tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-76924503070300284272024-03-13T05:10:09.324-07:00barbaraqThis blog is currently about what I call my Blue Goose adventure - a year-long trip through every state (except Alaska and Hawaii) visiting National Wildlife Refuges. Not all are open to visitors, but my goal is to see at least one in every state. I am now halfway through the year and heading south. barbarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02350809231161780641noreply@blogger.comBlogger705125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7692450307030028427.post-61019298843357805682016-06-13T13:00:00.000-07:002016-06-14T10:22:32.941-07:00Destination Circle: Day 29June 11, 2016<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">along route 99 in British Columbia</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fraser River along route 97 in British Columbia</td></tr>
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It was time to look at the maps. I am headed to Oregon, which is southwest, and had only a couple of options. It was an easy choice as I am so averse to traffic. There was a large sign at the junction: "Route 99 or 97 to the Coast - Your Choice," and spent the next three hours going through the mountains on winding roads, gearing down constantly, going over occasional one-lane wooden bridges and stopping a few times to absorb the scenery which was difficult to do while driving without dropping off the mountain. It was grandiose, stunning, awesome.</div>
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I have been reading the book <u>Klondike</u>, and much of the route I've been following is one of the options the stampeders (those seeking gold) used and is part of the Gold Rush Trail. Incidentally, the book is fascinating, concentrating on the rush through Skagway to the Klondike River at Dawson City where it joins the Yukon, but the author also touches on the other routes, like this one through BC. There are towns on the main north-south highway (97) that today are named 100 Mile House or 70 Mile house or 150 Mile House, harkening back to the way stations along the gold trail. It was in one of these towns, I actually saw a RCMP driving a white SUV and totally fitted out with black, high-tech police gear, offensive and defensive. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">log jam on one of the rivers along route 99 in BC</td></tr>
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I have seen barely any obvious police presence on the roads which is remarkable. The speed limits are generally obeyed, and there are signs telling travelers to "Use Your Road Sense." </div>
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Of course, speed limits are metric, but one gets used to this quickly. I think the loonies and toonies ($1 and $2) coins) are so cool.</div>
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My destination was the Fairmount Chateau Whistler, the upscale ski resort north of Vancouver, again because of a Priceline deal. In retrospect, I would not choose this again. As I drove in, I immediately saw a sign indicating the parking options: $35 for self parking; $39 for valet service, and the restaurant / bar prices also reflected what the wealthy will pay. I much preferred the hotel where I stayed at Lake Louise, almost in the shadow of another Fairmount Chateau, but less pretentious. </div>
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The psychosocial dynamic in these places is interesting as the staff are ALL extremely pleasant, verging on obsequious, young with English, Asian, Germanic or Scandinavian accents; most girls are blond; the handsome, efficient valet staff looked like Prince Harry and his friends; the check-in staff a bit older and very deft at dealing with all who wander into this place...some with young kids and well-mannered dogs, different nationalities, many clientele obviously used to deferential treatment. But, there is a steeliness and the expectation that everyone behave and pay up and be grateful they are allowed to stay here...or something like that. I thought it a bit odd to see adult men wandering about in the plush white terrycloth robes from the rooms, on the way to spas or pools or who knows where. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-nAUad8S7umY/V18Lqbm9HGI/AAAAAAAADQQ/9nYaISuJpWYn3F8jMoZhUyN_IRkcyBRNACK4B/s1600/IMG_0615.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-nAUad8S7umY/V18Lqbm9HGI/AAAAAAAADQQ/9nYaISuJpWYn3F8jMoZhUyN_IRkcyBRNACK4B/s400/IMG_0615.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Royal Canadian Mounted Police vehicle</td></tr>
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Women with shopping bags, of course, as there were numerous opportunities for this activity. Even with all the money in the world, it seemed excessive to me. I'm sure it's the same scene at Aspen or Vail, Park City or Sun Valley, etc. </div>
barbarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02350809231161780641noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7692450307030028427.post-64302564313371094502016-06-13T11:58:00.004-07:002016-06-13T11:58:56.049-07:00Destination Circle: Day 28June 10, 2016<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-tGdbWN4uBgY/V17_EoH0oZI/AAAAAAAADPk/lKYlGnvTo80QuAoCNYJF3DLgC6vfmcQ1wCK4B/s1600/IMG_5900.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-tGdbWN4uBgY/V17_EoH0oZI/AAAAAAAADPk/lKYlGnvTo80QuAoCNYJF3DLgC6vfmcQ1wCK4B/s640/IMG_5900.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chetwynd, British Columbia - 3rd place in a previous year's competition</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chetwynd Chainsaw Competition</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">watching the artists...</td></tr>
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While not raining, it was still gloomy when I woke and wandered through the chainsaw competition. The 12 participants were under white tents, working carefully on huge blocks of wood, while helpers shoveled up the sawdust. Most contestants wore safety gear and ear plugs, but not all of them. It was quite a spectacle, especially after seeing the results from previous years all over town. An impassive First Nation gentleman sat on the bleachers watching while most people milled about.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-MV0lXk6q-CE/V17_VIgrt8I/AAAAAAAADP8/k7zPIxng7k8tf9BQnlczAJ0NiaEXnHMqgCK4B/s1600/IMG_0614.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-MV0lXk6q-CE/V17_VIgrt8I/AAAAAAAADP8/k7zPIxng7k8tf9BQnlczAJ0NiaEXnHMqgCK4B/s400/IMG_0614.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">typical rest stop scene - northern BC</td></tr>
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Leaving Chetwynd, I drove several hours under cloudy skies to Quesnel (Kwa'nel) as the highway became busier and busier. Shortly after arriving, the sun came out, and an hour later the rain started although the sun kept shining, making the raindrops and puddles silvery.<br />
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Best Western has a nice promotion going, so I stayed at one in a wonderful sunny room looking west, ate a pretty awful stir-fry in the hotel dining room and cursed the almost nonexistent Internet connection.<br />
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My northern idyll of few people and cars, of daily bear and moose sightings was ending. But there were still incredible, rugged, snow-covered mountains and wild, white-water glacial streams, the grand Canadian rivers, small glassy lakes, marshes and trees, trees, trees....barbarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02350809231161780641noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7692450307030028427.post-38869033008357064142016-06-12T09:45:00.003-07:002016-06-12T09:45:47.142-07:00Destination Circle: Day 27June 9, 2016<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Xv8ZNz6LaF4/V12OCrCdOVI/AAAAAAAADPA/siG_iAgYORkBPWOsdYWqV8y3XQVJxCw7ACK4B/s1600/IMG_5895.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Xv8ZNz6LaF4/V12OCrCdOVI/AAAAAAAADPA/siG_iAgYORkBPWOsdYWqV8y3XQVJxCw7ACK4B/s400/IMG_5895.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">dead spruce trees south of Fort Nelson, BC</td></tr>
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At Fort Nelson I turned south and slowly, throughout the day, re-entered civilization - telephone poles, traffic, commerce, all of which was depressing, especially as the skies were gloomy and it was raining. My plan was to go to Mile 0 of the Alaska Highway since I would then have driven the entire route. It begins at the eastern edge of British Columbia in Dawson Creek. I did stop once along the way at Sasquatch Crossing for a cup of coffee, a banana and two regular postcards, and the guy at the cash register said, "$15.25." I choked and he explained "postcards are $4 a piece" whereupon I put them back, and in this complicated math transaction, my total dropped to $4.88.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-1INQl4ZjPio/V12OAy-DOtI/AAAAAAAADO4/Gt_UBQVinv8PGX4rnQWU6SFMN-4Iuep9wCK4B/s1600/IMG_0611.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="250" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-1INQl4ZjPio/V12OAy-DOtI/AAAAAAAADO4/Gt_UBQVinv8PGX4rnQWU6SFMN-4Iuep9wCK4B/s400/IMG_0611.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Black Bear along Highway 97 south of Fort Nelson, BC</td></tr>
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The road south from Fort Nelson was still through wilderness for a couple of hours, but the Rockies were now out of sight to the west and the landscape began to change to more deciduous trees and open ranch- and farm land. I did see one large Black Bear munching at the edge of the spruce while still relatively far north, but that was the only "megafauna" of the day.<br />
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I walked into a Visitor Center 30 miles west of Dawson Creek where I was accosted by a middle-aged East Indian lady working there and trying her best to be the most helpful volunteer on the continent:<br />
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"OK, so you're traveling south to Dawson Creek, to get to Mile 0. I understand why you want to do that...OK, so that's not the most scenic route but I know you want Mile 0. Would you like some coffee? The restrooms are over there and here's the key. Where are you staying tonight? Well, when you get to Quesnel, you should stay at the Fraser Inn. I'm not supposed to tell anyone this, but I always stay at the Fraser Inn on the Fraser River. I'm really not supposed to tell you that. You can use hotwire.com. Here I'll write it down for you....(Me: Thanks, but I know about hotwire; you don't have to do that...) Do you want any coffee? I'll get a map and show you where it is. (Me: that's OK; I have a map). If you need to use the restroom before you go, the key is on the little hook over there. Here's the map and I'll show you the route. And here, I wrote down HOTWIRE.COM for you. So tonight, you will stay in Chetwynd? Good; you better make a reservation because the chainsaw carving competition is going on this weekend. You can use hotwire.com to do this. Here is some coffee if you want...."<br />
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As I moseyed about, checking out all the pamphlets and brochures, she began talking with a young Italian couple about the Dempster Highway so I perked up and then asked them if they were going to drive it. They said they only had a regular car and were going to see if they COULD, but otherwise they might fly there from Fairbanks or Dawson City. (The Dempster is the 450-mile unpaved highway north to Inuvik from Dawson City.<br />
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<b>dempsterhighway.com</b><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #1e1e1e; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">The Dempster Highway is a 740 KM (460 miles) hard packed, but well maintained, gravel road that winds its way through two mountain ranges, the Oglivie and the Richardson; crosses the continental divide three times, traverses the Arctic Circle and loosely follows the old dog team routes on its way to Inuvik and the Mackenzie Delta where access to the Arctic Ocean is available.</span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #1e1e1e;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I did make it to Dawson Creek and immediately, without stopping to take even one photo, I went. I hope there is more charm to this town than I saw in the gloom and rain. I expected a totally different venue and make in the sunlight and off the main highway, there is more than the dreary business section I saw. I was driving a wedge-shaped route here, coming into town from the northwest, arriving at the point of the wedge and then turning sharply to head southwest, kind of retracing my route for about 40 miles. But I could now legitimately wear a hat or T-shirt "I Survived the Alaska </span></span></span><span style="color: #1e1e1e; font-family: inherit;">Highway." </span><br />
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<span style="color: #1e1e1e;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I spent the night in Chetwynd, ate schnitzel at a newly opened restaurant owned by a Chinese couple, and spent 30 minutes trying to find a Priceline motel, going in circles following the directions of a harried Siri and finally asking someone. The motel was </span></span><span style="color: #1e1e1e; font-family: inherit;">spartan in a modern way, new, but not cosy. </span><br />
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<span style="color: #1e1e1e;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Everywhere in this small town </span></span><span style="color: #1e1e1e; font-family: inherit;">(which used to be known at Grande Prairie) </span><span style="color: #1e1e1e; font-family: inherit;">were chainsaw sculptures. This competition began in 2005. It vies with the Husky Cup in Germany for the world's best carving contest. This year there are 12 entrants. They are allowed 36 hours to carve and start with huge pieces of cedar, but of different shapes, and drawn by lottery. So the artists have to be prepared to adjust what they will carve according to the size and shape of the block of wood they get. </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chain saw carving in Chetwynd, BC</td></tr>
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<span style="color: #1e1e1e;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Their work is amazing. I have only ever seen the rough chainsaw carved bears, etc. These are nothing like those...</span></span>barbarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02350809231161780641noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7692450307030028427.post-70768436397165593402016-06-11T09:31:00.002-07:002016-06-11T09:31:29.052-07:00Destination Circle: Day 26June 8, 2016<br />
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I woke early, before 5 a.m. Of course the sun was up but I was in the shade from Germany next to me. It was 36 degrees, I was still warm in my sleeping bag. Before anything, I always get my phone and warm it up when the mornings are this cold, and then I walked to the bathroom...a welcome 70+ degree bathroom, painted bright blue, clean, with very loud 50s music: Elvis, Fats Domino, Nina Simone, B. B. King, Dinah Washington... Here in northern Yukon, 5:15 on a June morning, in a campground bathroom...a concert from my teenage years.<br />
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Mist was rising from the lake in bright sunlight; a man was walking two beautiful dogs; another guy in a short-sleeved shirt meandered about with a coffee cup in hand. I love the stillness and peace of this northern country.<br />
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By 5:45, I was at Tags, getting gas and waiting for the "restaurant" to open. A gentleman was working who may or may not have slept after the bars closed last night. He definitely had not had a life of ease, and when I asked if he was open, he gruffly said, "Can't hear ya.." But his demeanor slowly mellowed as I let him know his eggs and bacon were delicious and didn't try to engage in chit chat. Truck drivers who had slept in their rigs overnight wandered in.<br />
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There is a dessert bar called Nanaimo Bars - a "classic Canadian dessert" and which I used to make. (I think the recipe is in the Dutch cookbook.) The store had these for sale - a package of four - which I couldn't resist. Does anyone else remember them?<br />
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<b>en.wikipedia.org:</b><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #252525;">"It's a bar dessert which requires no </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Baking" style="background-image: none; color: #0b0080; text-decoration: none;" title="Baking">baking</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #252525;"> and is named after the west coast city of </span><a class="mw-redirect" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nanaimo,_British_Columbia" style="background-image: none; color: #0b0080; text-decoration: none;" title="Nanaimo, British Columbia">Nanaimo</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #252525;">, </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/British_Columbia" style="background-image: none; color: #0b0080; text-decoration: none;" title="British Columbia">British Columbia</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #252525;">. It consists of a </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wafer" style="background-image: none; color: #0b0080; text-decoration: none;" title="Wafer">wafer</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #252525;"> crumb-based layer topped by a layer of </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Custard" style="background-image: none; color: #0b0080; text-decoration: none;" title="Custard">custard</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #252525;"> flavoured butter </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Icing_(food)" style="background-image: none; color: #0b0080; text-decoration: none;" title="Icing (food)">icing</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #252525;"> which is covered with melted </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chocolate" style="background-image: none; color: #0b0080; text-decoration: none;" title="Chocolate">chocolate</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #252525;"> made from chocolate squares." </span></span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fox just east of Watson Lake, BC</td></tr>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #252525; font-family: inherit;">I left Watson Lake at 7 and the sun was high enough to not be bothersome. For the first hour, almost no one was on the road, except three foxes, one carrying something large and rounded in its mouth, but I couldn't get the right angle to see what it was. My imagination suggested a human skull which I am certain it wasn't, but it was a weird shape. Within the next few hours, I saw four bison, six black bears, one moose and eight sheep along the highway. And somewhere in this stretch, I passed a Golden Eagle standing on top of a dead moose, its posture suggesting pride of ownership. </span></span><br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tMwISmNMQ3k/V1wzWVGVegI/AAAAAAAADOE/U_ciY6QTuh4597fs7eRtqcHHE-EM3f9JACK4B/s1600/IMG_5830.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tMwISmNMQ3k/V1wzWVGVegI/AAAAAAAADOE/U_ciY6QTuh4597fs7eRtqcHHE-EM3f9JACK4B/s400/IMG_5830.jpg" width="357" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wood (or Mountain) Bison - northern British Columbia</td></tr>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #252525; font-family: inherit;">At the overlook near stunning Muncho Lake, I talked briefly with a guy who hauls between Edmonton and Whitehorse and who told me about the fish in these waters and how one of these trips he wants to "take the wife" along. </span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #252525; font-family: inherit;">Fish in the range of 40-pound trout... </span><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #252525; font-family: inherit;">I cannot imagine doing this route (945 miles) over and over, especially with a loaded 18-wheeler. He says he leaves "Saturday night about 6...I'm supposed to get into Whitehorse by Monday night, but I'm always there by noon....then I unload and take my time coming back empty." The highway is not always a piece of cake as it goes through the mountains, with many areas of loose gravel / construction, rough roads, narrow roads, winding roads. It's totally doable and r</span><span style="color: #252525;">elatively</span><span style="color: #252525; font-family: inherit;"> easy but I wouldn't want to have time constraints, especially once the temperature drops and the snow begins. </span></span><br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Qvvngr5e0EE/V1w14m3FEkI/AAAAAAAADOQ/tqgdNLF8Nlw_6uc1JCloTGX_3CFDRa_cACK4B/s1600/IMG_5876.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="275" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Qvvngr5e0EE/V1w14m3FEkI/AAAAAAAADOQ/tqgdNLF8Nlw_6uc1JCloTGX_3CFDRa_cACK4B/s400/IMG_5876.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Black Bears in northern BC</td></tr>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #252525;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #252525;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Non-paved but public roads: There is the all-season, 450-mile gravel Dempster Highway in Canada going north from Dawson City to Inuvik in the Northwest Territories or the Dalton Highway (adjacent to the oil pipeline and also 400+ miles) running north of </span></span></span><span style="color: #252525; font-family: inherit;">Fairbanks to Deadhorse and Prudhoe Bay... I would LOVE to travel these...</span><br />
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<span style="color: #252525; font-family: inherit;">I stopped mid afternoon in Fort Nelson and spent time in the Visitor Center, browsing but not buying, getting free information and chatting with a lady as we tried to identify a very common purple roadside flower I have been seeing for days.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-beq4WWXBVp4/V1w2LjjzzGI/AAAAAAAADOY/O0gj9hOGW2MqoDPtric1TYcPBZRCxfD4QCK4B/s1600/IMG_5856.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-beq4WWXBVp4/V1w2LjjzzGI/AAAAAAAADOY/O0gj9hOGW2MqoDPtric1TYcPBZRCxfD4QCK4B/s400/IMG_5856.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Stone sheep near Muncho Lake - northern BC</td></tr>
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<span style="color: #252525;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">A distressed gentleman and his wife from Michigan were venting about their device challenges and how they "haven't called home in days" as they couldn't connect, and how frustrating it has been trying to use a Discover credit card. I found this out also. The deal is that apparently Discover charges businesses too much AND doesn't "pay for 10 days" while with VISA "I get my money immediately." The VC folks nodded and told of a recent woman traveler who was "in tears" as she encountered these problems, adding also that they wouldn''t take her American money. So it goes...</span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #252525;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I stayed in motel with windows overlooking a small collection of trailers. Late afternoon, a little girl anther younger brother rode a kids' four-wheeler bike round and round the gravel lot for </span></span><span style="color: #252525;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">an hour. They so reminded me of Tesla and Joey (Ginny's kids). </span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #252525;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Fort Nelson I read somewhere is an "oil and gas town" and it did seem like a much smaller version of Williston, ND. I think most of the motel's clientele were gas field workers, although in the summer, tourists also contribute in a significant way to the area's economy.</span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #252525;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I also read that the town's current location is the fifth site due to "fire, floods and feuds." Every place has its history. </span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-yQ7_kVAOZ48/V1w2vOKghEI/AAAAAAAADOk/gC7YSDqAgaQ_5xRQi1t12tpYbsuBO0yDACK4B/s1600/IMG_5843.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="font-size: 13px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-yQ7_kVAOZ48/V1w2vOKghEI/AAAAAAAADOk/gC7YSDqAgaQ_5xRQi1t12tpYbsuBO0yDACK4B/s640/IMG_5843.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Muncho Lake - northern British Columbia</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #252525; font-size: 14px;"><br /></span></span>barbarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02350809231161780641noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7692450307030028427.post-70998065894357616662016-06-10T07:52:00.003-07:002016-06-11T07:26:51.239-07:00Destination Circle: Day 25June 7, 2016<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-urgEx7tFbRo/V1rOSL9MPhI/AAAAAAAADMw/P0l3ANqd4cwcXjPaGGX3f1UXxVqdePk8gCK4B/s1600/IMG_0574.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="327" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-urgEx7tFbRo/V1rOSL9MPhI/AAAAAAAADMw/P0l3ANqd4cwcXjPaGGX3f1UXxVqdePk8gCK4B/s400/IMG_0574.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Commercial tour bus on outskirts of Whitehorse on the Alaska Highway</td></tr>
