Start of the Iron Dog

Start of the Iron Dog Snowmachine Race

As I pulled into the tiny town of Big Lake, Alaska, north of Anchorage, I was greeted by the vast frozen lake stretching west before me.  The line of traffic ahead of me crawled through town and turned into the park on the end of the lake and continued down the boat ramp onto the ice.  As I parked, donned my winter gear and ice spikes, I noticed that Denali was visible and lit up far to the north.  Finally the great mountain had shown itself to me on this cold 18 degree day.  It looked like it was a five minute drive away when in actuality, as I had learned a few weeks ago, it was a three hour drive. Today was to be the highlight of my first winter in Alaska, the start of the Iron Dog Snowmobile Race, the longest, toughest snowmobile race in the world.  Starting in Big Lake, Alaska running to Nome on the Bering Sea and then back to Fairbanks for a total of 2032 miles through some of the harshest terrain in the world.

The crowd gathered around the pit area as the the drivers received their final instructions.  The
sleds lined up in pairs ready to head out on the course across the vast Alaskan tundra.  I made my way past the start line to find a spot to get a good vantage point.  People on snowmobiles, 4 wheelers and in side by sides cruised up and down the area next to the starting chute.  Children bundled up against the cold played between their parents legs and small children were being pulled in sleds as the first pair of drivers positioned themselves at the starting line.  The National Guard honor guard stood at attention as a beautiful version of the Star Spangled banner was sung and the Lieutenant Governer said the invocation.

As the announcer counted down, the first pair of sleds raced out the shoot heading west toward the first stop in McGrath hundreds of miles and several hours away.  The teams left in two minute intervals as the 37 pairs of drivers started the race down the chute.  People lined the chute near the starting line and dispersed farther down.  Others rested in their warm trucks and cars keeping warm while they watched the sleds rocket down the chute waving to the crowd and snow flying behind them.  One innovative couple brought their love seat from the living room on the back of their truck to watch the race in comfort.  Bush planes landed on the ice and helicopters hovered overhead waiting to tail the riders on the trail.

Each pair of sleds left the starting line and raced down the chute curved to the left and headed out onto the open ice of the lake.  The trail conditions were reported to be bad with ice and bare dirt areas taking a toll on both riders and machines as the temperatures at times can drop to -60 below zero causing metal to become brittle and snap.  The riders cover every inch of their exposed skin often using duct tape to cover the areas left bare by helmet and goggles to protect the skin from freezing instantly in the harsh temperatures.  As the iron dogs headed out across the tundra, the fur covered dogs are preparing themselves for their run on the open tundra in a few weeks for the Iditerod.  Iron dogs or sled dogs the result is the same as brave souls attempt to overcome the harsh Alaskan environment.

Another trip north....even farther....because I wasn't paying attention

Hoar Frost on a cold December day

Take two as they say in the record business.  I typed this blog the other day but blogspot felt the need to not publish it.  You have to love technology.  Hopefully I can re-write it exactly the same only totally different.

Cabin fever has been setting in Anchorage for me.  The weather has been warmer.  It's been in the 40's a couple of days compared.  Much warmer than the chilly weather back home.  The snow has melted some and it's been raining.  Saturday was a beautiful day.  I saw the sun for the first time in a couple of weeks but the roads were covered with black ice.  I drove  around Lake Hood near the airport.  Lake Hood Seaplane Base is the largest seaplane base in the world.  The lake itself was half frozen over with standing water on the ice.  Not really conducive to taking off with either floats or skis.  Hundreds of bush planes were parked around the lake and the inlets like a marina with bush wheels, skis and floats.  Most of the planes were covered up for winter weather.

The prior Monday was a holiday and given that the roads in Anchorage were dry, I decided to head north to explore.  I headed north through Wasilla, Willow and up to Talkeetna.  I wanted to see if Denali was out.  The giant mountain was hid behind the clouds the last time I drove to Talkeetna.  Unfortunately, it was the same result today although the drive was nice.  Driving through Talkeetna and up through Trapper Creek, I came to the two viewing areas for the giant mountain.  They were closed for winter but seeing a sign for Cantwell, a town that a book I was reading was based in, the decision was made to drive to Cantwell.

