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.
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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. If you’ve heard of Homer, Alaska, then you likely know it’s a famous fishing destination. As a matter of fact, Homer is the Halibut Fishing Capital of the World, but people flock there to catch other varieties too, including salmon, rockfish, and lingcod. “The end of the road,” or the Homer Spit, also attracts visitors. A 4.5-mile-long strip of land that extends from the mainland into Kachemak Bay, it serves as a boat harbor for commercial and charter fishing and tour boats and is lined by campgrounds, seafood eateries, art galleries, and beaches. We had the privilege of spending a week and a half at Mariner Park on the spit, not far from the mainland, parked about 50 yards from Cook Inlet at high tide. Although in close proximity to our neighbors on either side, the setup didn’t feel tight, thanks to the expansive body of water in our backyard. Greeting us with beautiful views out our rear window every morning, the shore beckoned us to it. We took daily walks on the beach to hunt for special rocks and seashells, navigate across streams without getting wet, and survey our surroundings. One day, we got brave enough to take off our shoes and wade through the streams and into the surf. The water temperature didn’t feel too bad. Before long, though, my ankles ached from the cold. Another day, we spotted a bald eagle on our walk that let us get pretty close to it. History of Homer Inuit Eskimos and later Tanaina Indians settled in the Homer area, likely drawn to its many resources. In the late 1800s, Homer Pennock convinced others to follow him there for the promise of gold. Within a year, the hope of finding any gold there vanished, as did Pennock, but his name and reputation as a conman remained. Homer officially became a city in 1964, just in time for it to receive federal relief funds after enduring a 9.2-magnitude earthquake five days later. Hitting at low tide, the quake spared the Homer Spit, but the strip dropped nearly 6 feet. The area sustained flooding, toppled chimneys, and broken windows. The town’s most famous building, the Salty Dawg Saloon, was among those flooded. Built in 1897, the former cabin was moved to the spit in the late 1940s, where it’s been a staple ever since. Although it’s fully operational today, we didn’t go inside to see what all the hype is about, but we did hear people rave about the place. Things to Do in Homer, Alaska Despite the city’s small size (25.5 square miles), it offers many activities: fishing charters, ferry rides to Kodiak and other destinations, float plane rides for bear and whale watching, shopping, rock and shell collecting, kite flying and surfing, wildlife tours, and bike rentals. We looked into taking a fishing charter but found it a bit pricey and difficult to fit in around my work schedule. Plus, we didn’t know what we’d do with 70 pounds of fresh fish. Opting for the next best thing, we purchased some locally caught halibut at a seafood shop on the spit. Bob made a delectable meal, and we didn’t feel like we missed out. The adventure bug and the desire to see whales led us to Rainbow Tours, where we booked a trip to Seldovia for a chance to view aquatic birds and wildlife along the way. Although we didn’t spot any whales, we did observe sea otters, puffins (from a distance), bald eagles, and myriad other birds, including cormorants. After the boat docked in the small town of Seldovia, passengers disembarked for 2.5 hours of fun on their own. We ate lunch and wandered around town before finding our way to the Otterbahn Trail, a hiking path that took us through the woods and over a boardwalk to Outside Beach. From there, we navigated to a road and took that back into town, stopping briefly at a cemetery where numerous Russian settlers are buried. The return boat trip didn’t uncover any whales, but it did reveal more sea otters and a sea lion. The morning fog had cleared, and we relished the ride at the bow of the boat, outside the cabin. For another excursion, we set out with Gulliver down East End Road after getting a tip from my cousin. The route meandered out of town and toward the bay, offering spectacular views of two glaciers. Pavement gave way to dirt, and the road got sketchy. We followed it down a tree-lined path. Right before a curve to descend further, we got out and snapped some pictures. That was the end of the road for us. We wanted to make sure Gulliver could get back to the spit. We had planned to spend only one week in Homer, but the peacefulness of the water and waves and the laid-back atmosphere encouraged us to linger, enjoying a fraction of the 6,640 miles of Alaska coastline.