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The morning was overcast so lingering over coffee was the plan. Whitehorse has two Starbucks. Quelle surprise! While I was reading and drinking coffee, a young girl with Down Syndrome started her shift. She put on the green apron and was walking around holding the ties when another employee, an Asian girl, came up to her and gently took the ties, turned her around and tied the apron. It was a sweet gesture.<br />
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I had oil on my mind. In Dawson City, when I asked for a recommendation on where to get this done, I was advised it might be best to "wait until Whitehorse if you can." So I presume people in these smaller towns in the north take care of car maintenance on their own because surely they don't drive several hundred miles for an oil change.<br />
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I first walked in the Auto Service area in Walmart. Two guys were working with their backs turned toward me but it was noisy and after waiting 60 seconds with no acknowledgement, I left and went to EnviroLube where I drove right in. The place was spotless, and while two guys and a girl attended to checking and changing and topping off fluids, a third guy spent the whole time trying to get the bugs off my windshield. For these services, they charged $172.00! I was shocked and berated myself for not asking up front what it would cost but also was relieved I didn't have any issues, as nearly every time I took the Subaru in for routine maintenance the past year, something was wrong: brakes, rotors, head gasket, catalytic converter, heater issues, malfunctioning door-open light, total loss of navigation system. It was like waiting in a doctor's office for dire news.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-hcCPOmnH8Lw/V1rO167C_rI/AAAAAAAADNY/nhbVibTlpUYhLRcwAJ1HVhC8-ekh39DOwCK4B/s1600/IMG_5785.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-hcCPOmnH8Lw/V1rO167C_rI/AAAAAAAADNY/nhbVibTlpUYhLRcwAJ1HVhC8-ekh39DOwCK4B/s320/IMG_5785.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Quaking Aspen leaves: healthy and leaf miner at work</td></tr>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cZJQo4IS02w/V1rOWbsKi0I/AAAAAAAADM4/M03ya4m5zXMFQhtDCd1_DdWs13oIUtTHgCK4B/s1600/IMG_5779.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cZJQo4IS02w/V1rOWbsKi0I/AAAAAAAADM4/M03ya4m5zXMFQhtDCd1_DdWs13oIUtTHgCK4B/s400/IMG_5779.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yukon Arts Centre - Whitehorse YT</td></tr>
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Boreal Chickadees have also been on my mind lately, so I researched eBird and went to the campus of the Yukon Arts Centre and walked around for an hour, peering into the conifers and listening for this northern chickadee with no success. It's not uncommon up here, but birds have nesting and parenting going on so aren't as active and vocal as other times of the year. While poking around, I crossed the TransCanada Trail, passed a young mom pushing a baby stroller with one hand and holding bear spray in the other, and admired the outdoor sculptures. The Centre is situated in a pretty spot on a hill overlooking the town.<br />
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Before I left Whitehorse, I also went to a museum on the eastern edge of town dedicated to Beringia:<br />
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<b>thecanadianencyclopedia.ca</b><br />
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<span style="font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit;">"</span><span style="color: #252525; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit;">Beringia is a landmass including portions of 3 modern nations (Canada, US and Russia) and extending from the Siberian Kolyma River and Kamchatka Peninsula, through Alaska and Yukon Territory, to the Mackenzie River in the Northwest Territories. Near the centre of the region is Bering Strait, for which it was named. Today, this strait links the Arctic and Pacific oceans, but in the past lowered sea levels, resulting in part from growth of continental glaciers, exposed portions of the continental shelves to form a broad land bridge between northeast Asia and northwest North America.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #252525; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">The importance of Beringia is twofold: it provided a pathway for intercontinental exchanges of plants and animals during glacial periods and for interoceanic exchanges during interglacials; it has been a centre of</span><span style="color: #252525; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"> </span><a href="http://www.thecanadianencyclopedia.ca/article/evolution/" style="-webkit-transition: color 0.25s linear; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: #ed1c24; font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration: none; transition: color 0.25s linear; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-line; word-wrap: break-word;">evolution</a><span style="color: #252525; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"> and has supported apparently unique plant and animal communities. The history of Beringia is important not only in the evolution of landscapes but also in that of plants and animals."</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-raEiSscdlis/V1rOnccDY3I/AAAAAAAADNA/vkrgDLLyoN8gZRqgMpQrJ3CQoq_Tag5wwCK4B/s1600/IMG_0577.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-raEiSscdlis/V1rOnccDY3I/AAAAAAAADNA/vkrgDLLyoN8gZRqgMpQrJ3CQoq_Tag5wwCK4B/s400/IMG_0577.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yukon Beringia Interpretative Centre - Whitehorse, YT </td></tr>
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<span style="color: #252525;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">All afternoon I drove east and the sun came out late in the day. Just west of Watson Lake, I drove five miles back into the equivalent of a state forest campground and went around one of the camping loops twice but didn't stay. It was dark and lonely with few other campers and minimal facilities. And too early to just go to sleep. So instead of paying $12, I paid $35 at a city campground in Watson Lake. "We don't allow tents," said the campground manager, a robust man with an Australian accent. "People leave food out and it attracts the animals....There's an electrical outlet if you want to charge your devices. You're near the bathrooms." He put me in a spot between an RV from Germany and a sedan pulling a small camper from Florida with a bumper sticker telling people that Trump will Make America Great Again. I didn't see or talk with either of my neighbors. The RV from Germany was spotless, their shades were drawn, and it appeared, from the decals on the side, that these travelers were going around the world. A lake across the road had a Nature Trail with signs and information about dragon- and damselflies for </span></span><span style="color: #252525; font-family: inherit;">which the area is known.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #252525;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I ate at Tags, a gas station / truck stop that also featured free condoms in the rest room. I had minestrone soup (so-so) and a good BLT wrap, freshly made. The dining area was the epitome of </span></span><span style="color: #252525;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">utilitarian, with no charm whatsoever...a painted concrete floor and fluorescent lights in a large space adjacent to an open kitchen. But it was clean. The attached well-stocked grocery store was impressive with all items perfectly arranged on shelves, a good selection of fresh fruits and vegetables and the expected miscellany of road travel, non-food items. One just never knows when expectations will be exceeded, and most of this trip mine have been. </span></span><br />
<span style="color: #252525;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #252525;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Like the Sign Post Forest across from Tags. Incredible! Currently, there are 77,000 signs from places all over the world. While it seems tacky, somehow it wasn't...</span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-zl1AvV72I88/V1rOuKIdoCI/AAAAAAAADNI/lbw8ibC5BuM381pgdG69MQDGRbddik3ogCK4B/s1600/IMG_5801.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-zl1AvV72I88/V1rOuKIdoCI/AAAAAAAADNI/lbw8ibC5BuM381pgdG69MQDGRbddik3ogCK4B/s400/IMG_5801.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sign Post Forest - Watson Lake, YT</td></tr>
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barbarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02350809231161780641noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7692450307030028427.post-39398990848690107462016-06-09T09:00:00.002-07:002016-06-10T07:56:58.662-07:00Destination Circle: Day 24June 6, 2016<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-kpiSz1JlYWE/V1mLZfvuaoI/AAAAAAAADME/2zZz-mVKgFY60NqMvJC2d9OodoOvWHBPwCK4B/s1600/IMG_0559.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-kpiSz1JlYWE/V1mLZfvuaoI/AAAAAAAADME/2zZz-mVKgFY60NqMvJC2d9OodoOvWHBPwCK4B/s400/IMG_0559.jpg" width="268" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dawson City (not where I stayed though)</td></tr>
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The breakfast at the B and B was upstairs in the family's living quarters and was cooked to order: pancakes, omelets, eggs, sausage, bacon, or muffins and cold cereal. At first I was the only person so was the object of attention of a precocious, cute 7-year-old who showed me her Pokemon cards and drawings and colored erasers. Her mother gently tried to tone this down and I wondered about their lives, with total strangers wandering in and out every morning all summer. The room was appealing to me: elevated so it overlooked the neighborhood, full of windows, a kitchen, a sitting area with comfortable chairs and couches, two blond wood dining tables, bookshelves....<br />
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Another couple came up the stairs. I thought they were Australian but they were, in fact, from Britain. However, in the course of the conversation (mostly between the man and me), I learned he had worked in New Zealand and also in the US for 11 years. What did he do there? and where in the States did he live? Well, in Nevada and then he moved north through Utah, Wyoming, Colorado, Montana as he sheared sheep for a living. Sheep-shearing...probably last on a list of possible professions if I'd had to guess. They now travel; his wife prefers "caravanning" in Europe as she has only been seeing "trees" in Canada. She did lighten up when they talked of a three-day visit to Las Vegas. They had no definite itinerary this trip except for having to be back in Calgary on a certain date to fly home. Gravel roads didn't bother him a whit, and they were going west on Top of the World, or visit gold mines in the area, or take a Yukon steamboat if at least 15 other passengers signed up. Loose travel plans. He did mention Watson Lake: "We were there; there's nothing there." But there WAS something there as I discovered.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-8YhVRdJE6Sc/V1mLyt5A2dI/AAAAAAAADMU/7cOO8xlN6oYNHiWawUMUb387GMy5CXHTACK4B/s1600/IMG_5733.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="271" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-8YhVRdJE6Sc/V1mLyt5A2dI/AAAAAAAADMU/7cOO8xlN6oYNHiWawUMUb387GMy5CXHTACK4B/s400/IMG_5733.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Part of Jack London's cabin, now in Dawson City, YT</td></tr>
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We talked politics a bit and he allowed how "we are all struggling" with the Trump phenomenon, meaning both parties in England. He said this carefully at first, not wanting to offend me. "Struggling" came out as "strooggling." As for Canada's leader, the owner admitted to "not liking him very much" and the Britain said he was just a "pretty boy, and he's been naughty lately hasn't he?" It is interesting to get the perspectives of foreigners, and humbling as they often are sketchy about all that we take for granted in the US. They just are not all that into us, certainly not like we are into ourselves.....I said the US acts like the British when they were an empire in that we think we are superior and know what is best for the rest of the world. Very simplistic, I know, but... And we Americans are definitely just not into the rest of the world.<br />
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It rained all day, off and on, but often the showers lasted 10 seconds. The first raindrops left tiny silver paw prints on my dry windshield. As I drove out of town, I was horrified at the mess after mining the creeks - huge piles of stones everywhere. Dawson City is protected from the Yukon by a small levee (dike) built after a flood in 1979, one of many throughout the years.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-y_s7qkolMf8/V1mLtvjarFI/AAAAAAAADMM/-Gg8-KK2pYgIFk59LQ1ziaF4gYCFBiAQwCK4B/s1600/IMG_5746.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-y_s7qkolMf8/V1mLtvjarFI/AAAAAAAADMM/-Gg8-KK2pYgIFk59LQ1ziaF4gYCFBiAQwCK4B/s400/IMG_5746.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">the sequelae of gold mining - just south of Dawson City, YT</td></tr>
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The Klondike Highway runs south to Whitehorse for over 300 miles, and I drove all day in the gloom and rain, seeing only an occasional vehicle, on a road that had no shoulder for much of the way. Like if one had a flat tire or other breakdown, I have no idea what they would do since getting off the road seemed impossible in many places as the surface dropped two to three feet at a sharp angle - a tip-over angle in my estimation. There were no radio stations available but I didn't mind the long day driving through spruce and aspens and poplar forests, over mountains and through muskeg, across rivers and creeks. The highway leaves the Yukon Valley for the first couple of hours and then meets up again. At a pull-off high above the river, I could see Five Finger Rapids. Each year there is a Yukon River Quest from Whitehorse to Dawson. Canoers and kayakers compete in a race that takes 50 to 60 hours and is 444 miles. This year will be the first time SUPer's are allowed - SUP meaning stand-uppers as in paddle-boarding. Are you kidding? Paddling standing up on this river for that long? But these people are tough.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ivkPxAItr8o/V1mLzdkc-QI/AAAAAAAADMc/Q2Mjrqq4mR4wpR2LdlmSc4N9Unb3YP8JACK4B/s1600/IMG_5756.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ivkPxAItr8o/V1mLzdkc-QI/AAAAAAAADMc/Q2Mjrqq4mR4wpR2LdlmSc4N9Unb3YP8JACK4B/s400/IMG_5756.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Five Finger Rapids on the Yukon halfway between Dawson City and Whitehorse</td></tr>
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The sun finally came out as I approached Whitehorse where I stayed for the night and where the north-south Klondike Highway intersects the east-west Alaska Highway, which is also known as the "Road of '42." It was built by the US in response to the threat from the Japanese in WWII, and to connect the "contiguous US through Canada."<br />
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<b>en.wikipedia.org:</b><br />
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">"When the United States approached Canada again in February 1936, the Canadian government refused to commit to spending money on a road connecting the United States. The Canadians also worried about the military implications, fearing that in a war between Japan and North America, the United States would use the road to prevent Canadian neutrality. During a June 1936 visit to Canada, President <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Franklin_D._Roosevelt" style="background-image: none; color: #0b0080; text-decoration: none;" title="Franklin D. Roosevelt">Franklin D. Roosevelt</a> told Prime Minister <a class="mw-redirect" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/W._L._M._King" style="background-image: none; color: #0b0080; text-decoration: none;" title="W. L. M. King">W. L. M. King</a> that a highway to Alaska through Canada could be important in quickly reinforcing the American territory during a foreign crisis. Roosevelt became the first American to publicly discuss the military benefits of a highway in an August speech in <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chautauqua,_New_York" style="background-image: none; color: #0b0080; text-decoration: none;" title="Chautauqua, New York">Chautauqua, New York</a>. He again mentioned the idea during King's visit to Washington in March 1937, suggesting that a $30 million highway would be helpful as part of a larger defense against Japan that included, the Americans hoped, a larger Canadian military presence on the Pacific coast. Roosevelt remained a supporter of the highway, telling <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cordell_Hull" style="background-image: none; color: #0b0080; text-decoration: none;" title="Cordell Hull">Cordell Hull</a> in August 1937 that he wanted a road built as soon as possible.<sup class="reference" id="cite_ref-perras1998_4-0" style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1; unicode-bidi: -webkit-isolate; white-space: nowrap;"><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Alaska_Highway#cite_note-perras1998-4" style="background-image: none; color: #0b0080; text-decoration: none;">[4]</a></sup></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><span style="color: #252525; font-size: 14px;">The</span><span style="color: #252525; font-size: 14px;"> </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Attack_on_Pearl_Harbor" style="background-image: none; color: #0b0080; font-size: 14px; text-decoration: none;" title="Attack on Pearl Harbor">attack on Pearl Harbor</a><span style="color: #252525; font-size: 14px;"> </span><span style="color: #252525; font-size: 14px;">and beginning of the</span><span style="color: #252525; font-size: 14px;"> </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pacific_War" style="background-image: none; color: #0b0080; font-size: 14px; text-decoration: none;" title="Pacific War">Pacific Theater</a><span style="color: #252525; font-size: 14px;"> </span><span style="color: #252525; font-size: 14px;">in</span><span style="color: #252525; font-size: 14px;"> </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/World_War_II" style="background-image: none; color: #0b0080; font-size: 14px; text-decoration: none;" title="World War II">World War II</a><span style="color: #252525; font-size: 14px;">, coupled with Japanese threats to the west coast of North America and the</span><span style="color: #252525; font-size: 14px;"> </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Aleutian_Islands" style="background-image: none; color: #0b0080; font-size: 14px; text-decoration: none;" title="Aleutian Islands">Aleutian Islands</a><span style="color: #252525;"><span style="font-size: 14px;">, changed the priorities for both nations. On February 6, 1942 the construction of the Alaska Highway was approved by the United States Army and the project received the authorization from the U.S. Congress and Roosevelt to proceed five days later. Canada agreed to allow construction as long as the United States bore the full cost, and that the road and other facilities in Canada be turned over to Canadian authority after the war ended."</span></span> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">It's the only road INTO Alaska other than the Top of the World Highway. Traveling in May is a good choice as traffic was much less and rates were generally more reasonable than later in the season. Most facilities were open, although many only re-open mid May. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Tomorrow, I WILL get the oil changed in my car....</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>barbarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02350809231161780641noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7692450307030028427.post-66685117135667935802016-06-08T19:42:00.002-07:002016-06-08T19:42:45.229-07:00Destination Circle: Day 23June 5, 2016<br />
<br />
A lovely sunny morning and not even chilly. I went back to Fast Eddy's for coffee but then settled in for breakfast to have an omelet with reindeer sausage. It was yummy. The hash browns that came with it would have served a family. It was busy and bustling this Sunday morning.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Post office in Chicken, Alaska</td></tr>
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And then on to Chicken, Alaska. First I drove east from Tok (pronounced Toke) on the Alaska (Alcan) Highway for a dozen miles and then north for 60 through rolling open land with lots of black spruce. The last dozen miles were gravelly. Chicken was supposed to be named Ptarmigan but there was disagreement amongst its founders on how to spell that, so Chicken it became. The post office is tiny and across the street from a log cabin in which a mandatory mining class was in progress. A gentleman told me that if miners didn't comply with the regulations of keeping up-to-date on mining issues and attend periodic day-long sessions, they would be penalized and have to take a two-week course.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XOTZum5bhwM/V1jR46ff44I/AAAAAAAADLg/SHkC4j6nQGUBEVBvP9gNq0EAgSDfGVC8wCK4B/s1600/IMG_0500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="260" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XOTZum5bhwM/V1jR46ff44I/AAAAAAAADLg/SHkC4j6nQGUBEVBvP9gNq0EAgSDfGVC8wCK4B/s400/IMG_0500.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">music fest stage in Chicken Alaska</td></tr>
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Chicken was settled by gold miners. There is still active mining, which, along with the interest and curiosity of tourists who have a sense of adventure and visit and spend money, is the <u>raison d'être</u> of Chicken today. A well-stocked general store offers tourists camping space, free firewood, hundreds of gift items, espresso, baked goods and food. It was easy to spend time moseying and browsing here. The chicken theme and chicken sculptures are everywhere in the village. If I were ever to return to Chicken, I would spend a night camping here as it was so pleasant, laid back, tucked in the hills. The whole area around the store had been freshly raked; there was a generous deck in the sunshine for hanging out, and the coffee was delicious. It was kind of funky, a lot like Homer. The chick running the place was "born and raised" in Chicken which is kind of difficult to imagine. There can't be too many people who can make that claim. She was attractive, efficient and helpful, answering all queries coming her way.<br />
<br />
A typical Alaskan tourist couple (white and middle-aged with a large RV and small dog) came in and the gentleman was harried. He had just driven the Top of the World highway FROM Dawson and asked, "How's the road from here to Tok? Jeez, we need to catch our breath....the road we were just on had no guard rails...it went straight down 1000 feet. Jeez...we may just stay here a few days. Does the road get better? We didn't know it was going to be so steep with drop-offs...."<br />
<br />
"Oh, yeah," said the lady at the counter, "that's the goat trail...." (whatever that meant). She assured the man and his wife that there wasn't much more gravel on the road down to Tok; he was definitely relieved, but still wanted to stay put for at least one night....maybe two. Whew.....<br />
<br />
Hmmm....this was the road I was about to take. Before I left, I told her about the road between Durango and Ouray in Colorado and how "scary" I found that. She apparently knew what I was talking about and said I wouldn't have any problem.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6MuK_QwxObU/V1jRcnNjqpI/AAAAAAAADK4/I294gQPX_yQipVcLk2FEdQuQ8xT6bdlYQCK4B/s1600/IMG_0513.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6MuK_QwxObU/V1jRcnNjqpI/AAAAAAAADK4/I294gQPX_yQipVcLk2FEdQuQ8xT6bdlYQCK4B/s400/IMG_0513.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Top of the World Highway - Chicken to Daswon</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-z3sD_Voawl0/V1jRmshvqmI/AAAAAAAADLA/ae9E-uezcPEsFRjYqI7jW1yfR9ql0i3kQCK4B/s1600/IMG_5709.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-z3sD_Voawl0/V1jRmshvqmI/AAAAAAAADLA/ae9E-uezcPEsFRjYqI7jW1yfR9ql0i3kQCK4B/s400/IMG_5709.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Maria's tower on Top of the World Highway</td></tr>
