Wednesday, July 12, 2006

TA TA

Onie was up at eight and was greeted by a bright sun shiny day.  Outside it was already fifty five degrees and while Onie made the coffee and tea it heated to sixty five in the Marlin.  When the smell of coffee reached the bedroom I lurched out of bed and into the living room where tea waited.

A few minutes later the laptop was on my knees and I pecked away at week seven, trying to finish it so it could be posted before we left to meet Jim and Polly.

Around ten we noticed the shade in Bill and Nancy’s room went up.  This was our notice they were dressed and on their way down to the coach.  Onie was dressed and I was, after a fashion.  The fashion was my robe and it is quite fashionable but perhaps not quite enough to receive company/friends in.  Never having been a slave to fashion, or convention for that matter, we received them with me still in my robe.  When they were comfortably seated I vanished into the rear of the coach for my morning ablutions. 

When I re-appeared refreshed and somewhat clean, if not clean shaven, Onie had our Ziploc omelets ready.  This time they reached the table without mishap and they were enjoyed by everyone.  Then it was time for Bill and Nancy to check out. 

They made the short trip to the coach and our picnic table where Bill repacked several items so he could get three bottles of wine Nancy had bought into their luggage.  Nancy had resigned herself to leaving them with us and letting us bring them home for her but Bill wanted to surprise her by getting them home with them.  Sometime later after packing, repacking, shuffling and reshuffling he had everything packed. 

Then he and I went back to Peninsula Furs to exchange his beaver house shoes.  Somehow after trying on the right size he got home with the wrong size.  Back at the shop we found that the pair he had tried on had left the building.  After some discussion with the owner it was decided that a pair in the correct size would be shipped to him, next week.

Back at the Marlin everything was loaded into Bill’s rent car and then we headed off to Soldotna, them in their car and us in ours.  The Bucket was our destination. 

We arrived just after two, went in and seated ourselves at a table for four next to a window.  Outside the afternoon sun beat down through a copse of birch trees and in through the window lighting our table and menus.  Bill, Nancy and Onie opted for a burger and fries while a salad was my choice.  While enjoying our selections we reminisced about the last few days and their Alaskan experience.  It sounded like they would return next year if their schedule and a few other things worked out.  They’d had a good time but with four drawing near it was time to say our farewells, ta tas, adieus, etc, etc.  Handshakes and hugs were exchanged and then they were gone, headed for Anchorage, a long flight home, but not too long as they were flying first class, and then a short step into the Texas heat.  Hopefully they took a few extra lungs full of Alaskan air with them.

Onie and I headed to the post office to mail a package for Bill and Nancy and pick up our mail and David Matthew’s fishing rods.

Back at Cast Away Riverside we talked to Gary about Kyle’s racing, past and future.  Gary is having good success setting up the cart for the different tracks and Kyle’s driving continues to improve as he takes first more and more often.  They are headed back to Talladega this weekend and then Bristol the following weekend.  Both will be good money races and Kyle could win both if the art setup is right and he drives his best.  It is just the slip between the cup and the lip that makes the difference between a clean sweep and an almost right.  Hopefully there will be no spills and Kyle will take home all the long green with the short future.

Jim and Polly Johnson, our good neighbors and friends from Coldspring, arrived in Anchorage this afternoon.  Now we visited by phone and firmed up our plans for meeting them in the morning.

We hustled over to the laundry to get our wash done before seven when LaVonne locks the room so as not to disturb room guests with washing noises.

While Onie finished the laundry I went back to the coach where more writing was accomplished before a break was taken to put away the outside chairs.  Then the fishing tackle, grill, extra soft drinks and walking sticks followed the chairs into the basement.  While we trust everyone in camp there are itinerants who drive through at all hours of the day and night.  Most of these people are honest but occasionally some locals come through looking for a new rod, reel, net, chair or other little thing to flesh out their collection for the pawn shop.  We have no wish to contribute to these enterprises so we stored everything and locked the basement doors.

When Onie returned with the clean clothes we stored them and then went back outside to get the awning in, already damp with the evening dew.  With it secured we finished up outside and returned to more inside chores.  

We asked one another how it could be so difficult to go on a little five day jaunt but the answers weren’t easy so we let it drop as we finished packing.  At last Onie was through and could find some rest.  It was midnight.

