planning for a Long-Term Stay We went outside to watch as Twitchy leapt from branch to branch and dashed down a tree trunk. He returned and bolted under our trailer. We bent down to see where he went and found no squirrel in sight. But then we heard him moving around inside the bottom of our rig, underneath the floor. Twitchy still managed to find a way in. While pounding on the exterior wall of the trailer and then the underbelly to try to encourage Twitchy to leave, Bob heard something move. It appeared the squirrel had stashed some precious cargo inside our rig in anticipation of the coming winter. We hoped the gnawing noises we had heard were from Twitchy chewing nuts or seeds he hid in the rig and not our pipes or wires. Thankfully, squirrels are transient creatures, storing goods in multiple holding places for the best protection from predators. Twitchy left our rig just as quickly as he had entered and moved on to another hiding spot. We heard Twitchy inside our rig again the next day, but by the time we left the campground the day after, all evidence of Twitchy’s presence with us had been erased — well, as far as we know. We couldn’t hear any nuts rolling around under our trailer floorboards from the cab of the truck.
Avoiding a Potential Mishap If the squirrel had truly taken up residence under our floor, getting him out would have proven challenging. It would have required cutting the protected underbelly of our rig to try to find the varmint, with no guarantee that we’d cut into the right spot. And if Twitchy had been in there for a while, he might try to get deeper into the rig, like into our living area. In our first four years of full-time RV living, we didn’t know squirrels could get inside an RV. After this encounter, I found an article that told the story of a squirrel that had chewed its way into a man’s RV living space. The same article gave tips to rid an RV of squirrels: apple cider vinegar, peppermint oil, or dryer sheets. We didn’t try any of those things because we weren’t sure where to put them, nor if they’d work. We didn’t think we’d see much wildlife after our return trip on the Alaska Highway. Clearly, we thought wrong. We’re thankful Twitchy didn’t do any obvious damage and that he’s in our distant past (pun intended). You might also like Attack of the Killer Cardinal. Trumpeter swans descend for landing, skiing across the water as they touch down. A moose wades into the lake past its knees to munch on aquatic plants, seemingly oblivious to anything around it. Ducks dip their heads into the water and disappear, popping up elsewhere. These are a few of the sights we were blessed to witness while boondocking in our fifth wheel RV in the great state of Alaska. We fell in love with the 49th state’s incredible beauty, serenity, and magnificence. Before we set out on our RV trip to Alaska, we wrote down five things we wanted to experience there: glacier calving, dog mushing, whale watching, northern lights, and the Arctic Ocean. We also thought it would be nice to observe a salmon run, catch some Alaska-size fish, and visit with family in the area. I’m proud to say we accomplished all those things in one truly amazing summer. Not all of the five “high-priority” items made it to our list of favorite things about our summer in Alaska, but we’re glad we experienced them. After much thought and consideration, we agreed these were our five favorites, in no particular order: 1. Trip to the Arctic Making a trek up the Dalton Highway to the Arctic Ocean was a truly unique experience. It took us through a snowy mountain pass, gave us a chance to witness the midnight sun, and exposed us to the tundra and native sounds. We enjoyed driving the isolated road, following the Alaska pipeline, and dipping in the frigid Arctic Ocean (just so we could say we did it). Our favorite part about this experience was staying in a hotel in Deadhorse and briefly immersing ourselves in the lives of pipeline workers. It gave us a greater appreciation for them and the hard work they do. 2. Remote Cabin With 571,000 square miles of land and a population of 733,583, according to the U.S. Census Bureau, Alaska is the least densely populated state, offering numerous opportunities for remote living. It’s not uncommon to meet someone there who has a cabin in the woods. The state even offers more than 300 remote cabins for public use, according to Alaska.org. Perhaps what’s most unique are the cabins that are only reachable by boat, seaplane, or snow machine (as snowmobiles are called in Alaska). It doesn’t get much more remote than that. We had the privilege of visiting one such cabin with my cousins. Having watched a number of survival shows, we felt like we were in a movie. We liked the adventure so much that we considered buying one of the cabins nearby. 3. Proximity to a Calving Glacier Alaska is home to around 100,000 glaciers, according to Alaska Kids. Of those, only 650 or so have been named. The named glaciers are generally easier to get to and see. We put eyes on Matanuska Glacier, Portage Glacier, and Worthington Glacier, among others. While observing the immenseness and mystery of Columbia Glacier, the largest in Prince William Sound, from about a quarter of a mile away, we watched it seemingly throw itself into the water below, creating a thundering crash and making waves. One section would tumble into the water. Many minutes would pass, and another section would fall. We spent about an hour at the glacier, making for an incredible experience. 