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Off I went for several hours, to Dawson, past a few mining operations which pretty much rape the stream beds, into the mountains with significant drop-offs but nothing I haven't seen before, through customs in a lonely wind-blown outpost apparently to the satisfaction of a handsome black-haired agent, and then drove a couple more hours on top of the world. It did seem like that; it was gorgeous. The Canadian side was packed gravel and dirt and actually quite easy to drive with incredible vistas in all directions. At one pullout, there was a little tower of flat stones that I silently dedicated to Maria. If the stones are placed to represent a human figure, they are an <u>inukshuk</u>, but I usually see just a little tower of 10 - 12 stones here and there along the highways in places where the rocks are flat enough to stack. Those really aren't <u>inuksuit</u> (plural of <u>inukshuk</u>) but I like them, and they always remind of her.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-UVc8seiBSDw/V1jRv7ZGL4I/AAAAAAAADLY/syzLJtJ5Ugw-7VAQ6ARdwbPjG2kmlGrJwCK4B/s1600/IMG_0537.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-UVc8seiBSDw/V1jRv7ZGL4I/AAAAAAAADLY/syzLJtJ5Ugw-7VAQ6ARdwbPjG2kmlGrJwCK4B/s400/IMG_0537.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">approaching the Yukon River from Top of the World</td></tr>
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Slowly the skies clouded to the point where, near Dawson, it began drizzling and then raining, making the road surface slippery. But by then I was waiting for the free ferry that runs 24 hours and transports vehicles and passengers back and forth across the Yukon from the road I just took (which ends at the river) to Dawson in Yukon Territory. The river was flowing to the Bering Sea, wide, fast and muddy, and it seemed tricky to maneuver the ferry but the captain did it perfectly. I think the capacity is about 8 - 10 cars, RVs or trucks and it takes 15 minutes. Finally....my destination river....<br />
<br />
Dawson I liked, after my initial wondering, "Now what?" It was gloomy, the town is small, the RV park dismal and the nearest town of any size (Whitehorse) six hours south down the Klondike Highway. So I googled and found a B and B, called and stayed there. It was wonderful, very modern, light, airy, good feng shui....the owner an attractive 30 something. I had chosen the "shared bathroom" option, but lucked out as I was in the annex and no one else came for the night. The town had just finished a Jack London three-day event and a greatgranddaughter had come to town. Part of his cabin is now in Dawson, next to a small museum. One of the events was the entire reading of <u>The Call of the Wild</u>.<br />
<br />
I walked around on the board sidewalks, across the unpaved streets, ate at Klondike Kate's, bought a book by Pierre Berton titled <u>Klondike</u> (which is a river running into the Yukon at Dawson City, and which was the site of a frantic gold rush in the late 1900s), and lingered in a shop with gold for sale, talking with the owner, a delightful and knowledgeable older German woman. I got a tutorial on present-day gold mining.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-GxenTmukbik/V1jRv3gbKcI/AAAAAAAADLU/Q0BGbNVIPQE8BahDtBM-5bDKZYQuRmw2QCK4B/s1600/IMG_0556.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="330" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-GxenTmukbik/V1jRv3gbKcI/AAAAAAAADLU/Q0BGbNVIPQE8BahDtBM-5bDKZYQuRmw2QCK4B/s400/IMG_0556.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dawson City<br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">
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My dinner at KK's was the best food so far on this trip: kale and wild mushroom wraps and a truly scrumptious dessert with ice cream, whipped cream, espresso, Grand Mariner and a chocolate stick.<br />
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Except I couldn't fall asleep after that, finally gave up and read some more. Even at 1 a.m. it was light outside. Weird....barbarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02350809231161780641noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7692450307030028427.post-36991026969911212872016-06-06T21:43:00.001-07:002016-06-08T17:40:30.446-07:00Destination Circle: Day 22June 4, 2016<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-MjucgqWzhyk/V1ZJj70uI3I/AAAAAAAADKE/Ww8CzIKYYrk-L4jsF0GaEe_nsk35VHY1QCK4B/s1600/IMG_5637.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="256" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-MjucgqWzhyk/V1ZJj70uI3I/AAAAAAAADKE/Ww8CzIKYYrk-L4jsF0GaEe_nsk35VHY1QCK4B/s320/IMG_5637.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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It was drizzling in the morning and I drove around this little town thinking there might be an oil change place but didn't find one and then went in search of a coffee shop and didn't find one of those either. I almost headed out of town, but decided to eat breakfast first at what appeared to be the only open restaurant. Even the harbor was quiet except for a few guys doing boat maintenance.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-X2_VRhnfFBw/V1ZJTcxMZ2I/AAAAAAAADJ8/0EIXBquqBv0ZH7F7TnzgUWRTi9w02t4WQCK4B/s1600/IMG_5588.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-X2_VRhnfFBw/V1ZJTcxMZ2I/AAAAAAAADJ8/0EIXBquqBv0ZH7F7TnzgUWRTi9w02t4WQCK4B/s400/IMG_5588.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Thompson Pass just north of Valdez (yesterday)</td></tr>
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If the weather had been cloudy yesterday, I would have completely missed the show as today I could see almost nothing except clouds and fog for a couple of hours. But I will never forget the absolutely incredible scenery of this route in the brilliant late afternoon sun.<br />
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I took a small detour through Copper Center, a historic gold-mining area, seeing many old log cabins, slowly slumping back to earth, tilted and askew, with windows and doors open to the critters. The few families scattered through this area live in haphazard dwellings, their yards filling up with old vehicles, wood piles, outbuildings, barrels, boxes, bicycles, trash heaps, discarded furniture, kids' toys, dogs....How do intact kids emerge from these situations?<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-vE1zKMbkUFo/V1ZJxRgdkLI/AAAAAAAADKQ/t0dfEOzPcPgyG07uLcp9v1f0jxNxGCzpgCK4B/s1600/IMG_0480.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-vE1zKMbkUFo/V1ZJxRgdkLI/AAAAAAAADKQ/t0dfEOzPcPgyG07uLcp9v1f0jxNxGCzpgCK4B/s400/IMG_0480.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Boreal Forest Trail - Wrangell-St. Elias NP</td></tr>
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Stopping back at the Wrangell-St. Elias VC, I got a cup of coffee offered free to travelers, bought more books, went to the parking lot, put a Skeeter Beater on my car window and worked on the computer an hour. I then walked a sweet little "Boreal Forest" trail before continuing north to Tok where I spent the night under spruce and aspen trees in a perfect campground, also run efficiently, with the rules explained up front (although the "No Washing Pets in the Showers" rule was conveyed by several bold signs in the bathrooms). A common history with people is that someone came to Alaska to work on the pipeline and then stayed, which was the case here with the owners of this campground. Slowly, over the years, commuting seasonally between Anchorage and Tok, they developed the property into a haven for campers, getting the highest marks by the accreditation people. Everyone retires early, although I guess this only SEEMS so as it doesn't get dark.<br />
<br />
Before settling in for the night, I went to a 7000 square foot, quite new, very nice, very spacious Visitor Center where a gentleman gave me information about going up to Chicken, Alaska, and then east over to Dawson City on the Top of the World Highway. Yes, it was a lot of gravel, and in the mountains, but "just stop when a big rig comes towards you and wait 'til it passes; don't move to the shoulders as they can be soft..." So that's my plan for tomorrow. Dawson City is on the Yukon River...in Yukon Territory in Canada. It's not Circle (farther downriver) but I won't have to retrace my driving, and the gravel portion is less (I am guessing about 75-80 miles. Each reference varies on this.)<br />
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The lady in the laundry room in Denali told me that the Tok VC is so impressive because it's the first one people driving to Alaska come upon.<br />
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Dinner was a BLT with avocado at Fast Eddy's, very busy and full of travelers. I got seated at a small table against a wall with a reading light. Nice, as I always read while eating.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">aspen leaf miner infestation</td></tr>
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Back at the campground in the tent area, my neighbors were a bicyclist in a tent to the right and a car camper guy to the left, with RVs across the road in front of me and woods behind. Everything about this place was meticulously cared for....like new wood shavings at all the tent sites, a nice gas grill for tent campers to use, clean, warm and well-lit bathrooms and showers, free WiFi (although limited to two hours with restrictions: "You can check your email and do your banking and surf the Internet...but not upload and download, watch movies, Skype...")<br />
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As I was driving around yesterday, I remembered a nonfiction book I had read several years ago titled <u>Pilgrim's Wilderness: A True Story of Faith and Madness on the Alaska Frontier</u> by Tom Kizzia. It takes place in what is now Wrangell-St. Elias and is a captivating story. Amazon says:<br />
<b style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"><i><br /></i></b>
<b style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"><i>Into the Wild</i> meets <i>Helter Skelter</i> in this riveting true story of a modern-day homesteading family in the deepest reaches of the Alaskan wilderness</b><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">—</span><b style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">and of the chilling secrets of its maniacal, spellbinding patriarch.</b><br />
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<br />barbarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02350809231161780641noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7692450307030028427.post-33773463481178710572016-06-05T23:10:00.001-07:002016-06-06T20:27:27.017-07:00Destination Circle: Day 21June 3, 2016<br />
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Sunshine!<br />
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I half-heartedly looked for an oil
change place in the morning but ended up at Kaladi Coffee instead and then parked
downtown and went to a federal building which houses the Alaska Center for Public Lands While I knew a lot of this state belongs
to you and me, in fact 85% of it does: Bureau of Land Management,
National Parks and Preserves, Fish and Wildlife Service (who administer the National Wildlife Refuges) and the Forest Service. </div>
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FYI: There are 16 NWRs in Alaska totaling 76,000,000 acres! </div>
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Entrance into this building was at least as thorough as airport
security checks. I didn't have anything in my pockets and I didn't have
a belt on, but my purse has some questionable items, although I passed with no questions.</div>
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I asked an employee if he knew about
the “road between Chicken, Alaska, and Dawson in Yukon Territory,” and he said
“No, I've never been there.” So I asked if anyone in this place
knew, and he disapperaed for awhile into an inner office, came
out and said, “It's gravel with caution for motorcycles.”
Well, that was helpful.... I still have this Yukon River hankering going on in my mind and am beginning to formulate an alternative (to Circle) plan. </div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5xkVMv27HiA/V1UQgKSeJiI/AAAAAAAADI4/fkbYDWNvmf0RAySRH9fKLCapZoa9PBSLQCK4B/s1600/IMG_5536.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5xkVMv27HiA/V1UQgKSeJiI/AAAAAAAADI4/fkbYDWNvmf0RAySRH9fKLCapZoa9PBSLQCK4B/s400/IMG_5536.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Worthington Glacier (I think) on the way to Valdez</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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OK....one more coastal town to visit: Valdez...famous Valdez of earthquake and oil spill disasters. </div>
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<u><b>Alaska Dispatch News</b></u>:</div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 17px;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">"Fifty years ago, North America's most powerful recorded earthquake struck Alaska. With an epicenter in Prince William Sound, the magnitude-9.2 earthquake demolished communities in the state's most populous region, created numerous killer tsunami waves, and resulted in 131 deaths, including some as far away as California. The catastrophic quake is today considered a scientific "black swan," an extremely rare, unpredictable and disastrous event. Twenty-five years later, also in Prince William Sound, came another "black swan," a disaster that officials had assured would not happen except possibly once in a century: the Exxon Valdez oil spill."</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333;"><b><span style="font-family: inherit;">en.wikipedia.org</span></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #252525;">"In Prince William Sound, Port Valdez suffered a massive underwater landslide, resulting in the deaths of 30 people between the collapse of the </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Valdez,_Alaska" style="background-image: none; color: #0b0080; text-decoration: none;" title="Valdez, Alaska">Valdez</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #252525;"> city harbor and docks, and inside the ship that was docked there at the time."</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">There are not enough superlatives to describe the scenery on the way to Valdez. The sun was out; the mountains were incredible; rivers were running high, and there were several lovely waterfalls in Keystone Canyon just north of Valdez. </span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-TsjI4_gx2_U/V1UQoHmo53I/AAAAAAAADJA/CbJYy6p3ucQUnkf5s1rYBoCMgEDX_nTHwCK4B/s1600/IMG_0468.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-TsjI4_gx2_U/V1UQoHmo53I/AAAAAAAADJA/CbJYy6p3ucQUnkf5s1rYBoCMgEDX_nTHwCK4B/s400/IMG_0468.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">road to Valdez</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">On the way, </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">I stopped at the Wrangell-St. Elias National Park and Preserve Visitor Center, which a has separate building for exhibits and also a Native Interpretative museum. These are in a setting of Quaking Aspen and White Spruce, utterly beautiful and peaceful. The aspens are infected (though not mortally) by an aspen leaf miner which stunts the leaf size. Their trails through the leaves are easily seen. The ranger assured me the aspens were not endangered although the infestation is slowly spreading.</span></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-iRMAQH9qhxY/V1UQ3hdV5rI/AAAAAAAADJg/t5bvReTTj_kl2ib5v3Xvcmc07o5OxSqggCK4B/s1600/IMG_5603.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-iRMAQH9qhxY/V1UQ3hdV5rI/AAAAAAAADJg/t5bvReTTj_kl2ib5v3Xvcmc07o5OxSqggCK4B/s400/IMG_5603.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Horsetail Falls just north of Valdez</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">On the desk was a basket of lovely wooden and very realistically painted reproductions of birds' eggs that I coveted. Someone could make these and sell them to the gift shops in all the park and refuge visitor centers. I would buy them in a flash. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">So, still stunned by the beauty I'd seen, I arrived in Valdez which is a mecca for those who love to fish. There were far fewer touristy shops...in fact, barely any, except some bars and restaurants along the harbor. I ate at Mike's Palace and had delicious salmon baked on a thin piece of cedar and a modest portion of tiramisu for dessert. A food channel was on the TV mounted on the wall. I think the proprietor was Russian and prided himself on serving above-average food. He and another dark-haired ESL gentleman were constantly overseeing the action and checking on the customers. Even the veggie side was perfectly prepared and flavored: a mix of broccoli, carrots and redskin potatoes. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I stayed in the Eagle's Nest Campground in a tent site for $30. Everything about this place was efficient, quiet and very clean, including the bathrooms. Again, I did not set up my tent and when I woke to rain in the night, all I had to do was pull the little rear window closed and snuggle back into my cozy sleeping bag. </span></div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--m8fmVg3nfY/V1UQ2Hpbn4I/AAAAAAAADJY/kEpp9gPw_TU3YllhTCHl6IwvGBfvekXRgCK4B/s1600/IMG_5609.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/--m8fmVg3nfY/V1UQ2Hpbn4I/AAAAAAAADJY/kEpp9gPw_TU3YllhTCHl6IwvGBfvekXRgCK4B/s400/IMG_5609.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Valdez Harbor</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">The next morning, the young guy next to me was working hard to get a fire going with his damp wood, fanning it vigorously and adding paper towels in quantity. He and his lady had slept in a tent as they were driving a small sedan. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">As I checked in, a middle-aged woman arrived at the same time and immediately requested a secluded spot, complaining that "they often stick me between two huge rigs...." She was from Arcata, California, and had a newer RoadTrek, lucky lady. These Class B campers are totally self-contained, small enough to handle easily and cost $100K or more. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-W7htHb9dY3Q/V1UQ1EcIj-I/AAAAAAAADJQ/NSfhQVN91J4nfLCnIMh0XTQedhTCgL5kACK4B/s1600/IMG_5619.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-W7htHb9dY3Q/V1UQ1EcIj-I/AAAAAAAADJQ/NSfhQVN91J4nfLCnIMh0XTQedhTCgL5kACK4B/s320/IMG_5619.jpg" width="304" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Halibut fishing derby update in Valdez</td></tr>
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barbarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02350809231161780641noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7692450307030028427.post-42841952953360951122016-06-05T22:14:00.000-07:002016-06-05T22:14:06.128-07:00Destination Circle: Day 20June 2, 2016<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-lr-z137Yc0U/V1T_dasLWsI/AAAAAAAADH0/JABO5trT9OUWj0-S09nFpocES4lsA-1bgCK4B/s1600/IMG_5478.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="242" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-lr-z137Yc0U/V1T_dasLWsI/AAAAAAAADH0/JABO5trT9OUWj0-S09nFpocES4lsA-1bgCK4B/s400/IMG_5478.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Seward, Alaska</td></tr>
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It's difficult to judge the time in the morning: is it 7 a.m. or 3:30 a.m? I don't think it gets truly dark at night as there was always light whenever I woke. I often fall asleep again until the thud of car doors slamming means it's probably actually morning.<br />
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Today started as overcast with low clouds settling on the mountains. A perfect morning to find my new favorite coffee house, the Sea Bean, in downtown Seward. It was light and airy with delicious food and coffee, and couches and prints on the walls and books and a chess board. I ordered breakfast and coffee and used their WiFi for two hours, listening to good bluesy music and the conversations of tourists. A motorcyclist came in with a little boy who had carefully-combed long blond hair with a cowlick from a helmet he had been wearing. Judging by the interplay between the guy and the kid, I made up a story: the guy (who looked so much like Keith Richards that I looked back at him a couple of times) was a wild dad who had picked up his sweet sober small son for a paternal visit. And took him to the local coffee shop on his motorcycle. "It wasn't terribly scary was it? It was kind of fun, doncha think?" he asked the quiet child.<br />
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The skies cleared by noon when I left.<br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-1GLnBGn0Ch8/V1T_5QwuBII/AAAAAAAADIE/6zRvFaYQkGcbcGXeykOzHdLtfVqRnn89wCK4B/s1600/IMG_5481.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-1GLnBGn0Ch8/V1T_5QwuBII/AAAAAAAADIE/6zRvFaYQkGcbcGXeykOzHdLtfVqRnn89wCK4B/s400/IMG_5481.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Seward Harbor with cruise ship in background</td></tr>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ew4yTLfocaM/V1T_uiCdylI/AAAAAAAADH8/WwCauohNu68aAr0YVxsYdGGUhYZXMysxQCK4B/s1600/IMG_0437%2B%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ew4yTLfocaM/V1T_uiCdylI/AAAAAAAADH8/WwCauohNu68aAr0YVxsYdGGUhYZXMysxQCK4B/s400/IMG_0437%2B%25281%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Exit Glacier near Seward, Alaska</td></tr>
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The tourists probably came in on the cruise ship and were querying about the shuttle to "the glacier." This is Exit Glacier, about 15 miles out of town in the Kenai Fjords National Park, and accessible for those who will hike to it. Which I did. A ranger-led group was explaining things to 8 to 10 adults, and I overheard that they would be gone 1-1/2 hours. But then found out that was because there was ranger talk and dawdling along the way. The actual trail was less than a mile, but with some elevation. A lady just ahead of me, while not in deep distress, was wondering "how much longer" to another park guy who happened by. "You're almost there; you are through the hard part..." I was relieved to hear this also.<br />
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Of course Exit Glacier has receded noticeably in the last 50 years but was still impressive to see so close. The fit and hardy hike an 8.1-mile "strenuous" trail farther up the glacier edge led by a dude in very long blond dreads. All were ready for action with their hiking poles and proper clothing. Everywhere I go are Bear and Moose Warning signs and what to do in a close encounter. Like for a moose (which are "unpredictable"), one should run away and get something between you and the moose; in a imminent black bear encounter, fight back; with a grizzly encounter, use bear spray and curl into a fetal position "protecting your neck and abdomen." But with both bears, first try to just "back slowly away, arms out wide and talk quietly to the bear."<br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-8tqEWcXd3Ag/V1UABgJIspI/AAAAAAAADIQ/_DD_RkOxIbIDXOxgxRxauQo0lF9tezWJwCK4B/s1600/IMG_5474.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-8tqEWcXd3Ag/V1UABgJIspI/AAAAAAAADIQ/_DD_RkOxIbIDXOxgxRxauQo0lF9tezWJwCK4B/s320/IMG_5474.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">one more Glaucous-winged Gull</td></tr>
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When I got back to the beautiful Visitor Center, I asked about birds in the area. None of the four staff who were standing around waiting and eager to give out information knew birds, but one quickly got an iPad and a bird ID app and, between us, we figured I was hearing a Wilson's Warbler. I also saw clearly a Violet-Green Swallow. They thanked me for asking questions.<br />
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One starts to become accustomed to the breathtaking scenery. It is everywhere....<br />
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I drove back to Anchorage, stopping by
Potter Marsh to photograph a cooperative Arctic Tern, and then stayed near
the airport, paying too much (even through Priceline) for a room
which was 1/8 mile from the front desk and looked over the tar roof
of an adjacent building. I had a gyro for dinner, though, that was
delicious. The waitress spoke English as ESL, as so many of the employees do in the places I've been. There are parts of Alaska where the
Russian influence is very evident; perhaps the accents are Slavic. The darling girl in the Sea Bean this morning also had an accent I didn't recognize. The
dining room was full of jovial, mostly middle-aged to older folk. I
figure tourists generally fly to Alaska (or take a boat) and these
hotels near the airport are decompression chambers the first night.