Back at the computer I applied the finishing blows to stories for week seven.  Then pictures for the week were selected and resized so they could be imported to the text prior to uploading.  That was as far as I could take things with my limited knowledge of web site workings.  The eyes were blurring and it was hard to make out the time, two o’clock, as I made my way to the bedroom.

Thursday, July 13, 2006

VALDEZ

Onie was up at five completing the work of readying week seven for uploading.  There were two weeks that would go up but week six had been ready a couple of days and Onie was just waiting to do both weeks at once. 

While she worked I snoozed on.   At seven she woke me.  Frustration was written on her usual smiling face.  She had risen early, imported the pictures, proofed the stories and gotten them ready to post only to find she had no signal from the hot spot.

Hot spots are great when they work and the one here works sometimes.  Sometimes it is slow and at other times it is slower but it does work on occasion, much like some folks I know.  The main problem with the hot spot and the people is you never know when they will work or how fast.  When either does we are thankful.  This morning was not a morning when the hotspot was working in the coach or on the porch of the lodge.  So after staying up til the wee hours and rising at an unseemly time to get week seven up it didn’t happen.

While Onie continued trying to post the two weeks to the web the shower relieved me of a day’s dirt.

We packed the toad with our things, including our breakfast of boiled eggs and sausage checked the outside of the coach one more time and left for Portage at eight thirty.

Down the road a bit we talked to Jim to let him know we would be in around ten to ten thirty and would check in with him when we got closer.  We forgot that we might not have a signal until we were almost there.  That is exactly what happened.

Eating breakfast as we rolled east we watched the scenery unfold.  The sun had long since come over the mountain tops and was almost out of our sight having risen so high.  A gentle breeze swept over the long grass and set it waving as we passed by.  Once again we made the ascent and descent through Turnagain Arm and then approached the marshy lands at the end of Cook Inlet.

Turnagain Arm

In the parking lot of the Kenai Visitors Information Center we got Jim on his cell phone to tell him we had arrived.  He and Polly were at the Portage Glacier Center and would join us shortly. 

Polly at Portage Glacier area

While we waited we went in and reminded the attendant that we were leaving our car for a few days and asked if she would keep and eye on it.  She assured us she would and wished us a good trip.

Jim and Polly arrived in their bright shiny red Chevrolet rent car. 

Our luggage was placed in the truck with theirs and we were off on another adventure.

It has been said that timing is everything.  I would disagree with that but it is important.  Today good luck and a little good timing put us at the tunnel to Whittier at the right time.  We paid our eleven dollars to drive one way through the one mile tunnel and zoomed right it.  The tunnel is so narrow it only permits one way traffic or the passage of a train.  The tracks run right through the middle of the tunnel.  We try not to be in the tunnel at the same time as the train.  That timing thing you know.

Our reservations on the Chenega, the fast catamaran, were for the one o’clock departure.  It was eleven thirty so we parked the car and got out to stroll around Whittier. 

Polly, Jim and Tom

That took ten minutes.  Well maybe it took twenty but it really doesn’t take very long.  Whittier is about four blocks long.  The business district, which serves tourists, sojourners and the sort, consists of espresso shops, ice cream shops, eateries, and shops to book tours and more shops to book charter fishing trips.  One can only be around temptation for so long before the best of intentions dissolve into complete surrender and so it was with us.  Onie and Jim were soon sipping a latte while I was clutching a Chai tea latte.  Polly held out.  It is good to have someone around who is strong and can lead one back from their errant ways, when they are ready to be led.  She soon led us away from the ice cream shops and to the ferry terminal.  

Onie checked us in and got our tickets.  Polly got us back to the car without letting us have an ice cream and then we waited in line to board the Chenega, a half hour.  An ice cream would have made the wait pass quicker, don’t you think?

The Chenega is a new ferry but only holds twenty five cars and two hundred fifty passengers.  Other ferries take six hours while Chenega makes the run from Whittier to Valdez in two and a half hours.  We were in for a fast ride.

At the designated time the deck crew cast off mooring lines, the captain eased the ship out of the dock and we were off.  Gaining speed we passed a sea otter, lying on his back, watching us sail off into the pristine waters of Prince William Sound.  The gain in speed was barely perceptible but soon our rapid transit became apparent as we passed slower craft and islands appeared and dropped astern with rapid regularity.  Except for the brief period when we were exposed to the swells from the open sea we might have been sitting or standing in our own living room, the ride was so smooth.   The lack of ice cream set in sometime during the crossing and we had to give in to a snack.  Not a big one you understand just something to occupy the space that could have been filled with ice cream, ice cream that would surely have been tastier than a pita pocket and coke.

