Davidson Woods

July 22, 2007 – Radium Hot Springs, British Columbia
Anne and Chuck submitted on January 14, 1970
Much farther south now, we are at last in the land of solidly paved roads and even a radio station now and then. South of our camp of last night the Cassiar Highway became newly paved – with Macadam. Oh joy! The Yellowhead Highway was not as new, but was also a real road. Its only problem was traffic. Lots of trucks in a hurry, many with double trailers. They pulled us out of the wilderness and along to the City of Prince George.
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BLOG TITLEBLOG CONTENTMuch farther south now, we are at last in the land of solidly paved roads and even a radio station now and then. South of our camp of last night the Cassiar Highway became newly paved – with Macadam. Oh joy! The Yellowhead Highway was not as new, but was also a real road. Its only problem was traffic. Lots of trucks in a hurry, many with double trailers. They pulled us out of the wilderness and along to the City of Prince George. There our progress stalled again for mail. It arrived two full weeks, to the day, from its priority mailing. The stall allowed us to clean up the rig a bit and bird some fine trails established around this center of forestry. Two life birds were added to the list, Cassin’s vireo and dusky flycatcher. The land there gives evidence of supporting humans. Besides forestry, some ranching and farming are in evidence, but towns are still far apart. The price of gasoline remains obscene. A pine beetle invasion has killed all of the region’s lodgepole pines. Groves of these trees appear purple in the distance. Closer inspection finds that the browned leaves reflect this tint. Sad. Residents blame the disaster on a local outbreak that was not controlled. Some blame a couple of mild winters. I suspect an alien beetle found its way in. The blight has spread east and into the Rockies. So, we enjoyed only one extra day in Prince George, and then drove east into Mt. Robson Provincial Park. Named for the highest mountain in the Canadian Rockies, and a very impressive one, it is green with spruce, fir, aspen, and pine. The campground is in a deep forest grove along the Frasier River. The river, as others in the region, was roaring from a heavy snowmelt. Rain during our stay added to the river’s strength. We stayed two nights and hiked to the edge of the Alpine. After our first long hike in months, we were sore. Planning to backpack in September, we had better keep walking through next month. Our next passage took us into Jasper National Park where we camped in the “Icefields” area. The campground sits on a terminal moraine along a mountain slope opposite the Athabasca Glacier, one of many spouting from the Columbia Icefield. The weather was unsettled during our stay and profoundly influenced by both the glacier and the ice field above it. During the night, with temperatures in the 40s (F) conditions settled, but during the day a strong cold wind raced down the glacier and chilled the valley below. Since the air being chilled was humid, a cloud often formed over the glacier and produced both showers and mist at times. The Canadians operate their parks somewhat differently than do the Americans. There is a blend of preservation and commercialism. Icefield tours are operated privately, but tickets are sold at the national park visitor center. The tour includes a bus ride to a high point adjacent to the glacier and then an “ice bus” ride down a ramp and onto the glacier itself. The bus stops in the middle of the glacier and tourists may walk about a bit. More adventurous folks may simply park below the glacier and walk up. Signs at the visitor center and at the glacier warn of its hazards. In contrast, the U.S. park service would be appalled at the bus rides and rope off the Alaskan glaciers adjacent to park roads so that falling or slippery ice won’t smash the tourists. Curiously, each country worries about different hazards and establishes separate rules to protect its people. Reflecting on this, most of our laws and regulations serve only to create a nuisance. Most people seek the adventures they want and usually keep their head about them. The self-destructive also proceed about their business. Everyone ignores the regulations. We chose to hike the ridge opposite the glacier and took in fine views of several glaciers and even glimpsed the icefield behind them. Sadly we did not find white-tailed ptarmigan, our target bird, but did score fine views of a pair of prairie falcons. We found one on the ground with a fresh killed ground squirrel. Involved with its meal, the raptor stayed and gave us close views before flying off to a cliff with its large meal. We also enjoyed great views of big horn sheep rams enjoying a summer holiday in their alpine pasture. Some of the rams engaged in the exercise of head butting to relieve their summer boredom. What a crack that makes.
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July 10, 2007 – Whitehorse, Yukon Territory
Anne and Chuck submitted on January 14, 1970
Our travel from Palmer to Chicken was straightforward. In one day we traveled farther than we had in three days since reaching Alaska. We made time because we were backtracking most of the way and the weather was less than stellar. We camped at a rest stop and took an evening walk in the woods. Otherwise we drove past stick forest trees, muskeg bogs, mountains, and lakes. We turned up the Taylor Highway and passed large burn areas. These were brilliant pink with fireweed.