Some were eating al fresco on a patio overlooking Lake Hood, which I
could easily see through floor to ceiling windows. It was late
afternoon and sunny and just warm enough. But the ambiance (except
for the huge taxidermied specimens in the lobby) was that of any
bigger city in America. In fact, what I saw of Anchorage in general,
in my cursory drive-throughs, was a city like Grand Rapids or
perhaps Traverse City.
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LiWBjjSL9_0/V1UD5b4M7bI/AAAAAAAADIo/ZCPxqRicHZgb482v8QB-6RCouF8IRzFNgCK4B/s1600/IMG_5501.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LiWBjjSL9_0/V1UD5b4M7bI/AAAAAAAADIo/ZCPxqRicHZgb482v8QB-6RCouF8IRzFNgCK4B/s400/IMG_5501.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Arctic Tern at Potter Marsh</td></tr>
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The world's largest seaplane base is on Lake Hood with hundreds of small floatplanes lining the five “fingers” of canals that were dredged to
accommodate them. I figure Alaska is roughly square in shape, and
only the southeastern section has roads. Thus, bush pilots are an important method of transport for many natives and visitors. Some of the outer
communities and cities do have roads, but they are local
and do not connect with any main routes. So escape or access is by
air or water, or in some places, by rail or dogsled.</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xpVQSCu13yw/V1UAD5-OR3I/AAAAAAAADIY/7zHe23gozxcpxF8gSKmPXRt7_RvlMrbCQCK4B/s1600/IMG_0434.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xpVQSCu13yw/V1UAD5-OR3I/AAAAAAAADIY/7zHe23gozxcpxF8gSKmPXRt7_RvlMrbCQCK4B/s400/IMG_0434.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">print on wall in the Sea Bean in Seward, Alaska</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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The rivers surprised me: most are broad with braided expanses of narrow flowing streams and huge gravel bars, littered with the skeletons of uprooted trees and driftwood. The whole scene looks like one
could wade across or hop from bar to bar. Do these rivers rise and run with snow melt in the spring, changing channels, scouring the river bed, leaving debris?</div>
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<br />barbarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02350809231161780641noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7692450307030028427.post-15055888706588090812016-06-05T10:07:00.003-07:002016-06-05T10:07:48.450-07:00Destination Circle: Day 19<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
June 1, 2016</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;">s<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5b5Unbto_24/V1ROnE729wI/AAAAAAAADGk/oaE0irhPK0M8KmntQlp7qJOUbgxFV5ebQCK4B/s1600/IMG_5270.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5b5Unbto_24/V1ROnE729wI/AAAAAAAADGk/oaE0irhPK0M8KmntQlp7qJOUbgxFV5ebQCK4B/s400/IMG_5270.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Homer, Alaska - Beluga </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
It was ovecast when I left my wonderful
room, but not cold and not raining. After a stop for an Americano just down the street, I walked the Beluga Slough Trail, seeing a single Sandhill Crane, a few crows and sparrows, gulls flying overhead and
ducks in the distance. The marsh / slough was on one side and the
ocean in front of me. It was peaceful. How can proximity to the ocean
not be therapeutic? Driftwood, salty air mixed with the scent of the evergreens, ice-capped mountains across the bay...</div>
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<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-D2P7qO198hE/V1ROjT25knI/AAAAAAAADGc/T4xInYh_NOUdkD6Wy0sCVYbSh3rNdrYcQCK4B/s1600/IMG_5277.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-D2P7qO198hE/V1ROjT25knI/AAAAAAAADGc/T4xInYh_NOUdkD6Wy0sCVYbSh3rNdrYcQCK4B/s400/IMG_5277.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Alaska Maritime National Wildlife Refuge - Homer, Alaska</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
The Visitor Center had the usual
exhibits of natural history and habitats, information, conservation
concerns, short movies /videos, a small gift / book shop and staff
eager to help anyone with anything. I learned that one can hop on a
ferry here and go as far as the Aleutian Islands, or to Kodiak, or
one can rent a “water taxi” and explore the islands and ocean that way. In
fact, a ranger who had been a naturalist on the Tustamena (boat to
Kodiak, Dutch Harbor, Unalaska, etc., for 12 years) and now at the Visitor Center was knowledgeable
about birds. He suggested I take a 2- or 4-hour trip with someone he
personally recommended from a list of charters telling me that “You WILL see birds...Karl knows his birds and where to find them.” So I
tried for 30 minutes to call but could not get my phone to work as a
telephone. I was repeatedly prompted to “re-enter the 10 digit
number ....” which I did along with changing
settings, but nothing worked and I also kind of knew I wouldn't just
be able to call, get on his boat, spend 2 to 4 hours and be on my
way. It was already 10 a.m. I didn't want to spend all day and another night here.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
So I drove back out on the Spit and
watched the gulls in the harbor get especially excited about the
comings and goings of the fishing boats.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NHUSE3ceqjA/V1ROvlLg0OI/AAAAAAAADGs/JVI1qbD-lFAPuDvLTlTaSaem04zuiq-mQCK4B/s1600/IMG_5405.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NHUSE3ceqjA/V1ROvlLg0OI/AAAAAAAADGs/JVI1qbD-lFAPuDvLTlTaSaem04zuiq-mQCK4B/s400/IMG_5405.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sailing in Seward Alaska</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I went to Seward next. The Kenai
Peninsula is a large chunk of land below Anchorage that ends in
fimbriations of fjords. These land masses are jagged wild places with
glaciers, mountains and no roads. The cruise ships are only allowed within a
certain distance of the coast; however, the more intrepid and adventurous travelers rent water taxis, are transported into the fjords and dropped off with their kayaks and tents and backpacks. As far I as could gather, there isn't
the same regulatory presence in these national lands as there
is the the lower 48.<br />
<br />
I don't remember if I mentioned the cruise ship, the Zaandam, which was docked in Skagway the morning we arrived there on the Matanuska, but this ship eventually continued on to Seward and, once in port and docked, the crew discovered a 50-foot dead fin whale wrapped around its bow. No one is certain how this happened: was the whale dead before the encounter, or did the ship hit it? the immediate problem being what to do with a decomposing whale, so it was towed onto an undisclosed beach nearby where a necropsy was performed. The newspaper said that these cruise / whale-watching ships have measures to avoid harming whales, so who knows how this happened?</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Rzosh49i0DI/V1RQrycdiAI/AAAAAAAADG8/tTs5HdVCpN44on5gVBbqMxWmjhhNP7WdwCK4B/s1600/IMG_5391.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="246" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Rzosh49i0DI/V1RQrycdiAI/AAAAAAAADG8/tTs5HdVCpN44on5gVBbqMxWmjhhNP7WdwCK4B/s320/IMG_5391.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Barrow's Goldeneyes - Seward, Alaska</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Seward is a deep water port surrounded by mountains and glaciers. A gigantic cruise ship arrived in the
night, and the small boat harbor was filled with fishing boats. When I first arrived, I drove out on a marginal road along the water, past signs
warming of avalanches and falling rocks. I saw hundreds of Glaucous-winged
Gulls, some Harlequin Ducks, a Black Oystercatcher, Bald Eagles. Near
the end of the road were funky camping
areas. I did camp but closer to town, right on the water, as did
hundreds of others. The registration was automated and efficient. It was chilly and windy, and I sat in the car
for two hours, catching on up on this blog, drinking a glass of wine.
I tried to eat the cold leftovers of my dinner the night before (the
gorgonzola mac and cheese and non-rock crab) which had now congealed into
a hard unappetizing lump that really wasn't even “forkable.” So I
walked for an hour which sounds virtuous, but I was only in
search of food. Several downtown (about a 3-block area) had bars and
restaurants with doors open to the night with the sounds of the happy
relaxed people inside, but I only wanted a munchie or small snack, not a $30
minimum meal. Finally, at the harbor, on the other end of town, I got
an ice-cream cone. Walking back to the campground, I saw a guy catch
a huge fish, throw it on the dock and continue fishing.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
The restrooms at the campground were acceptable, barely.
But the view was awesome....I have seldom been out of sight of
the most photogenic, classic, snow-covered mountains while in Alaska. The snow extends in ribbons down the drainages, and on the slopes,
there are often large white patches surrounded by bright spring greenery.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
So Seward is another town between mountains and
ocean. Of course, hard-core outdoor
adventurers love Alaska with its opportunities to climb, hike,
bicycle, kayak, sail, fish, hunt, canoe...The homes away from the
cities are not trophy homes and usually have yards full of stuff. There are often one or more additions to the original structure, greenhouses, attached or
separate, un-mowed lawns, stacks of firewood, double
entrances and unpaved driveways. The properties mostly look
a bit messy and littered, unpretentious...</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I have seen two police cars in
the past two weeks. Traffic generally moves at 65 at the high end
with many pull-outs and passing lanes.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-0a8ai5K7V2c/V1RQ3LuhVBI/AAAAAAAADHU/R9qgH05SntcpXUu4stay6T-cGD89J7PmwCK4B/s1600/IMG_5411.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="275" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-0a8ai5K7V2c/V1RQ3LuhVBI/AAAAAAAADHU/R9qgH05SntcpXUu4stay6T-cGD89J7PmwCK4B/s400/IMG_5411.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Seward is the city of murals</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-W1hvloxMBzk/V1RQyGY1MjI/AAAAAAAADHE/MMh0ERu4rm0gD2Emiod3y_UdudAWG2SNwCK4B/s1600/IMG_5231.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-W1hvloxMBzk/V1RQyGY1MjI/AAAAAAAADHE/MMh0ERu4rm0gD2Emiod3y_UdudAWG2SNwCK4B/s200/IMG_5231.jpg" width="200" /></a>Another camper pulled in near me, a
young guy, who was also puzzled about the “rules.” One was not
directed to a designated campsite and could just pick anyplace that
was available. But there also were no little posts on which one could
clip a registration, so I didn't know what would happen if I left
with no signs that my space was occupied. I guess I could have put up
my tent, but it was chilly...<br />
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-CMTPNxaHWks/V1RQ0mMvuYI/AAAAAAAADHM/_F0kfHPzUtwfIDCs6HzcLusuKWgLowenQCK4B/s1600/IMG_5234.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="165" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-CMTPNxaHWks/V1RQ0mMvuYI/AAAAAAAADHM/_F0kfHPzUtwfIDCs6HzcLusuKWgLowenQCK4B/s200/IMG_5234.jpg" width="200" /></a><br />
I read until I got sleepy and slept
perfectly well...<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Amy's flowers....<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
barbarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02350809231161780641noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7692450307030028427.post-61959719424243710202016-06-02T13:08:00.000-07:002016-06-05T22:14:36.977-07:00Destination Circle: Day 18May 31, 2016<br />
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I have been having weather karma with yet another clear morning of sunshine and mountains and the ocean, beginning today in the form of the Cook Inlet. My first duty was to find the Title Wave
bookstore in Anchorage. Dave and Ellen have mentioned this place so many
times, and I never need urging to visit a bookstore. It is similar to Powell's in Portland. Most of the books are
secondhand. It's huge. I got some treasures to add to my car library. And then
had a raspberry scone and coffee at Kaladi's, an Alaskan alternative
to Starbucks and just as good, and bought an iced ginger molasses
cookie for later.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ixfrsvgE1HE/V1CNWFWL2RI/AAAAAAAADGA/K7JVmoj_qC8WQW2q4MBmGeIJQ7XVlHc7gCK4B/s1600/IMG_5203.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ixfrsvgE1HE/V1CNWFWL2RI/AAAAAAAADGA/K7JVmoj_qC8WQW2q4MBmGeIJQ7XVlHc7gCK4B/s400/IMG_5203.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Homer, Alaska</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
My destination was Homer on
the Kenai Peninsula, a couple hundred miles mostly south of
Anchorage. But first I lingered at a lovely marsh and boardwalk on the city limits
(Potter Marsh). Gulls, terns, eagles,
ducks...</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
The route to Homer is along the north shore of
Turnagain Arm, around its eastern end and then west and south. Anchorage is at the point of land at the far end of Cook Inlet where a peninsula from the mainland juts into the water, thus splitting the Cook Inlet into the
Turnagain Arm on the south and the Knik Arm on the north. So the city has ocean on three sides. One has to drive
around the Turnagain and then west and south to get to Homer, into the Kenia Peninsula moving through the huge Kenai National Wildlife Refuge with the Kenai Fjords
and the Harding Icefield to the south. It's takes mindfulness to
concentrate on driving safely with so much natural grandeur....including the roadless wilderness across the Cook Inlet. The land settles down near Soldotna, and for the last hour, I could be driving in Michigan, although as I got closer to the
ocean, it was reminiscent of the coast north of
Ft. Bragg, California. </div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ApuS3P47FLM/V1CNRTYAUxI/AAAAAAAADF4/Iu-CWtphThUhPhxZq5a64y-JRYR2E-x3QCK4B/s1600/IMG_5193.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="305" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ApuS3P47FLM/V1CNRTYAUxI/AAAAAAAADF4/Iu-CWtphThUhPhxZq5a64y-JRYR2E-x3QCK4B/s400/IMG_5193.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">nesting Mew Gulls in the harbor in Homer, Alaska</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Homer: Hmmm....where to stay? I
wandered up and down the streets checking out options, half looking
to camp and half needing to tend to business requiring the Internet
(like paying bills). I happened on The Pioneer Inn, a
two-story home with lovely perennial gardens. I decided to try to find the rates online and happened on a serendipity...the owners were Rich and
Amy who had run this place since 1991. Rich was originally from
Georgia and Amy was from Grand Rapids, Michigan. As I was reading
this on my iPhone, she came across the parking lot carrying potted plants and
wearing gardening gloves. I talked with her and then Rich who also
appeared. They had one room available just for the night at a reasonable rate, like half what most motels were asking this time of
year. Check it out next time you're in Homer.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
A fishing boat was on a trailer
in the yard. Rich and his sons (I think they were his sons) had
built this according to a photo in the room: the Miss Amy. He had been a pilot for Eastern Airlines
until that company was no more. He bought this place in Homer 40+
years ago, learned construction, did commercial fishing (Homer is the
halibut capital he world) and still flies around Alaska. Amy home-schooled their kids.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I loved Homer. It does have tourist
kitsch but also seems grounded and not self-conscious alternate. The small hippie businesses are borderline west coast shabby but in a nice way, along with the mainstream businesses, a
large fishing harbor and hundreds of Mew and Glaucous-winged Gulls.