Prince William Sound

Glacier Closeup

A park ranger pointed out where the Exxon Valdez had gone aground while her captain was in his cups.  While scientists and tree huggers continue to bemoan and flagellate themselves and others about this misfortune and its lasting ill effects on the Sound there were none visible to me.  Yes, I recognize I am just a part of the great unwashed mass that has neither book learning nor wisdom that only years of higher learning can impart.  On the other hand I do like to think I have a modicum of common sense, often missing in those whose names are followed by enough letters that they become meaningless.  If you wish to think that means the persons involved and the designations they purport to have, so be it.

Moving right along, how do you like three dollars a gallon gas?  Yes, we know the Arabs, oil companies and legislators all want a chunk of the money pie that black gold represents and are responsible for this unreasonable costs we face.  Are there any other factors?  The ranger on board after pointing out the place of grounding proudly mentioned that today all oilers entering the Sound now have a double bottom, a reasonable requirement and one that does add cost to a gallon of gas but they also must be accompanied by two more ships to assure a safe passage.  What does that cost and how will that prevent a grounding?  Will an accompanying ship interpose itself between a ship off course and the shore or will they simply report the accident?  If they interpose themselves between the errant ship and the shore, will the resulting collision cause a spill that will be less or more damaging and if they will just report the grounding why does it take two ships?  Wouldn’t a good sober pilot boarding the ship before it enters the Sound be more effective and cheaper? Perhaps we should all take a look at the cost of over regulation in delivering a gallon of gas to us.  After that we could begin to look at the price of toasters, cars, insurance and everything else we use along with the fact that if our government wasn’t so big it couldn’t be so intrusive.

While these ruminations occupied me others of our group were busily recording our passage on the memory cards of their cameras.  Thank God for pictures, otherwise the readers would only have the ramblings of Pawpaw to relate the summer happenings to them.

When Valdez was reached our captain, who must have been sober, brought our vessel in without so much as a bump and when the order was given we drove off the boat.

To those of you who have been to Coldspring, Texas for a visit or for Christmas on the Square you will remember that our town is not a big town but it is our town, all six hundred ninety one residents.  Valdez is a little bigger at about four thousand and it could be argued that Valdez is economically more important than Coldspring but that doesn’t really count in the overall scheme of things.  It is the people that are important and our people are important, at least most of them but we won’t include most politicians if push comes to shove.

Valdez does happen to be the terminal of the Alaskan pipeline.  The pipeline, nearing thirty years of age, delivers crude oil from the north slope of Alaska to the storage tanks in Valdez.  Later it is loaded into tankers for transport to refineries, some of them in Japan.  If you must ask why Japan the answer is simple, they pay a higher price than the lower forty eight is willing to cough up.  It is economics one-o-one, students.  Oil and the pipeline terminus is the backbone of the Valdez economy but tourism is the arms and legs.  No matter which direction one looks it is obvious that tourists are in the line of sight.  It can be at a RV park, a hotel, a motel or the local restaurant.  They are everywhere, like a plague, but a plague with money so they are welcomed for the short season that passes as summer here a bout.

Driving away from the port it was easy to find our lodging for our first night on the road.  The Aspen at Valdez is right in the heart of town which means it is surrounded by about four or five blocks of other lesser buildings.

After we checked in and left our bags in our rooms we went out to see the sights.  First we looked for a sea otter which we found resting, between dives, in a little bay across from the small boat marina.  Even though we were unwilling to admit that it was supper time the otter had his priorities straight as he dove for his dinner.  After a dive he would come up, look at us, blink as if to say, aren’t you hungry, and then dive again for more of his meal.  We were unable to withstand much of his insightful gaze and so we soon left to look elsewhere for excitement.  We soon found it in a rock quarry that was part of the terminal moraine of the receding Valdez glacier.  We watched as the glacier melted and added to water that would soon be in Prince William Sound.  After a few minutes of watching we really couldn’t see any difference in the volume of the glacier and after holding a group discussion, like scientists do when problem solving, we decided the glacier wasn’t melting after all.  If it were melting one could see it just like a melting ice cube.  We left.  Locals like to put one over on the tourists and we knew we had been had so we quietly went away.