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BLOG TITLEBLOG CONTENTOur travel from Palmer to Chicken was straightforward. In one day we traveled farther than we had in three days since reaching Alaska. We made time because we were backtracking most of the way and the weather was less than stellar. We camped at a rest stop and took an evening walk in the woods. Otherwise we drove past stick forest trees, muskeg bogs, mountains, and lakes. We turned up the Taylor Highway and passed large burn areas. These were brilliant pink with fireweed. The paved road ended a few miles before Chicken, but except for a few ugly frost heaves, the drive was easy. We dropped anchor there for three nights along with about a hundred other campers, most on their way into Alaska. On the Forth of July, the miners’ organization holds a picnic fundraiser. We bought steak dinners and a few cans of beer and joined the party. After dinner were held the gold panning contests. The children’s’ contest started the show. A young girl admirably stocked the color in her cheek. A boy found six flakes, but only five were seeded in each pan. Yes, there is color in the lode! The adults worked faster, but no more effectively. After the contest, Anne played at panning the waste and managed to find six flakes of her own. We paid a dollar at the shop for a vial to keep them in. The purchase took the profit out of her prospecting venture. After the panning was an egg-throwing contest. All but one yolk hit the dirt. Someone shot a shoe out of a pipe section. Other than that there were no fireworks. Not much point where it never gets dark! The party moved downtown as the evening progressed, but we went home. Rumor had it that the ladies would be asked to donate panties for firing from the cannon, and this made Anne nervous. The sun settled behind the clouds, but it never got dark as we slept the night away in Chicken. This is the time of light and life in Alaska. Most Alaskans enjoy the cold, but hate the dark. Many, who can, flee the January darkness and don’t return until April. May would be the state month of Alaska, if there was such a thing. It has lots of sun, but few mosquitoes. Some “Southeasterners” don’t seem to mind the rain and clouds in their part of the state, but others do. “Life is too short to never see the sun,” spoke one who no longer lives there. The drive to Dawson City over the “Top of the World Highway” was a motoring adventure. All of the route on the Alaska side and about half on the Canada side was unpaved. The port of entry is on a mountaintop. We parked there after clearing customs, and Anne snapped pictures and flirted with the border patrol agents on both sides. Then we continued along the ridge until the grand valley of the Yukon came within view. The descent took us to the river and the ferry landing. The fast flow of the river and the small size of the ferryboat made us nervous. The boat had just left, and we were first in line. The queue on the other side extended a quarter mile back. We were so glad we were heading south. The ferry returned. Two campers and four pickups got off. The ferryman loaded two cars and then waved us forward. We mounted the ramp cautiously and squeezed our rig aboard in the right lane. A pair of motorcycles parked next to us and SUV’s and pickups behind. The ferry moved across the fast and deep stream and landed. Again we swallowed hard and slowly pulled off of the boat and into the famous Yukon bonanza town of Dawson City. We drove slowly past the long line of campers waiting for the ferry and parked near the visitor center. After checking in there we walked about town enjoying a place that never outgrew or became tired of its 1900 look. It remains the town at the end of the gold trail. The National Park Service runs tours and preserves certain structures, but the rest of the town also maintains the gold rush look. A casino with chorus girl shows remains for modern gold seekers to visit. In the back of town sit rustic cabins once occupied by Robert Service and Jack London. Much finer modern retreat houses sit around and between them. Commissioned to obtain a gold nugget we sought out the 40 Mile Gold Workshop. A miner in Chicken had suggested that this would be the proper place to find a Yukon nugget. It certainly was. The shop had finished jewelry and artwork, but also a glass-covered counter adorned with some dozen pans loaded with the reason people had built this town. Each pan bore a label showing the origin of the various treasures. The stones in each pan did have their own separate characters, but all had the proper glitter and color of the prize. In the middle of the counter was one huge, perhaps 4” wide, nugget. We cannot imagine its value. Nuggets are valued in part by the amount of gold, but also by their size. Large nuggets are rare and are priced accordingly. As we admired the fine stones and made our selection, other tourists came into the shop and watched us. The shop owner prepared the certification and packaged our prize. Anne snapped a picture of the shop and we went off pleased with the success of our mission. Leaving town we passed a finally restored, but beached, old steamboat. An even larger one is on display and open for tours here in Whitehorse. It is hard to imagine a time when these grand craft plied the Yukon. They appear elegant but too fragile to ship the waters of this mighty river. The gold seekers of 1897 were ambitious dreamers and fools seeking a fortune based on rumor and promotion. They gave life to the Yukon and Alaska and are praised and worshiped for that, but few made their fortune. Perhaps 4,000 miners became rich, and most of these were here before the gold rush. The men who raced up the Chilkoot and other Klondike trails arrived to find claims staked and only barren ground remaining. Their investment built the towns of Skagway, Whitehorse, and Dawson City and the transportation routes that still provide service, but they sold their goods for the fare home with nothing but memories of an expedition that had the character of military invasion. Some did not return. Several dozen casualties of an avalanche remain in the Slide Cemetery of Dyea (dy-ee). This town, once the largest in Alaska, is now a ghost. The railroad was built out of Skagway, a town that did not exist before the gold rush, and after the rush it remained while Dyea was abandoned. But the railroad was not all that condemned this one time Native American village. It was at the end of navigable water. Since 1900 it has risen six feet and the bay has fallen away from it. Such is Alaska. Even the land is not constant here. A day’s more drive took us south to here at Whitehorse, the capital and hub of the Yukon Territory. It appears to be prospering, but as with the rest of the Yukon, the tourist trade seems to be the main source of revenue. Everything is expensive, and stores have limited selections. The Canada Super Store was sold out of dental floss. Surely there will be more in a week or two, but not this week. The government employs many youth to operate information kiosks, and lead walking tours. Wonderful signs describe various points of interest in and around town. We walked along the Yukon upstream of the city and crossed a fine pedestrian suspension bridge to visit the site of the “Canyon City” tent city of the gold rush. There the Klondikers landed to unload their gear. Horses drew wagons along a log-rail track to below the Whitehorse rapids. Local pilots steered the empty raft boats through the rapids. The boats were then reloaded to continue their journey to Dawson City. The aspiring miners of 1897 and 1898 had first to pack a required ton (one year’s supply) of goods and haul them some 33 miles over a three thousand foot high pass between Skagway or Dyea and Bennett Lake. This could take a number of trips even if packers, sleds, and livestock were used. They then would have to build or buy a boat to float in summer the lakes and the streams that connected them. Eventually the lakes ended and the stream, now known as the Yukon River would connect directly to Dawson City. The rapids at Whitehorse were the worst, but there are others. Many supplies and some lives were lost to the icy river. Today the Whitehorse rapids are gone. They were sacrificed to build a dam. The Yukon now provides light to Whitehorse. We are staying here until tomorrow. We had planned to leave yesterday, but our mail has not arrived. It was mailed two weeks ago. If it is not in this afternoon we will have it returned. Why, you might ask should it take so long. No good reason perhaps, but remember, the Yukon is north of British Columbia. We remain very far away from anywhere. The fine airport should still provide a good connection, but clearly it has not. In any case, Whitehorse is not a bad town to be stuck in.