Not many other birds, although the crow I kept seeing was the
Northwestern Crow, not the American Crow; therefore, another life
bird! I missed (by two weeks) an annual shorebird festival. Spring migration is mostly over and the bird have flown on.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xiimvx2bNpE/V1CNMjb32SI/AAAAAAAADFw/4Kr0KEujRl0TpaDxkn045bps6jHo_xqSACK4B/s1600/IMG_5172.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xiimvx2bNpE/V1CNMjb32SI/AAAAAAAADFw/4Kr0KEujRl0TpaDxkn045bps6jHo_xqSACK4B/s320/IMG_5172.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Old town - Homer, Alaska</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
The Visitor Center for the Maritime
National Wildlife Refuge was closed for the night. I'll check that
out in the morning. The few blocks of Old Town were more eclectic and
funky than the rest of Homer, situated a block from the
Pacific, which hereabouts is Kachemak Bay. I ate at one of Rich's recommendations, Fat Olives, and had Gorgonzola Cheese and Rock Crab Mac 'n Cheese, tasty, caloric, expensive and lacking identifiable Rock Crab. The waiter with no hesitation or apology said, "Oh, it's mixed in with the sauce..." I just laughed as the wine was fine, the music nice mix of blues and I loved being in this fairly remote little town for the night. </div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7NpATULzCjA/V1CNZ6O3G-I/AAAAAAAADGI/m2dOHre6u3EqAo2FLF549bKeOihCJgmigCK4B/s1600/IMG_5209.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="224" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7NpATULzCjA/V1CNZ6O3G-I/AAAAAAAADGI/m2dOHre6u3EqAo2FLF549bKeOihCJgmigCK4B/s320/IMG_5209.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">on the Homer Spit</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Homer also has a Spit, a
five-mile sliver of land sticking southeast into the bay. One can
drive to the end, or walk or bike. Along the way are dozens of small tourist shops and bars
and restaurants but also dirty sand and pebbly beaches where one can
camp in a tent or small RV or camper, build campfires, hang out, be
loose. Just offshore, Pacific and Common Loons were diving as I drove at 5 mph over the rocks and sand. In a tiny lagoon, a dozen
people were spaced out around the perimeter, fishing. If I had investigated the Spit before coming on the Pioneer, I probably would have camped there. </div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
My room was basic but perfectly clean with large windows overlooking the back yard. The bed was incredibly comfortable, and
I've slept in a lot of good beds recently. It was huge; the
sheets soft and almost silky. Two of the pillows had white
pillowcases and two had pillowcases the color of blue-green
sea glass.</div>
barbarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02350809231161780641noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7692450307030028427.post-88270382357177099342016-06-02T12:16:00.001-07:002016-06-02T12:16:08.684-07:00Destination Circle: Day 17May 30, 2016<br />
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Laundry on my mind. I've been
procrastinating but also realize this is not all that necessary as
I packed too many clothes. But I'll never have such a lovely
place to do laundry again and headed to the “Riley Mercantile.” I
had checked this out last night and expected early morning on
Memorial Day would be a good time, with no waiting. Except it apparently was
what others thought also. </div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I met a couple from Vermont and a guy
from Texas, and we chatted in the way of total strangers who will
likely never meet again. The guy looked like Dennis Quaid, not quite
as handsome, tall, a few pounds overweight but pleasant. He had a great
smile and eyes that twinkled with good will. He was wearing a
nondescript blue buttoned polyester shirt with a couple of small old stains
and some baggy unremarkable pants. He was helping with this chore for
his family of wife and four kids (“ages 4 to 21”) and were
traveling in a large RV. They spend the winter in Austin, Texas, and
then summer at a lake house in Wisconsin. They always travel together
but when I asked further, he said how their trips were “mostly
pilgrimages...like to Rome, the Holy Land, Lourdes....” Once he
told me that he and his wife had been on “that island” (meaning Mackinaw when I said I lived in Michigan) for a
wedding anniversary, the first time away from the kids in 20 years, and “we were sittin' on the porch and I looked at her and said, 'You miss the
kids don't you? You wanna go home?'” They both agreed and so he
“called the pilot" and they left within the hour. His wife
home-schools the kids. They live on an old hunting ranch in Texas.
That's all I got...He was not in the least bit pretentious, surely
didn't look or act as a person with means, but he must have them.
Means...</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-XzuwwXjRaKk/V1CB-SlXNoI/AAAAAAAADE8/Q72gM6X4nuMlekuNEV5DLvsPKCczscbUACK4B/s1600/IMG_5082%2B%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-XzuwwXjRaKk/V1CB-SlXNoI/AAAAAAAADE8/Q72gM6X4nuMlekuNEV5DLvsPKCczscbUACK4B/s400/IMG_5082%2B%25281%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px; text-align: center;">the Alfred Hitchcock Mew Gulls at Savage Creek in Denali<br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
The couple were in their 60s, and were pulling a “three-season
camper” behind a new Subaru station wagon. The wife was an alpha
talker, a type A all the way. The first thing I heard from her was
how the washing machine's “Start button needs to be pushed hard
because it said 25 and I thought it meant another quarter, but it
meant 25 minutes, but I had already put my quarter in, so they gave
me back 25 cents....” The husband was a gentle soul who tried to
help but didn't always get it right according to his wife. He had had major heart surgery
last year but is now fit enough so they hiked nine miles yesterday.
“She's my coach,” he said nodding to his wife. She told me all
about good campgrounds, about campgrounds where they have "little
shampoo bottles like motels," campgrounds that have hair dryers. When
she asked about what to see in Michigan should they ever vacation
there, she got out a little spiral notebook and very earnestly took notes on my
random suggestions. She looked at me rather quizzically like I was a
curiosity, traveling on my own. She wondered how I get my mail. She
told me where to stay in Valdez and that “you have to go there and stay at the Eagle's Nest campground.”
She goes to every Visitor Center along the way, because “they are
free,” but she also likes museums, and on and on. She and her
husband had a few snappish moments between them, and she also
admonished the Texas guy when she noticed he put more than a quarter
cup of laundry detergent in the little holder. He just smiled and responded by saying
how he was noticing her meticulous folding of clean laundry and that
precipitated several sentences on why she washes everything inside
out and why she folds the way she does, etc., etc. But hey, they are out doing it...enjoying life, delighted they now qualify for the extraordinary good deal of a Golden Age Pass. </div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Just outside, at a picnic table, a man
was working on a laptop plugged into an external outlet. The adjacent
little store had good coffee and three young dudes working. All these
kids like Emily must line up for the chance to work in our grand
national parks.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ly67-QdwWvc/V1CCJ_KSIsI/AAAAAAAADFM/jyfKOR2p-JcD-aBsNY5Olk1ve7BbvFTigCK4B/s1600/IMG_5041.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="298" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ly67-QdwWvc/V1CCJ_KSIsI/AAAAAAAADFM/jyfKOR2p-JcD-aBsNY5Olk1ve7BbvFTigCK4B/s400/IMG_5041.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Alaskan sled dogs in Denali NP</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
It was such a glorious day. I missed
the shuttle to the sled dog presentation so drove 3.5 miles up the road and lucked out finding a parking place. The park uses
Alaskan sled dogs, both to entertain and instruct visitors in the summer but also
as working dogs, since there are no motorized vehicles in the park in
the winter (or so they say). There were 30 to 40 beautiful dogs, each on a
short chain with her/her name on his/her dog house. Most were
somnolent until it was time to run them around a track behind a dog
sled, when, as the trainers walked towards them,
the energy changed dramatically, as in lunging, barking, howling, jumping, straining on their chains. The dogs, of course, have no idea whose turn it will be today so all are eager and hopeful. A fortunate five were chosen, and there was one short run around a small track but it was impressive. They do
this show three times a day all summer. Ranger Jake then talked for 30 minutes about the dogs and what they do in Denali. </div>
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I drove up the park road as far as allowed in my car
and hiked a very short distance along the Savage River. Mew Gulls are
abundant all over southeastern Alaska and they were mobbing a woman
on a gravel bar in the river who was running away, hunched over and
flailing with her hands about her head. Yesterday, Wendy, our shuttle driver, called them
“crabby birds.” She would revert to baby-talk a few times when
referring to animal behavior.</div>
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<br />
</div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-XhXd34pCKXc/V1CCPqmVoQI/AAAAAAAADFU/sr13aDVWo8AQWKWwPntCSvzWOaf2X2AdwCK4B/s1600/IMG_0411.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-XhXd34pCKXc/V1CCPqmVoQI/AAAAAAAADFU/sr13aDVWo8AQWKWwPntCSvzWOaf2X2AdwCK4B/s400/IMG_0411.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Habitat quilt in the Murie Center for Learning and Science in Denali NP </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I stopped by the Murie Science and Learning Center
with more exhibits and interactive videos, but the most amazing object was a gigantic quilt
done by a group of women in Healy, a town just up the road. It was Denali National Park done in the pixelated squares of a habitat map, at
least 20 different zones. And, surrounding the map and
acting as a border, were individual squares, representing all of
the habitats and done in free form by each of the women who worked on
the quilt. It filled the whole wall behind the front desk.
</div>
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<br />
</div>
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Before I left the park for good, I sat
in the parking lot under aspens and had a sandwich. It was weird as
it felt exactly like a quintessial Indian summer day in Michigan, so
much so that I didn't resist the notion and reveled in the autumn sun
and warmth while the leaves fluttered in the breeze. It must be the
Alaskan quality of light, the position of the sun and cool temperatures...whatever, it was delightful. Autumn in the Spring. I had also felt this season confusion yesterday while on the bus.</div>
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Many tourists are foreigners...northern Europeans, East Indians and Japanese. I saw no
African-Americans or Hispanics.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-vz7-YrlyODs/V1CBzQ0O9TI/AAAAAAAADE0/BB_3t2h4oh4PyIaRLXMLrb_tiDVHLOGEgCK4B/s1600/IMG_4883.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="332" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-vz7-YrlyODs/V1CBzQ0O9TI/AAAAAAAADE0/BB_3t2h4oh4PyIaRLXMLrb_tiDVHLOGEgCK4B/s400/IMG_4883.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Denali NP very close to the Visitor Center</td></tr>
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<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I forgot to mention that yesterday, we immediately saw a mother moose and calf actually meandering through the Visitor Center parking area. And that I saw a pair of Harlequin ducks in one of the streams we passed. Harlequins rival Wood Ducks in beauty.</div>
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Off to Anchorage, 250 miles south, with
spectacular views of Denali intermittently along the way. Occasionally, I would see signs of "Road Work from 9 p.m. to 6 a.m. and finally (duh...) realized that of course...since it stays light nearly all night.</div>
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I knew from experience that I can usually get a good deal at high-end hotels early in the week. I did exactly
that and stayed in a Sheraton overlooking the city. It was still
twilight at midnight when I finally went to bed. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">south to Anchorage</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
barbarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02350809231161780641noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7692450307030028427.post-45394330912485443682016-05-31T10:28:00.001-07:002016-05-31T10:29:03.939-07:00Destination Circle: Day 16May 29, 2016<br />
<br />
Denali National Park and Preserve, formerly McKinley National Park, is 6,000,000 acres, mostly designated Wilderness, meaning very little man-made alteration is allowed. It truly is a gift to all of us; it's yours and mine to visit but it's home to the animals.<br />
<br />
Here's the deal: There is one main park road which is 92 miles and ends at Kantishna where gold was found which was the original impetus for white men to enter what is now Denali, but this incredibly beautiful land also drew others:<br />
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<b>www.kantishnaroadhouse.com</b><br />
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">"<span style="color: #2f2f2e; font-size: 18px;">The spring of 1906 brings a remarkable individual to the region, Charles Sheldon. A retired businessman and self trained naturalist, Sheldon comes to the region primarily to study northern sheep (Dall). Well traveled and Yale-educated, he immediately recognizes the uniqueness of the place with the spectacular mountain scenery, Mount McKinley (Denali) the tallest mountain in North America, and the opportunity to see wildlife in such a majestic setting. After a summer exploration with Harry Karstens, another of the Denali greats, he decides to return the following spring. By August of 1907 Sheldon had established his camp along the Toklat river, building a cabin and spending the winter collecting specimens for the Biologic Survey. Noticing the hunting practices of market hunters coming into the area, he realizes that if the animal populations were not protected they would be extripated, hunted out. So begins a colossal fight to protect the animal populations and in turn results in the creation (February 1917) of what eventually becomes Denali National Park and Preserve. A crown jewel in the national park system. Charles Sheldon is considered the founding father and guiding spirit of Denali. He laid out the original park boundary and in his diary on January 12, 1908, presumably in his cabin on the Toklat river, coined the name Denali National Park. Harry Karstens, at the suggestion of Sheldon, became the first park superintendent, and is considered to have set the standard for administration along with being a grand adventurer in his own right, having led a party, the first, to the top of Denali (June 7,1913).</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">The park however was not immediately available to the general public, in fact it was something of a back water. Even with the completion of the Alaska Railroad in 1923 access to the interior of the park was limited because of the rugged terrain and lack of funding coming from the Department of the Interior to develop an access road. It wasn’t until 1938 after 15 seasons of toil that a road snakes through to the Kantishna district.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-cH6FjEpGB4E/V03Dn_3YCeI/AAAAAAAADEA/QnWqvtRetJosCWSZPPdb1ypfsJCn0cFhgCK4B/s1600/IMG_4890.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-cH6FjEpGB4E/V03Dn_3YCeI/AAAAAAAADEA/QnWqvtRetJosCWSZPPdb1ypfsJCn0cFhgCK4B/s400/IMG_4890.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Add caption</td></tr>
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Most vehicles are not allowed past the the 15-mile mark, but bus tours/shuttles run all day from May through September, either a talking tour or (in theory) a silent shuttle. The drivers either tell passengers all about the park (tours) or just drives the bus (shuttles). And one can choose a long or short tour/shuttle. I opted for the long talking tour but it was filled up so reserved a spot on a 6-hour "silent" bus which went as far Toklat River at mile 54. I had to be at the WAC (Wilderness Access Center) at 0730. These less expensive shuttles leave all day at half-hour intervals. Whenever and wherever someone wants to get off to hike around or camp in the backcountry, they just hop off anywhere along the road. If one wants back on a bus, he/she just stands by the road-side and holds up a thumb. The tours are more expensive than the shuttles. The prices range from $150 to $50 per person.<br />
<br />
People are pretty much allowed anywhere in Denali as long as they sign up, watch a backcountry safety video, learn how to leave no trace, learn about grizzlies and moose dangers, have the required gear, etc. There are trails to follow or hikers can bushwhack.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-F-KByGHsvtY/V03DrIHfbfI/AAAAAAAADEI/5OOv6ZvWSpQBhIFQqpxVQgofpObYHAtgQCK4B/s1600/IMG_4940.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="298" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-F-KByGHsvtY/V03DrIHfbfI/AAAAAAAADEI/5OOv6ZvWSpQBhIFQqpxVQgofpObYHAtgQCK4B/s400/IMG_4940.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Add caption</td></tr>
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<br />
I also made a reservation at the only campground with space available. One can drive a vehicle to the Teklanika camping area well up into the park but must stay a minimum of three days. From a base there, campers just walk out to the main park road and wait for buses to take them wherever they wish.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Denali National Park</td></tr>
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I was very lucky with the weather. Everyone, of course, wants to "see the mountain" and only 30% do as clouds obscure it most days. It was another perfect day weather-wise.<br />
<br />
We hopped on a new green bus and the driver (Wendy) was wonderful. She came to Alaska 30+ years ago when her Dad worked on the pipeline. I figured she was now in her 50s. In the winter she drives a school bus in Anchorage. She talked the whole way, which was fine as she was funny, helped spot animals (one grizzly, several Dall sheep, moose and caribou) and knew just enough of the geology, flora, and the history of Denali to be interesting. She wasn't required to talk as this wasn't an official informative tour, but she loved doing it. The road was gravel much of the way, a bit precipitous in a few places ("don't look down or move to the other side of the bus if this bothers you") with several pullouts. I had to laugh: on the way back, half the passengers were sleeping or dozing....like this was a tiring experience. We picked up and dropped off people several times. Most were serious dedicated backpackers with their huge loads, girls and guys, fit, healthy, attractive, adventurous.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-53V9Glf9aB8/V03D0xQ01YI/AAAAAAAADEY/vJuJGXiDbJISB-ZUtnhhEPQoOqQpkv8JQCK4B/s1600/IMG_5035.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-53V9Glf9aB8/V03D0xQ01YI/AAAAAAAADEY/vJuJGXiDbJISB-ZUtnhhEPQoOqQpkv8JQCK4B/s400/IMG_5035.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Riley Creek Campground in Denali National Park</td></tr>
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And there are the mountain climbers. As of yesterday, of the 457 people on the mountain, one of them died, a 45-year-old Czech man who "tumbled roughly 1500 feet" which was "witnessed by multiple parties at the 14,200-foot base camp." They reached him within 10 minutes, but he died of multiple trauma. Less than 20% of those who have tried summiting this year have succeeded. (<u>Alaska Dispatch News</u>).<br />
<br />
By mid afternoon, we were back and I drove through the campground, picking out a good spot. The young man who registered me warned about moose who wander the campground and who "are calving this time of year. We had to send several people to the hospital last year. If you are charged, just get something between you and the moose and zig-zag." There were absolutely no insects, no moose; the sun was out, the camp sites were all tucked in the spruces. I got a few supplies for dinner and settled in, half reading and half watching the quiet comings and goings of those near me.<br />
<br />
As the evening with its forever light progressed, most folks sat quietly around campfires. I debated whether to set up my tent and then did not, due to inertia and the totally comfortable cot in my van. I have a great sleeping bag and slept soundly all night, waking at 0600 and then going back to sleep until 0730. I was warm but reluctant to get out of my sleeping bag as the temperature was in the low 40s. But there was laundry to do....barbarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02350809231161780641noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7692450307030028427.post-19387104127438610322016-05-31T01:13:00.001-07:002016-05-31T08:51:30.834-07:00Destination Circle: Day 15May 28, 2016<br />
<br />
Shucks.....I finally researched Circle and how exactly to get there. It is 160 miles northeast of Fairbanks with a population of 110, and it was my destination for the past two weeks. BUT, I decided not to go BECAUSE it would mean driving 160 miles of gravel road (only the first 80 are paved), and there are few services along the way if I got a flat tire which was a good possibility. I wanted to go to Circle to see the Yukon River, a river that for me is the epitome of wild and romantic Alaska and which was a prominent feature in nearly all the tales of Alaska I have read. I've always been drawn to rivers. However, there was a good chance I would inconvenience any unwary fellow traveler who would find me stranded by the side of the road with a vehicle malfunction. I really thought this road was paved all the way as there was no indication on the most of the maps that it wasn't. And after being on gravel for 40 miles yesterday, I got that out of my system.<br />
<br />
I was mildly disappointed but so it goes....so it goes when one doesn't plan in advance very much.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mj_OGe158Kw/V008kjsfSoI/AAAAAAAADCs/jkrSLV6Ge1YpOYTuw9x3H-x5S2CSqoqxACK4B/s1600/IMG_4832.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mj_OGe158Kw/V008kjsfSoI/AAAAAAAADCs/jkrSLV6Ge1YpOYTuw9x3H-x5S2CSqoqxACK4B/s400/IMG_4832.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Campground in Fairbanks where I did not stay</td></tr>
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The sun was again shining this morning, and I found a beautiful campground (that I wished I had known about as I would have stayed there last night) on the banks of the Chena River which runs through Fairbanks. I sat by the river in the sun and sweet-smelling air, then and for breakfast ate a delicious Crab Louis salad from the deli in a Safeway but then discovered it tasted so good because it had 60% MDR of sodium...black olives, imitation crab meat, hard-boiled egg, greens, grape tomatoes and a dressing.<br />
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The drive to Denali National Park was a couple of hours and 100 miles south. I had tried to figure out where to stay the night and wanted to camp in the park. It being a holiday weekend and without reserving a campsite in advance, nothing was available for tonight, so I finally found a place called Denali Cabins on the Internet near the park. Except I couldn't find it in real-time. Siri directed me to an address on the highway with no dwelling in sight north of the park entrance. I tried again and got various directions both north and south of my current position. I finally found Grizzly Denali Campground or some name like that, pulled in, asked, and they told me Denali Cabins were "two miles south."<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wild Rose and Aspen at the campground in Fairbanks</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-dDr98foVMd0/V01B4BpVcxI/AAAAAAAADDs/A8OEtCDChCQoNo89qMHGHp9uM0Zu0AhTQCK4B/s1600/IMG_4875.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="283" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-dDr98foVMd0/V01B4BpVcxI/AAAAAAAADDs/A8OEtCDChCQoNo89qMHGHp9uM0Zu0AhTQCK4B/s400/IMG_4875.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Denali Cabins at 11 p.m.</td></tr>
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They were wonderful. Even though my online reservation hadn't made it through, I showed the two seasonal workers at the desk (two college-age guys, one from Wisconsin and the other from California) the confirmation on my phone. They got the manager and she straightened it all out. I had a cabin to myself in this place that was fragrant with scent of pines. I lounged in the sunshine, reading, for several hours on the deck of what I thought was a bar (Lounge and Learn) until I went in search of a glass of wine late afternoon and discovered it was a cozy room with books and couches and puzzles, etc., and not a bar at all. But there WAS a restaurant next door where I got a light dinner. It was (to me) idyllic. More folks arrived throughout the evening, some by a free shuttle that went back and forth from the park. The whole place had an understated north woods ambiance, in contrast to the hype and busyness of Park Village, a mile north of the park, which had the usual tourist commotion of gift shops and eateries and high-end lodging choices. The night was utterly quiet and I slept with the window open.<br />
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barbarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02350809231161780641noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7692450307030028427.post-46427052357212236032016-05-31T00:00:00.001-07:002016-05-31T00:00:47.424-07:00Destination Circle: Day 14<br />
May 27, 2016<br />
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When I through Whitehorse last night in
the rain, I noticed a Starbucks a couple of blocks from the Best Western, another surprise as there have
been no free-standing Starbucks in the towns I've traveled through recently, and
I certainly didn't expect to find one in Whitehorse.</div>
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So I worked there for an hour in the morning on the computer. Just outside the entrance, a ravaged Native was asking people
for money. No one offered him anything as far as I could tell. I got a $5
Canadian bill ready to hand to him when I left, but he had moved on by then.