Cantwell is a whistle stop town two thirds of the way between Anchorage and Fairbanks.  The small village of about 200 people consists of a gas station by the highway and a cross road.  The road to the right, the Denali Highway, is a 136 mile gravel road through the wilderness.  It is closed in winter and according to research doesn't have any houses on it.  Plans are made to drive it this summer and camp as the whole route is owned by the state. The turn to the left took me into Cantwell which consisted of a dead end road, a roadhouse by the railroad tracks, a fishing guide business and bush plane business.  After briefly exploring the small village it was time to head back home.  Pulling back out onto the Parks Highway toward Anchorage the first sign I passed said Anchorage 214 miles.  214 miles!  I hadn't realized the distance while driving north.  The foour hour drive home went quickly through the valley between the tall mountains.  The road was covered with snow this far north but the day stayed lighter much longer than my previous northern journey.

The days are getting lighter sooner and staying light later.  When I leave work at five it's still dusk now so it's a good feeling that spring is coming.  I can't wait until summer and the chance to explore Alaska more.

"Your life is a journey" I Peter 1:18

Bush plane in Cantwell

A couple of trips north...but not too far.....it's a big state and winter in Alaska

Matanuska River at sunset

The morning starts with cinnamon rolls and tea as I sit and watch the sky begin to grow brighter at 9:30am in south central Alaska.  The plans this morning were to go to the DMV to take the test to get my drivers Alaskan drivers license.  I'm not sure why I need to take a test given that the legal age to get a permit here is 14 and the state doesn't require a vehicle inspection nor proof of insurance to register a vehicle.  Plus Alaska only has 5 state highways and most of the state is only accessible by plane or boat but I digress.  Today's plans not consist of heading to the square to view the ice sculptures that the artists have been working on all week downtown but first some time to blog.

I've driven a couple of times north past Eagle River up the Glenn Highway to explore.  It's hard to get out of Anchorage too much in the winter due to the icy roads.  They are not well maintained and the highway folks here could take a lesson from New York State.  The first trip north only took me as far as Palmer via the old Glenn Highway that is a two lane road that winds through a deep mountain valley into the backside of Palmer.  The road had avalanche warning signs consistently and didn't provide much opportunity to pull over and take pictures of the beautiful winter landscape.  It was a frigid day with the temperature hovering around -3 so getting out of the car wasn't too inviting any way.  That was back toward the earlier part of winter before my blood thickened. The cold then had a terrible dry bite to it.  Now I didn't even flinch when it's that cold.  I don't even zip my coat until it's below 20 degrees.  It's amazing how you get used to things.

The road wound through the mountains and eventually crossed a couple of the rivers that flow into the east end of Knik Arm.  Knik Arm is a portion of the North Pacific that extends from Cook Inlet forming one side of the triangle that encompasses Anchorage.  Turnagin Arm making up the other side with Elmendorf Airforce base hemming it in on the third side.  Eventually the road crossed one of the rivers and it was funny to see that the old bridge that the road used to travel on is still standing.  I've noticed that a lot up here.  They just abandon the bridges and don't tear them down for some reason.  The sun was setting early when I crossed the Matanuska River.  I did venture out of the comfort of the warm car to snap a picture of the setting sun in the late afternoon.  After passing through Palmer and into Wasilla it was an hour drive back down Route 1 to Anchorage for the night.

Matanuska River at sunset on a frigid day

Downtown Talkeetna, Alaska

Driving north on a warm 20 degree day led me through Wasilla up the Parks Highway through Willow and the Talkeetna area.  Willow, Alaska is where the Ididerod Sled Dog Race actually begins at the beginning of March.  The ceremonial start is in downtown Anchorage on 5th Avenue the day before.  I plan to attend both events in March.  The road was mostly clear as the car headed north from Wasilla and the houses became fewer.  The Parks Highway runs north from Wasilla 300 miles to Fairbanks and passes the edge of Denali National Park about half way between.