By now the silent message from the sea otter was sinking in.  After another meeting of the minds we decided on Chinese food for our last meal of the day.  By sheer luck we picked the better of the two places in town, or so the proprietor told us, as we entered and took a table at a window.  After waiting for quite a long time to be acknowledged by a waitress we knew this was the best place.  Why else would they wait so long to take care of us?

Eventually we did get a glass of water, then a menu and eventually we even placed our orders.  When the food arrived it was tasty and what the meat lacked in tenderness it made up for in volume.  These people had met my Mom at one time or another and knew how to cook meat to make one chew their food very well before swallowing it and to take their time doing it.  The pork Onie and I had required tenacious mastication preparatory to ingestion.  Did you get that?  The pork was tough and we had to chew like crazy to get it tender enough to swallow.  She sent hers’ back but I refused to give in and ate all of mine.  By the time I finished chewing the fat it was time to go to bed.

We drove to the hotel where we got to bed around ten.

Friday, July 14, 2006

FAIRBANKS

Continental breakfast usually means coffee, tea, croissants and sweet rolls.  That was not the case this morning at seven when we got to the little dining room the Aspen Valdez set aside for the event.  The coffee, tea, croissants and sweet rolls were there but in addition there were four different kinds of cold cereal, oat meal, waffles, fruit, juice and soft drinks.  I probably left something out but it was very good and got us off to a good start after a restful night.

At eight we were in the car headed for the local fuel bar where we bought five gallons of gas for only three twenty six a gallon.  Thank you very much for those two ships protecting that tanker.  I feel so good!

With a full tank and a lighter wallet Jim drove us onto the Richardson Highway and north toward Fairbanks.  It was only three hundred fifty six miles, about seven hours.

Just out of Valdez the road entered Keystone Canyon.  On either side mountains rose steeply, towering above us and shutting out what little sun was coming through a cloudy misty sky.  The wet falling from the sky couldn’t dampen our spirits.     

Soon the falling water of Horse Tail Falls came into view and we pulled off the road, along with other travelers, to crane our necks and train our camera lens on this natural wonder.  While we gazed the damp cold crept under our light coats and reminded us the car was warm and dry.  We got back in and continued our journey, right around the curve.

Tom and Jim at base of Falls

Keystone Canyon and Lowe River across from Horsetail Falls -- Tom, Sylvia, and Polly

Then we stopped again to marvel at Bridal Veil Falls.

I also marveled at the lack of imagination of namers when it comes to waterfalls.  I believe I have seen Horse Tail and Bridal Veil Falls in several countries on different continents.  Perhaps it is just an unnatural fixation with horse tails and bridal veils although I fail to see a direct connection.  Some, certainly not me, may say that many horses’ tails have been hidden under bridal veils.  One must make that decision for themselves as I refuse to go there.

The first glacier we saw up close was Worthington.  Our camera had died but Jim’s was working just fine so he took some pictures for us.  Onie, Polly and I walked toward the terminus where we could feel the colder air coming from the face.  Jim viewed the “dirty ice” from the car.

We had come a full hundred miles in the three hours since leaving Valdez but during that time we had already seen much and additionally we had left the clouds and rain behind.

The snow covered mountains were still with us but further away now and spruce and birch trees grew along the roadside and on the hills.  One could only imagine the bears and sheep that were hidden from view by the vegetation and distances.

Signs told us we were nearing Copper River and its tributaries.  Bill and Nancy had fished one of the tributaries for King Salmon and now we were passing near.  It was the first time for me and Onie as well as Jim and Polly.  This was the one major highway we hadn’t traveled on previous trips.

Cold rain returned and pounded on the car, sometimes sounding like hail but we couldn’t see any evidence of it.

Paxson Lake is a long body of water and lies west of the highway.  We soon saw it and knew the junction of the Richardson Highway and the Denali Highway was close.   A few minutes later the two story building that houses most of the business district came into view.  The majority of the forty four residents live just behind the building in a hodgepodge of buildings that can only be called Alaskan red neck.

We took a left turn and headed nineteen miles west on the Denali Highway to the Tangle River Inn.  We passed it to go three more miles to give Jim and Polly a look at the unpaved portion of the hundred thirty eight mile road which connects the Richardson and Parks Highways.  A few feet onto the gravel and potholed road we turned around and went back for lunch at the Tangle River Inn.

