The Treacherous Road to Wasilla and Anchorage

Tags

AISES, Alaska, Alehouse, Anchorage, beer, Case Western, Denali, Denali National Park, Denver, Fairbanks, flight, goodbye, hiking, Last Frontier Brewing Company, lyrics, Mt. McKinley, Native American, park, Red, Sarah Palin, snow, solo travel, student, Talkeetna, Taylor Swift, Ted Stevens Airport, tour, treacherous, Wal-Mart, Wasilla

I plowed my way south for about five hours.  I was thrilled to have seen Denali in the morning light, and now I was privileged enough to see the sun set beside it as well.  I stopped for some panoramic shots as well as a cup of coffee to go at The Longhorn Saloon in Cantwell!  Cantwell was a quiet, small town alongside some railroad tracks, a few miles from the main drag.  Inside were two old guys who were chatting over coffee and watching TV.  I don’t think I was an expected type to visit, but the one guy got up and poured me a warm Styrofoam cup for less than a dollar upon request.

I drove, took pictures, drove some more.  I came up on a red truck and passed it.  Another solo woman!  I pulled over and took more pictures and she passed me.  I got back on the road and passed her again.  Later, at a beautiful sightseeing location for the Denali range, I pulled over and hiked to a high point to take photos.  I turned around to find the woman pulling in.  She hiked up beside me and took pictures as well.  Neither of us said anything.  When it was time to go, we both turned to our cars.  She waited for a few minutes while I got in mine and took off before she followed.  I think we both knew I would end up passing her and our game of tag was becoming a little annoying, although funny.

Before I knew it, I had passed the exit for Talkeetna and was swiftly approaching Wasilla.  I stopped at Fishers Fuel and caught sight of a place called the Last Frontier Brewing Company.  I went there for a fish meal and beer.  Local brews, just like I like it!  I had eaten and drank my way through Alaska, but, looking around at the locals, I felt like I had had the real experience.  Then my mind raced back to the fact that I was in Wasilla, Sarah Palin’s very own!  I wondered if I could find where she lived… Sure enough, a Google search proved fruitful.  I typed in the address and realized it was just up the road, where I had just passed.  I paid my bill and took off towards the Palin’s.  I found the driveway and took a picture of the classic road sign in front.  I couldn’t exactly see anything, but I was satisfied.  It was enough for me.  I decided to stop off at a Wal-Mart for a CD to take me the rest of the way into Anchorage.

Sign outside of Sarah Palin’s house.

I would have stopped sooner, but this Wasilla Wal-Mart had been the closest to me on my entire trip north.  My mom got a kick out of my text earlier in the day, when I said “I’m in Healy and the closest Wal-Mart is 117 to Fairbanks or 209 to Wasilla!”  When distances are hard to describe, the amount of hours to the nearest Wal-Mart seems to put remoteness into perspective for most people.  I bought three things at the Wal-Mart: a Taylor Swift CD, an Alaska flag (which I love), and black leggings.  The last item seems bizarre, but let me explain… I had been looking for black leggings in a size small for months and every store in Cleveland was wiped out!  Here, they had plenty, so it was an obvious buy!

I blasted my new CD on the way back to Anchorage.  I have a thing about trips.  I always try to pick a song that, no matter how many times I hear it, will always take me back to a trip, to a place, to a group of friends, to a particular night.  Gangnam Style had become the hit of the Boeing party, a good reminder of the AISES Conference and how much fun I’d had with my Hawai’ian friends.  But my trip up north?  I immediately found my hit: Treacherous.

This slope is treacherous
This path is reckless
This slope is treacherous
But I, I, I, I like it… 

Two headlights shine through the sleepless night and I will
Get you a-, get you alone
Your name has echoed through my mind and I just
Think you should, think you should know
That nothing safe is worth the drive and I will
Follow you, follow you home
I’ll follow you, follow you home…

And it was true.  Nothing safe is worth the drive, at least not one like what I did today!  The more treacherous, the more thrilling, and I now knew that first hand.  Thank you, Taylor Swift, for forever establishing these memories.