4. Valdez Our glacier-calving encounter took place while on a boat tour from Valdez, an absolutely beautiful place. The more than two-hour drive into the city provides breathtaking views of mountains, glaciers, rivers, and waterfalls. That served as the “cake” of our wonderfully enjoyable time there. Viewing the salmon run, catching Alaska-size fish one after another, and taking the boat tour to spot aquatic wildlife and the Columbia Glacier were the icing. Camping with our back window overlooking Port Valdez gave us a nice, picturesque bonus. We’re really glad so many people we talked to raved about Valdez. 5. Northern Lights Experiencing the northern lights is a lifetime dream for many who aren’t privy to their seasonal wonder. The conditions have to be just right for the naked eye to capture this amazing phenomenon: darkness, clear skies, solar activity, and the right time and place. Seeing the lights is more common in some areas than others.
We’re super fortunate to have been able to witness the aurora borealis on our summer trip to Alaska. We nearly missed the spectacular display. In fact, we tried to catch the splendor again on a clear night two days after our first sighting, but two hours of watching the sky yielded nothing. Every time I think about the night we caught the natural light show, I can’t help but smile. It was a truly magnificent experience. In addition to these five favorite things about our summer in Alaska, we enjoyed gold panning, touring an ice museum, and seeing areas of the state that many tourists don’t visit. What a fabulous summer! You might also like Is a Trip to Alaska All It’s Cracked Up to Be? The wonder of the northern lights, or aurora borealis, has been captivating people for millennia. When electrically charged particles from the sun slam into gases in Earth’s upper atmosphere, they create sparks of colorful light. When billions of these collisions happen one after another, they make waves that look like they’re dancing. These dancing waves are most visible in northern latitudes, such as Alaska and Canada. I knew that seeing the northern lights during a summer visit to Alaska wasn’t likely. After all, you need darkness to witness this phenomenon, and it doesn’t really get dark in Alaska in the summer. But we watched a video in which an Alaska visitor glimpsed the northern lights one night in September on his way back home. We had planned to leave Alaska in September, so that gave me hope. Generally speaking, the best times to view the aurora borealis are between late August and mid-April on clear nights between 10 p.m. and 2 a.m. Third Time’s a Charm After two failed attempts to witness the northern lights while camped 20 miles south of Tok, Alaska, in late August, I didn’t have much hope of spotting them. I did my due diligence anyway and checked the weather forecast for a clear night for yet another opportunity. That chance came our first night out of Alaska, in Destruction Bay, Yukon. The forecast called for mostly clear skies between 11 p.m. and 1 a.m. Tired from a wind-induced, sleep-interrupted night before, I just wanted to go to bed for the night. Knowing this might be my last opportunity to see the spectacular display, however, I set my alarm for midnight. At 11:45 p.m., I woke up for some reason. Although tempted to go back to sleep, I decided to get up and peek out the windows. That way, I could return to bed for the night. With our bedroom slide closed for our overnight stop at a pullout off the highway, I had to crawl over Bob to get to the window, waking him in the process. Glimpsing out, I saw a full moon lighting up the night sky and the lake beneath it, seemingly nullifying my chances of viewing the aurora borealis. I decided to check another window anyway, facing what I thought to be north. All I saw there was a cloud with the moon reflecting off of its outer edges. As I stared at the cloud, I noticed a greenish hue. “I think I see them!” I told Bob. He looked and agreed we had spotted the northern lights. We went outside in our bare feet for a better view. As soon as we passed the front of our trailer and looked to our left, any doubt disappeared. Cloudy wisps of light emanated from the horizon, dancing in slow motion to create amazing shapes and sights. The longer we watched, the more the lights changed, stretching across the sky. A Divine Appointment After flashing a few pictures using the night sight setting on my phone for longer exposure, we returned to the warmth of the trailer. Still enamored, we continued peering out our northern-facing window, enjoying the light show that lasted about 15 minutes. Looking out the window I had originally peeked out showed no signs of the lights. Had I not awakened until my alarm went off, I would have completely missed the magnificent display. I believe God woke me up to see the amazing presentation I had been longing to witness, a reminder that he cares about the little things in our lives. I’m grateful I didn’t go back to sleep until my alarm went off. We had thought the sky had to be completely dark in order to see the northern lights, but the brightness of the moon busted that theory. It was as if our trailer created the dividing line between the full moon over an expansive lake and the aurora borealis shimmying across a starlit canvas: two pictures in one sky on the very same night. The spectacle left us in utter awe, huge smiles beaming across our faces. I found it difficult to sleep after that. What an amazing experience! I’m glad God woke me up when he did.