 I made a quick venture down the 14 mile long spur road that leads into Talkeetna revealing a quaint village made up of the original buildings from its heyday as the supply point for the gold miners panning for gold in the rivers among the Talkeetna Mountains.  The roadhouse and hotel are still there with a few original houses. The Talkeetna Roadhouse has been featured on Man vs Food on the Food Network.  The village today is used as the starting point for expeditions climbing Mount McKinley (Denali to the natives), the highest point in North America.  Mountaineering groups arrive by bus and car with tons of gear to prepare for the onslaught of climbing the towering mountain.  Numerous flying businesses in town offer flight seeing views of the mountains and services to shuttle the mountaineering groups to the base of the mountain 65 miles to the north. The brave pilots land their small planes on the glaciers at the bottom of the mountain using skis instead of wheels for landing gear.  The day I visited, the giant mountain wasn't visible due to cloud cover.  Another trip north will be planned on a more clear day when the roads are in decent shape.

After leaving Talkeetna, a drive of about 20 miles north up the Parks Highway through the endless Alaskan taiga, revealed it was time to turn around.  Denali was not going to present itself to me on this mostly overcast day and the sun was beginning to set although it was only 2:30 in the afternoon. Even just a 130 miles north of Anchorage and the sun was beginning to set even earlier as it was only mid afternoon.  The vast taiga (low land peat bogs and lakes marked by arctic spruce typical of many parts of Alaska) stretched to infinity on either side of the road.  Once turning around to begin the drive south I searched for places to pull off to take pictures of the sunset along the fairly deserted highway.  Finding a beautiful view was easy.  Finding a place to access it was another story.  I decided to climb down from the road to the edge of a frozen pond to take a picture.  The snow along the road looked to be only a foot and a half deep.  A few steps on top of the packed highway snow along the road then down the hill and I sank to my waist.  The snow off the road had to be over 4 feet deep.  Naive me thinking it would be an easy task to jump out of the car was cursing myself for not donning snow pants or strapping on my snow shoes.  Wading through the snow back up the hill to the car was exhausting but worth getting the shot.  I can't wait until the weather clears and another trip north can be planned.

Sunset on the taiga at 2:30 pm

"God never made an ugly landscape. All that the sun shines on is beautiful, so long as it is wild."  John Muir

The end of 2013

It's been several weeks since I've written in this blog.  It's been a busy couple of months with getting settled in Anchorage, starting work, finding an apartment and getting settled.  I was without internet for several weeks so I was unable to write and then needed to find the ambition.  In that time, I have been exploring this small portion of Alaska.  I've been to Whittier twice and Seward once.  Trips to Hope on the south shore of Turnagain Arm as well as north to Palmer/Wasilla and north of Talkeetna.  Talkeetna has so far been my favorite and I have hopes to head back that way later in the winter as well as in then summer.

Turnagain Arm sunrise

Hope, Alaska is a small village founded by the Russians as a trapping outpost hundreds of years ago. Today, there is nothing there except a few houses, seasonal cabins, a school and a few businesses that cater to tourism (hunting, fishing, hiking).  To get to the Hope, turn off from the Seward highway, one must journey along Turnagain Arm of the north Pacific then around the end of the Arm and through Turnagain Pass.  The pass is the gateway to the Kenai Peninsula.  Route 1 leaves Anchorage going south toward Homer and the end of the road.  Literally.  Route 1 ends on the Spit in Homer.  After Hope Junction, the only other major turn off the highway is the road to Seward.