The farther north I go in Canada, I see and hear more evidence and acknowledgement of First Nation
peoples. Their concerns and redress for past wrongs is
currently in the collective consciousness if judged by commentary on
the CBC. Many place names are First Nation and several new museums
and exhibits depict their history AND their present status.
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yukon Territory - west of Whitehorse</td></tr>
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Then I drove 600 miles to Fairbanks on
the Alaska (ALCAN) highway. I didn't intend to go that far, but it
was fine, especially as the sun isn't setting until nearly midnight.
It was a memorable day, driving all those miles with a billion trees
and minimal signs of human intrusion on the land. </div>
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I stopped a couple of times: at a First
Nation Cultural Center in Haines Junction (Da Ku, meaning Our House) and then at Buckshot Betty's Roadhouse, a cozy place
with a wood stove, a bakery, decent food, a friendly waitress,
Canadian memorabilia for sale like T-shirts, sweatshirts and books
about the North, and knickknacks near the register tempting those
waiting to pay...items like “Wine Gum” which I never did figure
out. The wrapper had the illustration of a piece of gum being pierced
by a corkscrew.</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-fGXDVQBL5i8/V00yrxDYtHI/AAAAAAAADCQ/nfGYaHrjuYc_0SMaOT7v-HgFsQP40oU0QCK4B/s1600/IMG_4825.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-fGXDVQBL5i8/V00yrxDYtHI/AAAAAAAADCQ/nfGYaHrjuYc_0SMaOT7v-HgFsQP40oU0QCK4B/s400/IMG_4825.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Moose and calf - near Tok, Alaska</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
The Kluane National Park and Preserve west of Whitehorse matched the beauty of Banff and Jaspar National Parks and is also notable for massive ice fields behind
the visible peaks. The traffic was
minimal, and my day was mostly spent in the Canadian bush and
wilderness, adjacent to mountains, driving over muskeg and bogs, past
lakes and ponds and through spruce and alder, willows and aspen.
Twice, I saw black bear along the roadside, and late in the day, a
mother moose and her very young calf. I carefully showed down and
stopped in the middle of the road to take photos. Such was the
scarcity of traffic.</div>
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<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
At one point, the highway became gravel...for miles. I wondered if I had missed a sign for this, but eventually came upon road construction crews with pilot cars and long waits x2, and then more long stretches of gravel interrupted by an occasional brief segment of pavement...for at least 40 miles. Frost heave requires constant maintenance of this route. I waited for one pilot car near a lake with several pair of American Wigeons but, again, I haven't seen many birds this far north.</div>
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</div>
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All day, I passed through brief rain
showers, the sky dramatic and constantly changing with deep grey
clouds moving in a bright blue expanse. The white trunks of the aspens
(Maria's tree) are as lovely as the anything in this land.</div>
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</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Just after going through customs AGAIN,
I stopped for gas which was $3.65/gallon, so I drove on, hoping it
would be cheaper closer to Fairbanks, and it was in Tok (pronounced
Toke). Ginny once dated a boy from Tok when we lived in Montana, a polite, gentle, shy kid who really liked her, but she wasn't
that interested.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
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</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I came onto the 700,000 acre Tetlin
National Wildlife Refuge but the Visitor Center was closed. It had a sod
roof and a spacious deck overlooking marshy open habitat. The infamous
Alaskan mosquitoes were hanging in the air waiting for me and I had
miles to go....so didn't even think about hiking or checking out any
of the backcountry of this refuge.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
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</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I don't know why I didn't get tired as
I usually do after driving for 10 hours, but I felt mellow. I ate junk food (a bag of wedge-shaped orange slices and salt and
vinegar potato skins), which normally would make me tired or bloated
in addition to regretting my lack of discipline an hour after consumption but even that
didn't happen. I was in the groove.....</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
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</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-GRYmQwF7fB4/V00zENqSgpI/AAAAAAAADCY/8fYydrIfC3oGrjtU7agxgaEu1G8tvIxNQCK4B/s1600/IMG_4780.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-GRYmQwF7fB4/V00zENqSgpI/AAAAAAAADCY/8fYydrIfC3oGrjtU7agxgaEu1G8tvIxNQCK4B/s400/IMG_4780.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Along the Alaska Highway</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Fairbanks was a wild place in the early
days of the oil pipeline, and my motel was across the street from a
forlorn, now deserted, faded red building with “SHOW GIRLS”
painted on the front. The book I “borrowed” from the motel in
Williston talked about the Fairbanks of that era with “hookers on
every street corner and guys with money falling out of their
pockets.” The motel was a bit shabby and the curse of night noise
continued to plague me with a very loud refrigerator. I unplugged
that and kept looking at the clock and then outside. At 11 p.m., it
was still very light. It's like the onset of evening is prolonged, as though the sun just stops a few hours.
</div>
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barbarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02350809231161780641noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7692450307030028427.post-89001930903899404852016-05-29T00:01:00.000-07:002016-05-29T00:01:00.677-07:00Destination Circle: Day 13May 26, 2016<br />
<br />
Jeepers! I forgot the highlight of yesterday. For a couple of hours, we saw humpback whales south of Juneau. In the distance, someone would spot a "blow" and then we would soon see a whale's rounded back or one would waggle a long flipper or show its tail. Once, quite near, a whale breached...truly a thrill. Porpoises in small groups were also rapidly moving through the ocean close to the ship.<br />
<br />
Only a dozen passengers were left by the time we got to Skagway early this morning. Three other cruise ships were berthed here, the most amazing being the Disney Wonder, a sister ship to the Disney Magic. It was incongruous to see this glamour and ostentation in the harbor of a small Alaskan town, towering OVER the town, at the end of its main street. It was the Donald Trump of cruise ships.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><b>en.wikipedia.org</b>:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">"Both ships have <span style="color: #252525; font-size: 14px;">11 public decks, can accommodate 2,400 passengers in 875 </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cabin_(ship)" style="background-image: none; color: #0b0080; font-size: 14px; text-decoration: none;" title="Cabin (ship)">staterooms</a><span style="color: #252525; font-size: 14px;">, and have a crew of approximately 950.</span><span style="color: #252525; font-size: 14px;"> </span><i style="color: #252525; font-size: 14px;">Disney Wonder</i><span style="color: #252525; font-size: 14px;"> </span><span style="color: #252525; font-size: 14px;">was built in the year following completion of</span><span style="color: #252525; font-size: 14px;"> </span><i style="color: #252525; font-size: 14px;">Disney Magic</i><span style="color: #252525; font-size: 14px;">. As of 2015,</span><span style="color: #252525; font-size: 14px;"> </span><i style="color: #252525; font-size: 14px;">Disney Wonder</i><span style="color: #252525; font-size: 14px;"> </span><span style="color: #252525; font-size: 14px;">sails various North American itineraries on a seasonal basis.</span></span><br />
<div style="color: #252525; font-size: 14px; line-height: inherit; margin-bottom: 0.5em; margin-top: 0.5em;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><i>Disney Wonder</i><span class="nowrap" style="padding-left: 0.1em; white-space: nowrap;">'</span>s Captain is Captain Fabian Dib and her <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ship_sponsor" style="background-image: none; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; color: #0b0080; text-decoration: none;" title="Ship sponsor">"godmother"</a> is <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tinker_Bell" style="background-image: none; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; color: #0b0080; text-decoration: none;" title="Tinker Bell">Tinker Bell</a>."</span></div>
<div style="color: #252525; font-size: 14px; line-height: inherit; margin-bottom: 0.5em; margin-top: 0.5em;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><br /></span></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-7DZqXfsCcaI/V0qGc9V7d0I/AAAAAAAADBA/-A1glEqva6Ma6kSzFP8_VQHeKyVmoGgIQCK4B/s1600/IMG_0323.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-7DZqXfsCcaI/V0qGc9V7d0I/AAAAAAAADBA/-A1glEqva6Ma6kSzFP8_VQHeKyVmoGgIQCK4B/s400/IMG_0323.jpg" width="323" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Skagway</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KG5N0gpYL5k/V0qGiv3OkbI/AAAAAAAADBI/zc5CzRnFqbUJdY8wZ2YmjHh3FvZAoVWcwCK4B/s1600/IMG_4758.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KG5N0gpYL5k/V0qGiv3OkbI/AAAAAAAADBI/zc5CzRnFqbUJdY8wZ2YmjHh3FvZAoVWcwCK4B/s400/IMG_4758.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bald Eagles near Dyea / Skagway </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="color: #252525;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Skagway obviously has defined itself as a tourist destination with dozens (probably a hundred) shops and businesses lining the wooden sidewalks. They all have tasteful signs and many have expensive wares; there are small restaurants, aromatherapy stores, massage and yoga studios, art galleries and stores with the expected tackier tourist stuff but toned-down in presentation...all mingled with the necessary commerce that towns need. What I needed was a good cup of coffee. The air was fresh and cool but not cold. It was early and peaceful on Main Street with few people. While I waited in line in the coffee house, another customer with a very loud voice told me (and all the other clientele) about winning the lottery the only time he was ever in Michigan...like $750. Overhearing this, another guy asked me if I knew about Stony Lake. He had </span></span><span style="color: #252525;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">been a counselor at a camp there once. He talked quietly and called me Ma'am and told me to go to Dyea (Die-ee) which he spelled for me. "It's our sister town," he said and gave me directions. He was the typical recreational outdoorsy type one sees everywhere in the west where there are mountains or rivers or rocks to climb. So I went to Dyea. It was only a 16-mile detour off my road out of town. And I saw a life bird! an Arctic Tern. There is, of course, much attention given to gold rush era all through here. The Chilkoot Trail, which was the beginning of route to the Yukon gold fields in the late 1890s, starts in Dyea. The hopeful miners were headed to the Klondike river in Yukon Territory over the mountains to the north.</span></span></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-7_SMseh5ja0/V0qG9HvaBOI/AAAAAAAADBc/LhB8laa_yb8j719yQg7rCCGk0YfBG2qGwCK4B/s1600/IMG_0340.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="273" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-7_SMseh5ja0/V0qG9HvaBOI/AAAAAAAADBc/LhB8laa_yb8j719yQg7rCCGk0YfBG2qGwCK4B/s400/IMG_0340.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Grizzly on the road to Carcross</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="color: #252525;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I spent the day moving in that direction, back into Canada, first through British Columbia and then into Yukon Territory. Within 10 minutes of passing through customs, a van ahead of me was stopped half on and half off the road. A young grizzly was foraging out in the open and very close. I carefully pulled off and watched it walk right past my car, a beautiful creature, its beauty and slow graceful movement a counterpoint to its potential ability to maul me to a bloody mess in seconds. I love reading bear attack stories which always, always describe how powerful and quick and ferocious bears can be. But this one had no bad intentions and ambled across the road just in front of a car coming around the curve, which fortunately saw it and slowed. </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #252525; font-family: inherit;">I stopped in Carcross, BC, for a gas station lunch and coffee and thought about looking for the Polly's grave in the cemetery here. Someone on the ship had told me about this parrot of the Klondike era, how it got famous and finally died in 1972 reportedly having lived for 125 years, and how it was an awful bird known for "biting, drinking and swearing." But Carcross seemed especially dismal and charmless and I needed to get to Whitehorse and a good night's sleep. Actually, I forgot about Polly until I was well past the town. </span></div>
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<span style="color: #252525; font-family: inherit;">The scenery was again stunning, and even though the elevation of the route is not particularly high, it SEEMED high, with snow on the peaks and stunted, tundra-like flora. </span></div>
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<span style="color: #252525;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I love traveling where I've never been before. It all usually works out without too much planning ahead, and there are surprises. I thought, for instance, that Carcross would be at least a town of note, but it has a population of less than 300, so it's barely a village. I thought Whitehorse would be a small rough-around-the-edges western town, but it was bustling and much larger than I thought, sort of like a Missoula or a Traverse City. It was raining hard when I arrived. I sat in my car, sorting things out, knowing the rain would soon stop as the sky was blue in the west. It eventually did, and I checked into a Best Western. I get Priceline deals that make motels an easy rationalization And the current Best Western promotion is a $50 credit after two stays. </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #252525;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">A White-crowned Sparrow was singing loudly from a tree top in the parking lot, but I surely have not seen many birds on this trip. </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #252525;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I had pork and veggie spring rolls in the hotel restaurant (a noisy sports bar) where most patrons were watching the Stanley Cup playoffs, even though Canada is no longer a contender. I watched a table near me: a girl and five guys. One guy looked a bit nerdy and was wearing a white shirt and tie; the other guys were typical 20-somethings bantering and decompressing after working in the office all day. The chick had thick blond braids loosely tied behind her head, beautiful skin, large glasses with pinkish plastic rims, a small piercing in her philtrum, tattoos from her elbows up which disappeared into her short-sleeved blouse; no makeup, talkative and flirty but not obnoxious...kind of like a Heidi who grew up and moved to the city. </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #252525;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">My room was a favorite location in motels: the second floor looking west. But I could easily hear the distracting TV </span></span><span style="color: #252525; font-family: inherit;">next door. After an hour, I called the desk and the desk guy said it was the band downstairs and I said it wasn't. He offered to investigate but almost at that moment, the noise stopped, mostly for good. </span><br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-n7NnSUwzhXA/V0qITPwsaxI/AAAAAAAADB4/oRt06qmw2CE6N--G4WFf6JB00-6FYBW9ACK4B/s1600/IMG_0345.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-n7NnSUwzhXA/V0qITPwsaxI/AAAAAAAADB4/oRt06qmw2CE6N--G4WFf6JB00-6FYBW9ACK4B/s400/IMG_0345.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">an amazing greenish color in a lake south of Whitehorse</td></tr>
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<br />barbarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02350809231161780641noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7692450307030028427.post-23602009129610762072016-05-27T09:14:00.004-07:002016-05-27T09:14:55.436-07:00Destination Circle: Day 12<br />
May 25, 2016<br />
<br />
Woke up on the water....traveling is seductive, isn't it? with all the memories one accumulates. Faith, you must have millions. Are your trips still clearly and easily recalled? all the wonderful and unexpected details and situations and people and geographies?<br />
<br />
I had no idea what time it was or what time zone I was actually in. The clock in the cafeteria said 10:40, but no one was up and about. Folks were huddled in sleeping bags or under blankets on couches. I found coffee and an employee offered to get me an actual coffee cup and told me the "waxed" cups on the counter weren't good for hot drinks, etc, etc. He was a young Native; other than the employees, almost every person was Caucasian. Many were middle-aged to older couples speaking French or German (interestingly, no Japanese on board); some were slightly loose and disheveled (but in the backpacker way, not the biker way) and were usually on the open deck; and increasing numbers of young mothers with very noisy kids and babies came aboard as we moved north. It was 5:50 a.m. I figured out as I sat in the front, watching for birds and reading and drinking coffee. Perfect....<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JKor5NJg3mc/V0hszak1I7I/AAAAAAAADAk/ZNfeIQeAk505oREme84C63uJEwOnzFi7QCK4B/s1600/IMG_4705.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="285" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JKor5NJg3mc/V0hszak1I7I/AAAAAAAADAk/ZNfeIQeAk505oREme84C63uJEwOnzFi7QCK4B/s400/IMG_4705.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Seals taking their leisure where they can</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
The ocean was calmer now that we were definitely on the INLAND waterway, calm but mostly overcast with intermittent rain all day. I saw a life bird: a Pacific Loon, similar to the Common but which has a pearly grey head and neck. Gulls and Pigeon Guillemots were numerous along with other species flying swiftly over the water that I couldn't ID.<br />
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I read most of the day, a book of essays by Peter Hessler. He had at one time been in the Peace Corps in China and then stayed as a journalist, and much of his writing is about that country. It was quiet and civil. There were no TV or radios or any digital stuff happening, except for cameras. Many of the men had binoculars but weren't birders, and nearly everyone took photos. We stopped at Ketchikan, Wrangell, Petersburg, Juneau, Haines and finally Skagway the next morning. Each stop was prolonged as the captain had to do no damage to his ship or the docks and moved cautiously. The harbors had small to medium-sized fishing boats; the homes rose on slight hills. These villages are isolated collections of humans in a world of water and trees and wilderness. Much of the route is actually through the Tongrass National Forest. One cannot drive to Ketchikan or Juneau - it's either boat or plane, and I wondered about health care and medical emergencies, the schools, the kids growing up, the social hierarchies, the economies. Two Alaskan guys were gabbing, and the subject arose of moving Alaska's capital (now Juneau) to a more accessible city. The more voluble, opinionated one said that this wouldn't happen as the politicians like that their constituents "couldn't get to them easily."<br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-kqMmHSvpUhI/V0hsyQCb0fI/AAAAAAAADAc/Gh1MyKTpHqE1dJ-exjY3t9UVOJxOJp0egCK4B/s1600/IMG_0295.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-kqMmHSvpUhI/V0hsyQCb0fI/AAAAAAAADAc/Gh1MyKTpHqE1dJ-exjY3t9UVOJxOJp0egCK4B/s400/IMG_0295.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Table top in the cafeteria on the Matanuska</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Four of the tabletops in the spacious cafeteria were works of art, commissioned by various government agencies. Birds, animals, sea fauna and shells each had a separate table. Really, they were beautiful, accurate and informative, as good as any nature guide.<br />
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I moved from side to side, from window seat to window seat depending on the direction of the rain. I went to the open deck and read there and spent time outside watching as the captain moved through a long narrows aided by red and green navigational buoys. It was a nice bit of seafaring.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-T4jvMss3BoI/V0hwztOGC2I/AAAAAAAADAw/1qLHMQNrD7se3DQm3vYCLrmkmrsjy71jwCK4B/s1600/IMG_4677.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-T4jvMss3BoI/V0hwztOGC2I/AAAAAAAADAw/1qLHMQNrD7se3DQm3vYCLrmkmrsjy71jwCK4B/s400/IMG_4677.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">through a narrow strait on the Matanuska</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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If I ever do this route again, I would sleep out on the deck in a sleeping bag or on a couch inside. The rattling in my cabin was not dulled by Dramamine the second night and was significant. I saw where previous occupants had shoved pieces of cardboard between the metal joint of the bunk above, and I added another six pieces with no improvement. I slept fitfully for four hours.<br />
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<br />barbarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02350809231161780641noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7692450307030028427.post-8066568142954165612016-05-26T22:38:00.001-07:002016-05-26T22:38:42.741-07:00Destination Circle: Day 11<br />
May 24, 2016<div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I saw a Safeway yesterday that had a
Starbucks, so I headed there after checking out. I had to be at the ferry
dock at 2:30 p.m. I bought fruit and a few other things to eat on
the ship, sorted out my car and packed stuff I would need since I wouldn't have access to my car and would be on the boat for two
nights. I then went to the Museum of Northern British Columbia which was right across the street from the grocery store. Small but informative and nicely done as many museums are. </div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I headed for the ferry. I was early and figured I would read in my car but then noticed my tire pressure warning light was on. F____! I have a tire
gauge, checked the tires and one was
low. I used Gas Buddy to find the nearest gas station, tried to put
air in, kept getting inconsistent readings, put more air in, nothing
improved, googled “how to put air in a tire” which explained
exactly what I was doing and which wasn't working but also suggested going to a
tire shop and have them do it. I googled "tire shop," found one right
across the street from the hostel, went there and they checked the offending tire and put air in at no charge. Of course, I worried that there was a REASON the tire is losing
air, but at least for the next four hours, no warning light came on.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Several vehicles were already in
line at the Alaska Marine Highway terminal. They measured the length of my
car. I went in and got a boarding pass, showed my passport and got a form to fill out for customs as once I got on the boat, I would be back in the US...sort of. </div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Various middle-aged men came and talked
to me. One, whose wife had passed away recently was returing
to Juneau (where he had lived for 62 years) to see if he wanted to go
back since he and his wife had moved to Tennessee before she died. He
was driving a huge motor home Another guy was from Minnesota, traveling alone and we talked routes and highways. Another one had
built a hot rod truck which I had noticed as it was nosiy and bright
orange and was towing a travel trailer. He was carrying a small poodle. He had written a book (<u>So
You Want to Build a Hot Rod)</u> and was planning to write the last
chapter on this trip. He also told me how desparately his wife wants to dress in her elf gear (“She just LOVES Christmas!”) and get
photos taken at North Pole, Alaska. HE wants to be above the Arctic
Circle in "Coldfoot on June 21" to see the sun circle (motioning with his hands)
the sky at the solstice. We also talked routes and travel. There were
many large RVs, some pickup trucks hauling trailers, vans and one
small bright green sedan with a bright green canoe on top.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
A found a $20 Canadian bill under my car. The bills are weird-feeling, like plastic with a transparent section. Their one dollar is a coin with a loon on it and is called a loonie. </div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
A guy came by asking about fruit, and
since the apples and oranges I had just bought were not from the US
or Canada, they were not allowed. He said they would be donated
to the local food bank. I had a HAZ sticker for my bear spray but no
one seemed concerned about that.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Me and one other car were last to load
as we are going to Skagway, the end of the line. My destination for the ferry was either
Skagway or Haines, and Dave and Ellen said they were an hour
apart and wouldn't matter much for my plan.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Zd79nPiD3QY/V0fX9M_PlPI/AAAAAAAAC_w/lENoi0nzbGYEJWLjUeflUlwohmEpPkWOwCK4B/s1600/IMG_4611.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Zd79nPiD3QY/V0fX9M_PlPI/AAAAAAAAC_w/lENoi0nzbGYEJWLjUeflUlwohmEpPkWOwCK4B/s400/IMG_4611.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">a Cosco container ship...much more impressive than this photo shows</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
A huge Cosco container ship was parked near us, and gigantic cranes were loading and arranging shipping containers, hundreds of them. And a train was bringing more. </div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QEeYa0NATMY/V0fYKRMOALI/AAAAAAAADAA/IQGwKuUs8JcRK83B7wqp7LYxSUYVBsTAQCK4B/s1600/IMG_4635.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QEeYa0NATMY/V0fYKRMOALI/AAAAAAAADAA/IQGwKuUs8JcRK83B7wqp7LYxSUYVBsTAQCK4B/s400/IMG_4635.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Inland waterway along the BC coast</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
After an interminable wait, we finally
left. The sky had cleared, and it was exciting to be moving. I got a
stateroom on the outside for a reasonable rate. Some people put up
tents or hammocks on the open deck; many sleep inside as there are
several lounges and the ferry is not yet crowded this time of year.
