Wildlife Refuge Tour

Tags

AISES, Alaska, Anchorage, animals, bears, Beluga Point, buffalo, Case Western, Chugach State Park, eagles, elk, Girdwood, Heather Spruce, hockey, lynxes, moose, mountain goats, muskoxen, Native American, owls, ravens, Salmon Berry Tours, Sarah Palin, Seward, solo travel, souvenirs, student, tour, whales, wildlife refuge

“You’re the first one I’m picking up, so you get dibs on the front seat if you’d like!” the tour guide outside of my hostel smiled at me.  She was sweet and blonde and loved her job, you could just tell.  I opened the front door, feeling privileged.  I had envied the British man on my group this morning who had gotten to sit in the front and I’d wondered how that had transpired.  The front seat was still a part of the same compartment as the rest of the bus, but it was more comfortable and slightly private.  Talking to the driver here was simple.  She introduced herself as Heather.  She confirmed my suspcions by elaborating on her passion for giving tours of Anchorage and meeting new people.

Heather’s driving frightened me slightly at first.  She seemed almost distracted talking to me, but I quickly learned to trust her.  We picked up the rest of the people and took off for Seward to a wildlife animal refuge.  I was anxious to compare this refuge to the one at home where I often help my mom feed, clean, and medicate wounded animals that we later try to release to the wild.  On the couple hours to the site, we stopped off at Beluga Point in Chugach State Park.  This is where whale watching occurs in the warmer months.  Behind us, we scanned the mountains for goats.  I was disappointed to not see anything roaming about.  It was too cold for even the animals.

The drive to the Alaska Wildlife Conservatory in Girdwood was incredibly packed with conversation.  I took in the views of children playing ice hockey over miles of frozen lakes, all while being absorbed by talking to Heather.  We talked about hockey, her family, my family, my frustrations from living with my brother, what I was doing in Alaska, what I was doing in school, wind energy, etc.  We hardly remembered anyone was behind us in the bus.  Then we arrived and Heather pulled over by a pen for us to begin looking at animals.

Note the pickled tree.

The refuge was located in another typical valley between mountains.  Wind ripped through the corridor.  There were small barns and huts littered around a central welcoming center.  By each little building was a fenced in pen holding different categories of animals.  We stopped by pens of moose, bears, eagles, and more.  The bears didn’t feel like coming out and it took a while to coax them.  Heather called them by name, then said she felt guilty because she knew this trick meant they’d come for food.  But they didn’t come.  We only saw two dodge away into some distant bushes.

I went to the baby moose pen.  Two little guys were fighting over chunks of pumpkin.  The pumpkins all around the pens and welcoming center were remnants of jack-o-lanterns donated by locals.  I laughed as the babies butted heads, literally, over the same piece of pumpkin where there were dozens of other pieces at their feet, some bigger and meatier.  I then laughed again as they bent down to eat them.  Moose are so silly!  They bend their front legs and get down on their front knees to reach things on the ground.  How awkward is that!  I saw some people reach their hands through to touch the moose.  This angered me because the sign clearly said not to touch them – they could get diseases and die.  What good did touching that moose do for them if it posed such a horrible risk to the babies?  I wanted to touch them, but I refused to be a hypocrite.  They were funny enough just watching, anyway.

At another pen, I watched some elk stand around and watch us back.  Someone got too close to the fence and a male came charging towards it.  This was the moose Josh had warned me about; his group had arrived very early and done this tour before the day we did the glacier tour.  He said his cousin Brennan and Kaleb had intimidated an elk who charged them, too.  I looked at the majesty guy, defending his women.  He had wire tangled in his antlers.  Fighting fencings was apparently a hobby of his, and he felt victorious with every charge.

When we got back in the bus, we drove around to see the buffalo.  A Plains Indian man in our group got overwhelmingly anxious at the site of them.  I couldn’t help but smile.  Buffalo mean a completely different thing to him than most.  Signs told him not to go to near to the pens, but he couldn’t resist to get some good photos.  I took a picture of a raven perched watching us, then Buffalo Man joined me in viewing the lynxes.  “Bibi!  Bibi!” he kept calling to the pretty kitties.  They strutted around, jumping on logs and climbing down to sip streams of water, completely avoiding him.  I love cats.  I slipped around the side of the pen and stared at one quietly.  He stopped and stared back.  I lowered my eyes slightly, then raised them again to look at him questioningly.  He was ignoring the man calling “bibi” at his back.  I cocked my head and he began padding straights towards me.  He stopped in front of me.  I took a few pictures, then put down my phone and smiled at him.  “Bibi, let me have a photo!” called the man.  He rounded the corner and aimed his camera.  The lynx looked away from me, then jumped onto a log and began pacing again.  “No, bibi, no!” he said and he ran back to the other side to catch the second lynx.  That lynx ran from him and came to me as the other had.  This game went on for quite some time when the man finally laughed, gave up, and joined me inside the souvenir shop.  I bought some long-needed coffee from the single-serve machine.