As my goodbye to Alaska, I decided to stop in the parking lot of the hockey rink and pack my bags.  It only seemed fitting.  Hockey.  I threw my stuff in the bed and, while the album kept spinning, I rolled my sleeping back and repacked my clothes and poster.  When the time came, I sadly got back in and waved goodbye.  I drove to the airport, left my truck, turned in my keys because it was past hour, then slipped into the airport to check in.

Geese flying through the terminal.

I settled in at a bar and had my final local brew.  As the time ticked away, I realized how fond I had become of Alaska.  I was sad to say goodbye to the city, the state, and the conference, but it was time.  At around midnight, I was boarding my plane and saying my final goodbyes from the sky.  I was absolutely exhausted, but proud of myself nonetheless.  It was a long day.  I slept almost the whole way to Denver, thoroughly worn out.  Regardless, I felt like a real, tired, and gruff Alaskan outdoorswoman.

Snowshoeing in Denali National Park

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AISES, Alaska, alone, Anchorage, bridges, Case Western, Denali, Denali National Park, Fairbanks, Healy, hiking, huskies, ice, Iditarod, Mt. McKinley, mushers, mushing, Native American, park, Pennsylvania, sleds, snow, snowshoeing, snowstorm, solo travel, student, winter, wolves

Behold: The official main entrance of Denali National Park.  I had originally intended to spend the night here, but I was glad I stayed closer to civilization instead.  Following some winding paths up through the park, I was shocked to find several cars in the parking lots.  One couple was even sleeping in the back of theirs.  Like I said, it takes a certain kind of person… I turned to find the welcome center.  Walking on to the porch, I realized the lack of footprints and saw that it was closed for the winter.  My face knitted up into confusion; I knew they offered free snowshoe rentals in the winter, but why was the center closed?  That’s when I turned to see a bear sleeping 10 feet from me and I silently leapt a few feet into the air, startled.  My heart rate soared.  I froze.  The bear was silent and covered in snow.  I squinted my eyes, then laughed out loud – a bronze statue!  Curse you, park rangers!  What a cruel trick!

Walking back to the truck, I decided to check out the place where most of the cars were parked.  Sure enough, a building tucked behind some pines was the winter welcome center.  Inside, I paid a National Park Service fee of $10 and checked out my free snowshoes.  The woman raised her eyebrows at my personal information on the rental form which listed my home as Pennsylvania.  “You’ve come a long way!” she said, and I nodded, thinking, Hasn’t everyone come a long way to get here?  I rushed outside with my shoes, grabbed my camera, and began hiking, map in hand.  I wanted to do every trail, but I quickly realized how out of scale the map was and limited my goals: Find and take pictures of the bridge, then go find the husky pens.

I took off on one trail and, within minutes, was lost.  I turned around.  I took another trail.  It looped back to where I had started.  There were trails before me that weren’t even listed on my map.  I became furious.  The woman had told me to be careful, that hiking was dangerous, especially alone.  You could get stranded and no one would find you for days, the park was so enormous.  I tried to listen to her advice and be careful for as long as my patience would let me, so for about 15 minutes.  Then I shoved the map angrily into my pocket and took off, literally running down the trail.  The work out felt great and I only passed one other lunatic on the trail.

I ran down a slope and into a valley.  Above me, I saw a bridge of sorts.  It was not the one I was looking for and it did not even appear on the map.  Nonetheless, I decided to cross the stream in front of me and go just a little farther.  Standing on the footbridge over the frozen stream, I stopped and took in my surroundings.  I held my breath.  Dead silence.  Then, suddenly, horrible cracking and humming sounds.  I jumped and spun around.  It was the gurgling brook, trapped by the ice.  It creaked and moaned and made me feel more haunted than anything else I had seen so far.  I took off over the next knoll and stopped, staring at miles of tree tops in front and no indication of where I was.  There were little paw prints scattered through the snow, but no indication of animals.  I froze at one point when I looked down to see large wolf-like prints that vanished at the base of the tree.  I looked up into the tree.  Nothing.  Puzzled, I turned around and began the trek back, frequently looking over my shoulder.