You might also like Experiencing Alaska’s Uniqueness. After three weeks on our annual tour with two WWII bombers, we returned to Alaska to continue our adventures, pleased to find dry conditions and fewer mosquitos than when we left. We had planned to stay in the same spot a couple of hours north of Anchorage for three nights before moving on. Some people have no trouble driving their RV in rainy conditions. We’re not among them. We’ve driven through rain a few times out of necessity, but anytime we can avoid it, we do. The weather forecast called for rain on our scheduled day of departure, as well as the day before. Having experienced our fair share of water problems earlier in the year, we decided to head out sooner than planned and drive most of the way to Homer on a Friday. Not wanting to fight weekend crowds, we opted to stop about 80 miles shy of our destination and hunker down at a grocery store that allows overnight RV parking. One night turned into two as precipitation socked us in. We didn’t mind, though. The downtime proved beneficial after a very busy three weeks on tour. We relaxed, read, watched movies, and recuperated. Sunday’s weather forecast showed a possible break in the rain. We ate breakfast, hustled into the store for a few essentials, and refilled our propane. Then, we secured everything in the rig and readied it for the 1.5-hour journey to Homer. Only the rain didn’t stop completely. What’s the Big Deal About Driving in the Rain? We have no issue driving Gulliver in the rain. He handles well and is watertight. Towing in wet weather, however, is not ideal as poor visibility and slick road conditions can worsen Gulliver’s ability to stop a 17,000-pound trailer. In addition, Tagalong doesn’t tend to fare well in rain. He’s not built watertight. In fact, small openings around his wheel wells under the kitchen and living room slideouts allow for water to get inside the trailer while it’s moving. Wet roads can be enough to kick up water and spew it inside. This makes for messy circumstances when we open our rig upon reaching our destination. Water streams across the main living area floor, from the dining table to the kitchen island and from there to the corner between the refrigerator and office. Sopping up the rivers and pools is no big deal. The bigger issue is longer-term damage from water getting into the wood. But water isn’t the only concern. The tires kick up silt and sand from the road, which attaches itself to the wood wall between the refrigerator and office. Preparing for the Onslaught Because we left the grocery store parking lot in the rain, I stashed a towel in each of the faulty corners inside the trailer. The rain lightened up but didn’t completely subside. A moose crossing the road in front of us tested our stopping ability on the slick highway. The brakes held, and we didn’t hit it. Thankfully, we didn’t encounter the moose while driving through fog. We reached Homer and parked Tagalong in the mud, setting up in continued rain. We opened his door to find both towels soaked to the point that I could wring them out — and a braided river still greeted us. Silt clung to the wall, and a patch of waterlogged carpet threatened to soak our socks if we removed our shoes. I cleaned up the mess, and we finished establishing home for the week. Despite the mud and rough start, we can’t complain about our amazing views. Oftentimes in life, we have to go through hardships to reach our goals. I’d say we did that in this case. We’ll continue to monitor the weather and do our best to avoid driving Tagalong in the rain. And for those times we can’t, maybe we’ll come up with some better solutions to absorb the water and silt.
You might also like How We Determine Our RV Stops. When considering and researching driving to Alaska, we didn’t find much about taking a fifth wheel RV or a big rig on the Alaska Highway. Plenty of sources referenced class C motorhomes, camper vans, and truck campers, but could we take a fifth wheel? The answer is yes, you can drive a fifth wheel on the Alaska Highway, and that’s exactly what we did after many months of preparation. Our truck and rig needed a good wash after the trek (but not as badly as it needed it after our trip on the Dalton Highway). Road Conditions We found the first half of the road to be fantastic, in much better shape than many of the highways we’ve traveled in the Lower 48. The second half, however, left a bit to be desired. We had heard that the road worsened near Destruction Bay in the Yukon Territory. Indeed it did. The highway became littered with large patches of bumpiness. Being early in the season (toward the end of May), we also encountered numerous construction zones, most of which consisted of gravel. In a number of places, we had to wait for a pilot car to lead us through the areas under repair. Once we crossed into Alaska, the road became even worse, with lots of waviness from frost heaves, wide-open potholes, and more construction. The road continued to be challenging until about 40 miles outside of Tok. 8 Tips for Success Adverse road conditions can be harder on fifth wheels and big rigs than they are on camper vans, truck campers, and class C motorhomes. Additionally, smaller vehicles allow for more spontaneity and easier parking. With a 42-foot fifth wheel in tow, we have to be more calculated and plan our stops. Fortunately, most of the gas stations along the Alaska Highway are uncovered, unlike in the contiguous U.S., so we had no trouble pulling in to get fuel. Here are our top tips for success on the Alaska Highway. 1. Set your odometer to 0 in Dawson Creek. This will enable you to follow along with The Milepost book and/or the Alaska Highway book you can pick up in Dawson Creek, British Columbia, at the visitor information center that details the many turnouts along the way where you can stop for lunch or camp overnight. The visitor center also offers a list of gas stations along the Alaska Highway that are noted by mileposts. 