The refuge was not at all like what I expected.  These animals aren’t supposed to be released.  However, when the snow falls too deeply, some get out, I was told.  No one bothers to find them.  How strange it was to see these animals penned when they looked perfectly set to run away.  I didn’t see any injuries, and most could have still been wild if they weren’t so used to people poking their faces through the fences.

It was time to leave.  I jumped back in with Heather and our completely-engaged-in-conversation mode started again.  This time, I quickly brought up Sarah Palin and how I was excited to be here, how I admire her.  Heather laughed at this.  I thought, Maybe people are sick of Sarah here?  Then, thinking harder about Heather’s age which I could deduce from the stories she told me, I realized she must be about Sarah’s age.  “Did you go to the same high school as Sarah?” I asked.  “Yes, well, not really.  We did go to college together, though,” she said.  I was trying to recall what college that was, then she answered.  “Back in Idaho.”  That’s right, Sarah’s family’s original from Idaho.  “Idaho?”  I was thinking, Why did you both go there?  Heather laughed, “Well, we were roommates!  With our other sister…”  “So you knew her-“ “She’s my sister!”  Then it hit me.  This was Sarah Palin’s sister Heather.  I couldn’t believe I didn’t see it before.  They look so alike, if you can forget the difference in hair color.  “Oh, I remember seeing your pictures in her book!” I said.  Heather rolled her eyes, “That book!  Oh, we were so angry about those pictures.  My father…” she went on to describe some very personal opinions about the book, her sister, and her family.  I felt somewhat honored to hear these stories and wondered if she would tell any ordinary person these stories.  When she was done, I said, “Well, I enjoyed them anyway!” and changed the topic, not wanting to make this all about her because of her sister.  Our conversation quickly returned to hockey, naturally.

When Heather went to drop me off, I was disappointed that I was going first.  I really wanted a picture of her, but I was afraid to ask, afraid to sneak one in, and afraid of drawing unnecessary attention to her – in case anyone else cared who she was.  I sadly got out and accepted I wouldn’t have a picture.  She announced to the bus to wish me good luck as I drove myself up north for the night and she said she feared for my safety, and have fun.  I thanked her – she was so sweet and I had so much fun already!  The bus pulled out and I got into my cold truck.  I had already transferred my bags from the lobby and was ready to go.  If only I had a CD… The radio sufficed for the time being.

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.

Touring the Matanuska-Sustina Glacier

Tags

AISES, Alaska, Anchorage, Case Western, Cleveland, glacier, hiking, ice worms, Matanuska-Sustina, Menominee, Native American, research, Salmon Berry Tours, solo travel, student, tour, White Spot

I woke up early, got showered and dressed, made myself coffee, then went downstairs to ask how to walk to the pharmacy.  I was told it was way too far to walk.  I decided that “way too far” was in city terms and not very far for me.  Nonetheless, I panicked and went outside to call my mom.  I thought she might be able to look it up on a computer and give me a second opinion.  As we discussed the accuracy of “way too far” to walk, I saw the words “Of” and “De”.  “Office Depot?  No way…”  I got closer.  “Off” and “Dep”, and now I was convinced.  I waited for five minutes for the store to officially open, then raced inside.  I picked out a fancy, very distinctly patterned thumb drive.  The cashier was super nice and pointed out that the other thumb drives were on sale.  I told her No thanks because I wanted one that looked different from the others.  Then she offered me stamps.  “Perfect!  I would have needed those soon,” I said.  “I thought you might!” she smiled.  I was already really liking Alaska.  I bought some Christmas stamps and my drive and headed out.