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July 1, 2007 – Palmer, AK
Anne and Chuck submitted on January 14, 1970
We prepare for our “Long Trip” from Anchorage to Montpelier, Montana. I checked the tires, the spares, and the changing equipment. I hope there are no flats or other automotive failures. I expect there to be bumpy roads, but hope that slow and careful driving will allow us to avoid problems. Others have given rave reviews of Chicken, Eagle, and Dawson City. We are up for the adventure of visiting them.
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BLOG TITLEBLOG CONTENTWe prepare for our “Long Trip” from Anchorage to Montpelier, Montana. I checked the tires, the spares, and the changing equipment. I hope there are no flats or other automotive failures. I expect there to be bumpy roads, but hope that slow and careful driving will allow us to avoid problems. Others have given rave reviews of Chicken, Eagle, and Dawson City. We are up for the adventure of visiting them. Clouds yesterday and rain today have dimmed our time here, but overall we have had great weather in Alaska. St. Paul was cold and damp, but that is St. Paul. The air and sea was calm in Nome, and the clearing skies gave us two days of viewing Mt. McKinley. So, we can forgive a bit of rain. Tomorrow we drive the Glen Highway to Glennallen and then the Richardson Highway and Tok Cutoff to Tok. This passage will take us through a rugged road-widening project, past the Matanuska Glacier, and through the pass near Sheep Mountain. We have come most of this way twice already, both times in the other direction. There is a fierce climb, but the roads should be good overall. After the departure of our “birding buddies” Ed and Nance, we are on our own again. This is sobering if view of the distance we have to go. After reaching “the States,” we still have to reach Vermont for a Labor Day rendezvous with our “hiking buddies.” There are a lot of miles to go. Our loop through Denali, Fairbanks, Delta Junction, and Glennallen went grandly. After the marvelous scenery and wildlife of Denali Park, we enjoyed stopping at the small and modern city of Fairbanks. We saw lots of short-eared owls and northern hawk owls there, but also realized that we had seen most of the birds we would find in Alaska. The great gray owl, white-winged crossbills, and black-backed woodpeckes continued to elude us, but not much else was even possible. We enjoyed the company of two fine young birders, one a high school student from Fairbanks and the other a college student from California who guided us to our convention of owls north of Fairbanks. A professional guide snubbed our request for local information stating essentially that he was paid to guide and was not going to give away bird intelligence. Instead of a positive, “ I can show you that bird, hire me for a day,” he asserted that the birds were hard to find. We might have hired him and considered it, but then the next day accidentally encountered him with a small group of tourists in the field. There he would not even look at us. So, we politely ignored him, but did notice where he led his group. Later we visited the same spot to find our target bird, Smith’s longspur, in fine plumage. We decided we would neither hire him nor recommend him. Too bad. Our tour of the Denali Highway was brief but fine. It has scenery as spectacular as that in the National Park, but here we could take our own car and stop as we wished to explore the land. Lapland longspurs flew up from the grass, spread their wings, and floated downward singing their cackling song. The air was cool and the lighting fluorescent. The peaks and glaciers of the Alaska Range towered over the green tundra fields and blue lakes. Although mosquitoes became a nuisance in the campground and in the field, the touring continued to provide wonderful scenery mixed with pleasant human encounters. A fisherman gave us his second lake trout and we celebrated our good fortune. A campground host was miffed with us because we washed the car a bit. He thought we were making the site muddy. In fact we only cleared the windshield so our eyes could see. We promised not to do it again. Our final visit to Anchorage was to leave Ed and Nancy at the airport. Before going to the terminal we stopped at the “cell phone parking lot” adjacent to the seaplane runway, That is a lake. Grebes, ducks, and sandpipers dabbled there and put on a good show, but this was interrupted repeatedly by the taking off and landing of seaplanes. In Alaska air travel is the way of life, and Anchorage is the center of of it all. As we watched the small crafts float into the sky on their way to the wilds, giant B-747 freighters roared behind us on their way to Asia cities, one every three minutes. Driving back to Palmer we found ourselves once again somewhat removed from the busy modern bustle.
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Photos from the Kenai Peninsula, Denali National Park, and Fairbanks
Anne and Chuck submitted on January 14, 1970
Just to prove that we are young at heart, we made stop at North Pole, Alaska. Located just outside Fairbanks, it provided a fun stop on June 25, exactly 6 months before Christmas. It was Santa's day off, but he waved as he went through the shop.
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BLOG TITLEBLOG CONTENTJust to prove that we are young at heart, we made stop at North Pole, Alaska. Located just outside Fairbanks, it provided a fun stop on June 25, exactly 6 months before Christmas. It was Santa's day off, but he waved as he went through the shop. Fantastic sighting of this grizzly sow and her cubs who are probably 4 months old. The cubs were playful and bouncing around all the while keeping a view on where mom was. Denali, otherwise known as Mount McKinley, the highest peak in North America, floating in the clouds. An unscientific explanation of a bore tide is when the receding low tide bumps into the incoming high tide. This oncoming wave can vary from 1 to 6 feet in height. The more significant ones happen 1-2 times a month. We were fortunate to be present for the coho (red) salmon run in the Russian River near the town of Cooper Landing and took a small ferry across the wide and active river with all the fishermen. We went to watch the fishermen, but mostly to see the bears. Moose are all over the place in Alaska, this one was at the edge of the road near the town of Kenai on the Kenai Penninsula. They can be unpredictable.