2. Know your metric measurements. You likely know the height and width of your rig in feet and inches. In Canada, you need to know those measurements in meters, as that’s how overpasses and bridges are marked. Our rig is 13 feet, 3 inches tall, which converts to 4 meters and 4 centimeters. 3. Be prepared for fueling differences. Fuel prices look inexpensive in Canada, but that’s because they’re per liter rather than per gallon. One liter is equal to 0.26 gallon, so you can roughly determine the price per gallon by multiplying the cost times four. Keep in mind the price is Canadian, which, at the time of this writing, is $1.32 (CAD) to $1 (USD). If you’re used to topping your diesel exhaust fluid (DEF) at the pump in the U.S., be aware this option is a rarity in Canada. We carried a container of DEF with us to ensure we didn’t run out. 4. Watch your speed. It’s best not to be in a hurry on this remote highway. You’ll get better gas mileage going at a slower pace, and it will be easier to stop if you come across something of interest — or happen upon wildlife. Enjoy the journey and make the most of it. The posted speed limits are in kilometers per hour, not miles per hour. It didn’t take us long to learn that 50 kph is 30 mph, 70 kph is 45 mph, 90 kph is 55 mph, and 100 kph is 60 mph. 5. Regularly scan the horizon for wildlife. Spotting wildlife is one of the highlights of driving the Alaska Highway. Keeping your eyes peeled gives you more opportunities to see black bears, bison, moose, porcupines, bighorn sheep, deer, and more. We quickly realized that black blobs from a distance tended to be bears (although some black blobs were culvert openings) and brown blobs were bison. 6. Don’t be afraid to use the other lane. Because the highway is remote, you can use the entire road to avoid taking your rig over bumps unnecessarily. Just be sure you check both behind and in front of you before moving into the oncoming lane. 7. Download playlists and/or podcasts. Knowing that our SiriusXM radio is satellite-based, we expected it to work on the Alaska Highway and even into the 49th state. Because Canada and Alaska are much farther north than the SiriusXM satellites, our radio wasn’t able to see them and left us in silence. We had heard that might happen, so we went prepared and downloaded some Mike Rowe podcasts ahead of time. 8. Keep snacks handy. The Alaska Highway is not like most highways in the contiguous United States, with gas stations and restaurants every few miles. It’s quite remote, leading through very small towns and villages that may or may not have food available. Be prepared: Have snacks on hand and easy-to-make meals at the ready. They’ll come in handy when your tummy’s rumbling and no restaurant is in sight. It’s also wise to have some Canadian cash on hand in case you stop at a small establishment that doesn’t take credit or that’s experiencing internet issues. The Alaska Highway is a great adventure for vehicles of all shapes and sizes, offering beautiful scenery and plentiful opportunities to meet amazing people. You might also like Crossing the Border into Canada in an RV. Alaska is a destination for people looking to experience spectacular scenery, vast open spaces, and abundant wildlife. Top attractions include fishing for halibut, witnessing a salmon run, and exploring Denali National Park. There are plenty more opportunities than those to get a good taste of Alaska’s uniqueness. In addition to the amazing things we did in Fairbanks, we took advantage of some of those while spending time with family in the lower interior, near Wasilla. Dog Mushing Alaska is home to the Iditarod Trail Sled Dog Race, one of the most famous dog mushing contests in the country. The nearly 1,000-mile race takes mushing teams from Anchorage to Nome, following a freight route and paying homage to the important role of sled dogs in Alaska history. Encouraged by our friend and Iditarod finisher Richard Burmeister and his wife Janet, we headed to the Iditarod Headquarters, which is not easy to happen upon if you’re not looking. While there, we watched a captivating video about the history of the competition, life on the trail, and care of the sled dogs. Then we paid $10 each to experience what it’s like to be led by a team of dogs. Iditarod veteran Riley Dyche answered all of our questions about his 32 dogs and the race while a team of 10 of the pack animals rested. As we climbed aboard a cart attached to the dogs, they stood at attention, eager to take us on a run. Dyche gave the command for the dogs to go, and off we went on a short course around the grounds, holding on tight as we picked up speed and the wind flew in our faces. It was just enough to give us a good feel of sled dog racing, at a very reasonable price. Glacier Viewing Glaciers form when accumulated snow turns to ice and starts to flow downward under the pressure of its weight, collecting and moving rocks and sediment in its path. The majority of glaciers in North America can be found in Alaska, offering plentiful viewing opportunities. We took a day trip and drove to the aptly named town of Glacier View to see Matanuska Glacier, the “largest in the U.S. that can be reached by vehicle,” according to the Alaska Travel Industry Association. Driving to, and even walking on, the glacier requires purchasing a tour, to the tune of $150 per person. We opted to forgo that and take in the panorama instead. A turnout on the side of Glenn Highway provides the perfect spot to get out of the car, gaze at the glacier’s allure, and attempt to capture it in photos (they don’t do it justice). A short distance away is Mantanuska Glacier State Park, which features more photo and viewing opportunities. It also includes a trail with placards along the way, educating passersby about glaciers and flora and fauna in the area. Historical Talkeetna Somewhat off the tourist-beaten path, the little village of Talkeetna beckons visitors to its history and charm. Its location as the jumping-off point for climbing Denali, aka Mount McKinley, the highest peak in North America at 20,310 feet, brings many to its borders. Others are drawn by the arts