You might also like 5 Amazing Things to See on the Alaska Highway. You know the old saying, “If something sounds too good to be true, it probably is.” Having heard great things about Alaska and seen pictures of its magnificent beauty, you may be wondering if that saying applies to the 49th state. Alaska truly is an amazing place, with jaw-dropping scenery, wide-open spaces, and peaceful surroundings. It does have some negative characteristics, though, that you should be aware of if considering a trip to the Last Frontier. Mosquitoes You’ve likely heard the joke about mosquitoes being Alaska’s state bird. They’re not quite that big, but you can see them. The bountiful lakes, ponds, rivers, and creeks in the state give mosquitoes lots of places to lay eggs. We found mosquitoes to be the most plentiful and annoying during the month of June. The tiny creatures easily found their way into our rig. I had my arm outside the blankets while sleeping one night and woke up to numerous itchy welts on it. The two mosquito rackets* we invested in before our trip to Alaska came in quite handy to battle the pests. There’s something satisfying about hearing the insects fry. (That’s how bad they are.) The netting hoods* we purchased also helped when we spent time outdoors, as did the insect repellent wipes we bought. We got a plug-in bug trap later in the season. Because the population of mosquitoes had already subsided, we didn’t find the device super effective after only one night of use, but it did make for a great night light. Lack of Darkness Speaking of night lights, you don’t need them for many hours, if at all, during the summer months. Alaska is known as the Land of the Midnight Sun for good reason: Because of its position in the northern hemisphere, the state doesn’t get very dark in the summer. In Fairbanks in June, the sky never gets pitch black, although it does approach twilight for a couple of hours each night. After the summer solstice, the days start to get a tad shorter, especially if you head south. Many people struggle with the lack of darkness. We got used to going to bed with the sun still high in the sky. We pulled our room-darkening shades to give the trailer more of a night feel, and our bathroom skylight made a natural night light. Darkness seemed strange when I encountered it in San Francisco on a work trip a couple of months later. I had forgotten what it was like. Desolate Roads Alaska’s wide-open spaces allow plenty of room for people to spread out. Unless you’re near Anchorage or Fairbanks — or on the Kenai peninsula during the salmon runs — you’re not likely to run into much traffic. (You will, however, come across potholes and frost heaves.) On many roads, you can go for miles or hours without seeing or hearing another vehicle. Because of this desolation, you’re at the mercy of small-town service station workers, or good-samaritan passersby, if you do have a breakdown. We know because my cousin had an issue with his boat trailer after we met him in Glennallen to go to his remote cabin. After getting the boat and trailer towed to the sole service station in the area around 3 p.m. on a Friday, we didn’t leave with the trailer’s integrity intact until about 5 p.m. on Saturday, more than 24 hours later. Few Store and Restaurant Chains Service stations aren’t the only rarities in the Last Frontier. Store and restaurant chains are too. The only places you’ll find retail, food, and coffee chains in Alaska are in the big cities of Anchorage and Fairbanks and their suburbs. If you get a hankering for McDonald’s or Taco Bell while elsewhere in the state, you’ll likely be disappointed. Expect to see lots of mom-and-pop shops. Tok, for example, has a Thai restaurant and an American restaurant, and that’s pretty much it. We prefer those small-town establishments anyway because they give us a better taste, literally, of the areas we visit. You may or may not find a supermarket chain. We came across a Fred Meyer in Soldotna, a Safeway in Valdez, and an IGA in Glennallen. Alaska has its own grocery store chain, too: Three Bears Alaska has 12 supermarkets in the state. High Costs Expansiveness and unadulterated magnificence come at a price. Because everything has to be trucked, shipped, or flown into Alaska from a great distance, costs for groceries, restaurant meals, fuel, automotive parts, and practically everything else are expensive. Even with awareness of that, you may have sticker shock. Rain and Mud You will have rainy days in Alaska, especially in the coastal regions. We experienced many, which made for muddy messes inside and outside our trailer. A summer in Alaska is definitely not glamping. On a good note, rain in the 49th state is different from rain in the Lower 48. Alaska gets more drizzles than downpours. Because of that, it’s easier to do things outdoors even with “showers.” You just have to dress for the occasion.