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June 29 Palmer & June 22 Denali National Park, AK
Anne and Chuck submitted on January 14, 1970
June 29, 2007 – Mountain View RV Park, Palmer, AK Our Alaska adventure is coming to a close, or at least we are planning our retreat to the south. Tomorrow our friends Ed and Nancy fly home to Staunton Virginia after sharing six weeks of our journey across Alaska. We will replenish supplies and relax here on Sunday and then hit the road on Monday. We will be retracing our path to Tok in northeast Alaska on that day. From there we plan to continue northeast to the tiny town of Chicken near the Canadian border. We will stay there at least two nights and probably visit the even more remote community of Eagle on the Yukon River. Then we will cross into the Yukon Territory of Canada. There the town of Dawson City has been very popular with travelers. From there we will turn south to Whitehorse and then follow the Cassiar Highway to Prince George and then east to Jasper in British Columbia.
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BLOG TITLEBLOG CONTENTJune 29, 2007 – Mountain View RV Park, Palmer, AK Our Alaska adventure is coming to a close, or at least we are planning our retreat to the south. Tomorrow our friends Ed and Nancy fly home to Staunton Virginia after sharing six weeks of our journey across Alaska. We will replenish supplies and relax here on Sunday and then hit the road on Monday. We will be retracing our path to Tok in northeast Alaska on that day. From there we plan to continue northeast to the tiny town of Chicken near the Canadian border. We will stay there at least two nights and probably visit the even more remote community of Eagle on the Yukon River. Then we will cross into the Yukon Territory of Canada. There the town of Dawson City has been very popular with travelers. From there we will turn south to Whitehorse and then follow the Cassiar Highway to Prince George and then east to Jasper in British Columbia. We are looking forward to moving from Alaska to the Canadian Rockies. The end of June has brought too many tourists and too many mosquitoes to the 50th State. We have enjoyed its spectacular scenery and wildlife for some two full months. It is time to move on! Our departure from Denali National Park was capped by a sighting of a pair of wolves on the tundra. We watched them for some time before heading on toward the City of Fairbanks. We found this a modern town in a region of extreme climate. We contracted with a high school student as a guide and he found us a fine collection of short-tailed owls and northern hawk owls. We were, however, unable to find a great gray owl. This is a frustratingly difficult bird to find anywhere at any time. The best time and place is mid-winter in northern Minnesota. Perhaps, some day. . . From Fairbanks we drove southeast to the community of Paxson and explored the Denali Highway, a fabulously scenic road the traverses tundra lands south of the Alaska range. We sought a handsome songbird called Smith’s longspur. It is an uncommon finch whose range extends across relatively inaccessible territory in central and northern Alaska and northwestern Canada. We had seen this bird once, in Churchill, Manitoba. Our friends had never seen it. We were told to contact a local innkeeper and guide regarding bird activity in the Paxson area. He was not, however, helpful, explaining that as a paid guide he did not wish to share local information on sightings. So, we used the Alaska bird-finding guidebook to locate a local colony of longspurs. As it turned out, our reluctant friend had authored the section on the Denali Highway. The book was, however, some eight years old, and we could not find the bird. We did encounter the guide with a group along the way. He clearly did not want to share his recent findings. We accepted this, but we did notice to what section of tundra he led his group. After his departure and our lunch, we explored that area and, Walla, there it was. The guide will likely never get our business, nor will we recommend him. Courtesy is an element of good birding. Another two days of light travel and touring brought us back here to Palmer, now much leafier than upon our first arrival more than a month ago. This time we are camped at the appropriately named Mountain View Campground. Yesterday we drove up to Hatcher Pass to share the Alaskan alpine one last time with our friends. There a juvenile American dipper begged to its mother for food along a boulder strewn stream. Then we went into Anchorage and walked in the downtown area and visited the Federal Lands Visitor Center. Finally we parked at the side of the airport to watch red-necked grebes and seaplanes taking off and landing. Farther away the huge B-747 freighters were rising every few minutes on their way to Asia. Finally we left our friends at the terminal and returned alone to our little home. We have named our Winnebago Minnie “Harley,” by the way, after the fabulous harlequin ducks that are so regular here. June 22, 2007 – Teklanika Campground, Denali N.P., AK We are completing our fourth day in the park. It has been a whirlwind tour with little pause for reflection, but very rewarding. While we are not excited by the operation of the park, we have been awed by its grand landscapes and conspicuous large wildlife. Beyond the first 15 miles of the 89-mile park road, one must take a bus, except that campers at Teklanika campground at mile 29 may drive only to their campsite on the day of arrival and back on the day of their departure. Our camping here gives us an advantage in touring the park. Whereas many visitors spend one harrowing day on a bus, we used the buses as taxis taking us from place to place along the road during these past three days. Clear weather the first day and on the morning of the second gave us spectacular views of snowy Mt. McKinley, the braided branches of the Toklot River, the multicolored Polychrome and Cathedral Mountains, and high and broad reaches of alpine tundra, scrublands, and valley spruce forests. Today smoke from forest fires to the south clouded our views of the landscape, and we searched for and collected our first views of arctic warblers. The warbler searching was confused by several factors. The warblers reside in the Igloo River canyon through which the road passes. We asked to be dropped off at the Igloo River campground. That was done, but we were reminded that off-road travel is prohibited there because of the problem wolf activity of a few years ago. The campground was closed, but we could walk there. We did walk through and found only a long-distance cyclist sleeping bundled up on a picnic table. Our passing woke him and we said good morning but did not mention the wolf issue or that his activity was illegal. He looked cold and mosquito pestered. Leaving the campground we followed the road through willow thickets that looked like good habitat for our bird. Buses, all outbound in the early morning, passed and dusted us. The road is gravel, but should be paved or oiled. The traffic creates a cloud and pollutes the tundra and walkers near the roadway. A bus stopped about a hundred yards ahead of us and put on flashers. We noticed but could not see the reason. Then a second bus passed and also stopped. Now we were about fifty yards behind. We looked into the bus through binoculars and noticed that everyone was looking to the left. Then the second bus backed up to us and the driver explained that there was a sow and cub immediately alongside the road. We reversed course and retreated about a hundred yards, decided upon a strategy, and flagged the next bus to reach us. This bus too stopped shortly and we observed the pale brown monster