and crafts shops and eateries lining its quaint city streets. On the National Register of Historic Places, Talkeetna is known for gold mining, the railroad boom, and a viewpoint for solar eclipses. We spent time there investigating its shops, watching the rush of the three rivers that converge there, and sampling locally made ice cream in unusual flavors: black licorice and fireweed -- a popular wildflower in the area. Exquisite Beauty With wide-open spaces and abundant daylight hours, Alaska is the ideal place to get outside and soak in God’s astounding creation. From kayaking on any of the many lakes to spotting wildlife, nearly everywhere we looked made us want to pull out our cameras and snap a photo. After visiting Talkeetna, we headed to Denali View South, where you can get out and see the Alaska Range in the distance. You can even take a short hike to another viewing spot that overlooks a braided river, marked by criss-crossing streams and large swaths of sediment. Clouds shrouded Denali that day, but we managed to glimpse the towering white peak. On another day, we saw it from about 60 miles away. Another popular area, Hatcher Pass, offers consuming scenery and numerous hiking trails along its winding and ascending route. One led us beside a stream to expansive views of mountains and wildflowers. Some parts of the trail were a bit muddy due to recent snow melt, but the beauty all around us made the 3-mile or so hike very worthwhile. The icing on the cake was watching a mama moose and her calf cross the road in front of us. We thank God for the blessing of being able to witness incredible scenery and experience the uniqueness of Alaska.
You might also like 5 Amazing Things to See on the Alaska Highway. The state of Alaska is a diamond in the rough, renowned for gold mining, salmon runs, halibut and crab fishing, the Trans-Alaska Pipeline System, and the Iditarod. The Last Frontier has a lot of natural beauty to behold: glaciers, enormous snow-covered mountains, swift-moving rivers, serene lakes, stately evergreen trees, and colorful wildflowers. It also has plentiful man-made wonders to explore. We spent two weeks in the Fairbanks area, the northern point of the main highway system in Interior Alaska and the unofficial end of the Alaska Highway. (The official end is Delta Junction.) Fairbanks offers some truly authentic Alaska experiences. Here are four we participated in and enjoyed: 1. Santa Claus House No matter what time of year you visit Alaska, the Santa Claus House in North Pole is worth seeing. It’s easily visible from Highway 2, and the small city is extremely inviting with its candy cane-painted street lights and Christmas-themed street names. The Santa Claus House began in 1952 as a trading post for Con Miller’s merchant and fur purchases. At Christmastime, he dressed as Santa and quickly rose to celebrity status. The store also offered groceries, a soda fountain, and a post office. Today, the Santa Claus House peddles Christmas ornaments, toys, gifts, keepsakes, clothing, and Alaskan-made crafts. It includes The Sweet Shop, where you can find fudge, cookies, chocolates, ice cream, and coffee. But the best part is Santa’s presence. He’s available for photos and chats. Bonus: If you want some Chinese food while you’re in North Pole, head to Pagoda. You won’t be disappointed. 2. Aurora Ice Museum Located at the Chena Hot Springs Resort, the Aurora Ice Museum boasts the world’s largest year-round ice environment, and it’s open every day of the year. For $20 each, ages 12 and older ($15 for ages 6-11) can don a resort-provided parka to enter the 25-degree museum for a 45-minute chilling experience. Be sure to take gloves and a hat. You can explore four bedrooms that used to be available for rent, crawl in a real igloo, snap pictures of ice sculptures, and watch a worker craft martini glasses out of ice. For an additional fee paid before the tour, you can even sample an appletini out of one of those glasses. 3. Gold Panning Most people think of California when they hear the term “gold rush,” but Alaska had one too, albeit nearly 50 years later. Gold Dredge 8 gives visitors an authentic gold mining experience. The tour starts under a section of the Trans-Alaska Pipeline System with a brief overview of the dredge’s glory days. From there, visitors board a train and ride the rail to the historical dredge while a narrator continues sharing about the area’s rich history. Workers give a gold panning demonstration, and then you get to deboard the train and prospect for yourself. Each visitor receives a bag of dirt, or poke, to pan for gold. With a little help, we succeeded in finding the precious metal. Bob uncovered $6 worth of gold, and I got $12 worth. After that, we explored the gift shops, took turns holding a 19-ounce gold nugget, toured the dredge, and enjoyed free coffee and cookies. 4. Riverboat Cruise If you only have time and funds for one big activity in Fairbanks, this should be it. The Riverboat Discovery is much more than a ride on a paddle-wheel boat like we experienced in New Orleans. It’s a three-hour immersion into Alaska. Once you board the vessel, before you even find a seat, you can get a free cup of coffee and a donut. Settle in and enjoy the narration about life on the Chena River. After passing a house where Ronald Reagan spent some time, you’ll stop at the home of the late Susan Butcher, four-time Iditarod champion. Her husband shares about the barking dogs behind him and gives a dog mushing demonstration. Continuing down the river, you’ll learn about reindeer and what makes them different from caribou, and you’ll stop at Chena Village Living Museum, where you’ll deboard to get a taste of village life, a very important part of Alaska’s past and present. There’s a smokehouse, animal pelts, a camping exhibit, authentic dress, and more. After a considerable amount of time there, you’ll reboard the boat one last time for the journey back to the starting point. As a treat on that leg, guests get samples of Captain Jim’s Alaska smoked salmon, a nice culmination.