The menu had a good variety to offer but we each decided on fish, halibut, and chips along with many glasses of water, for our lunch.  While we ate we looked out on the lake where canoers paddled and fished for lake trout.

Denali Hwy. Potholes (lakes created by receding glaciers)

After pie a la mode we loaded back in the car and headed for the Richardson highway.

Delta Junction is a good sized town, by Alaskan standards, and we soon got there and passed through it in five minutes or so.  The highway number changed but our direction didn’t.

All day we had looked for wildlife.  Jim spotted a moose just off the road and we stopped to look and get a picture.  While stopping Polly spotted a second moose.   Jim managed to get some good shots of a young bull feeding in the trees and lamented that he only had a camera.

When the moose had been watched and photographed to our hearts content we moved on, allowing other necks to crane and shutters to click.

A bit further we saw a fur shop that also sold ice cream.  We went in and looked at the furs but bought the ice cream.  When the last of the cold snack had been eaten and the sugar cones completely crunched we continued on our way.

Most folks love Santa Claus and many of us believe in his spirit if not his person.  Prior to trimming my beard, to a length more acceptable to Onie, I was mistaken for the red suited man on many occasions.  Many times it was by folks who were senior to me but they seemed to enjoy getting to greet “the man” and several times doors were held open for me by the cutest lols, that would be “little old ladies”.  Now as we pulled in to the parking lot of the Santa Claus Haus in North Pole, Alaska we were about to get to see him once again.  Inside the Haus were toys, knick knacks, clothes, books and sundry items fit to be given at Christmas or any time of year.  Delicate items waited to be handled and dropped, mark that sold please, so we kept our hands in our pockets.  By keeping our credit cards in our wallets we escaped unscathed from the elves and elfins who smiled at us from behind cash registers strategically located throughout the store.

Our drive for the day ended at the Fairbanks Best Western at eight o’clock.  While the day had been enjoyable none of us were reluctant to end the drive.

We checked in and agreed to meet back in the lobby at eight and from there to go to dinner.

Dinner was taken at the in house restaurant.

Later we went to our rooms where Onie and I watched a little news before retiring at eleven.

Saturday, July 15, 2006

A BIG DAY

Breakfast found us back in the in house restaurant where we each ordered eggs, caribou sausage, hash browns and toast.  Coffee and tea were added for those who wanted one or the other.

By ten we were on our way to the museum at the University of Alaska at Fairbanks.  Upon our arrival we found that the museum building had been greatly enlarged since our last trip and an extensive collection of Alaskan art added on the second floor.

Te botanical gardens which are a part of the University were a riot of color and refreshing treat of sweet smells, for the most part. 

We lingered there until we had to move on for the tour at the Large Animal Research Station.

Caribou, reindeer and musk ox are being studied at LARS.  During our one hour tour the comely young fast talking communications major that was our guide explained how the musk ox are being studied to determine how they can deliver healthy young when their principal diet is lichens and browse.

In addition the reproductive cycles of the caribou and reindeer are being studied.  The animals in the study are weighed, measured and get a weekly health check as well as having samples taken of blood and stomach content.  The scientists hope to someday be able to use their findings to help us have healthier babies while eating less.

Since we were going to Ester later in the evening we had to hurry on to Wal-Mart.  Several long days had passed since we’d had the pleasure of hearing “Welcome to Wal-Mart” so we stopped in for a hearing check.  If we each heard that familiar phrase we would be admitted and permitted to spend money.  If not we would have to wait in the car.  All of us passed.  Onie and I had a list of one item.  We left with nineteen.  Jim and Polly did better but may have still over shopped their list.  Treasures in hand we rushed off to the motel to get ready to go to Ester.

The old bunkhouse in Ester, now the dining hall, was about fifteen miles from the Best Western.  We arrived and found a parking spot before picking up our tickets for the show, in the World Famous Malamute Saloon.  Tickets tucked in our pockets we wandered through the big old town, all four buildings, before going to supper.

Our first stop was to take a peek in the Malemute Saloon.  Inside a small cluster of guests sat around a small bowl on the floor.  In the bowl were some peanuts.  Why anyone would watch a bowl of peanuts was beyond us but they were tourists, after all.  As we watched the folks watching the bowl of peanuts a squirrel scampered in under the swinging doors and ran toward the bowl, stopped to check his escape route, then continued on to the bowl where he quickly grabbed a peanut and headed for the door.  Soon he was followed by another.  We wondered how an Alaskan squirrel had learned to eat peanuts, a distinctly southern legume.  My best guess was he hitched a ride on a camper headed north, to beat the summer heat, and missed his ride home.  Now he was reduced to stealing peanuts. 