lying in the willows about thirty feet off the road on the far bank of a small tundra pool. The cub played nearby. When everyone had a view the driver continued and we asked her to stop in about a thousand feet. She explained that she had to take us a half-mile after an animal sighting. So we resumed our birding a few minutes later and shortly heard the melodious warble of our quarry. Anne heard and found the tiny green-backed and olive-breasted bird with a classy eye stripe near the top of a willow. It took a few minutes for all members of our party to locate this bird that looked like a willow leaf among the willow leaves, but the bird was very cooperative and continued singing from its perch the whole time. Continuing our walk we heard and saw several more birds before again flagging a bus and continuing on to the high alpine at Polychrome Mountain to look for gyrfalcon. There we had found our first “gyr” the day before yesterday wonderfully perched on a razorback ridge. It was not there today, but a pair of golden eagles soared through the smoke above the mountain. We have seen moose, caribou, and grizzly/brown bears from the bus. Yesterday a sow and two new cubs crossed the road directly in front of the bus and then stayed in the tundra several yards below. The sow rooted while the cubs played, providing photo opportunities galore. We have, so far, missed seeing only wolf in the park. The sightings will remain in our memories forever.
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June 18, 2007 – Wasilla, AK
Anne and Chuck submitted on January 14, 1970
We have left the Kenai Peninsula and after a day’s stop here will continue north tomorrow to Denali National Park. On our last day on the Kenai we joined salmon fishermen on the Russian River ferry across the glacial milky Kenai River. Fishermen and women lined the south shore casting into the more transparent water from the Russian River tributary. Their objective was to draw the fly across the mouth of a sockeye salmon and hook it across the mouth. You see snagging is illegal and it is tough to get a sex starved fish to bite! Our objective was not to see the fishermen, but we did enjoy seeing the salmon coursing over the cobbles. Farther upstream at the mouth of the Russian River the water was clear and full of the large salmon. Fishing is prohibited upstream of the ferry cable. We had come to see the bears that were making the fishing a bit dicey. It did not take long to find a big one. The shaggy red brown bruin appeared at the shore of a wooded island. We watched from the top of the bluff as the beast waded out and then swam back to shore a few times. It wandered the length of the island and then crossed to another smaller one. Our friends got great photos as it grabbed what were probably fish scraps from the fishermen.
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BLOG TITLEBLOG CONTENTWe have left the Kenai Peninsula and after a day’s stop here will continue north tomorrow to Denali National Park. On our last day on the Kenai we joined salmon fishermen on the Russian River ferry across the glacial milky Kenai River. Fishermen and women lined the south shore casting into the more transparent water from the Russian River tributary. Their objective was to draw the fly across the mouth of a sockeye salmon and hook it across the mouth. You see snagging is illegal and it is tough to get a sex starved fish to bite! Our objective was not to see the fishermen, but we did enjoy seeing the salmon coursing over the cobbles. Farther upstream at the mouth of the Russian River the water was clear and full of the large salmon. Fishing is prohibited upstream of the ferry cable. We had come to see the bears that were making the fishing a bit dicey. It did not take long to find a big one. The shaggy red brown bruin appeared at the shore of a wooded island. We watched from the top of the bluff as the beast waded out and then swam back to shore a few times. It wandered the length of the island and then crossed to another smaller one. Our friends got great photos as it grabbed what were probably fish scraps from the fishermen. The river, the bank, and a snow fence at the top of the bluff seemed to provide a bit of a barrier between us and the beast, but this evaporated when the bear, about sixty yards upstream, swam across and bounded up the bank and across the fence. It shook itself as it crossed the path and entered a spruce grove. Several moments later it walked out, now only about forty yards away. Ed and Chuck found this exciting and looked back to see how Anne and Nancy were taking this turn of events. They found them another fifty yards back on the trail looking very concerned. Chuck spoke loudly suggesting that the bear change its tack. The bear did in fact turn back away from the trail for reasons known only to it. Later we spotted this same bear or another poking its head out among the hundred or so fishermen below the ferry crossing. There was considerable consternation but no other impact. The sow and cubs that were reported did not appear on this busy Saturday morning, but we were elated at our getting great views of an Alaska monster. The cost was eight bucks a person for the ferry ride. Compared to $500 to fly to Katmai, we had got our bear for peanuts. We were just happy it decided not to munch on us like peanuts! Saturday was to be our celebration day for Ed and Nancy’s birthdays. They are a day apart and occurred on Friday and Saturday. First was the bear. Then we birded. The final “b” was to be a bore tide on Turnagain Arm. One was scheduled for 4:30 in the afternoon. We scouted a lookout early in the afternoon and then drove up the Bear Creek Road into the alpine. Upon returning to our chosen point on the bay, we looked down some twenty feet onto acres of mud flats and deep streams still carrying water out to sea. One hundred meters out the bay water streamed toward the mouth of the bay. The wave arrived on schedule. Anne spotted it first through binoculars. First it seemed a white line and more like a band of snow than a wave. It crossed the mouth of the bay and swept down the channel. It reached the far shore first and we watched the wave reform and rush down the channel past us. Waves crawled over the flats turning the mud into a crawling black mush. A wave swept up a channel that turned toward the mouth of the bay as another wave overran the bar from the ocean side. The two waves collided to form large inky whirlpools that swirled for more than a minute. We departed when the waves stopped coming and left as the flats disappeared. We took a final look at the beach in the cove alongside the rocky point that we had used as a perch. The big show was over and we left for a fine dinner in a little restaurant in the gold rush town of Hope. After a lovely and quiet dinner we returned to our lookout to see how the bay looked then. We were shocked to find the bay up to where we had stood. The beach and cove had vanished. We drove back to the motor home at Cooper Landing. Ten thirty p.m. and the sun was shining. We inserted the foil between the windows and shades to create darkness and slept. Yesterday was a travel day, but one that took us past the Kachemak Mountains, glaciers, and also gave us final views of the dramatic Turnagain arm. We swept through Anchorage and started north into the “Interior.” Today we birded in the morning and shopped in preparation for our four days and nights within Denali Park. A rule for the Teklanika campground is that the camper may be driven to the campground but must then be parked until departure. Buses take you from place to place. Another rule for the “Tek” is that all campers must be hard sided. The wolves are tooclose. We anticipate a grand stay.