When I got back to the lobby, I found that the lobby had computers with USB ports on them.  I used these to transfer my presentation to my new thumb drive.  I double-checked for success.  I guess my series of unfortunate events actually worked out for the better.  Then I went upstairs to pack my bags, check out, and go to my hostel.  I tried the same door again and to no avail.  I called my mom.  Freaking out, I kept walking towards the hotel, wondering where I could stash my bags to make my tour in an hour.  On the way, I passed a building beside the Annex and realized it was the one I needed.  I had been trying the wrong door.  I checked in and the lady inside kept apologizing that someone had messed up the night before.  Although I went to the wrong door, they hadn’t taken the phone with them either.  She told me she would move me into a single instead of a 6-person bunk situation.  I said how I hated dropping $100 the night before when it was so cheap to stay at Alaska Backpacker’s Inn, so the lady then said it would be “free of charge”.  I’m pretty sure I got the next four nights in a single completely free.  Wow, that’s a gift.

I dropped my stuff off in my room which was on the first floor of the building I’d been trying to get into before.  There were all kinds of writing on the walls and drawings all the way down the hallways.  I opened my room and it was warm, although it had a slightly weird smell.  I had a cot with two pillows and sheets and two towels, a fold-up chair, a television on a stand, a window with a curtain, and even a small refrigerator!  There was no peephole on the door, however, and I had to remember to take my card every time I left to go out to the bathroom.  It was no Sheraton or Hilton and my grandmother certainly would not enjoy it, but, for me, it was perfect.  I felt like a real Alaskan backpacker!  The only other people there were unfortunately the winter residents rather than travelers, and they tended to be older, dirtier, and a little not-all-there, but I appreciated the warm company nonetheless.  We exchanged words only as I passed the coffeemaker on my way to the door.

I dropped off my stuff and headed straight towards the Hilton, where I was told to go for my Glacier Tour with Salmon Berry Tours.  On the way there, I realized how hungry I was and how we were meeting at 9:30am but were supposed to be gone until 5pm.  I decided to grab breakfast.  My hair was freezing, literally, in the cold air after my shower.  I found a place called the White Spot and went inside.  It was covered in NFL and MBL gear, particularly from Cleveland.  I asked the guy behind the 50s-style counter why there was so much Cleveland stuff (Browns and Indians) and he said he was from Cleveland.  What were the chances?  Two days in a row!  He moved to California for college, then moved to Alaska and never went back.  He hadn’t been to Cleveland in 30 years and asked how it was.  He even asked about the very street I live on, gently surprised that I was familiar with it.  Then he cooked me up some Alaskan classics, including reindeer sausage.  I’m a vegetarian… but I’m also one for the experience.  It was quite filling and I apologized for paying ahead of time, but told him I was in quite the rush.  He understood.

 

Rushing off to the hotel, I found I was the last one the tour guides were waiting for.  Sorry, Alaska has too many temptations!  I took one of the two empty seats in the back, amongst a group of men, women, and teenagers who all seemed to know each other.  I looked around and saw that we all had dark, straight hair.  I was one of the only ones with light eyes, that dreadful peculiarity that defines me as metis.  Soon we began moving and I rolled those eyes as we picked up the last woman at the hotel where I had just come from.  Well, the walk was nice, and it’s the reason I met that man, ate that food, and experience the White Spot.  I had no regrets.

As we pulled out to make our long journey into the Matanuska-Susitna Valley, I got to know the group of people around me.  It’s funny how introductions start at AISES events.  Questions usually include “What’s your name?  What’s your tribe?  Are you here with a group?  Where are you staying?”, and only later to we delve into the topics of school, work, and origin.  Everyone was friendly, smiling, and eager to be in Alaska and see the sights.

It was this bus ride where I made my first friend, Joshua Waupoose of the Menominee Nation.  He introduced me to his cousins, his teacher, and his friends.  I then learned from Josh that he was interested in computer science and that he was struggling to go back to school, but determined to go through with it.  We also spent nearly an hour talking about casinos and how they destroy reservations with greed and alcoholism.  Josh told me some personal stories of how his life has been negatively affected by these means of allocating reservation money, means which, he said, tear nations apart more than they assist them.  Alcohol dependency in his family struck a familiar chord with my own family problems.  It also resurfaced the stereotype of Indians being alcoholics, and the thought saddened me.