I was watching my time, and it was swiftly ticking away.  If I wanted to see the huskies, I knew I had to get going.  I thought I had been retracing my steps, but, as I walked around a trail, I was perplexed to find that my footprints were gone and that nothing but fresh snow and bird tracks lay before me.  Maybe I wasn’t following my own steps after all?  I continued down the trail and found the distinct point where footsteps had stopped and turned around.  I remember having done this and recognized the intersection.  I chose to continue in the direction I had refused to go and found myself rapidly approaching the winter welcome lodge from a different side.  Looking over the trees of the forest where I had just come from, I saw bright pink and purple mountain peaks, hazy with a localized winter storm terrorizing their landscapes.

I returned the snowshoes, thanked the lady for my first snowshoe experience ever, and pet some wolf pelts on my way out the door.  She had indicated on my map where to find the husky pens, and I was relieved to find this road easier to follow.  I drove my truck a couple miles up a mountain side where I was greeted by signs about mushing, huskies, and the Iditarod.  Here was where they kept and trained dogs for mushing.  As funny as it might sound, Alaska was my first time snowshoeing, but I had mushed once before – in Pennsylvania!  Seeing the dogs and sleds brought back fond memories of racing through the woods in Ligonier when I was a teenager.  The man tending the dogs pointed out which ones were out for me to see, and I went around petting and hugging the happy, furry guys.

Huskies are so pretty.  I kept thinking about wolves and dog genealogy as I greeted each one by name, and laughed at how different their personalities were.  Each one would greet me with different degrees of friendliness, but all of the huskies licked my hands aggressively as I tried to move away to the next one.  I got a kick out of the yellow ice that had built up on the sides of the male huskies’ huts.  I was fortunate enough to see one dog who wasn’t in a pen; she was tied to a chain in a village of little, uncontained husky huts.  I hugged her and she was soft and warm.  Then I walked inside the building to marvel at the various sleds inside.  Checking my watch, I decided it was time to move on.

I was sad to leave the dogs and the park, and to turn my back to the unknown that lay north of me.  I wanted to keep going.  I wanted to go to Fairbanks, to meet people, to climb more mountains… but I knew I had a plane to take at about midnight.  I encouraged myself to hurry back by saying, “If you make good time, you can go to a nice restaurant in Wasilla a see a few sites before you go!”  And that’s exactly what I did.  Kissing a handful of postcards for my family and friend Keith, I dropped them in the mailbox on my way out and embraced my next few hours of winding roads.

North to Talkeetna

Tags

AISES, Alaska, alone, Anchorage, beer, Carrs, Case Western, cat, Denali, driving, Fairbanks, merchandise, Mt. McKinley, musher, Native American, Northern Lights, pub, solo travel, Starbucks, Stubbs, student, Talkeetna, West Rib and Pub

I took off rolling, waving bye to Anchorage and promising to be back the next night.  I had a GPS on my phone and an Alaska map on my lap.  I wasn’t exactly sure where I was going, I just knew I wanted to look for the Northern Lights and see Denali in the morning.  The roads were now a little familiar leading into Wasilla, but I knew the road would soon split and I would head a direction I had never gone before.  Every foot I’d go would be new territory.  I didn’t know what was ahead.  I didn’t know what to expect.  I was scared thinking about it, but there was no way I could stop.  It was like an adrenaline rush – then I realized I could use some caffeine to go.