That said, rain can ruin plans and visibility. A foggy, rainy morning limited our views on the wildlife glacier cruise we took in Valdez. We had a wonderful time on the tour anyway and were able to see quite a few things. When we moved to Valdez from Homer, the forecast called for rain all week. The weather changes quickly in Alaska, and we were blessed to enjoy multiple nice days in the city at the end of the Alaska pipeline. We’re glad we didn’t let the predicted outlook deter us. But don’t expect to get a suntan in Alaska. More often than not, you’ll likely be wearing layers to keep warm. There are pros and cons to everything. As far as we’re concerned, the positive attributes of Alaska far outweigh the negative. The state’s awe-inspiring grandeur is not too good to be true. In fact, some of Alaska’s seemingly unfavorable traits contribute to its allure. You might also like Can You Drive a Fifth Wheel on the Alaska Highway? * As Amazon Associates, we earn from qualifying purchases. About 75 miles north of Tok, Alaska, sits a small settlement known as Chicken. Wondering how it got its name? The village does not have a plethora of fowl. People don’t seem to be afraid (aka, “chicken”) to go there. So, why is it called Chicken? Truth be told, the settlers wanted to name the village for the abundance of what later became Alaska’s state bird but didn’t know how to spell ptarmigan. Someone suggested the name Chicken, and it stuck. Although known for chicken pot pie and chicken soup today, the village’s gold-mining history and legend lives on. Chasing a Dream In 1886, someone struck gold in the area and created a buzz. At one time, more than 700 miners panned the community’s streams, according to Travel Alaska. Nowadays, the year-round population hovers around 15 but can increase to about 50 in the summertime. Visitors can tour the Pedro Dredge (for a fee) and even take a stab at gold panning — for only $10 for two hours. Or, they can purchase gold-panning supplies and try their luck at the streams, just like in the old days. Since we had panned for gold in Fairbanks, we decided not to do so in Chicken. Getting There We hadn’t heard a lot about the small town of Chicken but were looking for something to do near Tok before heading back to the Lower 48, so we embarked on a day trip to the village. The drive on the Taylor Highway took about an hour and 45 minutes and didn’t offer much in the way of scenery. The narrow road is littered with potholes and frost heaves. Its sole purpose is to connect Chicken and Tok. The highway actually continues beyond Chicken, taking travelers into Canada and Dawson City (not to be confused with Dawson Creek). Many tourists enter Alaska through the Dawson City route. After driving the Taylor Highway in Gulliver, sans Tagalong, we’re glad we took the Alaska Highway instead. Exploring the Area Arriving in town to no cell service, we navigated to the first building we came to off the highway: the gift shop at the Goldpanner/Chicken Creek RV Park. We saw a cafe on-site but found it closed. The gift shop offered free flush toilets (most in the village were outhouses) and myriad T-shirts and souvenirs for sale. After perusing the inventory, we went outside to snap a picture of the two large chickens on display and wandered across the suspension Chicken Creek Bridge that spans the site of an old gold dredge. Finding Food With our tummies rumbling, we returned across the bridge to the truck and got back on the highway to find the rest of the town of Chicken. Airport Road, which we had passed en route to the gift shop, led us directly “downtown.” It consisted of three rickety, connected places of business: Chicken Mercantile Emporium, Chicken Creek Saloon, and Chicken Creek Cafe. We parked and headed into the cafe for costly counter service of good-quality food. Cinnamon rolls, brownies, and pies sat on the counter, tempting us to partake. We gave in to sharing a brownie after indulging in reindeer bratwurst and a cheeseburger, served on plastic gold pans. Our bellies full, we departed down the slanted floor to check out the rest of downtown. We found the uneven floor in the mercantile even more pronounced but enjoyed browsing the store’s eclectic assortment of Alaska- and chicken-themed souvenirs nonetheless. We couldn’t leave without making a deposit at the Chicken Poop, a collection of outhouses on the property. Hunting for a Statue Having seen a large display chicken when researching the small village before our arrival, we set out to find it. A quarter-mile drive from downtown led us right to it. This particular chicken had been made out of high school lockers, leaving it rusty. Across a dirt road from the chicken stood Pedro Dredge, which operated in Chicken from 1959 to 1967 and mined 55,000 ounces of gold, according to the Chicken Gold Camp & Outpost. The outpost gift shop (this one with a level floor) featured a coffee shop and a wider variety of chicken- and Alaska-related offerings. It also exhibited old artifacts from the town’s mining days.