You might also like An Authentic Texas Experience. If you had the chance to go to the Arctic Ocean, would you take it? We had that opportunity and jumped at it, but it took a lot of preparation. Getting to the Arctic Ocean in Alaska requires flying to Prudhoe Bay or driving the 414-mile Dalton Highway. Since we travel the country in our fifth wheel RV, we chose the latter option — but we didn’t take the RV. Road Conditions Known to locals as “the Haul Road” because of its heavy truck traffic, the Dalton Highway follows the Trans-Alaska Pipeline System between Fairbanks and Deadhorse. We had heard that the roadway is gravel the whole way and pretty rough. Not wanting to subject our home to those conditions, we decided to leave it behind at my cousin’s in the Fairbanks area (thanks, Dayn and Dawn!) and take Gulliver and our tent for the truck bed. The Haul Road actually has numerous paved sections. Other than the last 60 miles, however, we found the dirt and gravel portions easier to drive than the paved portions, which were littered with potholes and frost heaves. A number of parts were under construction in early June, some of which required us to follow a pilot car through miles of narrow, bumpy roads. Although better than the pavement, the dirt and gravel sections did have some shortcomings. The Alaska Department of Transportation spreads calcium chloride on those portions to minimize dust. It does a pretty good job of that but can corrode vehicles. In wet conditions, it can make for a slick, sloppy mess that requires extra alertness while driving. Where to Stop The highway follows the pipeline through beautiful, breathtaking scenery. It’s quite remote, and wayside stops are limited and not obvious from the road. You have to do research ahead of time to find them — especially because there’s no cell service on most of the journey. We ventured off the highway at Yukon River Camp, just past the Yukon River Crossing. The camp offers fuel, a restaurant, snacks, a gift shop, and lodging. Although accommodations here and at all stops along the highway are designed for truckers and pipeline workers, not travelers, we found the people we encountered very friendly. We topped our fuel tank at a jaw-dropping $7.49 per gallon price for diesel. (We paid $4.19 per gallon in Fairbanks before hitting the highway.) Our next stop was about 60 miles away for a photo op at the Arctic Circle sign, marking the northernmost point we had ever visited. About 20 miles later, we passed through the tiny town of Prospect Creek. Since we drove right through, we’re not sure what it offered, if anything. We pressed on for another 38 miles to Coldfoot, about the halfway point on the trek. Because of that status, Coldfoot is a popular stop and offers a restaurant, lodging, and fuel. Although we didn’t really need more diesel, we took advantage of its availability to ensure a successful journey in the off chance that Deadhorse would be out of fuel when we arrived. We reached Coldfoot around dinner time, our stomachs rumbling for sustenance. Hungry and cold, we decided to spring for $25 each for a warm, ready-made meal. The restaurant’s buffet featured a salad bar, pulled pork soup, sausage with pasta, steamed vegetables, mashed potatoes, and bread, with mango rice pudding and lemon bars for dessert. It hit the spot. Atigun Pass Finding internet availability in Coldfoot, we checked the weather for Atigun Pass, a 4,739-foot route through the Brooks Range, about 70 miles away. The reports showed snow and rain in the morning forecast. Not wanting to drive through unfamiliar, potentially precarious territory in wet, sloppy conditions, we decided to continue on with our drive, a feat made easier by the Arctic’s midnight sun. Nothing could have prepared us for our journey through the beautifully snow-capped mountains standing guard at the pass. White snow flurries flew at our windshield as we ascended seemingly into the clouds. As the outside temperature dropped from 30 to 20 degrees, we gawked at our surreal, mesmerizing surroundings, feeling tiny in the vastness around us. We successfully followed two semi-trucks through the mountains and had planned to stay at the primitive Galbraith Lake Campground just beyond the pass. Arriving there at 10 p.m., we found icicles hanging from the picnic tables in the 24-degree weather. That combined with a missing toilet seat in the outhouse and rain in the forecast convinced us to move on. Boondocking in the Arctic That decision took us to a slightly warmer temperature — 30 degrees at 11:20 p.m. — but we had to navigate the worst section of the Dalton Highway, forcing us to go 20 to 25 mph to reach our stopping point for the night, near pipeline pump station 3. Although you can find established campgrounds in some areas along the highway, the Haul Road offers numerous turnouts where travelers can pull over and camp overnight. We set up our tent in the bed of the truck, snapped a picture of the midnight sun, and settled in for some shuteye. Fortunately, I had taken an eye mask to block out the light, which didn’t bother Bob. The