I stopped off at a grocery store (Carr’s) to grab a coffee drink at Starbucks and call my friend Michael.  He had been watching my back at school for that week and we had an assignment due the next day.  “I’ll send you everything I can,” I said.  “If you do, great, but, honestly, don’t worry about,” he said.  “You’re in Alaska, for God’s sake!  Enjoy it!”  Michael is such a great friend.  I did send my share of things his way, but I can’t thank him enough for all the help he gave me by printing out and turning in on time the lab reports I had e-mailed him.  I told him what my goal was for the night: Make it to Talkeetna.

I had really wanted to see Talkeetna, but it had seemed too far out of the way.  Reevaluating, I decided it was the best possible place for me to stop, even if it was on an isolated road 30 minutes away from the main drag north.  I heard Talkeetna had a lot of good tourist things and that it was a quaint town.  Once I got into the long stretch leading into Fairbanks, I wasn’t sure if I’d have a safe place to sleep.  Most things were closed in the winter or obnoxiously expensive.  I didn’t think I could safely drive the whole 6 hours to Fairbanks in one night.  I think I made the best decision.

As night fell, the road became thrillingly dangerous.  I could hardly see beyond the berms, even with my highs on.  I could just imagine a large bear or moose stepping in front of me as a barreled through at 70 miles per hour.  There was no one for miles, apart from an occasional passerby.  When I did eventually creep up on someone, I knew I had to pass them to get anywhere.  I waited for the dashed lines and sang loudly as I blew around them.  Then my radio started to lose signal.  I was beginning to feel very isolated.  Less and less people, next to no houses.  The stars became brighter and brighter.  Lights and reflections were playing with my eyes.  I thought for one instance I saw the Lights, but it was just my eyes straining to make something out of nothing.  In the distance, a small log cabin was emitting a glow and a long snake of smoke that crossed the road.  I didn’t notice the cabin at first.  As I passed through the smoke, I shook and jumped suddenly.  It was as if I had passed through a ghost, the way it had hung so silently, suspended in the cold air in front of me!

The miles were slowly ticking down.  I saw an eerie lantern glow to my left.  It was bobbing along the side of the road and I was swiftly gaining.  Just as I caught up to it, my wild imagination, which had quickly dreamt up explanataions involving bizarre Alaskan monsters in the night, was relieved to discover the real source: a musher and his team of dogs.  As I passed them, their motions were so crisp and strangely lit that I felt like I was watching Polar Express transposed to real life.  I reconsidered the remoteness into which the musher was delving, sans the protection of a warm truck, and gathered a whole new sense of respect for these athletes who regularly and boldly face the brutal winter of the wild Alaskan terrain.

Finally, I saw a sign approaching: Talkeetna, to my right.  I passed a gas station at the turn and continued the last leg into Talkeetna.  It didn’t seem as far as I had imagined, partly because the drive was so easy.  I made a loop around some cabins at the end of the road, trying to decide where to park.  I settled with a space beside a tavern.  I quickly looked up the prices for a bed but I didn’t feel like paying if I didn’t need to.  I decided to look for a map.  Where was I?  I had no concept, other than this was Talkeetna.  The night was brutally dark and pubs were tightly shut to keep in the warmth and quiet murmur of people.  I settled on a shop at the end of the street, hoping they had a Talkeetna map.  They didn’t, but the girl behind the counter was kind enough to draw me one and tell me the intimate details of each store.

It was a small town, but I immediately got the gist: Rivers and boats there, pubs, pubs, and pubs here.  I looked to the back of the shop: a pub.  West Rib and Pub.      “I can eat here?”  “Yup!” she answered, eating her own plate of fries.  “Is there a good place to leave my truck?” I added.  “To sleep in?” she asked, and I nodded, relieved that my crazy plan didn’t seem so crazy to the people here, just to those at home.  “Yeah, over here by the railroad tracks.  No one will bother you.  But, really, anywhere would be fine.”  I thanked her and I walked into the back and took a seat, then texted my mom that I was staying in Talkeetna for the night.  I pulled out the menu and listened as the bartender gruffly spoke to some men at the counter.  She seemed unfriendly and I felt uneasy.  I put in my orders and she couldn’t quite fill a glass of the beer I wanted, so she gave me a small one of another to make up for it.