We ambled on around the remaining buildings before heading off to supper.

The usual fare was on the buffet table, homemade biscuits, wild blueberry jam, caribou stew, king crab legs, fried chicken and many other items of little or no significance.  When we had eaten our weight and the weight of the folks at the next table in the above delectable dishes we waddled over to the Malamute Saloon and got a table at the front, next to the stage.

Prior to the beginning of the show we went on stage and got a waitress to take a picture of us.

The piano player began about ten minutes til nine.

A recitation of a Robert Service poem relating to Sam Magee opened the show.

Then the cast of four swung into rollicking tunes of Alaska, her history, traditions and heroes.

An hour into the show they took a break.  When they came back fifteen minutes later they did a rousing half hour, more Service with a smile and more songs and skits of Alaska.  When the final curtain was pulled closed the audience gave a ringing round of applause.  The house lights came up on the plywood floor and again we saw the double tree hanging from the exposed rafters along with the well worn saddle with the high pommel.  Elsewhere hung coal oil lanterns, cross cut saws and other memorabilia of earlier days.

It had been a long day.  We were thankful for the short drive home and the misting rain put us in the mood for a restful night’s sleep.

For me and Onie that sleep came about eleven thirty.

Sunday, July 16, 2006

THE GREAT CABBAGE HUNT

Breakfast was taken in the motel restaurant at eight.  Everyone had the same thing, blueberry pancakes, bacon, coffee and tea before we checked out.

We drove through downtown Fairbanks looking for shops that sell gold but they were all closed so we went on to Safeway where all of us participated in picking up things for the coming week

We stopped at Fred Meyers to fuel up before heading down the Parks Highway. The surface on the Parks Highway is perhaps the best of all the highways in Alaska but then it needs to be as it carries a big volume of traffic.  Jim was in the navigator’s seat and the girls rode in the back as we headed south past Ester, where we had been just a few hours earlier.  To our left were the remnants of the last gold mining operation at Ester.  To our right the tree covered hills rose toward the distant mountains. Snow still clung to their peaks and lay in some of the high valleys, a testament to the lingering cool weather.

Riding along we reviewed our Safeway purchases form Safeway.  Supper tonight was to be corned beef and cabbage.  We had purchased the corned beef but somehow had overlooked the cabbage.  Now the lack of cabbage occupied the ladies conversation as they watched for a place to buy cabbage.  Few stores, and none large, are found on the highway between Fairbanks and Grizzly Bear RV Park and Cabins where we were to spend the next two nights. 

At Trappers Creek, an RV park, grocery store and gas bar we stopped for fuel.  The cabbage search continued to no avail.  Onie thought to substitute one purchase for another and so got a latte just so as to contribute something to the local economy.  It also helped her stay alert for the great cabbage search.  Soon we passed through Healy which boasted a store and post office.  They were closed up tighter than a miser’s wallet.

Just north of the entrance to Denali a large, by Alaskan standards, commercial development has sprung from the permafrost.  Shops galore, motels, charter services, fueling stations and a small store along with ice cream shops and other offerings necessary to the tourist trade stood on either side of the highway.  We stopped at the “grocery store”.  It may have actually have carried some comestibles some time in the distant past and even today some may have agreed that there were still some tasty items available.  My eyes, when I entered the store, first spied the omnipresent tee shirts, then the sun glasses, mosquito repellant and finally the groceries; chips, chips, chips, more chips.  Then there were the cookies, soft drinks, white bread, canned vegetables, cinnamon rolls, donuts, coffee, soft freeze ice cream and even catsup but no real groceries and certainly no cabbage.  The young lady working the cash register, who looked as if the last time she 

had seen a hair brush was on her fourth birthday, flashed me a rather quizzical smile when I inquired about the absent cabbage.  No, they didn’t carry cabbage but she had seen one once.  It had been growing in the flower bed in front of the post office in Healy.  She suggested we return there and appropriate it for our own use.

In the car the suggestion was passed on but the ladies nixed the idea of stealing government property so we journeyed on to our destination, Grizzly Bear, etc, etc.