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Bar and Grill Singers
MarkD submitted on January 14, 1970
I just ran across this group and thought you would enjoy their song Bill Me Anytime . You will need the real player to hear the song.
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BLOG TITLEBLOG CONTENTI just ran across this <a href="http://www.singers.com/contemp/barandgrillsingers.html">group</a> and thought you would enjoy their song <a href=" http://206.180.232.42/clips/ram/BillMeAnytime.ram"> Bill Me Anytime </a>. You will need the real player to hear the song.
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June 7 and June 11 - Seward and Homer, AK
Anne and Chuck submitted on January 14, 1970
June 7, 2007 – Seward, AK Rain falls this afternoon. Our friend Ed and Chuck work on chores in the motor home. Nancy and Anne are visiting the Sea Life Center in town. The Bear Creek RV Park is a small one about five miles out of town in the small community of Bear Creek along a stream of that name. It is not fancy, but has the necessary utilities and wireless internet. Varied thrushes chime in the surrounding woods. That is good enough for us. We were happy to leave the Mid-town RV Park in downtown Anchorage. The location was great tactically and the price was good for a three week park during which time we flew to both St. Paul and Nome. The spaces however were too narrow and most of them were filled with folks who were barely making it in Alaska’s biggest City. We left our space much cleaner than when we found it. We could not do much to improve the rest rooms that could stand a good demolition and replacement.
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BLOG TITLEBLOG CONTENTJune 7, 2007 – Seward, AK Rain falls this afternoon. Our friend Ed and Chuck work on chores in the motor home. Nancy and Anne are visiting the Sea Life Center in town. The Bear Creek RV Park is a small one about five miles out of town in the small community of Bear Creek along a stream of that name. It is not fancy, but has the necessary utilities and wireless internet. Varied thrushes chime in the surrounding woods. That is good enough for us. We were happy to leave the Mid-town RV Park in downtown Anchorage. The location was great tactically and the price was good for a three week park during which time we flew to both St. Paul and Nome. The spaces however were too narrow and most of them were filled with folks who were barely making it in Alaska’s biggest City. We left our space much cleaner than when we found it. We could not do much to improve the rest rooms that could stand a good demolition and replacement. Time went by quickly with our two flights to far reaches of the state. St. Paul is a cold and misty place of grassy tundra and ponds, sea bird cliffs, and seal covered beaches. Considered uninhabitable by the Aleuts, the Russians forced settlement to harvest the otters and fur seals. The otters were wiped out and have yet to recolonize, though some have started to return to nearby St. George Island. The fur seal populations rebounded but are now in decline here for a reason not clearly known. Most likely it is the steep decline in their favorite food source, the result of commercial fishing. The Russians left when the United States purchased the territory but some of the Aleuts, many bearing Russian names, stayed. Today the island serves as a base for king crabbing and fishing. There is a fish factory and lots of stacks of crab pots. Some of the pots made appearances on a show called “The Most Dangerous Catch.” The island also is home for government weather, wildlife, and postal agents and various state agents. There is also a small medical center. TDX, a native corporation, operates the “tourist” business that brings in mostly birders to seek both northern alcids and off-course Asian migrants. The population is about 500 and falling. The airport and King Eider Hotel structure includes a hanger, an entrance hall, a buffet dining hall, and two wings of rooms. The rooms are small and simple with bunk beds, but comfortable enough, and the men’s and ladies’ bathrooms are at the end of each wing. Twin prop planes conveyed us across the Bering Sea. Upon our arrival the steps to the tarmac glowed under hazy sunshine. A stiff breeze reminded us to zip up our jackets. Gavin, the chief guide met us and escorted us into the hall where we received our room assignments and keys. He told us to meet back out in an hour to begin our tour. We were assigned to an eight-person group called the “indies” because we were not associated with one of the commercial birding tour groups. Three guides made three trips a day in two vans and a small bus to take us birders to various parts of the islands. These were the sea bird cliffs, rocky shores, stone beaches, interior tundra dune lands, stark snow covered hills, and the southwest and northeast points of the twenty some mile long island. Perhaps most important were the scattered ponds and fresh water marshes. We woke, ate, and slept in accordance with the clock, but the time there is highly unusual. The sun sets about three a.m. and rises about five a.m. The island time should be about three hours earlier than it is, but it must have been someone’s preference that St. Paul have the same time as Anchorage, and it operates on Alaska time even though it is some 800 miles further west. A blue sky greeted us on our first full day and no precipitation fell on that day. Every kind of precipitation fell on the next three days and the wind howled too. The temperature never reached 50. We dressed warmly and placed little chemical heaters under our toes. Our teams appeared to be army squads dressed in green and black rain suits with troopers carrying spotting scopes on tripods over their shoulders. We carefully cleaned and dried our binoculars to keep them operational in spite of rain and condensation. We spread out to flush snipes from marshes and songbirds from rocky meadows. Once a flushed bird flew to the edge of the sea and our fearless (or crazy) guide picked up a large piece of driftwood before walking to the edge of the sea to push the bird back up to where we could see it. His appearance caused much consternation among three beachmaster fur seals, which were setting up their territories there. Being early in the season, he thought they would retreat, and they did, but only after considering a charge. We more expected to see our guide come running back up over the edge than to see the bird, a brambling, again. But the bird flew up and we all got great views. The guide, no longer so fearless, may never again challenge beachmasters. The stick would have been a weak weapon against one of the five hundred pound bulls. At meals on St. Paul there was talk of birds. We chatted of birds on this island and other remote places, on mainland Alaska, and near the homes of our worldwide contingent of serious birders. Only serious birders come to St. Paul, but for the effort and cost they get the chance to see birds that seldom reach even the Alaska mainland and may never reach any of the lower forty eight states. Our group was rewarded with sightings of smew, great knot, and lesser sand plover as well as many more regular appearing Asian birds such as common pochard and black-headed gull. Anne and I each recorded about a dozen “life birds” there. The appearance of the great