When my food came out, I put away my homework and continued to observe her.  She turned on Bridezilla and started ripping apart the women verbally and shouting angrily, “These have to be actresses!  This is ridiculous!”  I completely agreed.  I’d never watched something like this before, but it was the dumbest show I’d ever seen.  Women throwing fits over stupid details to overly planned weddings… I didn’t get it.  I went out on a limb and made a comment about how dumb the show was.  The woman turned and looked at me, then smiled, “Exactly!”.  Then began our evening of friendship.

I was soon served more local brews and introduced to Stubbs, the Manx cat that lives in the pub.  I loved Stubbs.  He was so nice, and I held him for some time.  I also bought a T-shirt with Stubbs on it.

Stubbs, the “Mayor of Talkeetna”.

When it was time for closing, I said goodbye to Stubbs, the bartender, and the lady in the shop who came to the back to join us.  I shuffled off to my truck and parked it next to the railroad tracks.  There was a light on at some kind of maintenance building nearby, but I parked so that my back seats sheltered my eyes from it.  I unrolled my 0-degree sleeping back across the back seat and tucked my duffle bag and suitcase beside me in case I fell off.  Then I locked my truck and slid in so I could stare out the window at the sky as I lay there.  I didn’t even bother changing – I was way too cold.  Jeans were perfect pajamas tonight.

My alarm was set for pretty much every hour of the evening.  I would drift off, then wake up again and look for the Lights.  At one point, I thought I saw them through the frosty window.  I slowly opened the door, expecting a wild animal or crazy mountain man to attack, or maybe a train to come barreling through at the moment, but nothing was there.  It was dead silent, as always, and so was the sky.  Curse these scientifically “Quiet” nights!  It was a horrible night for viewing, despite me driving north and despite it being the best time of year.  I couldn’t believe I went to all that effort and never saw them, yet one of my friends looked out her hotel room early in the week and had an instant long enough to photograph them!

I curled up and slept out the rest of the hours in my sleeping bag, planning to leave before the dawn so I could drive and watch for them again.  Dawn doesn’t happen until after 9am, so that wasn’t a problem.  My sleeping bag was ridiculously comfortable.  I could hardly believe how warm I was.  And to think I had been laughed at for saying I’d sleep in my truck in Alaska!  I had nothing but perfect, comfortable nights at the hostel and in the back of my truck.  And now I had my last day ahead of me…  Time to make the best of it!

Anchorage City Tour

Tags

AISES, Alaska, Anchorage, Case Western, Denali, earthquake, Flat Top Mountain, La Cabana, moose, Mt. McKinley, Native American, park, Salmon Berry Tours, solo travel, student, tour, volcano, wind energy

I woke up in the morning feeling like I hadn’t slept at all.  Oh, wait… I’d slept 2 hours.  Hmm, that’s why.  I packed my things up as quickly as I could and ran outside to where the Salmon Berry Tours van was waiting.

Writing on the hostel walls.

This morning was the Anchorage City Tour!  I had wanted to do today’s schedule the first day, but, at the time I had scheduled, the Glacier Tour only had enough people for the day I went.  It probably changed since I reserved, considering I booked months in advance.  Nonetheless, I was eager to see the city by vehicle rather than foot.

We stopped off at a variety of locations.  My tour guide was extremely peppy, which made my eyes droop even heavier.  We stopped off at Earthquake Park.  Walking down a paved train through some trees, we were instructed on how to run from a moose.  Run from moose, stop from bears.  The guide explained that moose can kill.  An old man had walked out of a building in Anchorage days before when a moose turned the corner and barreled over him.  Yes, moose also roam the streets of Anchorage.  It’s a reoccurring problem as they search for food in the winter.  She told us to expect to see a moose and kept checking our backs.  “If you see a moose,” she instructed, “Run away from it.  If it follows you, hide yourself in some trees.  Moose are awkward and will have difficulty seeing how to get to you through the trees.  Moose also have a short attention span.  If they’re looking through the trees, they’ll likely see the lichen on the trunks and start eating.  You can then walk away and they’ll have forgotten about you.”  But we never saw any moose.