Onie had made the reservations months before, after viewing the website, so she went to check us in.  Jim, Polly and me waited patiently in the car, dreaming of the beautiful two bedroom housekeeping cabin overlooking the river where we would soon be resting our weary heads.

Onie returned with the key and we made the short drive up the steep hill to the cottage named Alpine.  Everyone hustled out of the car and with Onie leading the way we trooped around the house and finally in the door.  Oops! A quick survey of the room and an inventory of the kitchen told us we were at the wrong cabin.  The only thing in the kitchen to cook in was a skillet and quart sauce pan.  We beat a hasty retreat to the office where Onie explained to the Russian clerk that a mistake had been made.  Any resemblance to the picture of the cabin on the web and our cabin was purely incidental and any resemblance to each other was merely a mistake, she thought.  The Russians capitulated to capitalism and apparently learned well.  The cabin we had rented was the one we had seen and if we looked carefully we might find something recognizable.  It was suggested that viewing the thing through a wide angle lens might facilitate finding those slight similarities and any event the credo of American business was, always has been and always will be, as this Russian well knew, caveat emptor.  In the polite vernacular we had been had.  It was late and we had a dilemma, not a choice.  A dilemma is either or, a choice is one of three or more.  We pondered for thirty or forty five seconds before realizing the Russian bear had us between the beds in the cabin and the car.  We opted for the beds and began unloading the car.  When the car was sufficiently un-laden we decided to head back toward Denali and into the park itself to look for animals.

Second Bedroom

First to greet us was the state bird, a ptarmigan crossing the road with a chick.  We completed our drive in as far as the pavement went, to the guard shack where traffic must turn around.  Reversing our course we started back out.  To our left, silhouetted against the mountains we saw a hawk and kite as they soared on evening thermals, hunting for supper,  A short distance down the road we found what they were looking for but apparently were unwilling to get due to its’ proximity to the road, a very young hare.  It was very busy gnawing on an exposed root and permitted Onie to approach close enough to get a portrait shot of it.

The hare was enough to send us on our way, back to our humble abode and supper.

In the one utensil large enough to cook in for four people, Onie and Polly put together a hearty stew.  Before we ate it we thanked God we had opted for beds instead of the car.  We also remembered our friends, Steven, in Nova Scotia, Haskell, Elaine, Ann and Dave in Coldspring and Gale in Houston.  Each has health problems and we prayed for their speedy and complete recovery.   After supper we read, visited, revisited the day and our surprise upon first seeing our accommodations and then readied ourselves for bed.

We had seen much, been on the great cabbage hunt, been in awe of our lodgings, witnessed God’s handiwork soaring in the sky and eating on the ground with the backdrop of awesome mountains decorated with snow.  It had been a day.

At nine thirty we turned out the lights.

Monday, July 17, 2006

A DAY AT DENALI

A restful night had prepared us for the day at hand.  All hands were stirring by six thirty with Jim and Polly already dressed for their adventure.

Onie cooked breakfast for Jim and Polly while I showered.  Once again I skipped the shaving part.

Under cloudy skies with the temperature hovering around fifty Jim, Polly and I set off for Denali.  The short drive took eight or ten minutes and they stepped out of the car at the reception center at seven fifty.

By eight o’clock Onie and I were seated at the table having our breakfast.  The temperature had managed to climb to fifty but with the dampness in the air the chill went to the bone.

Not much was available on the TV cable but Fox News was there.  We watched awhile to catch up on the news; wars, rumors of war, killings, pestilence, starvation, depravation, epidemics and dishonesty in high places.  That was in the first thirty minutes and that thirty minutes was enough to tell us nothing had changed in the last few days, months, years or millennia.  We turned it off.

Laptop on my knees I lost myself in the reality of writing up the events of the last few days.  No thought was given to spinning the news or shading the truth.  Such is the plight of the honest man who sits down to record the history of his personal life and those he comes in contact with.  It is indeed a mighty chore to be contended with endlessly and enjoyed mightily.  I did, I do and I will.

Onie set off to shop for things for supper looking as though she had just left our home on Lake Rd.  Those lucky enough to see her today should consider themselves fortunate.   Driving to Healy Onie saw a moose but had no camera.  Later she reminded me to never leave home without it but there is no need to carry the American Express card when one is in the woods.