Turnagain Pass

Turnagain Pass

The day after Christmas saw bright clear skies and freezing temperatures.  The temperatures had been holding steady below zero.  The lowest so far in Anchorage being -15.  That day it was a high of 5 degrees as I strapped on my snowshoes, bundled up and headed up a hollow in Turnagain Pass.  The sun had risen but at noon it still had not topped the mountains in the pass.  The path was well worn from cross country skiers and made for easier walking.  A couple of times I stepped out the worn path landed me in knee deep snow even with the snow shoes.  The snow was about 3 feet deep as I trudged up the hollow away from the highway through the evergreens.  It was quiet and serene for the hour I walked up into the mountains.  The sign at the bottom of the hollow warned of avalanches.  It was completely quiet and still as I walked through the pines and small fields.  It was dark in the hollow and the snow had a blue hue.  Despite the cold temperature, it still felt warm with the multiples layers of clothes and having only my face exposed.  Frost built up on my beard as I climbed into the hollow.  The cold here is different than back home.  It's much drier rather the bone chilling damp cold of the northeast.  When I first arrived here, I felt the cold hurt more as it had a bite to it but I quickly adjusted as my blood thickened.  At home, if it was below 15 degrees I didn't venture out much.  Now it has to be below zero to keep me indoors.

 Luckily, before the snow began to fall I was able to make the 100 mile trip south to Seward.  Again, around Turnagain arm and through Turnagain Pass.  Below Hope Junction the travel in winter can be difficult.  Through Moose Pass in the Kenai Mountains avalanches are common and getting stranded in Seward is a possibility.  Luckily, the snow arrived late this year as once it starts it never leaves until spring.  The road was dry and the trip to Seward revealed the tourist and cruise ship mecca closed down for winter.  It was a cold windy day on Ressurection Bay and the emerald green water was choppy.  Mount Marathon behind town was still rock and not snow covered.  A few fishing boats bobbed in the harbor but most had been placed in dry dock for the winter season.  I found an old wooden sailboat (my favorite) at the end of the pier to photograph.  A trip to Exit glacier was an icy walk but enjoyable.  The tourist glacier is close to the end of the path and you can feel the cold coming off the glacier ice.  2014's plan involves several more trips to Seward.  One involving an overnight hike to Lost Lake.  Another, a strenuous hike to the Harding Ice Field.  This is the ice field that Exit glacier spills from and separates the 40 miles between Homer and Seward.  A third hike includes hiking up Mount Marathon.  I can't wait for summer to get here.

Bald Eagle near Exit Glacier

Whittier

Prince William Sound in early winter

View of the Whttier and one of the towns apartment complexes

Whittier is probably the strangest place I've ever been.  The drive to get to Whittier in itself is an adventure.  The only entrance into the town by road is through a three mile long train tunnel.  The tunnel is a single lane and is only open for 15 minutes in each direction per hour.  During the winter months, the doors on either end are kept closed until the line of vehicle traffic reaches it.  The cars drive on the rail road tracks through the tunnel.  The rough rock walls drip moisture onto the smooth steel plate surface of the tracks.  This is kind of like driving on a traditional railroad crossing for three miles.  The only other way into Whittier is by sea via the Price William Sound.  As you emerge from the tunnel you are greeted with a view of the valley that ends in the Sound.  High mountains rise steeply above the road as you drive along the water toward town.

Abandoned Buckner Building

The town is laid out strangely with the main focus being the harbor and docks.  The small tourist area was boarded up for winter as I drove slowly into town with my mouth agape.  The town is dominated by the condemned Buckner Building. The huge abandoned apartment complex that once housed a thousand soldiers and offices gives the town a creepy feeling with it's empty windows and stairwells staring down on the town of 200 people.  The concrete and steel building was heavily damaged during the 1964 earthquake and resulting tsunami that hit Whittier.  The building is full of asbestos and if it was demolished the only way to remove the rubble is through the one lane railroad tunnel or on barges on the pristine waters of the Prince William Sound.  Instead it remains standing as a relic of the days when Whittier was an active Army Base and Railway head bringing goods into Alaska.

 The other striking thing about Whittier is it's lack of houses.  Whittier is a town without any houses.  None. The entire town resides in two apartment complexes.  A small two story complex
across from the hulking Buckner Building a and a larger 14 story building (the largest building in Alaska) farther up the hill behind the towns government buildings that are a row of old warehouses.  The town is strictly utilitarian and is devoid of anything man
made that is aesthetically pleasing. The sole purpose of the town is fishing, the rail yard and the marine highways ferry dock.  The rest of the town consists of shipping containers and the two large apartment complexes.  The wind whipped off the glaciers that sit on the mountains above the town and chilled the air.  The roads were covered with thick ice and was difficult to walk on let alone drive on.  I gladly left Whittier to return to the beautiful Bear Valley on the other side of the mountain.