freezing cold didn’t make for the best sleep. We awoke numerous times. Traditionally, any time we camp, my charge is to take “too many blankets.” I thought I had done that, but I quickly learned otherwise. We had to use two underneath us to block the cold permeating through the air mattress. Thankfully, Bob had purchased a box of Sport Temp hand warmers* that we tucked around our feet and bodies to make the night bearable. We heard a strange animal sound over and over again and weren’t sure what it was — or how big the animal it came from. At one point, we both thought we heard footsteps. A bear perhaps? The next morning, we didn’t find any footprints (not that we really looked), but we did figure out what animal made the strange noise: a ptarmigan, Alaska’s official state bird. (It’s not the mosquito after all.) We had seen a couple of ptarmigan before arriving at our stop for the night. After repacking all our blankets and tearing down the tent and air mattress, we boiled water for coffee and a Peak Refuel backpack breakfast.* Fueled and caffeinated, we hit the road for the last leg of our journey to Deadhorse, where we had chartered an Arctic Ocean Shuttle for 3:30 p.m. We saw four caribou and a number of waterfowl on the way. Deadhorse Deadhorse is a very industrial community, owing its livelihood to pipeline and related workers. It features hotels (most rooms with twin beds), a general store, an auto parts store, a couple of fuel stations, and a post office. While in the general store, we heard one visitor ask where she could get a good hamburger. She couldn’t. The workers eat at their place of lodging. Each of the “hotels,” or camps, offers a buffet for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, with set times and changing menus. The workers are busy, and many work long days or nights. Due to security around the oil fields, unaccompanied visitors are not allowed in. Getting to the Arctic Ocean requires purchasing a tour at least 24 hours in advance to allow time for a background check. Arctic Polar Bear Club An Arctic Ocean tour includes the option to dip your hands, feet, or even whole body into the frigid water. We had been psyching ourselves up for months to take a polar plunge. Because of cold, windy weather, I nearly opted out. Bob and two others in our group of five had decided they would jump in. Not knowing if I’d ever be in the area again and wanting to live each day to the fullest as a cancer survivor, I couldn’t pass up the opportunity. Our tour guide navigated us through the oil fields, sharing interesting facts and pointing out important sights. I didn’t hear much of what he said as I was focused on mental preparation for the feat ahead. We reached our destination and emerged from the tour bus, fully clothed. Quickly taking in the beauty and capturing it in photos, we worked our way to the beach and started undressing in the 38-degree outdoor air, the wind prickling our skin with goosebumps. The sun had come out to spotlight our lunatic behavior. Eager to do the deed and get it behind me, I gingerly stepped down to the water and put in a foot. It didn’t feel too bad — not like the Atlantic Ocean in May when Bob and I had waded in with my dad, our feet nearly instantly numb. Ice atop the Arctic Ocean limited where we could take a dip. I wandered to a somewhat deeper, though still shallow, section and lay down in it. Bob followed and did the same. “How long do we have to stay here?” I asked, splashing water on my front so I wouldn’t have to turn over. The deed done, I sprang out of the water to the welcoming warmth of the sun, feeling very alive. As I dried off, I marveled at how I didn’t feel terribly cold, at least not with a towel around me. We put our clothes back on and posed for another picture before returning to the bus. We did it! We became official members of the Arctic Polar Bear Club and received certificates to prove it. Cultural Immersion
Not wanting to sleep in our cold tent that night, we decided to splurge for a hotel. The price at The Aurora Hotel seemed a bit steep until we learned it included our meals. Warm food, a warm bed, and a warm shower — out of the rain, the truck, and the bumpy road conditions — held great appeal. And this hotel had some rooms with queen beds in them. The stay proved to be one of our favorite parts of our trip on the Dalton Highway. It gave us a good taste of the culture of the industrial area that is Prudhoe Bay. Pipeline and other workers spend a great amount of time there to protect a major part of the country’s infrastructure. To get any kind of food or rest in the town requires entering their world. We enjoyed learning about their jobs and lives. We lingered until after lunch the next day so we could get our money’s worth and start our return trip with full bellies. Since the weather looked good over Atigun Pass, we decided to drive to Coldfoot and evaluate our options. When we arrived, the weather didn’t make us want to set up our tent. So, we purchased coffee and journeyed onward to sleep in our nice warm bed, well wroth the 11-hour drive. Although Gulliver