The writing continued while Onie shopped and Jim and Polly rode the bus through Denali National Park, looking for wildlife and marveling at the mountains that towered around them and their fellow tourists.

Onie got home with her treasures and started supper while watching Fox over her shoulder.

By the time I left to get Jim and Polly three complete days had been recorded.

On the way back to Grizzly Bear they related how they had seen wolf, bear, ptarmigan, caribou, dall sheep, precipices, unbelievable winding rocky roads, tundra, snow capped mountains and perhaps most exciting a wolf trailing a caribou.

The caribou was on to the wolf and had taken to a stream to wash away his scent but the wolf was persistent and kept up the chase.  The caribou was holding his lead but he was tiring and his tongue was hanging from his mouth as he passed out of sight.

We went into the house and Onie was still working on supper.

Jim and I went to shop for knives and some Alaskan medallions.  He got the medallions but no knife.  I got nada.

Back at our cozy cabin supper was ready to be eaten; salad, spaghetti, carrots and razzleberry pie topped with vanilla Hagen-Dazz ice cream for dessert.  It turns out that razzleberry is a mixture of raspberries and blackberries.

Resting after supper we sat and visited while watching Fox.

Ten o’clock found the lights out with everyone in bed.

Tuesday, July 18, 2006

IN TO CAMP

Early to bed early to rise makes a man healthy and wise, according to Ben Franklin.  Early to rise makes a man cranky according to Pawpaw but nonetheless we were up at seven.

Breakfast was bacon and eggs.  Our skillet fried toast was laden with marmalade and each bite was washed down with either hot tea or coffee.

Packing ensued and then several trips were made to the car to pack our increasing load and then we headed for the camp, with Jim driving.

Denali, the mountain, is seen on an average of four days a month and so far the four days hasn’t coincided with Jim and Polly’s visit.  On our journey south we continued to look for Denali and made a couple of stops at “viewing points” to no avail.  We did get a picture of the range and the surrounding mountains courtesy of the parks department.

A few years ago we stayed overnight at Trappers Creek.  Today we stopped for gas and a  latte for Onie.

Wasilla was just down the road and on arrival we stopped to call Jim’s horse friends. Pictures were shared and lineage was traced on charts and verbally.  It was interesting to find that the floor in the barn is heated in the winter even though the temperatures are relatively mild, by Alaskan standards.  They have a few days below zero.

An hour or so later we were on the road again heading for Anchorage via Wasilla.  As we neared Anchorage the traffic speed increased, a sure sign of urban hustle.  The impatient drivers were dodged, let by and yielded to as we made our way southward on the west side of the city.

Around Cook Inlet we flowed with the rest of the Kenai bound folk, past Birdwood, Girdwood and then on to the Kenai Visitors Center where we had left the Subaru, days before.

Now we stopped to retrieve it.  Polly and Onie got their purses and transferred to the Subaru leaving Jim and me with the luggage and the rent car.  Jim chose to co-pilot here so with me driving his car and Onie driving ours we set off on the last leg to the camp.

Now Jim was able to devote his attention to the grandeur spread before us while I minded the traffic and driving.  Time passed along with the miles.  The meal we had hours before was barely a memory so when we got to Suzie’s we pulled in.  Suzie’s is a good place to take the wrinkles out of your stomach.  We did that.  Three of our party got the Captain’s Dinner while I opted for batter fried halibut.  Having eaten there before I knew the size of the servings and wanted to have space for dessert.  I was the only wise one there so when dessert time came it was too embarrassing to eat in front of the guest so I had to pass on the blueberry pie.  I had an extra glass of water to fill up the remaining wrinkles in my stomach where carb laden pie should have been.

The last few miles of our homeward trek took us on the longer section of Scout Loop Road as we looked for moose grazing before they retired for the night.  Either we were too early or too late or else the moose chose to take their repast elsewhere since we arrived at the coach without a moose glimpse.

It had been a long day but we still had to unload the car and put the coach back in living order but we were in camp.  The awning was put back out.  It had been retracted to prevent damage if there were high winds.  Table and chairs were removed from the basement and put in their places.  Fishing tackle was checked and sent off to the river with Onie and Polly and they were on their way to catching an Alaskan Sockeye.  When the last of the set up was complete Jim and I took our rods and reels and headed for the fishing grate.

Everyone fished until the last ounce of energy had been drained from the bodies then those bodies were taken to the coach and readied for bed.

It was lights out at midnight.