Wind gusting off a mountain in Whittier

“There is a pleasure in the pathless woods, There is a rapture on the lonely shore, There is society, where none intrudes, By the deep sea, and music in its roar: I love not man the less, but Nature more, From these our interviews, in which I steal From all I may be, or have been before, To mingle with the Universe, and feel What I can ne'er express, yet cannot all conceal.”

― George Gordon Byron

Settling in

Cook Inlet, North Pacific Ocean

The picture shown above is of Cook Inlet in the North Pacific Ocean that Anchorage sits on.  The tide ebbs and flows revealing mud flats that stretch for miles.  The foreground in the picture shows the mud flats while the darker area in the middle is the sea water.  The mountains in the background were illuminated by the setting sun giving them the pinkish hue on the snow capped mountains across the inlet.  The sun at this time of the year barely climbs high in the sky during the day in South Central Alaska.

Autumn Mushrooms in Kincaid Park

It's been unseasonably warm and lacking of snow in Anchorage this year.  I certainly don't mind as it made for a safe trip and the chance to explore a little before the brunt of winter settled in. Finding a nice place to live and exploring what the city has to offer were the first things to accomplish.  A nice apartment on the south side of Anchorage with a view of the Chugach Mountains has been leased.  It was a little wait to move in as the owner was replacing all the flooring and the dishwasher so everything should be nice.  Furniture shopping complete to fill the apartment with the necessities and it was time to explore a little.

Anchorage is built on on a triangle piece of land with Turnagain Arm and Knik Arm of the Cook Inlet hemming it in on two sides.  The third side borders Elmendorf Airforce Base and Richards Army Base.  This prevents further growth in the city and causes half the states population to live in a small area.  Military families are everywhere you go in town and businesses all ask if I'm military as they offer discounts to those that are.  It must be the buzz cut I guess.   I now sometimes ask if they give a military discount and if the Salvation Army counts.  Some stores have actually given me the discount.

Cloudy day on Turnagain Arm, Cook Inlet, North Pacific Ocean

Cook Inlet sunet

A trip one afternoon to Anchorage's Kincaid Park on the point of land between Turnagain and Knik Arms revealed a huge city park with biking, hiking and cross country skiing trails.  The park also had soccer fields and a frisbee golf course.  This seems to be popular here as I've seen people practicing all over the city.  The walk through the park was pleasant and revealed over 10 miles of bike trails and views of the water.  At low tides the mud flats stretch out into the ocean revealing lines and designs in every direction.  Moose scat littered the ground in some places.  Moose are prevalent in the city and coexist with humans in this tight place.  I'm told a few years ago on the UAA campus a gentleman was killed by a moose when he inadvertently walked between a cow and her baby.

Cook Inlet Sunset

They are in city parks and back yards.  A family of 10 black bears also reside in the city virtually undetected.  Alaska State Naturalists discovered them this past year and keep track of them.  In addition to the moose and black bears, grizzly bears reside within the city limits although closer to the mountains.  The city for the past 40 years has expanded off the flats and crept up the hill side.  The area is named Hillside.   Alaskan's apparently are not known for their originality.  One of the worst bear attacks in the states history took place in that area a few years ago when two joggers rounded a corner in a park and met a grizzly bear with a fresh moose kill.  The bear instantly killed the joggers and another man who came to help.  These stories were related to me by Marco, the leader of the Eagle River Camera Club that I joined.  The conversation revealed what I had already begun to figure out about Anchorage.  The small city is filled with urban city dwellers.  Yuppies if I may label them.  They live in a city that only precariously exists on the edge of a vast wilderness.  The city has one road in and one road out.  These going only north and south.  There is only one supplier of electricity and one for cable in the entire state.  The city exists in the wilderness and a lot of the residents have long forgotten this. The saying in Alaska is that "once you step off the pavement you enter the food chain".