knot at eleven thirty p.m. prompted a general alarm; and most of us, already showered and in night clothes, changed again and rode to the salt lagoon to stand in the wind, the rain, and the thirty five degree temperature to make out field marks of a bird standing across the water a couple of hundred yards away in fading light. We returned to bed among the privileged few ever to have seen this bird in North America. Our midnight run seemed a bit silly the next morning when we found that the bird had stayed overnight and had come to our side of the bay where we could enjoy much better views in much less bitter weather. As indicated above, only serious birders go to St. Paul. Everyone dined in the cafeteria. We had packed our own breakfasts and lunches and bought only dinners. We were concerned how this would be received, but the Aleut woman who operated the register thought our approach was marvelous. She knew how expensive the tours were and supported our approach to reducing the cost of the trip. At $10 for breakfast and $12 for lunch, packing meals saved our group of four some $88 on each of our five days on the island. She insisted we dine in the cafeteria and when she found we had brought only powdered milk to use with our cereal she brought us a pitcher of milk each morning and told us that coffee too was for all guests at no charge. The dinners were more filling than elegant and homemade. The chef complained that supplies had been delayed and apologized that substitutions had to be made. We simply enjoyed the hot soup and dinners made available to us at this far outpost of civilization. There is little law on the island. It seems the police chief had ticketed the mayor for speeding and was fired. The state police visit if there are incidents, but we noticed that no one bothered to renew their auto registrations. It is doubtful that any of the “roads” on the island are actually legislative routes. Gasoline was cheap, possibly because it is only delivered once a year and so reflects last year’s price. It may also be cheap because no road tax is applied because there are no roads to drive on. We will always remember St. Paul for the puffins and murres on the sea cliffs and the tundra and marsh grasses shaking in the wet wind. We have already romanticized the dilapidated town with harbor and stacks of crab pots. These are places where we found extremely rare and handsome birds. We left St. Paul in good spirits and reorganized to go to Nome. The flight there was in a 737. Unfortunately clouds kept us from scanning much of the land below. We found Nome to be a small, busy, and very dusty frontier town. Here ATVs and “snow machines” are king of the road. The sea ice was leaving as we were arriving and the weather seemed warm after St. Paul. The Bearing Sea was calm during much of our stay and was clear. It seemed very inviting except for the patches of ice floating off the shore. We rented a Ford Explorer. We found that its windows didn’t work and managed after much discussion to switch it for one with functional windows. This, we were told, would have to be returned after three days, and they would then give us the one with windows that would not open. As it turned out, three days later they told us to keep the car we had. Yes! The bed and breakfast turned out to be great and was a true refuge for us in this land of the midnight sun. The days started out chilly but became almost balmy (60 degrees) by the end of the week. The mostly clear days were great except the sun dried out the town streets and back roads turning them into dust machines. The residents ignored this fact and raced about leaving great tails of dust behind them. Parked on a road and watching birds we would race to the upwind side of the road whenever a car or truck approached to avoid getting dusted. The town included more than enough down-on-their-luck native Americans and others who gathered at the small waterfront park downtown near the liquor and grocery stores. We can’t imagine what these people do or where they go in the winter. One old man asked Chuck to buy him some cigarettes. We declined and concluded that the shopkeeper would not allow him in the store. Tourists in Nome in June are mostly birders. Except for the Iditarod finish there is not much to look for around Nome other than birds and tundra. Spectacular mountain scenery is only thirty miles away, but one has to drive the awful gravel roads to see it. We enjoyed the drives immensely for the birds, the vegetation and flowers, and the caribou and musk ox. The ox is perhaps the most impressive of North America’s large mammals. They are cutie pie fussy giants that enjoy butting heads as they walk across the tundra or down the roads. We admired them greatly and let them remove themselves from the road before proceeding. We were not about to challenge their right of way. Our accommodations included a kitchen and we prepared all but one meal at home. We took a recommendation from a friend and former Nome resident and enjoyed a fine pizza in town on our last evening. We enjoyed one round of drinks looking over the ocean (from inside the restaurant). Our return flight took us above the Arctic Circle to Kotzebue and gave us fabulous views of a still frozen bay. Spring was just starting on June 3 in this part of the world. We took one day in Anchorage to recover and then drove here near Seward on the Kenai Peninsula famous for its mountain lined bays and tidewater glaciers. Based on the weather forecast, we scheduled our boat tour ride for yesterday. As it was the wind picked up in the afternoon and our Aleut skipper weaved through the waves to give us a somewhat comfortable ride home. Whereas we admired bull fur seals on St. Paul Island, here we were dazzled by harbor seals lounging on glacial ice and sea otters floating lazily in the frigid water. The weather in Seward was mostly drippy and clouds obsured views of the surrounding mountains. June 11, 2007 – Homer, AK After three days we drove west to Kenai and found sunshine and sandy woods on another corner of the Kenai Peninsula. A short-eared owl flew into view in bright sunshine at 10:30 p.m. This morning we turned south again and drove here to Homer at the southwest part of the Kenai. This town is famous for fishing and a sand spit that reaches five miles out into Kachemak Bay. Across the bay from horizon to horizon runs the Alaska Aleutian range of snow and glacier covered pointy mountains. Round volcanic peaks, some active, are scattered among the jagged tilt mountains. The line of snow capped mountains across the wide bay makes for a spectacular vista and Homer is a popular, if windy and chilly, place. The tourist season begins in mid-June and we are here just ahead of the crowds. We will stay four days and make one boat ride to gull island and other “hot spots” around the bay. A bright morning gave us wonderful views as we drove south along the coast. Then we entered a fog bank and drove for miles through a cloud before breaking clear just as we arrived at the lookout north of town. Then bright sunshine caused the mountains to glisten above the low clouds over the bay. We stayed for more than an hour watching mountains, eagles, and waves on the bay. One could not but be happy under such conditions. The day was beautiful for March and gave a hint of spring. The fact that it is mid June makes no difference.