Always up for an adventure, we found the trip to Chicken worthwhile. If you decide to go, don’t be surprised when you find no cell service, outhouses, and high prices for a bite to eat. Just think of it as part of the experience. You might also like Experiencing Alaska’s Uniqueness. Every year, 16 million pink salmon migrate to the Solomon Gulch Fish Hatchery in Valdez, Alaska, to spawn, according to Alaska.org. With this abundance of fish, everyone wants in on the action — including bears. On our last full day in Valdez, Bob set out mid-morning to catch his daily limit of salmon. I told him I’d come down in a little while to take a break from work. As I headed toward the water, my phone rang. It was Bob calling to tell me I should wait to come because of a bear in the area. I looked up and saw a black bear heading my direction. Turning on my heels, I returned to the trailer to grab my bear spray and give the beast some distance. It went toward some bushes and the water, away from Bob’s fishing spot. I waited a bit to ensure my safety. When the bear didn’t resurface, I decided to take my chances and head down to see Bob. Thankfully, no bear was in sight — nor were any fish. It started raining, so we retreated for the day. Mob Mentality Later that afternoon, 10 to 12 people gathered near our trailer, their eyes watching something in the bushes toward the water. Anytime we saw a crowd standing and staring in a certain direction in Valdez, it signaled a bear. That held true in this instance, but the crowd didn’t know the source of their attention. As they moved behind and to the other side of our trailer to try to get a better look, a dad picked up a very large rock to defend himself and his family. I peered out our back window and noticed branches moving. I had no doubt the bear from the morning had come back, attempting to get up the cliff from shore to head home for the evening. The people wouldn’t back away to give it room, so I went out and told them if they’d leave the bear alone, it would go home. “What is it?” they asked. “It’s a bear,” I said. “It’s been down there all day. It lives up the hill and is probably trying to go home.” Sure enough, as soon as the people cleared out, the bear emerged, strolling farther from our trailer but staying in the campground. Other people stood still and watched, and vehicles pulled off the road to check out the show. This prevented the bear from leaving the campground to cross the street. I never saw the creature after that, but I kept my bear spray with me if I went outside, just to be safe. In reality, black bears don’t want anything to do with people. They tend to keep their distance. Scary Evidence Having relatives in Alaska, I grew up hearing about remote cabins that required a boat ride to reach and always wanted to experience that. I got my chance, thanks to my cousins, Paul and Ruth. Bob and I joined Paul aboard his motorboat at a landing where we left Gulliver and Tagalong for a couple of nights. About 20 minutes later, we pulled ashore at a grassy area, no building in sight. By this time, Ruth had made it to the landing we left from, so we unloaded our cargo in the field, even leaving food there. (I didn’t think that wise knowing other relatives had been greeted by a grizzly when approaching land on similar trips, but I was new to the whole experience.) We returned to the landing to pick up Ruth and her belongings and made our way back to our cargo, finding it undisturbed. Paul strapped a rifle to his shoulder and led the way on a half-mile hike to the cabin as we followed, carrying the food and our backpacks. Paul would go back for the heavier cargo with his four-wheeler, as ATVs are called in Alaska, after we reached the cabin. Our hike proved uneventful, and we made it to the rustic building flanked by an outhouse without spotting any wildlife. Paul started the generator to power the outlets and lights, and Ruth and I picked wild Alaska blueberries while Bob grilled steaks. We enjoyed good conversation before turning in for the night. The next day, after a hearty blueberry pancake breakfast, we headed back to the boat with fishing rods in hand and saw evidence that a bear had been on the trail at some point: hair stuck to a tree trunk where the grizzly had rubbed itself. The hair could have been there the night before without our noticing. We had planned to arrive at the cabin the day before but were delayed due to a hub on the boat trailer coming