Glacial Ice, Byron Glacier

A trip down Route 1 south along Turnagain Arm revealed beautiful views of the water and a dramatic sunset.  This only fueled my desire to explore farther.  Another day's trip led down toward Whittier, Alaska.  The road winds along the Arm hugging the base of the tall snow capped mountain.  Gates along the highway in places wait to close the road off when avalanches occur.  Avalanche signs warn to not stop for the next X amount of miles as the road winds it's way east around the end of Turnagain Arm.  At the end of the Arm, before it turns to the south to cross the glacial rivers that feed the Arm, the Whittier Road turns to the left.  In the distance, in the tall mountains, Portage Glacier looms in the mountain pass.  The road passes the National Park for Portage and Byron Glacier and Portage Lake.  After going through a small tunnel along the rail line, you come to a toll booth.  At this point the road will enter a long tunnel carved through the mountains to the landlocked coastal town of Whittier on the Prince William Sound.  Until a few years ago the town was only accessible by sea, plane or the railroad the government installed when the town was converted for military purposes to a staging point during World War II.  Now the vehicle tunnel goes through the mountain as well but is only open for 15 minutes each hour for traffic going in each direction.  The one lane tunnel carries all the traffic to the town and the waits can be long.  Deciding not to pay the twelve dollar toll, I turned around and headed back to Byron Glacier.

Byron glacier is nestled in a valley next to the valley that Portage Glacier fills.  While Portage glacier ends into a lake, Byron glacier ends with a stream exiting the bottom of the glacier and is a hanging glacier.  The blue ice, compacted by pressure, fills the valley turning the air cold around it. The stream under the glacier has carved a cave revealing blue ice and interesting geometric shapes. The ice is hard and smooth from the wear of ages of movement.  After exploring the cave and awing at the view of the valley below with snow covered mountains glinting in the sun, we climbed up the moraine to the base of the glaciers toe (the end of the glacier).  The moraine's jumble of huge rocks and boulders was a challenging climb that took some time to cross to view the glaciers toe. Mounds of boulders filled the valley at the end of the glacier where it had unceremoniously dropped them on it's retreat as the world warms.  I never had dreamed a year ago that I would be standing on and under a glacier in my life.  I have always wanted to see a glacier before they melted and disappeared. Now I have many within a few hours drive of home.  Plans are being made for next summer to hike along Exit glacier to view the Harding Ice field.  

Exploring the city itself has been an interesting adventure for me.  I'm used to being very rural and have been having fun exploring Anchorage.  Anchorage is a small city by comparison to those in the Lower 48.  I'm told it's about the size of Toledo, Ohio.  I've never been there so I'll take people's word on that as Toledo is not on the list of places I want to visit.  I'm actually not sure if it's on anyone's list of places to visit.  Anchorage has a three story mall downtown, art galleries, a performing arts center and the requisite souvenir shops.  I feel safe walking downtown but parking appears to be difficult.  I'm hoping to photograph the ceremonial start of the Iditerod in March as the dogsleds start on 4th street.  The actual start is the following day in Willow, Alaska just north of Anchorage.  I'm planning to attend both.  It would be fun to see the finish in Nome 1100 miles northwest on the Bering Sea but that is certainly out of my price range at this point.

Anchorage is a lot bigger than I first thought it to be.  It doesn't take long to travel across it but the different sections and areas get confusing.  I've been in the University area and now moving to the Huffman area in the south.  This is a whole different set of roads, loops and all the same businesses as other parts of town.  Generica all begins to look the same to me and gets confusing.  At least I know it's an easy commute to work (around 15 minutes) if I don't forget to turn where I need to. That happens often with me here.

Monday is my first day of work for the University.  It should be interesting.  My first non private sector job.  I'm told the politics at the University is interesting due to being a state university but that doesn't concern me.  My position doesn't require a lot of interaction with people that would involve that.  I was brought on board to run/fix print engines and some IT functions.  A new chapter in a place.  I'm homesick for my mountain, friends and family but determined to live here for a while.  There's so much to explore, see and do.  The point will come when I'll return to Pennsylvania but not just yet.

Eagle near Exit Glacier, Seward, Alaska