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Tupper Lake Land Owners
MarkD submitted on January 14, 1970
I received a request for a new account from TLLOWEB. Turns out that they saw the post of the NYT article about the Adirondacks. Here was the response when I asked who they were: We just wanted to post information for you about the Tupper Lake Resort Project after seeing your listing of the NYTimes article. You can visit our website to learn more - www.tupperlakelandowners.com Please share with others interested in Tupper Lake.
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BLOG TITLEBLOG CONTENTI received a request for a new account from <a href="http://www.tupperlakelandowners.com"> TLLOWEB</a>. Turns out that they saw the post of the NYT article about the Adirondacks. Here was the response when I asked who they were: We just wanted to post information for you about the Tupper Lake Resort Project after seeing your listing of the NYTimes article. You can visit our website to learn more - www.tupperlakelandowners.com Please share with others interested in Tupper Lake. 
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June 4, 2007 - Anchorage
Anne and Chuck submitted on January 14, 1970
Another short update from the Anchorage public library. We returned yesterday from a week's stay in Nome. This "bush" town on the Bering Sea was rough and dusty but provided a pleasant base for birding the sub-Arctic tundra. We flew in by Alaska Air, stayed in the Extra-Dry Bed and Breakfast, and rented a Ford Explorer from Stampede Ventures. The flights were grand, but clouds on the way up hid most views after our crossing of the bay outside Anchorage. Our return flight had better weather and we stopped at Kotzebue above the Arctic Circle before heading south. Kotzebue Bay remained largely frozen. The patterns and colors of the composite ice surface were gorgeous. Patches of open water appeared as small blue lines and polygons across the frozen surface.
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BLOG TITLEBLOG CONTENTAnother short update from the Anchorage public library. We returned yesterday from a week's stay in Nome. This "bush" town on the Bering Sea was rough and dusty but provided a pleasant base for birding the sub-Arctic tundra. We flew in by Alaska Air, stayed in the Extra-Dry Bed and Breakfast, and rented a Ford Explorer from Stampede Ventures. The flights were grand, but clouds on the way up hid most views after our crossing of the bay outside Anchorage. Our return flight had better weather and we stopped at Kotzebue above the Arctic Circle before heading south. Kotzebue Bay remained largely frozen. The patterns and colors of the composite ice surface were gorgeous. Patches of open water appeared as small blue lines and polygons across the frozen surface. The B and B was wonderful. A family rents a suite above their garage. They provided a clean and comfortable living area and more than enough food for full breakfasts. We prepared them and most of our other meals except for a fine pizza at Milano's restaurant. The rental car was good too, except for all the lights on in the dashboard and the one rear window did not open. Nome is hard on cars. Most of the streets are unpaved and dust is everywhere except when it rains. Mud is everywhere too, wheather it is raining or not. Three roads lead out of town. Each runs about 70 miles. Each is rough gravel. Out of town traffic runs at 50 mph. Cars don't last long. Every home may not have a car or pickup, but all have an ATV and a snowmobile. These do much better in the Nome environment. We found the brisle-thighed curlew and the bluethroat outside of Nome and also heards of caribu and musk oxen. Just missed seeing a bear. Ursus horribilis has still missed crossing our path. We are not too unhappy about that. The sea ice was clearing upon our arrival. A local youth got in trouble when he hopped on a piece and it left shore. Good news was he had his cell phone in his pocket and called for help. A photo of the rescue made page one of the Nome Nugget. The lakes all had at least some open water and the loons moved inland from the sea during our stay. We had wonderful views of both Pacific and red-throated loons in full breeding plumage. The much rarer Arctic loon eluded us on this trip. The week in Nome went quickly. Our return to Anchorage was uneventful and we birded again today to find new spring arrivals, Swainson's thrush and western wood pewee. We also saw our first porcupine of the year. Tomorrow we head south down the Kenai peninsula to the town of Seward. There we will take a boat tour to a sea glacier to see it calve and to see the sea birds that feed at the edge of the ice. From there we will work our way around to Homer before heading back here and then north to Denali. Best wishes to all our kith and kin.
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