apart and damaging the spindle. Maybe there was a reason we missed that day. Telling Tracks Undeterred, we pressed on to the boat and cast our hooks in the water from shore. Before long, I caught my first fish in years — and my biggest ever, a grayling. I wanted more to feed us all, so I kept casting and reeling in the spinner. I got another bite at one point, but the fish wriggled off. No one else caught anything, so we decided to go for a boat ride to explore more of the creek. On the excursion, Paul spotted a moose. Busy trying to get my camera ready, I didn’t see it. Rookie mistake. I did see swans, ducks, and a bald eagle, though. We pulled ashore on a sandbar and got out to look around. Large footprints made it clear we were in bear country. Other tracks revealed that a moose, a wolf, birds, and a small critter like a fox had also visited the sandbar. The sobering evidence put our heads on a swivel as we reboarded the boat and headed another direction. Stopping in a lake, we fished from the boat. Paul caught and released a small grayling. Bob did the same. But then Bob caught one big enough to keep. That, combined with my fish, made for a decent snack for the four of us.
After returning to our original docking point, with me driving the boat for part of the time, we hiked back to the cabin, stopping to pick blueberries before rain forced us inside. The sun shone brightly the following morning, and we picked more blueberries for a couple of hours before packing to return to our regular lives. What an amazing experience to spend a weekend at a remote cabin, immersed in the quiet of nature and away from the hustle and bustle of everyday life. We were told we’d sense a bear if it were nearby, that the hair on the back of our necks would stand up. We never got that feeling, but the remote experience definitely gave us a greater respect for bears. We’re grateful for our safety, the opportunity we had, the time of rejuvenation and family. You might also like Attack of the Killer Cardinal. Valdez, Alaska. The end of the 800-mile Trans-Alaska Pipeline System. The northernmost ice-free port in the U.S. A hidden gem off the beaten path for most tourists, who opt to visit Homer and Seward instead. The world knows Valdez for the Exxon oil spill in 1989, but Alaskans know it for its boundless beauty, fantastic fishing, gripping glaciers, and wondrous wildlife. The city of Valdez, population about 4,000, wasn’t on our radar of places to visit. After hearing rave reviews by many of the Alaskans we talked to, however, we decided we’d better check it out. We’re glad we listened to those people, as it quickly became one of our favorite stops. Boundless Beauty The drive to Valdez is a two-hour trek from Glennallen through scenic country, past lakes and glaciers galore, along and across rivers, through mountains, and beside waterfalls. The highlight of the trip is Thompson Pass, which climbs to 2,600 feet, taking visitors close to Worthington Glacier and through lush green landscape akin to what you might expect to find in New Zealand. As you descend into Valdez, your eyes are drawn to the numerous white zigzags of waterfalls descending the towering mountains. Approaching town provides close-up views of Bridal Veil Falls and Horsetail Falls on either side of the highway. We camped at Allison Point Campground, 12 miles outside the city, near the Valdez Marine Terminal, where crude oil is loaded onto tanker ships. Our back window offered picturesque views of Port Valdez, a fjord of Prince William Sound. Fantastic Fishing We arrived in Valdez around 7:30 p.m. with plenty of daylight. After setting up our rig, we wandered to another part of the campground to explore our new surroundings. Peering over a cliff down to the water, we spotted someone catching good-sized fish using a line and his hands, no rod. Then we noticed lots of fish jumping. Loud splashes and gasps for air alerted us to sea lions in the area. We decided to get a closer look and found other people catching pretty big fish. Wanting to get in on the action, we returned to Tagalong to assemble our collapsible fishing rod.