took a beating, we had a wonderful Alaska adventure. You might also like Driving an RV Across the Chesapeake Bay Bridge-Tunnel. * As Amazon Associates, we earn from qualifying purchases. The majority of the Alaska Highway ventures through Canada: 613 miles in British Columbia and 577 miles in Yukon Territory, presenting brilliant scenery. The sparsely populated towns along the way can be welcome respites from the remoteness most of the roadway holds. Some offer unique appeal to weary travelers. Here are five amazing things we saw on the Alaska Highway: 1. Muncho Lake You can’t help but see this beautiful body of water in British Columbia as the Alaska Highway meanders right next to it starting around mile 436. Getting to Muncho Lake involves navigating the summit of Stone Mountain, known for Stone sheep and sudden weather changes. What makes this lake impressive is its stark greenish-blue water (which our camera didn’t capture) and the fact that it’s one of the largest natural lakes in the Canadian Rockies. Camping options are available along the water. Because it was raining and a Canadian holiday weekend when we went through, we didn’t stop. 2. Liard River Hot Springs Located at mile 471, Liard River Hot Springs in British Columbia has been attracting visitors to its naturally heated pools since well before the construction of the Alaska Highway. Today, the springs are protected and operated by the Kootenay Forest Services and are well worth a stop. Having left Dawson Creek on a Saturday, we booked a campsite at the hot springs for Monday so we could take our time getting there. Because of expected rain in the area on Monday, we drove farther than originally planned on Sunday and arrived at about 6 p.m. to find a very full campground. We parked in overflow parking, paid $26 (Canadian or American; there’s no exchange rate here) for an additional night, and were granted access to the springs. A nearly half-mile boardwalk over a marshy area takes visitors to the Alpha pool, where the warmth of the water varies. It’s hottest where it enters the pool and coolest at the other end. The temperature isn’t evenly regulated from top to bottom. Heat comes in waves, and you can often feel cool water on your feet. Across the street from the Liard River Hot Springs Provincial Park is Liard Hot Springs Lodge and RV Park, which features a restaurant and Wi-Fi (for a fee). Although primitive (with no hookups), camping at the provincial park includes access to the springs in its nightly fee. If you don’t want to spend the night, you can still enjoy the springs for a $5 per-person day-use fee. 3. Sign Post Forest At mile 612 in the town of Watson Lake, Yukon Territory, you’ll find a truly unique tourist attraction that dates back to the time of the creation of the Alaska Highway. When one of the engineers was sent to the Watson Lake area to recover from an injury and assigned to repair and repaint directional signs, he felt homesick. So, he added a sign to his hometown of Danville, Illinois, to an existing signpost. As others on the Alaska Highway came upon the signs, they decided to add their own as well, and Sign Post Forest was born. Today, it features more than 100,000 signs in all shapes and sizes. We showed up prepared. South Dakota sent us a new license plate this year as the state changed the color of “South Dakota” on its plates. So, we took our old GULIVER plate and posted it in a prominent spot atop one of the numerous posts. You’ll have to see if you can find it if you’re ever there. 4. Kluane Lake At about mile 1,001, a magnificent, 50-mile-long lake — Yukon’s largest — comes into view. The highway skirts Kluane Lake, offering scenic turnouts for photo opportunities of the expansive body of water against the backdrop of the Kluane Ranges mountains. We were privileged to spend a chilly night in this area, basking in God’s amazing beauty around us. We walked down to the lake and put a hand in. The water was quite cold, as we expected, since a thick layer of ice still covered much of it. 5. Wildlife Part of the excitement of driving the Alaska Highway is seeing wildlife along the way. I got excited every time we happened upon an animal in its natural habitat. (Somehow, I don’t think the feeling was mutual.) We were thrilled when we spotted a family of four bears (a mama and three cubs) out for a Sunday picnic. A little later, we saw another mama bear with a single cub. Driving through the Stone Mountain summit pass lined by rocky cliffs, we caught sight of a Stone sheep but didn’t have time to take a picture. As we journeyed on, a mama bison and her calf crossed the highway in front of us. Before much longer, we encountered a herd of bison on the side of the road. At Liard River Hot Springs, a moose cut across the boardwalk as we approached. We also ran across a deer, another moose, more bears, more bison, a porcupine, and a bald eagle. Oh, and we can’t forget Alaska’s “state bird,” the mosquito. We’re grateful for the opportunity to drive the Alaska Highway and for all the beauty we got to behold on our journey. We are truly blessed.