The park had diagrams showing the effects of the 1964 earthquake that sunk sections of earth along a fault line.  The earthquake is the largest yet recorded in North America at 9.2 on the Richter scale, second just to the earthquake in Chile.  Photos from the event look incredible; sections of roads just drop off into huge voids, icy ground and trees are heaved into the air in every direction, and objects are lodged into unnatural places, projectiles at the hands of the tsunami triggered by the quake.  I had been wondering what had left so many pine trees dead and needless.  I thought a recent disease had swept through.  No, these trees have been pickled as such since 1964 when the earth drastically sunk and the salty water table reached the roots of many trees for miles along the coast.  It was a bit eerie.

Looking over the sea, we could see a line of wind turbines as well as Mt. McKinley and several volcanoes in the distance.  It was a good day for viewing.  We got back in the van and passed through the local airport, where an incredible number of people pay exuberant amounts of money to keep their personal propeller planes.  Then we ascended Flat Top Mountain.  It was much less intimidating in the day.  The guide couldn’t believe me when I told her we had tried to tackle it in the dark.

From Flat Top in the day, we could see all of Anchorage and beyond.  I stood and took pictures and looked as long as I could, then I slowly crept back to the van and found the snacks.  The only other few on the trip were mostly piled inside already, too cold to stay outside.  I had no idea how I was going to survive my day, knowing I planned to do a second tour and pick up a rental to drive north.  Maybe I just needed coffee.  I told the guide about my plans and she said she was allowed to drop me off wherever I wanted, so she could take me to the airport to get my truck rather than have me hail a cab.  I was relieved.  She dropped me off last and I rushed off to Enterprise.

I texted Kelsey.  They were at a store, about to come to the airport.  I wanted to stay and say another goodbye, but I needed to get moving.  At the rental counter, I asked the guy if the car had 4-wheel drive.  I was remember Albert’s struggles in a big SUV.  “No, but our trucks do,” he said.  “It would be an extra $10.”  I liked the idea of a car, but I knew that could be dangerous if I got stuck alone on the tundra.  “I’ll take a truck then, I guess,” I said, and he made the arrangement.  I was given a Dodge.  It was nice, new, and grey.  Spacious for one, but a lot of options for sleeping and carrying my luggage.  I drove it out of a tightly woven spiral ramp, aware of the car behind me and nervous I was about to hit the wall.  I wasn’t familiar with this car at all and here I was already in a tight place.  I managed just fine and was suddenly thankful for having driven our own GMC and Chevy around plenty during high school.  I’ve even towed our 5^th-wheel with those things.

I rushed off to my hostel to park, quickly learning to drive like an aggressive Alaskan so as to live up to the expectations of my bright yellow tags.  I parked the truck on the street and my stomach grumbled intensely.  40 minutes.  Enough time to eat, if I rush fast.  I remembered seeing a Mexican restaurant called La Cabana close to the hostel and knew I had to quench my thirst for Mexican food.

I’m always in need of Mexican.  I walked quickly, found it, and was seated immediately.  I ordered a cheese enchilada and was overwhelmed by the temptation of a banana margarita.  It wasn’t fantastic, but it worked.  I gnawed on my chips and salsa, then devoured my food when it came.  The chair was unusually C-shaped, so I was slightly uncomfortable sitting in it.  Two little kids in the booth beside me climbed over and kept slipping looks at me, jumping away and giggling when I looked back over and teased them.  Chewing the after-meal mints, I was appalled to see that answering “Would you like guacamole too?” with a “Sure” meant I paid an extra $2 for guacamole that I didn’t even like!  Imagine, guacamole in Alaska… it probably was worth a fortune to get there.  I paid and raced back to my hostel just as the tour guide was calling me.