There is also an open air but covered solarium with heat lamps, so we had several options for moving about. The ship was the MV Matanuska, an
older vessel in the AMH system.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
After a couple of hours, I took a
preemptive Dramamine because I live in utter terror of being the least bit
queasy, and we were rolling some as the wind was up. We started this trip in more open water before getting behind the coastal islands. I didn't really feel nauseated but was neurotically nervous about the possibility. </div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
So I then fell asleep with my clothes on until we reached Ketchikan where it seemed we dawdled for hours.
It was 00:16 when I woke up, got on pajamas, ate 15 craquelins with cranberries, read until I got drowsy again and slept OK, barely tolerating the loud rattle above my head that sounded exactly like
rain on a tin roof except it waxed and waned with the boat motion – loud,
softer, loud, softer – every 10 seconds. </div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/--qpPu8pZ5cs/V0fYJywxbSI/AAAAAAAAC_4/tUoiYAeAKV49g8T-2NMMPfCxTY7rA9UKACK4B/s1600/IMG_4625.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/--qpPu8pZ5cs/V0fYJywxbSI/AAAAAAAAC_4/tUoiYAeAKV49g8T-2NMMPfCxTY7rA9UKACK4B/s400/IMG_4625.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px; text-align: center;">the MV Matanuska </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
barbarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02350809231161780641noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7692450307030028427.post-19777214960483097592016-05-26T21:52:00.004-07:002016-05-26T21:53:32.595-07:00Destination Circle: Day 10May 23, 2016<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/--XCbsUV1tRI/V0fIlxptZkI/AAAAAAAAC_M/gIVtlnSzNcksifm267UU9DUS4btvovygwCK4B/s1600/IMG_0194.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/--XCbsUV1tRI/V0fIlxptZkI/AAAAAAAAC_M/gIVtlnSzNcksifm267UU9DUS4btvovygwCK4B/s400/IMG_0194.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">West of Smithers BC</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
The drive from Smithers was one more
spectacle of snow-covered mountains in brilliant sunlight. It is a
national holiday in Canada and traffic was sparse. I stopped for
breakfast at Kitwanga where the Cassiar highway goes north to Alaska,
one of two options for driving to Alaska from the US, the other
being the ALCAN, also known as the Alaska Highway.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I stopped for a late breakfast in a
busy road house / gas station / restaurant, definitely an edgier venue than the
relatively sedate places I've stopped to date. A rangy tall guy was
waiting outside with his backpack and belongings, probably hitching,
one foot against the wall. A couple of Harley dudes with bandanas
were messing with their cycles. The restaurant clientele was mostly
First Nation, as was my waitress. I just made the breakfast cut-off
time of 11:00 and had the best bacon I've ever had in my life.
Service was slow which is fine with me. I always have a book to read and like the lingering after driving, driving, driving. I always feel a need
to be especially respectful of Native American or First Nation people - historic guilt I guess. I don't
want them to defer to me and would like their respect in turn.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I love hearing the lilt in their voices as they chatter free and at ease amongst themselves. What do they really think of us?</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I saw the first billboard warning girls
about hitchhiking along the route I was taking, with photos of three murdered girls. It was called Trail of Sorrow or Trail of
Terror...something like that. I saw a couple more signs along the way as I drove west. "Killer on the Loose" said one.....Jeez. </div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-aJqTyR7OWBc/V0fJN7qqxiI/AAAAAAAAC_Y/syMY1VTckAg6010QZQB9R5H62naGJdZRgCK4B/s1600/IMG_0211.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-aJqTyR7OWBc/V0fJN7qqxiI/AAAAAAAAC_Y/syMY1VTckAg6010QZQB9R5H62naGJdZRgCK4B/s400/IMG_0211.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Port Rupert, BC</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
The way west was entirely along the Skeena
River all the way to Prince Rupert with more mountains, intermittent waterfalls and no gas for 100 miles. Nor did I see
wildlife, roadkill or even many birds. As I got closer to Prince Rupert, the traffic increased however, and folks were fishing the river. The Canadian
Pacific Trunk Railway runs through this valley also. As I neared the coast, the sunshine slowly turned to mist and drizzle and gloomy grey skies. </div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-kzF3C1Fp8-c/V0fJUsq7ooI/AAAAAAAAC_g/tW38OAJlE2gCOVNfHnYGqLC6QeS6yV5KwCK4B/s1600/IMG_0247.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-kzF3C1Fp8-c/V0fJUsq7ooI/AAAAAAAAC_g/tW38OAJlE2gCOVNfHnYGqLC6QeS6yV5KwCK4B/s400/IMG_0247.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The hostel in Port Rupert.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
So, where to stay? Not in a tent in the
drizzly cold; not in my car as it was way too early in the day....(the
slightest excuse for not camping is sufficient). I spent 30 minutes researching
options and picked a “guest house” which turned to to be a backpacker / hostel. I walked in and no one was around except
a gentleman with a French accent working at a table in the dining
area on a computer. He thought perhaps someone was upstairs, so I
went up two flights, calling out “Hello? Hello?” and finally a
young girl came out of a room she had been cleaning and checked me
in. The place smelled like Eunice's house...that good herbal, veggie, spicy scent. There was a front room with couches and books, a communal
kitchen and dining area and various sleeping rooms, either with
private baths or shared. I got one with a private bath. It was
spartan but clean with great bedding.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I was feeling a teeny bit queasy so
decided to walk about in the fresh air, passed a couple of waterfront
restaurants / pubs, wasn't tempted, so went to a grocery store and got
gingerale, goat cheese and rice crackers which totally sufficed for dinner. Ravens were making weird loud croaking noises from on the top of a nearby building.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
When I got back, I intended to read in the
living room on one of the two couches. There was a woman on the other
who was waiting for a taxi to take her to the ferry (which is why I
also am in Prince Rupert, although I won't leave until tomorrow
afternoon). She was going to Queen Charlotte Island – an overnight ferry ride – and will spend two weeks there. She was (I guessed) in
her 50s or 60s, was born in Switzerland, now lives in Canada, has
raised a family and was doing this on her own. We talked a lot about
women traveling by themselves. She told me how she and her family had had a grand RV trip planned just before 9/11. They considered cancelling
but decided to go anyway – across Canada, down into Maine and
across the US, including the Grand Canyon where they benefitted from
the fear following 9/11. Since there were so many cancellations, she and her family were able to hike in the canyon and stay in the park. We didn't get
into her situation, but she was doing this current trip on her own. She had also gone to Costa Rica by herself for several weeks recently. We
never even exchanged names but had a pleasant chat. Her taxi came; she picked up all her gear
and off she went to explore this place where indigenous Haida live. Queen Charlotte is largely rain forest habitat off the coast of British Columbia.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
It's funny: when people ask me where I
live, and I say Michigan, there are folks who can barely place the
state in the US....like they are not sure if it is in the Midwest, or
the east, or exactly where it is, especially those from the western
Canadian provinces. But then, how many Americans can correctly locate the Canadian provinces on a map...</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
After she left, I was reading and a young blond girl (who had replaced the girl who checked me in) was
doing laundry and folding towels and sheets in the living room. After 9 p.m., no one
would be on the premises I was told, but if there were problems, I could call a number and wait at the “front door” and
someone would come. There was also a yarn shop off the living room. Both businesses have been for sale for
two years but the owner wants a lot of money
and isn't pressured to sell unless she gets the right price.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Two guys came in
speaking French. One turned on the TV but on mute. I told him I
wouldn't mind, he could listen, but he shrugged and said he just
wanted to get the score. There is some big sport tournament happening
in Canada, as last night at least two people came into the place I
was eating and immediately asked the waitress what the score was. Hockey?
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I left him the living room, went to
bed and was reading when there was a persistent knock at my door. It was a young Asian girl who had just arrived and who wondered if I was in the "women's dormitory? and what type of room exactly had I signed up for?" I told her the guys were upstairs, and we agreed she should just take one of the rooms downstairs and figure it out in the morning. </div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
After that I soon fell asleep and had the second wonderful night of sleep so far on this trip.
I am wondering if eating light later in the day makes for sounder
sleep? </div>
barbarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02350809231161780641noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7692450307030028427.post-83609531028636882272016-05-24T08:39:00.002-07:002016-05-26T22:41:59.763-07:00Destination Circle: Day 9May 22, 2016<br />
<br />
The rain was coming down with no mercy when I woke up and the temperature was in the 40s. It was Sunday, and there was only one table left in the restaurant where I lingered over eggs, bacon and coffee. Wait staff use clever hand-held gadgets for payment at one's table. I've only seen them in Canada although perhaps they are not that new elsewhere....just not in the US where I have travelled. A credit / debit card is inserted and one is prompted through the process. It handles chips, prints a receipt and gives tip options, with ease and efficiency.<br />
<br />
As soon as I started driving west, I entered another area with no gas for 100 miles. This has been quite common in Canada which speaks to the lack of commerce and abundance of nature. Eventually the rain stopped and the day cleared to sunshine and blue skies, mountains and deep forests showing many shades of green as various deciduous trees are leaving out. The scent of evergreens fills the air and always smooths the ragged edges of my inner dialogue. The trees are gigantic.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-X7Tu9W4rMcU/V0RxrS8JWiI/AAAAAAAAC-k/bLiUzIE5icAT-J6LDlQWZs78l5z-RAJ5gCK4B/s1600/IMG_4578.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-X7Tu9W4rMcU/V0RxrS8JWiI/AAAAAAAAC-k/bLiUzIE5icAT-J6LDlQWZs78l5z-RAJ5gCK4B/s320/IMG_4578.jpg" width="236" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">along Canada highway 16 West</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3X2i9EmfjJM/V0RyNGp5AeI/AAAAAAAAC-s/3HGNyQBbsqosdhLVMoqo1OhTiEC7YEDtwCK4B/s1600/IMG_4581.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="288" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3X2i9EmfjJM/V0RyNGp5AeI/AAAAAAAAC-s/3HGNyQBbsqosdhLVMoqo1OhTiEC7YEDtwCK4B/s400/IMG_4581.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Black bear </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Early in the day and just after seeing a sign warning of moose collisions, I saw a moose. How cool is that? chocolate-colored, large and standing in the drizzle on the green grassy verge. And a bit later, I rounded a curve and saw a black bear, probably a cub, in the open at the edge of the forest. It scuttled just into the tree line and then stopped and checked out what I was going to do, which was (of course) try for a photo.<br />
<br />
Traffic was light and I got used to the metric system, staying close to the posted speed limits although most other drivers didn't. Not once have I seen provincial police patrolling the roads.<br />
<br />
I have been listening to the CBC (Canada's NPR) and am impressed with the content and the way guests are allowed to talk at length without interruption by the hosts. The pace is slower, not so frenetic, more measured, and people are given time to express their views. And, I have heard very little about Trump; no hyperventilating commentators saying one more time how unstable, unsuitable and ill-informed Trump is or expressing feeble outrage over his latest declarations.<br />
<br />
I heard a fascinating interview with Jay Parini, a professor at Middlebury Colllege in Vermont who wrote about his long friendship with Gore Vidal, a book titled <u>The Empire of Self</u>.<br />
<br />
I arrived in Smithers, BC, late afternoon, checked into a motel, asked for a room change, was granted that and now looked at the mountains to the west. I walked around the area chasing a bird and failed to find it since it was singing in the trees behind a gate to "Private Property."<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-VHKc09yOx74/V0RzwHnc8TI/AAAAAAAAC-8/dnyk_Kx5pk0mbU_2UWnq5xP6WEaaVZLvACK4B/s1600/IMG_4582.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="248" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-VHKc09yOx74/V0RzwHnc8TI/AAAAAAAAC-8/dnyk_Kx5pk0mbU_2UWnq5xP6WEaaVZLvACK4B/s400/IMG_4582.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">between McBride and Smithers, BC</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />barbarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02350809231161780641noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7692450307030028427.post-9405514873701502682016-05-23T08:54:00.000-07:002016-05-23T08:54:08.888-07:00Destination Circle: Day 8May 21, 2016<br />
<br />
I woke before 6 a.m. as I was now in the Pacific Time Zone. The mountains were totally obscured by clouds, except for a brief momentary glimpse while I was in the dining room. One's senses seem almost physically assaulted by the proximity of these wild and rugged peaks.<br />
<br />
The most tasty item at breakfast was toast with orange marmalade which came in a little hexagonal, 1-1/2-inch tall, unlabelled, glass container. Daffodils were blooming in the cool air outside the window. I coveted the silverware which was heavy and Scandinavian in design.<br />
<br />
After eating, I sat by the fireplace and worked on my computer for an hour before leaving. By the time I got to the "village," a couple of miles down the mountain, the clouds were starting to clear. People were bustling about as buying stuff on vacation is the most attractive option for many. I got gas and then found myself in a bookstore. Fortunately, Boo called and I left to talk to her outside and so didn't buy MORE BOOKS. But I did find a couple of toys for Tesla and Joey and a fancy holographic postcard of a moose for $5. I've been sending them a postcard each day and walked to the post office for stamps, all of which, regardless of whether one is sending a normal postcard, a fancy large postcard or a letter, were $1.20 Canadian. "Makes it easy, eh?" the pleasant female postal worker said.<br />
<br />
I left Lake Louise and drove north for hours. I had to buy a day park pass and got to use my Canadian money which I've been carrying around in my car in an Altoid container for years. I wasn't sure what the larger coins were, and one of the two young ladies in the booth said "Oh, that's a two-ey" meaning $2.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-n1aot47Mg7o/V0Mg0Nxp4SI/AAAAAAAAC9w/ZAVINCqawlAyIgpw-IMA-Z-imvm6e_u9gCK4B/s1600/IMG_4521.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-n1aot47Mg7o/V0Mg0Nxp4SI/AAAAAAAAC9w/ZAVINCqawlAyIgpw-IMA-Z-imvm6e_u9gCK4B/s400/IMG_4521.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">between Lake Louise and Jaspar - Alberta</td></tr>
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The route for the next several hours was one of the most scenic I've ever been on, the Canadian Rockies to the left, the Bow River on the right. The sun was now out, the skies a clear blue, the traffic light. I saw a honey-colored grizzly, so distinctive with its slight mid-body depression between front and rear humps. It was in a shrubby meadow, and a ranger was already on scene managing the "bear jam," politely asking the RV behind me to move further off the road and also making certain no one did anything foolish. I only saw it briefly before it lay down but was thrilled. You don't see this from an airplane.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-JpgUWtUgYBc/V0Mhh9D__eI/AAAAAAAAC94/HRZQLgtpZ-U_HrhPlY2zeJZ4rBHZm1CdQCK4B/s1600/IMG_4527.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-JpgUWtUgYBc/V0Mhh9D__eI/AAAAAAAAC94/HRZQLgtpZ-U_HrhPlY2zeJZ4rBHZm1CdQCK4B/s400/IMG_4527.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Add caption</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-e3j8_lVKJkQ/V0Mi78oK_NI/AAAAAAAAC-I/fj8DEwCCCMorl-IdsmqgOnHkxSDrxVT_wCK4B/s1600/IMG_0165.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-e3j8_lVKJkQ/V0Mi78oK_NI/AAAAAAAAC-I/fj8DEwCCCMorl-IdsmqgOnHkxSDrxVT_wCK4B/s400/IMG_0165.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">and the trees!</td></tr>
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Of course I stopped often to try to photograph the wonder, me and the dozen or so other people at any vantage point. Today, many of were East Indian families with joyous boisterous kids. This is a holiday weekend in Canada, Monday being Victoria Day. The advent of cell phones for photos is quite remarkable. I am not exempt and found that pictures with the phone were as good as or better than those taken with my Canon. Still, it's kind of crazy, all of us holding up these little gadgets instead of gazing with our eyes. At one point, there were ice fields and this WAS a congested tourist spot with special buses transporting people onto the glacier, or one could just walk a trail to the "toe." But other than that, on this route, there were only signs for hiking, tucked away campgrounds and occasional pull-offs, usually by a lake.<br />
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At Jaspar I turned directly west and drove a couple of hours through the mountains to the small town of McBride where I spent the night in a Sandman motel. I learned Sandman is a chain and was impressed even though the gentleman at the desk had to get someone else to figure out how to deal with a Priceline reservation. I showed him my cell phone confirmation information which he then wrote down. From the outside, it looked like the hundreds of older motels in the US that are not corporate and which almost never are updated. I got two heavy actual metal keys. The room had windows that opened, glass glasses, comfortable new bedding and a restaurant downstairs.<br />
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My camping plans / intentions so far haven't happened. I'm still hoping though....<br />
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<b>Beautiful British Columbia</b> on the license plates is not hyperbole.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-mAkd8GuGySE/V0Mlh23mMLI/AAAAAAAAC-U/2At2YvELzKcG13dquW9R5oBjbXK98lPEwCK4B/s1600/IMG_0188.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="275" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-mAkd8GuGySE/V0Mlh23mMLI/AAAAAAAAC-U/2At2YvELzKcG13dquW9R5oBjbXK98lPEwCK4B/s400/IMG_0188.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">McBride, BC</td></tr>
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<br />barbarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02350809231161780641noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7692450307030028427.post-81215446557308340812016-05-22T08:25:00.002-07:002016-05-22T08:25:48.275-07:00Destination Circle: Day 7May 20, 2016<br />
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It was overcast and chilly when I left the motel and I had to go find Andy at the Verizon store. I needed more advice on traveling in Canada and how to put data usage controls on Virginia's cell phone. Plus, I had other Verizon-related issues.<br />