Our endless conversation was periodically interrupted by “ooo’s” and “aww’s” as we passed through icy plains, bounded by towering mountains.  The height and intensity of these mountains was nearly incomprehensible.  The age-old snow, imprisoned forever on the unscathed slopes, glowed a shade of rose as the sunrise poked through the peaks.  At the base, a mother moose and her two baby calves were grazing alongside the highway, somehow finding enough food on the frozen tundra to fuel their enormous, awkward bodies.  I quickly looked around the bus; the windows were fogged from our breath, yet everyone’s noses were pressed to the glass.  (Okay, everyone but Kaleb – he had fallen fast asleep.)  I had always wondered what kind of Indian would come to an event clear in Anchorage, but I got my answer: any kind.  We were all captivated by the mysterious wonders of our ancestors’ land.  I couldn’t help but smile, and feel strangely at home.

Everyone looking out at the views… and Kaleb sleeping.

As we approached the glacier, I learned that one of Josh’s friends, Doug Littlehat, is actually a Navajo member attending school at the Menominee college.  Doug joyfully told us the story of his grandfather who had found a big hat as a boy.  He wore the hat from childhood until the hat became too small for him, thus giving him the name Littlehat.  Doug left his reservation to get away and experience something new.  He’s an advocate of sustainability and a coffee aficionado.  I found his passions conflicting and laughed.  He asked why and so I got the privilege of sharing a new idea with him: the concept of Water Value.  For a man interested in sustainability, and especially for a man of the Navajo Nation where water has a high value, I thought he would be interested to learn about the new idea of tagging produce and goods with a price representing the units of water used to produce it.  I had just learned about this in my Environmental Geology class that semester and was eager to share.  I told him coffee was one of the most expensive products in terms of water value, rendering its sustainability as questionable.  Then I praised him on his support of fair trade coffee business.  Doug listened to what I had to say with keen interest.  He replied passionately with how he will investigate this new concept and figure out a new solution for a coffee shop project he was working on.

After a couple hours of windy roads and never-ending mountains, we reached Long Rifle Lodge.  There we had turkey sandwiches, soup, and lemonade.  I then remembered it was Halloween!  The stuffed animals all along the walls and rafters of the lodge were decorated in silly Halloween costumes.  We took pictures, exchanged names, and laughed.  The warm lunch wasn’t long enough and we soon found ourselves tripping over each other to get a view of the glacier from afar before departure.  Gripping the freezing railing of the lodge’s deck, I leaned around the pine trees to lay my eyes on a small, blue wall of ice, framed by the classic Alaskan mountains.  I could just imagine the wide river flowing from the north beneath the centuries of ice.  But it didn’t seem so big.

I was wrong.

We piled back into the bus and went down a side road, not far down the road from the lodge.  This valley quickly became flat.  It was littered with pines.  After speaking to some guards, the gate was lifted and we were off to meet our glacier walking guides!  We pulled up to a small hut with an electric heater and Port-a-Johns where two eager guides suited us up with crampons and ski poles.  Extra gloves and scarves were distributed.  I eagerly took more gloves as I realized the intensity of the below-zero wind.  I bundled up and put my camera around my neck.  I taped a couple of distributed hand warmers to the backs of my hands and checked my phone.  Wow, I still had service – way to go Verizon!  I sent a picture of the glacier to my mom, then took one with my real camera.  I frowned as I watched the battery power tick away from the cold in just minutes.  My phone, on the other hand, stayed warm in my pocket and refused to die.  It produced for me many beautiful panoramic shots of our hike through the valley.

Our group descended the side of the slope facing the icy expanse below.  In about fifteen minutes, we approached the first large upheaval of ice.  I took a picture of a hockey net and several people asked if I was Canadian, referring to my Canada hat.  I said no, but then I met my first Canadian Aboriginal.  The lady was one of the people in the Menominee group, but she was from a Quebec tribe.  We all exchanged cameras and took numerous shots together, alone, and of the breath-taking views.  The ice looked like snowy rocks at first, then we realized its magical azure hue.  Brandy, our tour guide, explained that the ice absorbs every color but blue, hence the unnatural tint being reflected back to our eyes.  Then we approached the enormous face of the glacier, carefully shuffling along sheets of ice and snow flakes.  It was like looking up at a building’s wall.  Suddenly, my mind was flooded with images of Wooly Mammoths and characters from Jean Auel’s Clan of the Cave Bear.