You might also like Magnificent Rock Formations. The Alaska Highway stretches 1,387 miles, starting at Dawson Creek, British Columbia, and ending at Delta Junction, Alaska. From the contiguous U.S. to Alaska, it seems like there would be a more direct route than from Dawson Creek, which is practically to Alberta and considerably north of the Canadian border. When the highway was created in the 1940s, it was done so for military reasons after the bombing of Pearl Harbor, which made a land supply route pertinent. Much of the roadway’s purpose was to connect air bases between Edmonton, Alberta, and Fairbanks, Alaska. Prior to the attack on Pearl Harbor, plans had been drafted to build a connecting route between Alaska and the contiguous U.S., but Canada didn’t see much benefit to investing in such a highway. After Pearl Harbor, however, Canada was more willing. The U.S. agreed to pay for the construction of the highway and turn over the Canadian portion to Canada six months after the end of the war. Construction commenced in 1942 and took eight months and 27,000 workers to complete. The roadway didn’t become public until 1948. Today, it carries approximately 300,000 travelers a year. Dawson Creek, British Columbia Dawson Creek marked the end of the Northern Alberta Railway in 1942, so that’s where American troops and supplies arrived to begin the great construction project. Because they started there, Dawson Creek is the official starting point for the journey of a lifetime, signified by a world-famous cairn and sign. The sign is flanked by an iconic landmark labeled Alberta Pool Elevators Ltd. Dawson Creek, which houses an art gallery now. In the same complex stands the visitor center, featuring a museum of the Northern Alberta Railway Station, Dawson Creek souvenirs, and super friendly staff who eagerly share valuable information. The visitor center also showcases a replica of the original mile 0 post, which can be found just down the street in the middle of an intersection. Dawson Creek is a great place to spend a few days to wrap up preparations for a days-long journey on the Alaska Highway. We spent a week at the Mile 0 Campground (actually at mile 1.86) for that very reason. We fueled up, restocked our supplies (with three grocery stores to choose from), did laundry, and took care of maintenance. We took Tagalong, our fifth wheel, to United Spring & Brake Ltd. to check our grease-neglected suspension. The trustworthy guys there gave the complete suspension system a thorough examination. They replaced and greased all the wet bolts and brash bushings. And they reversed the zerks, or grease fittings, so that they face the underside of the trailer, making future grease jobs easy endeavors. We’ll no longer have to remove the tires for that. The workers also discovered one of the trailer’s leaf spring hangers had partially broken. Since they didn’t have a replacement in stock, they welded it to strengthen and secure it. All that work took only 3.5 hours and was a very reasonable price. We highly recommend any RVer visit United Spring & Brake before driving the Alaska Highway. Starting on the Alaska Highway With all of those things done, we were ready to set out on our Alaska adventure. Our trip got off to a smoky start, thanks to a wildfire burning about 47 miles away. We trudged through with limited visibility for about 1.5 hours before the smoke finally cleared to reveal blue sky. Unlike widely accepted rumors about treacherous driving conditions, we found the road to be in great shape. The highway had a reputation in the 1950s as being a “hazardous journey.” That belief has largely proliferated and is the reason you likely hear more about camper vans, truck campers, and class C motorhomes as the prominent vehicles traveling the highway. Believing those rumors, we considered downsizing from our 42-foot-long, 13.25-foot-tall fifth wheel to a truck camper to make the trek. But it wouldn’t be the same without Tagalong with us. We decided to take the risk, and our home, on the journey. Having traveled about half of the Alaska Highway in our fifth wheel, we can say with confidence those commonly held beliefs are indeed rumors. After all, semi-trucks, many with double trailers, regularly navigate the highway. The road is completely paved (and has been since the 1960s), other than a few short stretches of gravel where construction is underway. The highway is extremely well maintained. Bumpy areas are clearly marked, and white circles outline problem areas that need to be filled. We found the highway to be in better condition than many of the roads we’ve traveled in the contiguous United States. With lots of time passing and hardly seeing any other vehicles, we felt like the road was made just for us.
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AuthorThis is the travel blog of full-time RVers Bob and Lana Gates and our truck, Gulliver, and fifth wheel, Tagalong. Categories
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