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As he promised, he was in the store on Main Street. He said that usually only one woman works there and she never has a break and the store is open all day, six days a week. Andy said that she told him it would be easy as she sometimes has only three customers all day, but he already had had five and it was early in the day. I could tell he was a bit apprehensive about his ability to handle this demand, but he got my issues figured out and I was good to go.<br />
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Off to Sweetgrass, the US port of entry, 45 minutes north of Shelby. This is a 24-hour post; many of the Montana POEs are only open in the daytime. I waited about 20 minutes and went on through. One of the questions though was about pepper spray. I do have some which I bought when I lived in Montana many years ago and carry it with me but suspect it is outdated and probably ineffective. The customs agent said that was OK and that the little purse size sprays are what they are concerned about. After I went on through, I remembered that Esther had given me the smaller size for my year of roaming about, which was probably somewhere in my car.....oh well.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HGQ_7IEimSk/V0HKzRwolBI/AAAAAAAAC9A/aTXqcbe-eX0cXAdXBxPffxQfQ1ivAkzewCK4B/s1600/IMG_4457.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HGQ_7IEimSk/V0HKzRwolBI/AAAAAAAAC9A/aTXqcbe-eX0cXAdXBxPffxQfQ1ivAkzewCK4B/s400/IMG_4457.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lake Louise</td></tr>
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I went north to Calgary (getting turning around in heavy traffic and going through one area three times as I kept missing my turn) and then west to Banff National Park and on to Lake Louise where I stayed the night. Again, because it was early in the season, I got a reasonable deal for the night at Deer Lodge, an older wooden structure. Of the two options for staying right at the lake itself, the not so reasonable rate at the grand Fairmont Chateau Lake Louise was several hundred dollars per night.<br />
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The Deer Lodge had a bar/lounge, a fine dining restaurant, a game room, little rooms tucked away for reading or computing, a great room with a piano and a nice cosy fire in the fireplace, huge windows and comfortable couches and chairs. There was an option for hikers or day-trippers to shower on the main floor and an open-air patio for clement weather and dining al fresco. My room was tucked under the eaves on the third floor; no elevator. I felt a bit like Heidi as the mountains were very close. This is a stunningly beautiful area...the whole length of the Rockies in Canada...with several hundred miles of good road traversing the east side and minimal commerce. In the lower section, there are overpasses for wildlife with fencing for miles on both sides of the highway in an effort to facilitate safe crossings for the animals.<br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #336633; font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><b>www.pc.gc.ca</b></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #336633; font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">Do highway fencing and wildlife crossing structures work and do they reduce wildlife-vehicle collisions?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">"It took up to five years for some wary species, like grizzly bears, to start using wildlife crossing structures; however, most species are now using them to safely cross the Trans-Canada Highway (TCH). Since fencing and crossing structures were first constructed, wildlife-vehicle collisions have dropped by more than 80%."</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-HZq0vQBgpog/V0HLCqti4zI/AAAAAAAAC9I/xbuHOUShlEwzBLSRzP0X3XNqOmFmlHpmgCK4B/s1600/IMG_4484.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-HZq0vQBgpog/V0HLCqti4zI/AAAAAAAAC9I/xbuHOUShlEwzBLSRzP0X3XNqOmFmlHpmgCK4B/s400/IMG_4484.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lake Louise, Banff National Park - Alberta</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">After checking in, I walked a trail along Lake Louise to the head of the lake. The scent in the air was that wonderful north woods piney smell. It was cool but not cold. The lake was blue and aqua. Everyone was taking photos and more than half the hikers were foreigners. One heavy-set lady was sitting on a log talking on her cell as I passed and was still there and still taking when I came back. A few teenagers, older couples, experienced guy hikers, families with exuberant young kids, an occasional jogger...This was an easy hike but with warnings about avalanches and grizzly bears. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Dinner was bison flank steak and roasted veggies and a scrumptious apple walnut crumble with rum raisin ice cream. Again, I heard more French and Japanese than English from adjacent diners. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I hoped to find some northern birds but saw very few and when I checked eBird, I learned that the bird population here is almost exactly what we have in Michigan, except for Boreal Chickadees (which I haven't seen...so far). </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">My room was small but had a heavy quilt and a wine glass along with the water glasses....real glass. There was an understated old-world sense of simple comfort in this place, not pretentious, with gracious, efficient staff. It was perfectly quiet all night except for the rushing stream below. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-IVCEwbl_tpk/V0HLcpRhI6I/AAAAAAAAC9Q/Tifwf279Q0MKa65oZGUOoDwG53mxrLnfQCK4B/s1600/IMG_4505.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="272" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-IVCEwbl_tpk/V0HLcpRhI6I/AAAAAAAAC9Q/Tifwf279Q0MKa65oZGUOoDwG53mxrLnfQCK4B/s400/IMG_4505.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">very tame Black-billed Magpie at Lake Louise</td></tr>
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barbarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02350809231161780641noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7692450307030028427.post-16723413296946133022016-05-22T07:16:00.000-07:002016-05-22T07:16:46.662-07:00Destination Circle: Day 6May 19, 2016<br />
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It was brilliantly sunny this morning, warm, no wind, and after breakfast at the motel and more chatting with Duane, I went to a city park in Malta and birded for an hour, hoping to see a western warbler (Macgillivray's). I didn't see the bird but did have a tree experience.<br />
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(Duane made me laugh as he told the joke: "Ya know you're a redneck if you mow your lawn and find a car you forgot about..." He actually had been looking to buy a shower/tub combination for some house he was building or remodeling, couldn't find exactly what he wanted at the stores, happened to go to his "barn" for something else and guess what? he found a new shower/tub unit he had forgotten about. This made me think about Jake's B's five barns and what is hidden away.)<br />
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So, the tree: There were gigantic shade trees in the park, and the undersides of the leaves were woolly white. I have field guides in the car and figured it must be a White Poplar, except this tree didn't really look like the illustrations until I looked up INTO the tree and saw the characteristic white bark on the branches. The tree was just very old I guess and the base was dark, gnarled and thickened but supported all this beauty above. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UcfyIU7ZSRo/V0GxAPJvVKI/AAAAAAAAC8M/zVt71Ieeu_Uls-2W_wRqlzc6yZjkzBnagCK4B/s1600/IMG_4382.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UcfyIU7ZSRo/V0GxAPJvVKI/AAAAAAAAC8M/zVt71Ieeu_Uls-2W_wRqlzc6yZjkzBnagCK4B/s400/IMG_4382.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">White Poplar</td></tr>
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I drove on to Havre where I found a Verizon store as I wanted to get information about the Internet and cell phone usage in Canada. I talked to a handsome, slightly harried, young guy named Andy who looked like someone who should be at a prep school in England. I planned to stay in Shelby (100 miles west) that night and, after explaining my options, he said he would be helping out at the store in Shelby the next day. If I had any problems adding the $2/day Travel Pass or the $10/month option, he would be available. I also went to a McDonald's to use their WiFi and sat in the play area through three successive tables of young attractive mothers out with their adorable 2- to 4-year olds, gossiping, chatting, minding their sweet kids. One little boy was so happy that I had a computer just like his mom has.<br />
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There are several small towns along what is called the Hi-Line in Montana (US Hwy 2) with names like Havre, Malta, Inverness, Zurich, Harlem, Dresden, Glasgow...some tiny with basically a bar and a few houses / trailers. Most of the smaller ones are fading away.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yAnhRL1GZoU/V0G0LrDmyTI/AAAAAAAAC8Y/RNuJtngFNtUblRsrfI01Te6eG1up6VupgCK4B/s1600/IMG_4385.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yAnhRL1GZoU/V0G0LrDmyTI/AAAAAAAAC8Y/RNuJtngFNtUblRsrfI01Te6eG1up6VupgCK4B/s400/IMG_4385.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Along the Hi Line in Montana</td></tr>
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Slate grey mountains were now visible on the horizons, both to the north and south, rising from the prairies.<br />
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Years ago I had seen a Ferruginous Hawk nest close to the highway, next to a tiny waterhole. It was on my mind, but I couldn't remember the exact location. And then, suddenly I whizzed past it. There are so few trees out here that this one must have caught my eye and nudged my subconscious. I did a U-turn and a Ferruginous was ON (on nest) as they say. So darn cool to see this as these are western hawks and not all that easy to find.<br />
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It began drizzling and then raining by the time I got to Shelby, and the temperature had dropped significantly. I settled into a motel and eventually had a microwaved chimichanga and some smoky almonds from the hotel's vending machine for dinner, again not wanting to venture out.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-qKZ4FdKE0Gs/V0G7tKmMI1I/AAAAAAAAC8w/NKK5lz2J8sESMI9rR_n3xmprghJ32s5NgCK4B/s1600/IMG_4410.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-qKZ4FdKE0Gs/V0G7tKmMI1I/AAAAAAAAC8w/NKK5lz2J8sESMI9rR_n3xmprghJ32s5NgCK4B/s400/IMG_4410.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ferruginous Hawk</td></tr>
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<br />barbarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02350809231161780641noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7692450307030028427.post-27974781592642228232016-05-20T07:25:00.004-07:002016-05-24T08:41:19.534-07:00Destination Circle: Day 5May 18, 2016<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-QEDREBjVO7g/Vz8BWi16HMI/AAAAAAAAC6g/TXIVxm8KkBMMdfSCN_bI_Z7NDez4bQMVgCK4B/s1600/IMG_4009%2B%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-QEDREBjVO7g/Vz8BWi16HMI/AAAAAAAAC6g/TXIVxm8KkBMMdfSCN_bI_Z7NDez4bQMVgCK4B/s400/IMG_4009%2B%25281%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Next to the motel parking lot in Williston, ND<br />
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Breakfast at the motel was a made-to-order omelet, good bacon, muffins, etc. Better than dinner...<br />
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Meadowlarks had been singing constantly as I drove through ND, and their melodious singing was the first sound I heard this morning. (I totally tuned out the trucks.) Sometimes while driving with the window open, it would happen that I would suddenly hear a meadowlark so loud and clearly, I felt the bird was in the car. They are usually visible also, perched low on fancies or shrubs with a characteristic slightly hunched posture and a wide black V on a deep yellow breast. There are both Eastern and Western Meadowlarks (and a lot of bird arcana about the differences and how to tell them apart) but I just do it geographically for now. DHC would concentrate more on their vocalizations, as that separates them, and she has a good ear for bird music, which all good birders have innately or try to develop.<br />
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After Williston, the Missouri River runs very close to the south of Hwy 2 for hundreds of miles but the potholes are mostly gone. Still, the long rolling hills with horizons 40 or 50 miles distant, the lack of traffic, the straight two-lane highway, the big sky, the wide-open topography....these things always, always make me fall in love with the west again. At this time of year, many fields are still brown but often plowed and probably planted. Black cows and little calves munch away. An occasional hawk flies overhead or is perched on a telephone pole. I slowed way down (25 mph) through Indian reservation towns having learned that lesson years ago when I got a speeding ticket from the tribal police. Otherwise, the speed limit is 70. In these towns, dogs move slowly across the highway and the gas station / casino / general stores are busy places.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8Bal7S3Vrcs/Vz8WYoelqnI/AAAAAAAAC7c/sRASKFANUL4jZpDSnnyVomv1sFtGAjA0wCK4B/s1600/IMG_4064.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8Bal7S3Vrcs/Vz8WYoelqnI/AAAAAAAAC7c/sRASKFANUL4jZpDSnnyVomv1sFtGAjA0wCK4B/s320/IMG_4064.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">American Avocet at Bowdoin</td></tr>
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I decided to go to Bowdoin NWR just east of Malta. It was at least my 5th time here and was absolutely incredible, with birds abundant. The auto route is 15 miles and the attraction is Lake Bowdoin, along with many seasonally flooded fields in the general area. I tried to access the refuge the "back way" from Hwy 2, but eventually had to turn around because the road was closed due to high water. It really didn't matter as I saw all kinds of birds with the best being Chestnut-collared Longspurs and Upland Sandpipers, Lark Buntings and Vesper Sparrows....<br />
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And the actual auto route was also spectacular. I so wished DHC were in the car with me as this was easy birding. Now consider this: Amtrak stops in Malta. We should do a quick trip next May if you could get a long weekend. One night on the train, getting to Malta before noon the next, birding all afternoon and the following morning, get back on the train in the afternoon (one night) back to Chicago. It might be doable; it's worth it this time of year.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-tIQtPf_qRSo/Vz8VHtCIdbI/AAAAAAAAC64/jM65wksCM-kves7A5K1irwqxnjX8ItKVgCK4B/s1600/IMG_4271.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-tIQtPf_qRSo/Vz8VHtCIdbI/AAAAAAAAC64/jM65wksCM-kves7A5K1irwqxnjX8ItKVgCK4B/s320/IMG_4271.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yellow-Heads Blackbird at Bowdoin</td></tr>
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Lots of phalaropes, avocets, stilts, dowitchers, pelicans, wrens, plovers, sparrows, swallows, ducks, grebes, terns and on and on. The mosquitoes were a nuisance but, again, so it goes in the world of birding. At least I wasn't out hiking through mosquito mini clouds. I saw only one other car in the 2 hours I was there.<br />
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It was hot and I had decided earlier in the day to stay in Malta so made a Priceline reservation. The clues I picked up online were that this was a new motel. Malta is small and a ranching / farming community in north-central Montana and isn't close enough to Glacier to attract tourists overnight, so motel options are a bit limited. What they do have, though, are two nice little museums, the newest being a dinosaur museum. Just yesterday I read in the local papers all about a new dinosaur species discovered in Montana. This happened a decade ago but the whole story was just published. If you google "dinosaur Shipp Judith" you can read all about it. The <u>Washington Post</u> (on May 18) has a picture with the headline: "This dinosaur had a heartbreaking life; now she's famous - and an inspiration."<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">back road into Bowdoin NWR</td></tr>
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There is a Dinosaur Trail all through central Montana, and Malta at least has that for an attraction.<br />
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Anyway, I did find the motel south of town, or at least I THOUGHT I was in the right place. Siri was a bit confused and wanted me to continue on down the road a bit, but she was wrong as it turned out. The place looked like a large house. A sign said the office was in the back. Not a soul was in sight. I walked into a big room with couch, TV, tables, a popcorn machine, sort of motel stuff and then found an older model phone on a counter with a note to call such and such a number "if you want a room." I barely know how to push the right buttons on anything but a cell phone so tried with my cell and got voice mail. Then I tried the counter phone and "Duane" answered. He apologized that he hadn't checked any online reservations that had come in, admitted hat he was out "shooting gophers" with a friend who unexpectedly came to town and that I could take room #8 ("it's unlocked") and that he would be back shortly.<br />
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I was in the country, a mile from town and the milieu as serene and peaceful as anywhere I've ever stayed. At first I was a bit miffed as this was supposed to be a 3-star motel, but then I got my stuff, walked around, wondered what exactly this was all about and finally settled on the couch, read a little and did some computer work.<br />
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Duane showed up and told me all about the deal. He built this 20 years ago as an assisted living facility, sold the business, and he and his granddaughter ("I gave her the day off and she went to Great Falls") run it now as a motel. We talked about the problems in such a venture, the main one being updating sewage and septic to meet current code. Not that there were problems, but the DEQ are very strict and, since this is a NEW use of an existing structure, all has to be up to current code. One example of a small business struggling...<br />
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He was talkative and pleasant, a Montanan who grew up in Canada, now raising grandchildren, helping with the motel....His mother lives in town after moving back from Canada a few years ago when his dad died, and he has goes in and has coffee with her every morning.<br />
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He told me he has all the rooms booked this coming weekend for "the Flathead Audubon Society" who were coming to check out a big prairie conservancy project 50 miles south of town. We talked about the issues with the local farmers/ranchers not being able to compete with federal conservancy funds and some of the back stories involved in these projects, another being the eradication of invasive Russian olive trees to which which some locals object as they are cover for upland birds. Politically, he is probably Republican but not rabid or ignorant. Bison are being introduced at this prairie restoration site also.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Marsh Wren at Bowdoin</td></tr>
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After he got me checked in (and another online reservation guy from Seattle who was coming to bury an elderly grandmother who had died in the winter when the ground was too frozen for interment), Duane walked across to a golf course club house to continue his day with his out-of-town friend. There was a little pond outside my window. I kept thinking about how people live their lives out here. Like most small towns almost everywhere, there are fewer and fewer reasons for kids to stay and raise families, so they are slowly losing population and businesses. The high school will graduate 25 kids, Duane's grandson one of them. I had popcorn for dinner as I didn't want to go into town.<br />
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<br />barbarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02350809231161780641noreply@blogger.com1