Josh and I trailed behind the others, engaged in conversation about nature and what we were seeing.  We tested the limits of our tour guide by following Doug up some slippery slopes, just to say we stood on a piece of the glacier.  We learned that the glacier was slowly receding and that, years from now, it would be all the way gone up north.  I climbed a pile of ice and peered miles upstream.  Was global warming really going to destroy my glacier?  I frowned, then looked down at an icicle.  I plucked it and held it up to the light.  It was clear with little air bubbles.  Doug found an enormous hole in the ice.  He poked his head through it from the backside and we laughed because it looked like he had fallen through.  Then he found a crevice.  I walked towards it and Brandy told me not to go any farther; I could fall 30 feet down.  30 feet??  Doug threw a small stone into the crevice.  We listened to the click-clacks as it bounced through the ice then silence.  One, two, three, four — SPLASH.  “Woah……….”  We all stared at each other in awe at the depth.  Snapping back to my senses, I quickly backed away from the edge.

Thinking about the depth to the river below, I began to look at my icicle in a different light.  “This has been frozen for thousands of years?” I asked.  Brandy nodded.  “So… I’d be the first person to eat this?” I pointed at the icicle.  She laughed and nodded again.  I ate the icicle.  Doug licked one that he found.  Then we learned about ice worms, little creatures that live in the ice.  “…Yum…?” Doug laughed, reevaluating the icicle.  Ice worms, Brandy explained, are so inefficient and not much use to predators due to their size and the energy it takes to hunt them that many wonder what purpose they serve.  I laughed a little at this, believing that there is no such thing as a “purpose”.  Life has no purpose, it’s just chance.  Once, by chance, there is life, that life merely has a “niche”.  Why do people always try to quantify life by purpose?  By value?  Why can’t there just be life?  I caught up with a group of people learning to scale a sheet of ice with a pickaxe.  We watched as the rising sun caused the tips of the glacier to drip slowly in the warm light.  I marveled at how the sun rises and falls in the same corner of the southern sky.  Doug was off jumping in snowdrifts in the distance.  Everywhere, people were captivated and loving every minute of their tour.

Josh by the glacier.

As I continued to observe Doug’s recklessness, I began to admire his obnoxious, outgoing personality which was coupled by an aggressive adamancy for sustainability and ‘doing the right thing’.  If I had never held deep conversation with him, I might have written him off as a hyperactive, meddlesome twenty-something.  He was always finding a way to get into trouble.  Scaling piles of ice, chipping at holes in the surface, climbing under tight ledges,… He could put a smile on your face, then a worrisome frown the next second as you watched him attempt something dangerous.  When the ice under our feet began to crack, we followed the fissure with our frantic eyes to its source and found a wide-eyed Doug with a “wasn’t me” look on his face.  Had we left him alone for an hour, he might have found a way to bring down the whole face of that glacier.  Yet, judge as I might have, I am glad I got to know the real, compassionate, make-a-difference Doug.  His passion is an inspiration in itself, crazy as he may be.

Several hours after hiking, we were sad to leave the glacier, but also happy to get warm again.  On the windy hike back, Josh pointed to the silt on the ground and told me people sell that stuff for facials.  “Yeah, they make ‘glacial facials’,” he joked, yet he was completely serious.  I laughed.  The things people do for money!

As we said goodbye to the glacier and boarded the bus, I began to realize how much respect I had garnered in just one day from the Alaskan natives.  “You know,” I told my friends on the bus, “they say our ancestors came to the Great Lakes after crossing through here thousands of years ago.  They also say our area used to be frozen like this as well.  Can you imagine having to pass through here without any amenities?  And the Alaskan natives chose to stay here!”  The others nodded in agreement.  We were all excited to learn about our Alaskan brothers and what drew them to leave Asia and settle down in such an unforgiving terrain.  Stopping at a Starbucks in Palmer for toasty coffee on the way back to Anchorage, these thoughts were resounded.

When we made it back to our hotels, Josh looked over at me eagerly.  “Want to come out with us tonight?” he asked.  “We were thinking of having a Menominee dinner, but since you’re alone you can join us if you’d like.  It’s Halloween.  Maybe we’ll dress up.”  I was so happy that I had already made friends in just the first day.  All my preconceived fears of this trip began to dissolve.  “I reserved a ticket for the Zoo Boo, but I’ll come after!  Just let me know.”  I told him.  He gave me his cousin’s number because he phone wasn’t working in Alaska.  We went our separate ways.