* Just before 10 p.m., with the sun still shining, we slipped over slimy rocks to get to the water’s edge as the tide ebbed. In only 30 minutes, Bob caught his daily limit of six pink salmon — the biggest fish he’d ever hooked. The rapid pumping of adrenaline helped negate the annoying mosquitos trying to distract us. (We only bought one nonresident fishing license and had one rod.) Fishing is the second biggest industry in Alaska after oil. Every year, hundreds of thousands of salmon swim upstream to lay eggs and die. We had heard about these runs and always wanted to see them. We got our wish, hitting Valdez at the peak of this event for pink salmon. Back in the trailer with our beheaded and gutted catch, we started processing the fish a little before 11, with help from a YouTube video. The sun quickly dipped below the horizon, the first time we’d seen that happen since setting out for Alaska in late May. Two hours later, Bob completed the processing job. The meat weighed close to 7 pounds, averaging just over 1 pound per fish — not bad for a 2.5-hour investment. We stored the fillets and crashed into bed, thankful for the fresh food. Gripping Glaciers We awoke to a foggy morning and headed into town to board the Lu-Lu Belle boat for a glacier wildlife cruise. Someone we bumped into in Homer had recommended we book a tour on this particular boat. What an experience! Being some of the last passengers to arrive, we didn’t find anywhere to sit in the main cabin. Captain Fred, who’s been running these tours since 1979, gave us all a safety briefing before heading upstairs to the wheelhouse. He invited passengers to join him anytime, so we followed, pleasantly surprised to discover more passenger seating. Captain Fred prides himself on taking people closer to the wildlife and glaciers than any other cruise company, and he didn’t disappoint. He led us and nearly 30 other passengers through Port Valdez and the Valdez Arm to Prince William Sound, stopping along the way for us to snap photos of sea otters and waterfalls. Before we knew it, Captain Fred navigated us through a field of blue icebergs to within one-quarter mile of Columbia Glacier, the largest in Prince William Sound and one of the fastest-moving in the world. The mountain of ice stands 200 to 400 feet tall. We lingered for an hour in the mesmerizing beauty and got to witness the glacier calving, or breaking apart, multiple times — including the equivalent of a three-story building crashing into the water at one point. Every direction we looked left us in awe of God’s ice sculptures. With rain on the windows, our best chance at good pictures meant braving the 34-degree temperature outside. Good thing I wore long johns and took layers of clothing. Wondrous Wildlife On the return trip to Valdez, we observed harbor seals and sea otters hanging out on icebergs before the rocking of the boat lulled us to sleep. We woke up to see puffins and sea lions. Talk about getting closer than any other company: Captain Fred drove his boat practically into a cave so passengers could get good views and photos of puffins perched there. The only thing that would have made the trip more complete was a whale sighting. I had given up any hope of that, accepting that it wouldn’t happen for us this year in Alaska. But then someone spotted an orca! I dashed outside, eager to feel the immenseness of such a creature. Whales travel in pods, so one quickly turned into nearly 20 as we flung our heads to and fro for a chance to witness these magnificent beings rising to the surface for air. Amazing! Given the vastness of Prince William Sound in proportion to the whales, they didn’t seem all that enormous. I found myself astounded nonetheless, especially when considering that an orca’s dorsal fin can be 4 to 6 feet tall. In addition to the killer whales, we saw porpoises before returning to shore, nearly 10 hours after departing. Our $175 per-person fare had guaranteed us about seven hours of exploration, but Captain Fred went the extra mile(s) to ensure we got our money’s worth and a view of all the fascinating things he’s been admiring for nearly 45 years.
There’s much more to see in Valdez than we saw, but we’re overjoyed with our experience. My favorite part was sitting or standing on the shore of Port Valdez’s cerulean water to watch fish launch themselves into the air, sea otters float on their backs eating their treasures from diving expeditions, and sea lions come up for air after catching their dinner. What a blessing! You might also like 4 Amazing Things to Do in Fairbanks, Alaska. * As Amazon associates, we earn from qualifying purchases. |
AuthorThis is the travel blog of full-time RVers Bob and Lana Gates and our truck, Gulliver, and fifth wheel, Tagalong. Categories
All
Archives
April 2024
|